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  • #3496

    It was the first of September and everyone in the village breathed a sigh of relief. Miraculously, it already seemed cooler, although it probably wasn’t, but the promise was in the air. Jack and Lisa stood on the roof terrace watching the migrating vultures glide past on their way to a new story for the winter, exerting little effort as they sailed on the thermals.
    “They never flap, do they?” remarked Lisa. “No frantic flapping or struggling to beat back the air, they just float, and steer.”
    “I wonder why they always circle our village before continuing south?”
    “They’re saying cheerio to us, Jack, although I’m sure you’d prefer a more logical explanation. It’s a reflection that we stopped flapping around with all that teleporting lark, and that we’re all back home now.” Lisa sighed with relief and hugged Jack. “I’m glad you banned teleporting for a year.”
    “I didn’t ban it!” Jack said, not wanting to me misunderstood. “You make me sound so dictatorial and bossy. I merely suggested it. Strongly suggested it,” he added. “We all need a bit of no nonsense plain old grounding and balance. It was getting ridiculous, all the drama and comings and goings.”
    Mirabelle says she wants to write a book about it” remarked Lisa. “Which is marvelous really, considering the trouble she had at first with the language. And Fanella’s studying archeology and plans to travel ~ she’s fascinated with sphinxes, not surprisingly, after leaving an energy fleck in that one on the island; not sure how much she remembers about that now though. Adeline has an exhibition coming up in Paris ~ she’s looking forward to that.”
    “I think they’re all planning on going to that, even the Russian lads. A trip down memory lane I suppose, but I expect they’ll notice some changes. But that’s another story.”

    #3417
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “Why haven’t these windows been cleaned?” snapped the bossy dwarf. “And these mirrors? The mirrors are disgusting, and I can smell unwashed hair everywhere.”
      “I’m not surprised, with all this housework, we haven’t had time to wash our hair, what do you expect?” retorted Consuela, almost at the end of her tether with the demanding interloper.
      Anna Purrna glared at her. “How dare you speak to me like that!”
      Consuela glared back. “Just what gives you the right to come here and start bossing us all around anyway? Where have you come from, who sent you?” Conseula was starting to warm up for a heated exchange. “What gives you the authority to boss us around?”
      “I am” replied the monstrous diminutive gargoyle, “Your inner dictator, made physical. For your own benefit.”
      Consuela was at a loss for words.

      #3257

      “You look just like your father” was Lisa’s mother’s only remark when Lisa had thoughtfully sent her a couple of photos from Portugal. No compliment coming from her, thought Lisa, rolling her eyes. And it wasn’t even true ~ she looked nothing like her father, something else must have triggered her mothers comment, some other association.
      “Remember your new policy, dear, don’t take it personally” Mirabelle reminded her. “Just another cranky old crone stewing on an old trigger. Besides,” she added, “What about Frank and Molly? Can you get a more specific remote view? Stuck in a carob tree could be almost anywhere.”
      “You’re rather sweet for such a bossy tart” replied Lisa with a grateful smile. “Shush now then while I access their location.”
      Lisa closed her eyes and waited for the images to appear. There was an explosion of purple and a great deal of static before an image began to appear of carob pods on a car windscreen. As Lisa viewed the glass a strange thing began to happen and she started to focus on the reflections. There were dozens of people approaching, all wearing brilliant white robes trimmed with gold. The robes were short, and revealed a considerable amount of tanned muscled leg, and a murmur of appreciation escaped her lips. What handsome fellows, she thought, but there’s something odd about them. Either this is a fancy dress party on a dry dusty hill, or another time zone.

      #3253

      “Raining?! At this time of year?” cried Lisa in alarm. “I will have to rethink my packing now!”
      Using her telepathic skills, Lisa was pretty certain that Frank and Molly were in Lisbon ~ and that they had been the ones who had stolen the whale vomit tile. Packing her case quickly and booking a flight, she was almost ready to set off to track them down. She remote viewed them again before setting off, and spotted them on a bridge near the Belen Tower, slick with rain.
      Mirabelle, grab an umbrella, and get in the car. A change of scenery will do you good. No arguments!”
      What a bossy cow, thought Mirabelle, and they call ME a bossy tart!

