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  • #801

    The cold wind was blowing upon the marshes. The atmosphere was damp and dark with threatening gray clouds. A storm was approaching and Asiir was dreaming.

    Her dreams were so strong that they were triggering many emotions in her rider. Since their bonding seven years ago, their link had grown stronger and Lola wouldn’t think of shutting it down even in those uncomfortable moments. They were one.

    Lola was feeling a menace, some undefined threat coming with the storm, as if the storm was just the visible counterpart of what was preparing. In those moments, Lola couldn’t help but think of her family and her village… Her fist grasped tightly the grip of the sword she was holding.

    Everyone was killed when she was nine. Her dragon wasn’t fully developed at that time and couldn’t help her save her people. All Asiir could do was shield her from them as she was shielding herself, not even thinking of it.

    She sighed deeply, releasing the pressure of the storm and of the dreams. She’d learnt not to hold on the powerful emotional responses but to open herself as a channel of her dragon’s dreams. All she could do was let the energy flow through her. Was it Asiir creating the storm or the storm disturbing Asiir’s dreams? She wasn’t aware of the answer yet, but at times it had bothered her to think that her dragon could cause “bad things” to happen.

    A chilly breeze and a surge of electricity. She grinned impishly.
    It was the time of her lesson.

    You’re late master. she thought to the shadowy figure behind her. She was feeling something different that day in the presence. You’re not alone. I can feel a different energy with you today…

    The dragon growled in her agitated sleep.

    Your emotions are dragon drenched again, Lola. I know you consider it a proof of your connection with your beast, but it may be far more damaging than you think.

    Lola had felt a twinge at how Samira had called her friend, she was feeling her emotions rise dangerously to the point which she had learned she could not control herself. She had always wondered if Samira was seriously considering dragons as beasts or if she was teasing her, especially since she had let the connection develop in such a way.

    You’re going to have a new teacher…

    Lola’s heartbeat accelerated slightly, so slightly, but she could feel her mentor’s smile upon her interrogations. Was she leaving? She’d always dreaded such a moment. She felt the wry expression of Samira.

    I’m not going away… you need a training that I can’t give you. You need to learn how to ride properly over your bond and not get consumed by it, and Noraam can teach you that.

    A strange impression of connection with the new energy flew in her, making her feel quite uneasy. Such an intimacy was unusual with another human energy. Or was he human?

    A sudden surge of energy made her wince. She turned to her mentor and was surprised to only see Samira in her stout armor. She could feel the strength of the other energy but she couldn’t give him a form. She was feeling nudged gently from many directions at the same time and realized that she was afraid of loosing her bond with her friend. Wasn’t she trusting her bond? Another chill, and the rain started falling.

    You won’t really need all that Samira taught you during these last 4 years

    The inner voice was almost inaudible, but still she could feel it was not a voice and that the communication was going through another pathway. The vegetation of the marshes and few rocks were shifting to an unnatural yellow tint, and the faint glow around her teacher was growing in intensity. Actually, all the objects around her was beginning to glow, the limits of their shapes were collapsing.

    Lola was sill feeling the link with Asiir but it was thinning down in such an unfamiliar way.

    I’m going to help you remove the veils that Samira helped you put on your consciousness when you first met. But first you need to renew the link with yourself.

    She heard a vague sound of steel on the ground… had she lost her sword? She couldn’t feel her body. She couldn’t move as she was used to… but was it still something to move? The face of a man was forming in the energy patterns of the glowing clouds. Was he close or far away? Was he huge or of human size? Was she massive?

    A pounding sound in the distance of her inner ear… a familiar call but she was still so far.

    #800

    Pondering the significance of his dream , Franiel set out again. It was the third morning since he had woken to find the chalice missing, and he was no closer to knowing where he was going. Yet he had taken the advice of the BBL and felt all the better for it in his spirit.

