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  • #935

    From one blink to the other, hung betwixt spaces and times in that now where there is no such thing as space or time, Leörmn was considering the wide network of possibilities through the eyes of his friends to assist their movement.


    The “blink” was an opportunity for them; an opportunity to rearrange the space, incorporate new physical aspects, or discard others.

    In truth, all was ever here, at their reach. All was surrounding them in a dance of invisible links of consciousness.
    These links were, like the grains of sand of a giant glubolin, constantly vibrating in an arrangement made to accommodate and fit those clumps of grains known as “essences” that were playing for a moment the game of having an identity and being separated from the whole vibration moving through the sand —even playing to the point of identifying themselves with the sand at times.

    You could see that as a progressive enhanced experience, and while most races he had seen were having fun playing with many filters overlaying the experience of that vibrating scenery of conscious sand, Leörmn was a dragon, and dragons had no need for that many layers.
    That was where the energy of Malvina, and Georges, were helpful. In tuning into their filterings, Leörmn could dim the spotlights on the parts of this unbound scenery which was not useful to them. But still retaining this wide awareness of the infinite realm of possibilities, he could also easily spot those most accessible to them.
    And even as consummate a traveler Georges was, there were still energy reconfiguration of the overall scenery that were not easily reachable for him.
    Tuning into another world or reality was mostly easy. Altering the configuration of the physical reality at a bigger scale was another thing altogether.

    That tremendous power had made the dragons almost extinct in the past —a better way to put it would be to say that they slipped into other dimensions, exited that of Alienor—, fearsome as it was for the other races.
    The seed that was found in that past they had just visited was already germinating. The whole probability trail looked to the dragon like something radiant and warm as the little creature named Leo, curled-up into Malvina’s aura…

    What would be their next move now?

    #934
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      New Venice, March 2034

      After so many “haven’t been on my honeymoon yet!” ( ¹² ) , Becky was relieved to see that she had fast-forwarded time so nicely that, finally, in a few hours of time now, they would depart for Sri Lanka.

      Of course, the last events with her wavering in different probabilities, and manifesting more of what she had tried —almost by reflex— to avoid were still on her mind. She had felt a bit sorry for Sean, but she knew all along that the choices were hers, and worrying unduly about others, even if that was about her dear spouse, wouldn’t be efficient at all, needless to say not even slightly helpful.
      She had to concentrate more on the way she wanted to express herself. That way, she knew she would draw to her the perfectly appropriate situations —while the less than appealing stuff would recede in the background under a good dose of acceptance fairy dust.

      Though still a bit weary of her unexpected pregnancy from a future traveler who hadn’t even had the tact to propose her to elope with him, her minds were fresh and excited as ever at the thought of hopping like a daft goat on the Lion’s Rock in Sigiriya. And her good mood seemed to have an infectious effect on Sean who hadn’t even inquired of what local liquor there would be on the island. Perhaps the aura of the spiritual region had already blessed Sean with some renewed optimism.

      As she was fondly stuffing her skimpy honeymoon outfit in the already ready to burst piece of luggage, she smiled blissfully, remembering all of a sudden how she had forgotten to be gentle with herself these past few days, and how nice it was to treat herself with shiny and twinkling shards of spicy new adventures.
      She could indeed feel the excitement of doing some psychic archeology (as her step-mother used to call that) on these spots full of collective energies that she hadn’t had the taste of in many months.

