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  • "Nice BMW," said Yasmin. She pointed towards a shiny black car parked in front of the supermarket. "My Uncle has that model." "Pretty flash," agreed Sergio. He sniffed and scratched his nose vigorously. Yasmin was amused to notice Zara frown, ever-so-slightly.  Sergio squinted towards the BMW. "Looks like it's a rental too. Beats this bloody Toyota any ... · ID #6558 (continued)
    (next in 04h 29min…)

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  • #4818

    “Don’t you want to stay a little longer here?” Vincentius said to Arona after his bath in the hot springs of the Doline. Arona’s attention was caught by the dripping drops of water on the chiseled muscles, and took a while to answer.

    She stretched lazily on the deck chair, slightly disturbing Mandrake who was napping by her side. He rolled on his side and resumed his nap.

    “I don’t know, the place is nice enough. To speak true, it lacks a bit in decor and natural light; still… you wouldn’t find a nicer place to rest. Look at this white sandy beach… And to think that this pool connects to virtually anywhere, anywhen. Endless opportunities of explorations and travels are drawing you towards an adventure, don’t you think.”

    “I think I only live to please you, just say the word, and I’ll follow you anywhere.”

    “Aw, you’ve always been good at sweet-talking me. Don’t get me wrong, I like our occasional flings… for lack of a better word, but I like my independence. I have to keep exploring myself.”

    Seeing a sadness fleeting in his eyes, she added “if only to meet you again and again.”

    #4817
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      “It was a long and boring flight.” Shawn Paul yawned, happy to finally stretch his legs on the tarmac.
      Maeve rolled her eyes “I don’t know what you are complaining about, at least you managed to sleep throughout the whole thing, even the last bit on that horrid 6-seater plane. I honestly wonder how you managed…”

      Shawn-Paul grinned apologetically, “I think the baby bottles of nhum did the trick.”

      “I saw you glamouring the air attendant, didn’t know she’d bring you the whole inventory. Poor lass’ might have been a bit desperate for attention.”

      A man was at the main door with their names on a sign.

      Shawn-Paul sighed “how can they get it wrong everysingletime…”
      “Look at the bright side, you can still make it out… Shoon Pleul.” Maeve retorted with a bossy glimmer in her eye. “Come now…”

      “Hello Sir, happy to meet you, my name is Shaw…”
      “Don’t bother, SP, don’t you see he’s the driver, he probably can’t understand a word you just said.”
      “Yeah nah, t’is true M’am,” the driver replied. “Your mate’s Canadian accent is atrocious. Haere Mai to Tikfijikoo, right this way please.”

      #4816
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “Josette, you got to do something about that crippling continuity anxiety of yours.
        Since when do storytellers have to explain themselves. Be creative, and let the creative flow wash away all doubts.
        “You can’t be dry already after the exhausting eight words of foreshadowing suspense you just wrought, or shall we rename this a Course in Floundering Beginnings? So, take a deep breath and try again: “once upon a time…” what already?”

        #4813
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          “That’s hardly a ‘bun’,” said a voice. “It’s barely a crumb.”

          Bun being a euphemism for comment.

          #4811

          A red leaf fell on the nose of the biggest gargoyle and Fox stopped his rehearsal. It had been exhausting and he didn’t remember why on earth he was doing that. He also didn’t remember how long he had been speaking in front of the Gargoyles, maybe he drank the wrong potion in the morning. Glynis had given him a potion especially made for him to calm his anxiety and help him solve a few energy blockages from childhood, or in his case, cubhood.

          One of the baby snoots giggled behind the back of the shrieking gargoyle.
          “You don’t mess with me, little…” He found himself lacking the creativity to find any insult the could understand. It was no use cursing the little rainbow creatures, they didn’t seem to care. Fox suspected it was not because of a lack of intelligence but simply because they didn’t view life, or anything, as a problem. He took note that he should get some inspiration from that.

          “What were you doing, uncle Fox?” asked Olliver.
          Fox opened his eyes wide. The boy seemed taller everyday and Fox had to look up to actually meet his eyes.
          “Will you never stop to grow?” he asked with a little resentment.
          “Well…” the boy started with his breaking voice.
          “Where were you,” asked Fox. “I thought you had left with Rukshan.” In a way Fox was relieved that it was not the case and it soothed a little the pain caused by the sudden departure of the Fae.

          “Oh! Teleporting here and there,” said the boy, considering adding some semi-truth about going to school.
          An idea sprouted in Fox’s mind. It was too tiny for him to know what it was but his unconscious mind was already working about a plan to catch up with Rukshan, connecting the bits and pieces left by the Fae in his tales to the children and his innocuous comments.
          “What do you think about… having some dinner,” he said not yet able to formulate in his imagination that he could even go on an adventure with Olliver.

