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  • #3401

    The tunnel went on forever, forcing them to duck frequently and wriggle around in exiguous places. To make it worse, it wasn’t even fresh under, and the heat carried on as they went further inside. At times, Arona started to have anxiety flashes, as she was reminded of the labyrinthine tunnels of the dragons of old.

    To give herself more heart, she put her efforts in continuing exchanging niceties and other manners of rude elaborate insults with the stranger, who surprisingly was a match to boot.

    “Stop glumping, we’re almost there” he said to her, showing a final passage on a narrow ledge above crystal clear waters.

    She was too exhausted to retort something witty, but took a mental note that he deserved one more of what she had.

    When they emerged, the sun was almost set. The tunnel came out right at the rim of the floating land, and a tight network of ropeways were stretched under the tangled tentacles of the giant beanstalk, which kept the whole city and its neighbourhood afloat. More gymnastics in perspective she thought, but she was prepared for that.

    “Don’t go too close, you’ll fall to your doom…” It was the first time the stranger’s voice hinted at some fear.

    Arona smiled as elegantly as she could, despite being out of breath and red as a purpato. Lifting a limp Mandrake from the ground, she suddenly unwrapped her heavy cloak and lunged into the void below, the wind blowing in her strange mouldy wings.

    “Follow me if you dare!” she shouted to the stranger, while struggling to navigate the downward spiral like an oversized flying squirrel.

    #3393

    Arona knew she was being followed even before Mandrake started to psst her about the dark haired cloaked stranger.

    She took a quick turn right (less perilous than left), and quickly grabbed the stranger by the throat when he came through, readying herself to punch him in the throat in a snazzy move she’d learnt from an old racoon-fu master.

    “Who are you, why are you following me, creep?” She felt a rush of rudeness washing over her in a delicious arousing way.
    The stranger had a cocky smile and a nicely trimmed pointy beard, and a set of gorgeous eyes of different colours. The right one was blue, and the left one green. His face had a golden tan, and she could feel his body was strong and lean.
    Get a grip, Arona she exhorted herself mentally, sending the telepathic equivalent of a cold glare at Mandrake’s soft tittering.

    “Well, you looked like one in search of an adventure, and I want one too. I need a guide from out of the city walls.”
    “What about a magus, that would be an obvious choice, and a sure one?” she retorted, smelling something not entirely honest from him.
    “I don’t trust the magi… And I don’t want people to….”

    “Don’t care” she interrupted rudely, leaving him hanging there, quite sure he was not here to rob her of her bises. The rest wasn’t her concern, she was on a mission.

    “Just don’t follow me, or you’ll regret it.” she said before hurrying Mandrake in the sunny alleys leading to the walls of the city.

    #3371

    Less than a month had passed since Arona had arrived at Karmalott, hoping for a nice vacation time. Apparently, it wasn’t that long before her reputation for lost causes and recovering lost precious item preceded her.

    With the kids all grown up, and her on and off relationship with Vicentius, she clearly wanted to get some focus back into her life, and she had to agree a quest would do her good. There was nothing like putting back to work all her finest skills she’d honed along many years of practice.

    “This mission is cra-zy” Mandrake objected.
    “Of course it is, that is why you want to come along.”
    “True enough, the heat isn’t doing any good, the mice are smaller and smaller and I’m growing fat and balding.”
    Arona laughed, Mandrake wasn’t near as bad as he said, but to be true, was getting greyer than he used to.

    “Any idea who…”
    “Shht” she urged, rolling her eyes in that subtle way that meant “telepathy only”.

