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  • #555
    Jib
    Participant

      Sam just stroked the head of Becky.

      — Joe is the brother of Twilight and Elroy… is it Elroy? Al? Yes I can read it in your mind. Your wig is just great Bekkie Pooh ;) Joe is a variation of tone of Jo or Jo is a variation of tone of Joe… depends from where you look ;))

      #1974

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        WOW… lots of interesting ones in that cloud here:

        — Once under thinking, session clear words God/Human waiting speaking word, language beginning feeling looked. Key herself aware […]
        — Gaughran home looking funny random energies
        — Tracy floating, magic color seemed trip
        — Points side mountains, process great
        — Bugger difficult! Nice interesting moment link :bounce: creating action
        — Trust help face aspects seems play
        — Structures changing… Dancing green heart Finn
        — Badul getting synch princess
        — Twilight book important
        — Elikozoe stories singing magical times. Able feel sort understand images mind, read Armelle. Voice started moments sync call Maevel…

        #549

        I wonder if it’s a private party, Sanso? Arona looked wistfully into the discave with its magical sparkling light and jolly music.

        I don’t know, whispered Sanso. :yahoo_donttellanyone: Let’s just lurk for awhile and see if anyone else turns up.

        Arona and Sanso huddled together in the shadows and watched. :yahoo_whistling:

        #543

        The bal room was ready. Malvina was looking around and decided that all was perfect now
        She felt the subtle ripples of her friends energy. Sam was waiting patiently their arrival.

        The east wall just blurred and began to glow lightly of deep teal and emerald shades, blended in a beautiful and quite creative whirlpool.

        Malvina just moved her attention on the encoding of her hair and shift slightly some hue to express a dark stary night, sparkling and full of mystery.

        A thrill went through her body as she saw Georges and Salome emerge from the wall… and she burst into laughter at the sight of the marmoset which was looking at her with such a big smile :face-monkey:

        Her laugh rippled through the crystals of the cave, making their light iridescent and swinging.

        WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! A giant disco ball :bounce: just for us.

        Georges couldn’t stop laughing and began dancing as Salome was generating a peppy and swinging music… he was all jumping and swirling, and Sam was jumping all around, barking at him with joy.

        — What the hell, began Leörmn but he was fascinated.

        And that’s when a wavy Irtak entered the discave with his 2 dragons… they immediately changed shape and began to swirl around with Georges, and Irtak was wondering if he was dreaming or if it was another process in his discovery… he was feeling as if he was dancing as the man-Georges. :yahoo_hypnotized: His body just started moving following the movements of Georges and they were just one.

        #542

        The old abbot Hrih, was coming back from the gardens of the Monastery, the soil dampened and muddied by the heavy rains of the season sticking to the sole of his sandals. Hrih Chokyam loved to be reacquainted with the rawness of nature, and the fluidity that the rain provided to the ground by transforming it into malleable mud.

        He was bringing back vegetables for the dinner’s soup, and was amazed at the fact that even though he had felt so close to the earth, barefooted in his sandals, he had not even a drop of mud on him.

        He had delayed his choice for much too long already, and the not so subtle pressing of his main confident Aum Geong to officially elect his successor was making him unquiet. He was deeply trustful of Aum Geog, and of his sincerity as a Holder of the clear Light that was being tapped into, channeled and refined by the Monastery’s spiritual endeavours.
        But Hrih was feeling that Aum Geong’s views were slightly too narrow for the heavy task he was wanting him to carry on.
        He was too good at creating structures and rules, and Hrih felt that even if all done in good intent, it would be taking the risk of chocking the great outburst of powerful energy that was lying at the very foundations of the Monastery.

        The young man that he had noticed a few hexades1 ago, though very discreet seemed bright and very dedicated to his task. He had been greeted by all, and had soon felt at home. Franiel, as he was named, was under the tutelage of Jog Lam, a very wise (albeit young) monk that Hrih had adopted some years ago as the parents had been abandoning him a young baby at the eternally opened doors of the Monastery.

