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  • #627

    Franiel offered his congratulations to Aum Geog along with the others. He did not mind that he was not himself chosen to succeed Hrih Chokyam, and neither would he have expected it, however he felt the physical absence of the Old One keenly. His powerful presence had cloaked the whole monastery in a sweet warmth, and even though Franiel had only been there a short while, he had felt close to the Old One. Of course his spirit will always be here, but the same time Franiel knew change was inevitable, and he was unsure of his own place within the boundaries of the monastery. Happiness and fun were valued highly by Franiel, they were more important to him than all the spiritual ideals others would speak of, and he had felt a slight greyness of late. He found humility difficult and did not enjoy following rules, neither did he enjoy listening to the wisdom of the other brothers. At times his sense of humor would cause them to frown upon him. He knew the Old One had understood this, but now he was gone he wondered how he would fit. He pulled out the note Jog Lam had given him from Hrih Chokyam, Listen to your heart…. it began. What was his heart telling him?

    Brother Franiel!. He heard the voice of Aba Tane calling him. The Brothers were shortly meeting to hear Aum Geog speak, presumably to announce the new direction for the monastery.

    Brother Franiel, Aum Geog has requested you take this chalice to the Village, so the silversmith may engrave it with these words. Aba Tane handed Franiel a cup, and a piece of paper with a seal. He requested you should go right away and that you should remember that the cup is precious. He requested also that I sprinkle you with some Holy Water to safeguard you on your way. In customary manner, Franiel knelt and Aba Tane sprinkled the precious bottled water on his forehead. Love and Light, Brother Franiel. Blessings for your journey.

    It was several days walking down the mountain to the Village. To be honest though, it was a task Franiel welcomed, perhaps to be away from the monastery at this time would give him a chance to better hear what was in his heart, and to miss the meeting was no loss for him.

    He wondered at the haste, and at what the words might be, however it was not his business to question the directives of Aum Geog. He remembered also his dream of the silver goblet. Many things to ponder, he mused, a feeling of excitement growing within him.

    #1316

    In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      January 4 th, 2008

      A communication about legends, to complement what Yurick had connected to during his sleep, with ties with the dimension of Alienor, and possibly counterparts within his dimension

      Starry sky, eternal and boundless waft of dreams and legends…

      Many if not all of the physical dimensions possess legends. Legends of their beginnings, and legends of their ends.
      The language which legends speak is a language of symbols, and though many of the receivers of legends are prone to erect them as absolute and faithful accounts of historical soundness, they are much more mutable and protean than what may be commonly thought of them.
      They are connections, bridges from a locus (point in time/space) drawn as a frontier between what is known of the now, in which civilizations of these worlds are thriving, and a locus which is forgotten, or beyond the commonly perceived world.
      As such, they essentially represent boundaries.

      And of course, boundaries are only boundaries because they serve a purpose. Much like boundaries drawn on maps are not necessarily representing actual obstacles which cannot be physically crossed. These are mere perceptive frontiers, which tie in the various developments of history and societal relationships.
      When the civilizations, or species, as you understand them, come close to one of these perceptive boundaries, there is an interaction with the very nature of the boundary, which is receptive to the inception of volition to cross the perceptive limitation.
      And a process of reshaping and expending the borders takes place, by means of insertion of new legends.

      Legends, in that way of seeing things, are not necessarily old dusty accounts sung by blind bards with jovian white beards. Not quite. They are much alive. They are created and recreated in the instant where boundaries of perceptions are being tempered with. Which makes it important to notice that they are translations of much wider movements in consciousness, spanning more than the physical dimension in which they manifest.
      Many of the legends that humanity is aware of are very similar accounts, throughout your globe. And they are also projected in other dimensional areas vibrationally close to your manifestations.

      You are currently fiddling with the legends of your ends of times, and that is the reason why at the same time, you are starting to create new legends. Legends of new beginnings.
      In actuality, this is done oftentimes; each time a perceptual limit is crossed and seen beyond. The only difference here would be the unprecedented span of the process which is occurring now. The point where you are standing, prodding into the interactive frontier you have come across is not a single mere frontier, but a converging point of many of tinier, shorter ones. This also creates a singularity which makes the frontier respond with a sort of inertia. In fact, it is like a wide net of fine threads, which possess altogether a high absorbing potential for small energy bumps. Nonetheless, it will give way to a vastly expanded perception, as soon as the collective energy is focused upon, and steadily moving into the direction of pushing that protective envelop.

