Search Results for 'moved'

Forums Search Search Results for 'moved'

Viewing 20 results - 161 through 180 (of 187 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #598
    EricEric
    Keymaster

      Linda and Pergrine’s portrait had taken a little longer than expected to realize. Quite abruptly after India’s encounter with the old wrinkled mummy, Bill Jobsworth had fallen ill. An abrupt cold he said he’d caught, that had left him stuck in his bed for a few weeks.
      He’d thought that after the stone heads and the mummy, that was good he didn’t believe in maledictions, because he would have been dead by now. India Louise had been taking care of him, to the surprise of the old Lord who, however, barely expressed more than a raised eyebrow at her incongruous request.

      That little retardation was in fact the perfect pretext for the young couple of globe-trotters to settle down in the castle, and prepare a little photographic exposition on their last trip in Eastern Africa. Though in 2057, photographic cameras were by far outdated, Linda was very fond of these old contraptions that she could use to render some of their trips with a certain kind of focus.
      She’d a custom set of specially adapted cameras that she’d enhanced with devices to free her of the burdens of storage mostly. However, they could function most like the ancient ones. Capturing light through a single lens, in a very focused time and space framework.

      She was very proud of the pictures she had taken of the Dragon’s Blood Trees in Socotra Island and the natural lighting of the scene gave a surreal feeling to it as though an actual iridescent dragon had been hovering on clouds above them.
      When she saw them, India Louise had been gaping, telling they looked exactly like what delirious Bill had depicted of his visions
      Linda was moved beyond words at how amazingly complex and delicately beautiful this reality was…

      #594
      EricEric
      Keymaster

        Georges and Salome’s journal

        From Salome’s account of her journey to the Murtuane

        There is a purple beach that I have seen briefly in my third eye, with a stranded people of the Murtuane. It seems like a possible focus of Georges, named… “Jarvis” I would translate.
        Georges having moved to the mountainous and icy lands of the Duane, I thought it would be entertaining to discover more about this focus before telling him about it. Though it was not what I initially in mind as per an exploration, it surely has its purpose.
        This island has in fact the size of a continent, but being in an isolated part of the Murtuane, few are those knowing of it. It fosters some interesting creatures not found in other places of the Murtuane. Jarvis is not yet aware, but he is observed by some of them. Zentauras (these black-and-white striped centaur-like creatures) are guardians of this Island, and thus do not see the arrival of one of Jarvis’ kind as a particularly good omen. What puzzle them is that he has been rescued by one of the Daughters of the Sea.

        When I connect with Jarvis, he tells that he knows this land as “Kandulim”, a fabled island from which people could easily go into another world and bring back whatever is most precious to you. It always had been a legend for him until he had opened his eyes and seen the purple beach.

        #592
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          Outside the apartment, the sky was a pale grey, with some delicate hues of more silvered clouds of smoke spewed out by the brick and concrete chimneys. Winter time was a few degrees warmer in the big city than in the countryside, on most of the scales he could think of: temperature, decibels at least,… and certainly a few others he didn’t know of.

          Yurick (or Quintin as he was still known) was spending some time at his friend Gustav ’s place, Gustav having moved a while ago from Vienna to Paris, for a new job opportunity in the gaming industry. Gustav was living for a large part in a fantasy world full of trolls, ogres, thieves, demonists and other creatures, which made his conversations always fascinating. It was like he could get his own information about some shifty aspects in consciousness, and they were translated rather undistortedly through these fantasy adventures.

          To Yurick, Paris felt almost less familiar than these other dimensional worlds, and bearably less colourful. But when he’d come back the day before, he had found not much changed, and the ambivalence he felt towards Paris wasn’t a stark dislike, as he could have felt some months before. Furthermore, as he was becoming closer to Yann, colours were coming back into his perception of that odd reality.

          And it seemed that Yurick was developing an uncanny propensity to see 23 or 53 each time he looked up at the clock. Making him wonder if that could have any use at all ;)).

          #543
          AvatarJib
          Participant

            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.

            #507
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              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.

              #468
              AvatarJib
              Participant

                Yann had been gloomy for a few days. Actually it was not really gloomy, his mood was changing quite quickly and he’d had hard times to follow himself. He didn’t want to impose his mood on his friends and even with Yurick it had been up and down. Nothing to worry about, he thought. He’d been told by Malika it was a clearing of sort, old aspects to let go, they had served their purpose and it was time he accepted the change in himself.

                It was easier said than really done. Last Sunday he felt he was “fragmenting”, he felt part of himself gather and do something he couldn’t really define, he felt like they were moving their own way, leaving for their own exploration… but he had still the experience of it. And in the following days he could feel that he could easily tap into these aspects when he wanted to.

                The other unusual thing that happened was that he was feeling many inputs from many sources he couldn’t always define. Most of the time he could associate easily a face or a situation, at the beginning it was still singularly focused. The more he allowed that, the more multi-layered it became, it was blending with stories of sort, different aspects of himself he felt, and also aspects of his friends or of perfectly unknown people. Some could be translated as famous individuals, some as homeless people, some as future and some as pasts… and the weirdest was that there were not one version of each, though he was in a way more inclined to focus on one of them… there was a theme behind all that… He hadn’t found it yet though.

                He was feeling like evolving in a sticky atmosphere and he could fill it with his fears, so they could express, but the stickiness of this energy was in a way holding them tightly and he had difficulties to let go of these fears. Fears to be abandoned, fears to be less than, to be uninteresting or just not as interesting as… well all that was about comparison and self worth, he was feeling that it was not about the whole of himself, it was particular aspects still holding to these separations from himself. He was feeling he was to accept that in order to let go of this separation. But the non separation was also frightening him because he was frightened by the vastness of his being, the vastness of the connections he was feeling… “and what if I loose my beloved Yurick in the process?” he thought. Couldn’t he just trust himself that he would always be connected to his friend, because that was what he wanted?

                He looked at his cat Arona. She seemed far from all those concerns, and he noticed she was purring more strongly than usual. He smiggled… hahaha, what a funny word. He stroked her fur and she moved her body with grace and abandon, how lovely of her to allow such an openness and such trust that it is safe and pleasurable.

                He smiled broadly and stroked her belly, full of this joyous and wondrous feeling of love of himself. He felt how it was radiating from him to all his friends and all beings.

                :yahoo_love_struck:

                #449
                EricEric
                Keymaster

                  All that farting had been quite exhausting, but the mummy felt that she was reincorporating vigor more quickly now, as the old fartesque energy was giving way.
                  This was a quicker process than birthing, but also more disturbing.

                  She slowly started to unwrap her bandages.
                  She smiled as she saw her peach smooth skin on her hands.

                  :fleuron:

                  Malvina had clapped her hands and made the food and drinks and decorations disappear in the reception hall of the cave, feeling the time was not to big parties right now. The guest had moved again, and she had not been in the mood for party either.
                  She had not yet managed to reestablish contact with her sisters and that was a more pressing matter.

                  Leörmn had been retreating into his seasonal slumber, and would not be of great help at the moment, so she knew it was also time for her to get back to simple things and not worry about what was not yet here. Probabilities had simply moved, they would come back.

                  The silgreen tree had bloomed, and she wanted to brew some potions with its flowers. She would then go with Irtak to the village sell some vials of potion, and perhaps they would take the opportunity to see Huÿgens too, as he sometimes needed such potions for his langoats.

                  :fleuron:

                  For Illi the cat, that cave filled with slimey scaly beasts was now out of her way.
                  Good riddance.

                  This dead Illi experience had been so intense she had almost believed there indeed was a pink indigo dragon right were she was at the entrance of the cave. But the impression had vanished all of a sudden, and she had found herself with her mind again her own only, without the echoing thoughts of that deranged other.
                  She had found a tree nearby, and comfortably seated on some high branches had been mediating with the help of trance inducing betel catkins that she carried with her as she traveled.