      #921

      It had been a week now. Georges had fully taken his role as Shu-Lom, the eleventh Gate in the Council of the Guardians. His mergence with the actual focus of Blöhmul was fading out ; the transition had been smooth, unnoticed by most of the Guardians, even his closest friends. Georges was careful not to display any unusual change in Shu-Lom’s attitude, though some of them were showing signs of suspicion, especially… his own focus, Sinadron who was the most susceptible to be aware of the difference. Georges had been avoiding him since his arrival, but he would eventually have to face him for one of the rituals soon to begin.
      Of the eleventh other Guardians, only 2 were considering him as a friend, Doh’Maar and Vogel. Most of the others were ignoring him during the sessions and Sinadron were despising him. Well, technically he was despising Shu-Lom and the change would not make things go easier between the 2 of them as the energy of their 2 focuses were sort of repulsing each other.
      Following Shu-Lom’s habits, he was heading to the public baths, but contrary to him, he was going during daylight. He needed some answers. He had been feeling strong tensions between the Gates, and there were also underlying feeling of discontentment and anger among the other Guardians. For the first time in their history, unknown groups of their kind were attacking the other races and provoking them and generating feelings of fear, even amongst the Guardians.
      The man he was following would give him some of the answers. He would have to befriend him first though. Noraam had a smooth energy, and he would be easy to approach, especially in the dampness of the baths.

      Noraam was wearing an grey cape, attached on his shoulders with carved fibulae. His robe was short, above his knees, and rather dark. He was quite young by the standards of the Guardians and still fiery. Shu-Lom was young too, about the same age as Noraam, but he was quite pessimistic and self-effacing, and especially he wanted to leave, that he did, and Georges took his place.
      Georges suddenly felt a familiar energy, one that he would recognize anywhere, anytime. Salome… rather another focus of her essence. Hahaha, that was a surprise, and he almost lost track of what he was doing. Noraam was already taking the stairs up to the baths. Something about the energy of that focus was attractive, he still didn’t know who it was or what he/she(?) was doing here. Maybe just a projection. He didn’t have time to investigate. Heading to the stairs where Noraam was already being dematerialized and rematerialized to the first level, he heard a child’s voice.

      Can you help me?.. I know you can.

      What again, another distraction… he would be late to the baths and maybe loose the occasion to speak with the other Gate.

      Looking down at the origin of the voice, he was surprised to see a little girl, red hair and amber eyes. As he could see, she was blind, but as he could feel, she was quite capable of seeing things.

      Do I know you, little one? He had not been aware of this child in Shu-Lom’s memories, and he was wondering if he had missed something during his encounters with the original.

      You dreamt of me the other night, but you weren’t here yet.

      Her last words triggered a memory, of him carrying a naked little girl in his arms, protecting her in a way, and he was following a man in his dream, trying to keep track… in his dream, he was rushing and almost lost the child, following also Salome who had already taken the stairs… yes he was here in his dreams, the place and the stairs were the same… as was the child.

      What is your name little one? In my dream you were followed by an owl
      You can call me Ar’Meel.

      :fleuron:

      Sam thought he could write it somewhat differently. With his understanding of Georges’ abilities, he could well have split in two and followed Salome and stayed with the girl simultaneously and maybe even Noraam.
      A smile.
      He was feeling wobbly and wavy. A ripple effect?
      It seemed that there had been a strange recognition between his character and himself. It was like Georges was aware of Sam wanting to change what had happened… or was it a suggestion of Georges?

      #908

      They won’t stop those nasty buggers! Tearing apart all our beauty machines! Awww, poor Vessie will be devastated! Gloria said sadly, coming dangerously close to the spot
      Watch’out Glo! Sharon cried as a menacing magpie came cawing at her while the others were ripping the machine apart in gruesome metallic sounds.
      Bugger! Bugger! cried Gloria Won’t bloddy poke me eyes! She started to wave her arms and kick out in erratic movements to brush out the bouncing and flying bird.

      STAY CLEAR! the voice of Sha thundered a few moments after, and before Gloria could notice anything, a big thud with a crunching sound went zooming past her.
      Bloddy brilliant Sha! Gloria said, spreading the fatty fingers of her hands off her face to look at the magpie crunched under a coconut. Not so proud now, bloddy bugger! she sniggered at the bird.

      She almost giggled as she looked up on her friend. In a second, she understood how the coconut had been thrown. Ye’re bloody genius Sha! Wouldn’t have thought of using me bra as a sling! she beamed at her nearly naked friend wearing all but wrinkles and padding.

