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  • #702

    There was a tantalizing scent of wildflowers and meadowgrass in the still cool air of the cave, and as Sanso rounded a bend in tunnel a gentle breeze ruffled the folds of his robes. He quickened his pace, gladdened by the welcome promise of an adventure outside of the endless labyrinth. The air felt cool and warm at the same time, and deliciously fresh and clean as it wafted towards him, and with a feeling of immense joy, he heard a snatch of birdsong.

    It seemed like many long years that he’d been trudging around in the gloom and the stale air of the caves, although he suspected it wasn’t as long as that. Time played tricks on him, he knew that, while he was wandering around in the darkness. He’d missed Arona, and that strange baby, when he’d first set off alone again, but not for long. He knew when it was time to move on, and so he’d left them. From time to time he wondered if he’d encounter them again, and knew he would.

    A shaft of sunlight spilled into the tunnel and Sanso stepped out into the light. The breeze was fluttering the birch leaves high above him, as he squinted up at the pale blue sky. Grinning happily, Sanso took his time adjusting to the light. He sat cross legged on the soft green grass, feeling it springy beneath his hands. Hundreds and thousands of red and yellow spotted toadstools stretched out as far as he could see, carpeting the forrest floor with polkadots of colour.

    Sanso looked down at his hands. The creases of his skin and under his nails were engrained with reddish dust, and he wanted water more than anything, gurgling bubbling fresh clean water. He stood up, and shook his robes a bit, and set off into the woods.

    Intuition told him which way to go to find water. He marvelled at tiny flowers, and scampering insects along the way, squashing fungi beneath his bare feet which oozed up through his toes with little squeaky noises.

    A rabbit ran accross his path and stopped momentarily to stare at him and Sanso laughed out loud.

    Oh! Who’s there?

    A girl in bright flowered skirts was sitting on the grass in a clearing just ahead, rubbing her eyes.

    Whoa, I must be dreaming, she said, and rubbed her eyes again. She peered at the apparition in indigo robes, with skin the colour of tobacco and wild matted hair. Am I dreaming? she asked Sanso.

    Perhaps, perhaps not, replied Sanso, who wasn’t really sure. I may be dreaming myself. My name is Sanso, anyway, what’s yours?

    Zhana, the girl replied, Well, Uncle Grishenka calls me Zhanochka, but I…but I….I hate him, and I’m not going back! And much to her surprise, she burst into tears.

    Sanso was momentarily non-plussed, and wondered what to do next.

    Well, dear, if you don’t want to go back, why, then don’t go back! He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was; after all, he’d been wandering for so many years on impulse and whim he hardly knew any other way to go about it.

    I don’t know where to go instead though, Zhana said tearfully. The long dark cold will be here again soon, and I must have shelter somewhere…..who will have me, besides Uncle Grishenka?

    What long dark cold? asked Sanso. It seemed light enough and warm enough here.

    Oh, my! Zhana was astonished. You ask me what long dark cold? Where have you come from? How is it you don’t know of the long dark cold? Oh! Are you from Nishanti’s place?

    Zhana stood up in some considerable excitement. Can you take me to Nishanti’s place? Oh please say yes!

    Well, I, er, um…..well, I suppose so. Well, yes! Sanso didn’t want to let the girl down, although he wasn’t altogether sure he knew where Nishanti’s place was. But he was game to give it a try, and the company of the girl would be a welcome change.

    Tell me about Nishanti, then, Zhana, and what her place is like. Sanso was hoping a few clues might ring a bell, perhaps.

    Nishanti has been my friend for as long as I can remember, Zhana said. We dream together mostly, well, Zhana blushed, Uncle Grishenka says it’s all in my head…he say’s it’s nonsense….

    Zhana squared her shoulders and carried on. Sanso had a kind look, and nodded encouragingly.

    She hardly wears any clothes, and her skin is warm and brown. The sun always shines and the sky is always deep blue in her place and we play outside all year long. There’s always warm ripe fruits to eat, not turnips and noodles, colourful juicy berries and plump pink fishy things, and there are flowers all year long, and the water isn’t frozen, we can play in the water and it doesn’t turn our hands blue…..

    Ah, the other side of the world…hhhmmm…..Sanso rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully.

    Ok, I can’t promise we can find Nishanti, but I think we can find the other side of the world. But first, I’d like to find some water, and perhaps a little fresh food?

