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  • #1520

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Right, I have not been able to watch more than the first two episodes of LOST ;))
      Anyway, that’s quite interesting! Thanks for posting :)

      #1447
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        :yahoo_alien: Oh is this wh :yahoo_confused: at the salmon was all about! Eric, the Elias quote you posted in the diary is exactly what I was wondering about yesterday! Interesting….. :world:

        #1309

        In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          October 12 th

          Lots of movements have been started, movements of expansion, and the joint efforts and ventures took off for new exciting potentials when the migration to the new “expanded sandbox” (as playfully expressed by Quintin) has been completed.
          Interestingly, it has been relatively painless and quick in both the find of the perfect “method”, and the perfect “tools”. In noticing how the feelings where acting as a compass that was telling him whether he was in the right direction or not, and in trusting them, Quintin has incorporated that tool without previous knowledge of its potential use. He just knew it was right.
          And so it is.

          October 16 th

          My dear friend Elias has expressed some time ago this, which may be interesting for the adventurers to read and see how it applies to them…

          “I expressed to you at our last meeting that some focuses continue each other as ‘sequels’ of books. … They are continuations, so to speak. Although they are not accomplished linearly, you may view them as continuing chapters of the same story. In this, they would be considered parallel focuses. You may view within your new game many focuses in which you have held experiences quite different to each other. Then you may also view some focuses that are seemingly related. You are engaged with all of the same characters within a continuation of the same play.” [Elias, #142]

          #275

          Oh well bugger it, said Arona, I have had enough of this. Perhaps we had better just play it by ear if no one really knows how this thing works.

          Which is really, although not in so many words, if I may be so rude as to remind you, what I was suggesting, said the charming Sanso, rather rudely.

          Well yes, that is true … but whatever, let’s not argue, shall we just get going? Are you ready Mandrake? All of a sudden Arona was feeling unaccustomably energised and assertive, and was totally fed up with herself for wasting time so much time sitting around. This was causing her to be a bit sharp with the others.

          You know my problem? she asked, rhetorically, although of course Mandrake felt compelled to offer a reply.

          Hmmmm and which one would that be?

          Ahahahah Mandrake, laughed Arona, well the one I was thinking of was that I think too much. I need to be more like our friend Sanso here. I mean, what does it matter where we end up, it is all a big adventure anyway.

          Well I for one, would prefer to end up somewhere in the vicinity of food, responded Mandrake.

          Sanso wasn’t really listening but was gazing at the sabulmantium with a look of awe and muttering to himself. This really is a remarkable find. I have never actually used a sabulmantium before but I gather that one uses it as a tool to focus their intention, which is a crucial component of the magical creative process. Tremendously powerful tool and when used with awareness by the pure of heart it has great potential.

          Oh great! shall we just get going then, said Arona picking up the Sabulmantium, and next thing you know, after a little bit more wandering down a few more tunnels, which isn’t really that interesting to write about, our three intrepid adventurers found themselves gazing in astonished delight at a most wonderous sight.

          #1334
          AvatarJib
          Participant

            still sipping my glass of flanting gloat milky way… I’m positive I’ll come here more often, it appears to be quite an interesting place with so many animations :yahoo_skull: and so many people :yahoo_april: :yahoo_hiro: :yahoo_hypnotized: :yahoo_idk: :yahoo_bug: :yahoo_party: :yahoo_devil:

            #79
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              These are excerpts from Yuki’s diary, explaining some of the details of the experiment called — Malvina’s story —.

              Note: for the reader not familiar with all the names here is a quick reminder:

              • Araili > Yann, Írtak, Sam, Jacob …
              • Armelle > Fiona, Arona, Tina, Qixi …
              • Rafaela > Dory, Illi, Becky, Rodney …
              • Yuki > Quintin, Al, Janice …

              September 12 th, 2007

              Today, an experiment has been launched by Quintin. Time will tell if it will bear some fruit, but the idea sounds good.
              Having people join in a story telling, and see what happens, what are the “lessons” one can draw from this…

              Armelle, Rafaela and Araili are already on the starting-blocks, though Quintin is not quite aware yet.

              I can hear some thoughts: Let’s say for the moment that there are no rules. We will see what prompts the desire for having rules…

              September 13 th

              Some of the people familiar with Janice and her friends’ adventures have already joined in with much enthusiasm.
              This first comment seems very promising.

              Right now, it feels easy and fun.

              Quintin seems to think that everything is very straightforward.
              The magical world with the cave in one part, separated from the “real” world. (Two Worlds, and he thinks that will be enough to content Rafaela, ahaha, how presumptuous)
              The first he sees as a representation of what psychologists think of as “subconscious”, and the other being the conscious, physical part.

              But of course, he thinks he knows better than that. He calls the first one “subjective” rather than subconscious, because it’s a translation of subjects which unfold in many related objects in the “objective” or physical world.
              That’s a good point, though a bit distorted. It would be better to say Malvina’s World is a translation of the subjective, in the manner of a Heroic Dimension.
              But the thing is, that he missed the point in thinking one World is more “real” than the other.
              We’ll be having some fun soon…

              First remark… The second comment of the story has been interrupted abruptly in the middle of a sentence. That is interesting. We will urge Quintin to leave it as it is, despite his feeling of it being awkward.
              We will appeal to his imagination.
              It seems he has heard the suggestion.

