Search Results for 'laugh'

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  • #962
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      I’m worried about Al, Tina, said Becky. He’s really acting strange lately, have you noticed?

      Noticed! Of course I’ve bloody noticed! exclaimed Tina.

      Aw, Tina! Becky gave Tina a warm hug.

      I don’t think he’s getting enough sleep, Becky, Tina continued. Like for example, you know what you were writing in the Reality Play about Becky and the clones? Well, he thinks it’s real! He thinks the babies are clones. He even thinks YOU’RE a clone, Becky!

      Oh surely not, Tina! Ahahahah! Becky couldn’t help laughing.

      It’s no laughing matter, Backy, said Tina reproachfully, but Becky’s laughter was infectious and Tina started to smile. Oh stop making me laugh! I’m worried!

      A gurgling sound erupted from one of the baby Moses baskets. Those babies have such a sense of humour for such tiny things! said Tina, smiling down at the sunny smiling little faces.

      Haha yes, when they’re not screaming with rage, laughed Becky.

      Tina frowned. I wonder what Al sees when he looks at them?

      What do you mean, Tina?

      Well, didn’t you read Al’s last entry in the Play? Don’t ask me for a link, Becks, look it up yourself!

      Becky rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. You mean about them being emotionless?

      He’s reconfiguring their energy to fit his delusions, Becky. He’s becoming so immersed in the Play that he’s believing it’s real . It’s all a bit worrying, because he’ll be going on about dragons and mermaids in the apartment next, or talking chairs or something. I don’t know how to handle it.

      Hey, I have an idea! Becky said. How about that doctor Muir?

      #949
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        They don’t do much though Sam, do they? said Tina, looking quizzically at the sleeping infants and just managing to repress the urge to prod one of them in order to wake it.

        Sam did not appear to be overly bothered. He was making strange cooing noises and waving a toy Lemur in the air in front of the cribs.

        He glared at Tina. Shush Tina! Do you have no maternal instincts at all? Sleeping or not, they take everything in. Do you know that baby crocodiles talk to each other even from inside the egg? He shook his head in exasperation.

        Don’t mind that mean old Tinipooh, he said gently to the babies. Uncle Sam will play you some nice soothing didgereedoo.

        Tina laughed, kissed Sam affectionately, and made a hasty exit. Not that she didn’t enjoy the didgereedoo, of course.

        #2026

        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          REELING IN THE green BEAM OF LOVE
          various ASPECTS OF tracy WENT within
          perhaps ONE OF THEM KNOWN AS glorIA
          WOULD BASK IN THE hand OF flove TOO
          SEEING WITH HER OWN eyes
          THAT WHICH WILL BE replied
          NEEDS NOT BE googled
          IN stone sleep probable SELF laughed
          LIKE A baby LOOKING AT veranassessee
          AND vincentius HAVING spiderS track
          THE TIMETRAVELING bunny…

          #919

          It only took a few seconds for Armelle to deflate though she donned off with a hint of reluctance the delightfully filling feeling of power she had acquired notwithstanding the slight overweight (a few grams at best, given her immaterial nature of pristine white hallowy owly essence, but you could not reasonably expect to be really ascended with even no more than a few grams of physicality left, could you?)…

          So, it only took a few seconds, which in essence’s inner time was tantamount to a mere eon (a merry myriad of seconds).

          But then, all was so clear.
          She was seeing the trail that was left unwatched by the spiders, and that her friends would take to the wort-hole.

          Claude, my dear, would you be so kind as to oblige me for a few minutes? she regally asked her host of the branches, taking great care not to be too self-conscious, which would irremediably make her roll her eyes and lose all composure.
          Well… err… I s’pose yes…
          Indeed. Then, take good care of the wort-hole, and wait for us to come back, and then lead us back to the place from whence you came.
          Wouldn’t do that, if I were you… It’s full of magpies there…
          Oh bugger now. Armelle sighed so profusely that it made the hair raise on Claude’s head. The Snoot told me the way would be clear, so… have a little faith in me she said in a cocker’s voice.

          And there, in a majestic elan, she went back to the spot where her friends were now gently getting together.

          :fleuron:

          When she arrived, Akayli the were-lynx had just been deposing his precious package of the two silk-wrapped parents at the feet of little Anita. The first minutes of doubt passed, her hesitant face started to show a smile, knowing that her parents would be fine.