    Zhana whooped with delight, and flung her arms around Sanso. Yes, yes!

    #687

    Kay wasn’t sure about what happened after that.
    Akita was laughing, a slow and deep laugh. His face was changing oddly as his energy was generating different speeds and movements.
    And Anita was laughing too and speaking about a big pink pig, melting around Akita.
    That’s when Kay began feeling the difference in energy. The 4 other essences were observing with a strong interest what was hapenning to the man, and other essences were arriving… so many of their attentions here, the place was quite crowded and Kay was beginning to feel overwhelmed. All the surrounding area was oscillating dangerously.
    It was like a hole in the veils between the dimensions, and it was frightening Kay.

    Kay took his decision quickly. He jumped. Bit Akita’s leg.

    The sharp pain was apparently enough to stop whatever was happening.
    Akita was shouting, swearing with rage, and that was familiar and reassuring to Kay.
    Whatever it was, Kay would not let it happen again, and the spiders were not involved. Nothing to do with their energy.

    #1655

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Speaking of frogs, there was one sync yesterday, as I saw that
      (the news is old, but the sync was fresh :p )

      #1648

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        maybe a small synch with jibs comment the other day when i saw the pink roses fabric, i thought of my grandmother in relation to the story, and had a funny thought wondering if she was connected ……. her name was Langley .. Lang lei?… am i pushing it? Well at least I get another comment in.

        #663

        There you are! said the man to the dark figure who had just landed on the wrought iron railed balcony I believe your trip was good!
        Absolutely, Sir. Everything went as you said.
        Good, very good.

        The Baron was a tall man with an impressive build and a broad chest due to his lifelong passion for boxing. With his grey waxed moustache on his round rubicund face, he was giving the impression of a perfectly refined gentleman, but his disarrayed hair and his blue twinkling eyes behind his monocle were contrasting sharply and suggesting either a genius or a madman.

        While Carla was getting rid of the cumbersome fly-like apparatus, the Baron was taking deep puffs on his pipe, releasing pink-coloured clouds smelling of vanilla.
        The interior of the manor was of grisly aspect, but for all matter and purposes, the Baron seemed completely oblivious, as he was savouring his smoking on the stained worn bottle-green velvet sofa.
        In actuality, the manor looked like a total ruin, and that, combined with the habit of speaking his mind which had gained him a reputation of heinous callous grizzly in society, had slowly severed him from all exterior contact.
        The Crazy Baron, as the people of the nearby village had called him, was indeed very glad of this state of fact, which allowed him a complete privacy. As he liked to say to a few trusted people, being mad was the surest way of being left alone. Providing him what money, threats and coercion wouldn’t surely have given as surely. It was not completely safe either of incursion, but these, mainly due to a few young and curious daredevils from the village, could be easily thwarted thanks to the motion-sensors that were dispersed along the property and an appropriate anonymous call to the police. Because, unknown of but a few, underneath the old structure, was a room that, despite lacking a view, was not lacking of anything high-tech…

        Do you want to know the details? asked Carla, interrupting the Baron in his thoughts.
        Not really. I suppose you gave that old crone of a Viscountess the fright of her life, but well, I suppose she deserved it… Many would agree of course, though never in private. Ahah!
        Well, now you make me think of it, I reckon she forgot herself a bit in the process…
        Ahahah! If only it could have taught her something… The manic laughter of the Baron was as chilling as it was infectious.

        Suddenly regaining his poised demeanour, the Baron resumed:
        Now, tell me, was it a genuine one?

        #1638

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Eric’s comment

          I woke up this morning with impression of pink fabric with roses on it. I was in my mind trying to place it without success, other than I thought about my grandmother wondering if she had a pink roses duvet.

          #657

          — I wonder, Joselito
          — What Paqui?
          — Do you know if our room will have a view?

