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  • #1215

    “Well, Sanso” said Zhaana a trifle breathlessly, her flushed with wonder. “ The Elsepace Arrangement was certainly an eye opener, if eye opener is the right word. So what next?”

    Sanso laughed uproariously. “What next? What next, AHAAAHAA HA HA! What next indeed!”

    “What’s so funny?” asked the little girl, her face starting to crumple.

    “Oh don’t do the old crumple face, Zhaana, I’m laughing at myself as much as anything” Sanso replied, giving her a quick hug. He couldn’t bear the sight of crumple faced children.

    “Well, I still don’t understand why you’re laughing” she replied with a pout.

    “It’s actually a very good question, and one I sometimes find I ask myself. Well, I used to ask myself “what next” all the time, as if it was somehow important to know where I was going next, to have a destination or a plan.”

    “But if you don’t have a destination, how do you know where to go next?” Zhaana was confused.

    Sanso smiled. “It doesn’t matter where you go next, little one, because you’re always at the centre of everything. You can go in any direction you want and you’ll always be at the centre of everything.”

    “Well if that’s the case, why not just stay right where I am, then?”

    “Do you want to do that? Stay right where you are?”

    “No! I …er….no! of course not!”

    “Why not?” Sanso asked with a gentle smile.

    “Well, if I stay right here, and don’t go in any direction, everything will always be the same” she replied, frowning.

    “And what would be wrong with that?”

    Zhaana had to think about this. “Well, it wouldn’t be wrong I guess, but it would be boring. There wouldn’t be any surprises…..”

    “Ah so you like surprises, then!” Sanso was grinning.

    “Yes, I love surprises!”

    “Well then why do you want to plan where you’re going next?”

    Zhaana opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. Sanso was confusing her, and she didn’t know what to say.

    “OK then, Sanso, you are always wandering around, how do you decide where to go next?” asked Zhaana, rather cleverly responding to the difficult question with a question of her own.

    “I get an impulse, or I see a sign, and I follow it.”

    “What do you mean, a sign?” Zhaana understood about impulses: after all, she had followed her impulse to leave horrid old Uncle Grishenka and follow Sanso into the cave. She wasn’t sure about signs, though.

    “I’m not sure I can describe a sign, really. They just appear, and so I notice them.”

    “Well, after you notice them, then what?”

    “Well” said Sanso “Then you interpret the sign however you want to, and then you act on it.”

    “You can interpret the sign however you want?” asked Zhaana with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

    “Yup” replied Sanso. “That’s about the size of it, Sweetpea.”

    ~~~

    “Oh Godfrey, I’ve been trying to get the theme word into this entry and I’m just not getting any closer.” Elizabeth sighed, and pushed her keyboard away. Quickly she pulled the keyboard back so that she could write what Godfrey replied.

    “Have some more peanuts, Liz” he replied with a laugh.

    Elizabeth pushed the keyboard away again and passed Godfrey the peanuts .

    A few moments later Elizabeth pulled the keyboard back and wrote:

    ~~~

    Sanso, a word just popped into my head, do you think it might be a sign?” Zhaana asked excitedly. “It just popped in from nowhere!”

    “Sure it’ll be a clue, and what was the word?” he replied, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a chuckle. He had heard the word too, and knew exactly where it was coming from, but he wasn’t going to spoil the moment for his little friend.

    “Moonbeams!” she announced proudly. “I heard the word moonbeams !”

    #1174

    Balbina had had a quite difficult week. Feeling cold, having trouble to find sleep, not even speaking of being unable to do the kind of out-of-body travel she had managed to do last time.
    She was almost starting to doubt she could redo it again.

    Of course, the relocation at her son’s cottage was a source of much change in her habits, and although he wasn’t at home most of time, she wasn’t really feeling like she was ‘at home’. Strangest thing really, as for the time she was at the hospice she wasn’t feeling as much an alien as in this cottage. At least, at the hospice, she was in a sort of neutral environment, some place where she wasn’t undesirable (would it be asking for too much to actually be desirable at her age?). Here, the environment wasn’t neutral at all; everywhere everything reminded her of her son: his books, the posters, even the dust on the coffee table was almost looking as though it was his own.

    So she had to adjust. Contort her energy to fit —to crumple herself!— into this place, as it would be likely she would spend quite some time here. She wasn’t asking for much really, as she wasn’t able to move from the bed he’d had installed in the spare room. Ghastly room, with a creepy wallpaper from a has-been era of the past days, year 2000 or close she’d guess, gaudy as it was… oriented to the south, with hardly bearable heat during the day. She would have loved to see the coast on the north, but instead, the only window was showing her the shade of the trees, and that ominous alligator-green mountain just behind.