    Any idea who might be after that girl. And who is she anyway?
    Some royalty maybe… We’ll surely find out when we get to her. Eyes on the bounty, Mandrake, eyes on the bounty.
    The cat sighed That castle is creepy, and I say that not in a nice way…
    Yep, this place is funny strange, haven’t quite figured out why, but something feels odd and off. Get people to believe stuff so you can get what you want for everyone seems nice at first, but it doesn’t look like everyone get what they want, even with their petition system. I’m pretty sure it’s rigged and controlled by the P’hope and his magi to protect their Order.
    And what about the King?
    Now the King, he doesn’t seem in control of anything, but he doesn’t look like just an unwilling puppet… He’s afraid of something.
    So, were do we start then?
    As always my dear Mandrake, as always she said mentally, showing the carefully wrapped sabulmantium.

    #3353

    “Shall I call you Fanny instead then, dear? It seems to be stuck in my head now to call you Fanella (which I do think sounds much nicer actually) but I think I can manage to remember Fanny,” suggested Lisa.
    “Call me what you like, I won’t be here much longer” replied Fanella under her breath.
    “What was that you said?”
    “Coffee, Lisa, would you like a refill?”
    Lisa’s reply was interrupted by an exclamation from Sanso, and they both turned their attention to him.
    “Here it is!” he was saying. “Look! The island!” He pointed to an area of map collage on the mannequins left buttock, and stroked it gently while explaining. “It’s named Abalone ~ by some of its inhabitants, not by everyone, but more on that later. The fascinating thing about it is it’s mysterious properties ~ and I don’t mean real estate, although there are some VERY peculiar properties on the island! But properties that allow it to appear on the Earth only at certain times and places.”
    “Times such as 2121?” asked Fanella.
    “Yes indeed, and also times such as years 111, 222, 333 ~ in fact any number that has a particular significance really, it’s a very loose arrangement really, you know what some people are like about numbers, make up all kinds of nonsense about special numbers, but it serves a purpose as a sort of guideline, I suppose.”
    “You don’t need to tell me all that, Sanso. I’ve already read the book.”
    “Circle of Eights and Other Stories? Ahahahaha! But the stories in that book are forever changing, Lisa. You may have read the book but every time you read it, it’s different. You don’t know everything there is to know about that island just because you read one version of the book at one time!”
    “I didn’t say I knew EVERY thing, SansoLisa replied huffily.
    “That’s where we’re going next” Fanella interjected. “Sanso is taking me.”
    “Really? How exciting!” Lisa’s eyes lit up. “What a trip! I’ve been thinking about a holiday ever since we got back from Portugal. Hey, can I come too?”
    Sanso stole a glance at Fanella, who shrugged helplessly. He winked at her and whispered “trust me”.
    To Lisa he said “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. Is there anyone you’d like to bring with you?”
    “Why yes, there is, how funny you should ask. I’ll ask Mirabelle if she wants to come.”
    Fanella rolled her eyes.

    #3335

    Exhaustion got Lisa some sleep. She was in a black mood after the disappearance of Fanella who all of a sudden seemed to have become her preferred of the three girls, much to Mirabelle’s chagrin.

    As usual, the mood seemed to make things worse, and when Igor had tried to project to gather clues, it landed him in a nest of bees on the orange tree orchard over the fence, and it kept them busy for a while to remove the stings and soothe the poor guy in sea water cold baths poured in the stone coffin re-purposed into a nice bathtub.

    It had been a few sleepless nights, and Lisa managed to keep up thanks to coffee and nicotine patches. And cigarettes of course, which she’d tried to stop, hence the patches, but got confused, started again, and figured that a boost of nicotine gave her wings.

    The second night in a row without sleep, she was a wreck, and Jack put her in her bed, struggling a bit in the beginning but finally giving in.

    She woke up with the morning light, strangely refreshed and serene. She was pouring her morning coffee when she remembered the dream. Fanella was in it, and she was fine! She jumped off the table in her frivolous night garments to rush and tell the news to the others before she could forget it.

    #3334

    “Hence the importance of complimenting a child on his first poops” were the concluding words of the lecture by Choanna Doyle, PhD, under a loud burst of applause.

    Sadie was pleased to have joined the Happiness Institute alumni’s yearly conference and was handling leaflets to the parents who were thinking about enrolling their children.