          #4809

          The downward climb had taken what felt like days. The more he went, the darkest it was even the stars at his feet were now swallowed in obliviating darkness.

          Rukshan felt like abandoning at times, but pressed on and continued, down and down as he rose above clouds.

          The ancient energies that had shaped this topsy-turvy passage spiraling around the fence of the heartwoods wouldn’t have done something of that magnitude and let it unfinished. It was calling for an exploration, while at the same time protecting itself from mere wanderers, the kind with lack of imagination or endurance.
          His mind reminded him of old tales that spoke of sacrificing to the trees for knowledge and passage, but it was surely meant as a metaphor. Hanging upside down for hours was probably in itself a form of sacrifice.

          He reached to his pouch for a drink of sour milk, when he suddenly realized that the gravity had turned, and the pouch was no longer floating above his head. With the darkness and the lack of landmarks, he’d failed to notice when this happened.

          It surely meant he’d crossed an invisible barrier, and was now journeying inside another plan, deeper down. Ground couldn’t be far now. He took a pearl off one of his braids, and threw it. Then he looked at the darkness beneath his feet with intent to discern the faintest sounds. Quickly enough, the pearl gave back a ricocheting sound, clean and echoing slightly against what seemed to be moist stones. Indeed ground was there, where once the sky was.

          Maybe the final test was a leap of faith. Or maybe it was just to patiently complete the climb. A few more steps, and he would be there. A few more steps.

          #4808

          “Slurge been detected Sir,” Madam Li said ominously to Ed.
          “You probably mean a Surge, yes?”
          “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I means, a Slurge. And you no mock my English, I’m no native, xielinlin de e gui!”

          Ed knew better than to argue with Madam Li when she was in a Native swearing mood.

          “What has transpired so far?”
          “Interruption of energy flow, narrows it down to bleeding-through character la.”
          “Sure. Let it unfold for now, there may be no need for intervention, those spurs tend to die out on their own. Keep monitoring.”

          #4807
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            I am Trebuchet and they don’t fool me with their filo socks sickle twaddle. I heard a tale on one of my trips (trips is my thing, trips and tales, not to be confused with tripping over a tail, or stripping a trail), a tale with a moral, that is to say the tale included a mention of shooting the messenger, loosely translated as slapping the host. The lack of finesse and discernment is astounding in these parts, these parts being, for want of a better expression, my home base.

            #4806

            “Speaking of philosophical …” said Godfrey

            “Were we? Were we REALLY speaking of philosophical? Or were we talking about that … that … DERELINQUANT, Finnley. And SHE is anything BUT philosophical!”

            “I was speaking of philosophical … it reminded me of something I read recently … about the great philoosopher, Lemone, who as we know is the epitome of philosophicalness. The gold standard, if you will. It seems he has had a change of heart recently.”

            Liz wiped beads of nervous sweat off her forehead and sat down. “Do tell,” she said. “Perhaps he will soothe my troubled and long suffering soul.”

            “He has derogated his previous sayings as rubbish and issued a public apology. ‘Sorry about the nonsense comments,’ he is reputed to have said.”

            “Beautiful,” said Liz shaking her head in wonderment. “So succinct and humble. The man is a genius.”

            #4805

            Olliver was surprised when he teleported back to the cottage to see everyone busy with their own affairs.

            Fox was practicing a speech in front of the gargoyles statues rearranged in the garden like pupils in a class. He looked so serious that Olliver swallowed his guffaw. He wanted to update him about his scouting around, for the entrance that Rukshan had spoken about, and Fox had seemed interested at the time to join the exploration. His keen sense and shape-shifting abilities were always handy to have in a team.

            The kids were at school, and he found out that Glynnis was teaching birds in the wood thicket.

            “So much schooling going around” he whispered, almost afraid to be caught skipping classes.

            “You can still join me, if you’d like,” Eleri said, having jumped out of nowhere. Her black dress was an interesting piece of improvisation. “I’m going to a funeral, but it should be fun, the deceased has promised he would haunt Leroway and his thugs.”

            #4804
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              “What if she’s bluffing and it’s a ploy to bargain for a raise…” Godfrey said to Elizabeth keeping his voice down “or even more devious, to get you to write in spite…” he added, slightly concerned about Liz reaction.

              “Say it bloody loud Godfrey! She wants to sexy up all my stuff, that derelinquant! Caught her doing so waaaay before, she’s never stopped trying. I’m sure her bloody novels are all sentimental romantic rubbish.”

              Godfrey looked surprised “Funny you say that. She never really struck me as the sentimental type. Are you sure it’s not all jealousy or holding grudge for her disparate appreciation of your taste in art. That rope-snake is very… philosophical.”

              #4803
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                “Can you keep the manic cackling down, you guys,” said Finnley strolling nonchalently through the living room. “I’m on the phone.”

