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  • #4526

    There had been more than one occasion over the past few days when Glynis wondered if all the trouble and effort was worth it. As a rule, Glynnis preferred to go with the natural flow of events and trust all was working out as it should, even if she did not always understand the big picture. It seemed to her that once one started fighting for things, well really, there would seem to be no end of injustices one could get involved in. But she cared about her friends and was determined to persevere with the plan.

    “Are you nearly done?” Eleri bounded into the kitchen where Glynis was intently stirring a concoction of herbs in a large saucepan. “Oh my god! It smells disgusting. Maybe the stink alone will scare them off and you don’t even need the magic spell!”

    “It’s not going to get done any quicker with you asking every few minutes,” snapped Glynnis. “I need a mirror.”

    Eleri regarded her with quizzically. “This is no time for vanity, Glynnis!” she said firmly.

    “Very funny. I need a mirror for the invisibility spell. I am nearly done. Oh, and you need to purify the mirror with sage to ward off bad energy.”

    “For sure, I’m on it!” said Eleri, eager to assist and speed the agonising slow process up anyway she could.

    It had taken nearly two days, toiling well into the night, to create the spell to Glynis’s satisfaction. But now it was nearly done and she was excited to try it.

    “Gather round, Everybody,” she called. “We are going to have a trial run.”

    #4461

    Rukshan went into the forest and looked carefully for a particular creature. It was almost nightfall and there should be some of them already out on the branches. The air was cooler in the evening, thanks also to the big trees protecting them from the scorching sun, and Rukshan couldn’t help but think that the climate was really going haywire. One day cold, one week hot and wet. And this bad omen feeling that everybody seemed to get recently. He knew it was time to go, and despite the comfort of Margoritt’s cottage, he was starting to feel restless.

    He was making a lost of noise, stepping on every dry twigs he could find. A couple of rabbits and the crowd of their offsprings jumped away, a deer looked at him as if he was some vulgar neighbour and the birds flew away, disturbed during their evening serenades. But this was the kind of noise that would attract the telebats, small nocturnal animals that you could use for long distance communication.

    He found one on an old oak tree. It seemed to be in resonance with his cracking twigs. Rukshan hurried and caught it before the spell of his steps would dissipate.

    Rukshan to Lhamom: Hope everything’s fine. Stop. Something happened. Stop. Need help organise trip to mountains. Over,” he whispered in the sensitive ears of the small animal. The telebat listened carefully and opened its little mouth, making sounds that no normal ears could hear. Maybe Fox could have, but he would have found it as annoying as the cracking twigs. Then Rukshan waited.

    The answer wasn’t long to come. He knew it because the ears of the creature vibrated at high frequency. He listened into the creature’s left ear where he could hear the answer.

    Lhamom to Rukshan: Father not well. Stop. I’m worried. Stop. Have to go home take care of him. Stop. I send Drummis to help you. Over.”

    Rukshan responded with “Thanks. Stop. Hope everything well with Father. Stop. Have safe trip home. Over.”

    He hung up the telebat on the branch where he found it, and gave it a moth that he had found on his way.
    Rukshan frowned. He have never met Drummis. He wondered if he could trust him.

    #4460

    They heard a loud crash from the kitchen and rushed to see what was the poultry squawking about.

    It was Olliver, who apparently still had problems managing the landing while using his teleporting egg.
    The year that had passed had brought him a quiet assurance that the boy had lacked, even his stutter would not come as often, and his various travels using the golden egg had given him a wider outlook of what was in the world.

    Rukji!” He called —he still would use the deferential moniker for Rukshan.
    “What is it Olliver? Calm down, can’t you see everybody is all tense?” the Fae answered.
    “Something has changed, Rukji. A great opening in the mountain. I was staying in a village I have seen a great blue light in the distance while there, across the sand and rocks desert, beyond the shifting dunes. Something that reminded me of what Gorrash told about his memories from his master. We should go explore.”
    “I’ll contact Lhamom, she may have heard stories and can help us get there until you get the hang of a group teleport.”

