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  • #2686

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “Fish” said Raxie when asked what she would like for her Fragmentation Day lunch. Fish synchronicities had been sprouting up all over the plaice, sturgeoning you might say, if you were wanting to include the word burgeoning, burgeoning like the gnarly old grape vines waking up and unleashing green on the chalky hills.

      “The synchronicities and connections were like individual blades of grass turning into a meadow, singing and sighing as one in the breezes,” Elizabeth replied.

      “Well this is my own personal meadow” Raxie pointed out “These are all mine”.

      “Oops”

      “Who said that?”

      “Was it that guy over there in the bowler hat and checkered past?”

      “Don’t mention checkered pasts!” Elizabeth exclaimed, “Or the Ooh Dimension! You’ll open the sluice gates….”

      “Antidisestablishmentarianism”

      “Who said that?” Elizabeth and Raxie exclaimed together.

      “I don’t know, but that guy in the bowler hat’s disappeared, and can you see that fellow starting to appear over there? Must be a multidimensional Port Hole or something…”

      “Well, we know what a Froopish and fabulously magical place this is, so it stands to reason…”

      “Reason?” Raxie and Elizabeth were reduced to giggles at the very idea of reason having any standing.

      “A portal to the Froop dimension, here? Wow! Can I see?”

      “You’ll have to wear these goggles. And it will require some stamina, are you sure?”

      “Of course I’m bloody sure” replied Elizabeth tartly. And then she began to intuit something.

      “I don’t need googles*, silly!” she laughed. “I already AM multidimensional, I don’t need anyone elses googles. But it’s ok if you want to wear the googles” she added, not wishing to sound judgemental.

      “Actually, I like this amethyst crystal myself, I like the frequency. I have dreams of amethyst sometimes, they are a delight.”

      “Come and look at this sunset if you want to see a delight,” said Raxie, who was still a bit miffed about the goggles. “Who needs another dimension when we’ve got this one?”

      Elizabeth sighed with speechless awe at the spectacular sunset, a reflection of all her colours, and all her dear ones colours, all blended together with magic aqua and sparks of blue and tones of orange blossom.

      #2424

      Doily said matter-of-factly to her little troop of headless travellers “Fancy a cup of tea?”

      As none of them really cared to answer to the obvious fact that they didn’t have any teapot or sugar not to mention milk, lemon, and of course tea (other than a few random leaves that could have been used as an ersatz) she pursued her inspired tirade “Did you know that the Reunited Landers invented tea-bags by the way?”

      Silence again.

      “I just suddenly remembered, and it’s the funniest thing believe me… Those bloody Yorkies were sent some tea samples in silk pouches and they thought it the next best thing since the invention of boiled water and asked for more!…”
      “Perhaps we should catch the blubbits in silk pouches…” she added after a moment.
      “Frankly, anyone wanting to get home?” she then said with a bit of alarm in her voice “This Eighth Dimension doesn’t really got the promises of fun they sold us.”

      “I was starting to think the same,” Pee answered raucously, startling everyone off their self induced Kuzhedoor trance state.

      #2412

      The Peasland Majorburgmester rubbed his hands with an evil glee.

      Fwick was knee deep in kneading for what appeared to be a lunatic idea bound to failure, and more importantly, it’s been weeks that no one had heard back from the expedition to the Eighth Dimension… And frankly, anyone having spent more than a few days in the Eighth Dimension usually was never to be heard of again —or heard speak anything intelligible for that matter, which didn’t make much difference either.
      In fact, there had been some reports of sightings of the poor souls’ dog, what was its name already, Gandfleur or something equally ridiculous. But a single dog was hardly a problem, and now he couldn’t see how Peasland would be able to avoid the unavoidable blubbits dominion over Peaslanders.
      He’d made that surer than sure; he’d gone again no later than yesterday, concealed under a waterproof floak (a floating cloak for inundated part of the lands), deep into the heart of Peasland’s plains now ridden in burrows to feed the breading mother of all blubbits a healthy dose of blunips. It had cost him most Mungibs he thought he would ever allow to part with, but it was Mungibs well placed. Soon people would plead for a real game changer. And he knew well who would step forward, and it was nothing like those headless twats.

      He was in such a jolly mood, he’d called for a party. Well not officially called that, of course —Peaslanders were such worryworts about their crops and the famine that may occur… But a little friendly gathering to celebrate their heroes gone to the Eighth for answers. What a masquerade.

