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  • F LoveF Love
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      Any background stuff which I feel has relevance to the story … :yahoo_nerd:

      #424

      — The legend of Mævel — (Part VII)

      Today was the Day of the Forgotten. Mævel had slept well, nestled into the soft and warm depth of her dreams, her head resting on the short blue fur of the fox.
      In sharp contrast with the lovely night, she awoke strangely irritated. Even the birds songs were like noise to her ears, and every sound of the forest she heard with acute intensity and a sense of being submerged by many sensory inputs.
      Hopefully, the blue fox voice was still very comforting, and she started to wonder how they could come across a Forgotten One in need.

      — I think I know where we can find some Forgotten One in need.
      — Where? asked Mævel

      The fox paused, then answered her question:
      — Near your human parents’ home.

      Mævel was surprised. She trusted the fox, and never had really questioned him, because more than that she trusted her own feelings, but now her feelings were telling her that there was something the fox had not told her. Or had told her partially. She was silent, pondering the unseen implications.

      — Mæ, I’ll try my best to answer your questions, but remember I cannot tell you everything. I can help you remember some things, but there are things that my curse does not allow me to reveal. You have to find them by your own, in order to free us…
      — Free us? I thought you were the one Cursed?…
      — Yes I am, and…
      — How do you know my parent’s home? How much do you know about me?
      — I know you since you are a baby actually. And even before…
      — Before? I don’t understand a thing… I feel there are some unseen links, that I cannot decipher, yet they are so close to…
      — You’re right, there are links, links that are important, and that I cannot reveal.
      — Why can’t you reveal them?
      — Let’s go to your human parent’s home…
      — Why do you always say my human parents?

      The fox blew in front of him, creating a wobbling sound into the air in the form of a ring large enough for them to go through it. And he hopped inside, disappearing in mid-air.

      Mævel was perplexed, but did not hesitate. She hopped too into the watery ring in front of her and found herself falling into a void, to reemerge on a bed of dry leaves in front of her parent’s home. Blohmrik the blue fox was seated in front of her, observing a shadowy form at a distance in front of them.

      — Is that the Forgotten One we will help?
      — Yes.
      — Why do you need me? You could help her, couldn’t you?
      — She wouldn’t see me, Forgotten Ones are usually obsessed by a few people, those who they feel can remember them, and don’t usually see other people. Their perception is quite different than ours.
      — Hang on a minute… Why do you think she will see me?

      Mævel looked into the eyes of the fox, and she knew.

      — We are linked.

      It was more an affirmation than a question.
      Mævel wondered who that shadowy figure was. When she focused on her, the form was getting more solid, and she could catch glimpses of how she looked like. And she was surprised. She was about her age, with long blond hair as hers.
      Mævel’s voice was broken:
      — My parents had told me I was about to die when I was a baby, then by a sort of miracle, I became healthy… Was that true?… I mean… Was that a gentle way of telling me that I had a twin who died or…
      — No, Mæ. She is not you. She is not linked to you by blood. You can talk to her, she will listen to you.

      So Mævel went to see the shadowy figure. She had stopped wandering and trying to find an opening around the house, for there were none for spirits: all openings were locked by stripes of red cloth hung onto the doors and windows.
      Mævel felt the pain of the Forgotten One as she approached her.

      — Who are you? she suddenly asked Mævel, raising her head at her approach.
      — I am Mævel.
      Mævel… It means marvel of Maÿ… I was born in Maÿ…
      — What are you doing here?
      — This is my parents’ home.
      — How is that possible?
      — Twenty one year ago, I was taken away from them, given to Shaint Lejüs in place of a fairy princess. But Shaint Lejüs was no fool, he had sent his apprentice to spy on the fairy king.
      — Blohmrik?!
      — Yes, Blohmrik… But Blohmrik disobeyed the Elder God, and when he saw the exchange that was about to happen, he let it happen. He wanted to protect the fairy princess from his master. Because Shaint Lejüs wanted the princess as a bride. Ahahaha, how disappointed Lejüs was when he saw that I could not perform the most basic magic spells. I was good at nothing, so he let me go wandering into his Realm. He’d just thought the half-fairy princess had inherited no magic from her father.
      — How do you know all that?

      — I told her, the blue fox said. I was hoping to bring her relief. But she started to look for her parents, and Lejüs discovered the truth… Because she was not looking for a fairy king. She was heading here, year after year.
      — That’s the reason of your curse, is it?
      — Yes. She can’t see me because I was Forgotten too, in that form of a blue fox. But as Forgotten Ones don’t forget, I didn’t forget. I couldn’t tell her, because she couldn’t see me.
      — So, I am that fairy princess you are talking about… that strange idea was starting to dawn on Mævel.
      — Yes. When Lejüs discovered who you were, he wasn’t interested in you any longer, because he thought your magical potential had been irremediably damaged by all those years spent in human company.

      — Who are you talking to? the shadowy figure asked, bemused.
      — Blohmrik, he is here. But it’s untrue, Mævel said, there is magic in me.
      — Yes there is, answered the blue fox, and you can undo what has been done with it.

      Mævel remembered the useless key she had manifested when she had tried to go out of her human parents’ house. She had not even looked at it closely.

      — You can manifest it again Mæ, said the fox. It is with you. You are its lock.