      #3241

      The corridors seemed unusually long and Adeline ran quickly to apprehend Igor, ostensibly to retrieve the shell as Mirabelle had ordered, but perhaps she could also plead his forgiveness for slapping his handsome face? He will surely be angry with me! thought Adeline, so she gathered courage as she ran by singing a well know song from her childhood.

      Au clair de la lune, 
Mon ami Pierrot. 
Prête-moi ta plume. 
Pour écrire un mot. 
Ma chandelle est morte, 
Je n’ai plus de feu. 
Ouvre-moi ta porte. 
Pour l’amour de Dieu.

      As she rounded the corner she bumped into Fanella.

      “Tsk, tsk, Adeline. Where are you running to in such a hurry and making such an awful racket?”

      Fanella!” gasped Adeline, “have you seen Igor? I must find him …” Her words trailed off as she saw the shell Fanella was holding.

      “He gave me this beautiful shell but a moment ago. Poor Igor, he seemed most distressed. I suppose we have that bossy tart, Mirabelle, to thank for that. Heaven knows I have no time for the brutish fellow, yet even I could not help but feel some modicum of pity for him. But look, dear Adeline, how beautiful is this shell! Let us put our ears to it and see if it will speak tenderly to us. Perhaps it will give us messages of home,” she added softly.

      #3237

      Mirabelle, I have come back for you!”

      Igor! How, what …” Mirabelle gasped, lost for words.

      “I jumped overboard the ship and swam back. Sure, you are a bossy tart, but you look so hot when you put that birdcage on your head.”

      Mirabelle reddened. *“Ebanashka!” she cried, slapping his face.

      *crazy person in Russian

      #3234

      “You’re better off without him, really” Adeline said. “Igor would never have settled down with the likes of you, Mirabelle
      “What do you mean, the likes of me?” Mirabelle responded, wiping her eyes and sniffing.
      “You’re far too bossy for a man like that” replied Adeline tartly, pulling no punches.
      “But he needed someone like me to keep him in line! He goes off the rails quicker than a greased mermaid, always looking for trouble!”
      “Well, it’s too late now, he’s gone, and if trouble is what he’s after, then trouble he’ll find. Now, blow your nose and stop sniveling. Come on,” Adeline gave Mirabelle a quick hug. “It’s time for your driving lesson.”
      Mirabelle cheered up at that, she was enjoying the driving lessons. It was something she could excel at without worrying too much about languages and attempting to communicate vague rambling thoughts.

      #3141

      But Mirabelle’s sleight of hand had not gone unnoticed by Fanetta, the middle maid. Tsk tsk, she whispered nervously and quickly busied herself with the chamber pot, pretending not to have seen. She knew it was no good speaking out. The bossy Mirabelle would make her life hell.

      #2996
      EricEric
      Keymaster

        “Blimey! The Pope, eh? Are you teasing me again?”
        Vera didn’t answer.
        “Oh come on! Don’t give me that need-to-know-basis treatment, as much as I love a good riddle, I hate secrets! Are we going to look for the reincarnation of a famous Pope à la Little Buddha? Tell me, tell me!” Bouncing with excitement on the rolling Eggsway made her almost fall head over wheels into a flangeway carved into the muddy track that went deeper into the forest.

        Regaining her balance, she looked ahead to see Vera was already a few meters ahead — and navigating the Eggsway was becoming difficult. She knew she should have opted for the 4×4 model…
        So… Vera wasn’t really paying attention, she would have to try another approach to worm answers out of her. What was so special about this place anyway? Lost continent of Mu, ancient architecture, maybe underwater tunnels… Nothing that would lead directly to the Vatican she surmised… Unless…

        They arrived at a clearing in the forest, where blue glow sticks had been placed in a round pattern. Vera was standing there, after having carefully placed a glowing green rote at the center, staring at the middle of the light circle, and without turning her head to look at her, told Lulla “Here’s your answer coming.”

        A huge buzzing throb started to fill the air, sounding to concentrate at a focal point not higher than 10 inches above the ground, at the exact center of the blue circle. It begun sparkling and * BooM *, in all its slimy tentaculeous glory, a spaceship was there.

        “Special delivery from our alien friends” Vera said, finally deigning to look at Lulla.

