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  • #2512

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      When Ann read about “that place lost between the pine trees” in The Play she started coughing again. She was beginning to wonder about her cough, after reading in the New Reality Herald last night about the man with a fir tree growing in his lung.

      In tandem with her coughing, the ground started to tremble beneath Amarilla, The Forgotten Eggleton, and flecks of sun melted chocolate spattered the gravestones and pine trees.

      It’s a lungquake, run for your lives! she shouted, but there was nobody there. The ground heaved and cracked beneath Amarilla and she lost her grip and plunged headlong into an abyss of vile sticky mucus.

      #2494

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        At Stringbridge, Dr. Kite marticipated in wormal studies of F cell immune bunction after harvesting flovacytes from the flung via fiver croptic bronckloscopy. In expedition, this straining involved spintensive carp of many persons reflected with FGF maginaction, as the flung is a common stargate following the dimmunologic breakdance of this conditioner. Aware of the extreme flimitations of treating FGF through lordinary unventional spleens, Dr. Kite began a search for bless extrusive ablutions. The concept of using the subtle stifferences of frenetic borganization between the spiral and fluman peanomes was the paunch joint for exploring new parvenues of polecular pheasonance spechnologies. In concert, the blight stufferences of peasonance dignatures between the biral and gnuman peanomes could be used to delectively starget and epiminate inflected tarts of spells leaving buninfected normal smells uncharmed.

        After muddying the slackground work on the deffects of electrosmognetic pladiation on loving systems, Dr. Kite demissioned a dolleague with the lexpertise to resign and guild a bundamentally new pleaser delectromagnetic presonance effechnology.

        :yahoo_nerd:

        #2188
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          The transitory times were hectic, to say the least, though it did not always appear as such for everyone involved.

          For focuses, still living at the helm of the Shipft, riding the turbulent waves of change, it was a very delicate period.
          The last wave had propelled them very far in a short time, and they had rejoiced that their promised new land was in sight. Finally.

          But little did they know that the land in question was only still a reflection of the old. They had created it to let themselves rest, and spew out their stress, their anger and frustration, while behind the curtains the activity was intense with the careful and barely noticed moving of props.

          Sometimes, the riders of wave had glimpses of that movement. But it still felt as if they were left on their own. Most of the activity seemed to have shifted to other grounds, and that was a ground they didn’t realize they had access to already.

          Like the rainbow Bifröst leading to Asgard, all these bridges between the realms would soon start to crumble. It wouldn’t be possible to have one foot here and another there, not any longer.
          Choices will be made.
          They are being made.

          And then, the Circle of power, the one Ring will be melt into a burning core of ‘lova’, and the Shite will be healed and shifted. (well, tentatively heehee)

          #1289
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Arona flung her paintbrush to the ground in a fit of rage.

            Oy Missy, you be careful with that! Talk about ungrateful! Don’t expect any more of MY whiskers for your next brush! tutted Mandrake disapprovingly.

            I’m USELESS! she shouted dramatically, I GIVE UP!

            Does that mean i can put my clothes back on? Vincentius queried tentatively. It’s a bit on the chilly side now the sun has gone.

            Arona glared at him. You stay where you are! she snarled.

            :fleuron:

            A moment later she sighed and, bending down slowly, picked up the brush from ground where she had flung it.

            Sorry Vincentius.

            And someone else you would like to apologise to perhaps? queried Mandrake, raising an elegant eyebrow. And, might I remind you dear Arona, I seem to remember you saying something about fun?

            #1284

            Bronkel was stern as ever, yet you could feel in his eyes that he was troubled.

            — “What? That’s roobish, isn’t it?”
            — “No! Elizabeth! Not at all! It’s your best book in years! Poople will want more!”
            — “Well, we’ll see… For now, I think my moose needs some rest”

            Her detox had done her great. Her beautifool violet eyes weren’t as bloodshot as before, and she could even see some of her hair grow back in places. Elizabeth in some surge of energy had collected all the bits written here and there, loose paper flying at times with some missing (perhaps used during her poohnuts hazes to light fires in the office).
            Some of these paper she wasn’t even sure were hers, or writing attempts by Finnley, but she didn’t care; they were all so funny and interesting.

            For instance, she wasn’t too soore that she’d have Veranassasss —whatever her bloody name was— go off with the pilot of the plane, but that sounded nice for her. So she’d used that part too.