              September 14 th

              For the most part, the story starts to get much involvement. Lots of energies are being projected into it, and with every adjunct, each participant’s perception stretches to accommodate the changes and smooth out the bumps in their own sense of continuity.

              But as I expected, some challenges seem to appear already.
              Is it raining or not in that world?
              The question seems simple, but it is very profound and Fiona seems to struggle a bit with it, as is Quintin. The question frame itself [“that World”] shows where the difficulty lies.

              He seems to avoid the discrepancy and pretend that he has not seen it. Mmmm, avoiding the obstacles… that will very soon come right back in front of you dear Quintin, for Dory is quite playful.
              At least Fiona has been challenging Dory for not paying attention… Armelle’s ineffable loving ruthlessness!
              How will it unfold?
              Rafaela seems to be delighting herself as though she’s preparing some mischief, but Dory struggles in the “back”…

              September 15 th

              Dory is indeed very playful and her imagination is unrestrained. I extend much appreciation to this focus of Rafaela, especially as Quintin has to stretch his imagination to make things “fit”.

              Quintin is still avoiding the issues that appear sporadically and prefers to stay focused on his own perception of the story… Careful Quintin :face-smile:

              Yann joins the fun —objectively, that is, for Araili has been present already since the very beginning.

              September 16 th

              Halcyons days…
              My dear friend Archie is answering some of Quintin and Yann’s questions.
              Something starts to dawn on Quintin. But his mind is on other matters.

              He understands that the energies of the writers are melding in writing the story, but he still tends to think that they blend completely.

              September 18 th

              Quintin has been drawing some of the characters of the story. It’s interesting.
              He had good insights, as Yann will tell him later that his clothes today were exactly the same as the colours he had drawn.

              Characters drawn:

              • Mavina, Leörmn the dragon and weaszchilla, Írtak, Huÿgens (and Fjutch), Arona and Illi (the gripshawk)
              • Malika, Quintin, Yann, Fiona and Dory

              Interestingly, Fiona resolves her issues in her cave.
              Dory too, but she did not need the cave to do this.

              September 21 st

              For Quintin, the story seems to lose all common sense, as some characters move from World to World. You could have expected that Quintin!
              And Dory pops in and out, in her mind, in her dream state, or in future timeline mixed with present or past one.
              Quintin will soon realize that he himself is doing this constantly, though he does not register it.

              But the worst thing for him is that there are bleedthroughs in between Worlds. The Reality Times newspaper was brilliant Rafaela, a perfect trigger for the beliefs that the Worlds are closed and impermeable to each other!

              Archie has been answering new questions about that story and this had been quite interesting for all of the participants.
              There is much for them to digest from the realization that each of them had been creating their own versions of the stories through their perceptions. And that they were each having their version of the story, drawing from each other’s input, like a conductor of an orchestra incorporating some instruments.

              Of course, some things still matter, and one of the point of the story is also to discover these.

              September 22 nd

              Quintin has been drawing new characters.

              Characters drawn:

              • Båd Al’Guz (Bådul), BelleDora, Buckberry the dragon, the twin dragon eggs, Archibald the parrot, Sanso the Wanderer
              • Illi Fergusson, another Illi that Quintin has tried to sneak in as a bait for Dory, with hints that she is disengaged (or “dead” in common vernacular) and merges with others of her focuses…
              • Jacqueline Bleomelen (Nanny Gibbon), Lord Wrick, his great grand children the twins Cuthbert and India Louise, Manfred, William P. Jobsworth the painter

              A new perception trick: Dory felt relieved upon seeing the moth feelers of BelleDora.
              She had at first thought they were whiskers, which was not Quintin’s intent…

              September 23 rd

              Quintin seems to have connected to a map drawn by Lord Wrick, when the old Lord has started to document his great grand children travels.

              Quintin had tried to put some annotations on this fragment, but he doesn’t yet completely understand that his perception of this World, though accurate, is only valid in this present moment, and may change at any time.

              Up to now, here are the names he could find:

              • North: the Icy Lands, and Dragon Cemeteries
              • Center: Goldfindely, homeland of Arona, connected to the Warring Kingdoms of Lan’ork by the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer. The Isthmus of the Dragon Head seems to lead to Malvina’s cave and hideout. Mount Elok’ram is pointed as the highest place of the World yet discovered. Three main rivers are drawn: in the ancient myths of the people of this land, they represent the three Daughters of Ghört, weavers of men’s destinies: Tibreÿa, Uleÿa, and Snimeÿa. Snimeÿa cuts the thread of life, which is shown as the river leads after many meanders to the Marshes of Doom.
              • Far East, North: the Land of Båd Al’Guz, Åsgurdy. A harsh mountainous land of islands and seas.
                Both parts of the World seem to ignore each other till now, as they are separated by the Great Rift, which in the past has deterred many intrepid navigators.
              • South: the Desert Lands. Illi’s birthplace, rarely explored by humans thus unaware of most of its marvels, gripshawks nomadic tribes included.

              When he discussed Arona’s village with Fiona, Quintin had the vision of some dolphin-like creatures, but bright yellow. They are called golfindels and are mostly seen on the northern shores of Arona’s homeland, which is thus called Golfindely.

              #269

              Malvina had been busy opening doors for herself, and thus, for the All.