    Morning! Franiel called a greeting to an old woman who was passing by, delighted to see signs of life, and wondering if it meant he was near a Village. Might I ask where you are taking that basket of eggs?

    A good morning to you young man. Certainly you may ask, I am taking these into the Village Market to sell.

    And where might that be, it is not the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon by any strange chance? asked Franiel, thinking nothing would surprise him anymore.

    The old woman looked at him in astonishment. The Village of Chard Dam Jarfon! You surely have a very long journey before you if you are heading for the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon. No indeed, I am going to the Village of Chard Dut Jep, an hour or so from here.

    Franiel considered this for a moment. And if I keep heading the way I am going, and from whence you have started, where might I be going?

    The old woman hesitated and looked at Franiel with an odd expression in her dark eyes.

    I am not sure if you want to do that, for this is a very long and lonely way you are heading. Unless you are going to the old Chesterhope mansion, and there’s not many who would do be doing that anymore.

    How very interesting, said Franiel, rather intrigued. Is that where you have come from Old Woman?

    The old woman gazed searchingly at Franiel for a moment before answering.

    Aye it is, I work for Madame Chesterhope. I am the only one left now and it has been like that for many a long year, save for old Derwent of course, him who minds the gardens, but he’s not right in the mind that one and Madame keeps him on out of the kindness of her heart, said the Old Woman, and Franiel sensed some deep sadness in her voice, but in the next breath it was gone and he wondered if it was a trick of his mind.

    Why don’t you come to the Village with me? she asked. Are you looking for work? There’s plenty would take on a fine young man such as yourself.

    Would your Madame Chesterhope be looking for someone such as myself by any chance? asked Franiel, For I have nowhere in particular I am headed, and I am in need of some way of keeping myself. And as he spoke the words out loud he found himself wondering at them, yet he felt such an odd sense of anticipation inside himself, as though perhaps there was some new adventure to be had after all.

    Again the old woman looked at Franiel appraisingly for a long time. Eventually she spoke.

    When you get to the crossways turn left and keep heading that way for 2 miles till you see the Chesterhope sign. It’s an up and down path for a ways to get to the mansion from there. When you get there, it would be best to keep in mind all is not as it might seem. I will say no more and bid you farewell, for I have still got a ways to go.

    Perhaps I will see you later then! Franiel called after her.

    She turned and looked back at him. Perhaps.

    #1738

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      MORE ON ANGELS

      I have been seeing a large number of “444’s”. I googled the number and found that one association with this number is of angels (there were other meanings as well, for me it is about choosing one which resonates with me, or creating a meaning). Well, i sort of liked that interpretation so now whenever i see 444 i think of “beings of light” and the support of the universe.

      Mr X’s friend Kelvin said to him one day recently that Finn would suit driving a “??????” car (some rare and exotic make of car). :yahoo_eyelashes:

      AHEM, okay to be technically accurate I made up “rare” and “exotic” … what i mean is I am not sure what car it was, (perhaps I will ask later and google it and hopefully I won’t be too offended), however that doesn’t mean much as I am one of those people who refer to cars by their colour rather than their make or model.

      At the movies yesterday my attention was caught by a car in the picture, the numberplate was 444. At that moment MrX whispered to me and told me that was the car Kelvin said I should drive. Well I still have no idea what the car was as I was busy noticing the numberplate, but I thought that was such a cool synch, sort of really reminding me to trust in the support of the Universe.

      Also on the way home, while driving home thinking about it i saw the the numberplate ANGILZ. :yahoo_angel:

      #794

      Franiel dreamed of strange eggs being dropped from giant birdlike creatures in the sky. Some of the eggs exploded into flashes of light in the inky darkness of the night sky. He fell to the ground and hid his face in his arms and waited. He could hear the highpitched noise of the eggs falling, getting louder and louder as they approached the ground, and he knew his life was in the hands of the gods as to whether or not he was destroyed.