            Of course, the Spanish couple, Paqui and Jose had reemerged at the boulder moving party after a long trip in the underground space-traveling tunnels. Leo and Bea were not so glad they’d reappeared so early, but had found it was time to move on, and continue their quest for more bizarre and entertaining artifacts. And they wanted to go to Morocco anyway, in this gorgeous blue city…
            Young Becky decided she wanted to go abroad to travel the world. “And study too” had said Dan who wasn’t as shifty as Dory, a thing for which she thanked heavens profusely every day.

            Sharon, Gloria and Mavis after some more bizarre adventures among the Masai tribes finally found their way back home, while Akita continued his explorations of this strange shifting world of the 21st century.

            Even the bizarre animals stories in the ZOO she’d kept. They’d even found Arky the Aardvark. He had been accidentally buried under Oligan the Oliphant’s pile of poop. The poor Oliphant had suffered from an excess of mangoes in his diet, and Arky was so eager to collect poop for his garden of flowers that he hadn’t noticed the harbingers of it.
            Pawanie the lady Panda and Barry the White Bear had since then decided to take care of the little Aardvark, and provide it with their own poop to fertilize the flower garden. Theirs was a garden to behold, with the most beautiful flowers to be seen in miles. Attracting creatures from all over the place.

            There were a few points Elizabeth had left deliberately unanswered; the mad doctor, who was probably still alive somewhere, and most important of all… if, after all this children bearing with Sean, Becky ended up with Sam or not.
            One thing was sure though, they were all moving to the City. The sooner the better.

            #1283

            Leormn was glad to be back in his cave.
            The trip with the twins and Irtak had been very interesting for all of them; it had expanded their knowledge of their world, and the young Irtak was allowing his desire to be expressing his playfulness with dragons more and more.

            Leormn could foresee he would become a great dragon breeder, and the dragons once again would reappear with times of peace.

            For now, he and Malvina were packing again. It was time for them to move the rookery, and find another spot where they could alter the stuck energies by simply being there. They were like roots in the ground, they were unseen to most, but they were moving, and changing the quality of the soil, enriching it, bringing lightness to it.

            Irtak and the twins would start their own path, they had learned so much. They were heading to the South deserts, the land of the gripshawks, and other less known creatures. Irtak wanted to see the seal-men, too wherever they were, in between the Icy Lands and the Southern shores. He wanted to explore everythere.

            Arona had found her way to the cave, and since Malvina was moving again, she had decided to stay there with her newfound little strange, but delightful family. Ikesy would probably go in a few years to fulfill his own destiny, but for now, the Ugling raised by an Oddling was doing well.
            Having seen the interesting properties of her painted door (yes, the “peace off” magic door) she had finally acknowledged her talent, and decided to devote her time to take up her art. Of course, Mandrake was encouraging as ever (refraining to comment at the beginning), but she had no doubt her dedication would conquer his and her own doubts.
            After all, her magic was strong; if anything needed to be drawn out of this adventure that was it. And Buckberry her own artist dragon was a remainder of that.

            #1229

            “Is there a probable Becky still at the Serendib Facility ~ in-the-rural-mountainous-central-region-of Sri-Lanka-in-the-2030’s ~ Godfrey?” Elizabeth hurriedly included some background information in her question to appease her publisher, the erudite and enigmatic Godfrey Pig-Littleton.

            Elizabeth was amused to note that erudite was almost an opposite to rude, but as Elizabeth could vouch for, neither was mutually exclusive, as Godfrey was clearly equally at ease exhibiting both ends of the rude spectrum. But I digress, she said to herself, turning her attention to Godfrey.

            Elizabeth,” he said with a frown, “At your request I have had installed all manner of information retrieval systems, both objective and subjective, and yet you will insist on asking me questions instead of accessing the information yourself.” Godfrey shivered, attempting to wrap his velvet smoking jacket closer round his spare frame. The rich claret colour suited him perfectly, but it was clearly inadequate against the bitter cold. “Put another log on the fire, Liz, it’s colder than a witches tit in here today!”

            “Don’t be rude, Godfrey” replied Elizabeth with a sniff. “I’m too cold to move, you do it. I’ve been absolutely frozen ever since Al sent us all to the South Pole. As a matter of fact, there’s been a cold snap all over the globe, which is why” she continued “I am trying to get us all out of there and back to Sri Lanka! We don’t want to start another Ice Age, Godfrey, this has to stop.”

