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  • Becky snorted right back at Tina (unfortunately forgetting her cold, and hurriedly wiping up the snotty mess). Does energy smell? It smells of roast dinner sometimes. Becky sighed. She couldn’t smell a thing with this cold. ... · ID #611 (continued)
    (next in 18h 28min…)

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  • #2070

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Saucerer read creative Walter Magpie:
      Supposed Dream:
      Latest pee; leave, making ancient continuity world random, stuck…..:www:

      #2389

      One tiny thing that Pee and his family wasn’t entirely aware of, as well as poor Bentworth Sadnick, was that the Old Portal was indeed… old.
      An ancient generation’s which allowed only transfer of biological entities, whereas all things manufactured, such as the latest shiny head-fasteners, wouldn’t be passed through the portal.

      This would have explained to the inquiring minds why there was an inordinate amount of plastic garbage in front of the rusty and Old Portal to the Eighth Dimension.

      But no one thought of asking, forgetting for the most part that the elastics of their pants were made mostly of inorganic stuff…

      #2369

      “And how do I play these notes?” asked Pee raucously. “I can’t even see them without my head.”

      “Mmmh! Yes that could be a problem” acquiesced Fwick. The saucerer scratched his chin for a few seconds as he couldn’t remember where he had put that ancient device.

      “Well maybe I could just send you to the bird keeper, and he can give you one of our last Anthornis Melanura…”
      “I beg your pardon?” Pee’s voice was more raucous than ever, it was quite disturbing to the saucerer who wasn’t used to talking with a headless Peaman, but he couldn’t show his discomfort though, as he thought of it, the headless Peaman was also eyeless and couldn’t see his discomfort.
      “Hum! This is the ancient name of the legendary Bul Bird of New Peasland. Mewrich Peamon, the bird keeper, his family has been breeding these birds since the great Peaphetess Frean Psea found these notes some millenia ago; they are the only ones which can open the ED. Any other sequence of notes would… well we don’t know exactly what could occur. You’re on your own on this one, Pee. ehr, I’m sorry, ehh, But be assured that I’ll take care of Peanelope for you.”

      “Oh! You’re too kind, Saucerer” said Pee who couldn’t have known that his faithful wife and the Saucerer were having an affair.

      A sudden cry from Lilly startled them both. She had burst into tears and her brother was looking like a culprit. But Fwick wasn’t sure as he hadn’t got a head either…

      “What have you done, Pickel?” asked Pee with his raucous voice.

      #2646

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      One thing led to another, as it tends to do, while Sanso sat meditating on the enigma of The Dead Cow. Random and seemingly disjointed images flashed through his mind, not unlike a random google had been back in the old days, the first being an odd word, Kogaionon . Accessing further information, Sanso discovered that it was an ancient Transylvaniun skull. The link between the dead cow and the skull was clear ~ it was a bone sync, they both had bones, there was no denying it. Encouraged, Sanso continued to meditate.

      :crystal-skull:

      After some images of a battle at sea , presumably Trafalgar, Sanso intuitively felt, he heard the words “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” Wise words, he thought, and appropriate too. He popped these snippets into his indigo clue bag and continued to meditate. An image of a strange creature, half fish and half lion appeared next, a Merlion, which quickly morphed into an entertaining old movie playing across the screen of his minds eye, so to speak, in which someone who reminded him of Becky arrived in Paris during a rainstorm with just the clothes on her back ~ and interesting clothes they were, too! Sanso was glued to the screen, in a manner of speaking, and watched with amusement as a whole new wardrobe was delivered to the puzzled woman, followed by her mysterious benefactor: Georges.

      Well, fancy Georges turning up again like that! Sanso was delighted. Perhaps Georges could shed some light on the mystery of the Dead Cow Blocking the Cave Entrance.

      Sanso returned to his meditation and found himself eavesdropping on a conversation.

      — Well, and Sanso, and Georges then, are they dead or what? How come Dory can see them?
      — These ones are special, they have mastered the crossing of the Worlds, and can move through them. They move differently though. Sanso comes from a lineage of an ancient tribe of Zion, and had learn from them how to activate some portals, but only through the physical world of Dory, in their own time. He is not yet aware that he can also move through time as well, or even through other Worlds — worlds that he has no conception of yet.
      Georges is more consummate in that art. Their meeting is not coincidental. You will see that.
      — Thank you Grandad, it’s becoming a bit less confusing.
      — Just flow with the story my little one, don’t hold on too much, or you will find it too difficult, and you will stop to find fun in it.