          Paquita and Jose Maria had boarded an hour ago, and the plane had just taken off Heathrow airport where they had their connecting flight to Sydney (with a stopover at Tokyo) where they would finally take a tourist plane for the main Pacific island of the Tikfijikoo Archipelago.
          There had been some fuss about a lady who was called to the gate. No wonder she got lost, Jose was thinking, with that strange numbering of gates… Any sane person would lost his or her bearings…
          By a strange coincidence, the lady was seated on their row, and Jose Maria and Paquita had exchanged a surprised look when they had heard the name. At first they had thought that the “Ms Mavis Staples” the air-hostess was calling every minute was the same singer they were very fond of…

          She had finally arrived, a plump sweating embarrassed woman, apologising at every steward, and looking at her sandals in a sheepish look… As soon as she had taken her seat, she’d said “excuse me” to the couple, apologising again that it was her first time in a plane and that she would likely be sleeping through the trip. A few seconds afterwards, she’d been putting on her eyes a huge yellow hand-knitted blindfold drawn from the depths of her behemothic wicker handbag with pink cats and roses decorations, and in a matter of minutes had been snoring loudly.

          Exchanging another look of surprised consternation, Paquita and Jose Maria shrugged and almost burst out giggling.

          — Oh look! whispered Paqui
          — What? mumbled Jose who was starting to doze off
          — A brochure of Tikfijikoo… Here, in her handbag…
          — Oh dear… I guess we’ll be traveling together for another bunch of hours… sighed Jose

          #590

          The dance was very intense and though he wasn’t exhausted. He could keep on doing that forever it seemed.

          :www:

          Georges-Irtak ware dancing-moving swiftly and with such grace and skill in the manipulation of the body consciousness. Irtak alone wouldn’t have thought some movements he was doing were possible for a human being. His bodies seemed so elastic and so changeable.

          His attention was so entranced by him-Georges that he couldn’t really feel what he was doing. He was open to himself and he was allowing the other part of himself to move his body and he was feeling in the body of him-Georges also. All that could have been so weird and overwhelming… but his previous practice with his dragon twins had been very useful. He was aware of the intense concentration of energy involved in Georges and the connections, deep and loving, with Salome were so bright and colorful.

          He-Georges turned their attention to Salome and send her deep waves of love and fun. She was his lover of many focuses and of many probabilities. Whatever that could mean.

          Heckle and Jeckle were suddenly turning around them and generating a mini-tornado of emerald and pink energy. This was facilitating their movements and their expansion to other dimensions.. he was feeling the veil between them thining so much… a side-step move and he would be…

          Stop!

          The energy feeling made him return in his body all at once. He was still aware of his dragons but his fantastic awareness was like a dim memory. How was he doing that before… This Georges seemed just familiar now, not mingle with him, though…

          You wouldn’t do that now Irtak, it’s too early

          Georges was smiling slyly. His amber eyes were quite hypnotic but Irtak was feeling centered now and focused in this now.

          You’ll learn all that in time… but for now let’s have some cheesy cakes

          #1972

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          Jib
          Participant

            =)) what an omen :))

            quintin anna telling rose gave opened wondering sighed growing yourself laughing eyes mandrake particular key gift creating yikesy color game happened

            #538

            A dragon egg was hatching. A bluish light around the shell.
            That egg was not in a rookery, it was in the Marshes of Doom.

            A little girl was passing by and whistling. She was eight and quite unaware of what was happening. But she was drawn to that particular spot where she could see something shining. Her excitement was enhanced by the unheard humming of the baby dragon emerging. Her heart was full of joy and happyness.

            She had that name in her mind Asiir and that song her mother was always singing to her when she was younger. At times she would sing it to her again, lost in her memories. And it was quite endearing a song, about another world blending with their own, that world, what was the name?

            La Phrëal said a voice in her head. She was a bit startled and stopped singing. Nothing… just the joy and the excitement. She started to walk again in the tall grass.

            She continued with her song and began to see the edges of the egg. Wow, she stopped in awe. It was beautiful, with many shades of blue and it was pulsing. Seeing it she was even more full of joy and of love. All fear she could have had before had vanished of her heart.

            Lola, I’m choosing you

            Hearing these words in her head, her heart exploded of joy, it was so intense the she burst out crying and laughing at the same time. The shell had cracked open and she could see the little creature emerging, so graceful, pink with golden shades. How will she explain that to her parents? :yahoo_rose:

            #469

            Leörmn was feeling a bit weird to be so intimately explored by this Georges. He was seeing him, actually another aspect of himself with his simultaneous eye in that other time. He was wondering why Malvina was also choosing to perceive time as the other human beings. Leörmn, and other dragons had a very different way of exploring and being in time and space. They were their focus and it was simultaneous… it was also ever changing and that’s why the narrator is having lots of difficulties to translate that… but if you connect with your inner senses I’m sure you’ll get it right :D

            Well the dragon was seeing simultaneously the Georges in this particular intersection of their aspects in this now that was also connected with so many nows. He could easily follow the particular movement of this Georges and was seeing also the many paths and probabilities he was following at the same time. Leörmn had that particular multi-dimensional focus with which he could easily communicate with his human friends. He wasn’t mentioning all that they were doing in the many intersections of his self for it was unnecessary, but he was aware they weren’t fully aware… or rather that their awareness was directed differently.

