Search Results for 'appeared'

Forums Search Search Results for 'appeared'

Viewing 20 results - 341 through 360 (of 413 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #1032
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Finnley looked appraisingly at her reflection in the mirroor of the staff toiloots. She turned her head, surveying herself from different angles. Sure, her hair was cut very short, but she had always thought it looked quite fetching and stylish, and so easy to care for.

      She turned over the empty cleaning bucket so she could stand on it to get a better view of her body in the mirroor. Perhaps the baggy blue cleaning dungaroos she wore were not the most flattering on her slim figure, yet incredibly practical nonetheless, with 6 large pockets. She had bought several pairs on special, so she could alternate them.

      That Elizabeth Tattler was clearly just one of the mindblown ones. Mad as Almad.

      And getting worse by the day!

      Perhaps it was just THAT time of the moonth, but for some reason Elizabeth’s insistence on referring to her as a male had really hurt Finnley today. Ever since she had attempted to help Elizabeth with the Island story by modifying the love scene , just slightly, Elizabeth had been intent on undermining Finnley’s sexooality. Not only that, she appeared to be fabricating Finnley’s involvement with the noovel she was writing. Just yesterday she had overheard Elizabeth telling her publisher, Bronkel, that Finnley was telepoothically implanting evil suggestions in her head.

      Finnley shook her head again, this time in bewilderment. For Foocks sake, someone should do something about that woman, before it is too late!

      Studying herself in the mirroor again she undid the top 3 buttons of the shirt she was wearing under her dungaroos and made a mental note to buy a poosh-up bra after work today. She mussed her hair up in what she hoped was a sexy look and made her way to clean the computer gooks office.

      #1027

      She was the first to notice.

      First there was a loud bang, that she perceived as a shock wave rippling all around.

      Then, she felt a strange flabby thing with bat arms fall into the ocean, while the other energy was coming their ways. “Wow,” she couldn’t help but think; “they’re having unusual nightly activities around for such a small isolated island.”

      The dog resting by the fire got alerted then, and tried to wake up the others. But apparently, they seemed oblivious to it.

      Then, something stranger happened. The small white rabbit started to talk, as if it had been aware all along.
      “It’ll take a while for him to see you again Kay, just don’t yap like a silly dog… Besides, you’ll disturb our guests”
      “Guests?” the dog answered back.

      The moment after, the rabbit had disappeared from the girl’s lap, and was standing between her and the dog.
      “Welcome, Balbina”, he told her.

      “How do you know my name?” she was aghast, unable to say if it was for the talking rabbit, or for the fact it knew her name.
      Unperturbed, it continued “It’s a busy night. There are lots of things happening, and we hope you’ll stick around. It may be helpful for our friends here.”
      “Er… why not… I mean, yes, sure. And you are?”
      “Yuki, at your service. I’m not really a rabbit of course, but that form is convenient”
      “And cute too…” she said tentatively
      “Thank you”

      Balbina had never thought a rabbit could blush, but she would have bet it was the closest thing to a blushing rabbit she had just witnessed.

      “Sorry to interrupt you,” Kay said, but who are the other guests?

      a shrilling voice came as an answer OOOOooohh a campfire! How cuty pooh! Wait till Sha and Glo see that, we could have some roasted marshmallows and pork chops! I’m feeling soooo hungry…”

      “Great… So much for our little secret expedition,” Claude sighed as he woke up.

      #1015
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Elizabeth was beginning to realize that there WAS no ‘end of the road’, no grand finale, no finish line. Whenever her characters appeared to be nearing the proposed grand point of the story, she found herself following another thread in the impossibly huge tapestry. Maybe she didn’t want it to end, or perhaps it was that there was no ‘point’, no end point to aim for, that it was all just a process, a continual weaving of marvelously coloured threads. Some threads were gaily coloured silks, some were rough and coarse, some were woolly and comforting, and others were plain and functional. There were threads of the most unusual and unexpected fibres, other worldly threads tying the myriad dimensions and chapters together somehow. It really was the most fabulously intricate and absorbing construction.