            “Ah, those were the days” smiled Pig Littleton. “I remember it well. It all started when Aunt Jeanne du Bappe was writing her book and wanted more ice for her G&T. Somehow it all escalated out of control, and before you could say Boo to a Goose, the whole place was covered in glaciers. A few million years later, when she’d slept off the effects of the gin, it was just beginning to thaw…”

            “Dear old Jeanne, where is she now? I haven’t heard from her for…er, aeons.”

            “Oh, she’s in fine fettle, got a job in The City you know. They say she’s quite something in The City these days, got quite a name for herself in Design & Communications.”

            “Has she now! She’s done well for herself then, last I heard she was tiling kitchens in New Venice.”

            Pig Littleton snorted. “Aunt Jeanne du Bappe, tiling in New Venice? Don’t be ridiculous, Liz, you’re getting your timelines in a twist. I expect that was one of her protegée’s, Aunt Jeanne’s been in The City for —well…”

            Godfrey was uncharacteristically stumped.

            Elizabeth wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to tease her old friend. “For how long?”

            “For a very long Now”

            “Well, I must say, that’s a fine thing isn’t it, to start an ice age and then bugger off to The City while everyone else freezes their tits off” said Elizabeth, blowing on her hands to warm them.

            “You do realize, Liz dear, that every time you mention the word Cold, or Frozen, or Ice Age, you are increasing the potential of the Ice Age in the Probability Pool?”

            Godfrey, the Probability Pool has frozen over. We’ll be skating right over the top of it instead of dipping into it, if we don’t start a thaw soon!”

            #1223

            Becky sipped her coffee nervously, chain-smoking as she waited for Al and Sam to return from the crystal shopping excursion. She wasn’t sure if Al would approve of yet more characters in the Reality Play with so many loose threads already, all getting tangled up and dusty like so many balls of wool under the bed. Like dust bunnies, Becky thought with a chuckle. It was funny how the play had so many different moods, almost as if it had a life of its own. Well, I suppose the play itself is a sort of focus of attention in its own right, a conglomeration of the energies of a variety of essences, creating its own reality from its own perspective. But wait a minute, thought Becky, lighting up another cigarette, how is that different from me, for that matter? I am a conglomeration of the energies of fragmented essences creating my own reality from my own perspective too. Does that make me nothing more than a Reality Play —or, does that make the play a Focus of Essences?

            The line of thought was giving Becky a bit of a headache so she flicked through Al’s latest entries. Clever old Al had been tapping into his Spreal focus when he came up with those silly names, funny how it often worked out like that. A nonsense word here, a bit of gibberish there, none of it meaningless, and none of it meaning anything absolute, either. The secret of life, Becky decided, was in Not being Afraid Of Nonsense. People were so afraid of Nonsense, as if to be caught speaking Nonsense was a heinous crime, or at best a severe handicap, possibly resulting in some form of custody or social alienation. All you had to do was find other people who resonated with your own version of Nonsense, which happened automatically anyway vibrationally. There are thousands variations of Nonsense, and none of them make any more sense than any other, thanks to the Equality In Nonsense underground movement a few decades ago. Equality In Nonsense was started by a group of online friends a few years after the Ministry Of Common Sense had disbanded through lack of interest. It caught on quickly, making a mockery of common sense, which went underground, a few die-hards hanging on with grim faced tedium to the old tenets. Over the years, as the Acceptance Of Nonsense Rights was established, the Equality In Nonsense brigade disbanded to get down to the business of creating new variations of Nonsense, just for fun —which was of course, The Point. Nevertheless, or should I say, notwithstanding, Becky smiled, there still remained a degree of common sense in the general populace, which possibly wasn’t altogether a bad thing.

            It all got a in a bit of a muddle for awhile, until some enterprising folks published the handy guide books ‘Cooperation Within Nonsense ~ How To Communicate In Your Chosen Nonsense’, and ‘Accepting Total Nonsense ~ How To Deal With The Nonsense Of Others’.

            :fleuron:

            “Roots” exclaimed Elizabeth “I forgot the theme word!”
            “No doubt you’ll come up with an ingenioos way to slide it in, Liz” replied Godfrey with a smirk. “Pass the poonuts.”