    #4457

    It was no shadow day. The sun was right above head, shining its blinding light right through you. Everybody at the cottage was feeling the heat and trying as much as they could to cool themselves down.
    Only Hasamelis didn’t seem to mind. Being a God even a fallen One had its perks. Eleri was glaring at him annoyed while she was profusely sweating. There was always a tense flirtatious hatred, or rather a murderous love between those two, and it kept pulling them together, in a paradoxical way.
    Everyone were glad for the herb cooler that Glynis would decant for them.

    Rukshan was looking longingly at the horizon, maybe (he wouldn’t admit) thinking about the Queen, or for some better place to be…
    But since their fire ceremonial, he could feel releasing the Shards through the burning of the book had awoken something, and danger from an unknown place seemed to be lurking beyond the mountains.

    The Doors to the God Realm had opened again, and he wasn’t all sure it was a good thing.

    #4446

    Margoritt’s left knee was painful that day. Last time it hurt so much was twenty years ago, during that notorious drought when a fire started and almost burnt the whole forest down. Only a powerful spell from the Fae people could stop it. But today they sky was clear, and the forest was enjoying a high degree of humidity from the last magic rain. Margoritt, who was not such a young lady anymore dismissed the pain as a sign of old age.
    You have to accept yourself as you are at some point, she sighed.

    The guests were still there, and everyone was participating to the life of the community. Eleri, who had been sick had been taken care of in turn by Fox and Glynnis, while Rukshan had reorganised the functioning of the farm. They now had a second cow and produced enough milk to make cakes and butter that they sold to the neighbouring Faes, and they had a small herd of Rainbow Lamas that produced the softest already colourful wool, among other things. Gorrash, awoken at night, had formed an alliance with the owls that helped them to keep the area clear of mice and rats and was also in charge of the weekly night fireworks.

    The strange colourful eggs had hatched recently giving birth to strange little creatures that were not yet sure of which shape to adopt. They sometimes looked like cuddly kittens, sometimes like cute puppies, or mischievous monkeys. They always took the form of a creature with a tail, except when they were frightened and turned into a puddle. It had been hard for Margoritt who mistook them for dog pee, but Fox had been very helpful with his keen sense of smell and washing away the poor creatures had been avoided. Nobody had any idea if they could survive once diluted in water.

    The day was going great, Margoritt sat on her rocking chair enjoying a fresh nettle lassi on the terrace while doing some embroidery work on Eleri’s blouse. Her working kit was on a small stool in front of her. Working with her hands helped her forget about her knee and also made her feel useful in this youthful community where everybody wanted to help her. She was rather proud of her last design representing a young girl and a god statue holding hands together. She didn’t think of herself as a matchmaker, but sometimes you just had to give a little push when fate didn’t want to do its job.

    Micawber Minn arrived, his face as long as the Lamazon river. He had the latest newspaper with him and put it on Margoritt’s lap. Surprise and a sudden sharp and burning pain in her knee made her left leg jerk forward, strewing all her needles onto the floor. Margoritt, upset, looked at the puddle of lassi sluggishly starting to covering them up.
    “What…” she began.
    “Read the damn paper,” said Minn.

    She did. The front page mentioned the reelection of Leroway as Lord Mayor, despite his poor results in developing the region.
    “Well, that’s not surprising,” Margoritt said with a shrug, starting to feel angry at Minn for frightening her.
    “Read further,” said Minn suddenly looking cynical.
    Margoritt continued and gasped. Her face turned blank.
    “That’s not possible. We need to tell the other,” she said. “We can not let Leroway build his road through the forest.”

    #4431
    AvatarJib
    Participant

      That sunny day would be remembered as the day the doline shook and trembled.

      The geckoes fell from their rock, cutting all communication between the inhabitants of the hidden world. The vibrations coming from leperchauns know where had swiftly spread into the walls down to the deepest cracks and hidden chambers of the back cave far deeper than any of the inhabitants of the doline dared to show their noses. And Most of them weren’t aware at all of all that empty dark and cold and wet space. At some point, the vibrations gathered and rebounded into the bottom of the deepest caves and came back out in a roar that might have take the inhabitants’ hats off, if they wore hats.