            This Georges, and this Salome were similar to Malvina. He was fully aware of the vastness of her being and of her deep understanding of his own vastness. They were connected and intersected in numerous ways. This creature of theirs was here too. She was with Malvina. In other intersections she was manifesting a different shape, this one was interesting also. Her energy was subtly different also, there were different energies that were intersecting with other aspects of these Georges and Salome.

            The room was reshaped in himself, so it was reshaped in what the humans would call the outside… but it was inside, there was no such thing as outside.

            For a few days, this particular intersection of himself was changing also because Malvina was altering this aspect of herself she was calling her thought process. She was disassociating many layers of energies, of patterns and rearranging them. It was a fun reorganization for him also… in a manner of speaking it had already happened, but it was a new exploration and it was radiating in many probabilities. He added a smell of roses in the cave, an impulse. The shades of pink he added in the crystals was not a random choice either :yahoo_rose:

            He realized now what was the new energy he’d been feeling, he added some qualities and aspects to this exploration and included a fleck of himself in the Leo. What a funny creature. His aspects intersecting with it were all full of joy and fun. It was a good choice, he thought as a translation of his excitement in this new exploration. He was enjoying tremendously this present of this Salome.

            He shape-shifted a little to reorganize his scales on his shoulders so the Leo could easily rest there, and projected himself to Malvina.

            :www:

            #449

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

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

            :fleuron:

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

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

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

            :fleuron:

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

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

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

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

            :fleuron:

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

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

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

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

            #402

            — The legend of Mævel — (Part V)

            Mævel, opening her eyes, found herself in the middle of the forest. It was still dark and the sky was covered with a dark blue haze. Now, she had to find her friend the fox
            How could she do that, in such a wide forest, she started to whine.

            Well, why not start by asking… hooted a rowl nearby.

            Mævel was surprised. She had thought these hot pink speaking owls where found only in legends, not in woods nearby…

            You are in a legend, sweetie retorted the rowl.
            — Oh… Surely the legend of someone else then. Who’s legend it is, I am in, dear rowl?
            — Oh, you can call me Aromelle, sweetie. It’s your legend of course.
            — No kidding? Phew, what a responsibility… I shouldn’t tell you that, but you seem like a rowl I can confide in, err… I’m no hero, I’m not even educated, and I pass winds like any impolite woman or polite green ogress would do… And having everyone know that would be kind of embarrassing… What a legend that would be…
            — Then we’ll just say to the bards to skip that part… said wise Aromelle. Now, you wanted to ask something?
            — Oh yes, I have to find the blue fox.
            — And would you mind being a little more precise about that fox. I know thousands of blue foxes sweetie. Hoohoo, perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but I know quite a few, of others’ legends… You’re not the only legendary one coming into these woods to ask for advice.
            — Oh, I’m sorry, blushed Mævel
            — No need sweetie, snapped the rowl, in fact I know exactly who you are looking for… Wouldn’t that be Gulniforgf, the hunchback one-eyed cleft-lipped ogre cursed by Nærvel, the Goddess of the Waters? she said with an encouraging wink
            — Oh, by Ghört’s sake, no!
            — Hoohooo, no need to swear. Of course it isn’t, I knew that, sweetie. That must be Mifilthion, the toothless bald thousand-year-old troll cursed by Agnima, the Goddess of the Flames, you are looking for, hum? she said slyly
            — Oh, no, no, no… Mine is Blohmrik, he said he was a god…
            — Oh, but you know, everyone is a bit of god in a way, so that’s hardly…
            — He said he was cursed by Lejüs
            SHOOSHOOO, the rowl flapped her wings visibly distraught. That can’t be him! Poor thing… Aromelle added plaintively, you know in these matters of curses, you have to deal with the cursing one, and Shaint Lejüs is a tough one to deal with…
            — Oh, for a moment I was afraid that you’d say Blohmrik was a deaf varicosed warty dwarf… I don’t fear that Lejüs, said bravely Mævel… perhaps a bit hastily, she thought to herself
            — Oh, no, he’s a nice fine man, sweetie, you both would do such a perfect couple…
            — And where do I find him then, Mævel was getting a bit impatient with the winking hooting hoot
            — Well, that’s easy, you just happen to have appeared on top of his burrow.