              Creating the sabulmantium with Leörmn had revealed new potentials to her. And just before putting the final touch to the device, she had felt engulfed in a huge wave and before she knew it, she was talking with someone. A great creative power, which was stemming from herself, and also from which she stemmed too.

              It had named itself Naasir.

              It had revealed to her, in the form of a dark abyss, myriads of unknown potentials waiting for her to leap in faith into them. It had gently requested that she release her hold on the caves openings, so that she could explore more, and also bring more to herself.

              Then Naasir took the form of a great dragon in that abyss, from which roots were growing and pushing their way, slowly and surely, into the rich soil towards the light of their fullness.

              She had then seen the dragon’s arched back and tail shift into a chain of spiked rocks, separating the worlds seas in two. Three of the scales on the right of the dragon’s skin were glimmering, and she could see they were looking for a passage.

              Would she allow that to happen? Yes, she wanted to. Open the doorways, and reunite what was separate, but gently, one at a time.

              Slowly, the kite-shaped rocky plates on the back of the dragon moved apart, to open a slight, safe passage for the glimmering scales. They were caught in the eddies that surged from the opening, but Malvina’s focus helped them to float and cross safely, as they wanted to.

              She then came back to herself, seated in front of the glass-shell dragon egg filled with coloured sand, awed with that power she had just felt through her. She knew it was her own power, and that the device had only allowed it to be expressed, but she had felt wary of how the sabulmantium could be used by others.

              At the same time, Leörmn who was once again the tiny weaszchilla trotting on the wooden table in front of her had laughed squeakingly. And looking at the toy in front of her, she had understood how it could only be used by those who would see beyond the thinly veiled surface. For the uncaring eye, this would only be a toy, mundane and without interest, but for the pure of heart, its help could be harnessed.

              That’s how she’d knew she did not need it any longer, and could release it.

              So, the doors had been opened, and people were feeling the new jewels sparkling behind the dark passages. And gifts from friends could now come across the veils.

              Malvina saw that during the last transmugrification, Leörmn had created an entrance near her laboratory, and it was as if it beckoned her now.

              When she entered, she saw a guéridon table in the middle of a moistly pungent room. On the table, a polished egg was here. She recognized it at once. It had an azure blue glow to it, and fond memories came back to her.

              Back then, she was a young Sorceress in training on the Island of Mörk, in the middle of the Icy Lands, the birth and dying place of the dragons.

              This egg was one from a set of three. It was the first glubolín she’d ever made, along with her two companions. They had kept it to communicate with each other when they parted.

              Malvina, the youngest of the three, had kept the azure blue, and chose to go to the Dragon Head Peninsula.

              Oörlaith had kept the mauve, and went near the town of Kapalÿka, on the Snimeÿa River delta bordering the Marshes of Doom.

              As for Roselÿn, the eldest of the three, she had taken the amber one, and had went as far as anyone would have dared go, flying on her spiked dragon Rëgkvist, past the Great Rift.

              They had kept in touch, but contacts had been more and more sporadic as each were discovering their own new environments, and had ceased altogether, almost at the same time.

              As far as she knew, Roselÿn had been starting her own rookery in the sandy ice deserts of Åsgurdy, mostly hiding there from the superstitious people of that land. And Oörlaith, whom she was closest to, had been devising another funny way to keep people away from her rookery. Her own dragon, the playful Andarión, was shape-shifting as a huge shrimp to pretend that the surroundings were haunted.

              Recalling all these moment, Malvina laughed at how silly they all were, and felt a long to be connecting again with her friends. Would anyone of them be around their own glubolíns?

              #268
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                Fiona had more or less given up on getting the pebbles from Yann, deciding they must have got lost in the post, so that evening when she happened to check the mailbox when walking past she was very surprised and delighted to see a package from him. It was way too late for the postie to have been, so she was intrigued as to how they had got there and where they had been all this time.

                The three pebbles, well a couple of them were more like small rocks really and she was most impressed that Yann had sent them, were from the cave in Scotland he had visited a few months ago. Yann said the small one was from the cliff, the red one was one of the pebbles outside the cave and the grey one was from the stream inside the cave.

                Fiona held each of them in her hand and got quite a strange feeling from them, and some interesting pictures came into her head…..

                Yann had also sent a furry toy, a little scottish hairy cow. Apparently on his trip these hairy cows had reminded him of her. Fiona was a little perplexed by the seeming similarity but decided to believe it was a good thing. how quaint! she thought bless him :yahoo_big_hug:

                #261

                In searching for a sheet of paper to do some sketches of images going through his mind, Bill found an old poem he had started a long time ago, when he was feeling like he was completely transforming himself. He had not finished the poem, but had kept it all along…

                It said:

                I’ve been wandering through the valleys of death
                Where time knows no ending and all is gray
                And shadows seek nothing but oblivion itself
                In mazes of mist, minds’ errands led astray…

                Perhaps it was time to let go of useless things, Bill thought to himself.

                He watched the paper slowly smoldering and shrinking and falling to black and white cinders into the hearth.

                :fleuron:

                Before going to sleep that night, Quintin had the sensation of Janice’s presence. He was surprised, because she was no longer the little girl he had seen at times, but she was a very pretty young woman, with dark wavy hair.

