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  • #1270
    AvatarJib
    Participant

      The discussion had been going on for hours. Yann was feeling more relaxed than he had been during the afternoon, he was lying on the sofa, his legs on Yurick’s lap.
      It was mostly Yurick who was speaking, Yann was listening and participating in some kind of soft energy exchange :) it was as if his point of view was being reflected by what Yurick was saying and all he needed was punctuate the conversation with ‘Yes’, ‘No’, ‘Ah’ and ‘mmmm’… well I exaggerate here but most of the time, Yann didn’t feel the need to expand much on any particular subject with words.

      Feeling more comfortable and secure, Yann was letting feelings and emotions surface, old memories and associations were swirling around and none of them was particularly appealing for him to mention… except one.

      “You know what, Yurick? When I was a kid there was that magician that I was afraid of… Romuald Borax… well he still frightens me.”

      Saying that he felt a shiver crawling along his back. Yurick was staring at him, not knowing what to tell and Yann continued.

      “He was always trying to demonstrate that people were fake”.

      By People, Yann was meaning people involved in paranormal activities such as psychics, channelers, people who pretended to have telekinetic abilities… there was some animal reaction to him, Yann was feeling a deep repulsion and dislike of the man.

      “Well, you know, it was also a good thing that he was skeptic…”

      Yann wouldn’t listen to what Yurick was saying… that man was really willing to destroy them!!! how could Yurick not see it? These thoughts were like absolutes, thick concrete walls that couldn’t be overridden. Though Yann wouldn’t oppose anything, he was aware that his reaction to the man was triggered by some unclear associations. He couldn’t just evaluate them at the moment.

      The day after, Yann didn’t pay attention when Dory mentionned a movie she had been watching called The Illusionist, his attention wasn’t on that aspect then… but another day after, he made the connection.

      He realized that he had always been feeling as if he was in danger himself because he wanted to explore these areas. It was as if there was a pending threat upon his life because of his very interests and that if he made them known he would be made fun of and maybe worst, he could be locked up. The realization that Yann wasn’t directly threatened by that individual was enough to let him relax his energy about the man. He could see that he was safe in his exploration and that he had nothing to prove to the world or anybody in particular.

      Yann even smiled at the thought that this illusionist wouldn’t realize that he was basing his protocol upon the biggest illusion.

      #1248

      That was it. She had enough for the time being. Ever since the management had agreed to hire him for the new show, the Freakus was not as Fabulously Great as it once was.

      Not that he was a bad guy, but he was all so closeted, he was imprinting it to the circus, and she wanted to breathe some different kind of air. Of course, never been a freak himself, Morgan the Mentalist wouldn’t ever come close as to understand what having been closeted your all life would mean. Being the Lobster girl of the show, she knew quite a bit about that.
      It had took her awhile to know that there wasn’t anything wrong with her expression, so no one would told her how to express. Not the Mentalist of all others.

      Damo, the guy who was setting up the tents had seen her leave the Freakus without a word, her little piece of luggage on her “normal” hand, while her claw-like one was tucked in a glove under her bosom. Sweet-hearted as he was, he had tried to convince her to stay, that surely there was some misunderstanding.
      “Lyla, don’t be stoopid, ain’t got nothin’ fur you out there” he’d said to her.

      She didn’t know how to tell him that all was good. She didn’t want to tell too much either, for Fama, his teen daughter wasn’t really loving the life at the circus either, and would easily have taken the bait to get out of there too. So she had moved saying that she would come back, “when it’s safe for kids” she’d added mysteriously.

      Strange at it seemed, it was like taking a breathe of air, and yet, she couldn’t help but think over and over at how she could have changed anything in what had happened. Perhaps it was just a pretext for her to do her next step.
      When Morgan first came to the show, he wasn’t in a good shape, and had begged Pat Elson to hire him. As he was kind of smart guy, he didn’t stay long in Damo’s team of workers. Pat saw his potential as a sort of empathic guy, and devised the Mentalist act with him.

      He was good at cold-reading, mostly guessing at people problems; in the beginning, some of the freakus’ people would play a part with him, to amaze the audience, but it became less and less necessary, and he would do a nice job buy himself, with lots of “it wouldn’t happen to be that your mother gave the watch to you? No… not your mother… but someone close… I can feel blah blah” and then picking on the subtle hints the guy was giving off unwittingly.

      Lately, he had started to kind of feel stuff for real. And he started to freak out. After all this time, not many people remembered Morgan as he first came to the circus, and for most he was the Outstandingly Great Mentalist. Yeah, he had been pimping up a bit his name too… Those things happen in the milieu.
      But Lyla remembered. She was a girl at this time, but your work at the circus starts very early when you’re a freak.
      She had seen how he gained a little confidence in himself, as long as it stayed within closed tents and half-lit veils. He was truly a master of illusion games, and he didn’t want people to see him differently than the way he was presenting himself. He’d first tried his little games of séances with some close trusty friends, and Lyla had been quite encouraging; he deserved to blossom his potential; no one deserved to be maintained at a place where you can’t reach your highest.