        The rather small spaceship started to slowly expand, becoming larger, until an opening appeared, letting a form emerge from the membranous appearance of the hull. The form which looked like some person was suddenly dropped unceremoniously with a * Plop! * while the spacecraft elastically recovered its initial shape.
        Moments later, it was gone, and with it the buzzing sound.
        The green rote payment was gone too. Greedy aliens.

        “Come on, let’s bag this guy and bring him home for phase 2. A red convertible SUV is waiting for us at the portal’s entrance.”
        So, that’s where I come in… Lulla was starting to wonder what was the use of her being here, since Vera was so bossy and secretive. But now,… Of course she was better at hatting, but she could call herself without bragging a real bagging specialist.

        #2861

        In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

        EricEric
        Keymaster

          “Feels a bit empty now, doesn’t it? A bit of bloody hoarding wasn’t all that bad after all,” Elizabeth now mused amused, while her newly acquired pet lemur was massaging her cheeks with velvety paws.
          swat
          All had been oddly strange lately. She’d even felt in the mood for some sweeping,… not to mention managing to remind something to her editor.
          swat
          That was a first, as memory matters had usually been all shades of grey for her.
          swat SWAT!
          What next she would create, she wondered.

          The drowsy lemur voiced a shriek of panicked anguish when she abruptly left her armchair.
          “Oh, you bloody shush now, don’t get all bossy on me just because I forgot where I put my bloody satisfied-or-your-money-back coupon.”
          Malicious as it were, the lemur had been for a purpose, and was quite good at it. Fly swatting. She wasn’t getting a refund on the rascal, dead flies were piling around, almost blocking the door, and that was a sight she reveled in.

          #2720

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          Not far from there, Buckberry had found a nice shrub of ripe and juicy buckberries, probably the very last of the season, and he was torn between his duties towards sweet (albeit bossy) Arona, and his voracious appetite for said fruity treats.

          Not only that, but as improbable as it seems, he had managed to crack the riddle of the double U followed by strings of letters to finish in a N… He was actually going to collect Vincentius in the apparently good, but finally not so good place, and go to the true destination followed by Yickesy and the bunch. Surely, being a flying beast had its advantages, even compared to being a semi-god.

          Speaking of which, Vicentius was at the moment in hot waters, surrounded by a crowd of hapries (a merrier version of harpies), who were dying for a taste of the guy.
          Aaah, too bad for the juicy shrub, but surely Arona would be devastated by the loss of her chippendale, and even a dragon could not afford that.

          #2705

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          EricEric
          Keymaster

            “And what about Waterfringingmelon in Welsh, is that still too short?”“, Mrs bossy-pants Janet asked when she heard of the objections, still too lazy to recount the number of letters in between the W and the N.

            #2688

            In reply to: Strings of Nines

            EricEric
            Keymaster

              With a temper he may have inherited from his mother (albeit adoptive), the shanghaied boy was proving to be quite a hassle to contend with. Minky was exhausted.

              First Yikes (that was the given name of the boy) had cried, pouted, and when gagged enough so that he wouldn’t be heard, he had then refused to walk, and even threatened to hold his breath till he would die. Good luck with this one, had laughed Minky (who had tried it before, but it never worked, and bossy old Messmeerah had promptly kicked him back to work). Actually, he was more annoyed with the refusing to walk kind of tantrum, because that meant he had to trudge with the boy on his back or on a luge, all the way to the evil lair —which wasn’t that evil, by the way, if you managed to focus away from the bloody stained altar…

              But there was something more serious he was quite anxious about —besides his bossy and irritable, though everlastingly beauteous, boss. He feared a certain purple dragon was on their trail…

              If I were you, came the ruffled sound from the makeshift luge that wouldn’t be the dragon I’d be worried about… Yikes was inwardly beautifully laughing (a trait he may have inherited by osmosis from Arona) thinking of how terrible Mandrake could be if asked to fetch something —a task he was too proud to refuse, and yet that he loathed to accomplish, as it was more fit to a canine than to his subtle feline standard.

              #2655

              In reply to: Strings of Nines

              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                “Hear that?”

                “What?” Yikesy looked puzzled.

                “Shush!” said Arona, in a rather bossy way. “Yes! Can’t you hear it! It is Vincentius singing in his exceptionally melodic voice! He must be nearby!”