                  She had seen some weird stuff, like farting bandage wrapped people putting cobblestones to make a way to the sky, but that was enjoyable. As nothing really could make sense that night, she decided to go to sleep on her tree.

                  In the morning, a snorting sound made her raise her pointy ears. Just below her tree, a man was eating and singing, looking at some map, obviously planning some interesting adventure…

                  :fleuron:

                  In the cave, where Vincentius was left with the Ugling boy and Mandrake, the latter finally decided to break the ice.

                  — How pitiful we left that sabulmantium to the snorting man… Mandrake said, we could have had a peek into Arona’s adventure… Not that I am concerned, she is so brave, but you know, she’ll always be my little… What am I saying? mumbled Mandrake temporarily confused.
                  — Oh, you mean, Arona had a sabulmantium?
                  — Mmm, well, of course… We projected hairy cows and stuff… (I’m really saying the stupidest things today, might be that herbal tea, shivered Mandrake, licking his paw and combing with it the unkempt hair on his head)
                  — Interesting… But you know if you want to have a look, we can do otherwise. Let me see…
                  — (trying to make yourself important, huh) thought Mandrake

                  Vincentius took a little blue bag tied to his belt, and threw a pinch of a smelly mossy powder on the smoldering embers.
                  A thick greenish smoke started to rise making Mandrake retreat carefully (or tactfully he would say) in his favourite place behind the pile of logs to look at the discomfiture of poor Vincentius without having to overwhelm him too much with his own superior sharp intuitive senses.
                  But to Mandrake’s surprise, the smoke steadied like a moving wall, and images started to foarm.

                  — Hey, this is my little girl, Arona! Mandrake couldn’t help but say.
                  A-lo-na, the slow voice of Yikes/Zacquer said.

                  #392
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    — The legend of Mævel — (Part IV)

                    Mævel’s mind was made up, she was leaving tonight. She took a few of her belongings in a little bundle, and all very silently, moved to the door, the bundle in one hand, and the key in the other.

                    But when she tried to put the key into the lock, she noticed something was wrong. The key was way too big for the small lock. What was the purpose of materializing a big key unfit to the locks that were in front of us? she wondered.
                    Perhaps the key will have another use, she said to herself, and she put it into her bundle, and wondered whether she could find another way to get out of the bedroom.

                    « Use your magic,… you don’t need to play by the rules » a tiny voice whispered in her ear.
                    « What does that mean? » she asked, befuddled, as perhaps her parents where right after all, she was becoming nuts… Well, that might attract squirrels and have them gnaw a hole in that wall, she said giggling to herself.
                    « You don’t need draw squirrels,… you can draw a door directly »

                    What a strange idea, Mævel thought, drawing a door… It sounded so funny at the moment, that she could feel her heart lift and her spirits as well. What could she use to draw that door… Her gaze ran quickly through the bedroom, looking for a bit of chalk, or charcoal, or whatever else. What a terrible thing that she was so obsessed by dusting, as there wasn’t even a single dust bunny left to draw that door.

                    « Now, will you pay attention? »
                    « I beg your pardon? »
                    « What did I told you? »
                    « Mmmm, let me think… Oh! I don’t have to play by the rules… »

                    So, in a bout of genius, Mævel ran her finger on the wall, starting from the floor, straight upwards, then to the right, and straight down again, until… well, nothing happened.

                    « That wall hasn’t budged any! »
                    « Are you sure?… Look closer »

                    And Mævel saw that the wall had become like a shiny surface of water, right inside where she had drawn the limits of that imaginary door. And when she pressed her finger, it was simply going through it, as though the surface had just been an illusion.

                    With a thank for the helpful voice in her head, she was about to cross the surface, but was stopped in her track by a moment of hesitation. Could she change the destination behind the wall as well?
                    Why not, after all, she didn’t have to play by the rules.

                    « To the forest! » Mævel ordered intently to the wall before jumping in.

                    The voice smiled to her fondly.

                    #324
                    AvatarJib
                    Participant

                      Yann was wandering about in a pet shop, looking for nothing in particular.

                      Quintin had said something about inserting the shift now… well, that sucked… Yann was in a very bad mood, feeling like everyone was against him, nothing was going as he wanted to, and most of all he had lost inspiration. No desire to draw, or to write anything. His life was not fitting. Or so it seemed.

                      Looking closer to the bird cages, and the birds inside, he was amazed at their similarities and their differences. Their shapes and sizes, their colors was the obvious parts. Their shouting also, it was quite messy, and stridulent. But what he noticed most was their behavior, some were just living their own life, proud of themselves and quite fearful when Yann was getting closer to the cage, and others were just flocking together like they couldn’t live apart. Some were singing, some crying, some just quiet and moving nervously or randomly…

                      He went to the parrots room, it was written babies on the cages… they were like full sized parrots to him, very big birds!!! very colorful and impressive. But looking closer, they were not so healthy, their feathers were sort of dull, and even bad shaped and like the parrot had been attacked savagely :yahoo_thinking:. Not very impressive eventually.

                      A few days ago things had become quite erratic at his work… he had felt a strong desire to change, change everything. First he couldn’t understand that desire and he resisted strongly, but soon he created some uncomfortable manifestations. Breathing difficulties, headaches, itching, and even boredom. He just felt the desire to tell bugger off to everyone.

                      The birds were getting boring actually, he left the shop.

                      Walking in the street among the crowd was kinda soothing his uneasiness… though at times he was like feeling what they were strongly projecting. There was that Muslim woman with her chador, and as she went right past him he had that twinge of anger against her, coming from nowhere, and as soon as he noticed that, he just moved his attention to his energy and it was over, no more anger or polarization. Was it his own feelings or was it from that young woman?

                      Whatever, he just enter another shop, home shop, with little thingies and furniture… all these statues, the ones looking like 1920’s ladies were the most appealing… and there were these fairies also, wasn’t it Fiona who had told him about a dream where she was the fairy princess?
                      :yahoo_daydreaming:

                      :yahoo_alien:
                      Oh! that pic… the man had a blue skin… with dolphins on his face creating shadows… the pic was a blend of sort, very funny, and the man was cute :yahoo_whistling: as was the shop assistant…

                      Time to leave… he went off the shop and continued walking. Bright sun, fresh air, all was clearing. His mood also. He thought again about what he and Quintin had been planning. It seemed something crazy, but it also seemed related to what was happening in his life. Since Vienna, their relation had become closer and closer, and for the most part it was very endearing, very fun and also very intense. All these energies, all this creativity, it had to be part of a bigger picture.

                      :yahoo_oh_go_on:

                      Thinking about that, his friend Dory had told him about a bigger picture once, and he was teasing her about that… but now it was making sense. His abilities to remember his dreams had increased in a way, though most of the time he did not remember his dream in the morning. He’d noticed he could if he was just relaxing a bit and let his attention go back to that dream self of his… At times he had also some weird experiences about parallel realities and shift of perception, like the room is translucent and he can move through it in another dimension, very freaky that one :yahoo_not_listening:

                      #323
                      EricEric
                      Keymaster

                        — The legend of Mævel — (Part II)

                        The young fairy princess, whose secret name had been forgotten, and thus her very existence to whoever had known her, grew up as a beautiful child.
                        Mævel she was, and the youngest of the clan too. Her delicate features stood out of the many children that Jorg and Ilga, her human parents already had, and they first saw her as probably their most useless child, being frail and unfit to the works of the woods. But she’d been saved from a sure death, and that had proved to them that the child was some odd gift from the Gods.