      Oh the buggers, won’t get away with it! an all bucked up Gloria said, stripping her bra off her opulent breasts.
      Dammit, they got something! T’s‘all shiny like a crystal ball! Must be a U.V. lamp or something
      They won’t get away with it! We’ll knock ‘em out one by one those nasty buggers; any more coconuts by yourself sweetie?
      Got aye few pomegranates here
      Go fer it!

      #893

      The day had been long. Actually, from an outside perspective he had been apparently sleeping almost all of it, so it was not appearing as if it could be a really exhausting day at all.
      But Al had been extending his body researches in the subjective. He’d started to play again with his various dream bodies he had known the existence of for quite a while now, though he hadn’t yet found the time to experiment with them fully enough. An idea he owed to Sam, who he had been pleased to hear about his unusual experiences in the Australian bush, or more accurately, in the Dreamtime.

      Playing with these various “bodies”, or qualities of attention and perception, he was aware that his thoughts on the recent events occurring in their story was still unfolding in the backstage of his attention. A rehearsal perhaps…
      Nevertheless, he was delaying the actual representation, for he felt he was not yet ready for it.
      He could feel lots of information waiting for him to download them and process them. But he wanted to do it with clarity.

      Last try had not been very convincing… He had dreamt of a midget Tina, in a flowing mauve and lemon chiffon dress. Of course, in the dream he had taken great care of not hurting her feelings, all the more since she seemed so fond of the dress. He couldn’t really tell her that the dress was giving her an enormous butt and that she was rolling her hips comically when she was walking… Impossible…
      While dream-Al was searching for words to truthfully convey his appreciation of whatever little thing that could be left to appreciate on that dress, dream-Sam had been quick to tell dream-Tina she looked like fairy Nuf. What had he said! She soon started to weep noisily. Fairy Nuf, as anyone knew, is a purple-clad plump grumpy fairy, with a pointy hat and she couldn’t possibly look that bad.
      Speak about clarity…

      Al tried again to concentrate. Taking deep breathes.

      He could feel more and more clearly the presence of the woman. Her aura was beckoning, and she seemed to want to share information with him —pieces of information he would be free to tell others or not, it didn’t matter.
      What mattered was that there was this deep desire for this information which was coming from him; and equally as deep as his, her own desire to share was palpable.

      Salome ” he whispered “ I am ready to see
      He soon started to fall into another lucid dream…

      #890

      The Council room was silent but the energy was tense and electric.
      Nareena and Noraam were reading an energy ball from their peers on the Murtuane’s Kandulim shore. There had been an uprising of the Zentauras concerning exactions committed by what could be called a rebel faction of the Guardians. They had no name to call them, and they were invisible to their search, through their inner vision or other devices.
      The Gates were concerned by this behavior amongst their kin, especially since they would soon face a difficult choice in their evolution and society. Keliom had warned them since the beginning many years ago when it was just speculations, when they were needing a source of power so intense that it was against their knowledge to even believe in it.
      But the source had been found. It was through an unexpected mean. And now…

      This is unacceptable from our kind Noraam. The Council should decide something to get rid of these culprits.

      You know that it is against our customs. And especially, Sinadron and Keliom wouldn’t allow it and you know their influence over the others.

      I also sense that you are not comfortable with the idea either…

      Nareena sighed with resignation.

      I wonder how far would they have to go before we decide to do something. It is something to disregard the other races, but it is another to tease them and attack them. It is not even a matter of really wanting to hurt them, I feel a deliberate desire to make them angry against us, and I wonder who among us would want that.

      Noraam looked at her, intrigued. He saw the face of a man, a vautruche on his left shoulder. The only one of them who would want a vautruche as a pet. These animals were so unpredictable that one could think they were a vicious species, but they were expressing qualities such as determination and swiftness that were also somewhat desirable, and he could understand that. They were really fascinating with their moving colors. Depending on their mood, their skin was quickly changing, pulsing, irradiating, glazing, hypnotic, or just dark and unnoticeable.