      The bats flew away into the sunlight, blinded and deafened, bumping into each others as their fabulously acute sense of hearing was overwhelmed by the vibrations and the rich harmonics generated in the crystal chambers down below. Some fell, spiraling down as if they had been shot by some anti aerial defense. They fell in the cockroach arena and into the reservoir of dung gathered by the dung beetles, almost crushing Daisy in the process. Her father caught her safe and rolled her like the little dung beetle she was.

      The rats ran away spreading panic like plague, and while some tried to take advantage of the confusion to steal others food, when the vibration kept on shaking the ground around them and stalactites fell like fringe hail exploding into thousands projectiles, they began to fear.

      It took some time for the dust and noise to settle down, long after the vibration had ceased. All the inhabitants of the doline had gathered on the edge of the entrance, not knowing if it was safe to go back home.

      Hugo the Gecko wondered like many of the others.

      What just happened? What if it happened again? Somebody had to volunteer to go see what it was that made that noise.

      But no one came forth, all too shocked by the recent events. You could even hear some calling their families or friends.

      Hugo didn’t feel up to the task, he was too small and fragile. What if another of those big rocks fell on his soft and elastic body? It would explode like a water bomb. Except the puddle would be red. Yet, when he saw little Daisy desperately looking for her mother, something rose in him. Something he had never felt before. Some might call it courage, but Hugo didn’t have a name for it. All he knew was that he entered the doline and went down to the flat stone, calling his gecko friends on the way to follow him. Dragged along by that strange emotion that was moving their friend, they followed and listened to him when he gave them a few instructions. They resumed their place on the stone, except this time Hugo was at the center and began to draw something.

      The inhabitants of the doline had looked not understanding what the geckoes were doing, calling them reckless idiots to venture back into the broken world. But they looked at the strange shapes appearing on the flat stone at the center of the doline.

      Suddenly a voice came out of the crowd. “It’s me! I’m here!” she said and waved her little beetle legs. “Daisy, Mummy’s here!”

      Then everybody wanted to pass a message and the geckoes felt they were making a difference.

      Despite the agitation, Hugo kept wondering. What happened? Someone has to go and see.

      #4260

      You’re a fool, Olli

      His mother’s voice, even now kept haunting him. Olliver was a bit of a fool, far too credulous at times.
      People would think him a simpleton, and, at 17, he would still arch his back when he was around others, maybe a little more now that he’d grown so much, always feeling awkward and unsuitable for anything.

      He wasn’t so clear how the foolish plan had hatched in his head, honestly, he wasn’t very clever. Maybe he was guided. There was no other explanation.

      Slowly, slowly his mother Ethely would exhort him, when he struggled to explain so many things in his head.

      There was the house first. They had come early in the day, paint it with the white triangle in a circle. That meant it was to be demolished soon. The Pasha wanted to remove the ugliness of the town, the old bazar and the cows and chickens pens out of the town’s wall. He wanted a nice clean pall-mall place for his games, with boring clean white walls, and fake grass, his mum told him.
      What is fake grass made of? he asked at the time. It was all he could think of. He hadn’t imagined they could tear down their neighbourhood, or their old familiar house.

      So first, the house. Then the precious package. He liked it, the gilded egg with the strange difficult name. Rukji (that’s how he’d told him to call him, it was more easy) had left a note for him. He didn’t write much, in large big letters for him to read slowly. He remembered the stories Rukji told him about the egg. He used to forget a lot of things, but the stories were always very clear in his head, and he never forgot them.
      Rukji said the egg used to transport people and things to distant places, at the speed of thought.
      Olli had laughed when he told him that, he’d said his thoughts were not very quick. Rukji had smiled, with his nice and a bit sad smile.

      So, he’d thought, maybe the egg could send his house and mum to a safe place, before they remove the house.
      He’d tried to think of it, touch the eggs and its gilded scales, but nothing happened. You’re a fool Olli his mother said, while she was gathering their few things in a large cloth and wicker basket.

      Then there was the tower. He’d thought Rukji would be there, still. He could tell him the secrets surely. But the stern man at the clock building told him he had gone.

      Olli didn’t trust the man, and went from the back-entrance he knew about, up in the tower, to see in case he was there. But he wasn’t.

      It was only the stroke of the 7th hour. And one of the mannequins from the tower moved as he would do, four times a day. Alone, at 7 in the morning, and 7 at night, and with everyone at noon, and midnight.

