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  • #813

    I am here to offer you my services in exchange for board and lodging Madame Chesterhope, said Franiel, deciding to tactfully ignore for now her rather odd remark regarding his reality.

    Oh please, call me Phoebe. Phoebe smiled kindly at Franiel. Have you come a long way? Well really, I forget my manners. Sit down and I will prepare you a drink and some food. Then you can tell me your story and what has bought you here.

    And so it was that just a short while later Franiel found himself ensconsed on the settee sipping hot mulled wine from a huge mug. What strange twists and turns life may take, he mused.

    And whether it was the wine that loosened his tongue, or the kindly look in Phoebe’s eyes and the attentive way in which she nodded her old head so wisely, but he found himself telling her the most surprising things, as though she were an old friend he had known and trusted all his life.

    Thus it was that it had soon been agreed that Franiel’s proposal would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

    It is as though you are an angel, laughed Phoebe, sent by God to help me, for it was weighing heavily upon me that there is much that needs doing. Dear Lydia who you met on the path, well what would I do without her, but she is not getting any younger, and Derwent …. her voice trailed off.

    Well you are the second person to call me an angel, for I met Derwent earlier who also mistook me for an angel, but I am afraid I must disappoint you both, for I am a very ordinary mortal.

    Oh I am not the slightest bit disappointed, smiled Phoebe. Here, she said, delving into the top drawer of a huge oak dresser, take these keys. I keep most of the rooms locked, for the place is so big and there is no need for all those rooms. Feel free to have a look around as you will. You will find your room prepared for you on the second floor, third room on the right.

    Franiel was surprised and it must have showed on his face.

    It is the room I keep ready for visitors. She chuckled. Most of the visitors I have here have no need of a place to sleep mind-you.

    These are the others you spoke of earlier? asked Franiel,curious. At that moment though Phoebe’s attention was distracted. She looked towards the window, which was wide open though there was a chill in the late afternoon air.

    Ah! there you are my lovely one! she cried, her face lighting up in delight as a large and colorful parrot flew in the window and landed on her shoulder.

    The bird squawked and cast a steely gaze on Franiel.

    Of course I will introduce you, said Phoebe calmly, Franiel, meet Vincentius.

    #811
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Elioctyl had been trying in vain for years to attract the attention of the museum cleaning lady, Ella Marie Tindale.

      Ella Marie had lived in Alabama all her life, and her parents before her. Some of her ancestors were native to this land, some from the distant shores of Africa. She loved the stories of the old ones, passed down through the generations, stories told at family gatherings and celebrations. Ella Marie had never learned to read, but she remembered all the stories word for word, including her own stories. Ah, her own stories! She kept her own stories to herself, she never forgot the horrified silence when, as a child of five, she had voiced one of her stories at a family gathering. A silence had descended like a pall in the dining room that day.

      She shivered at the memory as she dusted the glass case covering the mummy, and Elioctyl, seizing upon the moment as a possible chance to get Ella Marie’s attention, whispered loudly.

      Ella! It’s me, you silly goose, it’s me, I mean YOU!

      Duster suspended in mid-air, Ella Marie quickly looked around to make sure nobody was watching her. All her life she’d been one step away from the funny-farm; she knew she had to be careful.

      Are you speaking to ME? she asked the mummy, incredulously. She’d spoken to trees before, and heard them reply, but never a mummy.

      Sheesh! exclaimed the mummy, At LAST! Over 3,000 years I’ve been whispering to you, and finally, you heard me.

      Ella Marie looked furtively over her shoulder, and then whispered back: Well, what for? What do you want?

      I want you to get me the fuck out of here, that’s what!

      Ella Marie clamped her work worn hands over her ears. You mind your language! she admonished the mummy. I don’t wonder I wasn’t listening to you all those years, coming out with language like that! Pfft….