    If she couldn’t project in her dreams as she managed to do before, she would soon either die of boredom or of heat. She wasn’t too sure which one would be the most painless and efficient.

    She pushed the button to have her bed roll a little closer to the window; once straightened up a bit, she was able to see the passageway to the mountain. She couldn’t explain why she didn’t like this mountain; it was quite beautiful; perhaps she feared to be lost and abandoned. All the more since she could feel so much presence in this environment. Unseen presence, and trickster ones too.

    She was tired, and yawned so much her tense jaw’s muscles ached.

    On the emerald path to the forest, a moving teal wisp of light caught her attention. Funny plays of light at this hour of the day. But the wisp was persistent, and it started to move towards her.

    “Good day Balbina!”

    The crazy rabbit was back again. And… she was sleeping? In or out?

    “In or out, smell my foot, it’s your choice, and matters not
    but be quick, and come forth, for Anita and her folks this wicked way come!”

    “The tune is set, the tunnel is close
    Of playfulness you’ll need a hefty dose”

    #985

    The door of the garage opened with a creaking sound, and Madame Chesterhope sped up into the gritty alley.
    In that dimension where she had hidden her command base, people were a bit sloppy about roads and tarmac, so she had designed a little modification on her machines to be able to levitate in some of the less practical areas; but she had to admit,… she loved the vibrations and bumps that the motorbike created with the friction of the ground surface.
    She started to giggle, all enthusiastic about the speed and the wind in her hair, that she ignored the road sign indicating that the road was flooded some miles ahead. The rain had been pouring cabbages all past hexades, so much so that her leather suit was in all honesty the best thing she could have worn, not to mention the fact of course, that it was making her totally sexy.
    Two peasants were coming her way, looking at her with wild eyes like they had just seen something otherworldly. Ahahah she laughed, the fools would soon have forgotten everything about it (another handy and sly magical modification she nodded to herself). Looking in her rear mirror, she could still see them wiggle their hands in a frenzy… What the fl…!

    :fleuron:

    On the road, the two peasants wondered what in the name of Shaint Lejus was that rider… But worse, it was heading straight to the pool that the swollen river had made recently, outpouring on fields and little sniggly and thorny paths, like this one. Making desperate signs to be seen and warn it, they watched in horror the black podgy thing with flabby flapping schpurniatz arms sink straight to the bottom of the pool.

    :fleuron:

    The landing was a bit bumpy, but she found her balance quickly. Those transdimensional puddles were a bit rough to get accustomed to, but once you knew how to manipulate it, you couldn’t forget it.
    Now, all she needed to got to the location she was heading to was to hop through a few more transdimensional puddles.
    Actually, all sorts of puddles could do the job, water puddles, even oil puddles… or run-over poodle puddles for that matter. She preferred water ones, for the quality of water was very fluid, and allowed for easier defocusing. Lately she had tried transdimensional exhaust fumes clouddles, but that was a bit disorienting more than helping.
    As far as she could tell, this first one had been projecting her to a dimension in between Earth and the Duane. Incorporating vibrational qualities of the two, with a little more rigidity though. The machine needed a little time to stabilize and get prepared for the next transdimensional jump.
    As far as she could tell, she was in a place that was not unlike her birthplace, in the countryside of England. There were occasionally some giveaways that she still wasn’t quite there yet, like an erratic flying schpurniatz, but she was close now.
    A few meters in front of her, she could see a lovely puddle that could do for the next jump. A bit small for her… well, motorbike, what were you thinking… but that would probably do it. She took another breath, then pushed the TDPP (Trans-Dimensional Puddle Propeller) button.

    :fleuron:

    Flof-flof-flof-flof…
    Bugger, bugger…. What the bloody heck!

    Straw was flying all over her hair, and obfuscating her vision… Darn last puddle had to much mud in it, and her concentration went off for a split second, heading her towards a field of barley.
    Turning round and round for a moment in complete disorientation, she finally pushed the levitation button to take a little altitude.
    Oh, now,… at least she could tell she was in England, because she knew that place.
    How perfect! She could now just move into the dimension to the Pacific island. The GPS included in the modern expensive motorbike had been bipping as soon as it had found again the satellites, and it was now pointing the direction.
    Giggling again, she pushed a new button and disappeared into the sky in a supersonic puff of smoke.