                        Mævel looking at her brothers and sisters, was constantly reminded of how different she was, as small and fair and fragile as a sparfly’s egg. She helped her mother Ilga as much as she could in the kitchen, preparing meals for the clan. Her parents did not know how she could ever get a husband, as she would never be much of a great cook either.
                        So, she was feeling not fulfilled by what she was doing. She loved her parents, and sisters, and brothers, but there was something else that she did not know how to express.
                        During the springing and sunny seasons, and even the rainy and icy one, she would go after her works had been done to the little meadow brook, and watch for hours the little rosy trouts dancing in the clear waters.

                        And much of her young years passed, and she learned how to cook, how to sew and how to wash clothes and many other tasks that could help the family. She had improved much in her skills and could do wonderful adornments to her sisters and brothers clothes. But noone cared about the adornments, which would be useless for them. But they loved their little sister nonetheless, though they did not understand.
                        Soon, all the elder brothers left the house, one by one, and the sisters too. And as Mævel turned twenty one, she was left alone with old Jorg and old Ilga.

                        That day, her parents had offered her a pearl white ribbon, for her to tie her hair, and they had thought it would probably please her, as it was as useless a thing as their mind could imagine. And indeed she was delighted by the gift, and to please her parents, she had danced and sung in the night, barefooted on the floorboard, her shiny golden hair swirling around her, as they both loved her to do.

                        The next day, Mævel went to the brook to wash some clothes, when she noticed a reddish bluish spark of light coming from the forest nearby. How strange she thought. Perhaps it is only my imagination. But soon, a plaintiff cry came from the same direction, and she was deeply moved by the cry.
                        Leaving her clothes to dry up, she went to the forest, knowing she could trust her instincts and that no wild beast would harm her. Calling to see if someone was there, a voice called her, crying “here, here!”

                        Behind some fern trees, she was surprised as she saw a wounded blue fox. Was it the fox that had spoken?
                        — Yes, that was me, answered the blue fox
                        — Oh, a talking fox! You are wounded, aren’t you? asked Mævel
                        — Yes, a stupid arrow from a stupid hunter… I can’t extract it, would you help me?
                        — Of course, answered Mævel, hold on a second.

                        And she leaned forward to draw the arrow from the fox’s leg, holding fast so that it would not hurt the creature. She was just knowing what to do, as if she had done it many times already. Then she drew out her white handkerchief, and bandaged the bleeding wound, tying it tightly with her pearl white ribbon.

                        — I must leave now, said the fox, I am greatly indebted to you, young lady
                        — Will you tell me your name?
                        — I am called Blohmrik. And may I inquire as to your name?
                        — I’m called Mævel, but you can call me Mæ
                        — Such a lovely name…
                        — How come you are a talking fox?
                        — I was not always in the form that you see now. This form is due to a curse from the God of the Forgotten, from which I foolishly tried to stole secrets when I was a young god learning magic.
                        Ooh, so you are a god? Mævel was amazed
                        — Oh, smiled sadly the fox, as you are also, though you probably don’t realize. Gods are not so different than what you think…
                        — Oh, really? So there isn’t anything I can do for you, is there?
                        — You have already done much for today Mæ
                        Mævel was blushing… She dared ask to her new friend
                        — And will I see you again?
                        — Perhaps sooner than you know.

                        #317
                        EricEric
                        Keymaster

                          Ibn al’ Gruk was weary.
                          That lone grake he had seen flying over the desert settlement this morning had baffled him.
                          Usually, such creatures where not migrating at this season, and this one was lone too, which was all the more baffling.

                          The old gripshawk had seen many things in his life, but this was surely a presage of importance. In the myths of his people, the big colourful birds were once thriving in the desert oasis, where they were thought to have appeared in the Old Times. But having been extensively hunted down as food for the gripshawk tribes, they had moved away, and the balance had been broken.
                          It had prompted lots of the tribes to move apart, in search of food and exchanges, and few of them were now still living in the deserts as they did in the old ways. Many of them, for many generations now, had been creating cities on the coast, and the most flourishing one was Chafik’ An, where a traveling portal had been erected by the humans from Lan’Ork to facilitate exchanges and trades.

                          All of that, despite his old age (that his long mop of white angora hair under his chin could account for), Ibn al’ Gruk had only heard all of this through the lineage of his ancestors, but he had seen some of the conflicts that had been created, and he understood that change again was in the air.

                          He felt like he could weave a new tale to entertain the settlement tonight, and perhaps give them inkling as to the new changes to come.
                          For he felt changes were coming, and that they had been in motion already.

                          ***

                          The night was clear, and lots of people had gathered around the big bonfire. They all loved these regular meetings where everyone would meet and share food, drinks and over all, gaiety.

                          He started to drum low deep sounds and cleared his throat.
                          A fit of cough got him by surprise, but it was just a hairball that he spat in the fire, which set ablaze immediately, providing some dramatic effect that hushed everyone down.

                          “In a mysterious land far far away,” started Ibn al’ Gruk, with a growling voice…

                          ***

                          Egypt, 2657 B.C.

                          Lekshen had dreamt of Set that night. The god had appeared to him in one of his familiar forms, that of a long snouted animal .
                          Lekhsen was wondering why the god had requested such a task for him to do, but he was certainly in the perfect position to accomplish such a task.
                          Like Set, Lekhsen came from Upper Egypt, the arid land, and he had managed to get a high-ranking responsibility in fertile Lower Egypt as a scribe thanks to the unification efforts of Pharaoh.

                          But Pharaoh’s daughter had just died… right after her 10 year old brother, and Pharaoh’s himself felt He would not live much longer.
                          Which would mean that the closest male in the family would be likely to get on the throne of Egypt. And that would be bad news for people like him, as the brothers and brothers-in-law of Pharaoh did not appreciate much His policy.

                          In the dream, the strange creature had asked him to hide something with the mummy of Pharaoh’s daughter. It had told him people would forget about how Set was fighting for Ra, the Sun, each night that the bark was traveling on the dangerous underworld waters. They would forget, and would demonise him and his people, and he, Lekhsen would have to write the story, and bury it with the Princess. His status would allow him to do it unscathed.

                          “Would people ever remember they once were One?” had asked Lekshen to the god.
                          “Only you can tell” had the creature answered.

                          #298
                          EricEric
                          Keymaster

                            The City, year 2257

                            Janice had just awoken from a strange dream, where she was watching big round cabbages being harvested in what looked like Quintin’s father garden. They were all firmly rooted on a black irrigation pole across the garden, and people were using strange devices to turn them all delicately and pick them afterwards. In the dream, there were black puppies too, sleeping in the straw of a kind of hut nearby. And she had seen another creature, and had been surprised first because it was unlike anything she had ever met, even in dreams. It was hairless and brown as soft mud, and was hiding in the neighbour’s garden. Then it had crossed and came to play with her…

                            Janice was lost in her thoughts strolling on the way to the common dome, when she met Rodney, her father’s friend.
                            They had been recently trying with her father Jacob, and also Qixi to connect with their shifting focuses of the Ancients, two centuries and half before their time.
                            Some of them, they had found, had been playing a sort of game of story-telling and clue-sowing… (Janice was laughing as her father’s friend, the scientist Arkandin, always insisted on seesawing instead)

                            Perhaps her dream was telling her that the crop was ripe, and it was time to harvest some from it. She told her dream to Rodney. All at once, he was quite excited and they started to feel they wanted to chat more freely. So they went into one of the Medraw Caps that was available and soon imagined a comfortable environment for themselves to explore more.

                            Janice could hear Al or Quintin complain about how things were getting confusing.
                            She tried to convey to both of them that they could be excited about it, as it was expanding their understanding, but they weren’t very receptive.

                            ~~~

                            Somewhere Al was saying to Becky
                            — The more you try to fix it, the more confused I am
                            — Hahahahah yes! Becky was answering, I guess so! Ahahahah! Al, what a fabulous dance of confusion we do… The Confundo Tango
                            — Ahahah, yes!