      A few days before, Lyla had had the pleasure of seeing Jenny, who’d been snake charmer many years ago, and had quit to become a singer in a bar: “tired me to travel so much, ya see” she’d said to Lyla “Now my life ain’t so complicated”.
      Then Jenny had then asked about the guys she’d known in the freakus, first of all was Morgan the Mentalist. “How’s that old fart of Morgy?” she’d asked with a giggle “still scamming around?”

      Lyla had said innocently that he’d been practicing doing it more genuinely, even to some success with local peasants in a few séances. Jenny had greeted the news with a cheer. “Wonderful, hey!”

      The next day, Lyla had had the Mentalist erupt in the caravan she shared with Zarafina and Venus, since Twi had gone to sing too. He was looking furious and once they were out of earshot (how could there be any need of making secrets with the others, Lyla had wondered, they shared everything, even the tiny bar of soap) told her with his sweetest voice how he appreciated Jenny. Of course she wasn’t a Mentalist, but she knew when someone was beating around the bush; and she needn’t be Moses to know the bush was smelling of burning.

      “I greatly appreciate Jenny, but I’d love to choose when I disclose my information to her” that’s what he said. At first, she’d thought, well, why the theatrics? Cool for you guy, peace off now. Then she slowly understood that he wanted to tell her to shut her mouth. How could she know what part to shut and which to tell? She hadn’t done anything wrong did she? Why was he having the same tone than the frigging priests with their sermons telling that you’re sinful, and when you’ve got a crooked arm, it’s because you’re born evil and such guilt shit.”

      Well, she didn’t want to stay in a position where she had to figure out which of his sharing was a real sharing or was not. So she better bugger off, take some fresh air.

      She thought how she loved to hear the radio, and her lifelong dream was to work there, in a place where people would hear her before judging from her appearance… Maybe she would thank Morgy in the future for giving her the last excuse to do what she wanted.

      #2029

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        A moment later she fell in the pool, slipping on some loose change. The part had been a free for all, and her host had alot to answer for. lots of drinks had been given to the grey goat and mavis didn’t give a shit. she meant during the days that followed to find salome, to be able to find some meaning to the story about leonora. It was a fine day for a plane ride she thought as she waited in line feeling excited until she noticed a red working lamp advertising love, but she never noticed how much easier it was during the news. The finn connection had her smiling as she thought to try creating calm and stay present and breathe as she looked around and noticed her arms were far from normal. suddenly shhe was walking away. the goat forgotten but wrick managed to save the library which was full of fresh air known only to sri who was to sort it all out although he laughed about the wood fire of the 19 planets and she was behind herself all the way

        (oops, said Bea, I forgot to indicate which of the words was from the word cloud and which were mine. Oh well, never mind….)

        #1158
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Mademoiselle Mongoose was the Director of Public Relations at the Z.O.O. (short for Zoological Organization of Outcasts) which was no easy task. Her job entailed ensuring that the members remained Outcasts whilst endeavouring to foster an attitude of Acceptance from the general public. The dilemma was that oftentimes, once an Outcast was Accepted, he no longer qualified as an Outcast and according to the rules, was no longer eligible to remain at the Z.O.O.

          Mlle Mongoose couldn’t find the new Outcast anywhere. The enormous Anaconda, affectionately nicknamed Nana Croissant, was Absent Presumed Escaped Soft, which was one of Mlle Mongoose’s biggest headaches at the Z.O.O. There seemed to be a disproportionate number of A.P.E.S. at the Z.O.O.


          Mlle Mongoose sighed. If Nana Croissant couldn’t be located, Mlle Mongoose would have to report the disappearance to her superior, Sir Raphael Cabra-Chevre. Thankfully the Z.O.O. also had a disproportionately high population of R.A.B.B.I.T.S. (Rare Intermediate ‘Best Bait In Town’ Stars), to cover for the erratic and unpredictable behaviour of the A.P.E.S., ensuring that there was plenty going on for the General Public at all times. (It may be noted by the S.W.A.N.S. ~ Sumafi Workers Affiliated Normal Society ~ that R.I.B.B.I.T.S. would be more technically accurate, however they were generally accepted as R.A.B.B.I.T.S. to Those In The Show ~ otherwise known as T.I.T.S.)

          Mlle Mongoose decided to enlist the help of the C.A.M.E.L.S. (Central Agency for Missing, Escaped & Lost Softs) before alerting Sir Raphael Cabra-Chevre.