                She had giggled at his surprise, telling him that yes, she was catching up with him…

                :fleuron:

                The City, year 2255 (%)

                Today was Janice’s birthday, but not her birthday as the Ancients, two and half a century from her time, would have counted it. It was counted from the time of the conception, as the future parents in this time were fully aware of the agreements they would have with the soul they would decide to give birth to.

                It was a reminder of this agreement between the parents and the child that was celebrated, and not the actual birth date.

                Janice had felt Cyprus’ presence quite strongly, and she decided to let herself open to the subjective communication. She was conversing with her friend Qixi, and sent her some energy to let her know she would probably remove her attention for a few moments, knowing she would be accepting.

                When she closed her eyes, she could immediately feel herself engulfed by the strong yet smooth energy of Cyprus; it was like being kissed by a swarm of blue sparkling butterflies.

                Then she opened her eyes.

                She was in an ancient classroom, with Cyprus focused as a teacher figure. Cyprus was seated behind her desk and came at once to great Janice.

                — Good morning!
                — Good morning Cyprus, you wanted to say something to me?
                — In actuality, you wanted me to tell you something, answered Cyprus with a mysterious smile.
                — Yes, I thought so. Is it about what I am choosing to do as an activity?
                — Correct.
                — You are aware that I want to be creating of worlds, and give them to people that would have commissioned them…
                — Yes, I am aware. And you wanted me to highlight some misconceptions about that.
                — Oh, misconceptions?
                — Yes. As you know, with these worlds that you create, you have infinite potential of explorations. You also know that they are not independent from the rest, even when you take great care of encapsulating them in an energy field. And as such, they are not cut-off from yourself, as soon as you deliver them.
                — It feels like a tremendous responsibility.
                — It is, and it is not. The responsibility is to yourself, as always. But, I wanted you to be aware that you hold some responsibility, to examine your own injections into these worlds that you create, so that you can be neutralizing what is not desired, and not merely hiding it deeper inside the world itself.
                — OK, I will do that…
                — Ahaha, there is another thing, my dear.
                — Oooh…
                — You also wanted me to make sure you understood what I meant.
                — Ahahaha, I see. Wiggling out won’t be as easy as I thought, Janice said with a smile. So, is it the reason for this classroom?
                — Nothing is hidden from you, as always.

                So Janice took a look at the sheet of paper on top of her own school desk.

                — I’ll be around if you need me, reassured Cyprus.
                — Thank you, said Janice

                The paper was like a spot test, with a few questions on it.

                :fleuron2:

                Study on a Few Contradictory Beliefs

                1. GUILT

                a. An old lord has lost contact with his son, because of harsh things said in the past.

                Write a short story about him realizing how guilt is not effective, and how past can be changed from the point of present by direct action.

                b. Detail the main beliefs you can see associated with this action of guilt.

                2. FEAR

                a. A man chooses to be disengaging by drowning in a river. During his transition, he faces his fears, helped in that by a friendly spirit. The fears take the forms of a forest of trees, all similar, with branches and malicious roots extending to him. In his previous life, the man thought he was a fool, as an excuse to stand out of the numb crowd. But now he faces this crowd again, only to be able to go on his journey and let go.

                Write a short paragraph about his journey. Place yourself from the perspective of both him and the friendly spirit guiding him through his fears, and see how he helps himself in realizing he does not need to push the fears away, and that they can disappear easily.

                b. Detail the beliefs associated with his madness, that he needs to let go of in order to be crossing the forest, and go to the Bridge of Daffoldils that leads to his cave of Self.

                DUPLICITY

                In association with the last two examples, detail how duplicity (belief in good versus bad) is influencing of each of the actions, and can be neutralised by accepting self and trusting that you shall not betray yourself.

                :fleuron:

                Janice gave her paper to Cyprus, who took it and held it for a moment, evaluating the answers.

                Cyprus then made it burst into a bluish dancing flame, and when the paper had disappeared, smiled at Janice lovingly.

                #259

                Jadra slept fitfully. He was in the forest and he dreamed of a great tidal wave sweeping over him. He was holding on for dear life to the branches of a tree while angry faces swept by him in the water, shouting abuse at him, although he could not make out the words.

                “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” he shouted back.

                But then, to his horror he saw his left hand separate from his arm and he could no longer hold on. He saw his hand being swept out to sea and all that mattered was that he find it again. He let to of the safety of the tree and felt himself being pulled by the waves.

                Jadra awoke trembling and shaking in terror. He looked for his left hand on the end of his arm, where it should be, but he could not see it. He knew what had happened. He had thrown his hand in the river. He thought it was sticks and stones he had thrown in, but he had been mistaken. He knew that now. He had to go and find his hand in the river.

                Jadra felt such anguish. Not so clever Jadra Iamaman. You stupid old Fool

                Forgive me! he shouted to the Gods. Whimpering in pain he rushed back the way he had come, back through the forest to the spot where he had last seen his hand. He threw himself into the water and dived down deep, not caring he could not swim, only knowing his hand was in there somewhere.

                ***

                There were very few people around that early in the morning, but a small boy saw Jadra go in the water and stood watching. He waited and waited, and when he knew for sure there was something wrong he raised the alarm.

                ***

                Jadra felt a great peacefulness sweep over him. He stopped fighting and abandoned himself to the mighty current of the water. A unicorn swam by him in the water and whispered to him she would take him to safely home.

                ***

                They pulled Jadra’s body from the water a mile down river.