                She waved her phone at them to prove it. “A bit of a dust trap,” she mouthed at Liz and pointed to her prized rope reptile on the dresser.

                “Sorry about that, old chap. Yes, so what were you saying about the book deal? Oh really? What a hoot!”

                “What a hoot?” Godfrey whispered.

                “This is a travesty of justice … or something,” said Liz. “Stop hooting and talking nonsense, Godfrey. And speak up! Shout! I insist you shout your HOOTS!”

                Finnley rolled her eyes. “Got to go, old chap. There’s crazy shit going on around here. I’ll see you at the awards!”

                #4802
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  “Josette, why don’t you tell us about your travels in ancient Rome with the Etruscans, or whatever fine story. It would help pass time in that eternity.”

                  #4801

                  “Hyvää päivää hyvät naiset.”

                  “Bwawhahahaa” the three ladies rolled in fits of hysterical laughter.

                  “God dag damer?”

                  “OOooooh, AAAhhahaha.”

                  “I should have guessed they weren’t models enough to be Finns or Swedes.” muttered Barbara under her chin hair, readjusting her beehive ‘do. She almost regretted all the time spent learning the languages through the Fuertolingo app.

                  “Come right this way ladies, there are some measurements to be done, and extension works needed on the machines. I’m afraid the cryogenic caisson wasn’t sized for… your accomplishments.”

                  “Isn’t she a peach, bwahaha, wot nonsense! Let’s follow that moppet, your augustancies! Ooohuhuhu!” Sharon hooted all wobbly.

                  #4800

                  Ed Steam had called for a strategic team meeting this morning.
                  He looked at his pocket watch. It was only a queerter to thriety, which meant they were all late, as usual. True that time was notoriously difficult to read in these alternate dimensions, but this particular dimension had been fairly stable since Bea was taking her homeopathic pills, keeping her sneezing fits under control, and all their identities rather clear.

                  The next mission required a two pronged approach, with one part of the action on the Pacific Island where another doll was to be revealed, and the other at the Doctor’s lair.

                  The Australian tunnels were still under observation, in case the murlocks that were crawling there would be awoken by the blunderous adventurers that had gone investigating.

                  Frooteen past thriety. They wouldn’t come now. He probably shouldn’t have left the organization of the meeting to Aqua Luna.

                  He looked at the next item on his agenda. “Interdimensional call to Miss Bossy.”

                  True, he had to get her update on her investigation into the Doctor’s history. That would surely reveal clues as to his current whereabouts.

                  #4799
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    “Snap out of it!”

                    Liz was gobsmacked, literally. “Did you just slap me, Godfrey? How unexpected!”

                    “You were delirious for a moment, I guess the shock of it all. Myself, I haven’t quite processed the news.”

                    “What do you mean? Tsk, about all that sag-shaming, and childish trifles?”

                    “No, Liz. You know… That Finnley just announced she was secretly a writer, and doing her own saga, with almost a finished manuscript and a deal for three oth….”

                    “Stop it! STOP IT! That little ingrate! All that time spent shadowing, learning from my brilliance. AAaar! AAAAAARRRR! I knew she was up to something pretending to spend so much time dusting, and so little got done around this house!”

                    “The silver lining…”

                    “What?”

                    “Is that she’s back?” Godfrey ventured timidly.

                    Liz suddenly cooled down. “It’s true I’ve had enough of the French pastries. Those maids were mostly good for entertaining value, but spent way too much time fooling around Roberto. At least Finnley isn’t turning any eyes. If you see what I mean,” she ended in a manic cackle.

                    #4798

                    “Wot you ‘oping for then, Sha?” whispered Mavis. “I mean, wot you bloody ‘oping for from the Doc?”

                    “Wot’s that, Mavis? Can’t bloody ‘ear you if you don’t speak up a bit,” said Sha.

                    “Keep your bloody voice down, Sha!” said Gloria.

                    “I said, wot you ‘oping for? Out of this beauty treatment?” repeated Mavis in a loud hiss.

                    “Oh, that’s a bloody good question, Mavis. You always were a thinker. I’m not thinking to look twenty again, or anythink like that. It’d be nice but I’m realistic, me. I dunno really … Thirty maybe? Wot you ‘oping for Gloria?”

                    “I’m thinking we should ‘ave bloody thought this through before! And now, ‘ere we are, sat ‘ere in his bloody waiting room. It’s too bloody late to wonder wot we’re doing ‘ere now! If we go back, that bloody Nurse Trassie will skin us for garters!”

                    “Blimey, Glor, wot’s got you in a ‘uff?”

                    “I’m sorry, Luv. I didn’t mean to ‘ave a go. I’m scared is wot it is. I read summink in the fine print just now, about the Doc, wot’s worried me,” said Glor.

                    “Oh, bloody ‘ell! I didn’t bother to look at them bleedin papers they gave us to sign. Couldn’t even read it, the writing was that bloody small. Wot’d it say then, Glor?” said Mavis.