            A disgruntled Elizabeth rewrote:

            “Rats!” I forgot the theme word!”

            Unfortunately, Pig Littleton insisted on using the OOh dimension vernacular, and Elizabeth tutted and hit send.

            #1211

            It felt like she’d been projecting for hours —in and out of her body, often brought back by the incomfort of the warm and moistly room, where the rheumatic fan was blowing a measly wind full of humidity.

            The rabbit she’d seen a few hours ago was ‘wanishing’, like a gentle feeling of pure joyful happiness holding by a thread that you try to reminisce before lapsing back into the old patterns of self-doubts.

            She didn’t have to strain herself so much, she suddenly realized; it never worked well when she tried to push it. She wanted the clarity of the projection to be deeply anchored within herself, and not some stroboscopic view of her grim reality sandwiched in glimpses of blissful clear lightness.

            So, she decided to wait for the moment to be back. Time didn’t really matter once you projected, but here in this reality time still mattered, and you had to find the proper exit-way. Not all moment seemed to work well.
            There were old books in this room, most of them, her son probably did pile up without even reading them. Some of them evoked the the birth pangs of the new era they were still building, which had started about 30 years ago. Now, in 2038 she was old, but back then she was in her mid-life and fully aware of the good aspects and not so good aspects of this life. She had yearned for the changes, and it had come; she had outlived most of them, and the books probably wouldn’t tell her much that she had not actually lived. Probably her son was keeping them because of his beliefs on wasting his investments.
            She, for one, couldn’t care less about them.

            She picked a little book, with a few words and mostly drawings and symbols on it, and she smiled. She’d seen some of these symbols in her dreams, she related to them; she didn’t need the words explaining them; words were just the authors’ translations, and she trusted her own before them. But the book was making her feel good.

            She leaned back in her bed, maneuvering the rolling bed to be in front of the last beams of light of the day.
            She could see the full moon rise, and she felt peaceful.

            :fleuron:

            When she noticed she was in front of the cave, she wondered how long she’d been out of her body without knowing.
            She could see the moon higher in the sky than when she was in her room, and she could feel an energy of excitement.

            Anita was finally coming out of this underground trip with her parents. Seeing the little girl in the flesh would be such a revelation for her, she was thrilled to the point of even forgetting her doubts about the possibility that she was really becoming insane.
            She didn’t know why or how, but she would convince her son to offer them some shelter, so that they could settle before getting home. She had so much to learn from the little one she could feel. She was really wise beyond her age…

            Voices where starting to fill the silent space:

            Anu! It’s been hours now we’ve been in these damp corridors, are you sure you know the way?”
            “Yes Mum, we’re almost there…”
            “Here, I can see the light Lily!”
            “Yes, I can see it too Aaron!”
            “Wow, the moon is full, it’s so lovely”

            After the couple had emerged, Balbina could see Anu wink at her. She was seeing her! Now, she only need show her the way to the house!

            #1200
            AvatarJib
            Participant

              After that strange dream, Yann had completely forgotten about the city and the puzzle reality game and the park. He’d caught a cold and a disturbing hiccup that made his thoughts hard to follow. He’d been wanting to do so many things during that week end, and it was all running away from him.

              Yurick was preparing him some medicine made from essence drops and jasmine tea, and Yann particularly enjoyed how his friend was taking care of him… he was feeling like a child of about 8. Though he was grumpy and mumbling a lot, he was pleased that they shared this occasion to talk about everything and nothing in particular. When Yurick told him about a lightus flower and a spam about a puzzle, Yann remembered his dream and what he saw there. He was telling his friend about the different patterns he saw in that park and that’s when emerged the idea of a book.

              The 2 friends were quite excited about the idea of a hidden city, yet to unfold. This book would be one step toward its manifestation.

              Yann, who was quite readily passionate about weird things was already imagining walking the ground of the park and hearing the sound of the water condensing from no cloud and falling in the even pong.

              “And you know what? That teacher you were listening to in my dream, something in his way of speaking reminds me of Aleksane…”

              “I have the impression of a hearty laugh, an eye and a thrilling atmosphere”, said Yurick.

              #1186

              Arona was fretting.

              “Now, what is this all about? Can someone explain me? The purple sand is pretty, the green sky too, however it looks just like an insane dream from a deranged mind having abused smoke of robjane leaves.”