      Do you really mean what I briefly saw, Nareena?

      She blushed before his twinge. I don’t trust him, and he makes me feel very uncomfortable. She wouldn’t admit to him that she was sensing some sexual attraction from him, and to him, but she couldn’t accept it as his energy was mostly repulsing and the thirst of power she could glimpse in his eyes was simply frightening.

      No, I don’t like Sinadron .

      #1801

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        few spider synchs – the other night I had a vivid dream of a spider, a large one with a funny symbol on it’s back. I found it in my ice-cream and was trying to catch it in a small plastic jar. Then I decided I must search the icecream to see if there were any more spiders. The icecream parted in the middle and changed texture, resembling the texture of a spider’s nest. When I woke up I read Eric’s new comment

        I had been planning to add a spider comment to the tifikijoo island thread and was had a particular comment in mind. The next time I looked at the story site, the comment I had been thinking of came up as the random quote

        Franiel thread , where I talked about the messenger birds Fincheons and introduced a motorbike – I wrote this directly before going to my hairdresser. As he was talking he told me he had always wanted a motorbike. He had to leave me for a few minutes to move the motorbike of another client which was blocking the access way. He also told me he’d had an unusual bird incident, a fantail had on two separate occasions circled his head, freaking him out rather. The maori believe this bird is a messenger bird, some believe it is an omen of death, others that it is an omen of good-luck … well whatever it is regarded as a messenger. Another synch with the comment; the fincheons are grey birds, the fantail found commonly in NZ is the grey fantail

        A couple of synch numberplates today: EAGL 1 and EGY221

        #864
        Jib
        Participant

          Sam was having a weird dream in which he was having a romantic relationship with Becky after having influenced Sean in a slippery sleepy slope.
          As the vision was developing itself, it appeared that they obviously had loads of children, like 7
          :yahoo_whew:
          Some of them were energies he was already familiar with, some he had glimpsed during Becky’s broadcast the other day.
          Some others were newly added to this dimension and Becky and him were gladly offering them an entry point, so to speak… and there was the potential for a few more.
          Sam smiled, because in wanting so bad not having these children, Becky were adding more fuel to this probability :) no matter who the father was. She may have been struggling with it, but it was one of the main point of her focus.

          #854

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

          That’s funny you say that, said Franiel recovering his marbles after a bit of an aghast moment. This name sounds oddly familiar… Is… he a talking parrot?
          Oh, yes of course, said Phoebe Chesterhope, though that’s not the least of its particularities she added with an eerie smile on her thin wrinkled mouth.
          The others, you said she snapped back, her gaze suddenly sharp as a sword. I suppose you’ll meet them, unless you’ve got already.
          I’m not sure to know what you’re talking about, Milady said Franiel slightly perplexed.
          Oh well, I can see from the clothes you are wearing that you’re coming from a place of peace and sainthood. This place is a haven too, in many ways. This place has been kept as such since a few centuries, and I intend it to stay that way. Though the Others are devising ploys always more clever to have a hand on this place. For that, I know how to keep a keen eye on what’s happening, she said with a troubling wink to her parrot.
          The valley is surely a nice place, said Franiel not sure of what he should say.
          To the contrary. It’s full of marauders if you ask me, but for good reason. Uleÿa’s valley is a place not easily reached, and there are not many portals around here. No official ones at least… So in a sense, it’s an exchange of good will between me and them.

          Franiel was not sure he wanted to delve more into all this intricate political web of alliances and plots, no more than he wanted to be involved in religious beliefs and fanaticisms…

          I can see you are a little troubled, but you’ll find your place in all these events, assuredly, Phoebe said gently. But be certain that whenever you are wanting yourself out of them, you sure will find yourself right in the midst of them, without you even knowing it.
          I only want to be a good man, and do the least evil in this World, I suppose finally answered Franiel after an awkward moment.
          This, I am sure is true… You know, I’m a little bit of a witch, I mean, intuitive person, and I can pick up images from yourself. I’m not sure about some of them, but most of them are as clear as the waters of Uleÿa. Take your time to feel at home around here. Vincentius will answer you if you need anything, in any case better than Lydia or Derwent.
          But… I mean no offense here, dear Lady,… Vincentius is but a parrot, isn’t it?