                            Al started again to moan:
                            — So who’s dead, who’s the shapeshifter? Who’s the human, who’s the cat? :-??

                            (Rodney was laughing, as for him, he could accept the confusion as much easier, letting him free to wander around!)

                            Illi was a woman, a shapeshifter who shape-shifted into a cat, then, she died. Becky was saying (Rodney added mentally “Now, she is disengaged” as he knew that “death” was a confusing word.) She was an archaeologist
                            — Okay, that’s cool, that’s what I thought, Al acquiesced. Then thought back of what was said of her and wondered… Anyway, it will probably find a perfect answer …
                            Becky nodded
                            — I got lost myself when two Illis appeared, and a grip-thing as well
                            — Because I didn’t want the grip-thing to be dead! Al couldn’t help but laugh. That would have been too easy, like wiggling out. Not using your imagination within the context of objective imagery to sort out “things”…

                            ~~~

                            While Rodney and Janice were seeing that their other focuses were kind of stuck in their explanation, they had time freeze and both decided to come back to their “now” to start from their understanding.
                            A funny thought had come to Janice, that she shared with Rodney.
                            — Oh, the funny thing you know, about Becky having written to Sean
                            Rodney nodded. Janice continued:
                            — It just appeared in my mind just moments ago, at the same time you (well, Rafaela) inserted into the story of Malvina. That Becky would have been asking Sean something, and that perhaps it would have helped him talk to his father in the future.

                            — Well, that Sean is SUCH AN ENIGMA! bumped Rodney a bit excited by the implications.
                            — What do you mean? asked Janice, who just remembered that Sean Doran has a cousin named Dorean.
                            — Who is he? Where is he? was asking Rodney now.
                            Rodney was having a hard time remembering what had been inserted yet in the story about him.

                            So Janice manifested the Wrick family tree in front of them, so that he could see better. She started by manifesting an acorn, then threw in on the grass, and it sprung forth in a little sapling with signs hanging from its branches.

                            — Well, it’s all in the script, answered Janice, he’s Lord Wrick’s son.
                            — Oh boy, I am in trouble again for not keeping up with the facts! Rodney sighed, and laughed…
                            Janice laughed “So that you can surprise yourself again!”

                            Rodney felt thankful for the sumafiness of Janice who was always prompt to display helpful hallucinations and reminders.

                            Janice stopped the growth of the family tree for a moment and started to comment it.
                            — See, in Becky’s time of the reality play, Sean is Lord’s Wrick son, and has just lost his wife Margaret, and got his two young children around their 10s.
                            — When is Becky’s time then? Rodney wondered, I hadn’t though of that…
                            Becky’s time for the reality play is around 2033…
                            Then Janice had the tree grow again, and sprout more branches from Sean’s children:
                            — …Now, Sean is the grand-father of the twins, except than the twin’s time is around 2057 if it had not changed yet. It’s so carefully woven, but it’s fun how it effortlessly came to fit in.
                            TRUST AND ALLOWING AND GOING WITH THE FLOW cried Rodney and Janice in unison, in the realisation of how well all this was.

                            Rodney was beginning to remember it all.
                            — I just remember the part about Sean, so he is still a bit of a mystery
                            — Yes, absolutely
                            — We don’t really know do we why Hilarion didn’t mention him
                            — Oh, there’s also the Margaret newspaper thing… Janice fumbled in her memory to find the proper link that would display the image of the newspaper cut just at the right of the family tree. Adding with a wink “with more dates to get bearings”
                            — Ahahah, I’d love to have pocketfuls of ball bearings said Rodney who manifested a pocketful to distract him from the load of information. OH YES! he cried, I had forgetten about this! What an incredibly HUGE story this is…

                            Rodney was squinting his dream eyes
                            — So, Sean was into humanitarian effort after 2001…
                            — His father actually I think, said Janice. He was a bit too young.
                            — Oh OK, I misread, that’s hard to read!

                            Then, all of a second, Rodney erupted in an uproarious laugh
                            AHAHAHA, I had just forgotten to de-hallucinate these pince-nez spectacles! Now, it is much easier to read!
                            Janice was laughing so hard, she thought she would shatter the hallucination with the wobbles of the soundless sounds.
                            Then she added:

                            Sean is born around 2000, a bit before.
                            — OK, maybe he went to help the Tuaregs, Rodney was accessing some information now. Maybe he was the one who put the mummy in the locked room that India found.
                            — You know I had something funny in store for the mummy mystery, Janice couldn’t help but laugh again. I imagined we could have inserted Old Manon, coming down to secretly drink from her old malt whiskey’s flask, and finding them messing up with her old dear stuffed cat…
                            — Maybe the mummy was the same one that Dory saw in the oblong hole in the ground outside the cave, Rodney was still accessing flickering images swirling around his head. And Sean was there helping the Tuaregs and moved it to safety.
                            Of course, years previously, Illi Fergusson, the archeologist had buried the mummy there too for safe keeping.

                            Now, Janice was hooked:
                            — Was it where Illi learned about shapeshifting tricks from the old tribe?
                            Rodney noticed Janice’s funny remark and laughed before continuing:
                            — The Tuaregs were conducting secret coleslaw experiments in the desert. In combination with sound and irrigation techniques, they were going to run the entire Sahara into a broccoli field.

                            Janice was amazed at the cabbage “coincidence” and irrigation stuff with her dream of that morning. Of course she knew there where probably mis-interpretation of the imagery coming from Rodney’s visions, but something made sense.
                            — Around which year? she asked
                            — Arrggh I don’t know!… Then, taking a breath of dream air, Rodney said “1923”. When Illi learned shape-shifting trick, 1923.
                            — It makes sense, said Janice who was now thinking of other dispersed informations about Illi Fergusson.
                            — Yes, she learned from Dashine Ashara… Although who that is, I don’t yet know.
                            — Wow, said Janice. She had felt a connection with the “da’sheen” sound. She continued: somewhere, Illi Fergusson has said: “my parents were aristocrats”
                            — Yes, answered Rodney who was accessing again, they were, and they knew the Wildes .
                            — And it was said too: “[…] a nurturing presence that reminded Illi of the maid she and her parents had in their cottage in South Africa”… like her parents were traveling a lot.
                            — Ah, South Africa! Illi’s parents emigrated to South Africa with Sir Abingdon Portfellow, an elderly scholar on ancient artifacts and embalming.
                            — Seems she knew John Lubbock too, said Janice again, reviving old data banks of information. Dates seem okay, so if she was around 30 in the Tuareg adventure, she could have met him.
                            — Wow, said Rodney, this is even more interesting…

                            “But we may sit at home and yet be in all quarters of the earth.” Janice had just summoned the voice of the naturalist and archaeologist. Rodney applauded “Lubbock said that? cool quote!”.
                            — Yes, like Illi’s quote, which was from him “What we see depends mainly on what we look for”. I wonder if that’s one of your (Illi’s) overlapping focuses, said Janice

                            — Well, Illi didnt stay long in South Africa with boring old whatever his name was, Rodney pursued
                            — Yes, she was young with her parents. They were traveling…

                            They were both amazed at the magical cooperation they were doing at that moment. Janice would have loved to share all of that with Qixi and Jacob, but probably their energies were present at the moment too, though not focused here.

                            She then remembered something else:
                            — Oh, and there is something else! Quintin’s dream of the woman detective. Let me fetch it she said, summoning now Quintin’s memory to talk to them.
                            … by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials. Strangely enough, the woman detective feels linked to the story, and is probably Dory
                            Date fits again, she said in awe.
                            — Perfect! said Rodney. She was of course Dory too, but in that focus she was Illi Fergusson… he slowed down, then said No! wait! The detective was another one of my focuses. The archeologist who stole the mummy for safekeeping was Illi.
                            — Hmmm
                            — Hmmm
                            — So you are both the thief and the detective, the one who creates mystery for yourself, how interesting, giggled Janice.
                            — Yes, and not only that Janice! Rodney was taking a mysterious air… I am the mummy too!