        #985

        The door of the garage opened with a creaking sound, and Madame Chesterhope sped up into the gritty alley.
        In that dimension where she had hidden her command base, people were a bit sloppy about roads and tarmac, so she had designed a little modification on her machines to be able to levitate in some of the less practical areas; but she had to admit,… she loved the vibrations and bumps that the motorbike created with the friction of the ground surface.
        She started to giggle, all enthusiastic about the speed and the wind in her hair, that she ignored the road sign indicating that the road was flooded some miles ahead. The rain had been pouring cabbages all past hexades, so much so that her leather suit was in all honesty the best thing she could have worn, not to mention the fact of course, that it was making her totally sexy.
        Two peasants were coming her way, looking at her with wild eyes like they had just seen something otherworldly. Ahahah she laughed, the fools would soon have forgotten everything about it (another handy and sly magical modification she nodded to herself). Looking in her rear mirror, she could still see them wiggle their hands in a frenzy… What the fl…!

        :fleuron:

        On the road, the two peasants wondered what in the name of Shaint Lejus was that rider… But worse, it was heading straight to the pool that the swollen river had made recently, outpouring on fields and little sniggly and thorny paths, like this one. Making desperate signs to be seen and warn it, they watched in horror the black podgy thing with flabby flapping schpurniatz arms sink straight to the bottom of the pool.

        :fleuron:

        The landing was a bit bumpy, but she found her balance quickly. Those transdimensional puddles were a bit rough to get accustomed to, but once you knew how to manipulate it, you couldn’t forget it.
        Now, all she needed to got to the location she was heading to was to hop through a few more transdimensional puddles.
        Actually, all sorts of puddles could do the job, water puddles, even oil puddles… or run-over poodle puddles for that matter. She preferred water ones, for the quality of water was very fluid, and allowed for easier defocusing. Lately she had tried transdimensional exhaust fumes clouddles, but that was a bit disorienting more than helping.
        As far as she could tell, this first one had been projecting her to a dimension in between Earth and the Duane. Incorporating vibrational qualities of the two, with a little more rigidity though. The machine needed a little time to stabilize and get prepared for the next transdimensional jump.
        As far as she could tell, she was in a place that was not unlike her birthplace, in the countryside of England. There were occasionally some giveaways that she still wasn’t quite there yet, like an erratic flying schpurniatz, but she was close now.
        A few meters in front of her, she could see a lovely puddle that could do for the next jump. A bit small for her… well, motorbike, what were you thinking… but that would probably do it. She took another breath, then pushed the TDPP (Trans-Dimensional Puddle Propeller) button.

        :fleuron:

        Flof-flof-flof-flof…
        Bugger, bugger…. What the bloody heck!

        Straw was flying all over her hair, and obfuscating her vision… Darn last puddle had to much mud in it, and her concentration went off for a split second, heading her towards a field of barley.
        Turning round and round for a moment in complete disorientation, she finally pushed the levitation button to take a little altitude.
        Oh, now,… at least she could tell she was in England, because she knew that place.
        How perfect! She could now just move into the dimension to the Pacific island. The GPS included in the modern expensive motorbike had been bipping as soon as it had found again the satellites, and it was now pointing the direction.
        Giggling again, she pushed a new button and disappeared into the sky in a supersonic puff of smoke.

        :fleuron:

        a few days later, Chestershire, UK

        AFP - 2008-07-21 - An new amazing design has been reported by eye-witnesses
        on a crop of barley of a local farmer along with reports of strange booming sounds
        and orbs of light. A sight to behold, the delicate intricacy of these interwoven
        patterns is believed by many to be the work of the Crop-circle Makers, some
        alien intelligence desiring to communicate with us. The theme of this crop-circle
        is thought to be a variation on planet Venus cycles, and would be highlighting
        the number of cycles lefts until the notorious end-date of Mayan calendar,
        Dec. 21st 2012. Scientists have brushed off the allegations of elderly pranksters,
        as this one seemed to have required levels of astronomical knowledge far beyond
        human intelligence.
        #977
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Well, shall we scratch all the glukenitches droppings first?, asked Leormn in winking dismay. You know, before we put the new wallpaper?

          A few seconds passed in silence. Naaah, just kidding. Have some paint please.

          And * pof * a few buckets of shiny flower-scented paintings pots appeared in front of Arona, with some nice brushes dipped in them.