      Metaphorically speaking, the mummy raised its eyebrows and sighed.
      :mummy:

      #810

      Quite frankly, Midora didn’t know how and where to look for Badul. She had spent lots of time delving into the labyrinth of chapters that composed the book, at first to no avail.
      Only after some familiarization with the narrative had she come to roughly understand that the two books where rewriting the pages —or even, rewiring them— so that each time she started over, it was like a similar yet different story. Most of the alternate versions did occur within the same kind of environment, or the same dimensions as the previous ones, but there were always all kinds of small hints that made her get a small hunch that it was not quite the same story she had read before that was taking place now.
      She had even become quite good at tracking down these flimsy moments where she found herself wondering what felt “different”, at odds, or simply not quite at the same place. Like in her dreams, these were precious cues telling her to pay attention. More than simple cues, of course some of them where howling at her face that something required her attention. The additions made by her distant relative Dory, or later on by her step-daughter Becky were compelling cases of such occurrences. Asynchronous apparitions of mummies sometimes reminded her of stories told by one of her father and where more generally speaking of symbolic death and regeneration, but when all of these cues where as many portals the details of which she could lose herself in…

      Naasir had told her to find Badul. She knew Badul… Like Midora herself, Badul was a facet of the dreaming dragon who was exploring the many facets of itself in an intricate play, and it felt to her that Badul was stuck somewhere in the process and required some attention. In fact, she remembered that in all the versions of the stories that she had read about, Badul’s history was never ended. Each time, he was on his way to explore the new land he had discovered, and somehow, he just never get there.
      When she was trying to get to the rest of the story, as much as she would search for it, there were only blank pages.
      Perhaps it was for her to write them, like Indy did after she encountered that mummy decades ago, not necessarily to exorcise the experience, but rather to learn more about her connections.

      What were her own connections? She wondered.
      What did happen to Badul on his way to the clandestine traveling portal of Gralm Tur? And why did it matter? Did he found something about the network, and some link to the skulls which have been an obsession for quite some time for some of the major and most intriguing characters of this inter-dimensional sopoohpera?

      Truth was, Badul felt a bit like an oddball to her. She didn’t know how to get close to him. Apparently, when she had read the early articles from her great-uncle Cuthbert, she had found out that he had connected quite well to the daunting character. As a matter of fact, most of his comments had helped flesh out the character, while most of the other participants in the books had been only remotely observing his deeds. However priceless these clues were, Midora knew by now that they were not absolute, and would rewrite differently if the story was asking for it. And in fact, perhaps her own addition would change whatever his fate would have been.

      :fleuron2:

      Midora could feel Badul differently now… a young boy, whom she is babysitting, in another life.
      Bastian is baby Badul’s name and he’s a toddler, a toddler exploring an unknown world made of colourful toys.
      Midora (her name’s Ada in that focus) likes to work for little Bastian’s family. The woman, his mother, looks a bit odd like Morticia Addams, or like a Cher just out of her bed, but Ada likes her. She’s busy traveling alot, and doesn’t have much time to care for the baby.

      Midora thinks she has read about his woman somewhere in the books…
      Could it be that? Yes,… there is little doubt about it.
      It seems like she’s just run into young Carla

      #805

      When Franiel got to the crossroads the path turned abruptly to the left and plunged sharply down, past a crumbling and long-deserted stone cottage, to a little bridge built across a gently flowing river. Beyond the bridge there was a short ascent westwards through a thickly wooded area and then the way opened out rather suddenly. Such a pleasant and restful scene welcomed Franiel that for a moment he felt he may have entered a dream. The air was fragrant, the grass was sprinkled with daffodils and shaded by great chestnut trees. Confronting Franiel, at the south-west corner of the green, was a massive stone lych-gate. Beyond the lynch gate, and almost hidden by trees Franiel could see the roof of Chesterhope Manor.

      :fleuron:

      In the day of judgment God be merciful to Derwent a sinner ……hehehehe. Well good riddance to God’s judgement! Begone God’s judgement! We’ve cheated the parson, we’ll cheat him again, for why should the vicar have one in ten ? Oh what’s this now then walking through the gate? A stranger! hehehehehe…tis one of God’s angels methinks, perhaps come to strike old Derwent down for his heathen ways and blasphemous tongue. Well does old Derwent even know what an angel looks like? and he chuckled in delight at the very idea of it.

      You there! he shouted as Franiel drew close, Are you the angel Gabriel come as a messenger of God’s wrath? Or a wandering stranger come to pass the time of day with me?

      Well neither really, said Franiel, although of the two possibilities I favour the second. I have come to have a word with Madame Chesterhope.

      Madame Chesterhope! Does she still live here then? He lowered his voice reverently. A real angel that one, better than those biblical ones by a long shot. So you want a word in her ear. You will have to find it first of course.

      Should I try the house? asked Franiel politely.