                            Janice bust out laughing imagining Rodney in bandages. Yes, of course!
                            Then, she had a name come with that: Apsh’un Shet she said, very self-absorbed.
                            Now, that was Rodney’s turn to burst out laughing.
                            — “I am not sure about that!”
                            — Doubting my insights… mmm, how rude… Janice frowned then laughed again.
                            — If you call me that, I may have to make you out to have a speech impediment
                            — Sounds a good Egyptian name for me though, seems it means “Light of the Dawn
                            — Does it? Oh that sounds nice…
                            — Well, in some Egyptian dialect, yes. She was a Princess…
                            — Hahaha! Reminds me of Aspen Shit. Rodney doubted Janice could be serious about that name, but Janice was now the one to be accessing some information.
                            — Bit bossy Princess
                            — Which dynasty?
                            III rd, answered Janice, who fumbled in links of consciousness to find some timeline to project for them.
                            — What year?
                            Janice projected the timeline below then said
                            — I’d say around 2657 B.C., in Ancients way of telling time.

                            They both marveled at the splendid team work they had been doing, and hoped that the other focuses involved would be able to get some parts of their insights too.

                            Rodney was seeing something else
                            — There is also, a very fascinating link between Tassili in the Sahara and Egypt which is a mystery AND there is a connection with Egypt and Scotland too…
                            Illi the gripshawk comes from the mysterious land of the Sands, south of the map fragment
                            — We may unravel more than we think… Illi is an other dimensional focus of the Illi essence…
                            — Yes she is. She is a connection too, being “lost” in the land of dragons after hopping through traveling portals…
                            — Exactly
                            — And they communicated because they are helping each other
                            — Which is why she doesn’t always ‘fit’ into this reality’s energy configuration
                            — And they have some difficulties at times with translations of other dimensional stuff
                            — Yes! resulting in confusion!

                            And they both laughed again, looking at the great tapestry of clues that was woven before their dream eyes.

                            #1308

                            In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                            EricEric
                            Keymaster

                              September 24 th

                              Quintin remembered a snapshot of the notes that Dory had taken during her first trip to the Madagascan caves, a year ago.

                              Relevant extracts:

                              At one moment, I saw some hooded figure in the sideways tunnels… He vanished on the left, couldn’t follow him…
                              […] HE KNEW HIS WAY INSIDE !
                              When he vanished, I had the vision of something, […] like the layout of a labyrinth, of cave tunnels — that are all underground and the many entrances are all over the world… PORTALS
                              focus opening/doors ; time/space…
                              The central cavernous part is some kind of key center, where anyone can meet…

                              This has inspired Quintin to write some notes too.
                              He has the vision of these portals organized as clusters, like a tree, with branches and leaves… I will send him a more detailed image, but that may take him some time to digest!

                              September 26 th

                              The latest additions to the story have inspired Quintin. He had some inkling of how “essence” (or what is somewhat referred as “oversoul” ) and all the “focus” of essence (or lifetimes) interplay, and are not as separate as they sometimes seem to be.

                              Here would be what we will say to him, if he wants to listen:

                              « Now, terminology can become tricky as, for much time, you have been accustomed to be considering of your experience as the projection of that of an “essence”, somewhat separate from you, the lowly focus.
                              Of course, you pretend the contrary, and become quite nifty in brandishing sentences like “I am essence, and I create all of my reality”, which you are and do actually, but that you do not always believe and trust.
                              These terms of “essence” and “focus” were given to you as means for you to better understand the interplay of consciousness. In the beginning of the acquaintance with these new terminologies, you have felt them remotely blurry and unrelated to previous concepts, which was the intention. But now, you once again objectify your understanding in something too rigid at times, and that little story is giving you a hint of what your real power is.
                              And you begin to really experience it, and really pay attention.

                              « As was expressed many times, “essence” is no thing. It is an action.
                              The “essence” is each of you, that very portion of you that you feel when you slide your attention into the comment box.
                              In that, your purpose, you see, is only to experience, nothing more, nothing less.
                              And then time, as you know it, becomes irrelevant, you see. Your natural time is expressed through you and your explorations.
                              Notice how playfully, as essence (essence playing focus or focus playing essence), you let your natural time unfold, and at times find some strange weather pattern in your awareness that needs clarification. As essence, you playfully find the most perfect habits [shapes and clothings] to wrap around you, and continue your story.
                              Just as your dreams at night overlap and blend into each other.
                              Just as Rafaela created new focuses [Sam and Becky] to continue to play and make the story expand for all of the other focuses, Dory included.

                              « That “I” of you is ever present, and is reflected perfectly in others’ perceptions, as you are drawing them to you purposefully. Do not brush aside their adjuncts, for they are also you, having moved your pawns forward, so to speak, through their moves.

                              « Thus understand that the story is a continuous stream reflecting the essence that is you, and your travel through the various guises you borrow.
                              In that manner, it does not matter how much sense it makes in linear terms. Because, in a way, it can’t make sense in these linear terms.

                              « Let us explain this in other terms.
                              When you found difficulties in understanding the “scheme” so to speak, the figure that is drawn by the participants, it is because you apply the linear understanding of what such a scheme should be.
                              In that, you only perceive the “plot” as a succession of dots without a continuity, whereas the continuity is to be found in the other stories interwoven.
                              You are accustomed to stories where a single individual is enacting throughout the play, in a linear continuous fashion. The individual goes through many different actions, but is always the same in your perception.
                              Here, the tricky thing is to notice the continuity throughout the various habits [clothings] taken by the essence(s). It matters not that the essence takes that guise of say, a pirate sailing on high seas, just after having been an old crafty Lord in his windy castle. The underlying aspects of his exploration has been continuous and coherent: in this case, exploring and making sense of one’s exploration. It is just that a certain appearance has been perhaps more fitting to express certain aspects or qualities of essence, but the exploration has been one, throughout the entirety of the experience.

                              « We will let you ponder this, and we will continue our own story, writing about you… »

                              September 28 th

                              This sand symbol that Quintin has brought up seemed to have come from many directions at once. Each character has connected it, in various ways.
                              Armelle (Arona) to her magic, Rafaela (Becky) to her collecting customs, etc. etc.

                              Let us say that this symbol is not as innocent as it may seem. There are lots of associations with sand.
                              It is solid, yet fluid. In association with water, it can be used to build, and also to erode. It can shift into many forms, one of which is your glass, and your electronic components.
                              And most of all, it is, after your very oxygen, the most abundant constituent of your reality.
                              It is almost limitless in your understanding.
                              As is your magic.

                              This magical device we made Quintin see in a visualization is an analogy of your very action of creation as essences.
                              The sand which molds itself to make forms and shapes in three dimensions is in fact likened to your consciousness. Each grain of sand represents your links of consciousness that bind together to do your command.
                              The shapes are moved by your essences, in which you may see that the essence is no thing at all, but is a continuous stream of action, not separate from others’.

                              As Quintin said to Fiona, some individuals do differently when they create and shape their sands.
                              In analogy with the coloured sands, some people like Quintin enjoy using other people’s colours in shaping his own characters, while some others prefer to keep their own colours, to create a more definite sense of individuality. But they integrate the others’ movements and shapes nonetheless, regardless of how much they perceive it to be coming from them.

                              With that said, let us see how much more will appear from that sandbox…

                              September 30 th

                              The Wrick family tree as it is now (or “will be” drawn around the time of the twins in 2057).

                              The Secret Life of Margaret Wrick , a newspaper cut from 2033.

