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  • #1026

    The GPS was indicating that she was getting closer every minute. She was at less than 8 minutes as the crow flies from the island.
    She had to make a small detour to avoid the now less powerful but still dangerous cyclone Ycart, but all was under control.
    The night had fallen upon her like a bird of prey, and cloaked in the velvety shadows, she smiled, baring her teeth full of squashed mosquitoes.

    All absorbed by the blinking lights of the GPS, and her head full of the roar of the wind and the raging sea, she sadly didn’t notice the hydroplane coming from her left at full speed.
    The shock was brutal, and Madam Chesterhope got ejected from her motorbike which went with her alongside, spiraling down until crashed into the ocean.

    WHAT THE…!”

    :fleuron:

    We hit something! the distraught pilot shouted to Mahiliki.
    Drawing his knife again, thinking of how close he was now to dear sweet Vera, he shouted back “any damage? how close are we now?”
    “Seems OK, but what about the thing we hit?”
    “Bugger it! Move!”

    #1010

    She was squatting on the sand beach, near the now calm ocean. The light was so dim that she barely could see the devastation, shards of coconut and palm trees spread on the shore, but the sound of the ocean was soothing.

    Aaah she had hold that pee for too long.

    “MAaaAVIS!” That suave authoritative voice must have been Sha’s.
    “COooOMING!” Tsk. One can’t have a pee alone…

    While she was readjusting her two pieces bath suit, ready to come back to the improvised discotheque, her attention was caught by something on the beach. A fire?
    She squinted her little beady eyes to discard any of the hallucinatory visions that sometimes she had.

    “MA-VIS!”
    BLODDY COMIN’!” a hint of exasperation. “Mrs Sharon Stone, you ain’t the queen here” she thought. “I can go look for adventure meself, if I want to”.
    Besides, the fire didn’t seem to be too far away.

    :fleuron:

    With the darkness that made very difficult their progress, Akita had made them stop near the shore, where they would see any trouble coming and had ordered the small troop to collect twigs and bits of wood to light a fire.
    The parents were still in a bit of a shock, and were staying with a blank gaze, looking with an air of wildness at the soothing sound of the waves. Anita was playing nearby, drawing things in the sand, muttering words to herself.
    That was a good thing that Claude was there. Unlike the others, he seemed quite strong, and the adventure didn’t seem to have left him short of resources.
    He had been on the island before, and had said they had to avoid the constructions, which were all owned by the same people.
    For all that mattered, Akita wanted to get to the authorities as soon as possible, but he had to compromise: they would settle close enough to have a check around and see if it would be safe to go there.

    In a minute, Claude had been roaming through the woods and had gathered a pile of wood. That guy was pretty amazing, Akita was thinking. Odd that he had retained his supernatural strength… At least, Akita had imagined that the guy’s strength was the result of the spider exposure, but now he started to doubt it. He had been sketchy to say the least around the circumstances of his presence.
    As far as he himself was concerned, Akita wished he had retained somewhere his connection to Kay, wherever his spirit dog was. What the creature had said? That veils were thicker, but not impermeable… Or something around that.

    I think they’re still hanging around

    What? What did you say? But Anita didn’t answer. Perhaps his tired mind was imagining things.

    With all that rain soaked wood, it would be difficult to get anything but smoke.

    I’ve got a lighter Claude handed him an expensive ziraf that flashed moon reflection in his eyes.

    Let’s get started then.

    :fleuron:

    What now?

    A roaring sound of a flying thing startled Mavis, passing over her head.

    Mmm… this island’s getting too crowded, me think. Must be another of Vessie’s guests… That gal sure’s got how to use her sex-apple.”

    #1005
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      This I Ching business wasn’t very convenient to figure out, Al was thinking.
      For Becky’s draw, he had more than a handful:

      entry 3 (id:1610) #835
      entry 2 (id:234) #171
      entry 1 (id:1275) #638

      All he had to do was relax, and know that the magic would appear by ways of his interpretation of these numbers.
      He wanted to get 6 numbers out of these 3 comments. So, for each of the comments, he would make 2 numbers.