      Try the house? Derwent rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. I tell you what! Try the magic mushrooms first, and when you’ve tried them, try the patience of Saint Derwent. He gave Franiel a kindly pat on the shoulder. Good on you for trying Lad, anyway. I’ll bid you farewell now and if you do find an ear, best keep it, a spare ear can always come in handy.

      #804
      AvatarJib
      Participant

        He was sitting at his desk in his study room. He was alone, reading a report on the emerging clan of the teardrop Island of Tur. Their Elders were apparently beginning to gather some influence upon their kin. The Rule of the Guardians was still prevalent, even though it was now being questioned by these humans. The fear impressed upon their mind for centuries was strong enough to keep them away from the caves leading to the portals, yet from day to day it was diminishing. The Guardians could feel it, but it mattered not, now.

        Sinadron scratched his head with his left hand. He was old by the standard of the Guardians. A few centuries. He was one of the strongest along with 2 of the others. Noraam and Keliom, who were still in their youth, were 2 of the 12 other Gates, the higher honorific among them. Their influence was strong as they were the focal points of the powers of their people in the most powerful rituals.

        Pushing back the report, he took the wooden cookie jar. Once opened, the smell of the Langurdy cinnamon spread all over the space. Intoxicating scent. He was quite fond of this commodity, rare and sophisticate, the cookies were made by humans. Sinadron was thankful to them in the culinary area. The metabolism of the Guardians was quite different from that of the humans, and their preferences in matter of food were also quite different, though they could share some of them, and the Landurdy cinnamon was one.

        He had been so engrossed in his appreciation of the spice that he hadn’t noticed the nudging in his left arm. When he finally realized that someone was trying to contact him he closed the jar and put it back in place, beneath his key. He took his hand capacitor and focused on the kinesthetic movements of the molecules of his arm. It was his preferred method to focus on the caller’s energy. The vibrations were those of Nareena, one of the Gates of the Phréal. She wouldn’t let her energy merge in such intimacy, though she knew his interest.

        Sinadron took a more comfortable position on his rocky chair and directed its energy in such a way that it would adapt to the form of his body consciousness. Slowly reconfiguring so he could relax more fully.

        In a flash all was said. She’d given him an energy ball and he had captured it, using his capacitor to store it up. No more interaction was necessary, and from the surface of the message ball, he knew it was not so important. He would consult it later. Sitting up, he put his still glowing capacitor on his desk and took back his cookie jar while the rocky chair was reconfiguring again to adapt to his new position.

        What a smell… :chomping:

        #802

        Bea stretched and yawned, and threw the bedcovers back. The early morning sun was streaming in the windows, catching the coloured glass bottles and crystals on the windowsill and making rainbow mice scamper over the floor. Horus, the Siamese cat, crouched with tail swishing, ready to pounce.

        Bea sat up and swung her legs out of bed, feeling around with her feet for her slippers; a rainbow mouse crawled up her leg.

        “Ouch! For fuck’s sake, Horus!”

        Horus stared at Bea, unperturbed, and then yowled, asking for breakfast.

        “Come on then Horus, let’s go and put the coffee on, are you hungry? Lovely day again! I wonder if Leonora’s up yet; doubt it! Come on then, hut hut!”

        Bea wasn’t sure why she always said ‘Hut Hut’ to the cat, but Horus seemed to know what she meant, and followed her into the kitchen.

        “Oh, it’s Eggleton painting day today, Horus!” Bea said to the cat, noticing the big basket of eggs on the kitchen table, For the Eggleton Hunt on Thursday.

        Horus yowled and twisted himself through Bea’s legs.

        “Ok Ok!” she replied, and opened a can of BocaBits with Atun. For herself, she made a large mug of black coffee with plenty of sugar, and lit a cigarette.

        With the third lungful of smoke, Bea recalled a strange snatch of dream, and started to sing:

        One man went to mow , went to mow a meadow,
        One man two man and his dog
        Went to mow a meadow……

        “Oh!” Bea said “I wrote something down in the night!” She went to the bedroom to get her dream journal.

        “One man went to mow scattered lettuces.”

        One man went to mow scattered lettuces? HUH? That doesn’t make any sense. I wonder if Leo can work it out, she’s good with clues…

        Leo! LEO! OY, Leo, whaddya make of this here dream snap-phrase then?” Bea barged into Leo’s bedroom and prodded the sleeping bulk.