          Yuki was for himself all very impressed by the transformergence of his friends, and was finding that a very good idea to get more focused.
          However, he could hear the yet unvoiced protests of Armelle at his yet unphrased suggestion of a mergence
          Now way I get my white feathers mixed in that bloody smelly goat’s fur!
          And of course, he could hear too the yet unvoiced slew of outraged protests
          Smelly goat? Who you bloddy call a smelly goat, you persnickity saucer-eyed shuttlecock?

          Yet… Yuki, gazing for a few seconds of essence in the stream of possibilities, weighted again the enticing result that a mergence of the three of them would produce…
          Which would be… a… grabbiffon.
          A magnificent winged horned cotton-tailed… sort of… gryffun… or grumpfoon.
          Well… perhaps Armelle was right in the not-yet-voiced first place.

          That would just be plain ridiculous.

          So… what are we waiting for?! Let’s do it now!! all three of them laughed in unison :D =)) :creating_magic: :buffoon:

          #916
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Steady on, Becky! said Tina, alarmed. You nearly had that rocking chair right over!

            Becky steadied the chair and started to laugh. ‘Off my rocker’ sync, she chortled to Tina. Ahahaha, too funny!

            Tina raised an eyebrow at her freind, who was beginning to have a mad gleam in her eye, and was starting to appear a trifle hysterical.

            Steady on, Becky pooh! Tina repeated, but it was no use. Becky had seen the funny side and tears of mirth (or was it madness?) rolled down her cheeks.

            Becky, why don’t you leave that comment in the Reality Play you’re trying to do, for heavens sake, and get a grip first. You know it won’t make sense, and you won’t delete it, either, will you? Tina was firm. BECKY! Just hit send NOW!

            #913
            Jib
            Participant

              The afternoon was hot, a bit moist and sticky too. Yurick and Yann were enjoying the freshness of Dory’s patio.
              Cold lemon drink in cocktail glasses, the radio playing some sun related song.
              Dan was out playing golf with friends and would be here for dinner.
              Dory, dozing on her rocking chair had told Yurick and Yann that they could use their computers, they had 2 of them, so Yurick could take Dory’s and Yann could take Dan’s. Yurick was busy checking his mails and answering all those who had submitted some article for the next issue of their e-zine, and Yann wanted some distraction. He was just looking at some pictures on Gurgle, some movies on Yootune. Some of them were cracking him up, and he had difficulties keeping his :-| face serious.
              At the same time he was browsing through Dan’s pictures folders. Some of them were really amazing. Pictures of Dory on the field, with her pith helmet and her brushes, her shovels or even her pick. She was very funny looking when she was finding something seemingly out of nowhere, having dug all day long with no result and then finally some treasure! Often, Yann thought, it was only some fragment of a vase or some broken tool, but she always had this awe-inspired gaze ;))

              What is the name of this singer again?, asked Yurick.
              You ask me?

              The grin on Yurick’s face was all that Yann was waiting for. Yann had no memory of names of singers or actors. Their face, once he had seen it were recorded in his mind, but their name was like a summer breeze, refreshing, but soon forgotten. He knew that Yurick was more asking that to himself.

              Dunno me luv. You can ask the mummy in the living room if you want…
              Hahaha, graowl

              Hehehe. Funny that, thought Yann. Coming back to the computer screen, his eyes fall on a strange folder name.
              Patate? What’s that!?
              Double-click.
              Just a few files. Videos mainly. The names weren’t very evocative…
              Yann picked one and waited for the movie to begin.
              It was kind of black and white movie… the grain was gross and old fashioned. There was no audio.
              Yann had an old memory of a similar movie seen on the comodor computer of his cousin’s parents… his cousin had told him about some weird movie he had found in a floppy disk of his father…
              So, there was a man, maybe in his 60’s, he was wearing a gray bathing suit and was a bit hairy. Drinking some kind of grey cocktail.
              A girl came in… with an amazing leopard baby-doll!!! from what Yann could see, she was blond and fleshy. Oh! and she had some friends. All of them with a leo-part on them :-?

              Ahem! Yurick? Wanna see what I found?
              Hmmm
              I’m sure you’ll find some interest :)) hahaha! Oh my Flove! She’s really doing it!?
              =))

              Seeing his friend hilarious picked the curiosity of Yurick and he eventually came to see. The look on his face when he saw what was happening was too much for Yann who burst into laughter. That was enough to wake Dory who almost fell off her rocked chair.