      And no sooner had Mævel thought of the big rusted key, than it appeared in her hand again. But this time the rust on it was crackled, and it started to disintegrate, and a brilliant shiny metal started to show beneath it.

      Scratching what was left of the rust, Mævel started to look at the beautiful key, it was shaped as a musical note, and it had some word written on it, in an ancient language she didn’t know how to read. But she knew the sound when she ran her finger on the surface of the word.

      « Araoni »

      That was her. She was remembering, and everything started to change.

      :fleuron2:

      The wedding of the God Blohmrik, son of Mirÿnda, Goddess of Mirth and of Bälias, God of the Sparkles with Araoni, daughter of the Fairy Queen Theÿa and the Fairy King Aldurion was pronounced on a bright day of Maÿ, in a beautiful orchard in the presence of Araoni’s human parents and sisters and brothers.

      Even Lejüs had been invited, even though he would have preferred to be Forgotten…

      :fleuron:

      And so my story ends… said Captain Bone to Tomkin.

      — And was the shadow remembered by her true parents? had asked Tomkin.
      — Oh, yes she was… Of course. She just didn’t want to steal the limelight from Mævel, you see. Her parents were happy of course to find back their true daughter.
      — You didn’t tell me the name of the true daughter, did you?
      — No, I didn’t, said Captain Bone with a wink.

      #423

      New Venice, November 2101

      Midora was sleeping peacefully in her baby’s bed, and Oscar was dozing on the sofa, exhausted by his new role as a mother.

      Bart was slowly finding himself back to his old studies. Just before Oscar became pregnant with their child, he was occupied with an old parchment his mother Indy had given to him.
      She had said they had found it years ago with Oscar’s mum, her friend Eugenia. It was under a glass frame, among many other stuff she had accumulated along the years, mundane bric-a-brac flirting with sublime antiques —such was her mother strange decorative style…
      Bart had known the parchment all his life, and her mother had sworn he would have it when the time would be right. During all this time he had thought she would most probably forget it altogether.

      When Bill, his father had disengaged, two years before (only two months before the New Century’s festivities, at the age of 79) Indy had said she needed to make some room in her apartment, and get rid of old things which were full of memories. After all, she was only 49, and Bill hadn’t wanted to see her wither in sadness, that would be such a waste.
      She had given him the old parchment.

      Bart had always been so close to his mother, probably because she had him so young. She was 16 when they had married with Bill, and Bart was born right after. Of course, she always played the old flattery trick when people said she must be his big sister; it wasn’t actually far from the truth.

      When he was younger, Bart had fearful dreams, of dying in atrocious pain, full of rash, at a young age in an alien and sunny place.
      Curious as to what hint it may have been, Indy had been connecting with him to the energy of the dream. And together, they had tried to find the reason of that manifestation in the young boy’s dreams.
      Despite her having such a fleeting memory, India Louise was skilled at connecting to other focuses, and particularly group ones, and Bart had found many information thanks to her. And the fearful dreams had disappeared.
      He had found he was a young prince heir of the throne of Egypt, who was supposed to marry his sister. But both had died very suddenly. It was not quite clear as to whether the illness was the result of a plot from their father Pharaoh’s enemies, but the death was very unpleasant.
      So unlike Bill’s disengagement, which was peaceful and full of love.

      So yes, people were not far from the truth when they saw them as brother and sister.
      According to Indy, the parchment was found within a cache inside the sister mummy’s sarcophagus, and might be linked to their shared focus. But her own psychic skills only extended as far as to notice connections, not as to go into more depths. That investigation, he would be able to do.

      :fleuron:

      Egypt, 2657 B.C.

      :tile:
      Lekshen had finished writing down what the long snouted god of his dream, Set had dictated to him.

      It was a strange story, of Set being the god of the pariahs, throwing down structures of the Holy and the Truth, for the sake of expansion. Lekshen couldn’t understand all of what he had been talked into writing, but he had felt an intense activity and thrusts of gushing energy passing through him.

      He needed sleep before hiding the text with the mummy.

      :fleuron:

      Paris, 2007

      :tile: That symbol, Quintin had dreamt repeatedly about it… It was a tile, he was sure. It could be oriented in two ways, and, depending on its orientation, it meant either injection or ejection of energy structures. It was linked to the family of the Speakers.

      Let’s insert it again then, he smiled to himself.

      :fleuron:

      When he connected with the symbols written on the parchment, Bartholomew was astounded. The energy was so familiar.
      There was a book coming from his mother. She had inherited it from her aunt, Guiny… She probably got it herself from her mother Margaret, or perhaps her step-mother BeckyBart wasn’t too sure…

      Finally, he found it. Inside the cover, there was a dedication. To you, dear Becky, happy birthday! With love, Kathy (2017).
      Kathy, Kathy… A flash of a rainbow-coloured anaconda into Bart’s mind… Must have been one of Dory’s friends.

      “There was once a god who was not a god — who was not a god, for you are dealing with legends,” he said, nearly whispering. “There was a god in ancient Egypt, and his name was Seth, and he was disreputable. And he threw aside establishments, whenever other gods rose up and said, “We are the truth, we are pure and we are holy,” this disreputable god stood up, and with a voice like thunder, said: “You are nincompoops!”