      At last all became quiet. He raised himself cautiously and began to examine the earth to see what damage had been caused. The dog of Leonard accompanied him, yet all of a sudden it ran from him. All else was forgotten as Franiel followed the dog, fearing for it’s well being.

      As if in pursuit of a hare, the dog ran and ran, eventually coming to a large mansion and running in through the open door. The walls and floors of the mansion were made of marble, ornate pillars and statues graced the wide entrance way. The mansion appeared to be deserted, yet Franiel had no thought for that, only of bringing the dog to safety.

      The dog disappeared into one of the many rooms of the palatial hallway with Franiel in hot pursuit. The room was empty save for a large Bengal Tiger, a magnificent and regal creature, radiating a strange power from it’s shiny yellow eyes. The tiger was about to take the small dog in it’s mouth, and Franiel grabbed a branch from a tree which was lying on the ground (and within his dream he wondered how the branch came to be there) and fearlessly placed it in the mouth of the beast. The branch was woefully inadequate, a mere twig in the jaws of this powerful beast, yet it distracted the tiger sufficiently for the dog to run to safety.

      Now Franiel faced the beast alone, perplexed, yet strangely unafraid.

      #1732

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        that’s really cool, I just thought it was a made up word “ooh” word, but that adds another dimension to the synch :yahoo_happy:

        :yahoo_big_hug:

        #1949
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Finn had a dream about the story:

          Yurick had divided the individual comments/posts from the story and sorted out all the ones which had something to do with dragons. Finn was gathering them up to read them, the comments looked like soft white cushions. They were sort of squarish in appearance. As she read them in the order Yurick had sorted them, she realised they made more sense than she had previously thought. Apparently, Yurick told her, he had taken them to a publisher who said he might be interested in publishing them but they would need some re-working. Then Finn was at some building she did not recognise. She told a lady that she needed to care for the comments. Finn was putting them into a row of terracotta pots and as she did they were changing into plants, some of them were quite large already, others barely showed above the soil, some looked a bit weedy and limp. She thought they would probably need some watering.

          #788
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Margaret reckoned she’d made a wise choice deciding (with agreement of course) to ‘observe’ Becky. Her role as lifetime observing essence was proving to be rather amusing. What great fun it was to be married to the same man twice. At least remarked Margaret’s essence, whose vibrational tone translated as the name Yipper.

            #787
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              A draft suddenly went through the open window, rattling a pile of previously disarrayed papers that Finnley had neatly put on the desk, catching the office cleaner by surprise.
              (Albert is wondering now what is the gender of Finnley, but probably that has to do with his new exploration and isn’t very important. Al is agreeing with himself on using handy ellipsis)

              Finnley, perplexed by the thoughts having went in accompanying the rogue wind, closed the opened window. The air was decidedly more breathable, now the emanations of nicobeck were dispersed. Not to mention the trails of that magpie’s droppings. Finnley would gladly do with a bootle to roll them into a big ball.

              What was with the third-person talking anyway? Finnley was wondering… And who is Al? Finnley knew of a Haley, but no Al for sure…
              Surely that Tattler’s madness was contagious…

              Putting the papers back onto the desk of Mrs Tattler (yes, I think she’s a she this one), Finnley notices something that catches Finnley’s eye (“stop messing with my thoughts!” thinks Finnley)…

              … They were thus one of the first sentient races created by the Powers with limited awareness to populate the lands of Dooane (note: replace all previous occurrences of “Earth” with Dooane, and M’si with Moortuane). Uglings were dwarfish, a bit stout and let’s say plain ugly for most of them. But they inherited a keen mind and greatest forging skills.
              Uglings revered the Power known to them as the Goddess of the Earths, Margiloonia, as their resemblance with raw clay and unpolished rocks were for them the evidence of such lineage. Combining their craft, they created an exquisite cup in dedication to the Goddess. Huriol, the First Ugling King in these times of Legend was given the cup to care for.
              The Power known as Margiloonia upon seeing this offering of acknowledgment to her was very pleased and imbued the cup with transmootation powers which could be used by its true owner for healing, and some said, even to resurrect the flesh…

              A loud knock at the door drew Finnley out of the contemplation.