          #961

          Much to Arona’s surprise…

          Although I don’t know why I am continually surprised, she thought, surely I am getting used to this weirdo story by now.

          Well anyway, Arona found herself standing outside of Malvina’s cave. She was still so caught up in the last warm remnants of her delightful reverie in the field of flowers it took her a few moments to realise that the entrance to the cave had disappeared and was now a solid wall of stone.

          Hmmmm, yes, said Leormn, appearing in the nick of time to answer her unspoken question, Yes, Malvina has been shifting things around again.

          I can’t get in though! complained the ever astute Arona.

          No, agreed Leormn reflectively, you can’t. Well there is another entrance, but this has only been disclosed to an elite few. He smiled smugly.

          #960

          New Venice, July, 1 st 2035

          The night was hot in New Venice at this time of the year. The weather patterns had been steadily shifting for many years, and the climate was now sub-tropical in the inundated Big Apple, as more and more people resented the usual coldness of winters, and had subjectively agreed upon a heightening of the temperatures of a few degrees.

          Though accustomed to tell his body to relax, and vibrate at a lower frequency to counteract the sticky and displeasing effects of the heat, Al was finding sleep hard to find. Usually, he would attribute those moments of twitching slumberness to mass accessing of subjective information and bringing them to the objective. With the eclipse that would occur in the next weeks, those were still time of great cosmic synchronistic congruence.

          Needless to say, he and Tina had been somewhat stirred by Becky’s sudden casualness, and relative abandon not only of the Reality Play but also of her three lovely first born to her friends.
          People of that mysterious facility that Becky had briefly spoken so highly of had been doing a fantastic job, considering the very early birth, but still, Al had soon noticed the babies were displaying some kind of emotionless state which was eerie to observe in children that young. He had first thought of a remnant from the birth trauma, but it appeared that they were all perfectly aware, and even more than that, accutely aware of their environment to the point of displaying qualities of awareness akin to telepathy or pre-sentience.

          Sam’s innate talent with the young ones had been very beneficial to them, and Al was hoping, would help them access their emotional communications as a guidance system to navigate within the immense and potentially overwhelming quantity of subjective information they were given such an easy access to.

          Finally after having spent so much time before the cyputer, Al was collapsing from tiredness. He threw himself on the tatami for a healthy dose of rejuvenating sleep. Or so he thought…

          :fleuron:

          Al woke up with a chill, sweat beading over his eyebrow.
          He remembered.
          They would come… Hybrids from their future… He remembered having met one a few years ago.
          A strange bald guy with piercing eyes and strange snorting twitches on his face. One moment he was talking to him in the middle of the ramp waiting for a condocab, and the moment after, he had forgotten all of this encounter.
          The guy had said intently to wait for the time when the Dream would remind them it was the Time of the Reunion.
          So what was next? Aliens coming in their aluminum flying saucepans making mosquito sounds?
          That sounded awfully like the outrageous rants that old Russian guy named Pasha was making years ago in the archives of Dory —which they had taken as a basis for their Reality Play…

          Gosh, that dream was so vivid, it couldn’t be a coincidence… Especially since the first Hybrids to make contact all looked like they were clones of Becky!

          #950
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            When Becky had made her unexpected trip to Marseille just before her honeymoon, she warmly recommended Al to contact Leah’s brother, the renowned psychiatrist Dr. Lee Muir, who appeared to be living almost next door to them, in New Venice…
            Their fields of study weren’t exactly similar, but they probably could mutually benefit from each other’s knowledge: for one of the mind, and the other of the body (all the more since Lee Muir was trans-gendered, and was now a woman by all means, which certainly was within Al’s field of studies).
            Dr. Lee Muir was using what (s)he called “Fairly Graphical Fluid therapy” (or FGF therapy for short) as her preferred technique to help re-balance the mind of the most insane patients. It was a type of extreme reportage to the confines of the mind, as she would say.

            Al had emailed the Doctor, and send her a copy of funny doodles in jest, to see what would come out of this.

            This morning, Dr Lee Muir called him to schedule an appointment. Al could discern some anxiety in her manly voice… Could it be linked to this stupid doodle ?