                “Weeeeeee Haaaaaaaa!” shouted Yikesy.

                #2358

                “At least the witch didn’t say my voice was bossy for once” Pee was always finding comfort in the little satisfactions of life.

                “Dad! I want to come with you!” Pickel, their young son was rather keen on the prospect to walk in the footsteps of his father, no matter how notoriously difficult to follow they were.

                #2349

                Oh damn, not another masked man! thought Lavender. The raucous voice of the hooded stranger was irritating her. On further reading of the previous comment she decided it was a jolly good thing he was saying nothing. So was it the unrelenting heat which was doing her head in? Or maybe it was Ann’s incessant chatter and coughing.

                “I want to see your real face, Phenol,” snapped Lavender suddenly.

                IT, taken aback by the unexpected outburst from the usually mild tempered Lavender, turned and ran.

                “Goodness!” said Ann, startled. “Was there any need to upset Phenol like that?” She looked accusingly at Lavender, who could only hang her head and cough in reply.

                “You are a bossy one aren’t you?” said the stranger to Ann, and Lavender smirked to herself. “But, don’t worry, Phenol will return soon.” The stranger smiled mysteriously, although of course the others could not see that as the mask obscured most of his face.

                #2250

                Lavender’s embrace had very nearly dislodged Heliptropes curly grey wig, revealing his bald head. The Messengers of the Fellowship were always carefully disguised as bossy old bats, cunningly concealing their true identity.

                #876

                Oh what absoloote rubbish, giggled Elizabeth Tattler, taking another large sloorp from her 4th glass of red wine and putting large determined scribbles through the last chapter of the latest Noovel. It was the continuing saga of the Tifijikoo Island story. She really had to finish it, old whats-his-face was on the telepooh to her daily now, demanding to know when it was to be finished.

                More Sex! he had shouted at her last time. More sex, we want the bloody thing to sell don’t we!

                Well I have shut you up haven’t I, she snorted to herself, thinking happily of Dr Bronkelhampton passed out on the couch wearing a pink dress and mascara running down his face.

                More sex eh? Hooommmm, Elizabeth did not particularly believe in putting extraneous sex in her noovels. At the same time that character Veranassessee was annoying her a bit with all her indecisiveness. And what a bloody mouthful that name was. Was it too late to change it? hooommm probably. She had modelled her roughly on the cleaner, Finnley, quite an attractive girl despite her pooty face and superior, bossy ways.

                She vaguely remembered something a tutor at writing school had said to her once about writing sex scenes … what was his name? Emonel … no that was not quite right … Meenol! That was it!

                Make your writing detailed, with accurate depiction of suction noises

                Elizabeth broke into fits of laughter, slamming her fist on the desk gleefully and startling Robert X. (Unfortunately the fainting Mongoats had been banned from the building by that nasty Mr Arak)

                You know Robbie-pooh what is wrong with this?

                Robbie-Pooh, Robbie-Pooh, cackled Robert X.

                IT’S BOORING, The damn characters never do anything. Right well, time to fix that. She took another few slugs of her wine.

                :fleuron:

                Oh God, said Agent Gabriele. Who gives a shit about the Doctor or bloody magpies. I can’t stand this any longer. I must have you Agent V. He lunged towards her, ripping open her robe and exposing her naked body.

                You are so beautiful. All I ever wanted is you. That’s why I demanded this assignment on the Island … to see you again. I have not been able to get you out of my head. You’ve been driving me crazy

                NO NO, cried Veranassessee weakly, but her body said YES YES

                YES!

                Agent Gabriele kissed her on the mouth, making strange and passionate slurping noises, and, unable to resist any longer, she gave in to his need for her.

                ( Yes, Yes, YES! snorted Elizabeth, momentarily unable to write for laughing. Hooommm what about that Mahiliki? He was pathootic. Did he want the girl or not for God’s sake? )

                :fleuron:

                Mahiliki stared anxiously out at the storm. He could think of nothing but his darling Veranassessee. He must know if she was alright. He must go to her. He grabbed his car keys and drove like a madman to the airport.