        “Wha wha whazzat!” Leo woke up with a start. “Bloody ‘ell, Bea! You woke me up! I was having a lovely dream about rabbits, an’ all……”

        One man went to mow scattered lettuces; what do you make of that? “ Bea asked, as she plonked herself down on Leo’s bed with a bounce that made the bed springs squeak.

        Leo frowned, instantly awake now and intrigued with the clue. To Bea she said, “Get me a cup of coffee and a fag, and I’ll google it.”

        :fleuron2:

        Horus, having disinterestedly licked some of the juice off his Bocabits, jumped onto Leo’s lap as she typed the word lettuce into the search window. He jumped onto the desk, knocking a well worn paperback copy of Seth Speaks onto the floor, and on impulse, Leo added the words ‘Horus’ and ‘Seth’.

        Bea, Leo was laughing, Come and look at this .

        #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.

        #1741

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        AvatarJib
        Participant

          Ok, I had some interesting syncs with the 444 stuff and the car… well…

          Going to work this morning I felt a bit oppressed and there was that guy that I had noticed from some time on the other side of the street. When I crossed the street and found myself walking behind him I suddenly noticed that electric blue little thingy on his back bag, very bright and I felt very relaxed after that. I turned my head on my left and noticed a car with the number 144 on its plate, though the 1 was under mud… well I thought of Francie and looked at an ups brown van… the phone number on the car was 0821 233 something… I laughed because of the 21 of course and also of the 233 which is also a signal for me of Eric and Elias… that was syncing with the blue dot and the 44.

          I thought I still missed one 4 to do the complete sync.

          Well I went into the elevator and hit button number 3, because that was where I had to go… work you know :))
          And the guy with the blue dot back bag entered the elevator and hit the button number 4 and turned his head to me and said “Hi” with a BIG SMILE :face-smile-big:

          I smiled back at him and thought, well I just got my 3rd 4 ;))

          ISN’T THAT A COOL SYNC!?

          #1740

          In reply to: Synchronicity

          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            just remembered another one I meant to tell you. I bought a Brita water filter from the supermarket recently, it was quite spontaneous as I just noticed they had one sitting by itself on the shelf. I think this is a synch with one of Eric’s photos. Also the month counter at the top was set to 11 of the 11th or 11 11

            (this is comment 222 btw)

            At the aquarium the other day I was really drawn to these cool, luscious, yellow fish, partly because they seemed to be staring at me … :face-glasses: then i saw that they were named lemon (something, can’t remember the other word- maybe lemon) :fruit_lemon: fish and cost $57. (it was 57 dollars and something cents, but i can’t remember the cents, so that is a synch with not remembering the rest of the fish name :yahoo_oh_go_on: )
            Also this gives me an opportunity to use the new fish and lemon icons .
            :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish:

            #1739

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Yes just reading the link on Full Metal Alchemist, I see many synchs. :yahoo_loser:

              One of the best things for me with the Traveler book was that I am enjoying it … and I have really struggled to find things I enjoy to read lately.

              #1737

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              AvatarJib
              Participant

                The traveler’s book is syncing with the anime movie we watched this evening. Full Metal Alchemist is the story of 2 brothers looking for each other. One is called Edward, and the Other Al(phonse). The are from a parallel world in which they can use Alchemy, and it is during the rise of the nazis time framework… and the nazis want to go to Shambhala which is related to Buddhism…
                Well, even if the movie adapted from a series was quite hard to understand because I didn’t have any reference to their world or the story of the series, it was fun and there was quite an interesting subjective communication :))

                #1736

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  previous comment

                  catching up…

                  After we introduced the Italian Arch-Agent Gabriel to the story, there was a story in our local paper on crime writers with two authors featured.

                  One of these was Quintin Jardine. The section started with the words:

                  “If there are such things as angels” the big detective whispered “that’s what they look like.”

                  The detective who spoke them was an Italian.

                  The other author featured, was French crime writer Fred Vargas, (who is a woman, also a renowned archeologist). I really enjoyed reading what she had to say in the article regarding her philosophy on life and writing.

                  The articles were edited by Finlay McDonald.