      That process never ends, and during that process, new legends are being remembered. For the lands beyond the frontiers exists when you are aware of it, which in retrospect also means, it is created, or inserted as you are prodding the frontier.
      In fact, you are, as you stand before that specific nexus point, being creating new legends, in that you are evaluating the potentials that you see fluctuating as a shadow world through the layer of a soap bubble, and have them blend with legends that you know of.
      Your very lives become the legends of these potential worlds, and thus is the importance of your being at that locus of transition. You indeed come at that point, as much for making it possible but more so, to experience the transition and alteration of the legendary landscape. You are the bridges between a future which you are creating as you remember it, and a past which contains the clues that will be seeds for your new discoveries.
      And that is a most rewarding travel, as you will come to see…

      #620
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        The Story Vincentius told to Arona

        I was seven when my father died. He leapt into a swollen river to help a neighbor who was drowning. He saved the neighbor but could not save himself. Everyone called him a hero but my mother called him a stupid fool. She was filled with sadness for her loss, and anger that he would leave her in such a way. I remember she got a pair of big scissors from the sewing box and cut off her long hair. For weeks after that I would see her move her hand to brush her long hair away and suddenly realise it was no longer there and I would see her go still. Then her body would slump and she would stand there looking lost and not knowing what to do. One day her heart just stopped beating. They said she died of grief but I think it was that life had become an empty hole that just got deeper and darker. I don’t think that is the same as grief, but maybe it is. My three older sisters and I cried and cried when my father died, but I never once saw her cry.

        When my mother died we had to cry in secret, because my Grandmother Naja moved in to take care of us. She didn’t believe in crying. There were many things she didn’t believe in. Grandmother Naja ate like a bird, looked like a piece of old leather and moved like a skittery rabbit.

        Vincentius she would say to me, peering at me shortsightedly, you need to get bigger. Your parents are dead and you are now the man of the house. Every day she would poke me in the ribs and say Vincentius, you need to get bigger”. Every time she poked me I remembered all over again that I was not good enough and that my parents were dead.

        One day she sent Taffy, the second oldest sister out to the garden to get a cabbage. But there were no cabbages left the garden. Well! said Grandmother Naja, I can’t cook cabbage broth without any cabbage. So she gave Taffy a coin and sent my sisters into the Village to buy a cabbage from the market.

        I begged to go too.

        You are too small and you are too slow! said my sisters

        Eventually though they gave in to my pleading.

        I have often wondered if I knew the events that day would bring, if I would have begged so hard to go, mused Vincentius

        to be continued …

        #619

        Home, at last… Bernie Eleonara Mynd, Viscountess of Shropshire sighed, dropping her hairy salmon coloured hermine fur coat to the butler.
        Now, leave me alone Vigor, I don’t want to be disturbed.
        Madam, Vigor bowed deferentially

        A smoking teapot of fine herb tea was prepared on the glass coffee table just near a black silk pouch. With a greedy look on her face, she untied voraciously the pouch to reveal the crystal skull she had just acquired.
        After a few seconds of beholding the priceless possession, she lifted the teapot lid with a stiff face which eventually smiled blissfully at the smell of the fine Earl Fuchsia crop which was infusing.

        Good Lord, that trip was exhausting!… she growled in a very deep voiced that suddenly sounded more male than before.
        Didn’t know I had to go as far as Spain to get that darn skull!

        Bernie suddenly ripped her fine chignon from her head, revealing a bald head with a few short black hair on the top. She spitted her false teeth, peeled off some wrinkled patches of latex skin, smeared the mascara around her globular eyes and scratched her crotch…

        A ruffled sound and a “mmm mmm” suddenly caught her attention off the itchy body parts.

        She went to the cupboard, drew a key dangling from a necklace deeply buried inside her ample bosom, then stopped for a moment, and muttered a “bugger” before unbuttoning her tight blouse and removing the corset that was constraining her breath.
        Smiling wickedly, she proceeded to open the cupboard, but recoiled at a pale tied and muzzled figure who looked much similar to whoever she was impersonating.

        Oh, Lordy, what a stench! There’s no point in making such a fuss Viscountess, this will soon be over… I just needed a few things, and will soon be off, tonight to be precise…

        The pale figure whined with pleading eyes.

        Oh, just don’t make these eyes at me…

        Bugger! I can’t bother with her now, she said to herself, closing the cupboard’s door oblivious to the plaintiff whines. Now, got to move on real quick, before they realize something was wrong with the transaction.