      He was indeed in such a jolly mood that he took the sinewy and allwardly beautiful Lady Fin Min Hoot by the waist, and invited her to a delirious dance —it was indeed a dandy day for dancing— and for a little after-hour in his carriage when they are done jiggling their bodyparts (at least in public).

      That was then, all tied up in leather ribbons and pillows’ owl’s feathers, when he (and Lady Fin) heard the raucous voice calling.

      Gnarfle !
      Yes, that was it! that was the stupid name of the dog!…

      How come they’d managed to come back?!

      #2652

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        “We walk, Ia’eh and Minkah, Desher and I,” Elizabeth read the email from Hypatia, “ towards the dark ridge of stone where the books lie hidden, awaiting the day they should be found again…..When Cleopatra ruled, the books numbered 400,000…and this, I think, is true. By the time of Theon of Alexandria, an age in which the books were no loner in the Great Library of the Palace of the Ptolemies, which was also no longer, but housed instead the “daughter” library of the Serapeum, they numbered 360,000. Those lost to the Bishop of Theophilus amounted to a tenth of these. But no matter if full half were lost, that Minkah brought out from Alexandria so many amazed me then; it amazes me still. He not only carried them here, but brought back an account of where each cave was sited, and which jars were placed in which cave.”

        “Godfrey, didn’t we know a Minky once, who was a sort of a servant?”

        “We did indeed, Liz, you were the one who inserted him into the story, surely you remember?”

        “Well, the name rings a bell, Godfrey, but where did we meet him?”

        Godfrey snapped his fingers and as if by magic, an excerpt from the Reality Play appeared:

        “Just then a funny little man with a huge cheeky grin appeared and held out a tray. Smoothies! Coconut and berry smoothies, and pink cakes, croissants”

        “Croissants!” interrupted Elizabeth.

        “… and oranges, and a box of cadbury’s chocolates…”

        “Don’t remind me about Cadbury’s” groaned Elizabeth. “I simply can’t bear it that they’ve blinked into another dimension”

        Godfrey continued: “ Dory slurped and munched and gobbled and slurped some more, and underneath where the chocolate was, she saw a brochure.
        On the front cover was a picture of a cave. OOHH A CAVE! Dory loved caves! Let’s go to the cave today, Minky! she said to the funny fellow with the impish grin. Minky winked.”

        “He was going to take Dory to the caves!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Why didn’t I finish that story thread!”

        “There’s no need to wring your hands like that, Liz” said Godfrey soothingly. “You can continue it now!”

        #2408

        In his lab, Fwick was looking feverishly through all his pots and test tubes… he knew he still had some of that mighty vegemyth he brought with him from the Eighth Dimension long ago. He was sure that could be of use in his experimentation with the little spider.

        #2402

        “What?” The Majorburgmester of Peasland almost laughed of surprise at the incongruity of Fwick con Troll’s idea. “You’re telling that this…”

        “Little spider, yes”
        “Contains a potent venom that could wipe the blubbits off the face of Peasland?”
        “Absolutely, dear Majorburgmester”
        “Are you out of your Fwicking mind, Fwick? What breading this nasty spider could possibly bring us any better than a plague of crop-eating blubbits in rut?”
        “I was actually talking of breeding them, sir” Fwick objected
        The Mayor continued unperturbed “Besides, we already have our fierce constable Stoll drill the mythic Eight Dimension for answers.”
        “That would be placing a lot of trust in that foolish venture, I’m afraid to say, Majorburgmester. To date, very few people have managed to return safely.”
        “Oh, who cares if they ever bloody come back Fwick! Come on! All we need to do is extort the answers from his spouse who’s kept all their heads in a safe place, I have no doubt of that.”
        “Well… I wouldn’t place my head on this bet if I were you…”

        “Ah, bugger off then with your stinking spider, and do your bloody experiments… As long as it doesn’t involve my name, and especially in case any misguided and sad assassination should occur, ahahaha. I’m joking of course.” The Mayor’s face (which was framed and hanged on the wall of the Majorburgmester Hall’s main office) suddenly shut any hint of humanity that could have been left on it.

        #1317

        In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          January 21 st, 2010

          About Worlds creating and dreamwalking

          Has it occurred to you that your current technologies [such as social websites] are more than a little reflection of what you are doing as essence.
          It is more indeed, and very useful as an analogy.
          You have, for one, certainly noticed how different the “feel” of certain of these “sites” is, even when you are most of the time surrounded by the same set of friends and relationships? Yes you have.