        Hrih had made a decision. He would not play favourites. Seeing the blank black Meditation Wall, an idea crossed his mind. He would announce at the dinner that the monks willing to do it could do a short poem of 3 stanzas where they would express their highest truth on the Meditation Wall…

        :fleuron:

        1 On that part of the Duane (the planet where Mount Elok’ram is), time is divided in groups of six days or hexades, each being attributed to one of the Elder Gods: Ghört (Airs) Nærvel (Waters) Agnima (Flames) Selvaniel (Woods) Margilonia (Earths) and Lejüs (Forgotten). The names or the days are Ghordië, Narduë, Agduë, Seldië, Marduë, Shandië.

        Name Element Quality Hexade
        Ghört Airs Male Ghordië
        Nærvel Waters Female Narduë
        Agnima Flames Female Agduë
        Selvaniel Woods Male Seldië
        Margilonia Earths Female Marduë
        (Shaint) Lejüs Forgotten Male Shandië
        #541
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Annabel Ingman beamed at Felicty. She was delighted that the interviews were going so well: four perfect ‘dead guys’ already, and 57 more applicants to interview.

          Welcome to the team Felicity, I’m sure you’ll love it here. We focus on fun, not facts, so just say whatever you want to, and you’ll be fine.

          Felicity returned the smile. I can’t wait to start, Annabel, thanks.

          Oh, by the way, what’s the name of your DG?

          Hhhmmm, Oh, er, Oliver Twist, replied Felicity, Yeah, Oliver Twist.

          Oliver Twist, cool, so that’ll be the ‘Ask DOT’ session then. See you on Friday!

          #538

          A dragon egg was hatching. A bluish light around the shell.
          That egg was not in a rookery, it was in the Marshes of Doom.

          A little girl was passing by and whistling. She was eight and quite unaware of what was happening. But she was drawn to that particular spot where she could see something shining. Her excitement was enhanced by the unheard humming of the baby dragon emerging. Her heart was full of joy and happyness.

          She had that name in her mind Asiir and that song her mother was always singing to her when she was younger. At times she would sing it to her again, lost in her memories. And it was quite endearing a song, about another world blending with their own, that world, what was the name?

          La Phrëal said a voice in her head. She was a bit startled and stopped singing. Nothing… just the joy and the excitement. She started to walk again in the tall grass.

          She continued with her song and began to see the edges of the egg. Wow, she stopped in awe. It was beautiful, with many shades of blue and it was pulsing. Seeing it she was even more full of joy and of love. All fear she could have had before had vanished of her heart.

          Lola, I’m choosing you

          Hearing these words in her head, her heart exploded of joy, it was so intense the she burst out crying and laughing at the same time. The shell had cracked open and she could see the little creature emerging, so graceful, pink with golden shades. How will she explain that to her parents? :yahoo_rose:

          #528
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Get out of bed you lazy fuckwits, shouted Captain Hendrix. GET UP!! GET UP!! The storms a mile off Blinton Lighthouse, GET UP!!

            #515

            That Abe sure is ugly as a burnt boot and crazier than a run over coon, aint he, said Isadora, one of the saloon girls who Twilight didn’t cotton on to much. The other girls laughed.

            Twilight was real fond of old Abe, and truth was she was feeling right tetchy and pernikity and itching for a fight, and she weren’t much in the mood for dancing that night.

            And your brain cavity wouldn’t make a drinkin cup for a canary Isadora. So why don’t you just shut that big old stupid mouth of yours before everyone cottons on to the fact that you are studying to be a half-wit.

            Why you are nothing but a no-good little strumpet, screeched Isadora, lunging at Twilight and trying to grab her blond wig. Twilight stepped nimbly out of the way.

            And you aint nothing but a stupid little buckle bunny, taunted Twilight. You got nothing better to do then follow those rodeo fellows around?

            Snakes Alive! exclaimed Madame Butterbutt. Will you both hold yer tongues and stop yer bitching. And will you get a hurry on Twilight. Yer ain’t even dressed yet.

            Isadora started crying. That Twilight started it, she snivelled.

            Sooner i get rid of this damn one horse town the better, muttered Twilight under her breath. She touched the jewelled dagger lodged between her breasts. Those damn liquor breath cowboys better not mess with me tonight.