        :fleuron:

        Juan had insisted that they all spent Christmas together before Paqui and Joselito went for their trip. He felt that there was more to this trip that he could grasp, and wanted to share these precious moments now, not wanting to live on regrets.
        Now, the new year was here, and he was alone. At least, he’d been more than glad to see Claudio move out. It had all been a lot easier than he’d thought at first. Obviously, when Paquita had said to that maggot that she was going to accompany Joselito to his trip on the whachaname-Kikkoo Island, Claudio had been outraged, probably thinking a good playing victim act would soon make things right for him.
        But he’d been wrong altogether. It was not about love for him or the other. It was all about freedom and being what she wanted. And emotional blackmail very quickly proved besides the point.
        His father had been proud at Paquita. Her decision obviously was made, and it had been the first time he had seen the frail girl unwavering at the arguments.

        The situation had soon proved unbearable for Claudio, who had no longer any reason for hanging around Juan and Paqui’s house, and one day he’d moved out, rather discreetly, not to be heard again. Somehow, Juan was aware of the town’s gossips, that he had acquired some unexpected sum of money, not sure if all very legally, but the thing was that he had decided to take his chances by going some said to Nicaragua, others to Brazil or even to the US…
        But who really cared?

        :fleuron:

        On his plane for Valparaiso, Claudio was looking at the letter he’d found in the family trunk. It was a brief correspondence between his grand-father and a certain Cillian Mc Gaughran, and it was linked to the skull he had sold such a handsome price. Perhaps he could get more information about them, if the recluse old man was still alive, that is…

        #600

        A feeling of disappointment.
        A feeling of hatred… Sam didn’t really know where it was coming from, but he was feeling it. It was a pooling of energies, not necessarily linked to anyone in particular. Like holding to old habits and old clothes though they needed to be changed.

        Sam decided to create something he hadn’t for quite some time. Some fever and reconfiguration of his digestive process.

        For him, it was a way of expression through his body. It was not a dysfunction as it was expressing freely the energy. Nothing was to be feared or opposed.
        He focused deeply on himself and began to feel this low vibrating sound in his belly. And his body began its shifting.

        :fleuron:

        Lucio was swimming with ease in the marble pool of the villa. His brother was speaking with the trees again and he had no interest in that himself. The water upon his body was offering enough interactions at that moment. In order to swim swiftly this morning he had reshaped his body to a slender and tall body. His short hair was moss green today and quite fitting in the sky blue water. A lemur was swimming alongside with him like it was challenging him in some way.
        He felt his brother’s energy field expand and ripple through the water. A big watery splash was the indication he had joined Lucio in this aquatic amusement.

        Though they were identical twins, they also had the ability to alter their physical shape slightly. Mostly their hair and size, and also their faces. Today they were identical again, except for their size as Lucio had increased it, and their hair. Adrian was bald today, his perfectly round skull was appearing almost shiny in the afternoon sun. He winked at his brother with a big grin and dived under the wavy surface.

        #599

        I wonder how delightful it may feel to become one with that butterfly, mused Franiel, his attention diverted from the job at hand as he followed the dance of a delicate white butterfly. He closed his eyes for a moment and merged with the creature, how free ! He sighed, trying somewhat reluctantly to pull himself back. Franiel had been sat there for quite some time now, supposedly engaged in the task of writing a short poem of 3 stanzas for Hrih, the Old One.

        Of course there was no pressure. Yet in his desire to please, Franiel felt it as such. In his dreams of the previous night Hrih had visited him. He had offered Franiel a golden crown, a silver goblet filled with sweet nectar, and a jewelled sword. Choose! commanded Hrih. Franiel had chosen the goblet and drank thirstily from it, and yet he had felt that Hrih was not pleased with his choice, and upon wakening Franiel had felt a strange uneasiness.

        Franiel had not been trained in the way of the pen, and he knew his words would be clumsy. He had been raised in a poor home, where words were not considered to be of much value other than to instruct him in his tasks, or berate him when those tasks were not completed. Being a dreamy child, this had often been the case.

        He wished he could harness the power of words and use them to soothe and caress, to create beauty even, he thought, gently running his finger over the plain wooden table where he was seated.

        Well for now he would not worry what form his words should take, for it was enough of a task even to know what his highest truth might be!

        My highest truth .. my highest truth, … how many times now had he said these words, hoping perhaps if he repeated them enough the gods might take pity on his for his ignorance and provide an answer. How could he possibly know his highest truth? The very concept of such a thing perplexed him.

        Day was turning into night before Franiel finally laid down his pen. In the end his words were simple. He sighed, saddened by the thought that they would surely be a disappointment. The best I can hope for is that the Old One will see these words as nothing more than a doorway to my soul. Hrih was wise, Franiel knew this, and trusted the decision of the Old One.

        It was in the hands of the gods, for surely if I can’t trust this at least, all my fine talk and learning is for nothing.