    When everyone had left the blue and purple amphitheatre, decorated with pink ribbons and heart-shaped reflective balloons, she went back behind the pulpit to gather her bag, only to be startled by Choanna, who was still here while she was expected in the main hall for her book signing.

    “Interesting lecture” Sadie said, as a way to sound polite, as the doctor was probably more used to, and expecting over the top fan reactions.

    “Oh, not that interesting, but thank you for your polite protestations of interest” she said with a soft smile.

    Sadie couldn’t help but blush, being at a loss for words.

    “The crap…” Choanna said
    “What?!” Sadie was confused
    “I guess, that’s the crap that got you off. It does the same for most people. The poop comment is actually quite pertinent.”
    “I don’t doubt that.” Sadie didn’t know what to say, but was sure she wasn’t too keen on more poop conversation. When she’d came back to her apartment after being absent for more than a week in linear time during her network assignment, her pet rabbit had playfully hidden bits everywhere and it had taken her days to get rid ot them, and of the smell.

    But Choanna chose to ignore the cue, and continued “you have to acknowledge this is serious business for the children, it’s their first real creation. This is an important development step for the future adult.”
    Sadie nodded politely, dying to roll her eyes, but sending waves of hearts instead, to cancel out any potential poop jinx.
    “Later, you see, it also will help the adult to not throw in the towel at the first failure. Huhu, I like to quote this analogy, it’s like a sculptor who would throw a lump of clay on the ground and immediately complain that it didn’t turn out well at the first try…”

    Sadie wanted to leave, and butted in a timid “Sorry, but…”

    “Exactly. People are always sorry, but you see, I did something very interesting today. I have decided to only speak of it if it synched with the events of the day, and you provided me with the synch when I saw you flinch at the bottled water earlier during my presentation. Did you know that blind tests of the best tasting water consistently ranked tap water the tastiest ? Now, sewers and poop now seem relevant all of a sudden…”

    “I’m getting late for my signing, that was nice talking to you!” she concluded mysteriously before leaving in a huff “But think about it!”

    What a bizarre yet endearingly odd mad woman this one, bless her heart… was all Sadie could think after the dust had settled in her wake. And that blessed tart conveniently forgot to mention that interesting thing of hers…

    #3315
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Some character development, obviously not quite canon material…

      The Arousing Scarf
      – a short story

      by Ewkmon

      Sadie Merrie had always hated derelict Birmingham with its zesty, zealous zoos. It was a place where she felt snappy.

      She was a mysterious, freakish, algae smoothie drinker with ginger arms and supple hair. Her friends saw her as a successful, sad saint. Once, she had even helped a clear batty old crone recover from a flying accident. That’s the sort of woman he was.

      Sadie walked over to the window and reflected on her dusty surroundings. The storm teased like rampaging rabbits.

      Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Sadie’s sister Moanie. Sadie’s sister was an awkward succubus with funny arms and impressive hair.

      Sadie gulped. She was not prepared for Sadie’s sister.

      As Sadie stepped outside and Sadie’s sister came closer, she could see the mysterious glint in her eye.

      “I am here because I want revenge,” Sadie’s sister bellowed, in a glamourous tone. She slammed her fist against Sadie’s chest, with the force of 3750 grumpy cats. “I frigging love you, Sadie Merrie.”

      Sadie looked back, even more mad and still fingering the arousing scarf. “Sadie’s sister, I love you,” she replied.

      They looked at each other with cheery feelings, like two talented, thankful twin piggies drinking at a very generous funeral, which had jazz music playing in the background and two slim uncles flying to the beat.

      Suddenly, Sadie’s sister lunged forward and tried to punch Sadie in the face. Quickly, Sadie grabbed the arousing scarf and brought it down on Sadie’s sister’s skull.

      Sadie’s sister’s funny arms trembled and her impressive hair wobbled. She looked vindicative, her body raw like a breakable, blue-eyed broom.

      Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Sadie’s sister Moanie was dead.