          The Case of The Disappearing Aardvark was another matter, though. Mlle Mongoose decided to call in the M.E.E.R.C.A.T.S. (Missing Entities & Essences Roll Call and Time Share)

          #1142

          “I had an absolutely brilliant revelation last night” Bea was saying “about The Door. Buggered if I can remember what it was, though.”

          “Well fat lot of use that is then, Bea” replied Leonora. “Any snapshots? Can you remember anything at all?”

          “Well, there was a big pale green patch that floated down, then there was the floating part, oh and all the coloured light flashes…the French girl, the old fashioned scene…..and that weird change of focus, sort of off centre and a bit out of body, with the guy behind my right shoulder shouting HEY every time my focus started drifting back to normal. Oh, and the spiraling part, that was cool too!” Bea was starting to drift off into another world just thinking about it.

          “Yes, well, now we know all about The Door” said Leonora sarcastically. “Very helpful, Bea, well done.”

          “That’s it!” shouted Bea, leaning forward in excitement. “It’s about blocking energy!”

          Leonora rolled her eyes.

          “Holding tightly to energy, that’s what the closed door is. I can have an open door, and still be free to create who walks through it. We don’t lock the door here, do we, but we don’t get any intruders.”

          “Maybe that’s because we’ve got nine dogs” said Leo. “And anyway, define intruder, in a ‘you create your own reality’ context. What’s the difference between an intruder, and a wonderful surprise?”

          Bea was stumped for a moment. “That’s a good question, Leo, we’ll come back to that in a bit, but let me finish telling you this before I forget again.
          I used to mentally open a big double door every time I did a meditation or went to sleep” Bea continued “and I havent opened that door in months. Well, sometimes it’s open, obviously, but I dont seem to throw the doors open wide anymore, you know, to other energies objectively, if you see what I mean.”

          Bea was starting to ramble. “I used to invite any Tom, Dick and Harry to my meditations as long as they weren’t aliens.”

          “What about the dogs in raincoats dimension?” asked Leo “What were they if they weren’t aliens?”

          “Oh, they were alright, I liked them. Oh you know what I’m like about that other dimensional stuff, don’t get me started on that now. I think occasionally things happen and I get rattled, and shut the door for a bit.”

          “Right, so let see if I’ve got this straight” said Leonora “There’s more than one layer to this Door thing because what you’ve just told me is what’s going on in your reality. The question is, what’s going on in mine?”

          “Buggered if I know, LeoBea replied. “Fancy a cuppa?”

          #1105

          Norm Al Ladd, christened Norman Allan Ladd, was seriously beginning to wonder what kind of production he had signed himself up with. Never in his career as a P movie actor had me met such an odd cast.

          #835

          Some sort of bug may have landed on his nose, provoking one of the most astounding sneezing the twins had ever heard.
          Irtak was busy scratching his nostrils while Heckle and Jeckle were trying to find out where they could possibly be, what was that reality again? It felt familiar but different.
          Well, the sky was quite cloudy, and they remembered that they were in the Marshes of Doom, in a different time period than their hatch time.
          Heckle stretched his long neck and sniffed the loaded damp smells.
          Jeckle bent his neck, he had found something odd… could that be a dragon egg? That was quite fitting with the brown soil. It was looking like a normal stone. It wasn’t ready to hatch soon. He felt Irtak was intrigued by his discovery, though his twin was already distracted by a huge dragonfly, a blue one with golden shades.

          Should we bring it back with us, asked Irtak.

          The puzzled look of his friend was enough… He wouldn’t be able to tell if it was there before they arrived. He wouldn’t be able to tell since when they were at this place… all his memories were blurred since they left the cave. There was no feeling or urge though, no feeling of being late. His attention gradually drifted away from the egg and they eventually decided to come back to Malvina and the travelers.

          #1723

          In reply to: Synchronicity

          TracyTracy
          Participant

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

            #762
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              The glowing light was showing a familiar face…

              — So the boy is wavering?
              — Yes. He is uncertain of the path… Does seem to have difficulty to trust his calling and take responsibilities being the owner of…
              — He’ll do that. We can’t let him run away from it, nor afford the time of little vacationing. Did you secure the item?
              — Yes. But you know it is worthless unless willingly handed over by the previous owner, right?
              — Certainly. But I feel he’ll soon wish it back.
              — I have words of cankerous corruption, endemic to where he was sent.
              — Precisely.

              :fleuron2: :fleuron2: :fleuron2:

              Glasgow, Scotland, February 25 th 2068, Wrick Fundation

              — So Cuthbert has refused?
              — Yes. With his sister busy with her first-born, she can’t take on that much responsibility either.
              — This is most regrettable. Lord Wrick’s will was perfectly clear though. Should none of the twins accept running his empire, all of its wealth would be used for humanitarian projects of the Fundation.

