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  • #3400

    If the sabulmantium was to be trusted, the beanstalk was a tangle of many paths, and the main and easiest accesses down its dangling twirly greenish tentacles were all outside of the city walls, in a zone where some lords managed to rule pockets of mass beliefs and a bunch of unattractive mongrel mobsters.

    “Sounds potential adventure material” Mandrake had had the nerve to say when they’d packed.
    “No it isn’t” Arona had said.
    Then with more gusto “NO IT ISN’T” as though to convince all the sleepy tarts of the nymphouse below her rented room.

    More doubts had sunken their claws in her tender heart, and a gulp of whatever astral cup didn’t seem in hindsight a worthy deal for all her troubles. Nonetheless, she was a woman of her word, which was probably why she wasn’t of many. Too much trouble being of all of them, whatever that meant.

    “Honestly Mandrake, keeping you on track is worse than herding… dragons.”
    She would have said sheep, but she wasn’t so rude yet. Mandrake could have taken that too badly, and he would again prove useful to distract the guards of the Southern Post. That’s where she decided to go, as with all the heat, it had to be the one less guarded.

    Indeed, when she arrived, as planned, the gate was badly manned, and sleepy soldiers where reaching for the rare spots of shadow.
    She decided to make a run for it. The soldiers didn’t look very fit. She started to go, thinking about zigzagging between the air bottles littering the plaza, when she felt a tug pulling her back by the cloak, almost sending her flying off her butt.

    FUCK!” she shouted as silently as she could. “You again! I thought I told you not to follow me! Mandrake, attack! Go for the balls!”

    She was in a fury, but Mandrake licked his paw with a disgusted look on his face that meant “Hnhn, not going for that, sweetie. You’re on you own to herd that dragon, my lovely pooh.”

    “Shhht!” the guy said with a bit smile.
    “Don’t shush me, you… ninnyhammer!”
    She didn’t know where the last word came from, but they sure felt good, although not quite rude enough.
    “Oh, the lady is a pirate who knows her insults.” he answered with his cocky smile.
    “Don’t mock me, you mooncalf”
    “You were trying to sneak out, were you?”
    “Why do you care, hobbledehoy?”
    “The guards have aircon chain-mail and armours, see, look at those bottles on their backs… How could you beat them running with your heavy cloak?”
    “Maybe Mr Snollygoster has a better suggestion?”
    “Of course I have, if you care to follow me, Ms Mumpsimus.”

    Arona was almost speechless. Not keen on following any stranger, she asked her guts, and they seemed to have a liking for the handsome fellow. It stirred old remembrance of going with the flow tactics, and when she did actually follow him, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he and Mandrake were already ahead in one of the alleys.

    “Oh, no, let him have the keys to some secret tunnel, I won’t go for another sewer escape!”
    As if her guardien angel has heard her secret prayer, it happened that the stranger had some strange stone key in his bag, opening a secret wall entrance.

    “Oh.” was all she conceded to the stranger.
    Nonplussed he offered her his hand “George” he presented himself still with the same broad smile.
    She took his hand haughtily, and entered the vaulted tunnel, not telling him yet her name, in case she felt like choosing a sexy and mysterious code name. She could trust no one…

    “Traitor” she hissed at Mandrake who was purringly looking at the strangers’ boots.

    #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.

    #3370

    She was stroking the black cat who was complained loudly at the unwanted massage, when the messenger arrived at her door.

    “The King’s Chamberlain would like a word… in private” was all the footman had said.

    “Doesn’t look a slight bit suspicious to you?” the cat told her, shaking and licking the human scent off its fur.
    “Of course it does, don’t come if you don’t want to.” She replied smugly, wrapping her cloak around her despite the sizzling sun and the humidity.

    She followed the messenger, wondering what required such discretion.