              What is that? Where did you find that… thing? Dory looked offended, but soon she was blushing.
              Oh! no… don’t look at that. It was a youthful mistake…

              #2025

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                elikozoe began magpies :yahoo_shame_on_you:
                seems laughing key :yahoo_laughing:
                finding love happy gabriele :yahoo_worried:
                bloody franiel creating dreams magic :creating_magic:

                #900

                START! said Tina.

                Becky and Tina were doing a meditation together, and Becky decided to just write whatever popped into her head. She could always delete it afterwards, or edit it, she reasoned.

                “Bagpush got out of the washtub”, Becky scribbled, “ And scooted down along the river line to the marks butty big one by the farm. Heavens above, fishly, what’s that brown thing on the water butt? Gawbsmacker said, don’t be talking like that, shekeltons in a hide to ho where and its first light, fair bright and hey ho the wash go. Abbon Ipswich, slaty flats of corncake, hey dee on the wash bucket, spittin in the hole hey down dooly. Margaret Apsworth laying on the white cotton cake spread, fair dooly down the one hooly. Ay and its a hey ho fair fooly down by the wash pooly, drum rolling in the har fool haley, down by the dash darnly. I said, hey ho the brown tooly, hoggin all the raw tooly, stewing in the far fooly for eight pence an hour. Said Mavis of the green sportwear, theres may flowers in the far horse hair, weel butter in the spar for tucker and muck down in the cow butter, said bree in the bird barny, a flying for the far fooly, well its knees up and out your dooly for the green hay beer fair. Its a fine night for a hooly in the row bottom in the far fooly, said mavis of the tom fooly, in the wash bucket down stairs. Once more, sell a nickel farthing, in the morning and in the darning, and say way more is in the star sign than a wash bucket down stairs.”

                Good greif, exclaimed Becky, What was all that about?

                What a load of twaddle, Becky, said Tina with a laugh.

                Well you know what? It was kind of fun and refreshing to just write nonsense
                I am sick of things MEANING something, Becky said, and then, warming to her subject:

                Lets have some good old fashioned MEANINGLESSNESS!

                #898

                She was feeling blank. It was as if she had no memories of what had happened before. At least she had still the notion that she was a she… wasn’t she? It wasn’t really clear, as she had mixed up feelings. There weren’t any physical sensation in the place she was. Indeed, she was having difficulties finding herself. She began to wonder what was this feeling of her she was aware of. To what was it connected? And thus, she realized she was too focused on the question itself to get any answer.
                The letting go released a dam of sensations and informations. She was overwhelmed by all that she was and all that seemed to be thrust upon her senses. But the resistance was what could create pain, she knew that from another time where she was living the same thing. Resisting the communication was like wanting to resist a herd of fleeing raghlors.
                She was feeling a presence in all this mess, something familiar :-?
                Was that herself looking at herself looking at herself looking at herself looking…
                Her memory of what she was trying to do came as lightning. The sudden realization of her numerous tentatives at this exercise made her cry… would she fail again?
                She had to find these other aspects of her, put them into a common direction… but there were so many of hers! which ones should she call to follow her? Which ones would follow her, if any? She felt sudden despair coming from everywhen. Despairs that she was aware did not belong to her, but they were powerful, almost annihilating her will. Images of massacres of people she knew, of people that her other selves knew, massacre that she had perpetrated herself or that she was perpetrating… any sensation of time could fit.

                :yahoo_at_wits_end: :yahoo_doh: :yahoo_crying: :yahoo_cow: :yahoo_whew: :yahoo_skull:

                Despair was imprisoning her and she knew she already had failed because of that. It was shadowing her motivation, giving her that hollow sense of herself, shielding her from…

                :creating_magic:

                Asiir, is that you? The energy was familiar and the name was a translation in her mind. It was an anchor point in all these mess of hers.
                Asiir, help me!

                The feeling was faint, so far away. But as she was focusing more on it, she noticed her different selves were intrigued and gathering around it. And there they were together. A feeling of ecstasy filled her up… and out of her body herself was huge. The presence was gaining in intensity and it was as if it was her who was allowing Asiir’s energy to be expressed toward herself.

                HAHAHAHAHA a thunderous laugh.
                Startled for a moment she almost lost contact with Asiir. But their bond was stronger this time. She was filled with joy and self-assurance.

                At last, you are beginning to understand, Lola. We can go on and take the next step now.