          Phoebe sighed for a moment then took Franiel by the arm, so quickly and firmly he didn’t see it coming, and couldn’t move, hypnotised by the firm grip of the woman.

          Listen carefully, my friend. I can see you can be trusted, as much as your mind is thirsty for the truth, so I will tell you. Vincentius is no mere creature. He’s the result of a little experiment I had once with a former guest of mine. Another divine being, as pure and innocent as you, going by the same very name of this creature. I captured a spark of his radiant aura, and mixed it with an egg I had kept for the occasion. And so it was born. A perfect spy, as well as a faithful friend.

          Franiel recoiled in horror… What have you done?!

          Oh, don’t be so dramatic, my young friend Phoebe said with a little giggle. No one has been harmed, and even if at times, there seem to be some side-effect when my former guest seems to see or speak through my parrot, it all has gone very well… And no, I don’t intend to do it to you… Don’t give me silly ideas, ahahah.

          #847

          Becky’s heart was racing and her breath was coming in short rasping breaths. I need to change probabilities, and I need to do it fast! There’s not a moment to lose.

          Maybe I can change the past, she thought, change it to a probability in which I didn’t marry Sean in the first place. Oh Lordy, but how do I do that exactly? Her head was spinning.

          Maybe I should just run away, now, pack my bags and disappear before Sean gets back from the bar.

          No, that won’t do, she said, biting her lip in consternation. I want to keep the wedding presents, especially that YouDo doll.

          Becky rummaged through the pile of magazines, looking for the script of the Reality Play. Oh dear god, if I change probabilities Al and the others will kill me, it will make such a mess of the threads.

          Becky was distraught. What shall I do! she exclaimed, wringing her hands.

          BREATHE, a deeply resonant female voice said. BREATHE into YOU, that’s right, BREATHE…..

          Becky stopped wringing her hands and drew a shaky breath.

          That’s right, the voice continued, BREATHE into YOU…..

          Becky took another deep breath.

          BREATHE…..

          Oh for heavens sake, Becky interrupted rather rudely, That’s enough of that blimmen breathing for now, thank you very much, now bugger off, I need to think.

          The voice in her head changed to a masculine one, that said with a chuckle, “THINKING” is absolutely FATAL, my dear, just DO what ever is easiest for YOU.

          You mean, do whatever I want, and bugger everyone else? asked Becky. Wouldn’t that be a bit inconsiderate? I mean, don’t I have a responsibility to the others?

          HAHAHAH, you are funny, said the voice. Did all that Seth and Elias stuff go in one ear and out the other?

          What Seth and Elias stuff? Haha, just kidding, of course I remember it all. Reading about it and actually DOING it, well, they are two different things……her voice trailed off, and she frowned, deep in thought.

          Thinkin’ aint doing, said the voice.

          #841

          Jarvis was dozing in a dark corner of the kitchen. He was dreaming of bees, he had been assigned to the bee keeping a few weeks ago, just after the “incident”. He was one man the Dr could trust. In a previous life, he was keeping bees as a family business. But an accident with the bees led to his dismissal by his uncle. A regrettable accident, too much smoke, too much dead bees. Jarvis had been thinking of a sabotage, surely he had been framed but as he was thinking of quiting this poor paid job, it was also a perfect occasion.