    “A weighty matter indeed,” Downson said to her when she arrived at the rendezvous point under a vaulted passageway at a point where the sounds were cancelled out and voices could share deepest secrets in all discretion. “The P’hope has spies in many places… And at least I know of him, so he is not even the most dangerous one, I fear…”

    She was not of many words. Seeing that, the Chamberlain’s continued.
    “There are forces at play that conspire against the King’s rule.”
    She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
    “I know what you think, people should be self-governed, but you can see it another way, people’s leaders are also the expression of their beliefs. But never mind the philosophy… You are uniquely talented for a rescue mission.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know have powerful allies… tools,… and dragons too, if the tales are true…”
    She tittered softly. The tales were true, all of it except about the dragons being powerful allies for some rescue quest. Dragons were lazy dreamers, or at least the ones she used to know. She replied with magnanimity “Let’s assume I’m the person you need for this mission… What is my compensation for it… And don’t serve me platitudes about the travel being all that matters. That grumpy cat needs to eat.”
    The cat suddenly turned his eyes into the cutest kitty eyes he could do. It would have melted the heart of the most stone-hearted villain in an instant.
    Well played, Mandrake she winked at the cat telepathically.

    “Well, word has it that you are on a quest to astral, and maybe I could help with that.”
    “Continue…”
    “I could arrange an interview with the Fisher Count. As an entrusted Guardian of the Saint Amber Graastral Stone Cup, he could grant you a drink from it.”
    “Tell me more about whomever I’m supposed to rescue?”

    At the sound of footsteps, he stopped, and pushed her towards a column out of sight.

    “Oh, it’s only a cat” the soldier said, continuing his round unaware of the two.

    As soon as the other had left, Downson resumed his talk in hurried tone and quicker sentences.
    “I have good reasons to believe a young girl with great desire to prove herself was sent many years ago to the Fog Abyss as a rite of passage, but she was tricked and left for dead there. The magi who were supposed to protect her only said they had lost her. But something else happened. Last night, one of them came to me full of guilt. He was visited in a dream by an apparition of the young girl and her guardian angel. Something horrible had happened, but she told him she forgave him and that she was alive and well. You need to bring her back to us, and be discrete about it. Somebody wanted her dead and buried, and will stop at nothing to complete the task if they find out she’s alive.”

    Before the Chamberlain left, he turned back and told her:
    “Better be quick to leave, I shall have all that you require prepared for you. And a word of advise… you can trust no one, Arona.”

    #3367

    Irina turned to little Greenie, who had so far only communicated in body langage, and little more than grunts.

    “Dearie,” she took the little face in her hand to look her in the eyes. There was slight resistance in the girl’s, but she was compliant enough that the feedback encouraged Irina to continue. “I believe, you know how to talk, this grunting telepathic business is getting tedious, and Mr R isn’t telepathic, you see…”
    “But Madam…” Mr R’s beginning to protest was quickly hushed by Irina.
    “You understand, don’t you?… Yes you do. Communicate with me, okay? You’ve been there longer than I am, and we probably can help each other.”

    Greenie’s eyes were showing clear signs of intelligence, and yet, there was some trauma still at the surface that she seemed to process, which made interaction tricky.

    Greenie pointed at the place were Irina had tried to meditate for the past hours.
    “Oh no, not again…” she sighed. She sat again cross-legged, but this time Greenie wasn’t finished.
    “What is? What are you trying to tell me?” Irina was confused. She hoped it was not about praying, but then realized that Greenie wanted to join.

    So they sat in front of each other, with Greenie’s small palms pressed to hers, and again started to meditate.
    “Mr R, some music of the angels, if you will”

    After a while, Mr R’s lulling music managed to appeased even the confused Huhu, and Irina started to feel a difference, as though she had broken out of her mind, and could connect to the teen girl in their light bodies.

    #3365
    Jib
    Participant

      The room numbers were framed in a golden disc carved with what looked like zodiac animals and a circle of eights.

      Linda observed the man walking in front of her. As soon as the effects of the lust gas had dissipated, she had been able to focus on something else than his butt. He’d been watching over his shoulder, and it was not to see if she was keeping with his pace. He had been frowning ever since she’d met him, and you could say his whole attitude exuded wariness. Despite her Happiness Training and the meditation practice at night with Sadie, she was beginning to feel some bowel tension. Not good for her digestion.

      He stopped in front of room 57. He knocked, didn’t wait for an answer, instead used his magnetic key to open it, and entered. She followed. He looked one last time on both sides of the corridor, then locked the door.