                    Before Gloria could answer, Barbara walked briskly into the waiting room.

                    #4796
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      “Get that maid and her tarts out of here,” said Finnley. She flung her suitcase at the ground. “And I don’t care what she calls them; do you know how many calories there are in one of those things?”
                      “I could look it up?” suggested Godfrey, delicately wiping a blob of cream from his moustache.
                      “Finnley, you can’t just come and go as you please and then start throwing luggage around,” said Liz.
                      It was then that Finnley struck her winning blow.
                      “You both look so well,” she said with a smile sweeter than the chocolate eclair. “Have you put on a bit of weight perhaps, Madame? Around the middle?”

                      #4795
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        The woman turned round to glare at the man with the demented grin sitting behind her. “I think this is yours,” she said, plucking a cashew from her hair and handing it to him through the gap between the seats. “I hope,” she added pointedly, “That the remainder of the flight will be less of a challenge for you.”

                        #4792

                        The Doctor was at times confused about his own plan. Well, most of the time if felt clear and perfectly diabolical, and he could easily understand why at times lesser minds could get confused about the twists and turns —and to those lesser minds, it would usually suffice to say “don’t worry, it’s all part of the Plan.” It was difficult to properly phrase the sentence so that the Plan doesn’t get too easily confused with any plan. But he was expert in conveying that it wasn’t a mere plan.

                        After having tried and used old or elaborate devices beyond known technology like alleged alien crystal skulls to outcomes of various satisfaction in the past, he’d realized that those so called AI technologies were a silent gangrene for the mind. By becoming more tech-savvy, people lost their savoir and their savour by relying too much on external support. People were becoming malleable, predictable, and replaceable.

                        His bloody assistant was a sad testament to the downward evolution humanity was rushing towards. It was a strange and sad irony, that by enhancing their ineptitude, he was actually working to the perfection of the human race.

                        “Ah yes! Evolution!” That was his legacy, and he was of course profoundly misunderstood.

                        This whole sad business with the chase after the dolls and the keys and the remote control of magpies, and the psychic blasts, beauty treatments and Barbara enhancements, all that made sense once you showed it in the proper light. These were the catalyst to the real and interesting events. The ones which mattered.

                        It all started after the Army got him out of his prison rot in exchange for his work on some special science experiments. Top-secret, evidently. His handler, a certain nobody by the name of Fergus, was assigning him the experiments.
                        While he was dutifully working on his assigned projects, he quickly realized that he was given vast funding which would have taken him more time to gather on his own, so he did his part, all while experimenting and honing his skills. Clearly, the Army lacked any vision beyond the confines of “find a better way to torture, maim or kill mass amount of individuals.” Primates. Luckily, their experiments with remote control, brainwashing, and body modelage were less gory than the average science experiments, and far more into his own area of expertise.

                        It took him 5 years to escape. This plan (a smaller plan, part of the Plan which had not yet fully hatched at the time) — this plan for an escape started to form when Fergus let slip important bits of information, which seemed insignificant taken in isolation, but meant a whole new area of discoveries when put together by a brilliant mind like his own.
                        Fergus started to gloat about securing some secrets as a blackmail or fail-safe policy in case the Army’s “hired help” misbehaved. This part was known for a long time, it was what was called our ‘retirement plan’ in the contract we signed. What was more peculiar was when he started to let details slip about the method. All thanks to little doses of hypnotic potion in spiked shared drinks, courtesy of the Doctor. It seemed clear that this elaborate scheming of keys and dolls was child’s play and nothing particularly genius, however what was more interesting was when Fergus started to realize that the dolls his niece had made somehow matched certain persons of interest without her conscious knowing. There was a deeper mystery to be cracked, and even Fergus wondered if the Army had not tempered with his family genetics to induce certain characteristics or something of the like. Well, all ramblings of a simpleton you would say, but maybe it wasn’t.
                        After all these searches to externalize certain abilities of the mind, the Doctor was starting to get fascinated by people exhibiting these qualities naturally.

                        The appearance of this strange red crystal seems to confirm these doubts. There are untapped forces at play, and maybe doors that could be opened.

                        Barbara suddenly irrupted into the room “Our guests are coming, just received a text!”

                        The Doctor sighed thinking some doors should remain closed.

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                      Daily Random Quote

                      • "Nice BMW," said Yasmin. She pointed towards a shiny black car parked in front of the supermarket. "My Uncle has that model." "Pretty flash," agreed Sergio. He sniffed and scratched his nose vigorously. Yasmin was amused to notice Zara frown, ever-so-slightly.  Sergio squinted towards the BMW. "Looks like it's a rental too. Beats this bloody Toyota any ... · ID #6558 (continued)
                        (next in 04h 29min…)

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