      So, for the original comment IDs:

      • 1275: 1 (odd) and 2 (even) gives (odd) ; then 7 and 5 gives (even)
      • 234: 2 and 3 gives (odd) ; 3 and 4 (odd)
      • 1610: 1 and 6 gives (odd) ; 1 and 0 gives (odd)

      odd-even-odd-odd-odd-odd (what a bunch of odds, he thought, though barely surprised remembering the numbers came from Becky)
      that’s 1-0-1-1-1-1 or |¦||||

      From now on, he would spare everyone the maths, and play some interlude music while working out the magic.

      (some lalala music) :yahoo_party:

      and for the mutation (835,171,638): 1-0-0-0-1-1 or |¦¦¦||

      And the result: ‘Fellowship of Men’ mutating to ‘Increase’

      Bah… this is more fun to add more nonsense than try to figure out what it was all about. Al was finding it the moral of the story for today.

      #998
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “Okay,” Al started.
        “At the essence of I Ching, is the notion that everything is mutable, and changes. Everything changes, except the law that says that everything changes.
        “In many ways, the I Ching is like a book where the pages numbering change every time you start to read it. Not unlike our story composition.”

        “I get that,” answered Tina, interested by what would come out.

        “So,” Al continued, always disagreeably pondering, Tina would say. “usually, when people are drawing to read from the I Ching, they have six numbers that give an hexagram. And these numbers are carrying into them their potential change, which usually gives another hexagram to read.”
        “In our stories, the entries have a fixed identity, which is given by the system; this is our starting point. For your comments, this is ’4-191-328’.
        “But as everything evolves, our entries are given an order in the book; this order is changeable, and that’s what I will use for the second hexagram; in your case it’s ’2-151-223’.”
        “If you say so…” Tina sighed, a bit lost.
        “Oh, I’m inventing the rules as we speak,” Al said trying to reassure her somewhat.
        “I don’t know if that makes me feel better” she said.

        “Okay. Now, I need to create the hexagrams; hexagrams are defined by six straight or broken lines; zero or one, binary system. Here, Chinese usually use the convention that odd is straight, and even is broken… Ahaha, doesn’t seem to make sense, but odd is male, unbalanced into action, and is associated with single, straight things. Broken is paired, complete in reflection, unbalanced in passivity.”

        “And I wonder when we actually start to hear something that makes sense?” whispered Tina, a bit crossly.

        “Okay, the thing I see, is that I have trouble making one hexagram with seven numbers, ahaha”, Al laughed a bit embarrassed.

        “Oh, then no point in wiggling like that” said Tina very sweetly, “Scrap any bit that bothers you”.

        “Okay, anyway we can go deeper into them afterwards if needed; I’ll scrap the first number rather than the last, because you see, 2 and 4 are both even, and thus there is no mutation here.”

        Original Mutation
        8 ╌ 3 —
        2 ╌ 2 ╌
        3 — 2 ╌
        1 — 1 —
        9 — 5 —
        1 — 1 —
        4 ╌ 2 ╌

        “So here we are, if we scrap the bottom one, we get…”

        #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.
        #1920
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          An accidental connection between Ancient Siberia, and India(Sri lanka/Vedic etc)

          “Somaras is said to cause hallucinations and therefore the consumption of soma was permitted only during sacrifices. Somaras gave a sense of growing to gigantic size and possessing superhuman strength or experiencing visions of the gods coming down to join the worshippers on the sacrificial site. Even today a few brahmanic families who try to keep up the very ancient Vedic rituals make a rather bitter drink from a kind of wild rhubarb which they call soma The modern Somaras is not injurious, because the powerful hallucinogenic property of the original soma plant, was replaced by the ineffectual substitute that is used today. It is said that Somaras is similar to the agarics mushroom widespread in central Asia and the Himalayan forests.” jayaraman

          #932

          Madame Chesterhope couldn’t believe her ears.

          WHAT?! YOU LOST IT?!
          — Yes Madam, we lost contact, and we have reasons to believe that an unexpected well-planned counter attack on our team of magpies is to be blamed for…
          — For that fiasco, Tfark! And where is the damn skull?! Will I have to go fetch it myself?
          — There was report of a spy mottherfly that managed to escape by the wortex before it was closed. Nothing definite but we have reason to believe that the skull is still on the island. An agent of your old friend the Baron has been spotted heading back there.
          — I will deal with it myself then.