      They were in a big yellow lounge. Linda addressed a silent prayer to the Good Taste Goddess, sympathizing with the pain She must have endured each time an interior designer had expressed such lack of sobriety. It wasn’t just the color. The furniture seemed to come from Hart to Hart, except the sofa was in a dark yellow leather, and the cushions in a bright magenta.

      “Wait here ‘till I call you”, he said. He left through a door on the right, taking his frown with him.
      Linda heard him talk to someone in the other room, certainly a bedroom. A feminine voice answered him. They argued for some time. The woman was the last to speak. Then the silence.

      Linda hesitated to seat on a jumping armchair with yellow and brown stripes. It was as if every cell of her body, and even the molecules of her clothes were repelled by the choices of the interior designer. She would have sworn her platform shoes were trying to levitate from the carpet.

      The man’s head appeared at the door.
      “Come in, she’s ready to see you.”

      Linda could see emotions struggle on his face.

      “But I warn you”, he said, his fists clenched, “she’s been sick since we have arrived. If my wife is tired, I’ll ask you to leave.”

      “Oh!” Linda said.

      #3347
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Continuing Irina and Mr R the Robot

        The mission of Irina to thwart the plans of Jonbert being complete, she asks out of the elusive Management scheme, and expects to cash in her promise of an island retirement plan.

        (As an aside, to those wondering what happened of the bitter Jonbert, after a change of heart, he follows the St Germain hologram through the portal to Peasland’s dimension. It would not be surprising to see him become new Majorburgmester)

        Irina is sent to a mysterious door, with the strong presentiment that there is a catch and it will send her in a time and place beyond her control.
        She jumps boldly through the door, not knowing what to expect of the promised island, but preferring that to a life of doing the Management’s biding, and trusting the support of Mr R.

        After she arrives on the island, with the help of the robot, she starts to improve her living conditions in the bog part of the island, where among strange relics of different timelines, she also finds a young bog mummy she nurses back to life and names Greenie due to her complexion.

        Meanwhile, we learn bits of Irina’s past, through the quest of a Chinese Corporation from her timeline of 2222, and it is strongly suspected that she stole Mr R, a unique robotic prototype with never seen before capacities.
        Having crossed Sanso’s path during her previous mission, Sanso becomes the target of the Chinese who hope to retrieve if not information, at least the location of the fugitives thanks to Sanso’s damsel-in-distress-saving fibre, even if fleeting and inconsistent.
        It proves a reasonable tactic, as Sanso (who was unwittingly tracked due to a sea cucumber tracker he previously ingested) led them to a map dancer in New York named Jeremy.
        Now, the Chinese leader of the hunt, Cheung Lok (張樂)has retrieved the map of the island, which shows strange exotic properties.

        The island, named Abalone by some of its inhabitants, shows some mysterious external properties, allowing it to appear on the Earth only at certain times and places (times such as years 111, 222, 333, etc.).

        Internal properties, yet to be discovered by Irina, and her companions are dream-like in nature. The island landscape is populated according to people’s individual beliefs, but it usually takes a long time for people to realise it (also known as “transition”).
        People can be coaxed out of their transition time, if they are open enough to allow external influences to show them out of their individual dream.
        Unusual objects for example can appear and are usually remnants of other’s dreams/beliefs, and are usually difficult to alter.
        It also cloaks other realities in the same space arrangement which are not compatible to the person’s beliefs.
        People can thus err believing to be alone for a long time, until positive anticipation leads them to social interactions, leading them usually to the city ruled by King Artie.
        King Artie, an eternal bachelor, is expected by his subjects to choose a Queen.

        #3340

        I’ve been such a fool! Running away like that! Fanella admonished herself, biting her nails and pacing up and down in her room. I wasn’t paying attention! I should have stayed with that funny man, now I feel sure he would have taken me to that island in 2121 if I had just been patient instead of running off like that!
        Fanella heard a man laughing, and spun around, but there was nobody there. Dear god, I’m hearing things now, she thought.
        “I’m coming to get you, you daft bint, just hang on and don’t go anywhere!” Sanso told her via telepathic means. “We have a few other calls to make as well, but I will come and fetch you first, even if I have to use every shoehorning trick in the book. Now stop sniveling and I suggest you dress appropriately.”
        Fanella started sobbing, unsure whether it was relief or apprehension.
        “There, there,” Sanso said kindly. “You have a good cry, it will do you good.”