          Let us call these sites “dimensions”. Yes, it sounds familiar, doesn’t it. You all participate in some manner into these, and you all have persona of yourself in various of these. They compete for your attention, and some of them are more popular than others —these are the ones which offer you the most fulfilling experience, not necessarily the most pleasant.

          In many ways, you connect as essence through these dimensions, which reveal aspects of your personalities, aspects that are not always visible or noticed in a direct interaction. When you congregate through these sites, you also start to realize, you have access to all of the others as essence, either through proxy of friends, or by direct interaction. You are all connected.

          They all have different rules, or shall we say, conventions; you can do certain things, certain others you cannot (or not yet), and others, you can, but they are not well tolerated or accepted.
          We let you do all the fine analogies, you mostly get the idea. The technical rules behind those sites are like your mass beliefs. They are helpful to maneuver your “avatar” —that focus of yourself inside the system— and without them, there would simply be no interest, no interaction, no experience.
          Of course, these beliefs can be bent ; with applications, made by these people wanting to develop new systems plugged into the architecture, to offer new functions, or interactions with others of these sites or dimensions.

          The creators of these dimensions are similar to dreamwalkers; some of them are bent on technology and development of the system at its core, but not all of them. Many in fact come with other intents, such as making the dimension a more beautiful, interactive, attractive or pleasant place. They all work together to bring the experience of the envisioned dimension to the other essences —and at some point, they also choose, themselves to interact, as a focus, fully part of their created dimension.

          Having that in mind, would it not seem natural that you would integrate more functionalities to these sites, if they respond to the promises of keeping focuses interested? What you call “upgrades” are in fact a major part of the conception of these dimensions, and occur quite frequently, either driven by popular demand, or by technical need.
          Such is the nature of the shift you are experiencing, which is above all a tremendous upgrade [of mass beliefs] towards a more integrated experience, without simply dropping the current dimension for another.

          We would finally like you to notice also that even if the biggest of these dimensions are calling for a great part of your attention, you also are attracted daily to countless others, little sites and areas, the purpose of which is different, but not less significant to your whole self.

          #2401

          In the Eighth Dimension, Harvey was contemplating the destiny of his quantum umbrella. It was a sad thing enough to need an umbrella (it was starting to rain all sorts of stuff again), but a quantum umbrella was all the worse. It was never in a definite state, and would appear and disappear from one of its state to the other without any notice.

          It had disappeared once again (to be left in the basket of a bicycle, Harvey believed) when Harvey noticed the detour it forced him to make to take cover had him pass in front of a board saying “The shortest distance between two points is not a straight line, it’s a dream (Indian Proverb)”

          A gift of the quantum umbrella, no doubt.

          #2400

          Phurt knew there was something strange, her previous memory was that she was dead and now she seemed to be perfectly alive and alert.
          The environment was strange, though. It was all full of little balls and she could see many headless people. Compared to them, her size was quite ridiculous and she prefered not to make her presence known for the moment. She will have time later for her projects of conquest of the world. But is what world was she?

          All at her thinking, she didn’t see the creature coming and she almost died again out of fear when it began to breath in the air around. Maybe it was some kind of hoovering creature. She began to feel the vibrations as the dog (who has his head on for a change) began barking to notify his master that he has found the strangest little creature aroud. The master of the dog was a child of New Peasland and when he saw that strange little creature that he had never seen before, he called for his mother, who in turn didn’t know the little creature at all, and she asked her neighbor what it could be, but the neighbor didn’t know as well, so the went together to the mayor who in turn didn’t know what to think of it, but he was sure it had not been spotted before by a mayor of New Peasland, he would be the first, and he asked the kid to entrust him with his find and that he would tell him soon about it, thank you!

          All alone in her matchbox, Phurt started to relax, the last few event had been frightening and she couldn’t do anything to escape her assailants, but the eventually let her alone, even if it was in some kind of jail.

          MOUAAHAHAHAHAH, she laughed of her little spider laugh, which resembled more to a little squircking sound than to a laugh, especially in the New Peasland dimension. She had laughed because the walls of her prisons seemed quite tender and it would not demand her too much effort to get out. But for now, she was exhausted and needed some rest. It was not everyday that you found yourself alive again.