          He had been engaged as a security agent… sort of. He had to pretend to be a gardener and not awake suspicion among the others. The funny thing is that he had soon been contacted by another organization, and had been offered quite a good price. All he had to do was observe and dream. Unfortunately, the man, Claude, who had approached him was disguised as a patient… and he had disappeared after the “incident”. Since then Jarvis had been having strange dreams of mummies, magpies, there was even one with 3 eyes 2 nights ago :yahoo_waiting:

          The light was turned on abruptly. Someone was arriving, still hidden by the tables and shelves.
          With the sound of the heels on the tiled floor, that was a woman… or the Doctor.
          A little twinge told him not to let him be noticed yet. He moved his head silently in a position from which he could see who it was.
          Oh! that big athletic woman, Vasse.
          Claude had told him about her. Jarvis had to be very cautious, because she was of another organization… another :cat_confused: he was calling her agent V. Well Jarvis wasn’t curious enough to ask any further detail, there were already too much to remember.

          She was doing something with a little jar of a brown substance, and brought a spoon full at her mouth. Her sudden coughing and spitting almost made him fall off his chair. But hopefully with all the noise she hadn’t noticed. Mumbling, she was heading toward the fridge. Was she possibly aware of…

          Yes! she was taking the plate with the honeycomb… he’d have to move quickly.
          As she was considering the modified honeycomb, he realized that she was about to eat it. So she didn’t know. :-? He had to warn her.

          — I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, Agent V…

          #836

          Anita was playing with her new friend.
          The Snoot, it had told her was its name. The Snoot was very ancient, very curious tooo.
          The Snoot was asking loads of question, though they weren’t formulated with words, because the Snoot wasn’t speaking. It was too slow for the Snoot.

          Nonetheless she was giggling, distracted from the preoccupations of Akita and the others.

          #828

          What really was Salitre’s mound? For most people around this valley, who had forgotten about the old times, it was nothing more than a rocky and steep piece of earth, barely good enough for Barbary sheep and piglets.
          In fact, when you were coming from the new macadamized roads encircling the mountains, it could almost slip unnoticed. But when, like Granny Mosca, you knew the paths for having worn countless shoes walking on them, you could no longer ignore the towering presence of this place.
          For her, it was a magical realm, a doorstep truly.

          Granny Mosca was the official owner of this place, though she preferred to think of it as being the gatekeeper.
          She kept a few animals up there, and went everyday here to feed them, pacing up and down the treacherous paths despite her old age.

          Something you couldn’t really realize until you first reached the top of the mound was that the mound was at the center of the valley, giving an impressive view miles and miles around. In that land of mountains, it could be just another peak among others, but when you were here, you knew it wasn’t.
          Granny Mosca had felt it many times, this surge of energy, almost as if there were streams flowing down the surrounding slopes, up to the top of Salitre’s mound. At special times of the year, it was like you could feel the dwellers of the past moving around… At this very spot were almond trees were now growing.

          Those tourists who came a few days ago where funny. Especially the blond woman, with the high-pitched laugh who had come a few times here already.
          For sure Granny Mosca didn’t fear that they discover anything, as the place had knew how to shroud itself without her for ages, even before she was born. In fact, it was the contrary. She was willing to share some of the secrets to people daring enough and open-minded enough to crack some of these nuts of wisdom.
          The land would tell them…

          That is… unless they left the bag of almonds to the dogs…

          #2022

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Within dark laughing, light smiled
            Wondering synchs gibbon
            Others behind walk
            Mind moment wondered
            connection stopped?
            Although
            Brought hand friends free.

            #2021

            In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              Himself, elizabeth AND A FEW OTHERS CROSSED THE water IN search FOR angels.
              SO THEY bought THE village A STONE dragon, AND gone THEY WERE, LEAVING AN able energy TO care FOR ITSELF AND OF etc.
              IN A box FULL OF CLUES, SOMEONE wanted FRESH IDEAS WAITING FOR hours sitting rather BLANKLY IN FRONT OF A page FOR idea TO SPRING LIKE lemon JUICE

              #825

              When he first witnessed how the traveling portals worked, Badul had been greatly impressed. No such magic existed on Asgurdy, and even though is was supposed to be a small portal, it was greater magic than anything his imagination could have devised.
              He and his crew were so much impressed that Badul had required his small crew to settle down so that they can study further the thing. Tomkin had frowned a bit, as he was eager to continue and above all to leave this uncharted district ruled by a fierce warlord (or “governor”, as it was required to address him) in a moistly forest miles away from any living creature, but then again, Badul’s orders were not to be discussed.