      “Their meeting is not coincidental” Sanso repeated to himself, popping it into his clue bag. “Well, I don’t know about Meanings, but at least I have a new bag of clues now!”

      #2643

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      After her little escapade with Yimho, and then with Brennan, and then with Gormitohl, and with each escapade, a new home, new relationships and relatives, Malvina was starting to feel homesick. ‘Home’ wasn’t really any place of course, but we all know when we feel at home or not. And right now, the feeling was clear and loud that she wasn’t.
      Not only that, but her selfless outpouring of love (which dear Arona always found slightly exaggerated for her tastes) had oftentimes put her in awkward situations.
      People weren’t always aware that even though her love was given so strongly to all of creatures, it could be found everywhere, in every creature. Ancients called that stream viwre. The only difference with her and the others was that she wasn’t discriminating and her love was outpourring in every direction, regardless of the intentions of the receiver. And that could become a terrible power.

      Well, after all the traveling with her teal-coloured dragon Leörmn, and occasional visits from the young dragon breeder Irtak she felt more than ever the need to reconnect. It’s been too many years now, and the world of the (still) warring Kingdoms didn’t feel much of a better place. So there was still work to be done.

      Of all people, she knew where to turn to.
      It was too early to start her trip around the world to physically reunite with her sisters. A lifelong project which had strangely stalled ever since they started to mention it.
      But she remembered Kalliona, a beautiful woman living south of the Marshes of Doom. She wasn’t really a woman either, but rather an E’elim of the woods, but she appeared as a beautiful woman to almost anyone.
      She would help her realign with her path.

      “Leörmn!” She called “We’re packing!”
      “To where, may I ask?”
      “Olliburthon”
      “Oh great… A stinking harbour now.”

      #2641

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      Peackle Handlebut wasn’t really that old hag of a lady she projected the appearance of, but she preferred to test the sincerity of people through this rather crude means.

      In fact, she wasn’t a lady or a human at all. She was an E’elim, as they called their race when they had use for words. Their true form wasn’t really physical, and their existence was mostly ignored — a fact that was not a small feat, for even the ancient race of the Guardians mostly didn’t know of them at the time when they were in the system of Alienor.

      In fact, their consciousness was quite different from the rest of the races, and in many ways, it was one of the most ancient one, having been present for countless ages.
      They’d known the times of the appearance of the third moon around Duane.
      They had even witnessed the emergence of that third planet, which is now mostly forgotten, but was then called B’si before it was called Phreal by the Guardians.
      And they were there at the time of the separation of the Great Panye into the twin planets now known as Duane and Murtuane.

      The E’elims where riders of the elements; usually only one of the six elements from which everything stemmed: airs, earths, woods, flames, waters, and forgotten (or spirit).
      Learning to ride dragons was something new for Peackle, as they were powerful blends of the purest forms of these elements, and she was wanting to take the risk of revealing herself to have that experience…

      #2754
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Found out by Tracy after I sent her that article about a lost book by Carl G. Jung

        Random daily group story quote:

        “What is that?” she asks. “It doesn’t come from The Book, does it?”
        “Well, our best team of psychic archaeologists just got it retrieved from purported old discarded bits in the Crypt.”
        “of…? You mean… apocryphal part of The Book? Are you serious?”
        “Quite possible, you see. Do you know what’s the ancient meaning behind that word ‘apocryphal’?”
        “You tell me.”
        “‘those having been hidden away’… But the intricacy of this reality makes it possible for us, in the future of The Book, to re-insert it directly into the past.”
        “So they’re no longer ‘apocryphal’…”
        “You could look them up actually, and perhaps you’ll find even the part where they’re speaking about us finding it even…”

        Oct 19th 2008

        #2627

        In reply to: Strings of Nines

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          The word flounder popped into Yolands head, and for want of the inspiration to do anything meaningful, or even useful, she googled flounder. She was astonished to find so many varieties of flounder, and recognized that she was counterparting with quite a number of them.