        #3285

        Secretly, Sadie had a beautifully laid out plan in her head, like a vacation plan with stop-overs at luxury hotels, and activities to entertain the children.
        That made her slightly miffed about the succession of sidetrack adventures and the lack of focus of her protégés.

        The plan was simple enough, they had to take the magical crystal from under the whale’s noses, and get back to the closest Time sewer, where they could funnel up (her fancy verb for “complete”) the special reboot edition of the Time Draggler’s show.

        Surprisingly, Linda Paul’s interest and instructions seemed to have weakened and her usually generous and unwarranted input have been inordinately limited. Maybe the summer heat wave had mollified her, or her projects had shifted since the pilot of the Time Draggler’s show had failed to grab the network’s attention and fulfil its promises.
        She couldn’t say. But something in what the techromancer told her had stuck, and she couldn’t quite shake it out. “A train will come for you, and you will have to catch it, this Time is your train.”
        The hell if she knew what Time that was anyway.
        But one thing was sure, this one-time gig was growing on her, and she didn’t want to get back to dog food tasting. So one way or another, she’d have to make it work, and move the drag’s lazy butts to make a heck of an entertaining show.

        “Look! I vink vey’re over vere!” Maurana was getting the gist of the telepathic conversation.

        It was lucky the interior of the cave was lit, as outside the night had fallen like a cold black carpet on a pack of dust bunnies, dropping the water’s temperature. Luckily, the suits seemed to have their own warming as well as glowing mechanism.

        Terry was over Consuela, who seemed unconscious and in a REM sleep.
        “Hey! Consuela learnt your eye rolling technique!” Maurana gleefully tuned towards Sadie.
        “Don’t be silly, I think he’s in shock, pass me that electric eel, to wake that bitch up.” Terry was always for a bit of drama. It seemed to do the trick.

        “Woah, you can’t believe the stuff I’ve seen…” Consuela’s pupils were dilated so much it was hard to see the whites of her eyes.

        “Classic case of red algae intoxication, no need to consult the ezapper for that” Sadie said. “It is known that dolphins use it as a shamanic tool to astral. The concentration in these waters is surprinsingly high. Nothing than some fresh water can’t cure.” Too much time under water, she started to babble like a fish.

        The Time window wouldn’t stay indefinitely open. She needed to get them move, and take back her authority. With children like them, one thing that worked was to shake some shiny stuff in front of them and let them follow it.
        “Anyone interested in a Whale Queen’s Race?”

        #3283

        When Huhu arrived at his destination, Irina was sunbathing to the last rays of a big red gorgeous sunset that painted the waves in iridescent shades of purple.
        At the same time, the sun’s course had already started a new day on the shores of New Zealand, where her sister was living, and she surely would be thrilled. Long had she waited for the 2222-2-22 marker.
        Here, in Hawaii, they would still be in 2222-2-21, for a few more hours.
        Irina started to shiver. 22°C her watch read. As if she needed to be any more quirky about this date…

        “Good boy!” she said to the parrot, taking the key it was carrying. Huhu tittered in contentment, cracking some of the pistachios she fed him distractedly.

        She’d just received additional information from the Management. Elusive as usual, and leaving a great deal to interpretation, including the interdiction.

        They’d promised to get her her dream island as a retirement plan. Some said it was the original land of the mermaids (who used to have as much feathers as Rio Carnival’s samba dancers), right off Italy’s Amalfi’s coast. Among its perks, it boasted to incorporate 8 staff, and a private grotto — that, if anything else than her fine waist line, would surely entice Sanso into other steamy booty calls.
        She’d seen the pictures of the properties, her first thought though was that she needed to shoot the interior decorator. In short, it was almost her moral duty to get it, and change the decor. On the whole, she was convinced the island would do her good.