    :fleuron:

    a few days later, Chestershire, UK

    AFP - 2008-07-21 - An new amazing design has been reported by eye-witnesses
    on a crop of barley of a local farmer along with reports of strange booming sounds
    and orbs of light. A sight to behold, the delicate intricacy of these interwoven
    patterns is believed by many to be the work of the Crop-circle Makers, some
    alien intelligence desiring to communicate with us. The theme of this crop-circle
    is thought to be a variation on planet Venus cycles, and would be highlighting
    the number of cycles lefts until the notorious end-date of Mayan calendar,
    Dec. 21st 2012. Scientists have brushed off the allegations of elderly pranksters,
    as this one seemed to have required levels of astronomical knowledge far beyond
    human intelligence.
    #943
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Becky started to hear voices babbling, through the swirling colours and fog. She groaned as she became aware of her head ache, and raised her hand feebly to her forehead.

      Ah, she’s coming round! she mentally translated the foreign babble that was drifting into her consciousness. Becky’s hand slipped down towards her belly, which was hurting almost as much as her head.

      What the f…! she whispered in amazement, as she struggled to sit up.

      The babble of voices twittered at her to be still, and bony fingers pushed at her shoulders, encouraging her to lie still.

      I’m not fat anymore, Becky whispered incredulously, and began to smile.

      A well meaning voice was comforting her, telling her not to worry, that the three babies were fine, though tiny, and had been rushed to a special facility in the mountains to be placed in an incubator.

      Oh, cool, said Becky vaguely, not really listening. She stroked her smooth flat belly and sighed happily, and drifted off once more into the delightful oblivion of unconsciousness.

      #888

      Franiel lifted the metal latch and pushed open the creaking door of the old shed. In the darkness he could make out of the shape of boxes and other various objects, then, as his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, he saw the motorbike propped up against the far wall.

      What are you up to young man?

      Franiel jumped and spun around. It was Lydia, just returned from her journey to the market.

      Oh hello again! You startled me … Phoebe suggested I check out the motorbike, see if I can get it going.

      Lydia looked grave. Did she now? Well it’s been many a long year since that piece of junk worked. Anyway so you’ve met Madame Chesterhope then, and what did you make of her? She was giving Franiel that deeply penetrating stare again. Franiel wondered kindly if perhaps she was shortsighted.

      Oh very nice … and I met Vincentius the parrot too.

      Lydia chuckled. Did you now?

      Yes, actually Phoebe told me a rather unusual story.

      At that Lydia broke into gales of laughter. Let me guess, about mixing the aura and the egg?

      Yes, that’s right, replied Franiel, his face breaking into a smile too as he realised the absurdity of it.

      Lydia wiped the tears of laughter from her face. ’Ere Lad, I told you things are not what they always seem. She thought for a moment. I’m parched from my long walk, I am going inside to make a brew. Why don’t you join me? If you are going to be stopping then there are a few things you need to know.

      #741
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Elvira was tucking into some reindeer stew left over from Becky and Sean’s wedding when she telepathically tuned into Becky’s distress signal. Chewing thoughtfully, Elvira tried to make sense of the visual imagery she was receiving. She seemed to be getting a mixed message; was it a nun, or was it a tart? She reminded herself to trust her impressions, and not discount them even if they seemed incongruous or unlikely, and accepted that Becky was indeed in some kind of tarty nun trouble. The question was, where was Becky.

        Elvira pushed her empty plate away, and focused on the situation. AHA! Nutley Park, 25th bush on the left.

        Boris, I’m going out, she said. Becky’s in a spot of tarty nun trouble in Nutley park.

        Right Ho, dear, shall I come and help?

        Another image of popped into Elvira’s head of the see-through black mini dress. Er, no Boris, I’ll handle this myself.

        And with that, Elvira, sprightly old crone that she was (and fortified with mushroom laced reindeer stew) bustled off to hail a gondola cab, carrying a large carpet bag containing a selection of hastily chosen clothing.

        #704
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Well, now there’s an idea, Elvira said, closing the book she’d been reading. Hhmmm….

          Boris, how about a trip back home to see the folks?

          Boris looked up in astonishment. Home? see the folks? What for? Elvira had said right from the start, Don’t ever expect me to go to Siberia! And Boris had never pushed the matter; after all, he was in no hurry to return there either. In the 3 years they’d been together, the subject had never come up.