          #2399

          Meanwhile, in the orchard of Tilston Aches, where the travelling Peaslanders just arrived

          “I don’t know what’s brewing in this dimension, but I get a reaaaaally baaaaaaaaaad feeling…” the Aunties kept repeating gloomily to each other.

          #2394

          The poor Peaslanders were utterly disoriented by the blatant lack of sense in the Eighth Dimension. It was such a blessing they had for most of them already lost their head, kept safe by a dear member of the family.

          Once in front of them, the glowing figure uttered ominously:

          “opened everyone eye ball,
          Worserversity nonsense portal deep
          sheila Elizabeth bird gone surprise
          come speak thread
          face cat Godfrey later create”

          And then the figure disappeared in a fit of oink oink’s.

          “I think it’s her shoes that make the strange sucking sounds in the mud” aptly remarked little Pickel.
          “How come you know it was a ‘her’, it could have been a cloud as far as I know…” retorted Autie Toot who never got a chance to get a good look, with her head upside down in her arms.

          “Silence!” ordered Pee Stoll more raucously than he had wished to “We need to concentrate! This riddle may be the clue to the plague of blubbits, can’t you see?!”
          “Well… It’s not that easy, you know” Auntie Looh objected sheepishly, while still struggling with her garments as well as with her head.

          “I think it’s fairly simple” ventured S’illy (whom nobody ever listened to, probably owing to her tender age as well as her melodious voice) “We got to find the Worseversity, they probably have worked on a cure; our contacts there will be a sheila called Elizabeth… and a Godfrey will provide a cat to eat the bird and put us back to our dimension…”

          “Darn riddle!” sweared Pee furiously who hadn’t paid any attention “It’s probably just another bunch of nonsense!”
          “I guess we’ll just go anywhere then!” merrily suggested the Aunts each going in opposite directions while the bird rolled its eyes.

          #2389

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

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

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

          #2381

          Almost unperturbed by the sudden distraction coming from the remarkably head-in-the-clouds Doily, despite her seemingly headlessness-lessness, and applying instead his famous adage, Better stick to one’s own nonsense than follow another’s Mewrich thundered “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll explain about the beard, so that we can all get back to our business, and you out to your quest (and off my home)”.

          “Yes! Will you finally tell us about the bird, the notes, and all that buggery to get to that Eighth dimension and vanquish the darn blubbits invasion!” Pee Stoll almost cried out.

          Carefully, Mewrich reached out for a tiny peacock in his aviary, a poor thing which was plucking its feathers after all that noise, that he may as well have chosen at random from the menagerie.
          “Take this bird, and make it sing four notes, I said FOUR! not one more, not one less! in front of the great portal of Nibabuz and you should be able to get past the old Keeper… JUST DON’T try to interrupt me, by the coils of the great Snakipooh, you rude tart!” “You have to get past the Keeper, but he’s old and a bit arthritic, so all you’ve got to do is have him walk on his beard, and get past him.”

          Dolores was about to add a little flourish, but all of them, the headless Stoll family, and Doily’s eccentric entourage where ushered out of the cave by the angered Saucerer. And every Peaslander knew you wouldn’t anger a Saucerer without having to deal with dreadful consequences. The green wig of Dolores being probably the remnant of one of these consequences.

          #2368

          “Ah there you are at last,” muttered Fwick to the cloaked man. “Before you leave I must get you to sign this form.”

          “What is it?” asked Pee.

          “Good Lord, what the F was that noise!” shouted Fwick, looking around in fright. “Ah! I see you have been endowed with a remarkably raucous voice! You startled me!” Taking some deep breaths to calm himself, Fwick continued.

          “It is a disclaimer … a technical matter, basically saying be it on your own heads …” Fwick paused to chuckle at his own joke, “Ahem as I was saying, basically absolving me from any responsibility should you encounter any difficulties on your excursions into the Eight Dimension, or ED as we Saucerers call it. When you have signed, I can give you the four notes which will open ED for you.”

          #2363

          Fwick con Troll, one of the great Wartlocks of Mungibbs, was quite preoccupied with the situation. This sudden abundance of blubbits was no doubt an evil craft at work.

          Fwick wasn’t extraordinarily enthralled at the Majorburgmester’s idea to send someone through the Eight Portal, as for one, it was quite an antiquated piece of technology which had not been used since the Great Influence of Haitian Henwan, and second, people from the eighth dimension weren’t really easy people to follow.
          Shaped as a big eight, the portal also had some secondary effects of twisting one’s minds into loops of endless wonderment and bedazzlement. Surely no New Pealander in his own mind would dare succumb to these effects so alien to their culture.