              The portal was constituted of a wide circle of heavy limestones, with two crossing arched vaults made of limestones too, with smaller blue stones incrustations of various shapes tucked into round holes regularly scattered along the vaults. These smaller stones could apparently be rearranged, and Tomkin and Badul quickly figured out they were used to determine the coordinates of the various places they would be traveling to. This portal, they’ve been explained had a set of other stones, ocher and dark red ones which were not part of the traditional set of the main network on the continent. Their design was not overly displayed as the others which were left on the portal at all times. They were carried on the spot by one of the generals of the local governor, and used under strict guidelines, for fear that the parallel network would be uncovered.

              It took Badul a dozen of hexades to relinquish his fear of the unknown magic that made people disappear and reappear in thin air. He was a brave man, and that which he could see with his own eyes was no longer deemed irrational. It was very real, and he could use it. And there was no point in delaying the experience of it, as it was the only way for him to conquer his turmoil.

              So, on that fine morning of the falling season, he decided to move. Genflik Thran, the local governor, had come to appreciate the help Badul and his men had provided him in loading and unloading the cargoes of goods which were banned on various parts of the Warring Kingdoms nonetheless traded on the black market with great benefits, and occasionally escorting them to some of the nearest villages. But the deal had been made clear from the start: he would allow Badul and his men to use the network in exchange of two hexades of service. In fact, they had repaid the debt largely already.
              So he agreed to let them go on their journey and provided him and and his crew enough supply to continue their trip for quite some days. And as a token of appreciation, he allowed Badul to choose his destination, a privilege that was rarely granted, as usually people where glad to take whatever ship was about to depart.

              Badul turned to Tomkin, wondering where they could go next.
              “There are a few villages I heard of” Tomkin said after having pondered, “in the valleys down Mount Elok’ram. I heard this place is the tallest of the World, and is full of ancient powerful magic. Perhaps we can go to one of these villages, as I don’t think there is any portal on the top of the mountains.”
              “Ahaha, yes, you’re right” had smiled Genflik Thran “I’ve been heard there is a monastery on top of this mountain, but no portal unless you go in the valleys. Not that they couldn’t have built one, but they thought it would soon become too crowded and… how did they said? Yeah, unholy… with the ease of a portal access. Now, perhaps that with the new Abbott, it will change… who knows. We already have approached him, and he seems a man with a nice sense of compromise, for the good of all, ahahaha!”
              “What’s this village called?”, asked Badul
              Chard Dut Jep “ answered Genflik Thran “I have a local contact there, a witchy woman, with some sense for business too, when you’re there, ask for her, people call her Madame Chesterhope. Just don’t forget to mention you are coming on my advise, or else the bitch might reserve you a trick or two of her own, ahahaha!”.
              To Chard Dut Jep then!” cheered Badul, and his crew echoed with him.

              #818

              Veranassessee was not in a happy mood.

              The sight earlier in the day of Dr Bronkelhampton wearing his yellow wig, a bright pink dress which was several sizes too large for him, and carrying a chinese porcelain doll had disturbed her profoundly. She sighed, remembering how he had glared at her suspiciously and muttered to the doll he was holding in front of him as though it were some sort of a shield.

              He has totally lost it, but what to do?

              She had also spent much of the morning trying to avoid Sha and Glor. The pair seemed rather distressed about something … a missing dress was it? Veranassessee shook her head in annoyance. Good grief! She had neither the time nor the patience to deal with another of their foolish and pitiful concerns.

              Perhaps I should tell those stupid nincompoops that to get hit on the head with a coconut is another special beauty treatment.