                She was truly riding her dragon, :face-grin: , it was wondrous.

                Well, technically you are lying on the floor of the marshes of doooom, but…

                All of a sudden, everything was gone, she was back to her body, Asiir looking at her and nudging her left arm with her snout.
                WOW, what a crippled body! How many times did she tried? Would he kill her with that, bloody bastard… a feeling of anger was infuriating her, and filling her body up, heating it up. How could he possibly be so inhuman?

                May I recall you I’m a dead guy? and furthermore, my focus wasn’t human… I just appear human to your eyes because you want me to appear like that. You have no representation of how my species could look like, but I may show you…
                … soon.

                #895

                The woman’s voice raised softly in the dark, like a velvet caress, or the sound of a purring cat.

                Life was long before I met Georges. Not unbearable, but so long and lifeless. Days would pass, and nothing new would happen but the same matter the previous days were made of.
                Though I no longer align to these limitations, I was once human, born to Earth, as Georges was, in a not so distant past. Like most of my people, I was not feeling special. But my will was strong and my desire to survive too. I survived poverty, lust and violence. In the crucible of these emotions I’ve melted my fears, and it was there I found Georges too.

                A curtain raises in the dark. A palace in an exotic tropical place. Brunei? Al doesn’t know this place…
                A young dark haired woman in a small room, around sixteen, perhaps a bit less, disheveled. She looks wildly around her, her rags stained with dust and dirt.

                Enters a tall woman. She doesn’t seem local. British perhaps. She’s elegantly dressed, thin mouth, high cheekbones, apparently in charge. A maid follows her. She can speak the girl’s language.

                Where is my mother? Let me out of here! she starts to cry
                I’m afraid this is not possible, Salome. For your safety,…
                What do you care about my safety!
                For your safety, Salome, hear me, try to behave. The Sultan is not a man without a heart. He loves beautiful women, and that is what probably saved your neck, considering what all what your mother did wrong to him refusing to pay taxes and her obstinate and bare-faced smuggling. Listen Salome, this might save you, and might save your mother as well.

                The curtain falls on the scene, where Salome hopes to have found a friend of captivity with this woman.

                A few years later, still in the golden cage of the harem, occasionally asked to service the lustful and violent Sultan, I start to go explore the depths of my misery. My inner world was a safe sanctuary, a haven from the pit of hell where I was now living, after my childhood years of hard work in the forest. There, where no one was given the key to enter, I became aware of him. I first thought he was an imaginary friend, a messenger from the other world, greeting me to a sure death. But he was real. He started to talk to me. About what I could do, like him, be a Traveler, if I wanted to.

                The curtain raises again. Young Salome is lying on her straw mat, in a seeming delirium. She moans, whispers, weeps, laughs. No one in the harem seem to care any longer. She is probably possessed, but the Sultan still find her suitable, she can’t be touched.

                A roar can be heard in the palace. The big black-bearded Sultan Ojylam the Second, ogre look on his face, summons his guard.

                — Don’t worry Salome, the voice of Georges whispers in the dark. The Sultan is mad at Madame Chesterhope. She has just fled with his precious crystal skull, but he won’t find her. She’s a skilled Traveler too, as soon you will be dear Salome, once you have learnt my last tricks, and we soon will be united.
                — Why that stupid crystal skull?
                — Don’t worry about it… This one is the Birds Skull. It carries lots of information and magic in relation to the Birds Realm, but it should be the least of your concerns. We’ll find Madame Chesterhope even if she’s clever at hiding between dimensions. Only concern for you must be to get out of here.
                — The Sultan will know I told her about it… I should have known, he was so proud of this object, and so protective too… And she was so curious…
                — That’s why we must hurry now.

                And so we were united for the first time. Lots of other lives have occurred afterwards, different paths at times, but always we have found each other again. Eternally bound, in a most sacred bound…

                #888

                Franiel lifted the metal latch and pushed open the creaking door of the old shed. In the darkness he could make out of the shape of boxes and other various objects, then, as his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, he saw the motorbike propped up against the far wall.

                What are you up to young man?

                Franiel jumped and spun around. It was Lydia, just returned from her journey to the market.

                Oh hello again! You startled me … Phoebe suggested I check out the motorbike, see if I can get it going.