            Old Abe, propping up the bar, chuckled

            #1493
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              Ohoh, I slightly modified a chunk of code that mangled the links with an ampersand (&) and now, behold…

              I could be brown
              I could be blue
              I could be violet sky
              I could be hurtful
              I could be purple
              I could be anything you like :yahoo_smug:
              Gotta be green
              Gotta be mean :yahoo_devil:
              Gotta be everything more :yahoo_cowboy:
              Why don’t you like me? :yahoo_eyelashes:
              Why don’t you like me? O:-)
              Why don’t you walk out the door! :-h

              (From Mika’s Grace Kelly)

              :fleuron:

              Here’s the code…

              p=. I could be %{color:blue}blue% and *bold*

              …to produce that:

              I could be blue and bold

              #507

              Ted was quite fond of Ogrean.
              Twilight was a bit sorry for the sheriff, for she had thought him a good guy at first,… whatever that means… but obviously he was a bit blinded by the slickness of the slimy condescending Pompousaur.

              But something interesting had happened this day, and she wondered how it would change things again.
              Apparently, from what she had caught from the scene, Ted had left the saloon in a cold rage, and it was quite obvious that the Pudgeon was a bit distraught… What could have moved the jovial sheriff like that?

              When she and Anna were changing clothes behind the scene after the representation, Anna started to talk quite freely and unexpectedly about the accident.

              — That Marshall guy is not as silly as he seems…

              As she was more talking to herself, Twilight didn’t answer.

              — What d’ya reckon? Anna asked more directly
              — Oh me? I don’t really know what happened…
              — Don’t play dumb with me, girl. You’re smarter than you wanna show.

              Twilight took some time to ponder…
              — I don’t think that Ogrean tried to bribe the sheriff, not as obviously…
              — Yeah…
              — Apparently, he started to explain the sheriff who he was supposed to arrest, and that didn’t please him the least.
              — More likely, yes. Definitely sounds like him…
              — Anna?
              — Yes?

              Twilight almost wanted to tell her how she did understand Anna and how it must have been difficult for her with that child from Mc Gaughran, but she couldn’t express all of that.

              — Terry is sweet.
              — Yes he is, he’s a lovely boy. I love him so much despite…
              — I know.

              When she came back to their ranch, Twilight felt relieved somewhat about what had occurred. Perhaps that this era of heavy cloaked ruthless order incarnated by Ogrean was coming to an end.
              She was a hopeless dreamer.

              #505

              Sirielle looked through the crystalline window.

              A humpback whale was passing by. Sirielle loved the song of the whales. Gorgean whales like this one were males, singing all during the rut to attract females miles away. Every season they would keep most of the same music, adding variations at times to the melody. This one was a sly one, Sirielle could tell. With its beautiful purulent budgeonic spots on its back, it was an old mighty male whale that she had seen already the past seasons, but its song had changed ever so slightly. It had probably plagiarized some of the most successful songs from other whales to become more attractive and that would make him a bit over the top.
              At least, the females had a good parade for such insistent huge males, they could just put themselves upside down, close to the surface, so that the indelicate male could not have access to the holy of holies.
              Sirielle felt so close to the whales.

              Today, she had noticed the first changes on her body. She was growing gills, and soon would be able to breathe underwater. She was already a proficient swimmer, from a young age, as her hands and feet had grown swimfins. But the most interesting modification wouldn’t occur before a certain age.
              When she had entered the room of Crystals, she had been a bit disappointed. She had expected some great ceremony with old wizened long-bearded robed priests to operate the crystals, but there had been only a young man not much older than herself, and a distracted middle-aged woman.
              The Crystals had the ability to beam some specially focused light and provoke realignment of the patterns of the body. It was like the vibration carried by the light and enhanced by the crystal would be modifying the vibrational quality of her organism, and make it change itself quite naturally from the inside.

              She couldn’t wait to go out in the oceanic depths and test her newly grown organs to swim with the huge cetacean.

              #504

              The Lemmings were having great fun exploring their newfound abilities in the Gremlins dimension.
              There were still a few drawbacks like dealing with light, but it was fun beyond measure to scare people out of their wits, and make razor-sharp toothed grins.