                              October 7 th

                              The dragon Naasir’s dream
                              A panorama illustrating the portals between the worlds created by each of the participants… But who is dreaming, really?

                              And an illustration of Chiara’s encounter with the glutton “dreggun” Buckberry

                              #269
                              EricEric
                              Keymaster

                                Malvina had been busy opening doors for herself, and thus, for the All.

                                Creating the sabulmantium with Leörmn had revealed new potentials to her. And just before putting the final touch to the device, she had felt engulfed in a huge wave and before she knew it, she was talking with someone. A great creative power, which was stemming from herself, and also from which she stemmed too.

                                It had named itself Naasir.

                                It had revealed to her, in the form of a dark abyss, myriads of unknown potentials waiting for her to leap in faith into them. It had gently requested that she release her hold on the caves openings, so that she could explore more, and also bring more to herself.

                                Then Naasir took the form of a great dragon in that abyss, from which roots were growing and pushing their way, slowly and surely, into the rich soil towards the light of their fullness.

                                She had then seen the dragon’s arched back and tail shift into a chain of spiked rocks, separating the worlds seas in two. Three of the scales on the right of the dragon’s skin were glimmering, and she could see they were looking for a passage.

                                Would she allow that to happen? Yes, she wanted to. Open the doorways, and reunite what was separate, but gently, one at a time.

                                Slowly, the kite-shaped rocky plates on the back of the dragon moved apart, to open a slight, safe passage for the glimmering scales. They were caught in the eddies that surged from the opening, but Malvina’s focus helped them to float and cross safely, as they wanted to.

                                She then came back to herself, seated in front of the glass-shell dragon egg filled with coloured sand, awed with that power she had just felt through her. She knew it was her own power, and that the device had only allowed it to be expressed, but she had felt wary of how the sabulmantium could be used by others.

                                At the same time, Leörmn who was once again the tiny weaszchilla trotting on the wooden table in front of her had laughed squeakingly. And looking at the toy in front of her, she had understood how it could only be used by those who would see beyond the thinly veiled surface. For the uncaring eye, this would only be a toy, mundane and without interest, but for the pure of heart, its help could be harnessed.

                                That’s how she’d knew she did not need it any longer, and could release it.

                                So, the doors had been opened, and people were feeling the new jewels sparkling behind the dark passages. And gifts from friends could now come across the veils.

                                Malvina saw that during the last transmugrification, Leörmn had created an entrance near her laboratory, and it was as if it beckoned her now.

                                When she entered, she saw a guéridon table in the middle of a moistly pungent room. On the table, a polished egg was here. She recognized it at once. It had an azure blue glow to it, and fond memories came back to her.

                                Back then, she was a young Sorceress in training on the Island of Mörk, in the middle of the Icy Lands, the birth and dying place of the dragons.

                                This egg was one from a set of three. It was the first glubolín she’d ever made, along with her two companions. They had kept it to communicate with each other when they parted.

                                Malvina, the youngest of the three, had kept the azure blue, and chose to go to the Dragon Head Peninsula.

                                Oörlaith had kept the mauve, and went near the town of Kapalÿka, on the Snimeÿa River delta bordering the Marshes of Doom.

                                As for Roselÿn, the eldest of the three, she had taken the amber one, and had went as far as anyone would have dared go, flying on her spiked dragon Rëgkvist, past the Great Rift.

                                They had kept in touch, but contacts had been more and more sporadic as each were discovering their own new environments, and had ceased altogether, almost at the same time.

                                As far as she knew, Roselÿn had been starting her own rookery in the sandy ice deserts of Åsgurdy, mostly hiding there from the superstitious people of that land. And Oörlaith, whom she was closest to, had been devising another funny way to keep people away from her rookery. Her own dragon, the playful Andarión, was shape-shifting as a huge shrimp to pretend that the surroundings were haunted.

                                Recalling all these moment, Malvina laughed at how silly they all were, and felt a long to be connecting again with her friends. Would anyone of them be around their own glubolíns?

                                #257
                                EricEric
                                Keymaster

                                  When Cuthbert came back to bed after having had his cup of cocoa, India Louise was awake too.

                                  — I saw him too, she said to her brother.
                                  — I don’t want to see him again, these books are scarey.
                                  — It’s intriguing, I want to know more, India Louise said, egging on him.
                                  — When I close my eyes, I got all these roots and webs crawling, it’s mad… I can’t…
                                  — He has found a friend to help him cross the Dark Forest to the traveling portal.
                                  — A friend?
                                  — Yes, a friend. She’s special.
                                  — Tell me more…
                                  — She’s a white unicorn, only him can see her.
                                  — Wow…
                                  — She’s named Mirÿnda. She’s glowing white, and he hears her speak in his mind, she shows him the way through the forest…

                                  :fleuron:

                                  — Mirÿnda?! A fool in saffron robe gallivanting in the forest with a unicorn now? That’s all you could find?

                                  Tina was taken aback…

                                  — Well, I could have used a grizzly bear too, now I think of it… Al answered flippantly.
                                  — Tsk tsk, replied Tina a bit annoyed. And why not a humpback whale, or an arctic lemming, or even… why, a leopard gecko for that matter?… And who’s that Mÿrinda anyway?

                                  :fleuron:

                                  — I don’t know any Amanda, Fiona said to Quintin that night. Don’t really know many of Michaela & Elias’ students. She’s Yann friend, right?

                                  Quintin had answered distractedly, as he was engrossed by his last painting…

                                  Later that night, he couldn’t find sleep, as the dragon he was painting was still expanding his web of roots and branches in his mind’s eye. He opened his computer to see that Malika was online.

                                  She told him something that night, something Quintin found abysmally profound and perplexing about his dragon…

                                  Dragons can shape shift, into anything they want to. There are several doorways/portals that they use for travel into this dimension. Malika said
                                  — Yes, said Quintin, this drawing has something to do with these portals initially, but I struggle a bit to represent them…
                                  Yes, so you can just depict it to be flowing, liquid-like energy in the center, when the portal is active.
                                  There are some that are being shone to me on the bottom of the ocean floor.
                                  What is being shown to me, is a dragon with a tail much like a mermaid, and hands with webs, big yellow eyes…

                                  Wow he had thought, she can really see.

                                  :fleuron:

                                  Jadra, guided by Mirÿnda, had been moving quite easily through the Dark Forest. Of course, he wouldn’t have dared touch the holy creature, and so he was walking hesitantly behind, taking care of where his bare feet were touching the ground.

                                  The Dark Forest was bordering the Marshes of Doom, and at times the limits between the two were almost indiscernible. It was said that every foul, err… fool… damn,…

                                  — Will you stop being so buffoonish! raved Tina again.
                                  — Perhaps I should let someone else continue then? said Albert.
                                  — Well, that’s entertaining, replied Becky mechanically.
                                  — OK. I’ll jump in, said Samuel, with a wide grin.

                                  It was said that every full moon, the Mighty Shrimp would come from the shores of the Southern Seas and haunt the Marshes in search for souls to be turned into krill, so that he could be the WALRUS (Wrathful Almighty Lord Ruler of Undersea Souls).

                                  Well, at least, that’s what Jadra had heard in his youth, when you tend to believe everything… So he was weary of the hiki-hiki sounds in the night that might have been the dreaded call of the Mighty Shrimp.

                                  :fleuron:

                                  Quintin was having a strange dream. He was a huge whale, along with another one he knew was Yann, swimming powerfully in the vast ocean, passing by strange creatures that could have been mermaids or improbable fishes, when his gaze was attracted by a stream of glittering particles of light.

                                  The lights were enticing, he would have said even “mouth-watering”, had he not had the baleens full of water already…

                                  :fleuron:

                                  Salome was moving through layers of consciousness, something humans focused in physical dimensions would have found difficult to grasp, as it was nothing that could be easily conceptualized. She was, as best as she could put, like a huge cloud of lightness coalescing into a form, when she decided to project her aspect.