          Listen to this, Boris. Elvira picked up the book and started reading.

          “….in May, Kerouac had written to Timothy Leary requesting some ‘SM’ or Siberian mushrooms, after Ginsberg told him that they would enable Jack to complete a chapter each day…”

          Boris, we can make a fortune! We can stay with your folks. Mushroom season starts soon, we’ll stay for the season, dry them or whatever you have to do, pack them into dolls or something, and have them shipped back here.

          Well I don’t know, Elvira….I like it here.

          Oh pooh, Boris, we’ve been in London for almost a year, and I’m bored. It’ll only be for a few months, and then think of all that money! How many of our friends have writers block? All of them! The market is there, Boris! We’ll have writers beating a path to our door for SM’s…..

          #695
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Zhanochka ran until she could run no more, and then she collapsed into a heap on the ground. Birch trees shimmered against the watery blue sky abover her head and before long her eyes had fluttered and closed.

            Moments later she smiled. Nishanti, she whispered. You’re here.

            Zhanochka slept soundly where she had slipped to the ground, sprawled on the tussocky grass beneath the trees, her sleeves still pushed up over her elbows and a smile on her lips.

            #692
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              It was a perfect year for mushrooms in the mossy green fields of the Upper Ubzich regions, and gaily coloured clumps of them glistened in the morning dew. The weak sun felt deliciously warm to Zhanochka, after the interminable months of frost and ice. She pushed her sleeves up past her elbows, exposing the milk white flesh that she (or anyone else for that matter) rarely saw, clutched her grimy skirts up above the oozing mud, and ran across the field for no reason at all, other than it felt good to run.

              Zhanochka kept running. And running……something strange happened to Zhanochka that day, the day she ran and ran…..

              It was, in retrospect, as if she had run from one world, into another one, a completely different world, and she was glad.

              #613

              When Veranassessee entered the secret facility with Gloria and Sharon, her blood congealed in her veins.
              Patient 4 had escaped the safety straitjacket and was holding the doctor at paper-clip point.
              Patient 4, was one of the first six patients they’d treated on the island, an awful miscarriage… Of the six, all had developed strong reactions to the medication especially as they had not yet found the appropriate dosage for the blue spider venom. Some had developed extra appendices, most had been hideously disfigured, and all of them had gone bonkers.
              “Four” was the last alive of them all, by an inexplicable combination of luck and genetics, and by far the most dangerous one. Apparently, apart from madness, the venom had gifted “Four” with supra-human velocity and strength. It was what had kept that mad doctor from “erasing” that mistake, so sure he could find some interesting way of making profit out of that prodigious lucky find.
              But now that was compromising everything…

              V’ass pushed the two chatty old ladies in a broom-closet behind with a wink Be right back ladies!

              Sharon and Gloria giggled in the small room, wondering about the unexpected sense of hospitality of the people of that resort. All was so funny and exciting since they’d decided to come to that place.

              :fleuron:

              — Four! Release the doc’!
              — Don’t move an inch closer or I’ll kill him!
              — You have nowhere to go Four, backups will be here any minute now…
              — One second is all I need to snap his neck!
              — No! Dr. Chris Bronklehampton was moaning
              — You, stay still, the mummified Four snapped to the panting doctor.

              Quicker than light, V’ass shot a powerful sedative into the arm of the mummy. Four winced, drawing the dart out of the arm, crushing the fluffy fletchings between the fingers. Quickly assessing chances to escape, Four sent the doctor flying at the other side of the room, in a powerful swing of the arm, and jumped through the window in a formidable sound of smashed glass, disappearing into the jungle.

              Chris! Are you alright? Nurse Bellamy was already caring for the fainted doctor.

              #446
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                About time you woke up, came a familiar grumpy voice from behind a pile of logs. Mandrake emerged. And I don’t have fur balls, he added, haughtily.

                Mandrake, thank God! Arona had been a little concerned that , given the amount of time presumably had passed, Mandrake may no longer be with them. Tactfully she kept this to herself, given Mandrake’s especially truculent mood.

                Please tell me what happened now, she said to Vincentius. I think I am ready to hear.

                Vincentius looked uncertain, sighed , but agreed to tell her the tale. Afterwards, Arona was silent for quite some time. She stared thoughtfully at the fire, mesmerised by the dancing flames, gently stroking Mandrakes silky black coat.

                Oh bugger, she said eventually and stood up decisively. I really think I have to go and see that old lizardy croney woman, and without delay.