          The glow of the transmission ball went out in a whiff.

          Ah, she hated to have to come back to that dimension, especially in this time framework where everything was so clouded in terms of potentials. But she couldn’t really trust anyone on that.

          #928

          Passing through the security cordon of the giant spiders had been relatively easy, thanks to the indications telepathically passed down to them by the Snoot .
          With Anita on her back, Yurmaela the gruffoon had come back to the borgulm tree where Claude had been left to watch. After a moment of surprise at the unexpected apparition, he didn’t take long to decide whether he wanted to stay or not and had jumped on the broad back with the little smiling girl who was grabbing on the coarse hair of the beast.

          Keep you energies and your attention close to us, said Yurmaela Just like Akayli is doing with your parents, Anu. Though they have plenty of eyes, the giant spiders mostly rely on their energy perception, and they won’t see you if you stay within our energy field.

          A few minutes later, they were all standing in front of the growirling wortex, partially masked by the bark of the huge babul tree, which was standing out with its massive appearance. Flames of what seemed to be dark floating matter were pulsating very slowly, enhancing the thumping sound of their hearts.

          Ready to come back home sweet Anu? Akayli said fondly to the little girl?
          Yes, it was so much fun you all came to play with me… I’d want you to stay with me.
          What do you say? asked Claude They ain’t coming?
          This reality had a special design which allowed us to project very easily here said Yurmaela very softly in that reality of you, and Anita and Akita; as for now, the barrier in that reality is thicker than it is here.
          But we are always present around Anu, you know that said Akayli kneeling down to wrap his spotted furry arms around the little girl
          Yes I know she was smiling And I miss my parents too
          So let’s go, the wortex will close any moment now

          #925
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            “My yellow is fine and dandy”
            Said green hued sickly Mandy
            “You’re mad to suggest
            A yellow sick fest”
            Said sickly green hued Mandy.

            :yahoo_sick:

            That wasn’t one of your finest, dear, said Tina disparagingly.
            Becky sighed. I need to find a Limerick support group.

            Mandy felt better at once
            “I feel better than I have in months.
            You may be mad,
            And that is sad!
            But now I fancy some lunch.”

            :yahoo_pig:

            These are special Kuzhebarian Healing Limericks you know, Becky said a trifle huffily. Nobody appreciates my limericks.

            Mr X is making some rice.
            It’ll be ready in just a trice;
            All soupy and wet,
            She’ll feel better I bet
            In a trice, at a modest price.

            :yahoo_money_eyes:

            “You tried”, she said with a smirk
            “But I doubt if it will work”

            Tina interrupted: “You tried she said with a sigh”

            Becky sighed. I was hoping you’d smirk dear, she said to Tina. The word smirk is on my ’100 things challenge’ list.
            Tina rolled her eyes and Becky continued:

            “But the poppy is making me high!
            So thanks for that!
            I’ll eat my hat.”
            She said, “Now I’m starting to fly!”

            :balloon:

            Mandy flies off down the street,
            Smiling gaily at all she meets
            “I’m high, I can fly!”
            She said with a sigh
            Of joyous delight. How sweet!

            :yahoo_eyelashes:

            Mongloose had a moment of doubt
            “I fear she is still in a prout.
            But one never does know
            How these healing rhymes flow
            Before long she’ll be up and about.”

            :yahoo_idk: :heart:

            #905

            — If you have an idea, then tell it quick, said Akita, this place gives me the creeps.
            — Remember how Kay’s having this nice werewolf form in his shape-shifting bag of tricks?
            — Yes, but he cannot really hold it for very long… Wouldn’t be easier if you just teleport us or something?
            — Well, the thing is, yes, that would work for us, but that would take too long to teach you, not to say the parents. We can’t really count on their cooperation for now… and it’s perhaps better that way, because I’m not sure they would really believe they can do it anyway.
            — So the real question is, Kay interrupted, how do we move quickly with two stoned weights?
            — Exactly. My suggestion is that we combine our energies. I must say I’m quite fond of the werewolf outfit, it’s brawny and forces respect, and besides, you and Akita know how to operate it.
            — I think I get your point. So how do we do?
            — Just let Kay merge with you, and I’ll facilitate the anchoring, said Araili.