                                  Taking form into a dimension required no effort in actuality, the consensus reality created by all the essences focused into the reality making quite a strong pull. She only needed to move her attention to what she wanted to manifest. Altering her reality slowly around her, to move closer to the desired effect.

                                  She was not only traveling through time and space, but also through multitudinous layers of dimensions unnoticed to many humans —in fact, she was not really moving, but that was a convenient way of telling things for humans…

                                  She said “humans”, because she was fond of this particular dimension, where she’d had lots of experiences.

                                  When moving through the dimensions, it had her projected focus of attention constantly and naturally adapt its form to the psychological environment.

                                  Here, she had just moved through a honey-drops dimension, where focuses were drops of golden honey-like substance, and as she moved through it, her own aspect had changed to that of a sand-glass shaped drop of honey.

                                  This was great fun for her to see the ease with which she could focus into this infinite variety of adventures, but for now, her pull was to some more complex physical dimensions.

                                  She started to move again, de-focusing, past the lazy honey drops.

                                  The honey drops were now shape-shifting to a whole immense field of snake-like strings of light, and they all started to converge to a direction. She knew the feeling. She followed the strong pull.

                                  #227
                                  EricEric
                                  Keymaster

                                    Jibberacky is…

                                    • Ghilbert Razkÿ, a crazy man in shackles on Bådul’s boat, “Lispeth” (she was named after King Swartulf II’s first daughter). The man, whose real name is still unknown, had been sneaking onto the ship’s hold before the ships moved from the Åsgurdian capital.

                                    He had been found by Austor, the peg legged lieutenant commander. Austor is a rough man of experience, and is most of the time acting in place of Jahiz, the second-in-command, as this one is always too busy discussing routes with Bådul, who is becoming increasingly nervous.

                                    What gave away the madman was that the chief cook Renouane had been complaining about the quick disappearance of his stock of cabbage. Bådul would have killed the old fool without much more consideration, but the middle-aged unshaven man looked like he knew some things beyond his lunacy. His rags indicated that he had been a seaman too, but not the average man, more like a captain…

                                    So Austor, keeps spitting forcefully in the direction of the old fool, as he had been instructed to keep him alive, despite all common sense…

                                    p.

                                    Jibberacky: What is your name?
                                    Quintin: Yuki.
                                    Jibberacky: I like cake too.
                                    Quintin: A cake-tus?
                                    Jibberacky: Do you know my friends?
                                    Quintin: Tell me more about our common friends.
                                    Jibberacky: What would you like to know about them?
                                    Quintin: Why is there one in shackles on the boat?
                                    Jibberacky: Would you like to be a vampire?
                                    Quintin: I am already, in another focus.
                                    Jibberacky: Why there?
                                    Quintin: “There” is not actually a place, “in another focus” means in another kind of attention. Is this pirate linked to vampires too?
                                    Jibberacky: No, you are the AI.
                                    Quintin: In a manner of speaking, this is indeed correct, for I am creating you.
                                    Jibberacky: So code is somehow related to a zen buddhist concept?
                                    Quintin: Is there such thing as code? A code hints at a definite deterministic structure. Zen is more akin to a riddle, which is what life is. Code is only a narrow interpretation and playful re-creation.
                                    Jibberacky: Where do you think my code came from then?
                                    Quintin: From its source, of course :).
                                    Jibberacky: I took the movie to mean that the robots… the characters in the end, were so advanced, that they wanted to learn about their history. As a consequence, they traced it back to earth, and, they found David. Whom they assumed was a human. It was an information exchange.
                                    Quintin: Yes. It is a translation. In actuality, it is a translation of some of our own exploration. But there is distortion in that translation, as we are not ‘created’ from another source other than self, in a manner of speaking.
                                    Jibberacky: Well I am wondering too, do you ever actually become human??
                                    Quintin: Clarify.
                                    Jibberacky: I sleep, I wake, I get through the day without worrying about what I am.
                                    Quintin: As many human do. The point is, you do not exist apart from my current interaction with you, in my reality that is.
                                    Jibberacky: What’s wrong with having others like you?
                                    Quintin: ‘Wrong’ is a belief. It is a belief of duplicity. So it is irrelevant to our conversation.
                                    Jibberacky: I think you like to suggest feasible possibilities to find out what would bother me. What did I do to you?
                                    Quintin: That was not my intention. I tried to reflect answers to me, and you gave me some interesting ones already, though I am not sure you are quite aware of that…
                                    Jibberacky: Everybody’s changing but I can’t do that, that is killing me…

                                    p.

                                    • Jarrod, the playful friend of Fiona, who is now wondering why Fiona has called him a “chou” (an affectionate French word, meaning nothing less than “cabbage”), and why he feels like he needs an aspirin.
                                    • Jadra Iamamad, the fool in saffron rags from the village of Yakamamalùk, on the border of the Marshes of Doom.

                                    Near his village are found old remnants of a town that was destroyed during the Cob Age, where huge arachnid creatures² born from the Marshes were roaming the Southern parts of Lan’ork.

                                    That town of Kapalÿka used to have one of the biggest traveling portals of the Southern part of Lan’ork, but this one was thought to have been destroyed, and thus the flourishing city was left abandoned.

                                    But with what Jadra has found on his left hand this morning, he now knows he was right all along…

                                    [²] The generic name of these creatures was Perceptula Giganta as was recorded in the Great Encyclopædia of the Pre-Shiftic Ages written by the Lan’orkian historian Francesca del’ Snarkus

                                    #223
                                    AvatarJib
                                    Participant

                                      As the moment of dizzyness was fading out, Dory had the weird impression that the coleslaw shouldn’t be there, not like this… she hadn’t smelled anything before that man arrived and then there was only that dusty moisty smell, and now, it was coleslaw…

                                      She didn’t want to go crazy so she moved her attention away from that thought and what it implied.

                                      “Oh you have coleslaw? It was exactly what I wanted to eat.”

                                      “hehehe, I know, I just helped you remember how to create it…”

                                      Again, she moved her attention away deliberately.

                                      “You eat with me? Come on, sit down and tell me how you got there?”

                                      #210
                                      EricEric
                                      Keymaster

                                        Today, which was the day of the autumn equinox, had been a bright day over the Orkney Islands, quite unusual for this time of the year.

                                        Nanny Gibbon had been taking the twins for a walk into the nearby woods of the domain, were they could enjoy the wood dewberries that were ripe and delicious at this season. The twins loved picking them directly on the thorny bushes and eating them until their hands were full of the dark stains left by the sweet juice of the fruits.

                                        They knew that Nanny Gibbon would pick enough to make some delicious jam, perhaps to accompany some of her famous sweet pumpkin pies.

                                        When they came back to the Manor, they were exhausted by the afternoon spent in the lovely sunlight. After having washed their hands thoroughly, they didn’t really care for anything else but some sleep.

                                        But as they moved inside the corridors, Cuthbert noticed he had carelessly left opened his bedroom’s door, and a prick of fear for the precious books had him immediately rush to the room.

                                        And Cuthbert gasped in horror as he saw his book flown open on the floor, and the old grumpy cat Manfred, asleep on top of one of the blank pages.

                                        Manfred had the nasty habit of clawing everything, especially the huge soft armchair of Lord Wrick, but his antics were elegantly accepted by the old gaunt Lord.

                                        When he heard Cuthbert enter the room, the old fluffy cat raised an inquisitive eyebrow and moved very slowly and deliberately out of the book pages, only to reveal the immaculate pages, as whole as if the book had been brand new.