      Olli had recognized the god of travel, with a funny pose on his plinth. He called him Halis. He had trouble with remembering names, especially long names. Ha-sa-me-lis. Sometimes he would say the names out of order. Like Hamamelis, and that would make everybody laugh.

      That’s when something happened. He’d prayed to the god, to help his mother and their house. But the golden egg with his scales touched the statue, at a place where there was no pigeons stains. And zap! that was it.

      Black for a moment, and then he was in the forest.
      And he wasn’t alone.

      “Free! At last!” he’d shouted.
      Then he’d said “Ain’t that unexpected rusty magic… You tricky bastard managed to zap me out of my concrete shell! now, pray tell, where in the eleven hells did you send us, young warlock?”

      What a fool you are, Olli, you got us all lost he could hear her whisper in his head.

      #4143
      EricEric
      Keymaster

        After only one day, Felicity had managed to vex everybody, Liz’ was pleased to notice.
        That would make her retaliation all the sweeter.

        Even the rude but usually pliable maid had thrown her apron in disgust of the unequivocally condescending comments of her mother about the quality of her sardines muffins and anchovy cupcakes.

        The traitor Godfrey was easy enough to bring back to the fold, with a vague promise of peanuts, and was already working on her first plan. Selloselfing everyone to frighten her mother who panicked at the idea of the zumba avocalisp. She’d seen some reportage from International Geogratis of indigenous populations dancing irresponsibly, and had been living in fear ever since.

        As for Roberto, well, Liz’ still believed he was his best and secret weapon. She knew all to well her mother’s appetite for young and firm flesh.

        #4110
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          Liz’! We’re all waiting for you now, it’s been nearly a week you’ve been soaking in that bath of yours, I’m dreading how wrinkled you may look now, and the amount of virgin coconut oil you will need to moisturize everything, but I digress. Liz’ get out now!”

          Godfrey was supervising an unusual and unexpected commission.
          The Anthology of Her Works.
          It was a working title, but the idea was simple enough, and yet completely nuts and daunting. Put together the massive material that Liz (and her ghostwriters) had amassed all those years.
          That someone would want to sponsor the adventure seemed completely crazy, so they would have to hurry before the anonymous donor came back to his or her senses and realize the whole futility of the adventure.

          LIZ’!” There was urgency in his voice.

          COMING, FOR BLUBBER’S SAKE! STOP THAT RACKET AT ONCE GODFREY OR I’LL HAVE YOU FIRED.”

          Liz’ finally emerged out of the room, in full regalia, with her silk dragon-patterned black bath-gown, definitely a bit wrinkled at the scalp, but overall looking completely re-energized and ready to embraze the magnitude of the work to be done (meaning: ready to boss everybody around to get it done).

          “So what’s that all about Godfrey? Have we run out of peanuts?”

          “Good Lord no, perish the thought.”

          “So why are you here at the table with Finnley and the handsome gardener, what’s his name already?”

          Roberto “ ventured Finnley, modestly rolling her eyes at such pathetic attempt at continuity.

          “Yes, that’s right,… Alberto. Thank you Finnley, you’re a dear. So what is it, that has you all here plotting around? I’m not paying you to roll blubbit’s droppings in batter…”

          Liz’, it’s serious. We have to start…” Godfrey was about to explain the whole thing to Liz’, but suddenly realized she had just given her approval.

          “So that settles it: the Peasland’s story!” He, Finnley and Roberto acquiesced and nodded at each other conspiratorially.

          #4021
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Somebody was eavesdropping on the lacklustre conversation between Anybody and Nobody, although, as surely Everybody would agree, it was hardly gripping.

            Better an oft repeated literary predicament than no literature at all, remarked Somebody, to Nobody in particular.

            Don’t look at me, retorted Nobody with a sniff. I am not just Anybody, you know.

            #3981
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              Speaking of the devil, that was the moment where a screeching car braked on the gravel of the front door. No sooner had Finnley rushed to the door than it flung open to reveal…
              “Hello Darlings!” the infamous and morbidly herself Lady Badul Trump Smith Saint-John Ringo Duchamp Clooney née Belette appeared in a ready to burst red silicone dress.
              Finnley deadpanned “Madam Badul… What a joy.”
              “You can call me Bubbles darling, everybody does.”