              :face-devil-grin:

              #1314

              In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                December 3 rd

                ( Hey, that’s 12.3, might be a hint for growth… Yurick)

                A communication about coordinate points, and how to travel between idea clusters

                As the story starts to develop in a rapid and very intertwined manner, much like waves in the ocean, overlapping and rippling from and to many directions, Yurick became concerned that it may be difficult to keep track of, or rather to retain an ability to graciously navigate in it.

                Let us imagine for a moment. Take your own life. It is composed of a multitude of moments. Your construct of linear time gives you the impression that there is a continuous succession or stream of moments.
                In a manner of speaking, it is easier for you to grok the concept of multiple points of attention for your naturally associate them with your space. You can easily envision your many focuses happening all at once in a variety of places, towns or countries, and having a possibility to zoom in and out, so that to encompass more than your single current focus.
                But what you do in engaging your conceptualization with your focuses would be equally valid were you to engage it in relation to that single focus that is you, in all of its moments of actualization.
                But that would be far less familiar, as you identify quite strongly with that construct of time.

                As that story unfolds, you discover that there are an infinity of points of attention dispersed in many many comments, and one comment can include many more than one point of attention itself. What you would be tempted to do, for it is something that is very automatic in your current associations, would be to attempt to draw lines between the points, to recreate a linearity, and thus facilitate your understanding of a certain action.

                This is unnecessary and within your current movement of expansion of awareness would be counterproductive.

                But you are familiar with that concept of coordinate points. For most of you, you once again associate them strongly with the space continuum, but they could be used in many many other situations. That story being one of them.
                The coordinate points are in a manner of speaking, conglomerate of very coherent energy; they would not be “points” per se, but rather high concentration of these points of attention that your attempt to link together.
                As such, they become the links that you are in search of, for in that drawing of energy points of similar expressions, they also become passageways between the associations that the points are linked to.
                As a matter of fact, the “point” that you come to identify to the concentrated cluster of points would rather be a tone representative of that coherent energy that you can use to activate the links contained within that cluster of points.

                That would be the reason why Yurick, in coming to understand that concept, has slightly adapted the original cloud of tags in the story, so that it can expand and be used to access the coordinate points that the tags are, quite simply.

                #500
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  On hearing the scream Dr Bronklehampton jumped up from what he was doing and rushed towards the laboratory where the Mummy, or Sasha Goldenwort, was having her fifth session under the laser. The only other person with any medical training of note on the island was Nurse Bellamy, who currently was down on the beach climbing coconut palms. A ridiculous pastime in Dr Bronklehampton’s opinion, however a young native boy had taught Nurse Bellamy something called the frog technique for climbing palm trees, and she now seemed to derive great pleasure from skimming up and down and bringing him back coconuts. The problem was, he reflected as he puffed down the corridor, that they had far too much time on this island with not enough to keep them occupied for some months now.

                  A smell of burning greeted Dr Bronklehampton as he rushed into the laboratory. Sasha was lying outstretched on the floor.

                  Dr Bronklehampton, medical expert that he was, knew at once something must have gone horribly wrong. He rang the alarm located on the wall by the door in the hope it would raise Nurse Bellamy, and rushed to Sasha’s side.

                  Sasha was dead.

                  He could see this immediately. Her skin, which just a short time ago was a beautiful and youthful smooth peachy colour, was now covered in purple weals.

                  He sat silently for a moment thinking, then calmly and deliberately walked to the laboratory door and locked it.

                  :fleuron:

                  Nurse Bellamy was indeed halfway up a particularly tall palm tree when the alarm sounded. Oh bugger, she swore. By the time she arrived back at the treatment center, Dr Bronklehampton was reclining in his office. So sorry, he said with an apologetic smile, false alarm. Hope you weren’t inconvenienced. Anyway, good thing you are here, I believe two of the new guests have arrived, you might like to go and meet them.

                  Oh, he said casually , as though an afterthought, Sascha decided to leave early, while the hydroplane was here. She said to say goodbye to you. Yes, she is absolutely delighted with the results of her treatment.

                  #498

                  some writing by Twilight

                  Jo fixed me up a swing. It hung from the old elm tree out the front. That’s my favourite place. I just sit there rocking and thinking, and thinking and rocking. Sometimes I would weave stories or sometimes I would dream about when I am real famous. I know I will miss Jo and Elroy, but then I cheer myself up thinking how, when I am rich, I will visit them and give them money and presents and how fine that will be.