            #926
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              We seem to have strayed with this wave
              So far from Sanso’s cave
              That I fear I forgot
              To where we had got
              With this friggen emo wave.

              :yahoo_sigh:

              “Fear not!” A voice appeared
              “Sanso’s cave will always be near.
              It’s round the bend,
              The latest trend!
              You know there is nothing to fear!”

              :yahoo_whistling:

              #924

              So how do we proceed? asked Armelle a bit weary of the transformergence.

              — Easy peasy, answered Yuki, all we need to do is focus on the aspects we want to bring into alignement
              Wait, wait, wait! the tone of urgency in Rafaela was baa’ing in their ears What did you say?… How do we do?! Why do you say we have to focus, I say, bee, Focus on Fun and reel in nonsense, and with gusto,… and pesto too, if there is! What do we care about facts, it’s all in your head, You Create your Herbality, and Go with the Fawn!… Unless it is “You are Goat Also”… I think I’m lost here! But really, what did you say, speak clearly, it’s awful, I can’t hear you! Loud and clear Cotton-tail, Load and Clean! Oh, bugger the typos, There are No Secretions,… and why are those frigging mottherflies all around my side whiskers when I can’t put them on my Chimera?!

              :goat: :yahoo_nailbiting: ~~~ :bunny_head: :yahoo_surprise: ~~~ :y_orly: :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

              What? Rafaela said after an awkward instant.

              Err… Nothing, I think we’ll improvise on that one answered Yuki, a bit overwhelmed.
              Good thinking Einski Armelle retorted. That way, we know for sure we will end up something ridiculous and —how do they say?— mentally challenged?
              Yeah, yeah… As they say, Follow Your Passiflora… encouraged Rafaela with glinting eyes, her whiskers now full of perched yellow mottherflies.

              Okay… At the count of fifty-seven!
              WHAT!?
              Ahaaha, that’s a joke… at the count of five
              ONETWOTHREEFOURFIVE!

              :creating_magic:

              :fleuron:

              Can we go now Yurmaela? Akayli was asking to his new reconfigured friend.

              Indeed… answered the great winged big-eyed, long-eared, thick-haired creature that had appeared after the three essences had merged together. We’ll fly Claude and Anita on our back to the wortex, on top of the cleared trail. Akayli, you follow our lead with Anita’s parents, and we can all jump to the other dimension and kiss these spiders bye-bye!

              #881

              Aum Geog spent a long time seating motionless before the piece of parchment which had just been delivered by a specially trained fincheon.
              Fincheons were not particularly elegant, (not to say downright ugly) one had to admit, but they were very convenient, once you noticed that their feathers were a special shining tint of grey which almost made them invisible. They always knew how to fly back, and this one had made no exception.
              But it was a bearer of annoying news for the newly appointed Elder of the Monastery who was trying to curb his irateness by staying still.

              This… he was at a loss for words. Breathe, breathe he exhorted himself.

              A few months ago, when he was appointed Elder, his patient work of diligence seemed to have just paid off. He had thought he would be given the keys, and more importantly, the chalice.
              But that sly dog of Hrih had decided otherwise. He had transmitted the chalice to that irresponsible and naïve novice Franiel, while giving him a bunch of rusted keys he didn’t give two poohs about.
              Of course, it was only a matter of time before he could get it back, all he had to do was to make Franiel uncomfortable enough that he willingly relinquish the ownership to someone… someone like himself of course!
              The annoying thing about this damn chalice you see, is that it won’t properly function with anyone else than the rightful owner (except for small uninteresting tricks). Obviously, Hrih didn’t want him to have access to its powers, but that old monkey was now gone, and there wasn’t much he could do about what was going on.

              In fact, the plan was nearly perfect. Two birds, one stone. Bring Franiel to have some appropriate spell modifications carved onto that chalice, and have him give it back to the Elder, Aum Geog himself.
              Obviously, he couldn’t just let go such a precious artifact in the nature without appropriate stealthy surveillance. Thanks to one of his faithful servants, Brother Derwish, he was kept informed of the progresses. A former master of disguises that a other-Worldly experience had him join the orders, Brother Derwish was no short of brains nor tricks in his bag, and that parchment was another proof of it.
              If he had renounced to contact Elder Aum Geog directly through the glowing balls, and take the risks of unexpected delays, it was because they were most probably watched and their communication monitored.