            What a waste of time, was thinking Mævel… She couldn’t wait for much longer, and after all, the burrow could be a nice place to rest.

            With a quick thanks to Aromelle, she entered the tunnel in front of her.

            #1551

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            Jib
            Participant

              Pinken Owendy :yahoo_feeling_beat_up:

              #380
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                When Al met the others, he was rather nonplussed by the profusion of capillar effects. Hairs colours were now a bit out of fashion, but he had to admit that Sam’s colours were radiant… Well, had it been for himself, he would have preferred something a tad bluer.

                When Becky had made her appearance, he was really impressed. He found Becky had made a “bald” move that was suiting her dark complexion to a T.
                (Becky was indeed sporting her African ancestry, coming from her mother Sabine Baina N’Diaye, with as much pride as her expensive boots).

                As for himself, Al was not displeased that he had followed the good-hearted advice of sweet Tina about his hair loss. But, as he had discovered along with Hari Amgic, it all boiled down to the fact that was he was finding the tonsure rather elegantly distinguished, and giving him the looks of a wise old monk.
                That had made Tina laugh of course, as she was finding him looking more like a monkey :(|) than anything else. Well, fine then, a Capuchin and that’ll make us agree on something at least, he had retorted a bit vexed.
                The truth was that now, with the help of Hari, he was growing hair so fast that he had to shave them in the morning, and they would be knee-long and thick in the evening… But that was fun.
                He was laughing now; he couldn’t have the monk look, but at least he had the sadhu look.

                He said to Tina with a mischievous wink that he really loved her hot pink dress with the little white kitty cats patterns on it. Perfect Goldilocks look. :D

                #334
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  …..it’s just that it does sound rather simplistic, I mean ……Tina frowned at the script.

                  Well, it depends doesn’t it, Becky replied. As it’s a fictional recreational piece of performance art, certainly it wants a few complications, a few twists, a few riddles…..

                  The phone rang, interrupting Becky’s rambling. Tina rather rudely snatched the phone just as Becky was about to answer it, suddenly seeming to be a bit breathless and pink in the cheeks.

                  Just then a garbage truck came to a grindingly noisy halt outside and Becky was unable to eavesdrop on Tina’s oddly furtive conversation.

                  #307

                  Chiara got quite a fright and spun round quickly. She stood gazing at the funny creature, a woman who had a sort of cattish feel, who had shouted BOUH at her, momentarily uncertain as to whether to burst into laughter or tears.

                  Illi watched Chiara’s trembling lip with some concern, especially when she saw the very large woman who was with her. Illi felt it may be prudent to make a hasty retreat, however, before she could make her getaway, a tiny figure emerged from behind a rather large pebble.

                  Hello, said a little pink fairy. I am the Fairy Princess of the Land of the Long White Cloud. Did you fly here? Look I can do magic and she waved her magic wand, said abracadabra and produced some small white feathery fairy wings for the delighted Chiara.

                  Frowdup she called excitedly. A round green blobby creature who blended seamlessly into the environment like some sort of exotic plant hopped over.

                  Yes Dear Fairy Princess?

                  Please could you play the music for us?

                  Oh delighted to oblige answered Frowdup, producing a flute like instrument.

                  At first the sweet notes of the instrument floated tentatively on the warm air. They rang like pure crystal, cool and pure, then slowly gained in confidence and multiplied, as though possessed of supernatural powers. It seemed the simple melody Frowdup played was accompanied by a whole orchestra of instruments.

                  The little fairy laughed in delight and grabbed the giggling Chiara. They began to dance instinctively with the energy of the earth, swaying at first like a tree in the wind, then whirling like the wind itself, soaring high into the air, imitating the flight of a parrot, then swooping joyfully back to the ground. They were connected to the magic of the music.