                Lydia looked grave. Did she now? Well it’s been many a long year since that piece of junk worked. Anyway so you’ve met Madame Chesterhope then, and what did you make of her? She was giving Franiel that deeply penetrating stare again. Franiel wondered kindly if perhaps she was shortsighted.

                Oh very nice … and I met Vincentius the parrot too.

                Lydia chuckled. Did you now?

                Yes, actually Phoebe told me a rather unusual story.

                At that Lydia broke into gales of laughter. Let me guess, about mixing the aura and the egg?

                Yes, that’s right, replied Franiel, his face breaking into a smile too as he realised the absurdity of it.

                Lydia wiped the tears of laughter from her face. ’Ere Lad, I told you things are not what they always seem. She thought for a moment. I’m parched from my long walk, I am going inside to make a brew. Why don’t you join me? If you are going to be stopping then there are a few things you need to know.

                #886

                Is something bothering you Franiel? You look a bit perturbed.” Phoebe was watching him intently.

                Oh sorry, yeah, I was just thinking about Aum Geog. I really should have sent him a message, you know about losing the chalice.

                Phoebe looked thoughtful. Well we could send a message via one of the Fincheons if it would set your conscience at ease.

                Fincheons? Those are those really beautiful silver birds aren’t they?

                That’s right, they are spectacular aren’t they! I have a pair I use for sending messages on occasion.

                Oh great! Franiel looked immensely relieved. I will go and write a note to him them. He won’t be happy though, I am fairly certain of that.

                Although … silly me. Would you like to use the phone to call him? It would be much quicker. Honestly sometimes I think I am living in the dark ages, not 2008! chuckled Phoebe merrily.

                Franiel laughed with her. Oh I know just what you mean!

                Oh by the way, said Phoebe, there’s a motorbike in the garage. It hasn’t been used for years, but if you can get it going, you are most welcome to use it.

                #876

                Oh what absoloote rubbish, giggled Elizabeth Tattler, taking another large sloorp from her 4th glass of red wine and putting large determined scribbles through the last chapter of the latest Noovel. It was the continuing saga of the Tifijikoo Island story. She really had to finish it, old whats-his-face was on the telepooh to her daily now, demanding to know when it was to be finished.

                More Sex! he had shouted at her last time. More sex, we want the bloody thing to sell don’t we!

                Well I have shut you up haven’t I, she snorted to herself, thinking happily of Dr Bronkelhampton passed out on the couch wearing a pink dress and mascara running down his face.

                More sex eh? Hooommmm, Elizabeth did not particularly believe in putting extraneous sex in her noovels. At the same time that character Veranassessee was annoying her a bit with all her indecisiveness. And what a bloody mouthful that name was. Was it too late to change it? hooommm probably. She had modelled her roughly on the cleaner, Finnley, quite an attractive girl despite her pooty face and superior, bossy ways.

                She vaguely remembered something a tutor at writing school had said to her once about writing sex scenes … what was his name? Emonel … no that was not quite right … Meenol! That was it!

                Make your writing detailed, with accurate depiction of suction noises

                Elizabeth broke into fits of laughter, slamming her fist on the desk gleefully and startling Robert X. (Unfortunately the fainting Mongoats had been banned from the building by that nasty Mr Arak)

                You know Robbie-pooh what is wrong with this?

                Robbie-Pooh, Robbie-Pooh, cackled Robert X.

                IT’S BOORING, The damn characters never do anything. Right well, time to fix that. She took another few slugs of her wine.

                :fleuron:

                Oh God, said Agent Gabriele. Who gives a shit about the Doctor or bloody magpies. I can’t stand this any longer. I must have you Agent V. He lunged towards her, ripping open her robe and exposing her naked body.

                You are so beautiful. All I ever wanted is you. That’s why I demanded this assignment on the Island … to see you again. I have not been able to get you out of my head. You’ve been driving me crazy

                NO NO, cried Veranassessee weakly, but her body said YES YES

                YES!

                Agent Gabriele kissed her on the mouth, making strange and passionate slurping noises, and, unable to resist any longer, she gave in to his need for her.

                ( Yes, Yes, YES! snorted Elizabeth, momentarily unable to write for laughing. Hooommm what about that Mahiliki? He was pathootic. Did he want the girl or not for God’s sake? )

                :fleuron:

                Mahiliki stared anxiously out at the storm. He could think of nothing but his darling Veranassessee. He must know if she was alright. He must go to her. He grabbed his car keys and drove like a madman to the airport.