          Nevertheless, he was a bit short of ideas, as most of his spells had failed miserably at evicting the thriving blubbits. He was lost in these thoughts when a frantic barking resounded at his door.

          #2354

          There was trouble in New Peasland. A plague of hungry blubbits had wiped out the pea crops. Peas being the main staple in New Peasland, usually mixed with marmite and made into a tasty sauce, meant that the future looked grim for the increasingly hungry New Peaslanders.

          In desperation it was decided to send a volunteer through the portal to the Eigth dimension, where it was rumoured that the inhabitants were kind hearted but rather directionless and random, and would no doubt be happy to be given some pea producing purpose.

          #2648

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          There’s something, er, fishy, about this here dead cow, Sanso surmised. He was still a little fuzzy after his peregrinations in the Dense Dimension. Suddenly he slapped his forehead and exclaimed D’Oh! This dead cow is no accident! He shook his head, as if trying to shake the cobwebs loose. The effects of the brocolli hadn’t worn off completely yet. I can’t beleive I chose the Brocolli from the ‘You Fool’ Jar instead of the ‘Thank You’ Jar. I should have realized, Sanso was still shaking his head, what the ramifications would be of choosing discounting instead of appreciation. D’OH! he exclaimed again. Really, I had no idea how far reaching and all encompassing the effects would be of that Brocolli choice. I suppose it’s no accident the vegetable in question was brocolli, either, with all those probability branches and probable florets.

          Right then Sanso, Old Bean, pull yourself together, he told himself firmly. This here dead cow is a sign. He approached the dead cow slowly, sniffing the ether, in a manner of speaking, for clues. He recalled the Dead Cow Cult
          from another elsewhen, and their affiliation with the Arduino
          Time Travelling Internet Server, and wondered if there might be a connection.

          The Fool Fog of Discounting, caused by the brocolli Choice, in Sanso’s head was starting to clear, and he began to access information. The Cult of the Dead Cow had merged with the Arduino Enterprise at some point, creating an offshoot called the Pirates Association of Time Hackers, otherwise known as P.A.T.H. They had been recruiting members from many times and places, and as usual, had attracted large numbers of teenagers.

          One teenager in particular appeared to stand out in Sanso’s mind, a peculiar young man who went by the alias “Holy Cow”.

          Oh My God! Sanso slapped his forehead again. (I really must get these AHA moments under control, he said to himself, rubbing his bruised head) It can’t be! Yes, it is! It’s Yikesy!

          #2642

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            The Great White Botherbrood were gathered at the Great White Detention Halls in the Alter Skye. Hilarionella was leading a chorus of Ascend With Me; the congregation of misfits and miscreants, scallywags and rebrobates joined in the uplifting melody, hoping, no doubt, to ascend the Great White Stairway to The Circle of The Eighth Heaven. A little known fact was that the doors were open to anyone, although not many people knew that. A feast of watermelon awaited them at the Table of The Ascended Party Fillers, headed by that charming old scoundrel, Saint Toblerone of Germaine. That batty old coot Hoomy was Head Waiterless, which meant there was no need to wait for a table when one arrived at The Circle of The Eighth Heaven, which was just as well, all things considered.

            Telless was waiting patiently for the Watermelon Party to start, having recently been cured of the lisp that had plagued him for centuries, an unexpected side effect of the Less Telleth More course he had eventually completed, despite being inundated throughout the semester with More, rather than Less, translations to unravel and decipher.

            The tables, the watermelon, and other sundries had been procured with the aid of the enigmatic E. Baynoch, whose 21st century mission was to put a spanner in the works, so to speak, of the tightly held exchange mechanism currently ruling the Dense Dimension. He felt it was a key part of the Great Tilt that the inhabitants of the Dense Dimension were experiencing, and had set plans in motion for a new kind of online system in which receiving without exchange was the key factor. An interesting side effect of the new system would be that everyone could get rid of any old rubbish easily, once differences in perception were regarded in a favourable and usefully practical light.

            Lady Paula Adoremyanus, not surprisingly, would be providing rest room facilities, providing soothing energy for those who had over-indulged in the spicy Kwan Yin Chow Mein at the Tables of the Feast of The White Parrot. Having a thousand arms was obviously a great help in her work, considering the quantity of hot spices in the Kwan Yin Chow Mein, and the popularity of her Soothing Energy Rest Rooms.