              To top it off, Agent Gabriel kept slipping into her thoughts in a most disconcerting and bothersome manner. And where the hell is he anyway? she thought miserably, cringing at the memory of their last encounter. Avoiding me, no doubt.

              Bugger! she swore, suddenly remembering the arrival of the new guests and feeling a growing sense of foreboding.

              :fleuron:

              Twenty minutes later the disturbing vision of a fat woman in a tiny pink bikini waving at her gleefully did nothing to dispel her concerns.

              #817

              How restless that dragon is, thought Arona. Always shifting this or that, always talking in his damn riddles. She thought fondly of Buckberry, and how peaceful and content he seemed by comparison.

              She was no longer sure where she was. She had gone over it a few times in her mind, but try as she might she could not make sense of Leormn’s cryptic explanations. Or that Malvina either, although at least she is a bit more pleasant about it.

              Anyway, wherever it is, it feels a bit grey, she decided matter-of-factedly. And I am missing the others, even that grumpy Mandrake if the truth be told.

              She closed her eyes and began to paint colours over the grey. She was not sure what to paint at first, so she just dabbed bright blobs of colour haphazardly onto her mind’s canvas. The colours began to run into each other and form shapes and it it seemed to her they wanted to take on a life of their own. So she let them, and it was not long before she found herself in a meadow of spring flowers.

              That’s much better, she thought, taking a deep breath and lying back in the soft green grass.

              :fleuron:

              As she lay there her mind drifted sleepily, butterfly thoughts every now and then resting on some bright petal in her field of flowers.

              Just living is not enough, said the butterfly as it danced by her head, one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower.

              Oh! said Arona excitedly, recognising the words from a far away time, You must be the butterfly of the story! The one my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl in the Village.

              Perhaps I am! danced the butterfly and it whirled and twirled and swirled in the sky.

              Arona rolled her eyes in exasperation. Now you sound a bit like that wriggly dragon. A simple yes or no would suffice.

              The butterfly landed on her nose. Now listen here you! Don’t go blaming me. I am YOUR imagination!

              Oh good point Butterfly, said Arona graciously. She pondered a moment … Well in that case …

              And next moment Mandrake, Vincentius and Yikesy were sitting in the meadow with her.

              Oh THERE you are Missy, said Mandrake. Might have known you would be lying around in some spring meadow leaving Vincentius and myself to look after your little sprog. Tsk Tsk, he tutted.

              hmmm, thought Arona, that’s not quite what I had in mind ..

              I would have said it’s exactly what you had in mind, whispered the butterfly, fluttering by her ear and then off again until it disappeared into the field of colours.

              Arona turned her attention to Vincentius and Yikesy, sitting a short distance away in the meadow. She noticed how smooth and golden Vincentius’ skin looked in the morning sunlight, and how deep and melodic his voice was as he told Yikesy one of his seemingly endless repertoire of stories. Imagining a gentle hug and a kiss on his sweet, but it had to be said incredibly ugly face, she sent Yikesy into a peaceful sleep.

              Oh great idea, smiled Vincentius with a wink. What I had in mind all along really. Perhaps you could also imagine Mandrake chasing a field mouse or something?

              #1760

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                More on pink, rats and passion fruits…

                Just to complete those flovely syncs, here are some others:

                • Yesterday I had the funniest dream about a big, hot pink, pet rat, which was wandering freely around (no way it could hide with such colours ahaha), and friendlily gnawing on my finger to show me he appreciated to be stroked… :yahoo_thinking:
                • The night before, I found I couldn’t sleep and was thinking of the last of the two pomegranates we had bought last week, and felt an impulse to do some grenadine syrup with it. It’s full of little seeds, and the juice is very explosive like little pink pixies… And it looks very similar to the “passion fruit” Francie was talking about… Passion, Easter eggleton etc.
                #813

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                The bird squawked and cast a steely gaze on Franiel.

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

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