              #3624

              In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

              EricEric
              Keymaster

                Godfrey was a supervisor of the miners team. After the landing, and the greetings by the locals, the lucky draw had him and his team assigned to the sulfur mines, which were vital to the colonies to fertilize the plants.
                For him, hardly lucky at all.
                Rotten eggs and smelly fish, he thought, at least one of us will be pleased

                Norbert!” he called “Are all the equipments ready to move?”
                “One more cargo, and we’re good to go.”
                “OK, everybody, let’s get ready to move.”

                Somehow, the outlook didn’t feel as bad,… almost a breather of fresh oxygen and freedom.

                #3592
                prUneprUne
                Participant

                  I don’t know what possessed Mater, but I like the new version of her.
                  She’s a true inspiration. The way she commandeers, how she pays attention to the little things. If she wasn’t so wrinkled, I’d want to become her.
                  She doesn’t seem to need anyone in her life, maybe that’s why she’s so strong.

                  I don’t know how this all happened, but we now seem to do well enough. We have one paying guest (he seems to pay on time too, I don’t know where he gets that kind of money around that place), and it seems we can afford some manservant. Well, that’s something Aunt Idle would call that nice lady, surely not Mater. She was very kind to her.
                  Hope she doesn’t get funny ideas like she should become some sort of Mary Poppins or the like.

                  The way Mater was sad after her piggy passed, I realized having a dog is a huge commitment. I told Battista I lied and I was sorry, but we couldn’t have the puppy. I knew she wouldn’t mind, she likes to keep dogs around.

                  Instead, I thought I could start breeding guinea pigs; they don’t live too long. Everybody thought stealing the fish was just a prank, but I wanted to pawn it to kick-start my business. The sad truth is that it isn’t worth a dime.
                  Luckily, Bert who noticed me, said he would help.
                  I wonder why the only persons I can relate to are more than ten times my age… Sometimes I’m like an alien in my own family.

                  #3575

                  In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    “Did you hear the noise?”
                    “No I didn’t hear anything”
                    “I swear I heard some squeaaa… But you know that already, don’t you” He looked at her suspiciously. “What are you hiding there?”
                    “Stop that, you perv’” She was wrapping her arms around her bosom in a protective manner.
                    “I’m not like that” He moved a few inches away from her, with his back to the gritty metallic wall of their small capsule.

                    Prune was starting to feel bad for the other guy. “You’re Hans, right?”
                    He nodded. Everybody knew their names, it was part of the contract. They also had to accept to be filmed as part of the raffle company’s advertisement plan. So, there was little they didn’t know about each other, despite not having been able to speak to each other until now.

                    The suspension process the company had rented was not the high-grade version, too costly. So they had to age, unlike most of the other richer travellers. Which made it odd, as Hans had grown a huge beard and even two years of aging had made them slightly different. Almost like strangers. There was a comfort in that, knowing they each held something private, a capacity to be someone else, be worthy of being known and explored. Nothing like what mockery the TV show had made of them.

                    “You won’t show me? Don’t worry I won’t tell.” His voice was light, you couldn’t have told he was more than 40.

                    She unzipped her track suit’s pink jacket, to reveal a little ball of fur.

                    “It’s a small piggy. They’re so fragile, I think I did something stupid. But I promised my gran to not leave it. I couldn’t break that promise.”
                    “Don’t worry Prune” Hans said reassuringly “We’ll find a way to keep it safe.”

                    #3441

                    Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, the temperature had dropped of several degrees, making the breeze feel colder. The group had been walking for hours in the bog toward the elusive temple. With the darkness of the clouds, its mirage had begun to fade away. Greenie had said they’d better stop when the image was gone because they could become lost.