        So, when she looked back at the previous instructions to see how good she’d done on her mission’s objectives, she shrugged a little. She’d understood instinctively right when it was delivered that it was a clever cipher, especially given the late date shift. So she had reinterpreted the actual commands, and leisurely waited for the travellers to appear, and get comfy. By now, she was certain they trusted her telepathic commands well enough, so that solved the trust conundrum.
        Basically, she was a major proponent of her own interpretation of old Ho’oponopono rituals. Instead of the usual mantra “I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.” hers was a bit more straightforward and was around the lines of “Green sickness to you. Peace be with you, and bugger off.
        Said a few times with proper intonation and inner work, and it was know to her to alter dramatically any block or resistance into a great flow of pure unfettered energy. So she had adamant faith that all she needed to do to complete her mission was to focus on herself and solve the resistance within by letting go.

        The last message was short.

        22 the code * whale that * BO

        It could only mean one thing. 22 was a clever cipher meaning conundrum as in a catch 22, but also an obvious reference to the temperature. So it could only mean one thing: tamper with the code on the 22nd, and send it on the way to the whales, with a bug on it.

        “Mr R, please, fetch!”

        The discrete, yet always present robot caught the key with grace, and on her careful instructions, proceeded to alter the code of the key.

        Irina was enjoying herself immensely, and found it a pity nobody could witness her true genius. “The ones who’ll read that key later, well… they are in for such a wild goose chase!”
        The second part of St Germain’s encoded hologram was now ripe with wonderful and bewildering information about blubbits and the magic kingdom of Peasland with obscure and arcane references of magic numbers like 57, that would have anybody sane turn mad as a hatter in no time. Hopefully the whales would be immune to the nonsense, but probably not humans.

        Now was the final part of the plan.

        “Mr R?”
        “Madam?”
        “I hope you are ready for this delicate reinsertion mission. Do you still have that octopus suit of yours ready?”
        “Of course, Madam. Right away Madam.”

        #3281

        “Isn’t that the greatest thing about those underwater goggles”
        After the shark threat had vanished, Sadie had contemplated for quite some time her new-found underwater abilities, and how to shift the weight of her body gracefully underwater. And then, she realized she could roll her eyes in the most peculiar way, with the membrane of the transparent skin massaging her eyeballs in the most relaxing manner. She’d never felt so good about rolling her eyes, and that was saying something.

        “BrllllSssadiieeee” came the urging sound in bubbles and gurgles, with a hint of despair dragging her out of the lovely eyeball massage session. The underwater acoustics needed some fine-tuning, so she had her wits to thank for understanding quickly the situation.
        Despite what might have looked like her sending messages on her ezapper, at the same time she was having in-her-body experiences, she was merely testing experimental echo-localization to pinpoint the spot where the pod of whales would be most likely found. The feedback buzzing had prompted her minutes ago that it had found 6 potential spots, and one only which was the most probable and located less than an hour’s diving distance. One thing she knew was that you had to be careful with automatic location instructions, so she’d run a second independent check and was waiting for the results when the alarmed look of Maurana turned and rolled in front of her face, almost giving her a fright.

        “Gbbbllood gracious, Maurana, what’s the matter?”
        “Gbblbl wooohoooglllbb bbbllrsfffftt plk plk plk skwooobbll!”

        “Oh, for fucks sake,” she telepathied “will you stop nattering in French, be more articulate.”
        “The others are drowned and I no longer see them, it’s awful, what should we do?!” the thought came back with force and a bit of campiness.

        “Well, that would depend what it is you want” straight answers were not Sadie’s forte.
        “I want to have our party with costumes and dances, I want to be the black pearl of the Ocean, I want to have more glitter and less molluscs, more chic and less kelp…” she started to sob profusely, half-choking and breathing from her tears. “I want my friends, and to be back hooooome”
        “Bloody hell, Reggie, now is not the time to lose your shit, pull yourself together dammit.”

        The reaction was immediate, the telepathic swearing was so out-of-the-ordinary that Maurana looked twice at Sadie, with her bob cut surrounding her face like a heavenly halo. Suddenly self-conscious, Maurana started to reapply some waterproof mascara to cover the stains.

        “I found them,” said Sadie with infectious calm “the ezapper’s first scan took them for a pod of whales or octopi for some reason. Let’s go get them, then we go visit the whales. But first, you have to try this, it will soothe you…”, as she started to show some more rolling motion of her beautiful blue eyes.