                  ***

                  Whanga, one of the 13 Witches of Loathing was feeling rather bad tempered as she gazed into her glass ball. hmmmm bugger, she said crossly that little Fairy Princess from the Land of Long White Cloud is having way too much fun. She seems impervious nowadays to my magic spells of loathing

                  Whanga had to confess to being a little puzzled. For a while she felt she nearly had the Fairy Princess in her clutches, but one day something seemed to have changed, and the Fairy Princess did not seem to be so affected by her whispered spells any longer. What sort of magic had she found to protect herself Whanga wondered. .

                  ***

                  It had begun to rain gently whilst Finn was in the enchanted fairy ring. She didn’t mind, she loved the rain and the trees protected her from the getting too wet. It felt cosy and magical. She had such a strong sense of the presence of her younger self. The younger Finn was three years old. Finn remembered the day,it was etched in her memory as a turning point, and yet it was also as though she were there again. She talked with her younger self, wanting so much to give the younger Finn a gift to help her make a different choice that day. Finn knew she had to trust with her heart, not reason it with her head, because there were just too many questions she could not make sense of, and magic did not seem to be so much about sense anyway. Anyway,whatever, if nothing else she felt lighter within herself .

                  #304

                  Írtak was playing with the dragon twins in the carved woodstones field. It was mostly faced shaped petrified wood that had been carved surely when it was still wood. The faces were quite hypnotic and made him feel often sleepy, but with the dragons he was feeling all his senses enhanced and sharpened. :face-glasses:

                  The dragons were growing fast, hatched only a few days ago, they were already bigger than his father… He knew from Malvina that they could take whatever form they wanted, but he’d always thought that their power were developing from nothing to … something… but apparently they were already fully aware. Their leather skin was glowing emerald green, blended with some purple pink shades, or was it the contrary. It was changing so quickly. He was wondering what they were eating, because he wasn’t the one who was giving them any food. And still they were so big.
                  Did they have a “real” form? Whatever that meant.

                  One of the dragon gave him a mischievous glance and before he could anticipate what would happen, he was facing a growling troll :yahoo_time_out:. The troll was running right to him, seemingly crushing with his heavy body all the fragile woodstoned faces.

                  All his attention was on the troll and he didn’t hear the man coming.
                  And now the troll was freezed running and jumping forever… Írtak’s head was like a big storm of boulders falling from the sky. Growling, drumbling apart…

                  — You have strange games with your dragons.
                  — …

                  He was gaping at the man… his skin was bluish with pink also and sometimes a bit of yellow.

                  — Who are you?
                  — Don’t you recognize me? :face-grin:

                  Írtak tried to remember something. had he ever met that man before?

                  — Oh right, it’s our first meeting… from your point of view. I’d forgotten that. But you see, for me our first meeting is in your future.
                  — …

                  Írtak was still gaping at the man, this strange skin of him, it was so ambrulin, that color he’d already see somewhere… was it in a dream?
                  The man looked at him, and he felt for a moment a warm fuzzy feeling in his body… not particularly located in any part of it… and he would have… no, it was even in the woodstoned faces around him… how could he feel that?

                  — Your dragons are wanting to take part in the fun, the man smiled. I’m going to let them go, as I’m not staying either.
                  — Who are you? managed Írtak.

                  :yahoo_alien:

                  — I’m your father…
                  :yahoo_alien:
                  HAHAHAHAHAH! No actually that’s a private joke… I’m Andrimiñ (AndruhMiiñ?) we’ll meet again in a few years of your time. Your dragons are really interesting then, and so are you.

                  Saying that, the time began to flow again in the right direction, the troll was still running toward him, but he suddenly slowed down and stopped, shape shifting into a bluish boy, with a face so similar to Andrimiñ.

                  — Where’s the funny man? he said.

                  #302
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    Well I think I can answer that for you, said a small round green blobby creature, in response to Roselyn’s question. The creature had actually been sitting there all the time, however everyone had assumed it was some sort of exotic plant.

                    Let me introduce myself, I am Frowdup, yes an unusual name I know. I am a long time and faithful friend to the dear little Fairy Princess, who is rather friendless at the moment owing to her extraordinarily antisocial behaviour , such as that which you see so sadly exhibited before you.

                    Frowdup cleared his throat in an important and significant sort of way. I will try and relate this sad tale as succinctly and precisely as possible, he said.