                ( Hoommm, thought Elizabeth, I really don’t know anything about small island airports and planes. Well booger that, I will research them later on the internoot )

                You must fly me to Tifijikoo Island! demanded Mahiliki, holding the pilot (who had been sitting out the storm in a little airport building thingy ) at knifepoint.

                Are you mad? said the pilot. There’s a freakin cyclone, or hadn’t you noticed?

                Yes, I am mad, I am mad with love. Fly me there or you are a dead man.

                :fleuron:

                ahahahaahah, laughed Elizabeth happily.

                #874
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Already pregnant? ALREADY? Don’t be so soft, Becky laughed, punching Sam playfully on the arm. Then she frowned. What makes you say that, anyway? she asked suspiciously.

                  Before Sam had a chance to reply Becky clapped her hand to her mouth and froze. That man in the park!

                  #867
                  Jib
                  Participant

                    “Actually, Sam said, you are already pregnant. I don’t know if you had realized it, but it is clear in your energy. You are creating a vortex entry point in your womb.”

                    He winked mischievously.

                    “It all seems to be about influence and suggestion these days, he added with a wink. Remember, you are playing with these probabilities not because you are a victim of them, but because they present an interest to you. And remember also that they would be all actualized by one of your probable selves nonetheless.”

                    Becky did the rolling eyes, and it seemed she wouldn’t stop when Sam burst into laughter and hugged her. He kissed her swiftly and said :

                    “You can call Sean now, he understands more about it than you realize.”

                    #866
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      When Sam explained gently to Becky about the essences waiting for an entry point into this dimension, the ones that had chosen her, Becky, she was at a loss as to know what to think.

                      Well I don’t want to let them down, Sam, she said mournfully.

                      Sam laughed and said, You won’t be letting them down, silly. They’ll find another entry point. There’s no shortage of pregnant women in this dimension, you know.

                      But I feel like they’re mine already, Sam, I feel responsible for them now.

                      Laughing loudly, Sam reminded her that resposibility was her own core truth, and not an absolute one. Other essences are not your responsibility, you daft goose!

                      I know that, but I feel somehow connected to them now. I’ll always wonder about them, worry that they made a bad choice and chose a horrid entry point…her voice trailed off, and then she giggled. I’m talking absolute rubbish aren’t I?

                      Frankly, yes, dear, winked Sam. Anyway, aren’t you confusing two separate issues here, Becky? In the future probability that you viewed, Sean was a drunkard, and you had many children. They are not necessarily connected, you know. Sam winked again, and Becky blushed and whacked him over the head with the cushion she’d been clutching.

                      Oh stop! I haven’t even been on my honeymoon yet!

                      #865

                      Dr Bronkelhampton was eager to come back to the fridge to see if one of his patients had taken the bait.
                      So far, his new discoveries have been promising. The use of honeycomb was a clever move, that would drastically lessen the need for expensive and cumbersome machineries. All he had to work out was the dosage.
                      He was not sure the induced mutations wouldn’t be deadly…
                      After all, that was what guinea pigs were meant for.

                      MWAHAHAAHaaahAHha… cough cough… His Machiavellian manic laugh died in a raucous fit of coughing.
                      That had almost ruined his eyeliner.
                      Bugger it

                      #859

                      The wind howled. It screamed in fury. Cyclone Ycart in all its majestic glory was ripping over the island, screaming out its rage, like a demon swirling from hell.

                      The rain started.

                      Veranassessee shivered and cursed beneath the onslaught. Water saturated her long hair, plastered her thin cotton dress to her body and rain ran in rivulets down her face.

                      She looked wildly around, trying to suppress the hysteria rising in her chest. She screamed out their names, but her voice was carried away by the winds. Breathing roughly, she paused, drawing in a calming breath.

                      Then she saw them.

                      Goddamit!

                      She stared in bewilderment. She could barely believe what she was seeing. Mavis had been right when she nervously told her Sharon and Gloria were having a picnic on the beach. There they were like two beached whales, apparently oblivious to the waves lashing perilously close to them.

                      For a moment Veranassessee was sorely tempted to leave them to their fate.