        #3268
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          This one is not a Lemone quote but could have been.
          It’s from a series called Perception (S03E05)

          Daniel: Think of your life as a story. Actually, you already do.
          fMRI studies show us that following a story, a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end causes our brains to release cortisol and oxytocin.
          These chemicals give us the uniquely human ability to connect with someone, even a total stranger, and empathize. In other words, stories are what we use to find meaning in our lives.
          Now, imagine for a moment that we lived without the understanding that our story must eventually end.
          What if our lives were as infinite as the universe, if the ticking clock never stopped?
          What would our story be then? Would we… still love? Or care?
          Would those tiny, fleeting moments that mean everything… Mean anything at all?

          #3266

          When Lisa eventually came out of her altered state, she was tired and perplexed. The last words she had heard had been “ 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.” How depressing! she thought. How unutterably depressing! If nothing was important, then what was the point ~ of anything? If being led astray wasn’t an opportunity for another voyage of discovery, then what was the point? If everything was wrapped up and tidy with no mysterious paths to explore, then where did Story fit into the picture? A dull story indeed with no tentacles.
          “We may as well just go home and water the garden. Come on Mirabelle.” Lisa’s shoulders sagged dejectedly and she sighed deeply.
          “Oh no, not so fast! This doesn’t sound like you, Lisa! Has someone put a spell on you? Snap out of it!” Mirabelle considered whether slapping Lisa soundly would help break the spell, but decided to throw some bottled water in her face from a safe distance instead.
          The shock of it, welcome actually, cool and revitalizing, made Lisa laugh at the absurdity of ~ well, everything.
          “Oh fuck it, we may as well go and get some octopus tapas while we’re here. Let’s just pretend we’re ordinary people on an ordinary holiday and go to the beach.”

          #3262

          After they’d jumped in the robot (which had shapeshifted into a sand buggy big enough for them), they had to cling tight to the railing of the light vehicle, as the robot was driving recklessly into a jungle of unexpected leaves and green vegetation tentacles.
          It wasn’t long before they were back on the gorgeously rugged Hawai’ian beach, taken on an unexpected dune racing along the coast.
          The queens looked exhilarated, but Sadie was a bit overwhelmed, especially after what the Techromancer had told her.

          The wetsuits fitting session passed in a blur, as the breathable elastic material was made to adapt to their bodies. Really, the only thing left to choose would have been color, but it was able to change itself at will, with very little shades it couldn’t replicate to perfection, even the Bollywood shine and twinkle that was all the craze in the 2019s.

          “But we’re in the 2222s now!”, Maurana had voiced her disapproval of her choice of glittery fashion. Little did Sadie care about it. Her mission seemed to stretch to sidetracks and unneeded distractions on her path to Great Happiness.

          All four of them clad in their fancy bathsuits and looking more like hippy frogs than sassy mermaids, they followed the robot on the miles-long deck that led to the horizon.

          After half an hour of walking on the narrow bridge, they were at a good distance from the coast and Terry started to pant and breathe heavily in her green sardine scales costume.
          “Stop! I got to catch my breathe, how long it’s going to be now? We were promised a soirée! Not a walk on the wild side!”

          The robot, rolled back a few steps, and turned briskly.
          “Actually, Sir, this is a perfect spot for your whale training”

          And before they realized, the robot had opened the deck under their feet, plunging all of them in the ocean screaming.

          Thanks to her excellent training and natural sharp reflexes, Sadie was the first to realize a few things.

          • They were all alive
          • They were able to breathe underwater
          • Their suit enabled them to talk and understand each other in what sounded like whale-speech.
          • A looming shape was quickly closing on them, looking dangerously like that of a giant toothy white shark.
          • Her mind was a mysterious thing.

          Why? Simply because the previous thought was coinciding with another one which was saying unequivocally that she still hadn’t found a proper dragqueen’s name for herself, and yet another one, even more funny than all others, saying in between bursts of infectious laughter that her last words could well be whale speech, and would make a hell of an epitaph.

          She floated for a time moment stretched into an eternity, weighing all the rippling probabilities and wondered what her next move would be, as she was in the void of creation, hovering under a vortex of thoughts, with a sea of twinkling stars beckoning her further down the ocean’s clear bottomless depths.