      Sadie Merrie went back inside and made herself a nice drink of algae smoothie.

      THE END

      #3265

      “Yes, I could be able to plot a new course, without doubt, even with that tile missing” Belen said to one of the dolphins of the neighbourhood who had come for an update on the stranded ghost galleon.

      I was weeks of Simultaneous Time, and being stranded was particularly difficult for a Conscious Breather such as Belen, even if the ghost whale now didn’t really need to breathe, the force of habit was strong.

      Peter, his usual jovial self had said nothing, and had merely enjoyed some forays inland, looking for the tile and the conch, occasionally bringing news from the strange neighbours of the nearby village.

      In the end, Belen couldn’t really remember who was who in the strange tales he made of it, there were so many humans involved and truly, their earthly concerns weren’t relevant to hers, and there was only little they could do to help with the situation.

      The Harmonium Convergence was about to start, the crystalline aquatic organs would start to play the tunes for the new dreams of the new era to be sung.
      And yet, the so-called magical conch was still missing. Belen dreaded coming back ashamed to the Youngers without the ancient divination tool. Frankly, it was more of a permission slip, as her orca friend Batshatsassani called it. She would say to her that “every modality, every ritual, every tool, every technique is a permission slip that allows yourself to give you permission to be more of who you are.”
      She knew she didn’t need it really, but she liked the rituals of old, and to be honest was a bit fearful of not only revealing they were not that important, but more, introducing new ones… Would the whale and whole cetacean family be ready for such an end to the religious era?

      While she was struggling with the thoughts, she managed to guard them from the psychic prying of her dolphin friend, by misleading him on meanders of the endless memory halls that she was guardian of.

      Peter suddenly appeared with a popping sound. “I think I found the conch!” he exclaimed with glee in his eyes. “Yes, it’s Igor, you know Igor…”
      “What about Igor, darling, you know I lost complete track of all these landers strange names”
      “He’s the guy who stole the…” Peter stopped realizing this wasn’t really a question about Igor. “The conch, he brought it back with him!”

      Then to his and her own surprise, Belen replied
      “Forget about the conch, darling, I’m sorry I’ve led you to believe it was important, but it’s not, not really. It’s just a ordinary object to lead the philistines astray. It’s not more powerful than the whiffling of a shillelagh. The true treasure is always within ourselves.
      Gather the birds, and let us prepare to leave in the next hour, the Harmonium Convergence is about to start in 2222, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

      Baffled by the revelation, Peter knew enough to not contradict his whale partner, and went merrily with the new flow which seemed so full of excitement and potential new science revelations.

      Belen had a thought “Actually Peter my dear, any other conch we can find will do just as well. Just pick one on the beach before we leave. Dipping it in the Time stream will crystallize it just as well.”

      Peter replied excitedly “Whale that. Let’s spanghew that boat to 2222!”

      Just as a thought of love for the gift of such inner revelation, before she left the nice spot of the Spanish coast, Belen cleared her throat and :yahoo_sick: retched the most lovely green scented blob of ambergris on the beach, next to the spiral made of broken white shells that some drifters had drawn on the beach a few days ago.

      #3250
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        “This stuff’s worth a fortune! We can sell it on Eplay. It’s ambergris, whale vomit
        “What?!”
        “Sells for astronomical amounts, it’s very rare, and this piece must weigh close to five kilos, we’ll be rich!”
        “I can’t believe you stole it, Frank” said Molly, “From those nice people we met last night.”
        “Oh, they’ll never notice it, did you see how many rocks and bits of driftwood on that patio? Nobody will miss it. If they knew it’s value it wouldn’t have been sitting there on the patio, would it?”
        “I suppose not” Molly replied doubtfully. “There were so many people there than nobody would suspect us anyway. How much did you say it was worth?”