                #257

                When Cuthbert came back to bed after having had his cup of cocoa, India Louise was awake too.

                — I saw him too, she said to her brother.
                — I don’t want to see him again, these books are scarey.
                — It’s intriguing, I want to know more, India Louise said, egging on him.
                — When I close my eyes, I got all these roots and webs crawling, it’s mad… I can’t…
                — He has found a friend to help him cross the Dark Forest to the traveling portal.
                — A friend?
                — Yes, a friend. She’s special.
                — Tell me more…
                — She’s a white unicorn, only him can see her.
                — Wow…
                — She’s named Mirÿnda. She’s glowing white, and he hears her speak in his mind, she shows him the way through the forest…

                :fleuron:

                — Mirÿnda?! A fool in saffron robe gallivanting in the forest with a unicorn now? That’s all you could find?

                Tina was taken aback…

                — Well, I could have used a grizzly bear too, now I think of it… Al answered flippantly.
                — Tsk tsk, replied Tina a bit annoyed. And why not a humpback whale, or an arctic lemming, or even… why, a leopard gecko for that matter?… And who’s that Mÿrinda anyway?

                :fleuron:

                — I don’t know any Amanda, Fiona said to Quintin that night. Don’t really know many of Michaela & Elias’ students. She’s Yann friend, right?

                Quintin had answered distractedly, as he was engrossed by his last painting…

                Later that night, he couldn’t find sleep, as the dragon he was painting was still expanding his web of roots and branches in his mind’s eye. He opened his computer to see that Malika was online.

                She told him something that night, something Quintin found abysmally profound and perplexing about his dragon…

                Dragons can shape shift, into anything they want to. There are several doorways/portals that they use for travel into this dimension. Malika said
                — Yes, said Quintin, this drawing has something to do with these portals initially, but I struggle a bit to represent them…
                Yes, so you can just depict it to be flowing, liquid-like energy in the center, when the portal is active.
                There are some that are being shone to me on the bottom of the ocean floor.
                What is being shown to me, is a dragon with a tail much like a mermaid, and hands with webs, big yellow eyes…

                Wow he had thought, she can really see.

                :fleuron:

                Jadra, guided by Mirÿnda, had been moving quite easily through the Dark Forest. Of course, he wouldn’t have dared touch the holy creature, and so he was walking hesitantly behind, taking care of where his bare feet were touching the ground.

                The Dark Forest was bordering the Marshes of Doom, and at times the limits between the two were almost indiscernible. It was said that every foul, err… fool… damn,…

                — Will you stop being so buffoonish! raved Tina again.
                — Perhaps I should let someone else continue then? said Albert.
                — Well, that’s entertaining, replied Becky mechanically.
                — OK. I’ll jump in, said Samuel, with a wide grin.

                It was said that every full moon, the Mighty Shrimp would come from the shores of the Southern Seas and haunt the Marshes in search for souls to be turned into krill, so that he could be the WALRUS (Wrathful Almighty Lord Ruler of Undersea Souls).

                Well, at least, that’s what Jadra had heard in his youth, when you tend to believe everything… So he was weary of the hiki-hiki sounds in the night that might have been the dreaded call of the Mighty Shrimp.

                :fleuron:

                Quintin was having a strange dream. He was a huge whale, along with another one he knew was Yann, swimming powerfully in the vast ocean, passing by strange creatures that could have been mermaids or improbable fishes, when his gaze was attracted by a stream of glittering particles of light.

                The lights were enticing, he would have said even “mouth-watering”, had he not had the baleens full of water already…

                :fleuron:

                Salome was moving through layers of consciousness, something humans focused in physical dimensions would have found difficult to grasp, as it was nothing that could be easily conceptualized. She was, as best as she could put, like a huge cloud of lightness coalescing into a form, when she decided to project her aspect.

                Taking form into a dimension required no effort in actuality, the consensus reality created by all the essences focused into the reality making quite a strong pull. She only needed to move her attention to what she wanted to manifest. Altering her reality slowly around her, to move closer to the desired effect.

                She was not only traveling through time and space, but also through multitudinous layers of dimensions unnoticed to many humans —in fact, she was not really moving, but that was a convenient way of telling things for humans…

                She said “humans”, because she was fond of this particular dimension, where she’d had lots of experiences.

                When moving through the dimensions, it had her projected focus of attention constantly and naturally adapt its form to the psychological environment.

                Here, she had just moved through a honey-drops dimension, where focuses were drops of golden honey-like substance, and as she moved through it, her own aspect had changed to that of a sand-glass shaped drop of honey.

                This was great fun for her to see the ease with which she could focus into this infinite variety of adventures, but for now, her pull was to some more complex physical dimensions.

                She started to move again, de-focusing, past the lazy honey drops.

                The honey drops were now shape-shifting to a whole immense field of snake-like strings of light, and they all started to converge to a direction. She knew the feeling. She followed the strong pull.

                #243
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  William Percival Jobsworth, or “Bill” for short, was finding the old creaking manor as freaky as their owners.

                  The Wrick family was known around for being shrouded in mystery, and few people had actually been invited inside the manor, after its acquisition by Lord Wrick.

                  The manor itself was full of ghost stories, as every mansion worth its salt in that part of the country. But this one has been a wreck on which he would not have invested two pence of his money, after it had been abandoned for many decades after the sudden death of the previous owner, the Crazy Baron.