                      #1798

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        Some interesting syncs:

                        Discussing the comment on Franiel and Vincentius with Francie, some things of interest:

                        F: hahaha i laughed at the egg bit :egg_wink:
                        E: bit silly I reckon :)) but somehow it synch’ed with two movies we’ve been watching yesterday
                        F: yes, good to have a bit of silly in our otherwise serious story :|
                        E: In one, there is that :ghost: ghost girl who stalks her husband new love affair, and ends up speaking through a parrot
                        And the other, there is this shaman old woman who remote-views her people went on a quest, and ends up dying in stead of a girl, so that the young one lives…

                        F: oh that is like your plants in the courtyard dream too —just had a recollection of you saying one gave up its pot for the other one
                        E: Oh yes, true… Perhaps it’s just like a layering, like you do for strawberries, you use parts of the roots to do new plants…
                        “Layering is more complicated than taking cuttings, but has the advantage that the propagated portion can continue to receive water and nutrients from the parent plant while it is forming roots.”

                        E: “In air layering (or marcotting), the target region is wounded and then surrounded in a moisture-retaining wrapper such as sphagnum moss ;))

                        Peat moss is also a critical element for growing mushrooms” that’ll make Tracy happy :))
                        In New Zealand, care is taken during the harvesting of sphagnum moss=))

                        F: “it can also be used as a substrate for tarantulas as it is easy to burrow into:spider:

                        E: “Such Sphagnum bogs can also preserve human hair and clothing, one of the most noteworthy examples being Egtved Girl , Denmark”. Egg and B.C. sync :))

                        F: cool name, Egtved. Oh thats interesting about the Egtved girl: due to be public this month
                        E: oh, well spotted!
                        F: shall we all pop over and check it out
                        E: Ahahaha sure :world:

                        #849

                        Al had just inadvertently telepathically overheard Becky’s long monologue, and was rather amused at the situation that he decided to stay quiet and refrain from intervening.
                        It was a sort of interesting experience, to see how it would develop…

                        A voice was starting to make itself heard through Becky’s neuronal pathways though… A feminine voice first… Then a male…
                        He could even sense a third presence too…

                        Al was surprised, as he apparently didn’t really care about what kind of probability would express itself. It seemed it was all valid, and yet, there was something that wanted to make itself heard.

                        Becky was quiet now. She seemed to have finally seen that nothing would happen as intensely and quickly as in her swift imagination.

                        But Al was intrigued… Who were those presence, they felt lively, very humorous too. But they were concerned about Becky’s changes of mood. They were considering probabilities too, as though Becky’s choices were important to them.

                        We are the first-borns of Becky answered the feminine voice who had keep still.
                        Potential first sniggered the male voice.
                        Oh, shut up, Oliver the third one said you know well enough we are creating our realities, so better give her some time… No need to freak her out… After all, it’s like for Dory’s nine dogs, they only came gradually, and she just accepted them…

                        Dory? Al was wondering… He had heard that name recently… At the wedding party perhaps?

                        Dory’s a past overlapping focus of Becky and her step-mother too… answered Léan, the quiet one.

                        Al was befuddled. He had first thought these voices were only Becky’s playing games with herself.

                        Oh sure it was, answered Oliver, we’ve just be using that wave of thoughts to bring us through. It’s very multi-layered.
                        See, take the dogs which Illana talked about right now. You know some of these dogs Dory had (or has, or will have), they have “flecks” of people close to Dory, other essences’ energies. Some are very clearly noticeable, other are more mingled. These voices are multiplexes of voices, more or less subtle energies being expressed. Some are very deep. We were riding the surface of them.

                        So, Illana, Lean and Oliver? That’s it?… Nice to meet you… Al was still thinking aloud (like in big characters printed on a silent kaleidoscopic screen)
                        And that will be your focus names? Oh, yes… probable ones.
                        It’s funny you know, it’s like you are becoming more real now. I can feel some associations coming that help bring you into form. Like Oliver, I associate him with a black dog of Dory. A little grumpy one with funny black eyes.

                        The two female laughters mingled into one delightful chorus. Ahaha, we will give you a point for accurate connection!

                        “And Léan,” Al continued, “you feel like a young blond woman, friend of Dory ready to get married… Yet, I can see you have a black complexion in this probable focus, unlike your siblings… Sounds a bit confusing…”

                        Ahaha, another point!

                        “Let me see, Illana now… I got you connected with another friend of Dory… An paleontologist or geologist, living in the US, blond lively woman with painted nails, and… the image is just gone now…”

                        — Hehehe, that’s close enough, said Illana’s voice. I can see we’ll meet soon Al…

                        And the moment after, the wisps of light were gone.

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