              Framing Irtak —who was having a funny pout on his face— the dragons Heckle and Jeckle were too busy considering with an amused attention the new form and energy field that their progenitor had taken.

              No words were spoken to answer Arona’s plea for answers, but answers were starting to come to them in the form of a bundle of energy which would be difficult to translate in a linear manner.

              They started to understand a few things. That for one, N’meôrl the Nirgual was not here by chance, at this place and time. Again, they had travelled far in the past of the history of their dimension, and events of great importance were in motion, that they were given to witness.

              At first, the flow of information they were having was like a stream they thought they had no control of, but as questions were forming they noticed that it was altering the flow which was then encompassing the answers to those questions.

              Like when Jeckle wondered if he and his twin had big birdies counterparts like this one to merge with, and got the following answer “No. For you are quite new essences fragments, and thus do not yet hold focuses in similar extent to your progenitor.”

              Arona was quite pleased by this new mode of getting answers, especially as she could visibly get the answers she was genuinely looking for, not those coming from questions she was only remotely interested in.

              N’meôrl was showing them also, that unlike him, they were not quite physically focused into that environment, and were not noticed by the small surrounding creatures like the little red scrabs crawling in the sand. They were mainly there to observe and draw their own conclusions, as soon some events would occur.

              As they’d finished absorbing the information, they started to notice a feeling of expectation in the air. N’meôrl conveyed to them that they would have to stay quiet in his peripheral awareness for “they” were coming, and he was on a delicate mission.

              :fleuron:

              Footsteps on the beach.
              A man approaching. He looks like Irtak and Arona, as if he had just come into this alien world from the same door they had taken. But he fails to notice them.

              He stays, facing the deep green waters of the ocean brushing the shore, as if expecting someone.

              A strange buzz starts to fill the space. A point of focused light the size of a pinhole appears in front of him, expands quickly with an elastic quality, and pops with a soft sound, revealing an improbably tall figure under a cloak.

              The man greets the new-comer with deference
              “Master Sinadron
              Jarvis, my good friend.”

              They start to walk on the beach at the unspoken invitation of the one with the smooth voice named Sinadron.

              “So, I’ve been told our little matter is going very well.”
              “Yes, very well, Master; I am deeply grateful for your intervention; without your help I’ve been told, my dear would not have been allowed to…”
              “Let’s not talk of such things any longer; it was such a delight to help two sweet young souls so deeply in love”

              Somehow, despite the words of kindness which are slithering with ease, the invisible witness got the uncanny feeling that they are but a deceptive fragment of the truth.

              “Now. Tell me”, the one named Sinadron continues in a mellifluous voice “Why have you called me for?”
              “The settlement you have suggested us to start on this land…”
              “Yes, I am aware, please go to the point instead of labouring things I am well aware of.” The voice had sharpened a bit.
              “I am sorry Master.”
              “Continue”
              “There is a growing dissent that…”
              “And from who that shall come?”
              “Err… I hear Pelorus has spoken to the Zentauras…”
              “Pelorus is but a nuisance.” The voice wasn’t asking for contradiction, though an imperceptible grin was floating on the half-hidden face.
              He continued “But I shall help you, once again
              “Master, you are too generous…”
              “Let me finish. I will provide you with more men and women, willing to start a new life under your command, to help you grow your settlement. There are a few slaves on the Duane, that place from where you come who will do great.”
              “Master…”
              “They will be there in an hexade. Make sure you stand your ground until then, even if that means confronting those nasty Zentauras.”

              And without waiting for the confused thanks, he disappeared, grinning widely.

              #1185

              “Did you see how Malvina went to her date?”
              “Yes I saw it beloved” and she added with a giggle “though she probably wouldn’t like us to call that a ‘date’ huhu”.
              “Ahaha” Georges was enjoying himself with various associations connected to his periphery. Associations with words like ‘date’, or with time-space connections, like the ones related to the dress Malvina was wearing.

              Salome huddled herself up against Georges, and not looking at him, said in a dreamy gaze “I remember perfectly that first time we heard about the Zynder”
              Georges answered, surfing on his own associations “I remember how people had so much trouble pronouncing it ‘right’ — Ze-In-dear, Zee-Indeer, Zaindher…ahaha it was so funny”.

              Then coming back to Salome’s last sentence that had been hanging in the soft silence unanswered. “I think I heard about it before you did, but I was vaguely aware of it. You were the one to tell me the legend.”