              So here went the news:

              SPARFLY HAS MADE CONTACT WITH BIRD OF PREY. EGG DISAPPEARED.
              NESTING CHANGED TREE. GNAT STICKS TO THE POOH.

              Brother Derwish imaginative poetry could mean but one thing. Or two perhaps.

              The little twit had been watched by someone else who had showed him some of the powers of the egg… err, the chalice. It would have partly activated the chalice, and make it disappear unless its owner needs it enough to have it appear again. Obviously, without chalice, or thinking it was lost, he had changed his course to another place.
              Hopefully, Brother Derwish was following his trail closely.

              If more disastrous news had to come, Elder Aum Geog would have to summon his char of marmoths (big toothed hibernating woolliphants) and go there by himself.

              :fleuron:

              Leonard was content. It had not happened exactly as he had thought, but as he had explained to Malvina, the only wise thing to do was to teach the boy about the powers of the chalice. That would active its self-protective cloaking power, and have the boy temporarily relieved of this burden.
              For if he had been entrusted the chalice by the old Abbot, that was surely for a good reason.

              As Franiel had been moving, Leonard had had Moufle watch over him. Apparently, Leonard and his dog weren’t the only ones on his trail… The wiry gangly tonsured guy clothed in a potatoes sack didn’t seem to be here by chance either…

              #864
              Jib
              Participant

                Sam was having a weird dream in which he was having a romantic relationship with Becky after having influenced Sean in a slippery sleepy slope.
                As the vision was developing itself, it appeared that they obviously had loads of children, like 7
                :yahoo_whew:
                Some of them were energies he was already familiar with, some he had glimpsed during Becky’s broadcast the other day.
                Some others were newly added to this dimension and Becky and him were gladly offering them an entry point, so to speak… and there was the potential for a few more.
                Sam smiled, because in wanting so bad not having these children, Becky were adding more fuel to this probability :) no matter who the father was. She may have been struggling with it, but it was one of the main point of her focus.

                #862

                “Actually, that’s it! Quintin had feared the implications, as lots of people did.
                It would mean everything would be allowed. Everything would be true, even the most blatant contradictions would be harmoniously living side by side.”

                Becky smiled at the marvelously appropriate Reality Play entry that she’d found whilst randomly reading back through their script notes.

                She’d had a hard time explaining to Sean about the probability glitch in which the note had appeared in the ‘wrong’ reality. He understood the concept of probable realities eventually, but he was hurt and confused as to why Becky had even thought to make up that probability in the first place. Becky hadn’t told him the full story about the dream, feeling that it may in some way be a self fulfilling prophecy if Sean knew that (in one probability, at any rate) he ended up an alcoholic, not to mention all those children! The very thought of all those children was enough to make Becky break out in a sweat, and she wasn’t inclined to add energy to that probable future.

                Becky explained that she had written the note to Sean (in the Reality Play) to tell him she was leaving him merely as a method of introducing some new characters, but Sean was deeply wounded.

                She did her best to placate her new husband and take his mind off it, even going so far as to don the shrunken tarty nun outfit. But after the romantic interlude, when Becky had fallen asleep, Sean was unable to stop thinking about it, and he wandered dejectedly into the kitchen, and poured himself a large whiskey.

                In an ironic twist of fate, a glimpse into a probable future had affected the present, and Sean’s descent into confused drunkenness began in earnest.

                #858
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  Sam looked puzzled at the flurry of new comments that had appeared like a cluster of ripe “groiselles”.
                  Having been plugged on the Reality Play Channel, he had been enjoying the activity like a buzzing hive of frantic bees in the background, but decided to get back to his forging of a Jedi light saber.
                  The recent didjeridoo adventures had given him some particular insights on how sounds could be manipulated to model matter, and he had decided to adapt a tutorial he had found on the network on how to craft a light saber from carton wraps and glowing sticks. Except that he would do it almost from scratch, starting with a jar of vegemoth…

                  As for Al, as he couldn’t resist a peek, he started to wonder what this red currant frenzy was all about. He knew well enough “groseilles”, as his aunt would make delicious red currant jelly in the bayou. But “groiselles”, he checked quickly seemed to be an ancient variation of the word… How odd… Becky’s clue-sowing (a bit Cluseau-ing, indeed :detective: ) talent was really shining in her typos…

                  #851
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    “Wow, it was starting to become a hell of a smoky place place in there!” Al was thinking. “Better bugger off before I get asphyxiated” as a tornado of numbers and probable numbers of plans started to whirl in a tornado coming in his direction.