                ( Hoommm, thought Elizabeth, I really don’t know anything about small island airports and planes. Well booger that, I will research them later on the internoot )

                You must fly me to Tifijikoo Island! demanded Mahiliki, holding the pilot (who had been sitting out the storm in a little airport building thingy ) at knifepoint.

                Are you mad? said the pilot. There’s a freakin cyclone, or hadn’t you noticed?

                Yes, I am mad, I am mad with love. Fly me there or you are a dead man.

                :fleuron:

                ahahahaahah, laughed Elizabeth happily.

                #571
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  The Sharple girls were arguing again. Shelly Sharples, two years older than Sherry, was inclined to be a bossy girl. They were playing ‘Let’s Pretend’, an old fashioned childrens game that was making a come-back. Feathered hats and musty velvet cloaks were strewn across the floor; silver lame ballet tutus, and voluminous flamenco dresses. Shelly found the disco dress first, and insisted that Sherry dress up as a man, and dance in front of the webcam. Sherry wasn’t pleased.

                  #298

                  The City, year 2257

                  Janice had just awoken from a strange dream, where she was watching big round cabbages being harvested in what looked like Quintin’s father garden. They were all firmly rooted on a black irrigation pole across the garden, and people were using strange devices to turn them all delicately and pick them afterwards. In the dream, there were black puppies too, sleeping in the straw of a kind of hut nearby. And she had seen another creature, and had been surprised first because it was unlike anything she had ever met, even in dreams. It was hairless and brown as soft mud, and was hiding in the neighbour’s garden. Then it had crossed and came to play with her…

                  Janice was lost in her thoughts strolling on the way to the common dome, when she met Rodney, her father’s friend.
                  They had been recently trying with her father Jacob, and also Qixi to connect with their shifting focuses of the Ancients, two centuries and half before their time.
                  Some of them, they had found, had been playing a sort of game of story-telling and clue-sowing… (Janice was laughing as her father’s friend, the scientist Arkandin, always insisted on seesawing instead)

                  Perhaps her dream was telling her that the crop was ripe, and it was time to harvest some from it. She told her dream to Rodney. All at once, he was quite excited and they started to feel they wanted to chat more freely. So they went into one of the Medraw Caps that was available and soon imagined a comfortable environment for themselves to explore more.

                  Janice could hear Al or Quintin complain about how things were getting confusing.
                  She tried to convey to both of them that they could be excited about it, as it was expanding their understanding, but they weren’t very receptive.

                  ~~~

                  Somewhere Al was saying to Becky
                  — The more you try to fix it, the more confused I am
                  — Hahahahah yes! Becky was answering, I guess so! Ahahahah! Al, what a fabulous dance of confusion we do… The Confundo Tango
                  — Ahahah, yes!

                  Al started again to moan:
                  — So who’s dead, who’s the shapeshifter? Who’s the human, who’s the cat? :-??

                  (Rodney was laughing, as for him, he could accept the confusion as much easier, letting him free to wander around!)

                  Illi was a woman, a shapeshifter who shape-shifted into a cat, then, she died. Becky was saying (Rodney added mentally “Now, she is disengaged” as he knew that “death” was a confusing word.) She was an archaeologist
                  — Okay, that’s cool, that’s what I thought, Al acquiesced. Then thought back of what was said of her and wondered… Anyway, it will probably find a perfect answer …
                  Becky nodded
                  — I got lost myself when two Illis appeared, and a grip-thing as well
                  — Because I didn’t want the grip-thing to be dead! Al couldn’t help but laugh. That would have been too easy, like wiggling out. Not using your imagination within the context of objective imagery to sort out “things”…

                  ~~~

                  While Rodney and Janice were seeing that their other focuses were kind of stuck in their explanation, they had time freeze and both decided to come back to their “now” to start from their understanding.
                  A funny thought had come to Janice, that she shared with Rodney.
                  — Oh, the funny thing you know, about Becky having written to Sean
                  Rodney nodded. Janice continued:
                  — It just appeared in my mind just moments ago, at the same time you (well, Rafaela) inserted into the story of Malvina. That Becky would have been asking Sean something, and that perhaps it would have helped him talk to his father in the future.