            #2341
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              As far as the Ooh-dimension was concerned, the shift of Vowellness was probably complete

              “Thank Flove for that!” Ann (or was it Elizabeth?) exclamied. She continued to read the contents of the large manila envelope that had been delivered several weeks late due to the postal strike.

              “Postal strike?” Gordon (or was it Godfrey?) inquired sarcastically. “Ann ~ or is it Liz? ~ surely you just made that up! Do you need an excuse?”

              LizAnn chose to ignore her old freind Pig Littleton and continued to read.

              And she couldn’t find anything new being published by Ms Tattler in all now probable directions she was looking into.

              LizAnn snorted.

              She was of course ignoring the disrupted echoes from the Jumbled Eights thread, which were probably the brainstorming board of ideas of the writer, which she had the greatest difficulty to follow (she wondered if even the writer could).

              Reaching for her handkerchief, LizAnn snorted again. “No the writer bloody can’t follow it” she muttered. “But does it bloody matter!”

              Her own thread and the details of the history of the Wrick family was always sketchy and full of holes;

              “Aha Ha Ha Ha”

              she’d attempted at learning more about the elusive Becky , but she kept blinking in and out of continuity, too quickly for her to follow her anywhere in her explorations

              “Yes, where the devil IS Becky, Gordfry? or is it Godon?”

              #2640

              In reply to: Strings of Nines

              New Venice, October 2117

              Now, where were we? Midora suddenly felt that the need for an agenda was called for. Spread out in front of her were a few collages and some balls of energy from all the links and connections she had found in the stories of her ancestors and gathered so far.

              Since her fathers Oscar and Bart had adopted the twins Hari and Jacq, her usually tidy room had been a mess. Fortunately, the adoption was almost complete, and in a mere week, the twins would then be able to choose another family, which they made clear they intended to do. She felt so appreciative that adoption was no longer bound by traditional laws of responsibility of the parents and ridden by culpability; instead, it was a healthier cooperation between the parents and children, and children were free to go with other families if they felt the desire for a different experience.
              When they’d adopted Hari and Jacq, Bart and Oscar had wanted for a continuation of the experience of bringing up children, which they did not have for a long time with Midora, as she was quite independent from an early age. And in truth, Jacq and Hari were very interactive and playful, and to be perfectly honest, quite a handful; in a few weeks, the apartment would surely seem deserted and empty.

              So, during that time, Midora’s researches on the stories had been put to a halt, and a lots of her energy balls which were usually neatly ordered on her lightboard were now merged for some, changed of forms for others… all thanks to her half-bros. She barely knew were to start to get a better view of it now.

              Let me see… there were a few threads going on there, and all we need is untangle some of them…

              She’d had fun reconnecting with the “Island of Dr Transvestite” theme, but now she found out, her favorite characters Shar and Glor, were now disembodied, stranded in transition, and perhaps waiting to be reborn to a nine-titted alien in the Worseversity after failed attempts of channeling. So far, no signs of developments for them though.

              As far as the Ooh-dimension was concerned, the shift of Vowellness was probably complete, and she couldn’t find anything new being published by Ms Tattler in all now probable directions she was looking into. She was of course ignoring the disrupted echoes from the Jumbled Eights thread, which were probably the brainstorming board of ideas of the writer, which she had the greatest difficulty to follow (she wondered if even the writer could).

              Her own thread and the details of the history of the Wrick family was always sketchy and full of holes; she’d attempted at learning more about the elusive Becky , but she kept blinking in and out of continuity, too quickly for her to follow her anywhere in her explorations.

              Oh, and the Alienor dimension was still going on, though most of its development wasn’t yet showing up. What had happened of Arona, Franiel, Irtak’s father, the gripshawk? And now that Malvina was gone too… She’d found Mrs Chesterhope after her strange amnesiac shapeshifting accident however; and that was encouraging.

              So strange, all of these characters are so alive, she thought fondly, and yet none of them seem motivated enough to project themselves out with force and steadiness into her energy balls which still had a sort of blurriness and haphazardness to them.

              She made the intent to project more energy in the direction of stabilizing the currents of the strands of stories, and the energy balls’ colors started to shimmer lightly. That was certainly the way to go. Which one would be the most alluring to explore and follow?

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