            Kay started to swirl around Akita in a swoosh of air, while Araili faded into the background to become a force-field around them, getting tighter and tighter, until all three were a ball of light and poofed back in the form of a twelve-feet tall impressive werelynx.

            GRRRREAT, growled Akayli the beast. Let’s move on.

            Baring his claws, he delicately tore off the mummifying silky threads to unwrap the two parents, and taking each of them under the hairy soft grey arms, sprung out of the nest to the forest in quick bounces.

            #900

            START! said Tina.

            Becky and Tina were doing a meditation together, and Becky decided to just write whatever popped into her head. She could always delete it afterwards, or edit it, she reasoned.

            “Bagpush got out of the washtub”, Becky scribbled, “ And scooted down along the river line to the marks butty big one by the farm. Heavens above, fishly, what’s that brown thing on the water butt? Gawbsmacker said, don’t be talking like that, shekeltons in a hide to ho where and its first light, fair bright and hey ho the wash go. Abbon Ipswich, slaty flats of corncake, hey dee on the wash bucket, spittin in the hole hey down dooly. Margaret Apsworth laying on the white cotton cake spread, fair dooly down the one hooly. Ay and its a hey ho fair fooly down by the wash pooly, drum rolling in the har fool haley, down by the dash darnly. I said, hey ho the brown tooly, hoggin all the raw tooly, stewing in the far fooly for eight pence an hour. Said Mavis of the green sportwear, theres may flowers in the far horse hair, weel butter in the spar for tucker and muck down in the cow butter, said bree in the bird barny, a flying for the far fooly, well its knees up and out your dooly for the green hay beer fair. Its a fine night for a hooly in the row bottom in the far fooly, said mavis of the tom fooly, in the wash bucket down stairs. Once more, sell a nickel farthing, in the morning and in the darning, and say way more is in the star sign than a wash bucket down stairs.”

            Good greif, exclaimed Becky, What was all that about?

            What a load of twaddle, Becky, said Tina with a laugh.

            Well you know what? It was kind of fun and refreshing to just write nonsense
            I am sick of things MEANING something, Becky said, and then, warming to her subject:

            Lets have some good old fashioned MEANINGLESSNESS!

            #895

            The woman’s voice raised softly in the dark, like a velvet caress, or the sound of a purring cat.

            Life was long before I met Georges. Not unbearable, but so long and lifeless. Days would pass, and nothing new would happen but the same matter the previous days were made of.
            Though I no longer align to these limitations, I was once human, born to Earth, as Georges was, in a not so distant past. Like most of my people, I was not feeling special. But my will was strong and my desire to survive too. I survived poverty, lust and violence. In the crucible of these emotions I’ve melted my fears, and it was there I found Georges too.

            A curtain raises in the dark. A palace in an exotic tropical place. Brunei? Al doesn’t know this place…
            A young dark haired woman in a small room, around sixteen, perhaps a bit less, disheveled. She looks wildly around her, her rags stained with dust and dirt.

            Enters a tall woman. She doesn’t seem local. British perhaps. She’s elegantly dressed, thin mouth, high cheekbones, apparently in charge. A maid follows her. She can speak the girl’s language.

            Where is my mother? Let me out of here! she starts to cry
            I’m afraid this is not possible, Salome. For your safety,…
            What do you care about my safety!
            For your safety, Salome, hear me, try to behave. The Sultan is not a man without a heart. He loves beautiful women, and that is what probably saved your neck, considering what all what your mother did wrong to him refusing to pay taxes and her obstinate and bare-faced smuggling. Listen Salome, this might save you, and might save your mother as well.

            The curtain falls on the scene, where Salome hopes to have found a friend of captivity with this woman.

            A few years later, still in the golden cage of the harem, occasionally asked to service the lustful and violent Sultan, I start to go explore the depths of my misery. My inner world was a safe sanctuary, a haven from the pit of hell where I was now living, after my childhood years of hard work in the forest. There, where no one was given the key to enter, I became aware of him. I first thought he was an imaginary friend, a messenger from the other world, greeting me to a sure death. But he was real. He started to talk to me. About what I could do, like him, be a Traveler, if I wanted to.