              Isn’t that vacooming done yet? I have a book to write! The stridulent voice of Elizabeth Tattler was asking behind the still closed door.

              #778
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Meanwhile, Becky was still connecting strongly to the Laughing Monk, Schnortz, from ancient Kuzhebar. Reciting another limerick to herself, she made her way across the flooded street, attracted to a warm and cozy looking cafe on the other side.

                “The goat floating secret is this”
                Nanaconda butts in with a hiss.
                “Stretch out in the sun!
                Relax and have fun;
                Now come here and give me a kiss”

                The flood water rushed past Becky’s ankles, causing her to stagger. Unidentified floating debris bumped the back of her legs and she almost buckled.

                “Well then, what shall we do now, Deliria?”
                Asked a white faced and trembling Wisteria.
                “Go for the kiss?
                Or give it a miss?”
                Replied she, “Let’s consult Wikipedia.”

                Becky reached the other side of the street relatively unscathed and headed towards the Wisteria Garden Internet Cafe.

                #776

                Bea was drifting off to sleep on the patio, the gentle spring warm on her face. A stork glided past, and she noticed the first amethyst wisteria blossom against the blue sky. Dreamily, she heard a limerick forming in her mind:

                There was an old crone called Wisteria
                Who was prone to bouts of hysteria.
                She fretted and flapped
                Til her energy sapped,
                And then she made friends with Deliria.

                The crone called Deliria hailed from
                The unsettled realms of the maelstrom;
                But she learned how to float
                With the help of a goat
                And considered it was quite a brainstorm.

                When Wisteria met with Deliria
                She said “My! but you seem so familiar!
                I admire your hat
                So let’s have a chat
                About goat floating maelstrom criteria”

                #1723

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  “I lay on a couch in my normal clothes and a nurse put some anaesthetic drops in my eyes. Dr Allamby then put a retainer on one eye to hold the lids wide open. He used a microscope while he asked me to look into a blue light. First, he made marks with ink on my cornea. Then he used a hand-held device to send radio waves into my cornea, making eight tiny dots in a ring around the edge, near the white of my eye. This changes the shape of the cornea, making it more curved, which increases the focus power of the eye and so helps to improve vision.
                  It didn’t hurt at all. It took about five minutes to do one eye. Then he did the same thing with my other eye, though this time he put two circles of eight dots around my cornea. This was to sharpen my reading vision”

                  #761

                  So then, said Franiel sitting down beside a small mound of earth, what now?

                  The top of the mound of earth was smoothed flat, and with a twig Franiel began to form small spiral patterns abstractedly in the earth. He felt no desire to go back to the monastery and face Aum Geog with the news of the loss.

                  He held the twig high, and then released it to fall to the ground. It fell without sound, landed unharmed on the mound of earth. He closed his eyes and in the dark at the back of his mind, he heard the voice of his grandmother whisper; Spirals make more sense than crosses Franiel my boy, joys more than sorrows.

                  Spirals make more sense than crosses….

                  None of it made much sense to Franiel. The feeling of freedom he felt momentarily slipped away. He was left looking at the space where it had been, feeling empty. The task given him by Aum Geog had given him a feeling of purpose, for a short time had allowed him to forget how lost he felt. Yet now the task had been taken from him, and he was in no hurry to retrieve it, he saw it for the illusion it had been.

                  What would it feel like to want to go somewhere? Or to want to be something, to want to be a monk, to want to be a teacher, to want to be the father of a family? To be able to arrange oneself neatly in a box and say I belong here?

                  Spirals make more sense than crosses …. day becomes night becomes day, lives come into being, and go out of being … there is always new life coming into being …… around and around

                  He began to walk along the path, away from where he had already been …. towards something new? He caught sight of a dead blackbird lying in the long grass to the side of the track and knelt down to look at it.