          :fish:

          There was the Crosseyed flounder that she felt an affinity for, at the end of an evening of trying to sort out her photos; Alcock’s narrow-body righteye flounder, which was what she felt like in a bed full of male dogs every night, and she could relate to the Antarctic armless flounder when she couldn’t keep track of the Antarctic thread. Barfin flounder reminded her of the green icon and her friend Finn; Bigmouth flounder ~ Yoland sighed, she definitely felt a connection to that often enough. Blotched flounder, well that sounded a bit like botched ~ there were many occasions when Yoland felt that everything she did was botched, half done and messy. Chain-mail wide-eyed flounder when she dabbled a bit in past lives, and the Disc flounder when she got her music in a muddle. The Dark flounders were the worst, when everything seemed to take on the tone of a horror movie, but they were often followed by a Deep flounder, which sometimes contained a few insights, more often than not promptly forgotten.

          :fish:

          Yoland sighed. Imagine counterparting with just about every flounder known to man! She decided she wasn’t the only one counterparting the European flounder, which was a releif, nor was she the only one counterparting the Fantail flounder, although at least it could be said that she wasn’t a complete fan of anyone in particular, dead or alive, she was a fantail of quite a number. There were long spells of resonating with the Finless flounder; Finn was always disappearing, or so it seemed to Yoland. Very rarely she felt an alignment with God’s flounder, thankfuly she wasn’t often prone to dwelling on God things.

          :fish:

          Ah, the Gray flounder, yes she’d had a bit of a flounder when Gray sent all those photos of the Beltane Dance, she’d had a flounder for sure in amongst all those. Looking back though, she’d had fun with the mummy and Ella Tindale in the Gulf flounder…

          :fish:

          Yoland had to laugh when she came across the Intermediate flounder. Yoland wondered if the majority of her foundering was counterparting with the Intermediate flounder and decided she was probably too intermediate to work it out objectively anyway. She often had a tussle with the Large tooth flounder, lordy, she was always floundering with dental issues. And the Largescale flounder, that really was the biggest ongoing flounder of them all, the sheer vastness of everything.

          :fish:

          Every now and again, less than previously though, Yoland had a Melbourne flounder on Saturday nights, and rather enjoyed it, but not as much as she enjoyed a good old New Zealand flounder.

          :fish:

          Another flounder Yoland always enjoyed was an Olive wide-eyed flounder, roaming around the ancient olive trees of Andalucia, wide eyed and awestruck with the beauty and history of the place. She also enjoyed a Peruvian flounder on occasion, too ~ she’d even had a dream recently about floundering around by the mysterious doorway of Amaru Muru. The next night she’d had a River flounder, dreaming of the river in the Grand Canyon.

          :fish:

          Sand flounders were the best of all though, Yoland recalled many happy flounderings in the world of sand and all its Subulmantium configurations. The trouble with the sand flounder was that it often morphed into the largescale flounder, and got quite out of hand.

          :fish:

          Yoland sighed, it had been ages since she’d felt connected to the Seven pelvic ray flounder, what with Dan working nights. She was beginning to feel like a Shelf flounder. However, at least thanks to her new diet of replacing meals with flans, chocolate mousses and ice cream, she was closely aligning now with the Slender flounder.

          :fish:

          The ongoing slug issue with the cat food was obviously because she was still strongly aligned with the Slime flounder. Notwithstanding, Yoland was rather pleased to note that despite her morose and petulant mood this morning, it had to be said that she often counterparted with the Smooth flounder; although that was easy to forget in moments of quiet desperation when the floundering got out of proportion.

          :fish:

          Smiling, Yoland remembered the dream of feet touching when she noticed there was a Sole flounder too. And how often the Spotted flounder popped up, she was always spotting clues. Well spotted! she would tell herself. Oh, and the Stone flounder, wasn’t that the truth! Yoland was aligning strongly with that lately, smoking more than ever, somehow striving for either inspiration, or perhaps oblivion.

          :fish:

          Oh well, I guess this is just a Summer flounder, it will pass, Yoland decided (who was secretly glad that she was nearing the end of the list of flounder names). And sure enough, the next on the list was the Three spotted flounder, surely a good sign! A probability change perhaps! As if to validate Yolands impression, she noticed the Tile-colored righteye flounder. There was even a Warthog flounder, which seemed to ring a bell with a recent entry to the Reality Play.

          :fish:

          Best of all was the Windowpane flounder, Yoland felt she would even go so far as to say that this was her new focus animal. Well, she thought, if I am making this all up, I can make that up too!

          :fish:

          Thankfully Yoland reached the end of the flounder list, rather pleased that it had ended on such an amusing and encouraging note.