              :fleuron:

              A week before, Orkney Islands

              Cuthbert, you must accept.
              — Please, don’t wear yourself out Pope. Your body is weak.

              Cuthbert’s face was drenched by emotion. Despite his small frame and his scrawny body, Lord Hilarion Wrick’s strong will was still present, as if etched on his face by all the years of reign. He wouldn’t take a “no” for answer, even now he was dying, just as he had never accepted it in his nearly 120 years of existence.

              Cuthbert, listen to me. All this time you and your sister have spent at the Manor, all of the time I spent with you, this was not meant for naught, you know that. I was not some old decrepit rag of an elder waiting for his death cushioned between the laughters of his great-grand children. I noticed how you and your sister handled at an early age what I have been showing to you. The books,… the mummy even. This was only a test. What I had not found in Sean, nor in his son, I found out in you and your sister. Mind you, it took me that long, but it was worth the wait, and I know how to be patient.
              — You’re repeating yourself Pope, I know this story. I am very grateful for all that you did, all the knowledge I owe to you, but I can’t accept. It’s just… too much! I just want to spend these moments with you.
              — You just cannot whine throughout all of your existence Cuthbert. You chose to be born here, at this moment, in that family. There is no point in refusing what you have placed on your path.
              — I’m not whining! It’s just that… I just want a normal life! answered Cuthbert vehemently
              — Very well then. The face on the Lord was resolute despite his writhing in pain. You will have to see how much life is nothing meant to be normal. In the meantime, I would appreciate your letting me die alone.

              #735

              The last words of the stranger were still resonating in his mind. Franiel was feeling a bit drowsy and he had the odd sensation of being looked from the inside. A smile illuminated the face of the man.

              You are the weirdest man I ever saw. he said in a sigh. When he realized what he had told his guest, he blushed with shame. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t mean…
              Hahahahaha. The man was slapping on his legs. Hahahaha, my dear Franiel, you don’t know how close to the truth you are. I appreciate when one speak his heart.

              Franiel couldn’t say anything. He was aware that he should have been feeling shameful, but the laugh of the stranger had dissipated that convention. He was just feeling in harmony with his creation. This last thought surprised him. His creation? He’d been told that the gods created all that is on the Duane, her sister the Murtuane and their ghostly sister the Phrëal.

              What was in the nectar? I’m seeing things. He frowned. Something in the surrounding objects, the mossy rocks and the earthly path, the grass and the insects flying or crawling around. The colors were different. Your eyes… they are… blue…

              The stranger was still smiling, not saying anything, and though Franiel was feeling as if he was communicating him important things.

              Something leapt from behind a tawheowheo, making the nearby dandelion seeds fly away silently.
              The creature was barking and Franiel jumped on his feet, making the chalice fall in the dust. It was similar as a mountain wolf, but smaller. Black and fuzzy. And it was running toward him.

              Don’t be afraid of Moufle, he’s my long life companion, he’s been following me in my exploration for quite some time in a form or another. He makes a lot of noise, but he knows his friends.

              Moufle was trying to lick Franiel’s face. All the love he had felt a second before was shaded by the need to keep the animal away. Not that he was dangerous. The stranger… what was his name? He didn’t tell him his name. Franiel was too shy in his normal state to dare ask directly. But he could at least relax as Moufle was now occupied with his master, who spoke as if he’d read his mind.

              I am not his master, you see. he was fondling his companion. He’s just choosing to come with me.
              He kept silent for a minute, snooting around.

              By the way, my name is Leonard.

              #685

              Dory was bored. She didn’t really know whether to be Dory, or Becky, or even Illi today. Maybe I will be someone new, she thought. Hmmm……

              Elvira, how about that. Well, Elvira was just as bored as Elvira as she would have been as Dory, Becky or anyone else for that matter. What happens when the inspiration goes? Where does it go? One minute the world is full of interesting things, and then Poof! nothing is very interesting at all……

              Elvira had lots of interesting things to do, she had many books, and various artistic projects half started or not even started, just thought about on and off for ages, and she had puppies to play with, and a big drawer full of pens and things to draw with. She had a camera that took little videos that was often a lot of fun…but nothing seemed worth the trouble today, nothing at all…..not even that silly wacom thing, and after all that fuss to buy it, too…it was more fun talking about buying it then the darn thing ever was afterwards…..

              The Internet, how could anyone be bored with an internet! There must be something seriously wrong with her to be bored when she had Internet! But she halfheartedly googled this, googled that…ho hum, tedium, nothing very interesting there….

              Well, what about your imagination then! Elvira sat up a bit straighter, challenging herself. You can surely do something interesting in your imagination, can’t you?

              She slumped back down again, and sighed. Like what? Well, imagine you are out in the sun, going for a walk…..