                  It is quiet and still.

                  He dug a hole, scraping in the dirt with his fingers and then using a stone to lever the lifeless body into the hole. The bird’s brown eyes are still open. Franiel covered it with dirt, looking deep into it’s eyes, until there is no sign of it, just a mound of earth.

                  He traced a spiral in the dirt.

                  Joys more than sorrows…

                  He sat back on his heels, and keeping his mind empty, he sang to the dead bird.

                  #1905
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “The FBI believed that many New Left leaders had a weakness for spiritualist mumbo-jumbo, so a 1968 memo suggested mailing them anonymous cartoons such as the one pictured here (scroll down)

                    Subsequent mailings (from increasingly closer locations) could say “The Siberian Beetle is Black” or “The Siberian Beetle Can Talk.” Other proposed characters included “The Chinese Scorpion” and “The Egyptian Cobra”–anything with a sinister meaning open to mystical interpretation. According to FBI documents, the messages were intended to cause concern, mental anguish, suspicion, and distrust among their recipients.” –Brian Boling

                    “…..on another occasion, an agent noted the counterculture’s ‘‘yen for magic’‘ and proposed that the F.B.I. send carefully chosen targets a series of drawings with ‘‘mystical’‘ or ‘‘sinister’‘ overtones. His suggestions included a drawing of a beetle, which would be made all the more ‘‘sinister’‘ by its caption, ‘‘The Siberian Beetle Can Talk.’‘ In theory, the perplexed recipients’ efforts to interpret ‘‘the significance of the . . . message’‘ would paralyze them with ‘‘mental anguish.’‘ In fact, such missives proved more laughable than harmful.”

                    Beetle sync (with last nights Indian takeaway )……and a sync with my most recent comment about Elvira’s days as an investigator….

                    #1718

                    In reply to: Synchronicity

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      A sort of Foriegnors in Scotland Sync, although in reverse, as it were…..more like ‘Scots Abroad’…

                      My (Scottish) friend in Madrid invited me up for the weekend next month. Janet speaks Spancottish, a sort of Iberian-Celtic patois….(not to be confused with Spancrottishce, which is, of course, something completely different)

                      Is this a half sync, a reverse sync, or a reverse drop twisted three quarter sync?

                      #1717

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        that’s interesting Jib, reading this bought back vivid recollection of a book I had as a kid of the “golden age” actors and actresses. I found a number of funny little synchs when reading the Deborah Kerr link … this one made me smile “Her first acting teacher was her aunt, Phyllis” …. as when I was writing the comment for Shar and Glor yesterday, (it is comment number 1233) one of them said she got her psychic abilities from her Aunt Phyllis, a name not based on anyone, it just came to mind with a certain luminosity …. (although I then changed the name to Aunt Philly to be more in character :yahoo_laughing: ).

                        #1716

                        In reply to: Synchronicity

                        AvatarJib
                        Participant

                          Ok, I don’t know how I fell upon this one, but all I can remember is that the name made me think of the gibbons syncs of the last few days…

                          Cedric Gibbons

                          Apparently he was an American art director, and “he is credited as the designer of the Oscar statuette in 1928.”
                          Well that also syncs with Tracy’s comment about the parrot Oscar.. though I don’t remember where I saw it… maybe on her multiply thingy… and also after Eric’s great cubical comment, I remember seeing one of her messages to him and she said that he won an Oscar for it… :-?

                          The other sync with him is that these last few days I had the impression of connecting to “ancient actors or actresses” those of the “golden age”… so to speak. Well I have not much to say about it except that it is a sync :p I still don’t know where it will lead me.