        #3232
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Queens Team and 2121 originated time-travellers

          Reginald / Maurana Banana
          Cedric / Consuela Winnie
          Amar / Terry Bubble
          Sadie Merrie
          Linda Paul

          Supporting team

          Pseu, Maria del Mar, Janice (from the City, around 2257)
          Sanso (from other dimension, multi-dimensional travel contractor)
          Frindle, Trumble, Jingle (fuck knows who they are)
          the Hawai’i techromancer

          Management team (around 2222 and later)

          Irina, mermaid Russian spy and parrot whisperer

          Jonbert, the orchestrator of the time-travelling arcs, wanting to retrieve key information from St Germain which were collected in 1757. En route back to 2222 to intercept the whales’ crystal with help from Linda Paul’s team, and his luxury submarine

          1757 King’s Versailles

          The Queen
          Madame de Pompadour
          her maid Nicole du Hausset, coming from a line of time-smugglers
          Mr Aliette the wigmaker and finger reader
          Count de St Germain
          Giacomo Casanova (pseudonyms Monsieur de St Galle / Jacques de Seingalt)
          Father Balbi, Casanova’s travelling companion
          Theater du Soleil actors (Lison Tailleur, Jean Pastisse, Geoffroy du Limon, Francette Fine)
          Robert-Francois Damiens, the assassim
          Jean-Pierre Duroy, the Grand Intendant, his wife the Pastry Chef Annie
          Cook and Helper
          ghost of Marguerite Isabeau

          The 1757 originated time-travellers

          Mirabelle the oldest and bossiest, Adeline the youngest (thief of the first ferret) and Fanetta, the French maids
          Igor Popinkin, Boris and Ivan the Russian con-artists and saboteurs hidden with the Russian Ballet troupe visiting Versailles
          Huhu the parrot
          The Whale ghost, the ghost ship (died/sunk around 1600s) and time-travelling fin whales of 2020s
          Belen, the whale
          Santa Rosa, the galleon
          the ghost obese gardener-captain Peter Pugh Petit Pois, from Peasland

          The Spanish farm and fat mermaid dolphins

          Lisa, Jack
          Pierre and Etienne
          The Italian cruise ship
          pink Amazonian dolphins

          #3222

          With years of intense Happiness training, and being herself a certified Happiness Coach™ in Rainbow Unified Bliss®, Sadie knew when to notice she was stuck and, even better, what to do about it.
          Techniques varied: some focusing on breathing, others on following impulse and all that, but most of them had in common that rabid thoughts had to be put to sleep, and the focus had to be kept on the immediate now.
          The beauty of the Hawaii island was easy on the eyes, although she could still find objections lurking in the corner of her mind that the beaches were scarce on this island, with many shores a blistering hot pan of molten lava rocks ceaselessly beaten by the waves.
          Then the sound of her companions came rousing some disturbance in her Rainbow thoughts, as she found out was mostly an annoyance with herself and her hair, the neat bowl cut starting to look a bit rugged on the edges.

          Again, the rabid thoughts were back. She had to go deeper, cling to a joyful experience, that pure moment of satisfaction. But the flow and inpouring of love stopped again like a sea anemone retracting at the light touch of a clown fish.

          She restrained the thought of loudly using the F word, and as well refrained herself from the desire to delete everything.
          She noticed a few tadpoles which weren’t here before, slithering in a little pool of water next to the spot where she was. She’d almost forgotten about the singing frogs. That such little creature could do so marvelous feats of logistics rekindled her spirits.
          What if she could just harness a little bit of her own energy. She started to list the things she was good at, besides haircuts.

          “I’m fucking good at limitations, and following other’s expectations” was what she came up with after some minutes listing some things without much conviction.
          “Bugger Linda Paul, and those ninc…” There it is she noticed again the thought.
          That’s what it’s about…

          You have to be nice and be quiet, Sadeline, the voice of her mean Breton grand-mother was saying. To which her equally loathable aunts would chime in religious rubbish of being nice and saintly and all.
          You have to be nice and be quiet, Sadeline, or go out of my way and die alone.
          She’d tried to exorcise the old goat, to rid of her, to appease her, to connect to the better version of herself that she is now since her transition. Well, nothing worked. She couldn’t find the angle. The old woman was still to her core a haunting and menacing presence with her mean irate insensitive lack of professed love.
          Maybe they’d developed better techniques in 2222, she suddenly thought. Of course…
          And then, Linda Paul wouldn’t have to know.