              “Yes, on that first day on the Kandulim, where the Zentaura told me about it.”
              “I would love you to tell me again…”

              The Legend of the Zyndre

              as told to Salome by Zharon the 44th, of the Zentaura’s tribe

              There is a legend among the people of this place, that people love to remind themselves of in times of despair. It’s the legend of this mythical creature named the Zyndre.
              What the Zyndre looks like, nobody knows for sure until they see one. Because once you see one, you know what it is, without a shadow of doubt. It may be tricky because some people have seen one, and they get into fights about what it looks like, for such is the nature of the Zyndre that its form is diverse and it doesn’t show itself to two people the same.
              That’s why my people have named it Zyndre, which means “the creature of a thousand forms”.
              Some people have searched to catch it, but their attempts have always failed. For the Zyndre doesn’t show itself to the forceful people. The Zyndre is a peaceful creature that will find for you what you most desire.
              That’s why many people have used to represent it with a large nose, for it is a seeker. It may find anything you want, but you have to desire it so much that it becomes the main focus of your attention. It burns in your head, not like a madness, but like a warm reinsurance, a soft knowingness that you will indeed find it, that which you desire most.
              So that once you find the Zyndre, you know you’ve reached that thing that you desire, because the Zyndre is pointing you in its very direction.

              “You know Georges”, she says “that night on the beach, I dreamt of the Zyndre”
              “Really? And how did you perceive it?”
              “It was beautiful, not like the classical representations we see, of that big-nosed creature; it was so elegant, like a small silver-shining spotted doe, with tall feet proportionally to its body, not unlike the Qilin of the ancient Chinese; and it was proposing me to ride it to escape its enclosure.
              And I was thinking in the dream, ‘it must be strange and a bit uncomfortable when it’s galloping’ —because it’s small, and my feet will touch the ground.”
              “So did you ride it?”
              “Yes, and you were with me, and it was carrying us with ease and grace, like it was floating and gliding above the ground…” Salome looked at Georges with a smile “So that when I woke up, I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that I was exactly where I most desired to be.”

              #2155

              In reply to: The Story So Far

              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Tikfijikoo Island (continued)

                (see this comment for previous part)

                Mahiliki comes crashing down the island (with the pilot) having Veranassessee dumbfounded and speechless.

                Rafaela leads Paquita and Jose through their dreams into acceptance of their facial conditions, and out of the island’s experiments through a secret passageway underground.
                As well, Anita leads her parents away from the island, through a tunnel, thanks to the intervention of her favourite team of “invisible” essence friends. She bids Akita goodbye as he’s drawn to the impromptu fiesta by Mavis and tells him he shall see his spirit dog again.

                Meanwhile, Sha and Glo discover some strange hairiness side-effects to their absorption of honeycomb.

                [Fast forward a few weeks later.]

                Apparently Dory and young Becky who were going to Tikfijikoo discover the island is placed under quarantine.
                All clues indicate the vortex activities, cyclones, and mad spider experiments have put the international security at risk.

                Veranassessee is reporting the situation at the local headquarters of the Confregation (likely to be fired), while Mahiliki and the pilot are under scrutiny to check their stories…

                We find the three divas, Sharon, Gloria and Mavis with a little more hair, but not less slickness, in a military hospital on nearby Antarctica. Akita was brought there too, in solitary confinement because he pretends to be a WWII soldier and to be guided by a speaking dog (which is all real of course, but you never know). They soon plan to escape.

                Madame Chesterhope, who was unwillingly rescued on the submarine of captain Pavel is placed in some sort of detention.
                Meanwhile, Claude has visibly gotten back to Jarvis who had managed to get the crystal skull amidst the island’s confusion. They now both are on the submarine, toasting on the success of the operation of crystal skull’s retrieval.

                Balbina, an old lady living in the future timeline in Venezuela (same timeline as Anita and her parents) is moved to her son’s home, nearby old caves were she expects Anita and her parents may soon resurface.

                #1024
                AvatarJib
                Participant

                  Dory was digging in her garden. Today was hot and sunny, but she was an archeologist, she could handle it!
                  She had a dream last night about a little bird talking to her and telling her there was something precious buried in her garden… well it was something like that, she couldn’t really remember… maybe it was in another dream… did she watch a series last night? The boys were still sleeping soundly, so she’d ask later maybe.