                          (added later)

                          Well apparently other syncs… the actress Deborah Kerr was one of the actresses in the movies he made in 1953 Young Bess and yesterday at work one of my colleagues, who is so interested in breeding cats, showed me a web site about Norwegian cats from the Lailoken site

                          The kitten he was particularly interested in was called Deborah Kerr
                          I don’t know if this page will stay long as they are for sale, though they are really cute.

                          #755

                          — “Sha! I think I’ve had one of them bloody brainwaves of mine!”

                          — “You are the smart one Glor … ‘ang on, I’ll just light my fag then I can listen proper.”

                          — “Well you know how Vessie has been so good to us and I still feel a bit awful about breaking that bloody door down.”

                          — “We meant well though Glor. Our hearts were in the right places.”

                          — “They were Sha … but then her bloke being there and all …. well that dress she was wearing Sha, it barely covered her privates.”

                          — “She’s a native girl though Glor,” Sharon giggled, “She’d have grown up wearing them little grass skirts and not much else I reckon …. mind she’s ever so nice though ain’t she.”

                          — “Oh she is …. and there’s nowhere to buy clothes on this bloody island neither, she must have to make do, bless ‘er little ‘eart.”

                          — “It could do with a mall I reckon Glor,” said Sharon reflectively, “this place would really take off if there was a small mall.”

                          — “I think you’re onto something there Sha, oh that would be bloody marvellous I reckon, a small mall.”

                          — “Anyway what’s your brainwave then Sha? I’m all agog with curiousness.”

                          — “Well I reckon with all the eating and lying around we’ve been doing I’ve gained a bit…. what do you reckon Sha?”

                          — “You might have done a bit Glor,” said Sharon eyeing her friend thoughtfully, “you can carry a bit extra though, and it goes to all the right places on you, you look right sexy, I reckon our Harry would think so anyway”

                          — “Oh give over Sha! “ Gloria blushed and giggled. “Anyway back to my brainwave … well that Vessie is quite slim … “

                          — “A bit on the skinny side really, Glor, needs a bit of meat on them bones of ‘ers to be what you would call proper sexy like us, and very tall with it ain’t she.”

                          — “Yes athletical, most of them island girls are I reckon. Anyway, listen up Sha, a few of my things ain’t been fitting so well and …and ‘ere’s my master plan Sha …Da da ….” she paused dramatically, “I thought I could hunt out something nice for Vessie!”

                          — “Oh that’s bloody genius Glor! you’ve got a real kind heart you ‘ave! You’re a bloody saint even … did you ‘ave something special in mind?”

                          — “Did I what Sha!” Gloria’s eyes were shining with delight at her own generosity. “You remember that pink frock, the one I wore when you and Harry got ‘itched, with the wee roses on it. Well I bought it with me! I thought you daft fool! when I packed it, what you taking that bloody thing for? … I reckon it was my psychic abilities I got ‘anded down from my Aunty Philly, God rest her soul, made me bring it.”

                          — “Oh you’ve still got that frock! That were bloody gorgeous …. well bless your bloody heart Glor!”

                          — “Well its got sentimentical value of course,” said Glor looking serious. Her voice lowered, “ Between you and me though Sha, I do feel for that poor girl. I mean she’s pretty enough .. but she’s got no bloody idea how to make the best of what she’s got. It’d be a bit on the short side mind …. but I don’t think she’d mind that, not if that last dress is anything to go by, and I’m right handy with the needle and thread if it needs any fixing” she paused for a moment thinking, “Sha! I think I’ve ‘ad another bloody brainwave! We could give her a full beauty makeover, the bloody works, with all our beauty know-how … that lippy she was wearing ..” her voice trailed off and she shook her head sadly.

                          — “Wrong shade of red weren’t it,” Sharon nodded understandingly. “She’s going to have to make a bit more effort if she’s to keep that bloke of hers.”

                          — “Well I’ll ‘ave him any day,” giggled Gloria

                          — “Oh you’re bloody wicked, you are Glor! If your Joe could ‘ear you now! …. ‘ere you’ll ‘ave to fight me for ‘im though! … ere,” she said looking around and lowering her voice conspiratorily, “maybe we could have one of them threesomes!”

