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  • Elizabeth wondered, nay, marveled, at how Finnley had read her mind before she herself had even thought it in her own mind in order for it to be read. ... · ID #4504 (continued)
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  • #210
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Today, which was the day of the autumn equinox, had been a bright day over the Orkney Islands, quite unusual for this time of the year.

      Nanny Gibbon had been taking the twins for a walk into the nearby woods of the domain, were they could enjoy the wood dewberries that were ripe and delicious at this season. The twins loved picking them directly on the thorny bushes and eating them until their hands were full of the dark stains left by the sweet juice of the fruits.

      They knew that Nanny Gibbon would pick enough to make some delicious jam, perhaps to accompany some of her famous sweet pumpkin pies.

      When they came back to the Manor, they were exhausted by the afternoon spent in the lovely sunlight. After having washed their hands thoroughly, they didn’t really care for anything else but some sleep.

      But as they moved inside the corridors, Cuthbert noticed he had carelessly left opened his bedroom’s door, and a prick of fear for the precious books had him immediately rush to the room.

      And Cuthbert gasped in horror as he saw his book flown open on the floor, and the old grumpy cat Manfred, asleep on top of one of the blank pages.

      Manfred had the nasty habit of clawing everything, especially the huge soft armchair of Lord Wrick, but his antics were elegantly accepted by the old gaunt Lord.

      When he heard Cuthbert enter the room, the old fluffy cat raised an inquisitive eyebrow and moved very slowly and deliberately out of the book pages, only to reveal the immaculate pages, as whole as if the book had been brand new.

      Cuthbert was thrilled with joy. Manfred had not done anything to the precious book. He would have stroked the cat with gratitude, but the creature had moved out of the room very swiftly for its old age, in a haughty look of total disregard for the little boy.

      At least the book was intact. But what if… Cuthbert wondered… He started to look at the page, and new images started to form before his eyes…

      #206

      India Louise had been switching her own book with Cuthbert’s that night. And as she was exploring some of the stories told in his, he was having a peek into hers.

      Very quickly, he became aware of a whole new continent, in that World, across the Middle Seas. In that continent far North of the one where Malvina’s was living, lived some intrepid people. They were strong with big voices, and a bit quarrelsome too. Their ways had forgotten lots about Magix and they placed most of the value into tangible items.

      The next page, a man was sailing across the Middle Seas with a handful of trusted men. He was a captain pirate, named Båd Al’Guz, which meant, Båd son of Guz. His crew referred to him as Bådul.

      Cuthbert was intrigued by this man, and had begun to discuss with him mentally, asking who he was, who were his people. The same as Cuthbert had been very innocently doing with gentle Malvina.

      But Bådul was tricky, and after a bit of a surprise, very soon discovered that the little boy could be a very interesting informant, though an unusual one.

      And in fact, his information was much more interesting than that which the shamans of King Wulfrick babbled in the most inspired manner.

      Till now, from the mouths of the buck-pelts clothed shamans had only came stupid gibberish that the King and his court gobbled endlessly. Something about “YaWn”, as they said: You animate Worlds neatly .

      How stupid was that? Their only answers were useless to him, they were only telling him that he activated and animated the Worlds neatly, and that, in short, nothing was fixed and he could do anything.

      Well, with that boy, that was different. He was talking about a cave with gilded dragon eggs, and THAT was of a great value to Bådul.

      But of course, he would not frighten the young boy and pretended that his intentions were that of an explorer, trying to discover new shores and new continents, so as to become closer to understand from where he came, and hopefully make people aware of their closeness to each others.

      He was such an eloquent actor that he almost shed a tear saying that sentence.

      As a matter of fact, for as long as he remembered, he had been wandering in many situations, and lots of them had not been very pleasant. Born from uncaring parents, as lots, if not all, of his people were, working as a janitor in a sordid tavern, then as a warden (if not executioner when requested) in an even more sordid jail… Were the Gods to be blamed for that? Well, according to the shamans, he was the only one to be blamed, because he did not accept his responsibility as a weaver of Worlds.

      Idiots.

      At least, he had found his passion. He love sailing, and taking riches for his pleasure. Whatever then, he would take his share, and not care about what was next.

      At least, if he could coax the boy into revealing more about that cave.

      #200
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Lord Wrick was reading a bedtime story to his great grandson, Cuthbert. A huge open fire roared beneath the stone mantelpiece, and cast tall flickering shadows in the dark corners of the room. Cuthbert snuggled in to his great grandad, who pulled the red tartan shawl up under his chin. The Orkney Islands were cold in September, and a chill draught was ever present in the ancient castle. Cuthbert’s twin sister India Louise had already been taken to bed by Nanny Gibbon, who would read her a story in the nursery.

        “Back from the depths of his sleep, the dragon Naasir exhaled in a puff of smoke” read Great grandfather Wrick. “He’d just woven a wonderful dream…”

        A parcel had arrived at the castle yesterday, delivered by a travelling artist, who had been invited to paint portraits of the Wrick family. There was no message with the parcel, and the artist, Bill Jobsworth, explained that an old woman in black had given it to him at the crossroads, asking him to deliver it to Cuthbert and India Louise Wrick.

        #132

        Illi was wondering which way to go. Sitting on a flat rock, damp and cold from last nights downpour, she sighed and shivered. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Hhmm, she tought. I said tought, not taught, she thought, I must be in Ireland. Hhmm, she thought, I said taught not thought, I must be a teacher in Ireland. The thunder rumbled closer. Or maybe I’m a pupil and I’m here to find my teacher. The thunder sounded further away this time, it must mean I’m here in Ireland to find my fellow pupils, she thought.

        Illi sighed. Why was she thinking about teachers and pupils? This was a dream, she could do anything she wanted, anything at all, and here she was thinking about teachers and pupils!

        The rain started to fall, gently at first, and the trees were sighing ahhhh so Illi did too, ahhhh so cool, so wet, so wet… so wet! The fig tree giggled and the olive tree winked at the fig tree, and the plum tree, who was watching, snickered behind the morning glory.

        AHA! Illi was having an AHA moment. I’m not in Ireland anymore. Olive trees don’t wink in Ireland! Where am I now?

        Illi rubbed her eyes. It wasn’t thunder, it was somebody learning to play a harp. She stood up and sniffed the air, trying to pick up a whiff of colour to tell her where the… (gonna get power cut, more later)

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      • Elizabeth wondered, nay, marveled, at how Finnley had read her mind before she herself had even thought it in her own mind in order for it to be read. ... · ID #4504 (continued)
        (next in 19h 14min…)

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