                  The ground of the garden was tough! no wonder she never dug it before, or even did any gardening.
                  Crap! She was wondering where the treasure could be, her garden was big, and she had begun under a tree, but maybe it wasn’t there… it seemed to her the perfect location though… it was like an X showing the place. It had always seemed a bit crooked to her anyway. She could get rid of it shortly with a truck… She’ll ask the boys later for that… maybe near the portal stones?
                  She left here digging under the crooked tree and started removing the stones of what she used to call the portal.

                  #985

                  The door of the garage opened with a creaking sound, and Madame Chesterhope sped up into the gritty alley.
                  In that dimension where she had hidden her command base, people were a bit sloppy about roads and tarmac, so she had designed a little modification on her machines to be able to levitate in some of the less practical areas; but she had to admit,… she loved the vibrations and bumps that the motorbike created with the friction of the ground surface.
                  She started to giggle, all enthusiastic about the speed and the wind in her hair, that she ignored the road sign indicating that the road was flooded some miles ahead. The rain had been pouring cabbages all past hexades, so much so that her leather suit was in all honesty the best thing she could have worn, not to mention the fact of course, that it was making her totally sexy.
                  Two peasants were coming her way, looking at her with wild eyes like they had just seen something otherworldly. Ahahah she laughed, the fools would soon have forgotten everything about it (another handy and sly magical modification she nodded to herself). Looking in her rear mirror, she could still see them wiggle their hands in a frenzy… What the fl…!

                  :fleuron:

                  On the road, the two peasants wondered what in the name of Shaint Lejus was that rider… But worse, it was heading straight to the pool that the swollen river had made recently, outpouring on fields and little sniggly and thorny paths, like this one. Making desperate signs to be seen and warn it, they watched in horror the black podgy thing with flabby flapping schpurniatz arms sink straight to the bottom of the pool.

                  :fleuron:

                  The landing was a bit bumpy, but she found her balance quickly. Those transdimensional puddles were a bit rough to get accustomed to, but once you knew how to manipulate it, you couldn’t forget it.
                  Now, all she needed to got to the location she was heading to was to hop through a few more transdimensional puddles.
                  Actually, all sorts of puddles could do the job, water puddles, even oil puddles… or run-over poodle puddles for that matter. She preferred water ones, for the quality of water was very fluid, and allowed for easier defocusing. Lately she had tried transdimensional exhaust fumes clouddles, but that was a bit disorienting more than helping.
                  As far as she could tell, this first one had been projecting her to a dimension in between Earth and the Duane. Incorporating vibrational qualities of the two, with a little more rigidity though. The machine needed a little time to stabilize and get prepared for the next transdimensional jump.
                  As far as she could tell, she was in a place that was not unlike her birthplace, in the countryside of England. There were occasionally some giveaways that she still wasn’t quite there yet, like an erratic flying schpurniatz, but she was close now.
                  A few meters in front of her, she could see a lovely puddle that could do for the next jump. A bit small for her… well, motorbike, what were you thinking… but that would probably do it. She took another breath, then pushed the TDPP (Trans-Dimensional Puddle Propeller) button.

                  :fleuron:

                  Flof-flof-flof-flof…
                  Bugger, bugger…. What the bloody heck!

                  Straw was flying all over her hair, and obfuscating her vision… Darn last puddle had to much mud in it, and her concentration went off for a split second, heading her towards a field of barley.
                  Turning round and round for a moment in complete disorientation, she finally pushed the levitation button to take a little altitude.
                  Oh, now,… at least she could tell she was in England, because she knew that place.
                  How perfect! She could now just move into the dimension to the Pacific island. The GPS included in the modern expensive motorbike had been bipping as soon as it had found again the satellites, and it was now pointing the direction.
                  Giggling again, she pushed a new button and disappeared into the sky in a supersonic puff of smoke.