                  :fleuron:

                  With some physical health problems which have reared their head the last little while I have also been aware of the number of “angels” in my life, in fact have sort of had a game where I call them angels to myself … the massage angel i met, the cafe angel etc etc etc. Mr X gave me the name of some people who do gardening, as the property was getting out of hand. They went well out of the way, and I was thinking how they were my gardening angels …. later they gave me their business card. Their business name is “Gardening Angels”

                  :fleuron:

                  The book I picked randomly on my trip to Auckland is The Traveller I had not heard of it before but apparently it is a best seller and part one of a trilogy :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

                  There are aspects of it which sort of remind me of our story, travelers who travel between dimensions etc

                  John Twelve Hawks is the author, I think he is a recluse or something, nobody seems to know much about him.

                  website

                  :fleuron2:

                  I love T’s eggs falling from the sky synch .. it felt like abundance and magic :creating_magic:

                  #1733

                  In reply to: Synchronicity

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    A couple of hours ago I googled eggs in the news and found this

                    I was going to post it, couldn’t decide where….

                    #792

                    Elizabeth Tattler gazed at herself in the mirroor and sighed. Of course she was still stunningly bootiful, but since dear Eddie Foosher, her fourth husband, had decided to descend, she had lost the will to really care for herself. Day in and day out she had been focused on her writing, at first to ease the pain and loneliness, however increasingly she was finding real joy in her work. She looked lovingly towards the stoove where she was hardbooling a couple of mongoat oogs in preparation for some more Oogleton exploits.

                    She turned back to the mirroor. I really do have glorioos eyes she reflected, even if still a tad bloodshot. She remembered the one occasion she had met the philosopher Lemone, many years ago now. What was that little loomerick he had written for her?

                    Slowly it came back to her.

                    There was a Young Lady whose eyes,
                    Were unique as to coloor and size;
                    When she opened them wide,
                    Poople all turned aside,
                    And started away in surprise.

                    She smiled at the memory, how she would love to meet Lemone again! She remembered fondly how his air of kindly wisdom had far outshone his rather odd appearance and garish taste in cloothing.

                    #1731

                    In reply to: Synchronicity

                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      <translating Jib’s energy>

                      Ahahah, it’s funny Franci!
                      Today and yesterday, I was in a training session and the guy kept saying stupid jokes and catch-phrases with 53 in them, like it’s the most natural thing to say! He also used a 23 once ;;)

                      And last week-end with Eric, we started to install a server. And to access a distant server, we use a program called PuTTY (pronounced sometimes “pooty”)… And the server kept rebooting on its own, so we ended pouting a bit :D

                      :yahoo_big_hug:

                      </translating Jib’s energy>

                      #1730

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        Two funny number plate interactions this morning on my walk .. my mind drifts all over the place when i am walking, I started thinking about the story and the latest entry from Eric on the Ooh dimension. I looked up and noticed a car going past at that moment .. numberplate POOTY

                        The numberplate thing intrigues me, sometimes they seem so specific to my thoughts and often they seem to reflect interactions happening in the story and with you guys. On my trip to Auckland there were periods I felt this connection strongly, TEENA1, EGG555, numerous 57s, 23’s and 53’s etc …. although again it was the timing and interaction with my thoughts which felt the significant things. Three cafes in a row I was given the number “12”, the fourth I was not given a number but I noticed the lady at the table next to me had the ’12”.

                        The next numberplate which jumped out at me this morning was ALQ823, this was following POOTY

                        :fleuron:

                        While I was away I had found myself in a big book barn with sale books. I had just a few moments and decided on impulse it would be good to have a book. I picked up two books at random and skimmed the back covers. One of the books had main characters Gabriel and Maya. I relate to Maya as being another form of the name May and Gabriel of course being the Arch-Agent introduced on Tikijkoo (sp?) Island recently. All the other books seemed to be reduced to $9.99, this one was reduced to $5 (fun), well i thought i could not go far wrong at that price.

                        some more on this soon … i have to get dinner :chomping:

                        #1950
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          A day or two ago (might have been yesterday) when Eric was telling me something about a dream (which I thought was a story thread haha) I suddenly remembered that I had woken up that morning saying ‘Yurara Fameliki’

                          :yahoo_big_grin:

                          #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.

                            #787
                            EricEric
                            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.

                              #785
                              TracyTracy
                              Participant

                                Are you messing with that Gortex again, Al? Becky asked.

                                Al’s skin was starting to take on a greenish tinge.

                                I read something about Gortex in an old history book yesterday Al, hang on, Becky said as she rummaged through the piles of books on her desk.

                                Here is it: “The first commercial consumer product using GORE-TEX® was a tent called the Light Dimension”

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