          #3253

          “Raining?! At this time of year?” cried Lisa in alarm. “I will have to rethink my packing now!”
          Using her telepathic skills, Lisa was pretty certain that Frank and Molly were in Lisbon ~ and that they had been the ones who had stolen the whale vomit tile. Packing her case quickly and booking a flight, she was almost ready to set off to track them down. She remote viewed them again before setting off, and spotted them on a bridge near the Belen Tower, slick with rain.
          Mirabelle, grab an umbrella, and get in the car. A change of scenery will do you good. No arguments!”
          What a bossy cow, thought Mirabelle, and they call ME a bossy tart!

          #3245

          Sadie stared for a long silent moment at the odd looking guy, wondering how whatever he could say could help her on her path.

          She was about to decide it was a fruitless quest and leave the girls waiting behind have a crack at him, which would be easy given his desperate lack of style and fashion and need for a manicure. But then, the techromancer broke his meditative silence and said in a very loud voice:

          GOOD day to you! You KNOW very well you are only going to get an ANSWER if you ask your QUESTION, and that getting back without asking it, is not ACTING on your EXCITEMENT. So, what is your STORY, HERE in the 2222 NOW?”

          #3213
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Determined to land the balloon (or more precisely, the balloon basket which the key had fortuitiously not fallen out of) on the decks of the Santa Rosa, Pseu sent an urgent telepathic call out to any dolphins in the vicinity. “Six landies in the water, keep them afloat!”

            #3210
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              – 346:
              RICHARD: I guess I have a question about incarnations or parallel realities. Do humans experience focuses as other species, and specifically dolphins? ‘Cause I had an experience with a powerful hallucinogen at one time, that I was actually remembering of a time when we were all — or I and other people that I was with — dolphins. I mean, it sounds crazy!

              But then as I’ve been reading about it, I heard about this tribe in South America, where you mentioned I had a previous focus. It’s an area where there are these pink dolphins that actually are said to be able to shift their body structure. It sounds crazy, but I’ll just throw it out there anyway! They change their appearance and come out of the water basically, and then go back. The tribe that lives there protects these dolphins. If anybody goes anywhere near them trying to harm them, they will kill them, and it’s out of love, not anger.

              I’m just very intrigued by this particular species of dolphins. I’m just wondering, ‘cause I really had a close … I mean, I had an experience where I thought I was breathing … I mean, I was under the water in a hot tub for five minutes! So it was just because of my belief system, maybe, that I was not needing to breathe air anymore? (Pause) I guess that’s a question! (Laughing)

              ELIAS: Very well. This … you may not be discounting yourself in this in your questioning, and not holding fearfulness with myself that I shall view this as an inconsequential question, for in actuality, this is an interesting question.

              Early within the onset of these sessions, I offered information to this particular species, and that species which you term to be whales in this physical dimension. I have expressed that creatures within this dimension do not hold essence, but are created by you, which IS essence, although they are consciousness. But I have also expressed previously that these two particular species of creature within this dimension have moved into an area of assuming essence.

              Now; at the time framework that I was discussing this physically with individuals previously, this action had not yet occurred, but was very close, as I was expressing. Within this present now, this is accomplished, that these particular creatures are also an expression of essence, and choosing to be manifest within this dimension NOT in the physical form of your species.

              Now; as to the addressment of these particular creatures in this area of South America and your myths surrounding these creatures, these are not myths, they are not stories, and they are not what you term to be imagination.

              In the experimentation of manipulating consciousness to be creating of essence, these particular creatures engage the action altering form, allowing the connection of the physical manifestation of essence within this dimension to be holding an accurate understanding and empathic sense of your species and to be creating of a connection physically, a knowing, but also recognizing that the choice is not to be manifest as essence in the form of your species, but to be manifest in this other species.

              Now; within this present now, all of the species of this particular creature — dolphins, and also your whales — are manifestations of essence, unlike all of your other creations of creatures within this dimension.