          Being closely aligned with flounders wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

          :fish:

          #2550

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Taatje van Snoot was an eccentric character of indeterminate age. That she had been born Dutch was obvious, but when, nobody could tell. Nobody could remember when she hadn’t been an integral part of the Amsterdam scenery, even the most ancient citizens recalled Taatje being around. Nobody knew her well, it seemed, but everyone knew of her existence, everyone saw her from time to time. She never seemed to age, and she didn’t appear to work, for she was never seen doing anything in a routine manner. Sometimes, for example, she would be spotted drinking coffee every morning at the same place; the following week or years therafter, she’d be elsewhere, never visiting that cafe again. Taatje was a bit of a mystery, but a well loved one. She was jolly, always smiling, as she bustled about the city doing whatever she did, polite and charming, delightfully vague, and always endearingly dressed in a random selection of fancy dress outfits and carnival costumes.

            #2236

            “Leo focuses ancient city within probable space
            nonsense waiting believe
            phone start stories
            shift known sign nut
            dragon green high rubbish”

            Fer sure sounds like junk to me said Lavender when Harvey was trying to decipher the newspaper aloud with his pinhole third-eye monocle on…
            She then started to wonder why she was speaking with a heavy American accent, her eyes distractedly following the little pet mouse running in circles in its wheel.

            #2196

            I think Aspooh is too busy mourning her cat which she had embalmed and mummified to pay any attention to the piglet (it be).

            “Did you know that ancient Egyptians shaved their eyebrows in sign of mourn when the family cat died?”

            What do you think of “Cellar door” as a name? Some eminent linguist has proposed it was the most beautiful association of nouns in the whole English language…

            Now, Lavender was puzzled; why in the name of all the angels’ choir, Harvey was speaking of nun associations? Soon he’ll be talking of peanuts at that rate…

            This whole Shifting business was definitely taking its toll on uncanny understandings…

            #2186

            “Speaking of infinite details,” said Björn who was watching a circus program with a muscular looking man who balancing his contortionist partner who was attempting to balance plants on her face.

            “What?” said Iris who was already dozing on the couch.

            “Sorry dear, I was just talking to myself, have nice dreams”, he said, stroking gently her freckled face.

            He continued in his head, slightly dozing off himself.

            “One two, one two. Testing the acoustics… Sounds good.”

            “Funny how these thoughts come in and out… It occurred to me something funny.”

            :fleuron:

            “Can you add a plush toy in your dream?”
            “Oh sure darling. What kind of?”
            “A baby aardvark”

            :fleuron:

            Björn wasn’t very comfortable yet, he started to toss and turn until he realized he was seated on Iris’ plush aardvark. He fondly placed the little soft thing in Iris’ arms and returned to his thoughts.

            “There, it’s inserted…”
            “Now, your reality can be viewed to some extent as the most complex, yet the most simple of assemblage. You may liken it if you will to a room with mirrors (*). Ancient Indian mystics have spoken of Indra’s net where droplets of waters are each reflecting all of the other ones; these are the same images.
            It is not new information to you, the fact that you are seeing your reflection in your world, or that it is a sort of illusion reflecting you, but this is not the point we want to highlight here.

            Consider that the room in which you are is reflected an infinite amount of times in every direction. In a sense, they are all the same. They are you. Now, we come to the interesting part. You may very well decide to explore the room next to you with its shining details, by going through one of these mirrors. Some individuals quite enjoy such explorations, they call it past or future or even probabilities, other dimensions etc. And by moving into the next room, it becomes their present.

            You now realize that you have not really moved, since all rooms reflect only you. And you may want to continue in the direction you are exploring and go into more rooms. It’s alright. But some individuals realize that all rooms are equivalent, and that from where you stand, you can view the point you wish to explore in one part of the mirrors reflections. This is being present. You shift your attention, and expand your vision of the tiny part, rather than moving towards it with great efforts.

            Now, when you are dreaming, the very nature of dreams is the same. It gives you a whole fractal hologram to ponder. You may get carried away by wanting to remember all the tiny details, because in doing so, what you are doing is simply opening rooms upon rooms upon rooms. And more details will be created for you! Or you can simply realize that the details are all contained within your feeling of being present, and standing in the middle of one of these rooms, and not one of them is more important than the next.