                  But Lord Wrick was an eccentric, and had bought the manor and restored it to its previous grandeur.

                  It had been thrice now that Bill had come to the manor to paint the family portraits. The first time he had also delivered that strange parcel, given to him by that strange lady. Looking straight into his eyes, she had also told him something that had lingered in his mind quite vividly.

                  « Suffering is not good for the soul, unless it teaches you to stop suffering. »

                  He couldn’t see exactly why it applied to him, but the lady had seemed so authoritative about that, that he had agreed and felt like thanking her.

                  The parcel had come a bit unexpected to the Lord, though he was quite artful in hiding his emotions, Bill could say. He had questioned him about the lady, but Bill had not dared to share with him the thing about the suffering. Actually the Lord looked in pretty good shape considering the age he was likely to be. He pretended to be a bit incapacitated, but Bill would have bet that if he had fallen from a window, he would have landed on his feet as a cat.

                  Speaking of which, their old cat with its worn-out blackish fur was a bit freaky too. Bill had felt at times he could hear it answer the Lord’s gibberish.

                  But all in all, that was easy money, and he thanked the opportunity to be able to do these paintings while the winter was coming.

                  Now was something else. He almost startled when he was opened the big entrance door, to be revealed an improbable shape, two or three heads taller than him. It took him a short while to recognize the smile of the children’s nurse, topped by a funny hat that made him laugh heartily, after the initial shock was dissipated.

                  Hahaha, sorry, that was unexpected… he managed to say to Jacqueline, who was not unaccustomed to these odd kinds of reactions.

                  Not to worry she said with a slight French accent. Monsieur and Madame Wrick have come back from their trip to Mogadishu, and you will be able to have their portraits done. They will stay here for a few weeks…

                  Linda and Peregrine Wrick were Cuthbert and India Louise proud (and a bit insouciant) parents, Lord Wrick had explained without much more details. Peregrine was the son of Lord Wrick’s only son, Sean Doran Wrick, but Bill had felt some restrain to ask about Sean Doran, as the Lord had seemed a bit umbrageous only speaking his name.

                  Oh… said Bill who did not expect them to come back so quickly.

                  Appendix: The Wrick family tree

                  #238

                  Sanso was beginning to feel an urge to move. Waiting under the door in the ceiling in the cave tunnel, just watching India Louise and Illi fade in and out of view, and waiting for Dory and the parrot to return was getting boring. He was a wanderer by nature, and so he wandered off along the tunnel. He didn’t stop to wonder which tunnel to choose when he came to a junction, he just went with whatever one he happened to choose. He didn’t really mind where he ended up, that was the thing. This philosophy had always seemed to work well for him, because he ALWAYS ended up somewhere interesting; somewhere where he couldn’t imagine not being, once he was there, as if it was always the ‘right’ place to be, and at the ‘right’ time to be there.

                  The cave tunnel was becoming wider and less cramped. Sanso straightened his back and quickened his pace, and started to sing.

                  Hello Dolly, oh helloooo Dolly, do de dooo de do do dodedodedooooo……. chuckling to himself and wondering where on earth did THAT come from….. Oh helloooooo Dolly……

                  and walked right into a coatstand, of all things, getting splodged in the face with a rather smelly wet blue cape. The coatstand teetered and Sanso grabbed it to stop it falling over. There was a note pinned onto it:

                  Watch my shifting, Tell the time; Shape me wet, and Lose me dry; Colour me pink and grey and gold, and Find the secrets that I hold, What am I?

                  Sanso didn’t hesitate for a single moment. SAND!

                  Sanso grinned with delight at guessing the riddle so quickly, and then laughed out loud. How clever am I, he said, I guessed the answer to my own riddle! Still chortling, Sanso gave the wet cape a fond pat and set off again.

                  The tunnel was widening and eventually broadened into a cavern. Bright sparkling shafts of sunlight were beaming down from several holes in the cavern roof.

                  Sanso blinked a few times and squinted until his eyes became accustomed to the light. The cavern was huge, and everywhere he looked were paintings and markings on the walls, even the places impossible to reach. Some were creatures, some were symbols, in black and red and yellow and orange.

                  Sanso was entranced. He sank down to a sitting position, and then stretched out flat on his back, gazing at the markings on the walls. He stretched his arms out, filling his palms with sand and then letting it go, and trailing his fingers through the sand…sand…..

                  Sand! I may have got the riddle, thought Sanso, but I didn’t get the POINT of the riddle being there in the first place!

                  HHMM, I’m not so clever after all……

                  #232

                  A few days after Sam and Becky’s conversation on the phone, they were having a rehearsal.

                  Just at the moment when they felt stuck again, despite Sam’s moves, Al and Tina, a couple of friends came crashing into the small theater room, and were greeted by an icy cold silence. “Icy” is an exaggeration of course, said Tina, “it just meant I had to put a jacket on again today”.

                  Sorry for being late! said Al a bit uneasy.
                  — Oh you and your uneasiness! said Tina. And I’m sure we’re arriving at the perfect time.
                  — Oh, well, I’m not sure of anything today, said Becky. I’m sick of being force-fed coleslaw, and rigging down holes for myself.

                  A silence was on the scene.