            The curtain raises again. Young Salome is lying on her straw mat, in a seeming delirium. She moans, whispers, weeps, laughs. No one in the harem seem to care any longer. She is probably possessed, but the Sultan still find her suitable, she can’t be touched.

            A roar can be heard in the palace. The big black-bearded Sultan Ojylam the Second, ogre look on his face, summons his guard.

            — Don’t worry Salome, the voice of Georges whispers in the dark. The Sultan is mad at Madame Chesterhope. She has just fled with his precious crystal skull, but he won’t find her. She’s a skilled Traveler too, as soon you will be dear Salome, once you have learnt my last tricks, and we soon will be united.
            — Why that stupid crystal skull?
            — Don’t worry about it… This one is the Birds Skull. It carries lots of information and magic in relation to the Birds Realm, but it should be the least of your concerns. We’ll find Madame Chesterhope even if she’s clever at hiding between dimensions. Only concern for you must be to get out of here.
            — The Sultan will know I told her about it… I should have known, he was so proud of this object, and so protective too… And she was so curious…
            — That’s why we must hurry now.

            And so we were united for the first time. Lots of other lives have occurred afterwards, different paths at times, but always we have found each other again. Eternally bound, in a most sacred bound…

            #889

            Wow that had been bizarre! Veranassessee stood at the bathroom basin and splashed icy cold, reviving water on her face. She knew she’d had sex with Agent Gabriele … however the experience had a slightly surreal quality, not unlike a dream, details slipping elusively away from her as she tried to grasp hold of them. She giggled nervously as she dried her face with a towel. Did she really want to remember? She had just passed Agent Gabriele in the corridor and he had winked at her, saying he couldn’t wait to try the ‘reverse cleaning maid ‘ again. A sudden image came to mind and she saw her skin darken in the mirror as a hot wave of embarrassment flooded her. Good Grief! She thought guiltily of Mahiliki. She hoped the other island had not been too badly affected by cyclone Ycart, so far it seemed Tifikijoo had come off quite lightly.

            Veranassessee had already checked on the guests, Jose Maria and Paquita were still in their room, Mavis was huddled under her bedding and informed her in a muffled voice that Sha and Glor had gone looking for her.

            :fleuron:

            Well she’s not in her bloody room so where is she eh? Gloria and Sha were on the warpath, determined to get some answers from Veranassessee.

            ‘Ere, Sha! Bloody hell! Glor shook her head in disbelief.

            What’s up Glor?

            Bloody magpies … there are bloody magpies in ‘ere!

            What! Nasty little buggers those magpies. Poke yer bloody eyes out if yer aint careful.

            ‘Ere what they up to eh? Bloody hopping all over that whats-a-ma-callit-doo-dacky machine.

            They’ll be going for the shiny bits I reckon. They do that those magpies. ‘Ere we’d better stop them, might never get our bloody beauty treatments if they bugger that machine up.

            #872
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              His door was open. He had his back to her, looking out at the storm. Veranassessee knocked lightly on the door and entered. He turned towards her.

              You’re wet Agent V, he said, his eyes running slowly up and down her body.

              His gaze came back to her face and their eyes locked. She felt her knees go weak. God does that really happen?

              Why had nothing changed? She had not seen him for so long, had almost forgotten about him. She loved Mahiliki… didn’t she? She had managed to convince herself that Agent Gabriele was in the past. That was where he belonged. He was a fantasy.

              She was not a child anymore.

              God, but he was gorgeous though. Dark, sexy, he gave off an aura of untamed passion just barely suppressed below the surface. His face was more mature, more closed off than before, but still almost unbelievably handsome. At one time she had known every line of his face, memorized it, retraced it over and over in her imagination. She thought she had known him.

              He smiled. Better get you out of those wet clothes, you’re dripping on the carpet.

              Still holding his gaze, almost defiantly she pulled her dress off and let it drop in a soggy heap on the ground.

              She wanted this didn’t she? She turned and closed the door behind them.

              #871

              — Who are you? said Alana. And how did you get here?