                    Our dear little Fairy Princess was the head Fairy Princess of the Hot Pink and Sky Blue bands of the North East Fairies from the Land of the Long White Cloud. Each Fairy Princess in her initiate years has a witch assigned to her, to help her develop her magical abilities. Our dear little Fairy Princess was designated one of the 13 Witches of Loathing, Whanga, from the far North of the North Island of the Land of the Long White Cloud.

                    Dear Fairy Princess had her own cave which she took admirable pains to make sure was always fully stocked with sand. You know about the sand of course? I can see you are a woman of great stature, no offense intended, I mean I can see you are tremendously well versed in the ways of magic yourself, so you will know that some of the more basic ways of magic involve a symbolic representation of magical symbols, so to speak, such as sand and wands and whatnot sort of thingies. Really completely unnecessary, of course, as you will know, however for her, each grain of sand was the exact and precise equivalent of one wish, activated by a determined wave of her magic wand and the words abracadabra. Yes, I know, very primitive, but she is a very young initiate, although I will say she showed great potential had Whanga the Witch of Loathing not managed to convince her of her own lack of worth.

                    Whanga was constantly and every single moment whispering in the ear of the Fairy Princess magic spells of self loathing. My young friend lacked the expertise to counteract these powerful spells and began to believe them. One day she was so sad at her own horridness that she could bear it no longer and put a spell on herself. This enabled her to curl up into a deep sleep of forgetfulness for a rather long time, enabling Whanga to easily procure said wand. In addition to this Whanga managed to obtain the source of the music which the Fairy Princess felt she required in order to help her to fly. When the dear little Fairy Princess awakened from her sleep, she was devastated by the loss of her wand and music, and still convinced of her own worthlessness you see this poor creature before you today.

                    The poor creature had stopped sobbing and was glaring at Frowdup.

                    #295

                    Becky had decided to take her friends out for the day. Poor Al needed a break from scratching his head in confusion, and dear Tina needed a break from rubbing her aching temples. She knew Sam would enjoy a day out too.

                    Becky was enjoying preparing the itinerary.

                    Champagne breakfast at the Droles de Dames cafe in Le Touquet~Pu first, a table reserved under the gaily striped awning overlooking the sea. Fresh croissants and hot coffee, Bavarian cream donuts, tangy fresh squeezed Tesorillo orange and Tiki kiwi juice, scrambled dragon eggs on French toast, and Moroccan mint tea.

                    The exhibit of Sand Sculpture was next, a pleasant stroll on the beach after breakfast would be just the ticket, Becky thought.

                    Next, a little side trip to place a few hibiscus blooms on the grave of Oscar Wilde. He was buried at the Father Chase Memorial Garden on a mossy knoll overlooking the sand sculptures, a short stroll from the beach.

                    A golden coach and six dappled grey horses would meet them at Father Chase gardens and take them to the lawns of Sandlebright Hall, for the hot air balloon ride. The big red balloon would land on Isla de los Perdidos, a magical island in the Rift Straits, for a picnic lunch under the coconut trees and a relaxing swim in the deliciously warm lagoon. Balti had agreed to provide head massages for the little party of day trippers, and had suggested a big iced jug of crop juice as the perfect accompaniament.

                    A paddle steamer would arrive to take them back to the mainland after the sojourn on the magical isle. There were comfortable whicker steamer chairs on the deck with cosy tartan blankets for those wishing to snooze a little, or raucous poker games inside the red plush interior for those who chose to exercise their creating skills on the green baize tables.

                    The Cirque de Paradoxia matinee was on the agenda for the afternoons entertainment, with the new sonic stone juggling as one of the highlights.

                    A theatre supper in Covent Garden, Becky had decided, and the Orient Express was the perfect way to get there. Hercule Poirot had kindly agreed to serve drinks and nibbles on the journey. Becky perused the entertainment section of The Reality Times, wondering which play to take her freinds to. Aha! Salome, of course!

                    Becky considerately booked rooms at the Hogwarts Hotel on Queen Street for her friends to freshen up and change, ready for the evenings festivities. A hot pink stretch limosine would call for them and escort them to the Blue Man Group show, and then on to the party at the Dragondrome Stadium.

                    Becky booked rooms at the Taj Mc Fal Hotel for her friends to retire to after the party, whenever they so wished…the pink limo would be available all night.

                    There, said Becky in satisfaction, they will love it.

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