      “And the other gods did not like him,” Seth continued in his story-telling whisper, “and whenever they set up their altars, he came like thunder, but playfully, and tossed the altars asunder, and he said “Storms are natural, and good, and a part of the earth, even as placid skies are. Winds are good. Questions are good. Males and females are good. Even gods and demons are good, if you must believe in demons. But, structures are limited!”.

      “And so this god, who was not a god, called Seth, went about kicking apart the structures, and he gathered about him others who kicked apart the structures. And they were themselves, whether they were male or female. Whether they thought of themselves as good or bad, or summer or winter, or as old or as young, they were creators. They were questioners.

      “And whenever another personality set itself up and said, “I am the god before you, and my word is law,” then Seth went about saying, “You are a nincompoop,” and began to kick apart the structures. And so you are yourselves, in your way, all Seths, for you kick apart the structures, and you are the black sheep of the religions, and the black sheep of the scientists, and the black sheep of the physicians, and the black sheep of the your mothers and your fathers, and your sisters and your brothers.

      “And yet, the mothers and the fathers and the sisters and the brothers listen,” Seth went on in that quiet voice in that quiet room. “for they do not have the courage to be the black sheep…”

      Conversations With Seth, Volume 1, Chapter 9, by Susan Watkins

      #393
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        ARONA MEETS THE NANNY

        Dreamily Arona wandered away from the cave, gently holding the sleeping Yikesy close to her heart. Mandrake the cat followed, elegantly attempting to convey the impression he was there by mere chance, and by some stroke of fortune happened to be heading in the same direction.

        Arona had no clear idea where she was going, or what her intentions were even. Still this was nothing new for Arona, who was a bit of an aimless wanderer really herself at heart. She pretended she was looking for magic, but really, she wasn’t so sure anymore what she was looking for.

        Wooha!

        Arona was momentarily rendered speechless by a vison up ahead. The most beautiful creature she had ever seen sat no more than 5 dragon-lengths up ahead.
        .
        Mandrake, she eventually whispered when she had regained her composure, What is this miracle ahead? Is this some maiden’s dream? A heavenly creature come to earth perhaps?

        A miracle sent by God to save you? suggested Mandrake

        His near naked body a masterpiece of bronzed skin pulled taut over rippling muscles.

        Steady on Arona, said Mandrake

        But you know I am no hapless fool Mandrake, to swoon over a handsome stranger.

        No, indeed. And might I enquire why for art we art speaking so oddly? asked Mandrake

        Buggered if I know, answered Arona

        Despite the bravado she managed to display at times, Arona was very shy, and would never have had the confidence to approach such a godlike creature. However at that moment Yikesy started to cry loudly. The god looked up from his silent reverie and smiled.

        Oh a baby, he said in a deep melodic voice. I love babies. He came bounding athletically over and gazed down at Yikesy. My, that is an endearingly ugly baby.

        This is Arona, stuttered Arona, I mean I am Arona, and this is Yikesy, and this is .. Arona looked blankly at Mandrake

        Mandrake looked unhelpfully back at her, with a rather sarcastic little smile on his face.

        I am delighted to meet you. Vincentius at your service. May I hold Arona for a few moments?

        Oh I am sure that could be arranged, snorted Mandrake.

        Arona glared at Mandrake and decided the time had come to pull herself together. I am so sorry for the misunderstanding, she said charmingly to Vincentius. The baby’s name is Yikesy. And certainly you may hold him for a moment.

        Vincentius held Yikesy in his strong arms as though he had been cradling little babies all his life.

        Look this is probably a silly question but you aren’t after a nanny by any chance? Oh no of course you aren’t, said Vincentius, apologetically, seeing the amazed expression on Arona’s face. I am so sorry, just wishful thinking on my part. Please forget I said anything and forgive me for my impudence.

        Well actually, said Arona, frantically attempting to remain calm, I really have no idea how to look after this baby and I did have a bit of an idea a nanny might be quite useful.

        Well this is a fortuitous meeting indeed then!

        But I can’t afford to pay you, she said sadly, unconsciously fiddling with her hair and fluttering her long thick eyelashes.

        Oh don’t worry about that small detail. I am sure we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement, and Vincentius winked at her.

        Arona drew herself up to her full height, firmly took Yikesy back and said; I will have you know if you are going to wink at me this can’t possibly work. I have no idea what a wink means. You will have to speak clearly if you have something to say to me.

        OH bugger bugger bugger! thought Arona. What is it with me and winking. Now I have blown it. BUGGER.

        But Vincentius just laughed good naturedly, and musically too of course. Perhaps we will just play it by ear then shall we? I am delighted to be your new Nanny :yahoo_big_hug:.