                          — “Oh stop Sha, you’re too bloody much you are!” spluttered Gloria, barely able to control her mirth. “Serious now though Sha, that Vessie might be a bit overcome and shy like, with all our generousness and kindheartedness, we have to make sure she knows we ain’t taking NO for a bloody answer!”

                          #750
                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            I take it from that you don’t know where the wedding dress is currently. Well if you do come across it would you mind letting Felicity know. said Tina haughtily, switching the phone off abruptly.

                            Al’s words running through her head she started walking quickly nowhere in particular.

                            Tina, what’s the point of these experiments we have been doing with Becky and Sam if you are going to keep relying on the phone all the time? And why are you trying to sort out the dress for Felicity, it isn’t your problem.

                            It wasn’t the so much the words which had stung, after all he was right, it was the annoyance she thought she had heard in his voice.

                            She felt him making contact, quickly blocked, feeling too hurt to be open.

                            She knew he was tired, god knows he had put so much into the wedding preparations, as he did with all his projects. He was fast building a reputation for his ground breaking experiments with body processes. Tina loved Al whatever he looked like, which was just as well really considering some of the rather bizarre effects he managed to produce.

                            Becky had been a bit irritated with her as well, Tina you are so last decade, nay century even! she would say, rolling her large eyes dramatically. Becky too was racing confidently and exuberantly ahead. Her intriguing contributions to the reality play never failed to amaze Tina. Her own contributions felt stolid, words trapped in a big gluggy ball of last century energy, she had to work hard to extricate each one.

                            It was nearly dark, raining harder now, wind-driven rain. Tina liked it, the rain complemented her mood and disguised the self-pitying tears streaming down her face. There were very few people in the street. Just the long line of shop windows, glass faces warmly lit, overhangs offering some shelter from the rain, though it wasn’t shelter Tina was looking for.

                            Her long hair whipped around her face, wet blue satin clung to her slim frame.

                            Sam had taken off unexpectedly and suddenly to Australia. He had been gone only a few days and she missed him. Dear Sam, his wicked and irrepressible sense of humour could make her laugh even in the blackest of moods. He too was playing with new potentials, forging new and exciting paths.

                            The others are probably all communicating with their advanced telepathic skills right now, laughing at dumb old last century Tina, she thought morosely. In fact even last century I would have been so last century, judging by my spectacular lack of success at anything I have undertaken recently. A vision of her recent humiliation in the ballet dancing class sprang to mind. She winced and quickly blocked the distressing image of the dance teacher drawing her aside after class and gently suggesting she might try the Ancient Kuzhebar Motional Practices beginner’s class, to get some basic rhythm, before attempting the ballet. ….

                            An elderly woman who had disembarked at the nearby gondola stop splashed by her, and, illuminated momentarily by the street lamp, Tina felt a flash of recognition. The woman turned suddenly towards her, smiled, gesticulated with her free hand, the other was clutching a large bag, towards some distant bushes. She mouthed some words at Tina, but these were lost in the wind. Tina waved and managed a reciprocal smile.

                            She noticed a Positivity Robot parked in front of Samantha Lingerie, and found herself drawn towards it, 3D images of models wearing the latest in underwear fashions rotated in the shop’s window, their faces beaming irritatingly at her. These Positivity Robots had been all the rage in the early 2020’s, you did not see as many of them now. On impulse she stood in front of the robot, touched the screen, allowing it to read her energy. “negative 21” its glass face discreetly informed her. The words “I AM PERFECT flashed up on the screen as a suggested thought pattern to implement. Tina grimaced. I wonder how low I can make this damn thing go. The idea made her giggle and to her alarm shot the meter up to a positive 12. Bugger, a bad start!

                            What am I going to do with myself, Mr PR, if you are so positively smart?