              Well ok, then, I am on the beach. At first I feel the sun on the top of my head and I squint at the bright sparkles on the sea. Then, my ears are ringing with cold, it’s a windy cold day after all and not much fun on the beach at all. Oh pull yourself together, woman! Pull your scarf round your ears! It’s a great day for driftwood, just look at those waves rolling in.

              I am trudging along, and the sand is hard to walk on and makes my legs ache. My God, I am out of shape! There are soggy oranges and piles of bamboo sticks, and plastic bottles all washed up in curving heaps. A soggy Marlboro carton; my, are they still smuggling fags from Gibraltar, I am so out of the smuggling loop these days….

              Well, was that it? Elvira chastised herself. Not much of a flight of imagination there, was it? Maybe a walk along the river instead…..

              Oh alright, if I have to…..actually I can’t be bothered to do this imaginary walk either, it’s no use….nothing is really very interesting today. I would like someone to amuse me, charmingly, pointlessly, something funny and light, and delightfully meaningless and simple…..

              And god forbid, nothing to do with beliefs, please! Or any of that weird stuff, like other lives and other dimensions, and talking to aliens and all that weirdo stuff….weirdo, weirdo, stuff! UGGHHH Elvira shuddered.

              Well, one thing I am pleased about, she mused almost happily, I can smoke again now my lungs are behaving. I thought I would be gloriously happy forever if I could only breathe without fear, and already I am Ho Hum about breathing….thought for sure I’d remember to focus on every brilliantly wonderful NOW moment, I did, after that fright with the lungs, but no….back to normal, well, worse than normal really, because now I am not even interested in anything……

              I wonder if I should start drinking again…..Oh don’t be silly, Elvira told herself rather sharply. Well, drugs then, maybe that would buck me up. It’d buck you up alright, but for how long? Well when they wore off, I could take some more.

              Yeah, right…..

              Elvira sighed again. Even Bertie Wooster hadn’t even managed to raise a smile this time, and he always used to make her smile. Reading Wodehouse now made her frown, wondering what ever she had used to find so amusing……

              The birds are making a racket out there, she noticed. Whatever do they find to sing about all day? Chirp chirp…jeeze….. maybe I should take up golf, she wondered. Dan seems to always have an interest, something passionately all-consuming……he never has enough hours in the day for all HIS interesting things….

              Where have all my interesting things GONE?

              #682

              Looking at the clearing, where there was seemingly only a little girl on the trunk of a cut down coconut tree, Akita found himself puzzled. A girl, alone, in that dangerous jungle… Might it be a trick from his old enemies? The giant spiders were vicious, and could play some tricks of mind on humans, he’d witnessed before he’d run into Kay, who was granting him some sort of protection. But as far as he knew, they couldn’t do anything that elaborate. They were rather primitive in their projections, and were more inclined to slimy nightmarish visions than cute little dark-skinned girls, however untidy were her clothes…
              Besides, Kay seemed to trust her. And she could see him too. Usually, humans other than partners of spirit dogs couldn’t see them, but at times before they reached puberty, children were able to get glimpses of them, Kay had explained him.

              Apparently either the girl was a simpleton, or she had an impossible chance not having yet encountered the spiders, being as she were, pretty oblivious to what was around her, and speaking to herself or imaginary friends, while fiddling with a small device the like of which Akita never had seen in his life. The thing was making beeping noises much like a radio emitter, and his heart leapt at the idea that she might break some god-sent transponder found in the wreckage from which she surely had been a miraculous survivor…
              Kay, who had been observing and talking to the little girl, came back near Akita in a blink.

              — Don’t worry for that device, it’s just a game…
              — A game? It seems quite sophisticated for a game…
              — It’s my Gamegirl Advanced, said the girl, without detaching her gaze from the tiny screen… But the batteries will soon be dead, she added with a lovely pouting face.
              — Better the batteries than you, retorted Akita. So who are you? You can call me Akita… And I guess you’ve already met Kay.
              — I’m Anita, but everybody calls me Anu.

              She put the tiny thing at her side, and smiled broadly at Akita.

              — Wow, you have such strange clothes, it’s like you’re out of one of those black and white war movies that my father used to watch…
              — No wonder, little girl, we are at war.
              — I’m not a little girl, and I don’t think you’re right. We’re not at war!
              — That was probably well intended of your parents to hide you the truth, but thing is we are. I’ve been stranded on this island for months now with these loathsome creatures, and all I can suppose is that these spiders are secret weapons from the Nazis.
              — Oh, Nazis? Like in Indiana Jones! Anu started to giggle…
              — What do you mean? So you know of Nazis?
              — Sure, my great granddad fought them on the beaches of Normandy, that was many years ago.
              — I don’t understand… Do you have any idea of what’s going on? Akita asked Kay
              — Grwl… All of your human quandaries don’t usually make a great deal of sense to me, if you ask me, but I guess her friends would probably know more…
              — Her friends? You mean, her imaginary friends?
              — Oh they are not imaginary, Anu and Kay chorused.