        #1552

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          okay serious synchs now as you guys have clearly lost the plot. Plot? hmmmm, silly me, I thought there was a plot. :yahoo_oh_go_on:

          Last night I had a LOVELY dream I gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl and we were so happy and I was so proud of myself. :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause:

          Yesterday, across the road in the park all these cars gathered, funny racing cars, old ones, for some big racing event or other. I was wandering around with a friend, who is more into cars than me, and a bit bored so started thinking of the story. I looked up and on a little yellow car the number plate said “Flynn Hi”. :yahoo_laughing: Of course this must be Tracy I thought because she has said several times now she likes the name Finn, and then she always adds “and the name Flynn”. Then I looked and saw another number plate and it was ‘TTTTTT
          :face-kiss:

          #372
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Becky yawned and blinked. What a dream she’d had, full of babies! :yahoo_surprise: And they had all been squalling and crying at once, making her head spin and deafening her :yahoo_not_listening:

            Well, only a dream she said, and went to make coffee. :yahoo_coffee: Whilst eating her breakfast a little later that afternoon (she had overslept well past noon), she perused the Reality Times newspaper. :news: There was a big advertisement for the forthcoming opening of the new T.R.A.P. Amusement Park and it reminded her that Sean would be arriving soon from Dublin. :bounce:

            Unaware of any association with her thoughts about Sean, Becky picked up her telephone and booked an appointment for a haircut. :yahoo_on_the_phone:

            #1543

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            Jib
            Participant

              And I had a dream last night in which I was opening eggs and there were in each of them 2 yolks!!!
              And I was saying hey I foung 3 of them, but there were more eggs with 2 yolks than 3 :-?

              And I was saying Twins! Twins! Twins!

              :bounce: :bounce:

              #370

              — The legend of Mævel — (Part III)

              When the blue fox had disappeared, deep into the woods, Mævel was left wondering if all of that had only been a dream. Perhaps it was just a dream, and something that would make her parents raise their shoulders in dismay.
              Especially since she had lost their gift carelessly they would say, the little pearl white ribbon…

              She picked up the clothes that were left hanging to dry up in the wind, and came back to the little house.

              Of course, her father Jorg noticed that she was not wearing the ribbon, but he was not much of a question asker, and things were or were not, and analyzing them was unnecessary for him. But of course, Ilga noticed it too, and she felt sad for poor Jorg who had endured so many sacrifices to buy the little ribbon that Mævel was no longer wearing. She wanted an explanation! Was it no longer to Mævel’s tastes, had Mævel lost it?

              So Mævel, who could not lie to anybody, told them her encounter with Blohmrik, the cursed god in the woods, in the shape of a wounded blue fox… and at each of her words, was seeing their faces more and more disconcerted.
              Their poor girl, who was already so different, had completely lost it,… ribbon and all that was left of common sense in her.

              So they locked her up in the bedroom, that she was now occupying alone, as all of her brothers and sisters had left. Just to save her from herself, and see if that would help her gain some more solid sense of reality.

              Mævel understood her parents, but she was deeply contrite that they could not understand what she had lived. Mævel was still doubting the reality of her meeting the blue fox, so she asked for some sign from the Gods before going to sleep, to see clearly.

              That night, Mævel dreamt of a dark-haired young man with a white diadem1 around his head, dressed in a cerulean blue tunic and wearing a sword. He was enshrouded in a warm light and as she took the hand he was extending, they were carried away by a springing scented wind into a meadow of multicoloured flowers, some of which she had not even known could exist. She had felt at home.
              When she woke up, in the middle of the night, Mævel was transfixed by the beautiful soothing dream. She could not remember much more, but he had told her something. That there was deep magic in her, and it would help her find her true home, but that she would have to gain back her true name from the Elder God who had took it from her.

              She quickly took her decision. She knew she had to search for the blue fox in the forest. But how could she escape the locked bedroom? She was starting to feel desperate again, but she remembered that there was some magic in her, and how she had felt it deeply true in her dream.
              As she was focusing on the warm expanding feeling of her dream, an old rusty key materialized in her hand.

              1 diadem: [ ˈdī-ə-ˌdem (dəm) ] from Greek diadēma, from diadein to bind around; akin to Sanskrit dāman rope — was originally a white ribbon, ending in a knot and two strips that were placed often on the shoulders, that surrounded the head of the king to denote his authority.

              #361
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                Chiara and Roselyn were back, back to wherever it was they started from, before they started their little adventure to the island.

                (Where was it again? and was it a dream or did it really happen?) :yahoo_idk:

                Anyway, notwithstandingly, it was an interesting diversion and both were enriched by their experience.:yahoo_rose: :yahoo_rose:

                #357
                Jib
                Participant

                  Yann was thinking about their first kiss. They were not in physical proximity but the sensations were quite real, and it was enhanced by their mergence. When he talked about that with Quintin, his friend told him he had felt it too. He was in Scotland at that time, and they were playing energy games and creating connections. It was very intense and more and more intimate.

                  Yann was in Scotland with his friend Bruno, and one night, as they were sleeping in the same bed, Yann was dreaming of Quintin, he was taking his hand. At that moment, Yann was also aware that his friend Bruno was taking his hand in the “real” world. He’d been thinking that his friend was channeled by Bruno, it was a fun idea :)

                  They eventually planned a meeting in real life as soon as Yann would be back from Scotland… 4 days. Quintin even met Yann’s parents then, as his friend Bruno had organized a “surprise” for Yann’s birthday. When Quintin arrived at the train station, they both were feeling a bit awkward, didn’t really know how to say hello :yahoo_big_hug: :yahoo_thinking: :yahoo_kiss: :yahoo_thinking: well for now a hug was perfect. Yann was feeling a strong desire to kiss his friend, he was very attracted and the feeling was quite different from their energy games in Scotland. The physical proximity was creating barriers that weren’t there before… maybe the fear of being intrusive or aggressive…

                  One thing at a time… they were eventually together for 4 days. It was a beginning.