                            I AM PERFECT…. I AM PERFECT …. I AM PERFECT ….

                            perfectly grumpy, perfectly insecure, perfectly last decade, perfectly soaked to the skin, Tina watched as the meter climbed all the way up to 55.

                            She glanced at the shop window, just as a smiling model wearing a minuscule open net dress and nun’s habit rotated by. She felt an inexplicable burst of amusement as the meter climbed to 57.

                            #1709

                            In reply to: Synchronicity

                            ÉricÉric
                            Keymaster

                              A small sync that hits me now I re-read it…
                              In Francie’s comment about Elizabeth of the Ooh-dimension a reference is made of the “clooh-box”.

                              Funny thing was that yesterday, we were talking with Tracy of one of the tiles which she felt linked to Francie, with the sense of natural magic it conveys. It reminded me that Jib told me it made him think of a magical girl scepter.
                              During spring in New-Zealand, so that must have been around October, we discussed cherry blossom (or さくら sakura in Japanese) with Francie, and had some syncs with Sakura, who is a “magical girl” with a winged scepter.

                              And, as I explained a bit the concept to Tracy, I told her about the Clow cards (here’s my entry for a sync :yahoo_eyelashes: :yahoo_tongue: ).

                              Tracy found Dash interesting (its form is a blue, fox-like creature with long rabbit ears) —even more as it appears in episode 53 :yahoo_big_grin:

                              #746

                              My God, what the fuck is that?

                              Veranassessee sighed, seeing the two plump lady on top of one another, lying sprawled all fours on the ground, with the door blown out in shards.

                              Untie me Gabriele, so that I can ask for the nurse’s help. she said reluctantly to her partner, seeing with a bit of dolefulness, the effect of their strange erotic games already waning off.

                              — Are you alright ladies?
                              — Oh, I guess so, Vessie, sorry to have interrupted, we thought…
                              — Yes, yes… Veranassessee was feeling oddly detached from the women’s babbled and muddled excuses, and even more detached from her own sloppy appearance.
                              All she could think at the moment was that she seemed fated to marry Mahiliki, and get loads of children on Fukitupi, a doom that hovered on her head like a rapacious magpie over a precious gemstone…
                              Good thing she was so gorgeous she would look great even wearing a potatoes sack. Sure Gabriele had noticed that already…

                              Arch-Agent Gabriele came back, telling her he had called nurse Bellamy on the intercom, and she would be here in a minute.
                              I’ll go to my room dear, we’ll talk later about Barbella. he said casually, a convenient code for “plan B” between them two.
                              Professional as he was, he had also, V’ass noticed, as the women were untangling themselves, made the box and the silky rope very stealthily disappear.

                              Sure, they would have more time in the evening. But now, she noticed she’d been a bit too lax on the security around the new guests. Fine that Dr Bronkelhampton’s recommendations were to have the patients free for the first months of their treatments (after all, the more drastic transformations never occurred before the thirteenth week), but she had to be more careful about them.
                              She could not have them compromise “plan B”.

                              B as Barbella… or rather…
                              B as Bee-hive.

                              :fleuron:

                              — Did you hear like me, Glo?
                              — I think so, Sha
                              — What’s that Barbiella, Glo?
                              — Barbella, Sha, barbella, like barbell… Could be a woman’s name…
                              — Poor Vessie seemed so annoyed by the incident…
                              — Yes Sha, we have to help her somewhat, if we want her to forgive us
                              — Sure, we’ll find something to do, Glo.
                              — Yes… I don’t like that Barbella. Perhaps it’s the man’s…
                              Gabriele
                              — Yes, Sha, Gabriele —does sound Italian, doesn’t it?
                              — I was about to tell you Glo
                              — Perhaps that’s Gabriele’s wife…
                              — Or some kinky sadomasochistic practice we never heard of…
                              — Rhooo, Sha, chuckled Gloria, who was thinking of Veranassessee’s dress and wrists tying games…

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