                    They had managed to make a wet campfire, and were trying to get warmth from the fleeting flames.
                    “I had a strange dream last night”, said George to Arona who was sitting next to him.
                    She smiled politely, not sure she wanted to hear about the winged man dreams. She considered standing up and being rude.
                    “I was a teenager”, he continued, wrapping himself into his wings.
                    Arona rolled her eyes inwardly, looking around for help. Mandrake was sleeping under her cape.
                    “An island appeared one day on the coast, people thought it was an ancient magic island and feared to approach it. It was visible only for a couple of days. It was such a weird dream.”
                    “Maybe you should write it down”, said Arona.
                    “Oh! Probably not, if the P’hope gets hold of it, I have the feeling it’s not in my interest.” He grinned like a kid. “Anyway, I knew in the dream that the island was still there, it was still reachable. So one day I took my father’s boat. It was a small boat, not made to go too far from the coastline. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. I went into the mist, completely trusting I would find this island that everybody feared. It was rising tide, and I had to fight the current pushing me to the shore. I think it’s a dream who brought me there, a dream of a girl calling me in a garden. George
                    “Is that all?” asked Arona after a moment of silence from George.
                    “Yes, it’s most certainly a silly dream, I’ve lived in Karmalott my entire life.”
                    “You’ll have to work on your dream telling, pal”, said Mandrake, “the punchline is missing.”

                    Nobody noticed how the flames of the fire were dancing into the green girl’s eyes.

                    #3310

                    “Did anybody see Fanella?” Lisa couldn’t help but regularly count her herds (so to speak), and although she wasn’t as authoritative with her friends as she was with her animals, she couldn’t help but notice those last few times that her count was one person short —enough to start worrying her. And everybody knew what worrying did to her.
                    “Oh, she’s probably somewhere lost on one of her walks, I’ve asked her to get me some new plastic materials…” Adeline snapped absentmindedly. “And when did you get back from your vacation?”

                    Lisa ignored the last part. “That’s the thing, she hasn’t showed up for a while now, and I’m starting to get worried…”

                    Everyone suddenly looked at her funny at the mention of the W-word.

                    “Maybe you’re right, let’s go look for her… Last time she was ranting about getting lost…”
                    “Did you check her makeshift atelier near the cave on the beach?” Etienne happened to overhear the conversation and somehow always seemed to know about the whens and wheres of everybody.

                    “I don’t know,… yes, you’re right, maybe we can start there…” Lisa said, breathing deeply “I get a feeling something is not quite right …”
                    She turned to Mirabelle and Adeline “you two are coming with me, you know her better than I do, toot toot!”

                    #3293

                    The whales’ dance on the dark bluish background lit by the tiniest reflection on floating seahorses and other sea creatures, made the scenery look like an eerie night skyline, full of moving stars.
                    The added feeling of weightlessness was empowering, and soon, the three queens passed side glances, barely interested by the words of wisdom of the hologram, and catching each other’s mind, almost asked their question at the same time.

                    Terry was the quickest this time, “Please, please, can you do a rendition of the Name Game with your disco ball lights, we’re all dying to do a dance! Please?”

                    Interestingly, the Hologram didn’t show any hesitation as it started to sing, and the three queens were all glowing as they adjusted their wigs, fins and other appendages.

                    The Name Game
                    Terry!
                    Terry, Terry bo Berry Bonana fanna fo Ferry
                    Fee fy mo Merry, Terry!
                    Sadie! Sadie, Sadie bo Badie Bonana fanna fo Fadie
                    Fee fy mo Madie, Sadie!
                    Come on everybody!
                    I say now let’s play a game
                    I betcha I can make a rhyme
                    Out of anybody’s name …

                    The lights were on, and the dresses glittered, Terry in the spur of the moment added kelp extensions to her wig to match the sardine tones of her suit, while Sadie’s only concession to fashion was a little glowing golden jellyfish that seemed to match her bob cut, and made for a funny pulsating hat.

                    Adamus was on, and unstoppable

                    The first letter of the name,
                    I treat it like it wasn’t there
                    But a B or an F, or an M will appear
                    And then I say Bo add a B
                    Then I say the name and Bonana fanna and a fo
                    And then I say the name again
                    With an F very plain and a fee fy and a mo
                    And then I say the name again
                    With an M this time
                    And there isn’t any name that I can’t rhyme.

                    A chorus of dolphins tried to join, having Consuela burst hysterically into peals of unstoppable laughter.