              — Let me try something, Kay said.

              And the ghostly dog form contours started to wobble like a poked cube of jelly, becoming a single ball of phosphorescent ectoplastic energy that started to rotate around Akita. Akita’s vision, disturbed by the movements started to blink at a more rapid rate until his peripheral vision started to show some distinct coloured St Elmo’s fires. They were four he could count, at least for the closest ones. At time they overlapped, and when he was focusing on his peripheral vision, he could get more and more stability in these visions.

              Kay had stopped, and was again crouched near Akita.
              — That’s all? Akita asked in dismay…
              — Now you know the trick, answered Kay, almost shrugging…

              — It’s really easy, said Anita, beaming at a disoriented Akita. Also… Yuki told me that apparently time is considerably slowed down on this island. And while a month passes here, ten years pass in the world we come from…

              #1647

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                111 emails in the inbox this morning, too :yahoo_oh_go_on:
                Rabbits, owls, neptunes and herons….. :cluebox:
                oh and driftwood :fleuron2: (driftwood icon)
                OH! In today’s paper: normal people tell 88,000 lies (that’s either a year or a lifetime, I can’t remember), and that’s not including probable selves. We are not normal, therefore we are an exception :yahoo_winking:

                #604
                AvatarJib
                Participant

                  Yann stroke Arona, lost in his thoughts. He’d spent the last few days with Yurick at Gustav’s place. He’d met Gustav a few days ago, when Yurick came to Paris with him. Gustav was a very sympathetic and fun fellow, his energy felt very soft to Yann and quite sensitive though he could appear a bit rough to others. Gustav was kind enough to let Yann sleep one night at his house when he was still there, before his holidays with his parents before Christmas and friends after Christmas. It was the occasion to eventually be with Yurick.

                  The life together was a bit different from what he would have normally expected… before. Now it was just a new experience, the interaction was different, and the configuration of energy could be a bit tricky.

                  Yann had noticed that in his perception even if an aspect of his attention was focused on the physical place and that he was physically seeing other individuals and objects in the official room, his main attention was elsewhere… he was beginning to be able to let more of this periphery to bleedthrough in his official reality, and he was well aware that the interactions weren’t always what they appeared to be. He first had the reflex to filter it through his usual associations and what he knew of this reality… but often enough he had that twinge about it like it wasn’t really fitting… it wasn’t fitting at all, he was trying to mold it into another shape, a familiar and distorted shape, so to speak. Ok, that was acceptable, and most of the time his attention and his movement was toward Yurick’s energy.

                  Yurick was creating some weird stuffs in with his mouth… some itching and uncomfortable pain… it was a bit weird because of the familiar associations with it… associations with pain, illness, preoccupations, caring, even self worth… but most of all it was showing Yann about the automatic movement “outside” of self, and not being present in what himself was doing.

                  Yann had noticed that most of the time when he was in what he was doing there was that warm expansion feeling in his belly… but still there was that location association with it… and the association that Yurick was outside and the room was outside and then at times it was fading and there was not much separation within energy.

                  And he just noticed that no separation didn’t necessarily mean continuity :-?

                  Ok, again this Owl music of the Harry Potter series… the “scum of the universe” connection was a bit hidden by this music now, but it was still in his periphery. And something he wanted to explore. A feeling of space travel and of mercenaries… that reminded him of the video games he was playing when he was a kid. There was always a time when he was fascinated by the “bad guys”, the pirates. Haha, maybe a pie rat would do as a dessert.

                  He would soon come back “home”. He had that DVD of the pilots of a series about space travels that he liked a lot… Yurick had told him about it 2 days ago, he had never seen it.

                  #575
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    Georges and Salome’s journal

                    From Salome’s account of their first journey to the Alienor star system

                    The Jorid has spotted what will be the destination for our first joined adventure.
                    It’s a dimension which seems unexplored yet, and rather fascinating. Georges, as he is, would already have jumped right in, but I preferred to get a little more background information before moving into it. It’s still a little awkward to move into these realms where the laws of physics as we’ve known them are different, sometimes dramatically so. These would not be too much of a difficulty as the adaptation of the physical body usually goes quite fast, as Georges has shown me when we trained in more familiar dimensions, but the most delicate part is when we barely know the relationships at play.
                    Georges will laugh because he’s more confident that everything is perfect, but somehow, I tend to believe that things can be a little more perfect when we know how to avoid making faux-pas.
                    So we’ve spent a few days gathering some basic informations on this dimension we call Alienor. The most part of the activity seems to revolve around a cluster of planetoids. At this moment, it’s forming a system of three planets revolving on the same orbit around their sun. We call them Duane, Murtuane, and Phrëal.
                    They seem to form a complex web of relationships, and cover such a wide range of aspects that we have decided on a mutual agreement to split our exploration to cover more ground for a beginning.
                    Georges is exploring the Duane, and I took the Murtuane, both planetoids seeming to come from the same core of matter, in a manner of speaking. The feeling around the Phrëal is more ambivalent, as though it is undergoing some deep change, not unlike to the Shift that will be (or has been) occurring on our Earth. So, we’ve decided not to interfere with it right now. It may take a dozen of years (as we understand them) for them to undergo that process, but it’s not like we care of time issues in any case.