                  Quintin had some stuffs to take care of before they could go to Yann’s appartment. Something to do with his previous appartment, mail to check, some stuffs to take… Nothing particular to tell about that… Yann let Quintin do what he had to do, though he had a strong desire to stroke his hair. After a moment, that’s what he did.

                  Quintin smiled. Yann was feeling an intense warmth in his body and he approached his head and kissed him. Well, that was awkward :)) but soon they were very comfortably lying on the bed and playing different games.

                  Wow thinking again about all that was making him feel hot. Better go to work a little.

                  #354
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    — But we’ll have to find a pseudonym, Al had said to Becky, as they were discussing the unusual play last day.
                    — Yes! Becky had said enthusiastically.

                    And Al had known he was going to love the surprise that Becky would be finding for them.

                    Now, he was waking up, and the sun was bright and the sky clear above the waters. He’d had dreams of a huge reception, with lots of foods at all levels of a huge building, that people were eating and eating, but still there was always enough for everyone, and more, diversity too.

                    And there was this groundhog day dream before (and a popping blue dot in his peripheral vision as he was jotting down his thoughts, err he always thought jolted, that would make Becky laugh again), and in his groundhog day, he was winning millions in many different ways, but all that money had a purpose to help him in a rescue mission. He could not die before his mission was accomplish, or everything would start again, and again the abundance would be here in the form of millions…

                    When he saw Becky’s last entry, he wished he could hug all of them soon…

                    Yurara Fameliki… I love that name, he said to the noisy bird nesting on top of his window…

                    #353
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Nora Long was dying. She knew she didn’t have long left, and she had some affairs still to attend to before she was no longer able. Nora was a childless spinster, a frugal recluse with an uncanny knack for winning premium bond and lottery prizes; nothing big enough to attract much attention, but more than enough for her needs. Consequently, she had quietly amassed a fortune over the years ~ and she wasn’t about to let the state have it all.

                      Nora had spent most of her 88 years dreaming, and talking to ghosts and spirits. She wrote all of it down in notebooks, hundreds and hundreds of them, until the advent of the computer in more recent years. She had splashed out and bought one, and gamely taught herself how to use it, keeping her journals online from then on.

                      Nora discovered how to google one day. Wondering what in the world she might want to search for, a name popped into her head: Yurara Fameliki.

                      Nora had learned to trust her impulses, and she searched for the unusual name, double checking first with the voice in her head as to the correct spelling.

                      Nora began to read the story on the websites first page. Three days later, she was still reading it, as it grew day by day. Nora was almost sorry she had already chosen to die. At last she had found some people she could relate to!

                      But Nora was too weary to change her mind. She did have a plan though, a plan that cheered her greatly. On the websites pages she had noticed a little sign saying ‘Buy a Drink’.

                      #351
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        Tina had a wonderful night of dreams. In fact it was the first time in ages that her dreams had been happy. Usually in her dreams she did not feel any emotion much.

                        The phone rang. It was Becky, although for a moment she thought it was her friend Docky, their voices sounded so similar.

                        I am fine she told Becky, I am so sorry to hear Sam is sick, give him my love when you see him

                        Tina chuckled to herself, remembering how last time she was sick Becky had bought over this big pot of nettle soup for her…

                        Really though, she was so grateful for her friends. Al seemed a bit worried about her at the moment, but then he was such a worry wort, she thought fondly.

                        #1310

                        In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          October 21 st

                          What’s the use of a new-born baby?

                          An interesting reflection is prompted by Armelle about the need to understand things for some of our focuses.

                          « I can do whatever I like with your Stories, give them any Meaning I want. It doesn’t matter… » (Armelle)
                          « Of course! that is the Magic of it » (Rafaela)
                          « And we can see them as Seeds. You don’t need to understand how Seeds work to have them grow » (Yuki)
                          « Yes, in a wild Wilderness. A weedy, overgrown, yet mysteriously lovely Wilderness » (Armelle)
                          « A modicum of Cooperation but largely total Freedom to make what you Want » (Rafaela)
                          « It’s a repository of Energy Seeds » (Yuki)
                          « A weedy, overgrown, yet mysteriously lovely Wilderness » (Armelle)
                          « Yes, that too! Or,… an Eden Garden, with a hovering scaly stinky beast . May it be either an English, Chinese or French Garden, whatever pleases your tastes… » (Yuki)

                          #327

                          The rain was pouring cabbages :weather-showers: for several days now, almost the whole week… Baul was fed up with that filthy weather of Cromash Tur. The capital of this 4th kingdom was quite nice and pleasurable, but it lacked sun and warmth… Baul had come to Nâabooli, the capital of Cromash, in order to settle an arrangement. Something quite particular that he couldn’t find in his own land of Erpet Mesh. He’d been travelling for weeks with his guards and servants when he arrived in the city and all that for some foo’kin rain! But something more important than brooding and pouting was on his mind.

                          Tonight he was alone, no servant, no guard… he was wearing a black coat made of goat skin on his usual blue and yellow silk robe, he couldn’t wear anything else, his skin was too smooth and delicate. He was spending great amount of money to take care of his body, it was his own pride, and he considered himself as a very handsome and appealing male.