            Connect to your feeling, and all the natural movements of your explorations will be automagically connected. And we bid you a nice fractal dream exploration.”

            #1275

            “Oh great!” Dory felt relieved when she saw Dan on the muddy yellow tractor coming up the hill.

            She’s been boulder-moving with the neighbours for hours now on Salitre, to remove the blocked entrance of what was believed to be an ancient opening to a cave, or better, a tunnel full of mysteries. And despite her unwavering enthusiasm, she started to show signs of tiredness.

            “Whose truck is that?” asked Dory to Dan who was grinning on top of the monster
            “The old folks at Juan’s pueblo; I figured out they got that tractor that hasn’t been used since Jose and Paquita inherited their millions and buggered off a while ago…”
            “Bless them!” sighed Dory in relief, reaching for another cup of the warming mulled wine that Leonora had been preparing for the Yule Boulder Party.

            #1272
            Jib
            Participant

              His species was dying.
              He knew there were a possibility to save his people in mixing their encoding patterns with that of the Turmaki.

              But what was their intent as a species? The Ancient Gates were gone, only a few of them had remained after the shift of the Phreal. Tor Amok had chosen to stay along with some friends. The temptation to follow the others had been great, but something was still holding him in the old ways.

              He had to talk with their officials and offer them to share their paths.

              #1258

              “Well, what a coincidence!” exclaimed Bea, as her freind Baked Bean Barb described the book she had just started reading. It was all about ancient inscriptions in Antartica, which was what Bea had been reading about online just before Barb arrived.

              “Some of it’s fact” Barb was saying “But the rest of it’s made up; interesting though!”

              “Oh, I can’t wait til they find remains of the civilization under the ice there!” Bea said, to which Barb replied “There’s no civilization there. Nope. There’s nothing ever been found, nothing at all scientifically proven about that. The book’s fiction.”

              “Well, they haven’t found it yet, Barb ~ if the scientists had proof, it would be found already. Until things are found they don’t exist?”

              “There’s nothing there, there’s no proof!” Barb said firmly, shaking her head.

              “What about all the new things we keep finding out about, before we knew about them, they didn’t exist, is that what you mean?” Bea persisted, trying to get her point accross. Then she wondered why she was trying to get her point accross in the first place. She knew what her point was.

              Well, at least I think I do, she said to herself.

              “Fancy a cuppa, Barb? Leo bought some nice nettle teabags, how’s that sound?”

              “Ooh yes please! Got anymore of those gingerbread men?”

              Sometimes the actual point wasn’t at all the same thing as the point you thought you were making. Bea gave herself points for noticing this, although she wasn’t at all sure what the point of the whole thing was, objectively anyway. Distraction tactics always worked, but once summoned, the distractions were indiscriminate and chaotic. On the way to the kitchen to put the kettle on, Bea glanced out of the window and noticed a shaft of light illuminating the rocks and casting deep shadows into the crevices, the resulting effect looking for all the world like mysterious ancient inscriptions. She reached out for her camera, which was always conveniently handy, as she strode out of the door, single minded in pursuit of the capture of a moment of light as if drawn by a magnet, or reeled in like a fish.

              Barb eventually found her, some 57 minutes later, pruning the oleander down by the stream.

              #1247

              Finally, sailing on the Orgasmic Sea had not been as difficult as Akita would have thought .

              Occasionally, while they were sleeping on the deck under the starry sky, he could hear a few “Ahs” and “Ohs” (something even some “Oooh” as far as he recalled) coming from the three ladies, but perhaps that was only the effects of their feeling again their skin against the sheets, since all their hair had almost now gone.

              He was wondering if that was a special disposition of the Brits and people coming from the cold areas, that kind of bestial growing of hair, and shedding in spring… Could well be, as his Asian ancestors never had been accustomed to growing much hair themselves, he couldn’t tell for sure.

              Perhaps they were dreaming too… As soon as they had found out about this strange piece of tile, their imagination seemed to have taken to new heights. They were speaking of Spreal, an ancient civilization buried for 570,000 years under the ices, near the Onyx river and had almost manifested the strong desire to come back to investigate.

              Hopefully Kay had given him the perfect excuse to not comply with the sometimes erratic demands of the three Graces: the iceberg was slowly melting in the giant structure of plastic containing the freshwater from the berg, and the heat exchange was also giving the propellant for the trip. They probably wouldn’t be able to get away so easily if they backed-off now.
              Hopefully their shedding had finished to convince them. Any vague desire left to go to the frozen place was long gone with the comfortable hairy insulation.