                    Poof he was back home.

                    “At least, Becky was home…” he said to apparently no one. “So I suppose everything is alright now.”

                    You should have listened to me Al sweetie, Tina answered, while brushing her luscious hair in the bathroom. I’ve told you Becky was fine. Though I wonder where that strange reindeer-legs-addicted chaperon of hers disappeared…

                    #789
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Becky sneezed again, and shivering, reached for the box of tissues. She was choosing to align with those old fashioned ‘catching a cold’ beliefs because, frankly, she wanted to spend a few days wrapped up in her dressing gown idly flicking through magazines and taking naps and not doing anything much.

                      Sean appeared with a tray.

                      I’ve made you a nice pot of Earl Grey, and buttered some scones for you, dear. How are you feeling? I’ve done the laundry but I think the nun outfit has shrunk.

                      Becky blushed. Oh well never mind that, eh.

                      I’ll get you another one, Sean said hopefully.

                      Maybe a trench coat and some thigh boots instead, suggested Becky, recalling her drenching in the park in the tarty nun outfit. More practical.

                      Sean grinned and sloped off to do some dusting. Call me if you want anything, he called over his shoulder.

                      Becky picked up another magazine from the pile next to her. Crisp, it was called, and had a photograph of Sue Flay and the Ova Tones on the front cover.

                      #841

                      Jarvis was dozing in a dark corner of the kitchen. He was dreaming of bees, he had been assigned to the bee keeping a few weeks ago, just after the “incident”. He was one man the Dr could trust. In a previous life, he was keeping bees as a family business. But an accident with the bees led to his dismissal by his uncle. A regrettable accident, too much smoke, too much dead bees. Jarvis had been thinking of a sabotage, surely he had been framed but as he was thinking of quiting this poor paid job, it was also a perfect occasion.

                      He had been engaged as a security agent… sort of. He had to pretend to be a gardener and not awake suspicion among the others. The funny thing is that he had soon been contacted by another organization, and had been offered quite a good price. All he had to do was observe and dream. Unfortunately, the man, Claude, who had approached him was disguised as a patient… and he had disappeared after the “incident”. Since then Jarvis had been having strange dreams of mummies, magpies, there was even one with 3 eyes 2 nights ago :yahoo_waiting:

                      The light was turned on abruptly. Someone was arriving, still hidden by the tables and shelves.
                      With the sound of the heels on the tiled floor, that was a woman… or the Doctor.
                      A little twinge told him not to let him be noticed yet. He moved his head silently in a position from which he could see who it was.
                      Oh! that big athletic woman, Vasse.
                      Claude had told him about her. Jarvis had to be very cautious, because she was of another organization… another :cat_confused: he was calling her agent V. Well Jarvis wasn’t curious enough to ask any further detail, there were already too much to remember.

                      She was doing something with a little jar of a brown substance, and brought a spoon full at her mouth. Her sudden coughing and spitting almost made him fall off his chair. But hopefully with all the noise she hadn’t noticed. Mumbling, she was heading toward the fridge. Was she possibly aware of…

                      Yes! she was taking the plate with the honeycomb… he’d have to move quickly.
                      As she was considering the modified honeycomb, he realized that she was about to eat it. So she didn’t know. :-? He had to warn her.

                      — I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, Agent V…

                      #1779

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        oh great … this page is nice
                        hmm it does not link to individual pages … i was looking at the hug page 12-13 (that is a sort of a half synch with the next bit of this comment too)

                        I was starting to write out my “Goodly King Goodle” story/poem and suddenly felt it was a bit difficult. Just as i was about to close the programme, i saw on the left column “document recovered at 1:23 pm on 11 April”. This is my “easy” number .. not so much easy even but a reminder to shift energy within myself and be hopeful and have positive expectations.