                I wish you wouldn’t, but I do understand, said Vincentius sadly.

                I don’t understand, said Mandrake crossly, twitching his tail impatiently and narrowing his green eyes

                Arona went over to the sleeping Yikesy and studied him with fond interest. He is not getting any better looking with age is he? She kissed him tenderly on the cheek and whispered in his ear.

                Thank you so much for caring for him, she said to Vincentius and gave him a huge hug.

                On the way out of the cave she ran into Leormn.

                Oh, she said, Vincentius said you allowed us to use the room. Thank you so much. And she kissed Leormn on what she thought would be his cheek, however, a little unsure of Dragon anatomy, it may have been technically a snout or something.

                Arona walked rapidly for several hours, trying to concentrate on the directions given to her by Vincentius and hoping that she was headed in the right direction. Eventually she started to tire and her determination faded. She sat down on a rock and closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped in weariness and she despondently wished she was back in the cave with the others. She felt deeply sad.

                And is this something you really must face? asked a kindly voice in her head.

                I have no idea really, she answered despairingly. I don’t know. I mean I thought I knew. I thought if I didn’t then I would always be in fear. When I looked into the flames of the fire it all seemed clear. I needed to understand and face it, I thought anyway….

                hmmm, said the voice. Well the best advice I can give you is to trust yourself.

                Arona opened her eyes and saw, to her surprise, a small cottage in the distance. Why, I don’t remember that cottage being there a moment ago, she thought. It looks just as Vincentius described. How remarkable. I was closer than I thought! Her spirits rose.

                Outside the cottage the old crone was bent over, digging in a small vegetable plot. A basket of cabbages sat by her side. She stood up at Arona’s approach, wiping the dirt from her gnarly hands on her apron.

                Hello Arona, she cackled. I have been expecting you. I don’t believe we were properly introduced last time. My name is Lucille. And she held out a hand for Arona to shake.

                I have come to get some answers from you, said Arona, firmly crossing her arms and ignoring the outstretched hand.

                Lucille sighed and dropped her hand. Her pointy chin quivered, and Arona noticed a big wart, with one thick black hair growing out of it, right on the tip of lucille’s chin. She tried not to stare.

                Alright little one, Lucille said soflty. Why don’t you go and wait in the orchard. I will go and fix us a nice, cool drink of lemonade.

                The orchard was full of old fruit trees, their twisted trunks reminded Arona of Lucille herself. From one of the trees hung an old swing. Arona sat on it, holding the rope, and gently rocked herself back and forwards, thinking. She had to admit, she was, quite frankly puzzled. The visit so far wasn’t going as expected.

                She kept rocking, faster now.

                She hit her heels into the hard earth again and again.

                I don’t know. She tried to dig these words into the earth with her heels.

                Then she sidestepped her feet in crab-like movements in diminishing circles. The ropes of the swing twisted tighter and tighter.

                Arona leant backwards and stuck her legs out straight in front of her. The ropes unwound and sent her spinning. weeeeeeeeeeee hoooooooooooooooo!

                She looked up into the sky. Blue sky through the trees with racing spinning clouds. She felt dizzy.

                She stood up and braced herself against the seat of the swing. She held onto the ropes and pushed hard against the seat beneath her. She bent her knees under the swing. She kicked her feet forwards.

                She wanted to go higher. She bent her legs back under the swing. Then kicked them outwards. She stretched her body backwards and arched her back.

                I don’t know, she whispered.

                She sat upright. She bent her legs back under the swing. Then kicked them as hard as she could. She leant her body backwards. She stretched as far as she could. On the rebound her heels hit the ground hard, but still she wanted to keep going higher and higher.

                I DON’T KNOW! she shouted, as loudly as she could.

                :fleuron:

                Lucille returned with the lemonade.

                How do I know if it is safe to drink this? Arona asked. You have cast one spell on me, how am I to know this is not another?

                Lucille cackled. Dear little Arona, she said, if I wanted to cast a spell on you I would have done it before now.

                Okay, well that makes good sense, thought Arona, gratefully drinking the lemonade.

                #1584

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                Jib
                Participant

                  Dead sync :yahoo_heehee: I’ve had a drink with a friend this afternoon and he told me about the trip in Vienna last June… he was with us but did not attend the Elias session.
                  During this trip, he almost choked to death in a restaurant… nobody seemed very concerned about it at the moment but I felt he was really having difficulties, I just pushed the tables around (broke many plates and water stuffs :p) and “helped” him in a way.. He told me later that he’d seen him dead during the experience… he may have created a dead probable self at that time.