          “Girls?” she said in a sweet imperative voice (and slightly raucous, for the air was dry) “what do you think about having ourselves pay a visit to the local techromancer, I’ve seen the signs everywhere on the way to the beach. It’ll be a fun stop on our mission”.

          The three divas moaned under the sun, not specially enthusiastic at the effort, but then, Cedric, still himself haunted by the Russian’s vision managed to convince the others that some romance or exorcism or both, would do them great.

          #3205

          Maria del Mar first met Pseu at the Estate in the City. Maria del Mar had been projecting to the City regularly during her sleep states (the kind of sleep that land based humans would consider to be a hypnogogic state, which was the natural sleep state for whales). Pseu had been showing Maria del Mar the tile collection for the Folly and explaining about KILTs (Key Incident Link Tiles), and her friend Janice had been sharing her collection of Story World tiles. Maria del Mar described to them a similar system in her undersea world, whereby whales (and indeed other cetaceans) used energy imprinted markers for various purposes, such as teleport and time travel portal markers, and more importantly, for tracking the crystal’s time-shifting location (time shifting the location of the crystal was a necessary safety feature during the uncertain times preceding the end of the 21st century). Some of the markers were large (relatively speaking, not so very large for a whale) such as the ghost galleon the Santa Rosa, and some were small and inconspicuous, resting on the sea bed, but easily detected by connecting to the energy contained within them.
          One such marker, a tile shaped piece of ancient coral that was designated to mark a particular portal to Atlantis, had been reported missing. A small earthquake off the coast of southern Spain had dislodged the coral marker tile from it’s location in the Alboran Sea in the western Mediterranean, and it had washed up on the beach. It was unusual for a marker tile to dislodge, but a particularly strong pooling of energy had been a factor, drawing the coral tile magnetically to a beach not far from the land based timebridgers portal in a beach bar further up the coast.
          Someone walking along the beach one summer morning (coincidentally the same person who had designated the beach bar as a Timebridgers portal just a few kilometers away) had found the tile and taken it home with her, entranced with the unusual appearance of it. The morning beach walker had felt the pull of something that she couldn’t quite explain, and despite the weight of the strange object, she felt compelled to carry it home with her, and display it on her patio.
          Maria del Mar, Janice and Pseu discussed various other ongoing adventures and projects, agreed to assist each others explorations, and established a network of energetic links for ease of communication.

          #3179

          “Sorry love, I was a tad busy with the whole time travel department reorganization. Had to call HR to fire some of these incompetent nincompooptarts. Can you imagine they not only manage to send you in the wrong period but also… I’m ranting now, sorry about that sweetie pie.

          “Look, there’s no nice way to put it, so I’ll cut to the chase. The show’s been canceled by the cable network big potatoes. Too darn expensive not enough audience. You know all that jazz. I tried to argue, but all they wanted was excitement, glamour and bitching and yeah, all they got was a black tunnel and some green vomit. Got to admit, there’s no amount of special effects and sewing mojo you can raise to make your bitches look great in those dresses. Face it darling, they deserve gorgeous, but they’re still as ugly as sin.
          Hell, I guess those shareholders twats just couldn’t stand the marvelooks of us…, now I’m ranting again.

          “Long story short, forget about the ferret, keys and whatnots and get your pretty asses all right back as fast as you can or they’ll pull the plug out of the time sewers. And you know very well what that means for ye all.”

          An ominous sound effect played from the ezapper. Darn Linda Paul always had to amp up the drama.