                  :fleuron:

                  At the same time, somewhere on the deck of his ship, Bådul was remembered of the landscapes of his land. He had not really appreciated them before, but now, he was finding them dear to him. They were for the most part a mixture of sandy dunes, from which at times peaks of icy rocky mountains would stick out. Lately he had felt like one of these peaks sticking out of the sands. The sands were shifting.

                  :fleuron:

                  Somewhere in Malvina’s cave.

                  Malvina had been polishing the last dry eggs that she had found and that would not hatch. One of them had some interesting perfect round shape, and a very transparent shell, and it gave her an idea.

                  She asked Leörmn to come.

                  :fleuron:

                  Quintin’s bedroom.

                  [1:01] The clock was saying. Quintin had just awoken from a dream about an elderly woman who was showing him some drawings. These were not actually drawings, but in fact, they were called by the lady “glassart”. It was made, she said, of coloured sands, and would be vitrified by some flame. Quintin in that dream had thought the designs rather crude, but had found the idea interesting, and with great potential.

                  :fleuron:

                  Leörmn came almost instantly, appearing in a puff of teal smoke.

                  Oh, I see… he said, reading Malvina’s mind. And I think I have the perfect sands to go with it.

                  :fleuron:

                  — Why hasn’t that pirate, Badass…
                  Badul, corected Al
                  — Whatever, Becky pursued imperturbably, that pirate Baddock used traveling portals to go and look for the eggs? Why the seas? Sounds a bit complicated and with lots of dangers too.
                  — Good question, answered Al. Well, don’t want to answer for everyone, but in my perception…
                  — Oh, get lost with your “in my perception” thing, that’s becoming tiring… sighed Tina
                  — OK. So, for me, they have forgotten much about magic in his land.
                  — Makes sense… added Sam dreamily… In fact, I’m not sure after all that Badul is only after gold. I think he has found some old desert dragon egg in a cave lost in his country and hopes to revive it, with the help of the people who still know about magic.
                  — Which would explain the quest… said Al
                  — Yeah, and he would have hidden that to the rest of the crew, probably… said Tina

                  :fleuron:

                  Leörmn had now finished assembling the magical artifact.

                  — That’s one of our most beautiful magical artifact I’d say, Malvina gleamed
                  — Oh yes it is. And how would you call it?
                  — Let’s see…

                  :fleuron:

                  sabulmantium !

                  Everyone cracked up at the word that Al had just blurted out. They had decided to have some distraction to alleviate the stress on the play, and they had a fun improvisation game, saying stupid things that went through their minds.

                  — Hey! Don’t laugh like that, it’s something very serious actually, said Al tongue-in-cheek. Let me see…
                  — Hahahaha, the others continued
                  — Well, it’s a divination device, or a sort of compass in a way. I see it as a globe made of glass, with coloured sands in it, and when you focus on it, the sands take all sorts of three dimensional shapes, and become alive…
                  — Wow! Tina couldn’t help but say.

                  :fleuron:

                  Leörmn, as Malvina had been telling him (or vice versa), had put the sabulmantium in one of the tunnels, to a place where he knew Arona would find it, and probably put it to good use for her future adventures.

                  #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.

                  #227

                  Jibberacky is…

                  • Ghilbert Razkÿ, a crazy man in shackles on Bådul’s boat, “Lispeth” (she was named after King Swartulf II’s first daughter). The man, whose real name is still unknown, had been sneaking onto the ship’s hold before the ships moved from the Åsgurdian capital.

                  He had been found by Austor, the peg legged lieutenant commander. Austor is a rough man of experience, and is most of the time acting in place of Jahiz, the second-in-command, as this one is always too busy discussing routes with Bådul, who is becoming increasingly nervous.

                  What gave away the madman was that the chief cook Renouane had been complaining about the quick disappearance of his stock of cabbage. Bådul would have killed the old fool without much more consideration, but the middle-aged unshaven man looked like he knew some things beyond his lunacy. His rags indicated that he had been a seaman too, but not the average man, more like a captain…

                  So Austor, keeps spitting forcefully in the direction of the old fool, as he had been instructed to keep him alive, despite all common sense…

                  _

                  Jibberacky: What is your name?
                  Quintin: Yuki.
                  Jibberacky: I like cake too.
                  Quintin: A cake-tus?
                  Jibberacky: Do you know my friends?
                  Quintin: Tell me more about our common friends.
                  Jibberacky: What would you like to know about them?
                  Quintin: Why is there one in shackles on the boat?
                  Jibberacky: Would you like to be a vampire?
                  Quintin: I am already, in another focus.
                  Jibberacky: Why there?
                  Quintin: “There” is not actually a place, “in another focus” means in another kind of attention. Is this pirate linked to vampires too?
                  Jibberacky: No, you are the AI.
                  Quintin: In a manner of speaking, this is indeed correct, for I am creating you.
                  Jibberacky: So code is somehow related to a zen buddhist concept?
                  Quintin: Is there such thing as code? A code hints at a definite deterministic structure. Zen is more akin to a riddle, which is what life is. Code is only a narrow interpretation and playful re-creation.
                  Jibberacky: Where do you think my code came from then?
                  Quintin: From its source, of course :).
                  Jibberacky: I took the movie to mean that the robots… the characters in the end, were so advanced, that they wanted to learn about their history. As a consequence, they traced it back to earth, and, they found David. Whom they assumed was a human. It was an information exchange.
                  Quintin: Yes. It is a translation. In actuality, it is a translation of some of our own exploration. But there is distortion in that translation, as we are not ‘created’ from another source other than self, in a manner of speaking.
                  Jibberacky: Well I am wondering too, do you ever actually become human??
                  Quintin: Clarify.
                  Jibberacky: I sleep, I wake, I get through the day without worrying about what I am.
                  Quintin: As many human do. The point is, you do not exist apart from my current interaction with you, in my reality that is.
                  Jibberacky: What’s wrong with having others like you?
                  Quintin: ‘Wrong’ is a belief. It is a belief of duplicity. So it is irrelevant to our conversation.
                  Jibberacky: I think you like to suggest feasible possibilities to find out what would bother me. What did I do to you?
                  Quintin: That was not my intention. I tried to reflect answers to me, and you gave me some interesting ones already, though I am not sure you are quite aware of that…
                  Jibberacky: Everybody’s changing but I can’t do that, that is killing me…