                  And he also told me that yesterday he made a lemon pie :yahoo_laughing: and we talked about making a lemon pie too :bounce:

                  #403

                  November, 1 st 2057

                  Sean took another glass of scotch to give him some courage to call.

                  — It’s your twelfth now, that’s supposed to give you courage
                  — Oh, Maggie, my live is such a mess…
                  — It’s not, and you know it. Look at all our beautiful children, and Becky who went through so much just out of love for you…

                  Sean didn’t know whether he was actually seeing the ghost of his deceased wife, or a projection of her, still alive in another part of the Universe, but she always had been a comforting presence.
                  He had started to see her a few months after her disappearance.
                  Yes, during that T.R.A.P. expedition, yeah, “live-changing experience” they had said… True, too true… Perhaps the electromagnetic field had messed up with his brains, but now he could see her clear as day.

                  That had been a bit freaky in the beginning, and when they made love with Becky, he was a bit anxious to see her appear not invited. But Margaret had been discrete, well mostly. At times, he wondered if she had not sneaked into the bedroom and merged her energies with Becky’s, just to be closer to him… Becky’s acts did not always make sense anyway, so that was hardly a criterion to judge of that.

                  All his live had been like that. A jumble of incoherent stuff. Oh, he had enjoyed it, especially at the beginning. His father Lord Wrick was obsessed with the Shift, and had found some ancient knowledge in his youth. Mostly rubbish by nowadays standards, bunches of rotten books of prophecies handed down to a few chosen ones, who were supposed to be forewarned of doom to come. Now, they knew that they were only a wake up call, but at that time, it was another thing altogether.

                  Of course, the wealth accumulated over the centuries by the Wrick family had been helpful to access these precious archaeological documents. A few of them had played a key role.
                  For instance, the in-extenso Life and Deeds of Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson, a rare version of the diary of Lord Fergusson, annotated by his daughter, Illi, was telling an account of history much different than the one romanced after his death by his wife Floribunda von Grott.
                  Thanks to it, Lord Wrick had been able to acquire some inkling as to ancient treasures. Old fool…
                  It had killed his wife, Artemisia, devastated by the madness of her husband, and it had alienated the other part of the family too.
                  But all that counted was to make the discoveries, and perhaps enlight the masses.

                  Sean had never really forgave his father that he wanted to utilise Margaret and have her fit into his plans of grandeur. Of course, his father had willingly accepted the union, and despite all appearances (for the sake of those rapacious journalists) he had even pushed Sean to do it quickly. But all he was really interested in was her precious discoveries.

                  — Oh, but I was not innocent, Sean
                  — I know Maggie, you were obsessed by what we could offer to you, especially when you read about the botanical experiments in the deserts, which were related in that old book. But still…
                  — We all had grown up through that, you know…
                  — Yes, and what showed me that, was that I was concerned that the old vampire would suck my own children into his web, but Peregrine was too free for that, and Guinevere preferred to live her live outside of this madness too.
                  Becky had a good influence. Do me a favour, be kind to her.
                  — You know what?… Yes of course you’d know,… but let me tell you, so that we can laugh together… I found myself really happy and free when I stole the two magical books out of the Old Fool’s clutch. God knows how he acquired them, but one thing was sure, he was obsessed with them. I couldn’t get the mummy, but the books were a great take.
                  — And a funny idea to give them to your cousin…
                  — Yes, Dorean was the perfect person. I couldn’t leave them anywhere, my father would have found them again. At least he wasn’t in good terms with his brother and sister-in-law, so they were safe in their care. And at least, they were more grounded than my father, the perfect keepers for the books… I’m wondering what happened to them…
                  — That will upset you, but Perry’s twins got them.
                  — Oh really?
                  — Yes, and they are having fun with them, as was intended.
                  — That’s fine then, and we are less obsessed now than we were before, so I guess my father isn’t as much as a pain in the butt as he was…
                  — You father meant good
                  — Yes, like everyone, but why can’t we leave people alone at times? People can sort out their issues without the commiseration, and the good intentions… It’s poison even worse… Like I can drink and still be healthy, and nice, and…

                  Sean started to sob.