          #3155
          Jib
          Participant

            Despite the wine and late gambling at the inn, Giacomo Casanova woke up refreshed and ready to go. In fact, if he hadn’t had his content of those two, he would not sleep well. Senator Bragadin had tried to warn him against excess, but God gave Giacomo a strong and robust constitution and an insatiable appetite for all senses matter.

            Last night’s dream was disarming. He saw whales arriving at Gibraltar’s port. He had recognized the place from his numerous travels around Europe. It hadn’t really changed. Just maybe more monkeys than in his memories of the place. The whales were very colorful and they were asking for squirrels and keys in Russian. His training with the freemasons told him not to simply dismiss it as an after-party dream.

            He heard someone snoring. A man, after the sound, how unusual, even if it happened once or twice before. He never attempted female conquest during a trip, he avoided easy or vulgar, and their current pace imposed a lack of commitment that wasn’t to his liking.

            Father Balbi, a man in his fifties, didn’t seem to have the same luck with his constitution. The priest didn’t seem too keen on upholding his vows either. His face was red with bad wine and strong female scent might explain the dark circles around his eyes and the look of unattended tiredness. The man snorted in his sleep. It was also true they were travelling days and sometimes nights when they couldn’t earn their bedroom at gambling in the main room of the Inns. It wasn’t rare that Giacomo, despite his natural penchant, would lose everything on a turn, simply because he couldn’t stop a disastrous bet.

            Just after their recent escape, Giacomo and Father Balbi didn’t want to attract too much attention with fancy clothes. Now they were far enough from Venice and their recent earnings allowed them to buy more suitable silk breeches and even wigs. His French gambling name was Jacques de Seingalt. He thought he had learned enough French during his previous visit to Paris, that he could be easily mistaken for a native. With women he learned the language of love, and with gamblers the language of the streets and when to keep his mouth shut.

            Last night he not only earned their bedroom for the night, he also learned a few interesting elements. Nobles were at the Inn and they didn’t think of discretion as a virtue, nor did they refrain their bets at a good game. And Giacomo knew how to make games interesting. After a few turns at a card game, it wasn’t long before one of them told that there would be a party at Versailles the following day. Madame de Pompadour, patron of the arts, was giving a somptuous party. Looking at a few faces, it didn’t seem to be of everyone’s liking. But nobles were somewhat like cats, they didn’t care about what commoners did think.

            Their first destination had been Paris, Giacomo wanted to meet with his friend de Bernis to help him find some regular income. Paris would have to wait. Versailles was calling. If Madame de Pompadour was giving a party, de Bernis would be at the Court. And that scoundrel Saint-Germain would be there too, he had a few masonic connections which could prove advantageous.

            #3109
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              I just restored the possibility to edit one’s own comments during at least a month. If you need to edit an earlier comment, let me know, I can extend it again.

              I also fixed the preview, which now must work as it should.

              As a bonus, some styles you can adapt to your comments for prettier quotes (the part in yellow is what to input in your comment, the result is displayed below) :

              bq(Quote). Some text in nice quote style

              Some text in nice quote style

              p{color:blue}. Some text in nice color (most color names should work)

              Some text in nice color (most color names should work)

              #3111

              Sadie had guessed right, that there was something off, which was soon confirmed by her all-purposes e-zapper. The date and place were both wrong by a smidge. They were sent off in the Champagne area, a few hundreds of kilometers off Paris and their royalties, and the date was 1757, a hundred years or so later than expected for a musketeer adventure…
              Different time, different Queen. They’d better hope to find a nice ride to get the treasure hunt going.

              Good thing was that the Dragcorp had outlets posted in advance, they would probably have something ready for them.

              “Listen ladies,” she said as they went out on the open to find out the night wasn’t ripe with opportunities in the little provincial town. “Let’s call it a night and get out of those garbs… “

              Terry pointed to a sign in the empty cobbled street and rudely interrupted “CHAMPAGNE, champagne for everyone!”