                    Here are my first observations concerning the Murtuane. Obviously, it ties into the Duane, but I am not completely aware of all of these ties yet.
                    The first connection I had to the Murtuane was with some ancient beings living here. I saw myself riding one of these sentient beings, gliding through the sky in a mountainous land. The colours are vivid, even if the atmosphere seems very light, and filtering the sun’s ray in a spectrum slightly more indigo than our sky on Earth. These beings, whose name I can’t yet translate accurately (it’s something close to Nirgual) are powerful winged focuses of essence, though I suspect this to be a mere convenient form that they use. They somewhat remind me of the Rokhs (or Rocs) that the sultan’s wifes were telling us about in their legends. Apparently, they are respected, perhaps feared by the people inhabiting the lands, though I can feel they are for the most part benevolent.
                    These people, those that I could spot, seem to have a slightly green skin, but overall humanoid form (within my translation of them).

                    I will probably have more to connections once we gather our impressions with Georges.

                    #484

                    A swirling motion emerged from nothing in the hatching room. Irtak was feeling a bit dizzy and his link with Heckle and Jeckle flinched a bit. He was in constant communication with them since their hatching and he had felt his thought process merge with theirs… He’d been feeling weird for some time and had seen images of things that had already happen (normal), or things that had not yet happen (a bit weirdo), and things that could have happen or had happened in another timeline, and things that may appear in this timeline or that were related to another… he had had difficulties juggling with that and if he had been alone he thought he would have kill himself or just loose every bit of control he had thought he had… WTM

                    He was learning quickly what Malvina already knew and what had been her own path so to speak when she had bonded with Leörmn. Another weird thing is that since his own bonding with the twins, he was feeling their “father” more and was understanding him better. He was connected to him strongly through them. He was then aware of the arrival of “strangers” and was aware also that the man was connected to him. He could not feel the link yet or understand it. He felt different but so similar to himself. And in a way Irtak was associating this dizziness to the man. What was his name again? The Georges?

                    The woman he could see through the twins awareness of their father’s awareness was awesome, he felt strongly attracted to her. He couldn’t understand, but was sure they also were connected. His heart was beating faster, as if meeting an old friend he hadn’t seen for so many years.

                    Wodd! he thought.

                    He was placing the new eggs in the Hatching Room, it was crowded. He had never seen that. So many dragon eggs.

                    :recycle:

                    Wodd! Another energy surge, like some aspects switching swiftly and smoothly. His perception had shifted again. He felt the reassuring presence of his friends, in the background so to speak, but so close. They knew he had to go through it alone and were just here supportive energies. They were playing and shape-shifting so swiftly, as to facilitate his own movement. At one time they were like a blond girl dancing and a filthy heavy man burping. At another they were like a scrawny horse and a man with a strange hat on his head. At another again, they were just blurred and smelly cherry alcohol… Trying to focus on all those changes was making him dizzier. But he was also feeling the easiness in his own movement if he didn’t oppose the process.

                    All the eggs were shining and changing colors, he knew it was their different forms and colors in different timelines and also in different probable lines… He saw for a moment like a big airy fish, translucent and wow so big. It was straddling dimensions and it had a strange shrimpy companion always gravitating around.

                    The eggs were all put together, not too close, and not to far away to create some resonance between them… Who would be here for the hatching? Who would bond with them? He was feeling odd as if it will all be taken care of in time.

                    — OK! it’s over, now we can join Malvina and welcome our guests.

                    He heard himself speaking with so many voices, some young, some older, and some even feminine voices.

                    :face-crying:

                    The dragons were wearing their blond wig again, like twin dancers… laughing and having so much fun.

                    #1846
                    AvatarJib
                    Participant

                      The legend of The Weaving Princess

                      Once upon a time, in the Warring Kingdom of Landgurdy, lived the Yellow Princess Atiara. She was living with her father, the Yellow King of Landgurdy in the Subtle Palace of Aram Ardun, the capital.