                          The man he was about to meet wasn’t hiding, but oddly was acting in full sight. Nonetheless, Baul didn’t want to be seen with him, Baul was an ambassador of sort from Erpet and he couldn’t be seen entering in an Assassin’s house. In Cromash, the Assassins were quite a respectable and wealthy, but in Erpet they were outlaw… one of the numerous differences between the two kingdoms, one they would never agree upon. Baul found it quite useful though; many times he’d met Ar’Am Khra, one of the best of this profession.

                          For this meeting, as always, Baul had chosen a tavern, the Landgurdy, called after one of the former 12 kingdoms. The 4 remaining ones were at war most of the times, they couldn’t maintain peace more than a few years at best, and Baul had found many ways of benefiting of this situation. Merchant, Ambassador, and much more. He was thriving with plotting :face-angel: :face-devil-grin: and it was quite useful to be one of the ambassadors of Erpet Mesh, offering him safety wherever he was going. It was one of the few respected rules that were common between the Warring Kingdoms.

                          The Landgurdy was quite a crowded tavern, and the owner was a friend of his, though not really officially. There was that private room on the rear of the building, know only of a few chosen “friends”, so they could enter unnoticed by the usual customers and by would be spies. The rear door was seemingly leading into another building, and some arrangements had been made over the years.

                          Baul knocked the code at the door, and a vasistas was open quickly and closed even more quickly. The door opened then and he entered in the darkness of the house. If anyone opened the door, he or she wasn’t there anymore, but Baul knew the place quite well as it wasn’t his first meeting with the Assassin.

                          :fleuron:

                          The Assassin was waiting in the small room, square shaped with only a wood table and one chair. No window. One dim lamp.
                          He was sitting on the lone carved chair. His clients needn’t sit.
                          They were mere beggers.
                          The one that was coming now, was quite amusing.
                          The first time he met him, Baul was quite young and inexperienced in his own skills. Though he was quite ambitious, Ar’Am Khra had to admit it.
                          The usual reaction when seeing the Assassin’s pale complexion was shivers and disgust. He was used to it and it was a game that he had enhanced with a little bluish glowing dagger tattooed on his forehead.
                          The dagger was the mark of his profession, though not so obviously exhibited by the others. Cowards.
                          At that first meeting, Baul didn’t react the way his other clients did. And it was not influenced by his utmost concerns at that time. Beside his inexperience he was quite engrossed in what he had called his “mission”.
                          Ar’Am Khra did not know of any mission, there were merely contracts.
                          And he was doing what his clients were paying for.
                          Accomplishing his contract even after the death of his clients.

                          He was remembering of an amusing event.
                          A client had hired him to end the life of another man, and the second man went a few days after to his office to beg him to kill the first man.
                          The Assassin accepted the contract.
                          A few days later he killed the second man.
                          He executed the first one not long after that, thus respecting the second contract. :yahoo_skull:

                          He never questioned the motives of his clients.
                          It was not for him to judge or to understand. Though most of the time he did understand quite well.
                          His main motivation was the payment and his own pride in expressing his skill with subtleties and newness.

                          The door opened smoothly. Baul entered the room.

                          :yahoo_alien:

                          :fleuron:

                          Yann and Quintin had an interesting chat during the afternoon. Yann had some new impressions about the map of Lord Wrick annotated by Quintin. Something about the Warring Kingdoms, triggered by a dream of an Assassin in one of them. It was frustrating not to be in the same room so Yann could show Quintin directly on the map, but with Internet there were some other options.

                          The names of these lands were Ata’Meliu, Dam Adbor, Erpet Mesh and Cromash Tur. These 4 Kingdoms were rather scattered on the Lan’Ork part of the continent, pieces and bits everywhere, though Ata’Meliu was more in the center and the South of the Lan’Ork, Dam Adbor in the East and in the North, and Cromash Tur in the West and South West parts, Erpet was divided in 2 main areas, one located on the Northern land just before the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer, and a smaller one lost in the middle of Ata’Meliu.

                          Yann only had the impression of 2 of the capitals, Naat Medin was the one of Erpet Mesh and Nâabooli of Cromash Tur.

                          Quintin just sent him the map so he could draw some more comments and sketch the boundaries of the Warring Kingdoms. He didn’t know why, but he felt some movements were about to begin, some reconfigurations of the borders :world:

                          #324
                          Jib
                          Participant

                            Yann was wandering about in a pet shop, looking for nothing in particular.

                            Quintin had said something about inserting the shift now… well, that sucked… Yann was in a very bad mood, feeling like everyone was against him, nothing was going as he wanted to, and most of all he had lost inspiration. No desire to draw, or to write anything. His life was not fitting. Or so it seemed.

                            Looking closer to the bird cages, and the birds inside, he was amazed at their similarities and their differences. Their shapes and sizes, their colors was the obvious parts. Their shouting also, it was quite messy, and stridulent. But what he noticed most was their behavior, some were just living their own life, proud of themselves and quite fearful when Yann was getting closer to the cage, and others were just flocking together like they couldn’t live apart. Some were singing, some crying, some just quiet and moving nervously or randomly…

                            He went to the parrots room, it was written babies on the cages… they were like full sized parrots to him, very big birds!!! very colorful and impressive. But looking closer, they were not so healthy, their feathers were sort of dull, and even bad shaped and like the parrot had been attacked savagely :yahoo_thinking:. Not very impressive eventually.