              Akita had thought for a moment of going back to his homeland, in Arkansas. But now that probably most of his family was dead, or thinking him dead, there wouldn’t be much point in doing that. Instead, he’d decided to trust living in the present. Not worrying about that elusive past from another life, and only focus on what route was open to him now.
              Sharon, Gloria and Mavis were apparently not in a hurry to come back home either, and now that Kay was more and more easily accessible for him, he didn’t feel alone at all. So all was well.

              #1233

              When he had been hit by the blow of the watermelbombs and the furious lady he had come to rescue, Akita found himself in a strange peaceful place. He was getting bits of what was happening, but the will to resist and fight seemed vanished in a distant scene he was only distantly aware of.
              He was seeing Kay, his spirit dog beside him, beckoning him to another place of white luminous and warm peacefulness.

              “Am I dying” he asked, feeling the answer to the question wasn’t very important.
              “Don’t be silly” the dog said mentally “Just let go for a moment, it’ll make things easier for you to get out of this place to another one you’d prefer”
              “I’m not sure going anywhere is so important, being here reminds me of something long forgotten”
              “Yes, you know this place, you’re drawing to you some memories of others of your focuses, explorers from your time and also ancient dwellers, in a very very distant past. These living memories will help you.”
              “You were there too, configured differently but I remember you from there”
              “Yes” the dog nodded “you had a pack of dogs in one of these explorer focuses. I was the alpha one, see…”

              Some scenes moved in the white foam sprinkled with diamond dust like he was seeing through openings in a crystal cave. All was so clear it was elating.

              “But we’re never going to get out of this place, not without a boat, a plane, not without a compass… and not without a brain!” he was being drawn back to where his body was, wrapped in the warm snet, jumping on the back of the snow scooter. “These women will lead us to a sure death, and pretty fast!”
              “Just relax, even if they don’t give that impression, they know what they are doing. They focus on what they want, and they trust. They can’t see the dead-ends you are seeing. Sometimes you get caught up in those other memories of yours. You’ve read adventures of Antarctica explorers, most of them were drama, but it doesn’t have to be the same broken record now, you’re going to love that time if you choose to…”
              “They’re so focused on themselves it’s hard to believe you. They wouldn’t see a leopard seal as a threat even if it was at their throats!”
              “But they wouldn’t even draw the predator to them in the first place.” Kay was saying warmly “Have a little faith in them, there is a surprise coming along that’ll show you beyond a shred of doubt that their allowing for miracles is fairly titanic.”
              “Titanic, yes… Now tell me I shouldn’t worry with all those icebergs!”
              “Indeed” Kay said with a hint of mischief in its ethereal voice “Now, let’s wake up and have some fun!”

              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                A non exhaustive list of Ancient Channeled Recipes

                • Glukenitch kebabs
                • Borgulm tart (also known as the Snoot’s tart)
                • Flynn and chips
                • Langoat Crumble
                • Horny Goatweed and Spam soup
                • Reindeer Pee Sorbet
                #1185

                “Did you see how Malvina went to her date?”
                “Yes I saw it beloved” and she added with a giggle “though she probably wouldn’t like us to call that a ‘date’ huhu”.
                “Ahaha” Georges was enjoying himself with various associations connected to his periphery. Associations with words like ‘date’, or with time-space connections, like the ones related to the dress Malvina was wearing.

                Salome huddled herself up against Georges, and not looking at him, said in a dreamy gaze “I remember perfectly that first time we heard about the Zynder”
                Georges answered, surfing on his own associations “I remember how people had so much trouble pronouncing it ‘right’ — Ze-In-dear, Zee-Indeer, Zaindher…ahaha it was so funny”.

                Then coming back to Salome’s last sentence that had been hanging in the soft silence unanswered. “I think I heard about it before you did, but I was vaguely aware of it. You were the one to tell me the legend.”