                  Elroy and Jo don’t know about my stories or how I love to write. I ain’t much good. I didn’t get much schooling but Elroy helped me some and then I would try and teach myself the rest. The only book we have is a big old bible. That is written in real fine words. The part I like the best is a song that Solomon wrote. I don’t know how the tune went but the words are real nice. It is real romantic too. I dream one day some man will use words like that to me. Not like those drunken slobs round these parts. Anyway, that’s how I know I am not much good, because I can’t write nothing like Solomon. But I try anyway.

                  Yesterday I was sitting out on the swing rocking and thinking and young Dan from the ranch over the way turned up on his horse. He looked real hot and red and sweaty. Mostly though, he is real fine looking, and I confess I have a soft spot for him. So I leapt off the swing real quick and straightened myself up and bit my lips to make them all big and red. I wanted him to see I had developed some in the last little while.

                  Where’s your brothers, Twi? he said to me.

                  I felt he didn’t seem to be giving me the appreciation I hoped for, so I did a little flick of my head and gave him the look I had been practising. I had seen the other girls do this look to the men at the saloon, and it seemed to work a treat. I gestured at the same time, real slow and casual, and I said “Out the back, Dan.” in a honey voice.

                  He started to ride off, like he was in a hurry. But then he stopped. My heart did a little flutter. He said to me, “You know Twi, the boys at the ranch were talking about you. And it wasn’t the sort of talk should be said about a lady”.

                  When Dan said that, I felt he had kicked me in the guts. I wanted to gasp. But I am plenty used to putting up with things and not showing my true feelings, so I just looked at him real cold. Then I spat. I have been practising my spitting and I can do it real good now. Nearly as good as Jo.

                  “I am just telling you Twi” he said. I thought he would say more, but he seemed to reflect for a moment, then shook his head and off he went in a hurry to find the boys.

                  Elroy and Jo looked real bothered when I saw them later. I knew when to hold my tongue so I did not give them no smart talk, and I cooked up a real fine bean dish for their supper. It was real quiet over the table that night. Truth was, I still felt mighty bad over what Dan had said.

                  I confess I felt some cares and sadness on me that evening when I went to bed, and found I could not sleep. I got out my diary and thought I would do some writing.
                  I tried to write what my name, Twilight, means to me. My real name is Tina Willemine Ivy El Disperso. I always been called Twi. Then Hank at the saloon, he says one night, “I am calling you Twilight” and that sort of caught on. It made me feel special, having my own stage name.

                  I started writing. Lavender blue sky bleeding into the dark. I thought that sounded quite a good start to my writing, so feeling a bit encouraged I went on some more: Twilight is a magic time. It is the time I see things that aint there, but maybe they could be. My eyes play tricks on me in the half light and I feel like I could be anyone. I feel like I could be someone who I isn’t. Twilight is the time of promises. The promise and mystery of the night to come. It is inbetween time when you know the ordinary stuff could be magic.

                  I stopped. I weren’t never going to be able to write like Solomon. I knew that and I felt real bad. At least I could dance though, and that was going to make me famous. But that thought could not cheer me up this night and I confess I cried myself to sleep like a baby.

                  #497

                  Hank, the saloon pianist, was hopelessly in love with Anna.

                  But she had so many wooers, I hadn’t dared say how much he loved the blond dancer. For fear of public ridicule mostly, as he didn’t think he was very good-looking, with his horse-face… Not that she really cared with all these men having gone into her bed. But he couldn’t take the risk. Better a life in her shadow than taking a chance and spoil everything.

                  He had always been here to care for her.
                  When that young one had came to dance too, he’d been the one to make it easy for them. Or he thought he did…
                  What was annoying Anna the most was that the newcomer would be using a blond wig and that might eclipse her. Of course, that wasn’t what Anna had said, but Hank knew her well enough to understand.
                  He was the one coming up with that idea of Twilight as a stage name for the other one, keeping the shining Dawn for Anna. Like sisters, yet worlds apart. Apparently they both had found the idea great, and even if for Hank, Dawn and Twilight were different movements of the same seesaw, for Anna, it was pretty obvious that Dawn came before Twilight.