                            A few days ago things had become quite erratic at his work… he had felt a strong desire to change, change everything. First he couldn’t understand that desire and he resisted strongly, but soon he created some uncomfortable manifestations. Breathing difficulties, headaches, itching, and even boredom. He just felt the desire to tell bugger off to everyone.

                            The birds were getting boring actually, he left the shop.

                            Walking in the street among the crowd was kinda soothing his uneasiness… though at times he was like feeling what they were strongly projecting. There was that Muslim woman with her chador, and as she went right past him he had that twinge of anger against her, coming from nowhere, and as soon as he noticed that, he just moved his attention to his energy and it was over, no more anger or polarization. Was it his own feelings or was it from that young woman?

                            Whatever, he just enter another shop, home shop, with little thingies and furniture… all these statues, the ones looking like 1920’s ladies were the most appealing… and there were these fairies also, wasn’t it Fiona who had told him about a dream where she was the fairy princess?
                            :yahoo_daydreaming:

                            :yahoo_alien:
                            Oh! that pic… the man had a blue skin… with dolphins on his face creating shadows… the pic was a blend of sort, very funny, and the man was cute :yahoo_whistling: as was the shop assistant…

                            Time to leave… he went off the shop and continued walking. Bright sun, fresh air, all was clearing. His mood also. He thought again about what he and Quintin had been planning. It seemed something crazy, but it also seemed related to what was happening in his life. Since Vienna, their relation had become closer and closer, and for the most part it was very endearing, very fun and also very intense. All these energies, all this creativity, it had to be part of a bigger picture.

                            :yahoo_oh_go_on:

                            Thinking about that, his friend Dory had told him about a bigger picture once, and he was teasing her about that… but now it was making sense. His abilities to remember his dreams had increased in a way, though most of the time he did not remember his dream in the morning. He’d noticed he could if he was just relaxing a bit and let his attention go back to that dream self of his… At times he had also some weird experiences about parallel realities and shift of perception, like the room is translucent and he can move through it in another dimension, very freaky that one :yahoo_not_listening:

                            #317

                            Ibn al’ Gruk was weary.
                            That lone grake he had seen flying over the desert settlement this morning had baffled him.
                            Usually, such creatures where not migrating at this season, and this one was lone too, which was all the more baffling.

                            The old gripshawk had seen many things in his life, but this was surely a presage of importance. In the myths of his people, the big colourful birds were once thriving in the desert oasis, where they were thought to have appeared in the Old Times. But having been extensively hunted down as food for the gripshawk tribes, they had moved away, and the balance had been broken.
                            It had prompted lots of the tribes to move apart, in search of food and exchanges, and few of them were now still living in the deserts as they did in the old ways. Many of them, for many generations now, had been creating cities on the coast, and the most flourishing one was Chafik’ An, where a traveling portal had been erected by the humans from Lan’Ork to facilitate exchanges and trades.

                            All of that, despite his old age (that his long mop of white angora hair under his chin could account for), Ibn al’ Gruk had only heard all of this through the lineage of his ancestors, but he had seen some of the conflicts that had been created, and he understood that change again was in the air.

                            He felt like he could weave a new tale to entertain the settlement tonight, and perhaps give them inkling as to the new changes to come.
                            For he felt changes were coming, and that they had been in motion already.

                            ***

                            The night was clear, and lots of people had gathered around the big bonfire. They all loved these regular meetings where everyone would meet and share food, drinks and over all, gaiety.

                            He started to drum low deep sounds and cleared his throat.
                            A fit of cough got him by surprise, but it was just a hairball that he spat in the fire, which set ablaze immediately, providing some dramatic effect that hushed everyone down.

                            “In a mysterious land far far away,” started Ibn al’ Gruk, with a growling voice…

                            ***

                            Egypt, 2657 B.C.

                            Lekshen had dreamt of Set that night. The god had appeared to him in one of his familiar forms, that of a long snouted animal .
                            Lekhsen was wondering why the god had requested such a task for him to do, but he was certainly in the perfect position to accomplish such a task.
                            Like Set, Lekhsen came from Upper Egypt, the arid land, and he had managed to get a high-ranking responsibility in fertile Lower Egypt as a scribe thanks to the unification efforts of Pharaoh.

                            But Pharaoh’s daughter had just died… right after her 10 year old brother, and Pharaoh’s himself felt He would not live much longer.
                            Which would mean that the closest male in the family would be likely to get on the throne of Egypt. And that would be bad news for people like him, as the brothers and brothers-in-law of Pharaoh did not appreciate much His policy.

                            In the dream, the strange creature had asked him to hide something with the mummy of Pharaoh’s daughter. It had told him people would forget about how Set was fighting for Ra, the Sun, each night that the bark was traveling on the dangerous underworld waters. They would forget, and would demonise him and his people, and he, Lekhsen would have to write the story, and bury it with the Princess. His status would allow him to do it unscathed.

                            “Would people ever remember they once were One?” had asked Lekshen to the god.
                            “Only you can tell” had the creature answered.

                            #306
                            F LoveF Love
                            Participant

                              Finn moves silently along the path, placing her feet with care. It is more overgrown in the wood than she remembers, but then it is such a long time since she came this way. She can see in the distance something small and pale. A gentle gust of wind and It seems to stir, as if shivering, as if caught.