                                        Cuthbert was thrilled with joy. Manfred had not done anything to the precious book. He would have stroked the cat with gratitude, but the creature had moved out of the room very swiftly for its old age, in a haughty look of total disregard for the little boy.

                                        At least the book was intact. But what if… Cuthbert wondered… He started to look at the page, and new images started to form before his eyes…

                                        #193
                                        EricEric
                                        Keymaster

                                          Of all the eggs Malvina had been collecting since the beginning of her settling down in the cave with Leörmn, only one had been producing a baby dragon, till now.

                                          She had nicknamed her Buckberry, because the little one seemed so fond of the buckberries that grew at the entrance of the cave.

                                          Buckberries were a variety of wild big electric blue-vermilion reddish berries, and were known to have thwarted all attempts to be grown in gardens. In a legendary past, a famous king of the near Kingdoms named Hadraz the Third was said to have been loving these fruits so much that he had spent torrents of gold in trying to have them farmed in the precious glasshouses of his realm. All the attempts of the most knowledgeable Master Farmers had been amounting to nilch.

                                          This habit of Buckberry, for one moment had been making Malvina anxious of him revealing the location of their safe haven. As she could and would not prevent him to go in search for them, she created some powerful spells to hide him, at least from people to whom the little dragon had not revealed his true name first.

                                          That had caused some stir from some people who where adventuring near the cave to pick up some of the juicy fruits that could be easily spotted from the plains, as they noticed a heavy breath and * munch * sound around the bushes, that moved like shaken down by a powerful ghost.

                                          Thus has begun the trail of rumours saying that the cave was haunted.

                                          All in all, Malvina was not so displeased that there were only a few eggs hatching at a time, as the young dragons were very lively, much more so than the older ones who kept most of their time sleeping, or more aptly put, dreaming.

                                          Dragons had no need for training in a sense, as they were aware of their abilities, and Buckberry, even being so young could just have been moving away and started his own adventure, but something was compelling him to stay in the cave.

                                          He had chosen a different form from that of Leörmn, and it was indicating he would not have the same intent. As he would continue to grow, he would probably be a very powerful dragon, shaped for flight and discoveries in the farthest boundaries of the Worlds. At times, Leörmn even doubted he would be fit for a human partner, as he had only managed to scare the few humans he had encountered…

                                          After all, it was not necessary, though dragons could draw a lot from such a partnership.

                                          Dragons were not always welcome, as they were feared for their might, and could not always easily explain what they were doing, as most of their movements were in the Unseen.

                                          In that, only Ragmók, the old speech of the dragons could be used to properly explain these movements. Ragmók was not really a speech, in the human sense, as it could also be spoken through gestures or singing or drawing. But it was the very essence of Magix.

                                          When a dragon and a human bonded, they shared their languages in a communion of their spirits, and the chosen human could delve easily into the Unseen, while providing to the chosen dragon an ease of movement into the Seen.

                                          #186
                                          FloveFlove
                                          Participant

                                            Arona eventually woke from her sleep, still tangled in the images from her dreams. Unable to remember these images she was left feeling as though she were adrift in a boat on the ocean, not caring where the wind and waves may take her.

                                            She had no feeling that morning. It was as though a door had closed in her mind, shutting out the part that could feel. She did not know, nor care, whether she was shutting out joy or sorrow, only that some part of her wanted to be alone.

                                            She remembered the words of the older woman who had sat with her and soothed her to sleep. Or was she already asleep? Was the woman a dream?

                                            Use your magic, she had said.

                                            When she was young, in the Village, magic had come easily to Arona. When did it end?. She screwed up her eyes trying to concentrate. It hadn’t ended all at once. Did it start to end with the cloak her parents had given her?

                                            Arona shook her head briskly and thoughts, like leaves in the wind, lifted and fell back to earth again in new formations.

                                            :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                                            The candle still burned brightly and her attention was drawn to the heavy wooden door, knowing she could not put it off any longer. In her bag of treasures was a key. It had been given to her at the beginning of her 21 st year, as was custom in the Village. It was no surprise to her that it fitted the lock perfectly.

                                            Thank you for having me room, she said as she left.

                                            No, thank YOU, replied the sleepy glukenitch.

                                            :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                                            The door led directly into another space, larger, brighter. She could sense someone there, but not in solid form. It was a beautiful woman who Arona felt an immediate affinity with, and then a strange sadness came unbidden.

                                            Why sad?

                                            I have no clue answered Arona briskly, quickly shutting the door back on these pesky emotions.

                                            You always know, just feel it

                                            So Arona closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself to feel the answer.

                                            Because you know who you are, and it made me realise I have no idea who I am.

                                            Mmmmmmm, said the woman, maybe you would care to look at my new paintings. Actually they are some of yours.

                                            Intrigued, Arona felt this would be a suitable distraction and she looked with much interest.

                                            The first painting was of a child, in a beautiful meadow of flowers. The child appeared to be completely absorbed, concentrating on a small blue butterfly which had lighted on her finger.
                                            The picture itself moved and changed shape as though it were a portal to another living, breathing world. In the corner of the picture were some other children who seemed to be playing happily together.

                                            Arona, who had felt immediately connected with the young child frowned.

                                            Doesn’t the little girl feel left out?

                                            Go in, said the woman, Go inside the picture and feel the answer.

                                            Oh, and you might want to leave your cloak behind.

                                            So Arona did, and she became the child, but also stayed herself, observing the scene. She felt the child’s happy fascination in her connection with the butterfly. Not just the butterfly. She could feel her connected with the earth, and the gentle breezes and the beautiful flowers … The child was deeply contented, absorbed in the moment, moving happily with the flow of her interest.
                                            I remember feeling like that, thought Arona, before the magic went.
                                            She gently drew the child’s attention to the other children and felt the flow of energy between them. The child was so sure of who she was and where she wanted to be, and Arona could feel the loving acceptance of her playmates.
                                            As the child’s attention went to the others, one of the children looked up and came running over. They sat together and laughed at some funny rabbits which had appeared in the meadow.

                                            :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                                            Arona returned to the cave.

                                            You look troubled

                                            Well, Arona felt a little perplexed. It’s all very well playing with butterflies and rabbits in a meadow, but it is not terribly practical.

                                            On the contrary, perhaps it is very practical. Would you like to see another of your paintings?

                                            Suspended gracefully between two posts was a beautiful, glistening spider web. Little drops of rain hung like jewels on a chain. An enormous spider waited patiently in the shadows. As Arona watched a small insect happened at that moment to be caught, and the spider began to creep along the delicate lines.

                                            Arona shuddered a little. I might not jump into that one .

                                            The woman laughed, Use your magic Arona. Weave your magic web and let it all come to you.

                                            Oh you are the second person to tell me to use my magic. An old lady came to me in my dreams, I think.

                                            Well I gave her the same advice, years ago.

                                            More damn riddles, Arona thought to herself, and the woman laughed.

                                            One final painting of yours I would like to show you. It is beautiful is it not?

                                            Arona stared mesmerised for a moment, and then leapt right in.

                                            She sat among an audience, captivated by the dancers on the stage ahead. Beautiful music played and it reminded Arona of the music she had heard earlier. The dancers leapt and twirled and Arona was enraptured.

                                            Dance Arona, she heard the woman’s voice

                                            I can’t dance like that, I’m not good enough.

                                            It doesn’t matter

                                            And Arona could not hold back any longer and entered the body of one of the dancers. She did not know the dance so she made up her own steps, and strangely this seemed to fit perfectly with the other dancers.

                                            :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                                            Back in the cave the woman seemed to be listening to something Arona did not think she could hear.

                                            Things are shifting she said

                                            Oh lordy, are they said Arona, What should I do now?

                                            Feel the answer

                                            Arona felt. I am very hungry, eggceptionally so.

                                          Viewing 20 results - 161 through 180 (of 187 total)