                “Yes, on that first day on the Kandulim, where the Zentaura told me about it.”
                “I would love you to tell me again…”

                The Legend of the Zyndre

                as told to Salome by Zharon the 44th, of the Zentaura’s tribe

                There is a legend among the people of this place, that people love to remind themselves of in times of despair. It’s the legend of this mythical creature named the Zyndre.
                What the Zyndre looks like, nobody knows for sure until they see one. Because once you see one, you know what it is, without a shadow of doubt. It may be tricky because some people have seen one, and they get into fights about what it looks like, for such is the nature of the Zyndre that its form is diverse and it doesn’t show itself to two people the same.
                That’s why my people have named it Zyndre, which means “the creature of a thousand forms”.
                Some people have searched to catch it, but their attempts have always failed. For the Zyndre doesn’t show itself to the forceful people. The Zyndre is a peaceful creature that will find for you what you most desire.
                That’s why many people have used to represent it with a large nose, for it is a seeker. It may find anything you want, but you have to desire it so much that it becomes the main focus of your attention. It burns in your head, not like a madness, but like a warm reinsurance, a soft knowingness that you will indeed find it, that which you desire most.
                So that once you find the Zyndre, you know you’ve reached that thing that you desire, because the Zyndre is pointing you in its very direction.

                “You know Georges”, she says “that night on the beach, I dreamt of the Zyndre”
                “Really? And how did you perceive it?”
                “It was beautiful, not like the classical representations we see, of that big-nosed creature; it was so elegant, like a small silver-shining spotted doe, with tall feet proportionally to its body, not unlike the Qilin of the ancient Chinese; and it was proposing me to ride it to escape its enclosure.
                And I was thinking in the dream, ‘it must be strange and a bit uncomfortable when it’s galloping’ —because it’s small, and my feet will touch the ground.”
                “So did you ride it?”
                “Yes, and you were with me, and it was carrying us with ease and grace, like it was floating and gliding above the ground…” Salome looked at Georges with a smile “So that when I woke up, I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that I was exactly where I most desired to be.”

                #1162
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  Rneyl ba na Bpgbore zbeavat. Gurer vf gur cebzvfr bs urng va gur fxl ohg sbe abj rirelguvat vf pbby naq fgvyy. Fur bcraf gur onpx qbbe bs gur pbggntr naq naq fvgf qbja pnershyyl ba gur jbbqra fgrc. Ure obql uhegf sebz gur avtug.

                  V xvyy guvatf, fur guvaxf, fheirlvat gur qel oebja cynagf va gur fznyy tneqra fur unq gevrq gb perngr.

                  Fur jbaqref vs gurer vf fbzrguvat gung jnagf gb pbzr gb yvsr vafvqr bs ure, gura uvqrf sebz gur gubhtug. Abg orpnhfr fur qbrf abg jnag vg, ohg orpnhfr fur vf nsenvq. Fur qbrf abg xabj ubj gb oevat guvf guvat gb yvsr. Gur fueviryyrq cynagf orne funec grfgvzbal gb ure snvyher…

                  [ encoded in ROT13 ]

                  “What is that?” she asks. “It doesn’t come from The Book, does it?”
                  “Well, our best team of psychic archaeologists just got it retrieved from purported old discarded bits in the Crypt.”
                  “of…? You mean… apocryphal part of The Book? Are you serious?”
                  “Quite possible, you see. Do you know what’s the ancient meaning behind that word ‘apocryphal’?”
                  “You tell me.”
                  ‘those having been hidden away’… But the intricacy of this reality makes it possible for us, in the future of The Book, to re-insert it directly into the past.”
                  “So they’re no longer ‘apocryphal’…”
                  “You could look them up actually, and perhaps you’ll find even the part where they’re speaking about us finding it even…”

                  :fleuron:

                  — Aaaaalbert! You’re not ferreting again in my old discarded files, are you?
                  — Err… No, of course not Tina.

                  Al quickly changed the view on the cyputer and added with a hint of malice in his voice “You don’t have anything to hide from me anyway, isn’t it?”
                  “Don’t be silly Al, and you’d better prepare yourself. We’ll be late for the big Hallowe’en party at the Father Chase Memorial Garden. Becky’s supposed to make an apparition at the party, remember.”
                  “Becky? You mean… The Becky?”
                  “Yeah… You’re so absent-minded sometimes sweetie, good thing you got me, Sumafi as you are. Yes, that old twaddle-speaking silly exotic Becky, the one and unique!”

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                • Becky snorted right back at Tina (unfortunately forgetting her cold, and hurriedly wiping up the snotty mess). Does energy smell? It smells of roast dinner sometimes. Becky sighed. She couldn’t smell a thing with this cold. ... · ID #611 (continued)
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