        I am the driftwood
        the wave carried me
        I was buried in sand

        I am the flower
        the butterfly touched me
        I fell in love

        I am the raindrop
        the cloud released me
        I became the ocean

        #569

        It had not been easy to convince his parents. His mother especially…
        As a matter of fact, he had failed to convince them at all, and Tomkin had to decide by himself whether he wanted to follow Badul and his crew in his quest for unknown mysteries.

        Tomkin had left a short written message for the Sharples, to tell them that they needn’t worry, and all would be fine.

        Badul had decided to split his crew in two, having Austor in charge of the boats while he would go with a handful of trusted men by land.
        Apparently, the young boy was aware of one portal which was close to their current location. This one was not part of the main network and was operating unknowingly to the officials. Its size was small, and travels were regulated by a local governor who used it for his clandestine business.
        It was located deeper inside the lands of Golfindely, and the mountainous area of highlands planted with luxuriant trees made its access difficult.

        Despite the boy’s initial reluctance at leading them to this place, Badul was determined to go, and very quickly Tomkin was excited at the opportunity to finally travel as he always had wanted to. It wouldn’t be by sea for now, but as Captain Bone said, every journey starts with one step.

        #518

        Anyway Arona, said Sanso, after a short silence while they watched the disco dancers. I have decided to change my name!

        Oh great!

        Yes, I have always liked the name “Floyd”. What do you think? Got a nice ring to it eh? Do you think it suits me?

        :fleuron:

        Well it appears it is a private party I think Arona. Still, most entertaining, eh what!

        and Floyd started laughing, and snorting … and Arona could not help but laugh too … although she was laughing more at the snorting than the dancers.

        #542

        The old abbot Hrih, was coming back from the gardens of the Monastery, the soil dampened and muddied by the heavy rains of the season sticking to the sole of his sandals. Hrih Chokyam loved to be reacquainted with the rawness of nature, and the fluidity that the rain provided to the ground by transforming it into malleable mud.

        He was bringing back vegetables for the dinner’s soup, and was amazed at the fact that even though he had felt so close to the earth, barefooted in his sandals, he had not even a drop of mud on him.

        He had delayed his choice for much too long already, and the not so subtle pressing of his main confident Aum Geong to officially elect his successor was making him unquiet. He was deeply trustful of Aum Geog, and of his sincerity as a Holder of the clear Light that was being tapped into, channeled and refined by the Monastery’s spiritual endeavours.
        But Hrih was feeling that Aum Geong’s views were slightly too narrow for the heavy task he was wanting him to carry on.
        He was too good at creating structures and rules, and Hrih felt that even if all done in good intent, it would be taking the risk of chocking the great outburst of powerful energy that was lying at the very foundations of the Monastery.

        The young man that he had noticed a few hexades1 ago, though very discreet seemed bright and very dedicated to his task. He had been greeted by all, and had soon felt at home. Franiel, as he was named, was under the tutelage of Jog Lam, a very wise (albeit young) monk that Hrih had adopted some years ago as the parents had been abandoning him a young baby at the eternally opened doors of the Monastery.

        Hrih had made a decision. He would not play favourites. Seeing the blank black Meditation Wall, an idea crossed his mind. He would announce at the dinner that the monks willing to do it could do a short poem of 3 stanzas where they would express their highest truth on the Meditation Wall…

        :fleuron:

        1 On that part of the Duane (the planet where Mount Elok’ram is), time is divided in groups of six days or hexades, each being attributed to one of the Elder Gods: Ghört (Airs) Nærvel (Waters) Agnima (Flames) Selvaniel (Woods) Margilonia (Earths) and Lejüs (Forgotten). The names or the days are Ghordië, Narduë, Agduë, Seldië, Marduë, Shandië.

        Name Element Quality Hexade
        Ghört Airs Male Ghordië
        Nærvel Waters Female Narduë
        Agnima Flames Female Agduë
        Selvaniel Woods Male Seldië
        Margilonia Earths Female Marduë
        (Shaint) Lejüs Forgotten Male Shandië
        #529
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Sawyer reached for his boots, his eyes still blind with sleep. He didn’t know how much longer he could cope with all this. Years ago, when he’d joined the Weather Incident Rescue Team, or WIRT, he’d imagined a relatively easy life, long spells of inactivity in which to play poker with his team-mates, and an occasional exciting incident. Little did he realize that he would be working on average a 100 hour week…and even then, the team was chronically short-staffed.