              #3099
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                “And now there’s that cycle of energy that goes into the other realms and comes full circle, cascading down like watermelons crashing down from a fountain back into this reality….”
                The random daily quote syncs again ~ Trove had an impulse to get a petunia from the garden centre, and an image popped in her mind of the nice indoor fountain in there with aquatic plants all around it. She took her camera inside, and the fountain had vanished. It had been there for as long as she could remember.

                #3082
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  After leaving the parcel in the capable hands of the Post Office staff (and while she was there remembering to send a cute birthday card with kittens on it to her friend Trove and a note to Jove and Erove saying how nice it was to see them recently) Flove was ready for her next assignment.

                  She was stationed in Rotorua and although the exact nature of the assignment had not been explained to her she believed herself to be there in a journalistic capacity. She found herself standing in the ocean with a group of people, strangers, watching a game of rugby. The rugby game was also in the ocean. She had some brief interactions with her companions and had to move away from a rather unpleasant man who was annoying her. After the match, they all walked back to a small town — via the ocean. It was dark and Flove was initially hesitant because she was not a good swimmer, but she felt some security as her companions seemed composed about the journey. The ocean was not as deep as she had anticipated. Even though the water eventually came up to her shoulders, she found she was able to walk the whole distance. At one point she noticed the fins of a shark swim by in the inky darkness of the water, but she regarded it with childish delight, rather than fear.

                  #1293

                  In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    “Are you flaming daft? I ain’t giving no bloody stranger my precious poodlekins!” The woman grabbed the poodle and clutched it protectively to her ample bosom.

                    Luigi sighed. He found other people somewhat baffling, and a tad unaccommodating, to say the least. He searched back in his memory, but could not for the life of him recall where the ointment originally came from

                    … a nice lady gave it to him? …

                    No, it was gone; there was just a gaping hole in his mind. He pondered the matter for a few moments, then decided he was done pondering and would be better served giving his attention to the light ship, which had also disappeared.

                    “How odd” he muttered.

                    “I beg your flaming pardon! I’m not the bloody odd one I’ll ‘ave you bloody know … ‘ere, I know what this is.” The woman’s face lit up and she leaned forward provocatively, “You’re making some of them bloody advances at me ain’t you?”

                    #2838

                    In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      The old man screeched to a halt, his car fishtailing wildly. His bad tempered frown at the slow moving traffic morphed in an instant into slack jawed eye popping amazement. The road had literally disappeared into an enormous hole. Good Lord! he shouted. Although he wasn’t a religious man he considered himself to be a gentleman, and didn’t swear in front of his wife. What the dickens is that? he asked her, but she was speechless with shock. The sports car they had been following, and the unmarked bus in front of it that had been holding the traffic up were nowhere to be seen.

                      ~~

                      Connie Leadbetter was nervous. It was her first date with Chad Pickins and the first time she’d been in his flashy sports car. They were on their way to a festival in Hot Springs to celebrate the magic of nature, oddly enough. Connie’s nervousness had manifested itself as a digestive system upset, and to her horror, she farted and followed through on the soft pink leather seat of Chad’s car. Mortified, she passionately wished that the ground would open and swallow her up.

                      ~~

                      The Tw’Elves, who weren’t allowed to talk on the bus, were busy discussing their situation telepathically. The previous week they had been arrested by Homeland Security as a threat to the nation, and were being transported to a detention camp in North Dakota. This eventuality wasn’t really part of their plan, but as so often happens, it slotted in nicely, albeit unexpectedly, with the Perforation Plans. Sink Holes had been appearing for some time in the middle of the north American continent, neatly following a north south line, stretching from Hudson Bay to the Gulf of Mexico, so the Tw’Elves mentally punched another hole in the perforation line to fascilitate their exit from the doomed bodies they were wearing at the time. Thus, the separation of the two halves of the continent came one hole closer to fruition.

                      ~~

                      The Energy Leprechaun gave himself a cake for another splendid synchronicity, seamlessly connecting Connie’s wish with the intention of the Tw’Elves.

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