                    Consuela!
                    Consuela, Consuela bo Bonsuela Bonana fanna fo Fonsuela
                    Fee fy mo Monsuela, Consuela!
                    But if the first two letters are ever the same,
                    I drop them both and say the name
                    Like Bob, Bob drop the Bs Bo ob
                    For Fred, Fred drop the Fs Fo red
                    For Mary, Mary drop the Ms Mo ary
                    That’s the only rule that is contrary.

                    Maurana was shaking her head in seducing moves, pretending not to die of envy of the others, and expecting her turn.
                    And the music went on…

                    Okay? Now say Bo: Bo
                    Now Belen without a B: Elen
                    Then Bonana fanna fo: bonana fanna fo
                    Then you say the name again with an F very plain: Felen
                    Then a fee fy and a mo: fee fy mo !
                    Then you say the name again with an M this time: Melen
                    And there isn’t any name that you can’t rhyme
                    Maurana! Maurana, Maurana bo Baurana Bonana fanna fo Faurana
                    Fee fy mo Aurana, Maurana!

                    And they continued with all sorts of names for quite a while, even some of the whales’ and dolphins’ who were obviously enjoying the interlude.

                    :fleuron:

                    “Did you get all that on video?” Maurana asked Sadie.
                    “Of course I did, the ezapper got it all. Linda Paul and the network won’t believe their eyes, it’s some heavy material! Even better than gold bars!” Sadie could barely believe what had just happened.

                    The whales seemed to have been so thrilled that after a moment of silence, a smaller one broke off the cycle, went to the huge crystal and took a heart shaped shard of it to offer them.

                    “I guess that’s their way of burning a DVD, what do you think?” Consuela was blissfully hopeless with technology, but could also have some moments of brilliance.

                    “We should go now” Sadie said looking up from the ezapper “it looks like some unidentified giant blue crab is coming at us, and we better let the whales handle it.”

                    “Are we going through that awful sewer again?” Maurana was starting to get green at the idea.

                    “I don’t think so, I had Sanso pick us up at the underwater cave thanks to Consuela surprise reconnaissance mission. He just arrived and he just texted me his location. It’s not far from here. He seems to have managed to herd a few octopi to carry us across. Always surprisingly resourceful this one, I might start to like him…”
                    Snapping from her emotions, she continued
                    “Time to say your adieus to 2222 ladies. Tonight, everyone’s a winner. We’re going to be famous.”

                    #3200

                    Irina buzzed for her robot, Mr R. All the elite class had robots. Most nowadays were barely distinguishable from humans. However, Irina fancied herself to be someone who did things a bit differently. The design of Mr R was fashioned on the robots from classic twentieth century literature: his “head” a glass bubble sensor unit with moving antennae, his trunk-section a rotating cylinder with controls on the front, extending bellow arms that ended with mechanical claws and bellow legs with tread tractor units. He was able to move with deceptive speed and agility. Personality-wise Mr R was programmed to be the epitome of deference and tact.

                    “Did you have a pleasant time with Mr Sanso?” inquired Mr R politely. “I believe you have a spot of cucumber on your face. Allow me to remove that for you.” He did this with a deftness belying his dangerous looking extremities. “And how else can I serve you this morning?”

                    “Thank you, Mr R. Mr Sanso proved to be inscrutable as always. Please provide scanning assistance. Target 2121 Time travel mission 2222.”

                    “Delighted to oblige, Ma’am!”

                    Irina scanned the brains of the time travellers. The 3 drag queens were hypnotically sensitive and should be easy enough to manipulate. The girl, Sadie, was more problematic. Her motivation was happiness and her purity of intention meant that she would be difficult to manipulate successfully. Sanso, she knew already, was a law unto himself.

                    Irina felt a stab of fear as she thought of the 22nd of February 2222. (Fear was an unusual emotion for Irina—in fact all strong emotion was unusual—and it took her a moment to identify it.) All the 2’s in alignment. If the time travellers were successful in retrieving the crystal and decoding the information before that date, what would that fateful morning look like? Would Irina herself even exist? Doubtful.