                  When Anna had been fat with her blue-eyed baby boy, he had been providing her some shelter for some time. It was so obvious for everybody that nothing could happen between them… Anna was oblivious, trying to get herself a proper husband. She had almost convinced that Jo that he was the father. Hopefully Hank had thwarted the attempt. He had his own idea of who was the father, and that wasn’t something to be proud of.
                  And Hank had better keep his mouth shut, as the guy in question wasn’t one to allow being tickled on such sensitive subjects.
                  In the end, Anna got fed up with all his attentions, called him a sticky leech. How ungrateful…

                  Now she was with that old bloke… A fat half-bald guy with long unkempt greyish greasy hair who had lost his wife, eloped with their former neighbour. The story had provided a good laugh to everyone who was well aware of it. But somehow Anna took compassion for that Manuel — who was nicknamed the Bar Rook due to his pressing penchant for alcoholic beverages.

                  Hank was finding Twilight more interesting… Free of romantic bonds and dazzlingly beautiful as she was growing.
                  Once in the beginning of her representation he had found her crying behind the bar, after having been hauled around by Anna once again.

                  She had told him an interesting story about her wig. It was a gift from her mother’s foster sister. The two women had suckled the same Ol’ Granny Lucy and had kept very close over the years. But her mother’s foster sister had a tough life, and she made a business of selling her golden hair to make wigs. Twilight’s was one of those. A gift from this aunt, which was all the more dear and precious to her. She had said to Twilight that it would draw to her good fortune, and fame too…
                  It was easy for Hank to imagine that to become true.

                  #494
                  Jib
                  Participant

                    The air was filled with anticipation. Phurt was feeling it for a few days and it was not the usual intuition stuff. It wasn’t conveyed by the silky threads or her web or of the other webs of the others like her… it was in the air, and it was very exciting.

                    All her sisters were excited also and it was mainly translating by a deep hunger. It was associated with the hunt. It felt like a new thrilling game of sort.

                    But now, all they could do was being patient ‘til the arrival of the new preys. It’s been so many seasons since the last ones came to their island.

                    :recycle: :weather-clear: :weather-few-clouds: :weather-overcast: :weather-showers: :weather-snow: :weather-storm: :recycle:

                    There was still a vibration in the air she couldn’t dissassociate from the main one, the exciting one. The main one was so intense that she even was doubting of the slight uncomfort of this weird one. She wanted to talk with the Elder Narani. She was the most sensitive of her kind, and the oldest also. She would surely know about this vibration.

                    But first she had to found a gift :yahoo_cow: and wrap it with the finest silk she could create. She began slowly to move from her centered position on her web and a subtle mechanism in her bodyconsciousness began the process of generating that finery and the poison that wouldn’t kill her gift.

                    #489

                    Eh, Leonora, what a stroke of ‘luck’! Beattie was chortling gleefully.

                    I know! And right next to the entrance too, cool creating, Bea!

                    They clinked their glasses together in celebration.

                    I can’t believe we created DSL Internet cover as well! Heheheh… Too f’kin’ cool, Beattie!

                    And a lemon tree right outside on the patio, how perfect is that! Let’s have another G&T, eh?

                    Wouldn’t say no, Leo, replied Beattie.

                    WHOA! woohoo, did you see the lights flash?

                    #480

                    Did you tell them about the, you know……Paquita asked Jose, lowering her voice despite the fact that they were alone.

                    What? Oh THAT. No, are you kidding? Only a stranger would agree to live in my finca, Paqui, you know that! Everyone local knows about the… you know…

                    What if they find it?

                    They won’t find it, Jose hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. There had been weird goings on at the finca for years; much more so lately: it was increasing. Ever since he’d found that hole in the side of the large pyramid shaped hill, there had been ghostly goings on, odd sounds, peculiar smells, flashes of coloured lights, all manner of strange and disconcerting events.

                    Jose Maria was glad he was leaving. He’d miss the goats, but well, he could hardly take them with him. The goats would be ok without him.

                    He couldn’t venture to say the same about the two English dears though. Time would tell.

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