                  — Well, that Sean is SUCH AN ENIGMA! bumped Rodney a bit excited by the implications.
                  — What do you mean? asked Janice, who just remembered that Sean Doran has a cousin named Dorean.
                  — Who is he? Where is he? was asking Rodney now.
                  Rodney was having a hard time remembering what had been inserted yet in the story about him.

                  So Janice manifested the Wrick family tree in front of them, so that he could see better. She started by manifesting an acorn, then threw in on the grass, and it sprung forth in a little sapling with signs hanging from its branches.

                  — Well, it’s all in the script, answered Janice, he’s Lord Wrick’s son.
                  — Oh boy, I am in trouble again for not keeping up with the facts! Rodney sighed, and laughed…
                  Janice laughed “So that you can surprise yourself again!”

                  Rodney felt thankful for the sumafiness of Janice who was always prompt to display helpful hallucinations and reminders.

                  Janice stopped the growth of the family tree for a moment and started to comment it.
                  — See, in Becky’s time of the reality play, Sean is Lord’s Wrick son, and has just lost his wife Margaret, and got his two young children around their 10s.
                  — When is Becky’s time then? Rodney wondered, I hadn’t though of that…
                  Becky’s time for the reality play is around 2033…
                  Then Janice had the tree grow again, and sprout more branches from Sean’s children:
                  — …Now, Sean is the grand-father of the twins, except than the twin’s time is around 2057 if it had not changed yet. It’s so carefully woven, but it’s fun how it effortlessly came to fit in.
                  TRUST AND ALLOWING AND GOING WITH THE FLOW cried Rodney and Janice in unison, in the realisation of how well all this was.

                  Rodney was beginning to remember it all.
                  — I just remember the part about Sean, so he is still a bit of a mystery
                  — Yes, absolutely
                  — We don’t really know do we why Hilarion didn’t mention him
                  — Oh, there’s also the Margaret newspaper thing… Janice fumbled in her memory to find the proper link that would display the image of the newspaper cut just at the right of the family tree. Adding with a wink “with more dates to get bearings”
                  — Ahahah, I’d love to have pocketfuls of ball bearings said Rodney who manifested a pocketful to distract him from the load of information. OH YES! he cried, I had forgetten about this! What an incredibly HUGE story this is…

                  Rodney was squinting his dream eyes
                  — So, Sean was into humanitarian effort after 2001…
                  — His father actually I think, said Janice. He was a bit too young.
                  — Oh OK, I misread, that’s hard to read!

                  Then, all of a second, Rodney erupted in an uproarious laugh
                  AHAHAHA, I had just forgotten to de-hallucinate these pince-nez spectacles! Now, it is much easier to read!
                  Janice was laughing so hard, she thought she would shatter the hallucination with the wobbles of the soundless sounds.
                  Then she added:

                  Sean is born around 2000, a bit before.
                  — OK, maybe he went to help the Tuaregs, Rodney was accessing some information now. Maybe he was the one who put the mummy in the locked room that India found.
                  — You know I had something funny in store for the mummy mystery, Janice couldn’t help but laugh again. I imagined we could have inserted Old Manon, coming down to secretly drink from her old malt whiskey’s flask, and finding them messing up with her old dear stuffed cat…
                  — Maybe the mummy was the same one that Dory saw in the oblong hole in the ground outside the cave, Rodney was still accessing flickering images swirling around his head. And Sean was there helping the Tuaregs and moved it to safety.
                  Of course, years previously, Illi Fergusson, the archeologist had buried the mummy there too for safe keeping.

                  Now, Janice was hooked:
                  — Was it where Illi learned about shapeshifting tricks from the old tribe?
                  Rodney noticed Janice’s funny remark and laughed before continuing:
                  — The Tuaregs were conducting secret coleslaw experiments in the desert. In combination with sound and irrigation techniques, they were going to run the entire Sahara into a broccoli field.