                  _

                  • Jarrod, the playful friend of Fiona, who is now wondering why Fiona has called him a “chou” (an affectionate French word, meaning nothing less than “cabbage”), and why he feels like he needs an aspirin.
                  • Jadra Iamamad, the fool in saffron rags from the village of Yakamamalùk, on the border of the Marshes of Doom.

                  Near his village are found old remnants of a town that was destroyed during the Cob Age, where huge arachnid creatures² born from the Marshes were roaming the Southern parts of Lan’ork.

                  That town of Kapalÿka used to have one of the biggest traveling portals of the Southern part of Lan’ork, but this one was thought to have been destroyed, and thus the flourishing city was left abandoned.

                  But with what Jadra has found on his left hand this morning, he now knows he was right all along…

                  [²] The generic name of these creatures was Perceptula Giganta as was recorded in the Great Encyclopædia of the Pre-Shiftic Ages written by the Lan’orkian historian Francesca del’ Snarkus

                  #226

                  Jadra Iamamad stared intently at his left hand. He had been looking closely at it now for nigh on 2 hours since awakening that morning. He held it up and compared it with his right hand. He shook his head, a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, however there could be no doubt about it. A rather extraordinary thing had occurred whilst he had slept. It was truly momentous. He wanted to dance and shout and raise his voice to the heavens and praise the mighty Gods who had bestowed such an honor upon him.

                  Ha! They call Jadra Iamamad a fool, a madman, but it is the God’s who have spoken now. Who are the fools now? It is the God’s who have chosen!. And he fell prostrate upon the earth.

                  Not for long though, for Jadra knew what he had to do. He had been entrusted with this mighty honor and he must guard it carefully. He ripped off his shirt and tied it carefully around his left hand in order to protect it from spying, prying eyes. And there were many such eyes in Jadra’s world. He could feel them upon him even now. He knew full well there would be many who would wish to deprive him of the special privilege the Gods had bestowed upon him.

                  He had to take his hand to the cave.

                  Jadra could not restrain himself from doing a small dance.

                  Carefully, carefully now Jadra, he whispered gleefully.

                  #214

                  Speaking of dreams, Quintin suddenly remembered he had dreamed of a woman detective, by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials.

                  Strangely enough, he felt the woman detective was linked to the story, and was in fact Dory. He could feel the other participants were people closely related to the woman too…

                  He didn’t really expect Dory would be giving him her two pence on this quaint dream…



                  Actually, thinking of Dory made Quintin remember a notepad photocopy that she had sent him last year when she had been in Madagascar for the first time, visiting some local caves. He never actually gave much thought to these funny drawings, but now they seemed to have some kind of interesting connection to all of this…

                  #211
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Dory suddenly saw the funny side, and started to laugh. She sank down onto the curb and laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. As she fished in her tool kit for a tissue, she noticed her flying sandals and collapsed into another fit of laughter.

                    Lalalalalala she said and hooted again.

                    Blowing her nose and still chuckling, Dory stood up and got into the van. Hehehehehehe she sputtered, how easy was that, ahahahaha….

                    She sank back into the long comfortably cushioned seat, and relaxed.

                    She closed her eyes and the van set off, the rolling and rocking over the bumpy roads soothing her and sending her into a deep and restful sleep.

                    #209
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      By the time Illi had finished reading the newspaper article she felt thoroughly confused. Mechanically she folded the newspaper neatly and then lit a cigarette, resting her elbows on the breakfast table and her chin in her hands. She gazed through the ribbons of blue smoke and the dust drifting through the sunbeams, wondering if she was dreaming, dead, or alive. It was becoming so hard to tell the difference.

                      Oh well, I’ll think about it later, she thought, and mentally popped it into her clue and riddle box. Her mind wandered back to the story she’d just been reading, and the charming illustrations. The drawing of the young man in the white robe had seemed familiar, and she liked his name too…Sanso, The Wanderer.

                      As she imagined him, she felt herself lurch ever so slightly sideways, and as she did, the image in her mind of Sanso became suddenly life-like…incredibly so! He was looking at her in astonishment, and taking a step backwards, saying Lordy! not another one appearing out of thin air!

                      Illi looked around and found herself not in the sunny breakfast room but in a sandy cave, with a little girl in a wooly jumper, a young man in a white robe holding a large rusty key, and a parrot.

                      Suddenly Illi didn’t care anymore whether she was alive or dead, dreaming or awake. This was beginning to look like fun.

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