                    Life was pretty good for Irina. In 2222 the Elite were free to pursue their goals—without the confines of the ethical and economic considerations of the old days. They were not confined to human bodies either; they could be robotic, animal or some other more exotic design or mythological creature. It really just depended on how the mood took them. Irina, with the expert assistance of Mr R, was planning in meticulous detail a mermaid-like body, complete with gills and a tail, so that she could travel to an underwater location for her next vacation.

                    It wasn’t like that for everybody though. And this “progress” had not come about without a huge impact on the environment. There were large pockets of people scattered throughout the world who had eschewed the new technology, instead choosing the way of Love.

                    “Looooooooove!” Irina rolled her eyes and Mr R chuckled politely on cue.

                    If Irina had her way they would dispose of the time travellers the moment they arrived. Or better yet, send a team back to 2121 and dispose of them there. Management had forbidden this route, not for any ethical reasons—there were few moral guidelines nowadays—but out of caution. The vote had been close. Apparently there were some documents from the early channellers foretelling disastrous consequences if the time travellers were unable to return to their century. Management had decreed instead that the time travellers must be diverted from their goal.

                    The crystal itself was closely guarded by the whales until the so called Chosen Ones arrived with the key.

                    #3117

                    It was only mere minutes before a clunky coach drawn by a motley quartet of zebras arrived at the spot.
                    “Hello darling,” the dashing coachman greeted Sadie while the footman was already busy ruffling around checking for any pieces of luggage to take.

                    Sadie raised a concerned eyebrow.
                    “Mr Deverte?”
                    “Call me Sanso, darling, everybody does. You should get your drag queens here quickly, so we can depart without delay. The road is long and bumpy till Versailles, there is a promise of snow, and I got word you’re on a clock. Tally-ho!”

                    For a moment, Sadie wondered if the assignment wasn’t indeed a punishment to atone for her preternatural goodness and beauty.

                    #3098
                    AvatarJib
                    Participant

                      “Aaahahah…” Linda Paul ended her laugh abrutptly and looked fearsomely at the three newly dubbed Musqueerteers. “You thought the competition was over, girls ? It had only just begun.”

                      The girls swallowed in unison, all pouting disappeared from their young drag faces.

                      Sadie Merrie will guide you through the Time Sewer Machine, and your next challenge will be to arrive clean and shiny at your destination. A broken nail… A lost eyelash”
                      The crowd of defeated queens and the other clients gaped as Linda Paul’s kept silent longer than necessary.
                      “And you’ll be out. Ahahah. Everybody here will watch you and follow your every moves for this mission. So remain dignified, you represent all the Queens of our time”

                      :fleuron:

                      When Linda Paul had talked about the Time Sewer Machine, Maurana had silently hoped it was a typo for Time Sewing Machine. But her hope faded away like a crying widow make-up when she saw where Sadie Merry had led them.
                      They sadly left the buzz and cheer ups to go through a small door in the backstage of the club. It opened in a dark courtyard. It was already night outside, and a breeze made the young Queens shiver. No light. There was a black hole in the middle of the yard and they could smell what was inside before they could see it.
                      “Phew”, said Consuela, “It’s worse than inside Maurice’s pants”. It didn’t help relax nor clear the atmosphere.

                      They heard the noise of an engine starting and suddenly the lights went on. Maurana looked behind her back and saw Sadie Merry near an electricity board with blinking lights. Their was something shiny about her whole being. It looked like a protective extensible gloss suit fitting her sobre attire and her beehive wig perfectly. It didn’t seem to touch the clothes or the humongous wig, and yet it was moving graciously around.

                      Terry looked at the sewer. The content had begun to turn around and was soon turning fast enough to create a kind of vortex of garbage. “Where are our suits ..?” asked Terry with a hopeful smile, looking around. The older Queen’s gaze killed this hope in a squish.

                      “You have to shout your team slogan, girls”, Sadie said flatly.
                      “A slogan ?” asked the Musqueerteers. They looked at each others, and Consuela giggled.
                      “Wigs for all”, she tentatively offered.

                      Sadie Merry rolled her eyes and pushed them in the sewer which was now glowing purple. She could hear the crowd inside the club chanting “Wigs for all! Wigs for all!” She jumped in the trashole, wishing she hadn’t eaten barbecue pork chops before coming.

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