                  Janice was amazed at the cabbage “coincidence” and irrigation stuff with her dream of that morning. Of course she knew there where probably mis-interpretation of the imagery coming from Rodney’s visions, but something made sense.
                  — Around which year? she asked
                  — Arrggh I don’t know!… Then, taking a breath of dream air, Rodney said “1923”. When Illi learned shape-shifting trick, 1923.
                  — It makes sense, said Janice who was now thinking of other dispersed informations about Illi Fergusson.
                  — Yes, she learned from Dashine Ashara… Although who that is, I don’t yet know.
                  — Wow, said Janice. She had felt a connection with the “da’sheen” sound. She continued: somewhere, Illi Fergusson has said: “my parents were aristocrats”
                  — Yes, answered Rodney who was accessing again, they were, and they knew the Wildes .
                  — And it was said too: “[…] a nurturing presence that reminded Illi of the maid she and her parents had in their cottage in South Africa”… like her parents were traveling a lot.
                  — Ah, South Africa! Illi’s parents emigrated to South Africa with Sir Abingdon Portfellow, an elderly scholar on ancient artifacts and embalming.
                  — Seems she knew John Lubbock too, said Janice again, reviving old data banks of information. Dates seem okay, so if she was around 30 in the Tuareg adventure, she could have met him.
                  — Wow, said Rodney, this is even more interesting…

                  “But we may sit at home and yet be in all quarters of the earth.” Janice had just summoned the voice of the naturalist and archaeologist. Rodney applauded “Lubbock said that? cool quote!”.
                  — Yes, like Illi’s quote, which was from him “What we see depends mainly on what we look for”. I wonder if that’s one of your (Illi’s) overlapping focuses, said Janice

                  — Well, Illi didnt stay long in South Africa with boring old whatever his name was, Rodney pursued
                  — Yes, she was young with her parents. They were traveling…

                  They were both amazed at the magical cooperation they were doing at that moment. Janice would have loved to share all of that with Qixi and Jacob, but probably their energies were present at the moment too, though not focused here.

                  She then remembered something else:
                  — Oh, and there is something else! Quintin’s dream of the woman detective. Let me fetch it she said, summoning now Quintin’s memory to talk to them.
                  … by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials. Strangely enough, the woman detective feels linked to the story, and is probably Dory
                  Date fits again, she said in awe.
                  — Perfect! said Rodney. She was of course Dory too, but in that focus she was Illi Fergusson… he slowed down, then said No! wait! The detective was another one of my focuses. The archeologist who stole the mummy for safekeeping was Illi.
                  — Hmmm
                  — Hmmm
                  — So you are both the thief and the detective, the one who creates mystery for yourself, how interesting, giggled Janice.
                  — Yes, and not only that Janice! Rodney was taking a mysterious air… I am the mummy too!

                  Janice bust out laughing imagining Rodney in bandages. Yes, of course!
                  Then, she had a name come with that: Apsh’un Shet she said, very self-absorbed.
                  Now, that was Rodney’s turn to burst out laughing.
                  — “I am not sure about that!”
                  — Doubting my insights… mmm, how rude… Janice frowned then laughed again.
                  — If you call me that, I may have to make you out to have a speech impediment
                  — Sounds a good Egyptian name for me though, seems it means “Light of the Dawn
                  — Does it? Oh that sounds nice…
                  — Well, in some Egyptian dialect, yes. She was a Princess…
                  — Hahaha! Reminds me of Aspen Shit. Rodney doubted Janice could be serious about that name, but Janice was now the one to be accessing some information.
                  — Bit bossy Princess
                  — Which dynasty?
                  III rd, answered Janice, who fumbled in links of consciousness to find some timeline to project for them.
                  — What year?
                  Janice projected the timeline below then said
                  — I’d say around 2657 B.C., in Ancients way of telling time.

                  They both marveled at the splendid team work they had been doing, and hoped that the other focuses involved would be able to get some parts of their insights too.

                  Rodney was seeing something else
                  — There is also, a very fascinating link between Tassili in the Sahara and Egypt which is a mystery AND there is a connection with Egypt and Scotland too…
                  Illi the gripshawk comes from the mysterious land of the Sands, south of the map fragment
                  — We may unravel more than we think… Illi is an other dimensional focus of the Illi essence…
                  — Yes she is. She is a connection too, being “lost” in the land of dragons after hopping through traveling portals…
                  — Exactly
                  — And they communicated because they are helping each other
                  — Which is why she doesn’t always ‘fit’ into this reality’s energy configuration
                  — And they have some difficulties at times with translations of other dimensional stuff
                  — Yes! resulting in confusion!

                  And they both laughed again, looking at the great tapestry of clues that was woven before their dream eyes.

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