                      The day of Her 20 th birthday was a very special day. As for any normal citizen of the Warring Kindgom, it was the day She fully became an adult. And furthermore, it was the day of Her wedding with the man to whom she was betrothed the day of her 12 th birthday, Prince Shomar At Gurna from the War Clan Gurna Drom.

                      The Yellow King had organized a sumptuous banquet in the Palace, and although the people of Landgurdy was not invited in the Palace, many banquets had been set all around the country. Only the War Clanners of Landgurdy were to be admitted in Her presence in this most special day.

                      At the very moment of the blessing by the Priest of Tatasi, the slaughter had already been perpetrated. The treacherous War Clanner Namad Gurdin had made an agreement with the Warring Kingdom of Cromash Tur. One of them had been replaced by the Assassin Varad Romash Karad Din, Master of this infamous Guild. Cromash Tur had sworn that very day would be the end of the Landgurdy. And it was. Many had tried to unfold the mystery of the sudden death of all the War Clanners and the Nobles present at that moment. The fact is that they were all found dead by the servants who were intrigued by the silence following the blessing… No wound, no trace of poison. The death of all these people remains a mystery.

                      Though, two were missing. The Assassin, and the Yellow Princess.

                      Cromash Tur’s army invaded the Landgurdy shortly after that… No resistance encountered, no more War Clanners to assure the safety of the land.

                      Though Cromash Tur’s Warlord always denied having captured the Yellow Princess, she was supposed held captive in an unknown shadowy place of the Marshes of Doom.

                      The Death Guards were keeping an eye on her, and every cloth, every dish, every book that was given to her was meticulously checked. Nothing was to bear the slightest trace of yellow. According to the legend, her family was famous with their use of this magic color, one of their most powerful talent was the control of the weather pattern, and the King of Cromash Tur feared strongly she would use her power to destroy his Kingdom if She could see a yellow dot.

                      The Marshes of Doom were so grey and shadowy, she could never see any trace of yellow there.

                      (to be continued)

                      #1534

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      EricEric
                      Keymaster

                        About Yurara Fameliki (comment # 220)

                        Yurara (ゆらら の月 Yurara no Tsuki)

                        Yurara Tsukinowa is a quiet girl who can see spirits and sense their emotions. Not wanting to seem abnormal, she hides her secret until she meets Mei Tendo and Yako Hoshino, two guys who use their spiritual powers to ward off vengeful spirits. The dormant guardian spirit in Yurara arises and a strong-willed beauty with the power to release souls emerges.

                        #336

                        Hi Torsten, said Tina, giving her old friend a hug. Thanks for calling and saying you had some time to chat, hope I didn’t sound odd when I answered the phone, Becky was there, and I didn’t want to tell her. I am trying to pretend I am normal you see, she laughed wryly.

                        I really need someone who isn’t involved with the play to talk to though, I feel like I am going a bit weirdo, bottling everything up. And it is affecting the play and my relationship with the others.

                        I can’t find my place in the play the others are writing. See it is the play “the others are writing”. I feel as though I am drifting through it, trying to find my way amidst the structure, if you can call it structure, they give it. And that is the way I am feeling about life, I can’t find my place in it

                        At the moment I claim to believe in magic, and that I create my own reality, but I certainly don’t feel it the last few days. She thought for a moment. Well other days recently have been golden, it is all magic. I find it everywhere. Yes, I have had days like that, but the last week or so I can’t find it.

                        What changed?

                        I felt as though I couldn’t create what I wanted to.

                        What if you could?

                        All of it? It would be a miracle though. My rational mind tells me it is not possible. And in that lies the source of this pain.

                        So you don’t believe what you claim to believe

                        Tina thought for a moment. I keep feeling the eyes of that Blue Mule character I told you we created on me. That’s not his name, but I keep getting stuck on the spelling . Well actually I didn’t create him. The others keep creating new characters, every time someone does a typo, it is “hey! new character!” Anyway this was ages ago. And in the play there was a picture that one of the characters, Quintin, did, and whenever I say “I can’t”, then I feel these eyes of Blue Mule challenging me, and it’s like he’s saying, “ well what DO you believe then?” and it is like a real challenge in these eyes.

                        #1467
                        EricEric
                        Keymaster

                          Blue quote thingy

                          The blue quote thingy is made with bq. (blockquote) at the beginning of a new line.

                          bq. will give that

                          will give that

                          If it extends to many paragraphs, then use

                          bq.. my long quote
                          continued
                          p.  *back to normal paragraph again*

                          my long quote

                          continued

                          back to normal paragraph again

                          You can have more details in the Textile help file for other more complex designs…

                          Searching

                          :face-glasses: I tried in both the search tab, and the “quicksearch”, and it seems OK.

                          Only trick is in the search tab, when you look up, say… “Arona”… you have to click on the highlighted extract, and not on the title, if you want to be brought directly to the one of the many comments where Arona appears ;))

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