                        I read this yesterday about emails disappearing into blackholes

                        I thought how my parcel has apparently disappeared and NOW …. MY GUESTS HAVE DISAPPEARED!!!

                        yes the two men who turned up on friday in the black porsche who were supposed to check out this morning have disappeared, it is now 4:40pm, leaving their car and valuables behind. No reply on mobile (which by the way last 3 numbers are 123)
                        :yahoo_worried:

                        well on the brighter side … went to garden cafe today. Not table 12 but table 5 today, 12 was next door table. Also i checked out the yellow fish from last time , they were lemonhead orandas and cost $57.99 :fish: :fish: :fruit_lemon: and i swear they remembered me.

                        #824

                        Midora was perplexed. These books were like an open-ended uncharted territory. That territory was so vast and fractal-like in nature that each attempt at following a single thread seemed daunting. There were always details growing like a reckless plant from the entry points where she started her investigations. Badul seemed lost in this jungled maze.
                        Last time she’d tried to connect, she ended up with another focus of his, a child, vaguely related to the crystal skulls hunt.

                        All it requires is a proper compass to navigate the thought suddenly appeared in her mind as clear as daylight, carrying with it a trail of concepts and clusters of associated ideas.
                        One in particular…
                        She’d had that book of designs she’d always loved to read when she was a child. It was full of colorful symbols which were called by the authors “tiles”. The authors associated some properties to them, and she remembered one which was about a compass…
                        So she had found a compass… Now, she would have to learn how to use it. The introduction of the book said:

                        The tiles presented in this book all have different functions; they can be primarily understood as focal points which enhance specific uses of energy. […] As far as we know, they can be discovered in many situations, either objective events (e.g. something that catches your gaze in the street) or in the subjective (dreams, visions, inspirations etc.). In both cases, the recognition is instantaneous, as each tile carries a distinctive energetic signature which is the essence of its “function”, so to speak.
                        As such, it can be used theoretically in both situations (subjective and objective), though, as far as we have explored, subjective interaction with them seem to be the easiest and most quickly rewarding way of accessing them.

                        Subjective interaction, yes that was child’s play, she would have said, though she could vaguely understand why people before the Shift completed had more trouble accessing it. Objective wasn’t so difficult, once you get to the idea that it’s all one, and you can easily switch from each of the attentions used to focus on them.

                        The only thing that doesn’t seem to change, she thought, is the numbering. Even when the events shuffle through the pages and reorder themselves, or even when the very energy of the event subtly changes, their numbers were the same. She could start with that.

                        She cleared her mind, envisioning the compass, then took a deep breath and asked herself a question, Where do I find Badul?
                        Slowly, the compass started to shift and turn, while numbers started to roll in front of her mind’s eye, and like a lottery, at each draw a number appeared, slowly revealing a number: 1-2-3-8

                        She eagerly leafed through the books to find the reference. Well… that was more perplexing than ever, that seemed like a totally unrelated story.
                        But now, she was not so sure about that, as she read the entry and wondered about the fact that it seemed once again different from the first time she’d read it.

                        And now, she marveled as a new entry started to write itself under that one. It was the first time she actually saw an entry write itself. Those she had spotted that were not here before, she just assumed they had appeared instantaneously. But not this one… and it started to link Franiel’s and Badul’s explorations…

                        #822

                        I’m wondering where Irtak and the twin dragons have gone… The thought just struck Leormn.

                        They’d probably been exploring the outside of the cave of these past events… But they couldn’t afford staying here for too long. Not so much because of the chilling environment of the Marshes… In fact, as soon as they had all appeared here, they’d been at first mere translucent unfocused spirits, but the longer they stayed, the more they became physical and solid here.

                        Georges and Salome had wished Malvina to see something here before their departure to other ventures.
                        Possibly, the twins and Irtak were part of the plan too… Not to mention Arona…

                        If his calculations were correct, they had a little more than a hexade left before they would be completely merged into that timeline, and after that… It would be less easy to come back…
                        That would require the mediation of the Guardians.
                        And all things considered, Leormn was less than enthusiast about that solution.

                      Viewing 20 results - 341 through 360 (of 413 total)