              This opens the window for much misunderstanding. Therefore, I shall clarify, for this is not to say that your creatures are lesser than you. They are different, for they are a creation of you. They are not essence. They are your creations, but they also are, in a manner of speaking, a part of you, just as your finger is not your entire body, but it is an element of you. Your dogs or your elephants are an extension of you. They are a creation of yours. Your dolphins and your whales are not. They are their own expression. They are their own essences.

              RICHARD: And now, they’re creating their own realities.

              ELIAS: Correct.

              RICHARD: So then that has come about recently and will be a notable, dramatic change.

              ELIAS: Correct.

              In this, you have allowed yourself a similar experience in allowing yourself to empathically experience these other manifestations of essence, allowing yourself the experience of the dolphin in like manner to those particular dolphins which have offered themselves the experience of your species.

              RICHARD: But when they did that, that experience, that was before they were essence. Wouldn’t that be a creation of our consciousness at that time, that caused them to take on a human form?

              ELIAS: No! This has been their choice as consciousness, moving in the direction of creating essence for themselves within consciousness.

              In that, they have created their experimentation with form within this dimension. This was an element of their choice, to experiment in their exploration of whether they shall participate within this dimension in similar form to you, or continue to manifest within the form they have chosen but incorporating essence. Therefore, there has been a time framework of experimentation of shifting shape.

              Now; within this present now, this continues, but not for the same reason. This continues occasionally as a playful act, for they hold the knowing — unlike yourselves — objectively that they hold the ability to shift shape.

              You also hold the ability to be creating this, but you do not offer yourselves the objective knowing of this. Therefore, you do not manifest this.

              RICHARD: How? How do we do it?

              ELIAS: Ha ha! (Grinning, and laughter)

              #3209
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                Sadie had been giving Linda Paul’s strange suggestion some thought. Was Linda Paul drinking again? she wondered. She had heard the rumours at the Happiness Academy about how he used to frequent the bars, tittering to himself, and apparently trying to telepathically freak out other bar patrons.

                #3202

                The three maids waited in the balloon for most of the night, in increasing agitation. Mirabelle’s face was like thunder, imagining Igor ravishing the Breton wenches as they slept in their beds. As is often the case during a long tense wait in the black of night, the maids thoughts turned increasingly murderous, worry transposing to anger and thoughts of vengeance.
                The truth was that the Russians were having a great deal of difficulty finding any food. The peasants were starving and there was nothing to steal. Dreading returning to the balloon empty handed, they continued the fruitless search.
                Meanwhile Pseu was leisurely perusing ceramic tiles in the Locmaria quarter, unaware of the difficulties of the Russians.
                Eventually, the three men returned to the balloon, with nothing to show for their nights escapades. Mirabelle snorted derisively, resisting the urge to slap Igor.
                “It’s getting light” said Boris, “We really must leave now, food or no food. Let’s go!”
                The balloon rose just as the sun was casting a pinkish glow and the river mists were rising in ghostly wisps.

                ~~~

                Exhausted from lack of sleep, the occupants slept, taking turns to stay awake. Fanella was on the first watch, shivering and grumpy with hunger. Surreptitiously, she gobbled down a few foul tasting handfuls of lard. When it was Adeline’s turn to keep watch, she had a similar idea, and likewise swallowed some greasy globs of lard, thinking, as Fanella had done, that a few handfuls would not be missed. When the others took their turns on the watch, they also had similar ideas, erroneously assuming that nobody else had thought to do the same. By lunchtime, when they’d all had sufficient sleep, there was not a great deal of lard left. A dramatic and judgemental argument ensued with everyone accusing each other of monumental stupidity, but as Boris wisely pointed out, they were all equally to blame.
                “But we’re over the sea now, and we’re losing height!”
                Uh oh, said Pseu to herself. I can increase the wind speed to hurricane force, but that might be a bit too risky. Or I can allow the wind to resume it’s prevailing westerly course, but that wouldn’t help, they’d end up back where they came from and that would be catastrophic.
                “Perhaps I can help” whispered Belen telepathically. “If you think you can land the balloon on my decks.”
                It would be a tricky landing, but there was no other option. Quickly Pseu worked out the likely coordinates of the ultimate descent and beamed them to Belen.
                “The homing parrot will help” added Belen. “Follow the bird and adjust the wind direction accordingly.”

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