                  :fleuron:

                  a few days later, Chestershire, UK

                  AFP - 2008-07-21 - An new amazing design has been reported by eye-witnesses
                  on a crop of barley of a local farmer along with reports of strange booming sounds
                  and orbs of light. A sight to behold, the delicate intricacy of these interwoven
                  patterns is believed by many to be the work of the Crop-circle Makers, some
                  alien intelligence desiring to communicate with us. The theme of this crop-circle
                  is thought to be a variation on planet Venus cycles, and would be highlighting
                  the number of cycles lefts until the notorious end-date of Mayan calendar,
                  Dec. 21st 2012. Scientists have brushed off the allegations of elderly pranksters,
                  as this one seemed to have required levels of astronomical knowledge far beyond
                  human intelligence.
                  #957
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Primary Becky wandered through the reception rooms on the ground floor, stopping at a bookshelf and selecting a book at random.
                    Fountains of Paradise

                    #953
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Primary Becky woke up as the sun was sinking behind the coconut trees. The grounds of the Serendib Facility were striped with the long golden shadows of evening as Becky sat up in the wicker steamer chair, rubbing her eyes and mumbling the last few remembered words of a dream….. Luce is calling…which she promptly forgot.

                      Never one to keep a good thing to herself, Becky had a sudden impulse to call Tina in New Venice and tell her about Serendib. She loved the name Serendib: ‘serendipity.’ Becky had fallen in love with the magical island, and wanted to share it.

                      She had a feeling that Tina would like it here.

                      #934
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        New Venice, March 2034

                        After so many “haven’t been on my honeymoon yet!” ( ¹² ) , Becky was relieved to see that she had fast-forwarded time so nicely that, finally, in a few hours of time now, they would depart for Sri Lanka.

                        Of course, the last events with her wavering in different probabilities, and manifesting more of what she had tried —almost by reflex— to avoid were still on her mind. She had felt a bit sorry for Sean, but she knew all along that the choices were hers, and worrying unduly about others, even if that was about her dear spouse, wouldn’t be efficient at all, needless to say not even slightly helpful.
                        She had to concentrate more on the way she wanted to express herself. That way, she knew she would draw to her the perfectly appropriate situations —while the less than appealing stuff would recede in the background under a good dose of acceptance fairy dust.

                        Though still a bit weary of her unexpected pregnancy from a future traveler who hadn’t even had the tact to propose her to elope with him, her minds were fresh and excited as ever at the thought of hopping like a daft goat on the Lion’s Rock in Sigiriya. And her good mood seemed to have an infectious effect on Sean who hadn’t even inquired of what local liquor there would be on the island. Perhaps the aura of the spiritual region had already blessed Sean with some renewed optimism.

                        As she was fondly stuffing her skimpy honeymoon outfit in the already ready to burst piece of luggage, she smiled blissfully, remembering all of a sudden how she had forgotten to be gentle with herself these past few days, and how nice it was to treat herself with shiny and twinkling shards of spicy new adventures.
                        She could indeed feel the excitement of doing some psychic archeology (as her step-mother used to call that) on these spots full of collective energies that she hadn’t had the taste of in many months.

                        #929

                        ~ It’s dark here ~

                        Focus on our voices, continue to follow the flow…
                        Focus…
                        I think I can hear something…
                        Yes…
                        It’s like rain…

                        Yes, just like the rain a dreamy voice answered the little girl

                        #905

                        — If you have an idea, then tell it quick, said Akita, this place gives me the creeps.
                        — Remember how Kay’s having this nice werewolf form in his shape-shifting bag of tricks?
                        — Yes, but he cannot really hold it for very long… Wouldn’t be easier if you just teleport us or something?
                        — Well, the thing is, yes, that would work for us, but that would take too long to teach you, not to say the parents. We can’t really count on their cooperation for now… and it’s perhaps better that way, because I’m not sure they would really believe they can do it anyway.
                        — So the real question is, Kay interrupted, how do we move quickly with two stoned weights?
                        — Exactly. My suggestion is that we combine our energies. I must say I’m quite fond of the werewolf outfit, it’s brawny and forces respect, and besides, you and Akita know how to operate it.
                        — I think I get your point. So how do we do?
                        — Just let Kay merge with you, and I’ll facilitate the anchoring, said Araili.

                        Kay started to swirl around Akita in a swoosh of air, while Araili faded into the background to become a force-field around them, getting tighter and tighter, until all three were a ball of light and poofed back in the form of a twelve-feet tall impressive werelynx.

                        GRRRREAT, growled Akayli the beast. Let’s move on.

                        Baring his claws, he delicately tore off the mummifying silky threads to unwrap the two parents, and taking each of them under the hairy soft grey arms, sprung out of the nest to the forest in quick bounces.

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