              The man who was standing before her was smiling mysteriously. She was staring at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hint of fear on her face. What was puzzling her most was that she didn’t know who he was working for, was he an agent of the Baron? It was quite unlikely. The French man Langlade had always been working alone since his misadventure with Harry, and the Baron wouldn’t double his agent if unnecessary.

              — My name is Andrimiñ. And as of how I got here… let’s say I know how to get through :) What matters is that I’m here to offer you my assistance…

              His smile was quite hypnotic, and she almost lost track of what was happening (very unusual of her) when a few knocks on the door and Mr Isashi’s voice reminded her of her guest.

              Are you all right, Aunt?

              The man was staring at her with his blue eyes, she had a strange feeling and she knew she had to move quickly.

              Aunt? Is there someone with you? I heard a man…

              — I can show you how to activate the skull, Atiara. And help you with this man.

              Suddenly she knew she could trust him. Something in his last words… there was much unsaid, and the name he gave her… she was having the weirdest feelings about it. As if it was perfectly fitting. She smiled to him, her tensions released. He was now looking at the door.

              — Bring our guest in, Mr Isashi.

              The face she turned to the door was full of a new strength, mixed with a strange feeling of familiarity.

              #861

              Finally catching up with the fluid communication of the Snoot, Yuki realized that they had to move swiftly.

              — I think it’s our chance to move to another place. Well, of course we can do it already Rafaela, please don’t interrupt. I mean, Anu, you have a chance to leave this place and get back to your dimension…
              — And what about my parents, Anu asked preoccupied.
              — Mmm, that’s another thing I had not yet thought about…

              There, Akita interrupted.

              — I know where those beasts gather, me and Kay could do a raid to their place, we can have a chance to free your parents when the spiders go for hunting.
              — I could help too, Araili said menacingly, baring its sharp teeth.

              — Oh fine then, Yuki said… A rabbit won’t probably be of much use to you then…
              — And of course, you have forgotten how to shapeshift, almost said Armelle, but she only rolled her eyes twice while bitting her beck. (quite a feat to witness, the narrator thinks)
              — I’ll follow the Snoot’s indication and lead the way to the pinhole, Yuki continued. Rafaela will come with us, to take Anu on her back, so that she doesn’t get hurt in the rocky cliffs.
              — Beh, said Rafaela, with a wisp of fresh herb tinted drool on her chin
              — No “but”, please. Armelle, I count on you to show our rescue team where the pinhole is located. No we have to move quickly. The pinhole is getting bigger by now, and though time lasts usually longer here than in Anu’s dimension, there are fluctuations we can’t forecast.

              And the two groups parted.

              :fleuron:

              Meanwhile, Claude was finding his progress inside the tree (but was it really a tree?) more and more difficult, as though the conduit was getting smaller and smaller. He paused for a moment.
              A deep cracking sound seemed to be heard in the distance. He had to continue…

              #859

              The wind howled. It screamed in fury. Cyclone Ycart in all its majestic glory was ripping over the island, screaming out its rage, like a demon swirling from hell.

              The rain started.

              Veranassessee shivered and cursed beneath the onslaught. Water saturated her long hair, plastered her thin cotton dress to her body and rain ran in rivulets down her face.

              She looked wildly around, trying to suppress the hysteria rising in her chest. She screamed out their names, but her voice was carried away by the winds. Breathing roughly, she paused, drawing in a calming breath.

              Then she saw them.

              Goddamit!

              She stared in bewilderment. She could barely believe what she was seeing. Mavis had been right when she nervously told her Sharon and Gloria were having a picnic on the beach. There they were like two beached whales, apparently oblivious to the waves lashing perilously close to them.

              For a moment Veranassessee was sorely tempted to leave them to their fate.

              #857
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Another probable Becky hit send on her computer, and grinned wickedly. She had amused herself greatly writing her new storyline for the Reality Play, it had taken her mind off her cold.

                Becky wandered into the kitchen where Sean was clearing up after dinner and gave him a kiss. That rhubarb crumble was delicious darling, wherever did you learn to cook like that!