                  — I know, darling, but you’re as much of a sore as your father was… You focus so much on what’s not going right, and you don’t even appreciate that you can talk with your departed wife… That was nothing as easy in the old days.
                  — Do you think my father talks with mum to?
                  — I think he would be too proud to admit he is sorry… That may hinder the communication… But Arty wouldn’t bear grudge now. When we let go of the physical, things become so clear, we can only be accepting of everything. Perhaps you prefer to wait for your father to cross over? I can tell you something, that won’t be easier. That much I know.
                  — You’re right. It’s just that I don’t know how to start…
                  — Be yourself, talk about what you enjoy, where is your passion now… Perhaps that is the problem. You’re drowning your passion in your scotch.
                  — You’re right… I’ll tell him Léan will have a baby.
                  — Oh, he’ll love it!
                  — How time flies… sighed Sean, I still remember the little sweetie as a blue-eyed laughing baby herself, with Oliver and Illana. She was the only one of the triplet to have inherited her mother’s dark complexion. She’s so beautiful…
                  — Let’s call your father darling
                  — Yes, let’s call him.

                  ***

                  Lord Wrick had not expected to received that call. Well, he had renounced it so long ago.
                  He had been a bit shaken, but also relieved. He had proposed, on an impulse, to invite that whole part of the family he barely knew, Sean’s new partner, and all their children for next Christmas in the castle. Sean had told him they would probably come with Becky but that the children were now having their own lives, and it would have to be for another time.

                  ***

                  Lord Wrick went to see Bill, who was now painting the portraits of Peregrine and Linda in the veranda.
                  He would probably have to stay longer, to paint a lot of new family portraits.

                  That probably would come perfectly, as ever, as the Lord could tell India Louise loved to spend time with the painter. Perhaps she would become an artist too… :sumari:

                  #348

                  The Assassin was already in the room when Baul came in… Baul wasn’t sure if he would have prefered him not to be here so he could himself gather his mind. But he was well used to camouflage his feelings and inner struggle and his face was quite smiling, as usual.

                  Looking at the Assassin’s face, Baul was feeling very uncomfortable, he almost winced… the bluish glow of the dagger tatoo on the forehead of the man was quite disgusting. Baul kept smiling though, he wouldn’t dare show his own weakness to anyone, especially an Assassin. His eyes were piercing his soul, if Baul had believed in such thing he would have run away, but he didn’t believe in anything except himself and the power of money.

                  As the Assassin was never talking first, Baul presented his offer putting the object he had brought on the table.

                  — Open the chest. You’ll find your paiement inside.

                  :fleuron:

                  Ar’Am Khra was waiting, still gazing sharply at Baul, making him feel even more uncomfortable.
                  The Assassin was quite impressed with how the man Baul could master his own reactions, and though he was quite intrigued by what his client had brought, he wanted to play for a few moments. With a very slight movement of his eyebrows, so slight one wouldn’t have notice, he managed to add an irritation in his look. He saw the movement of fear in his client’s face, but still it was so subtle he could have imagined it.

                  :fleuron:

                  Baul pushed the chest toward the Assassin, a bit nervous, but he could …. a sudden thought came to his mind, wandering like a Strokgnutch in a henhouse. He swallowed imperceptibly… Had someone already put a contract on his head? He managed a smile as he was opening the chest for the Assassin.

                  :fleuron:

                  This Baul was quite impressive. Ar’Am Khra had known what he was thinking as though he could read his mind.

                  He lowered his eyes to look at what was in the chest. He really desired being surprised by his clients, and this one had never failed to surprise him…

                  :yahoo_alien:

                  Once again…

                  :fleuron:

                  Baul was surprised as the Assassin wasn’t showing any hint of the slightest emotion at all… Would he show anything else than disdain even once!?

                  :fleuron:

                  — A glubolín :yahoo_alien:

                  #341
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    As Sean pushed open the door of the Dunloughpadraisobahairiedunkennyloughaire Arms, the swirling dampness of the Dublin street was transformed into a scene of noisy smoky conviviality. He pushed his way slowly through the crowd towards the bar, glancing up at Oscar the pub parrot, who was singing the refrain from The Irish Rover.

                    The usual, Padraig, Sean said to the barman, and a packet of cheese and onion crisps.

                    He found a stool to sit on next to a sticky ringed round table surrounded by plump gossiping matrons and wiry cloth capped men with bulbous red veined noses. Sean exchanged a few pleasantries with them about the weather, mainly about how unpleasant the weather always was, and then lapsed into reverie.

                    The Big Apple…..that’s what they used to call the famous city, before they renamed it New Venice. Sean was curious to see the changes, not least the bright yellow gondolas that had replaced the taxi-cabs in the watery streets.