                              She comes to a halt. The trees are still now, not a leaf stirs. She can hear nothing other than the sound of her own breathing. She can’t see the clearing yet either, but she remembers it’s further on, beyond the next winding of the path. She can see it in her mind’s eye though, a rough circle of random stones, with a greenish liquid light filtering through. The air smells of leaf mould and it is spongy underfoot. There’s a wooden bench, a grassy bank, and a circular area of emerald green moss. Finn thinks of it as place of enchantment, a fairy ring.

                              She reaches the tiny shivering thing and sees that it is a scrap of paper, impaled on a broken branch. She reaches out gently and touches it, then eases if off the branch, taking care not to rip it further. There is a message scribbled on the paper, incomplete. meet me, is all it says now

                              Finn feels dreamy and floaty. She smiles to herself, thinking of the purpose of her mission, feeling as though it is a message to her from the past. She is overwhelmed for a moment with a sense of love and acceptance towards her younger self. Yes, she whispers softly to the younger Finn, I will meet you at the fairy ring. We will talk a bit. Maybe I can help

                              #305

                              Quintin couldn’t sleep.
                              Now he was thinking, he had delayed it for too long.
                              They all had been thinking of it, talking and glossing over it for so long. Some had dreamed of it, feared it, asked for it to bugger off. Lots of pains and struggles, but it had only been clever or not so clever ways to delay the unavoidable.

                              Now, he had an urge to insert it. How come he had not thought of it before. All he had to do was insert it in his reality.
                              Well, that would sure mean lots of changes, but after all, no pain no gain.
                              Or no abundance.

                              ABUNDANCE abun·dance [ ə-ˈbən-dəns ] “The ability to do what you need to do, when you need to do it”

                              That’s how Pasha, a Russian friend of Dory had defined abundance — speaking of Dory, now Quintin was seeing how she was ahead of the herd, and a bit of a coal (slow) mine canary too. Quintin would have changed all the world’s dictionaries to have that new definition everywhere. What a task…

                              Actually, that’s it! Quintin had feared the implications, as lots of people did.
                              It would mean everything would be allowed. Everything would be true, even the most blatant contradictions would be harmoniously living side by side. Struggle would be needless, and all that would be needed to do would be to stop paddling upstream.
                              What a mess it could be for salmons and control freaks as himself.

                              Perhaps worse, it would change everything, even “past” events where everything would also be allowed, now.
                              In-of-body travels (rather than the too classical “out-of-body”), meeting other selves appearing out of nowhere, talking with dead people, or sugarplum fairies, traveling instantaneously to meet Tchaikovsky and have him change his dying swan for a stuffed talking Mother Goose, flying, shape-shifting, manifesting objects out of thin air, the possibilities would be extraordinary… All in that physical reality where everyone was struggling to prove none of this was possible.
                              But if everything would be allowed, then be it! And he would go and live in 23, Dragon Alley, Phœnix Ville, Sunnyvalley with Yann (and the others of course, if they wanted to) and do whatever they wanted to do.

                              OK. That’s a deal then. Release the camouflages, open the watergates and leave the damn dams to beavers and loosers.

                              Let’s insert the Shift, now.

                              And let the fun continue, and worry wither away.

                              ***

                              Well, and what’s that Shift all about?

                              Quintin’s friends Michaela and Elias had said about it :

                              “You are also bored in the experiences that you have created to this point. You have experienced. You have created in the manner that you have designed previously. Now you choose to be creating in an expanded experience, allowing more of your awareness, more of an opening to consciousness, more of your own creativity and your own abilities, and you are discovering that your abilities are within physical focus limitless. You have merely limited yourselves as an element of your beliefs, but as you are also moving into acceptance of your beliefs, you are widening your awareness and you are allowing yourselves to view how many more abilities you hold and how very creative you are, and not creating your limitations with such severity. Those elements in your reality that have been thought to be impossible are not impossible!” 1

                              #276
                              F LoveF Love
                              Participant

                                Whanga the witch crawled out of the narrow entrance to her cosy cave to survey the day. Perfect witching weather she chuckled gleefully to herself; a tad overcast and cold, which made her job much easier, as even the fairies tended a little to despondency in such weather conditions. She noticed a bruise on her left shin and sighed. Whanga was used to this sort of misunderstanding in her job of course. She enjoyed her work, and was proud of what she did, however humans in particular just didn’t understand the service she provided, and were quick to be vengeful. The dream world left her a little exposed unless she remembered to do her protective spells before sleep, and last night she had just been too weary. Still, she thought cheering up considerably, she had obtained another wand for her collection yesterday, and felt sure this would improve her Witch of Loathing ranking.

                                Still feeling a little put out though about the bruise, although this was mainly pride, as she was impervious to pain in the way the humans suffered it, Whanga looked into her glass ball to see what knowledge it would reveal. That little Fairy Princess from the Land of the Far White Cloud was carrying on she saw. Hmmm who was that fat lady with her though? Whanga wondered. She looked very familiar to Whanga, who felt a ripple of uneasiness in her right index finger, a sure sign of danger. This could be trouble ….

                                She looked again and saw a young human female, attacking her violently in her dreams. For a moment Whanga toyed with the idea of revenge and cackled happily at the idea of all the mischief she could cause.

                                Pull yourself together Whanga, said Whanga, drawing back reluctantly from this delightful daydream. Keep on track. You know it won’t get you any points with the high witch adjudicators, it is the fairies you must focus on.

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