                Aha, replied Sean, It’s a secret recipe of Manon’s, she made me swear not to tell anyone. The secret, he continued, and dropped his voice to an enigmatic whisper, The secret is the groiselles.

                Sean picked up the empty crumble dish to put it in the dishwasher, revealing a handwritten note that had been underneath it.

                Sean recognized Becky’s handwriting, and smiled fondly at her. Oh, what have we here! he said, and started to read. Becky was frowning, perplexed. She hadn’t written a note to Sean in THIS probability!

                #847

                Becky’s heart was racing and her breath was coming in short rasping breaths. I need to change probabilities, and I need to do it fast! There’s not a moment to lose.

                Maybe I can change the past, she thought, change it to a probability in which I didn’t marry Sean in the first place. Oh Lordy, but how do I do that exactly? Her head was spinning.

                Maybe I should just run away, now, pack my bags and disappear before Sean gets back from the bar.

                No, that won’t do, she said, biting her lip in consternation. I want to keep the wedding presents, especially that YouDo doll.

                Becky rummaged through the pile of magazines, looking for the script of the Reality Play. Oh dear god, if I change probabilities Al and the others will kill me, it will make such a mess of the threads.

                Becky was distraught. What shall I do! she exclaimed, wringing her hands.

                BREATHE, a deeply resonant female voice said. BREATHE into YOU, that’s right, BREATHE…..

                Becky stopped wringing her hands and drew a shaky breath.

                That’s right, the voice continued, BREATHE into YOU…..

                Becky took another deep breath.

                BREATHE…..

                Oh for heavens sake, Becky interrupted rather rudely, That’s enough of that blimmen breathing for now, thank you very much, now bugger off, I need to think.

                The voice in her head changed to a masculine one, that said with a chuckle, “THINKING” is absolutely FATAL, my dear, just DO what ever is easiest for YOU.

                You mean, do whatever I want, and bugger everyone else? asked Becky. Wouldn’t that be a bit inconsiderate? I mean, don’t I have a responsibility to the others?

                HAHAHAH, you are funny, said the voice. Did all that Seth and Elias stuff go in one ear and out the other?

                What Seth and Elias stuff? Haha, just kidding, of course I remember it all. Reading about it and actually DOING it, well, they are two different things……her voice trailed off, and she frowned, deep in thought.

                Thinkin’ aint doing, said the voice.

                #838
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  West Cork, Ireland, Summer of 2051

                  As she walked along the rocky trail bordering the coast where occasionally whales could be seen at a distance, she was humming deep sounds and harmonies in the damp air filled with the echoes of the cool wind.

                  She was aware of distant focuses of herself, living around that place. Past focuses, in that land of the druidesses and druids, and another one, closer to her, in some probable future. Like this other focus, she loved the whales too, and she was able to communicate with her. Catherine Wrick would have loved to be able to live in such a crystalline place she could envision with her eyes closed.

                  Her woolen black coat would let the wind insinuate itself through the layers of clothes, and she was starting to feel a little cold now. Temperatures were colder than they used to be in the past, and even now in summer, they would rarely go higher than 15°C. It was time to get back home. She whistled Merlu, her golden labrador, back, and still nestled into her dream-like attention, slowly walked towards her house.

                  :fleuron:

                  In the comfort of her dome house, she started to leaf through the messages and reminders that she had in a pile on the bed table. Nothing much of interest, except that in a few months time, it would be the first birthday of the twins

                  Her step-mother Dorean had sent her two books, when she had learned of the birth of the twins. They were to return to them, when they would be seven, she’d say.
                  Why seven?, she’d asked… Dorean had answered that seven was the perfect age for them to get them back —their intuitive abilities would still had much potential, and they would be mature enough to understand and use the books. It was no use for herself to keep the books any longer.

                  As she was going to sit in her antique rocking chair for a smoke, Catherine noticed a faint cracking sound. Perhaps Merlu was playing with those hard-boiled eggs she’d been painting recently, without much success, to try to reproduce the perfect glowing green colour of her grandfa… Another crack. She stopped and listened again.
                  It couldn’t be Merlu: the dog was now barking.

                  She started to wonder Could it be?… After all those years of keeping them…

                  The sound was definitely coming from the reading room where the big eggs were put on display…

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