                    On impulse, Sean fished his mobile telephone out of his pocket and dialed Tina’s number, but the line was engaged. He finished his pint of Guinness and called to Padraig to pull him another one. He tried Tina’s number again; this time a recorded message informed him that Tina had switched her telephone off.

                    An hour and a half and seven pints later, Sean gave up trying to phone Tina and lurched home to bed.

                    #230

                    Illi had not known as powerful an opponent as this other Illi.

                    At first, she had been remembered of stories of possession by evil sprites (or djinns) that she had heard in her youth, when Ibn al’ Gruk, the old angora storyteller was entertaining the desert settlement beating the rhythm with sonorous drums.

                    So, she had pushed, and rebelled, and fought, as fiercely as any other gripshawk skilled and trained in the hand-to-hand martial arts would have done.

                    But the other Illi wasn’t so easily vanquished.

                    Then Illi had collapsed. She had sorrowfully abandoned the fight to the dreaded adversary.

                    All of this had been occurring in a twinkle of an eye, but for Illi, the fight had been during ages and ages, while she was trying to focus on what BelleDora was explaining to her about the land where she was now.

                    And when she had abandoned the fight, everything was again so easy. She did not care any longer, she was free again. Her evil twin could do anything, it could not matter less.

                    But the evil twin had been in fact doing the same, and she had struggled to keep the focus coherent to her. Didn’t want stupid moth-looking people in her reality, or even spare hair on her face! But that other one was strong, and fierce. And stubborned too!

                    — Who are you? she finally had asked
                    — I’m Illi, had the other answered
                    — I am Illi.
                    — So we are both Illi
                    — Yeah, that may be it, but we are quite different.
                    — Are we? You feel quite like me, despite your stupid affection for smooth baby face.
                    — Well, wouldn’t it be for that, I can see some resemblance…
                    — Will you let me continue my trip?
                    — Oh, I would have, but you’ve hijacked mine, said Illi Fergusson.
                    — So you think.
                    — And where does your trip leads to? asked Illi F. who wasn’t too sure of her trip either
                    — From traveling portals to traveling portals, to discover all that can be discovered on this world. Magical creatures, I distrust them, but the lands and people are fascinating… And what about yours?
                    — Hmm, hmm, pondered Illi F. for a moment… Well, I’m dead actually, but I didn’t expect being dead to be so busy. There are so many things to discover, and I like that. I see funny looking people, and this looks like fun. Like a minute ago, I was in some kind of funny cave, with a parrot…
                    — A what?
                    — A parrot, you know, a kind of talking bird full of colours…
                    — Mmm, some kind of demonic creature for sure. Would have slain it without an hesitation!
                    — Hey! You see, that’s why I didn’t want you to come with me.
                    — Well, seems like for a moment, we don’t have much more choice…
                    — At least, look at the bright side, with us merged like that, each of us can provide the other one with some sound experience on each other’s worlds.
                    — Well, that’s not as airy-fairy as it seems…
                    — Well, thank you for that, I’ll take that as a compliment.
                    — You really are dreadfully serious at times!
                    — Hey, I’m not anybody you see. My parents were aristocrats, I’m not the common hairy lot.
                    — Ahahah, you’re funny.
                    — So are you!

                    And they ended laughing blissfully together.

                    After a moment, Illi asked again:

                    — Huh, a funny cave you said?
                    — Well, yes. With lots of people…
                    — Interesting… I was near some sort of strange cave too a while ago, that is, before I was found by this nice man and his dogs. Perhaps there is some connection here.
                    — And could you go there again?
                    — Not sure if I want to; there were some smelly fumes, smelt like demonic magic in there.
                    — Oh you see, for as long as I’ve been dead, well even if that’s not so long ago, anyway, the point is I’ve not seen any demon so far… blustered Illi F.
                    — Oh, and I have to take your word like that then?
                    — Well, do as you please, but I’m going there again…
                    — Just wait for me now, will you; let’s try to do things hand in hand, because you’re driving me mad!

                    And the deal was made.

                    BelleDora had continued to explain lots of things about her ancestors, but had not really noticed Illi’s attention had been so far away. She was a bit surprised when she found herself interrupted in a middle of a poetic depiction of the coastal plains of the Peninsula of the Dragon Head, where some glistening Capricorns were sometimes seen swimming in the creeks.

                    — And how do I get back safely to this hole where I was found? asked Illi abruptly.

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