          #500
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            On hearing the scream Dr Bronklehampton jumped up from what he was doing and rushed towards the laboratory where the Mummy, or Sasha Goldenwort, was having her fifth session under the laser. The only other person with any medical training of note on the island was Nurse Bellamy, who currently was down on the beach climbing coconut palms. A ridiculous pastime in Dr Bronklehampton’s opinion, however a young native boy had taught Nurse Bellamy something called the frog technique for climbing palm trees, and she now seemed to derive great pleasure from skimming up and down and bringing him back coconuts. The problem was, he reflected as he puffed down the corridor, that they had far too much time on this island with not enough to keep them occupied for some months now.

            A smell of burning greeted Dr Bronklehampton as he rushed into the laboratory. Sasha was lying outstretched on the floor.

            Dr Bronklehampton, medical expert that he was, knew at once something must have gone horribly wrong. He rang the alarm located on the wall by the door in the hope it would raise Nurse Bellamy, and rushed to Sasha’s side.

            Sasha was dead.

            He could see this immediately. Her skin, which just a short time ago was a beautiful and youthful smooth peachy colour, was now covered in purple weals.

            He sat silently for a moment thinking, then calmly and deliberately walked to the laboratory door and locked it.

            :fleuron:

            Nurse Bellamy was indeed halfway up a particularly tall palm tree when the alarm sounded. Oh bugger, she swore. By the time she arrived back at the treatment center, Dr Bronklehampton was reclining in his office. So sorry, he said with an apologetic smile, false alarm. Hope you weren’t inconvenienced. Anyway, good thing you are here, I believe two of the new guests have arrived, you might like to go and meet them.

            Oh, he said casually , as though an afterthought, Sascha decided to leave early, while the hydroplane was here. She said to say goodbye to you. Yes, she is absolutely delighted with the results of her treatment.

            #481

            Veranassessee carried the box carefully, periodically checking to make sure it was securely fastened. He was sure Dr Bronkelhampton would be pleased with the initiative he’d shown. Buying 100 breeding pairs of Blue Bonnet Spiders was a stroke of genius, he thought. They were known to eat mosquitos, and Veranassessee (or V’ass for short) was confident that he’d made a wise decision.

            #424

            — The legend of Mævel — (Part VII)

            Today was the Day of the Forgotten. Mævel had slept well, nestled into the soft and warm depth of her dreams, her head resting on the short blue fur of the fox.
            In sharp contrast with the lovely night, she awoke strangely irritated. Even the birds songs were like noise to her ears, and every sound of the forest she heard with acute intensity and a sense of being submerged by many sensory inputs.
            Hopefully, the blue fox voice was still very comforting, and she started to wonder how they could come across a Forgotten One in need.

            — I think I know where we can find some Forgotten One in need.
            — Where? asked Mævel

            The fox paused, then answered her question:
            — Near your human parents’ home.

            Mævel was surprised. She trusted the fox, and never had really questioned him, because more than that she trusted her own feelings, but now her feelings were telling her that there was something the fox had not told her. Or had told her partially. She was silent, pondering the unseen implications.

            — Mæ, I’ll try my best to answer your questions, but remember I cannot tell you everything. I can help you remember some things, but there are things that my curse does not allow me to reveal. You have to find them by your own, in order to free us…
            — Free us? I thought you were the one Cursed?…
            — Yes I am, and…
            — How do you know my parent’s home? How much do you know about me?
            — I know you since you are a baby actually. And even before…
            — Before? I don’t understand a thing… I feel there are some unseen links, that I cannot decipher, yet they are so close to…
            — You’re right, there are links, links that are important, and that I cannot reveal.
            — Why can’t you reveal them?
            — Let’s go to your human parent’s home…
            — Why do you always say my human parents?

            The fox blew in front of him, creating a wobbling sound into the air in the form of a ring large enough for them to go through it. And he hopped inside, disappearing in mid-air.

            Mævel was perplexed, but did not hesitate. She hopped too into the watery ring in front of her and found herself falling into a void, to reemerge on a bed of dry leaves in front of her parent’s home. Blohmrik the blue fox was seated in front of her, observing a shadowy form at a distance in front of them.

            — Is that the Forgotten One we will help?
            — Yes.
            — Why do you need me? You could help her, couldn’t you?
            — She wouldn’t see me, Forgotten Ones are usually obsessed by a few people, those who they feel can remember them, and don’t usually see other people. Their perception is quite different than ours.
            — Hang on a minute… Why do you think she will see me?

            Mævel looked into the eyes of the fox, and she knew.

            — We are linked.

            It was more an affirmation than a question.
            Mævel wondered who that shadowy figure was. When she focused on her, the form was getting more solid, and she could catch glimpses of how she looked like. And she was surprised. She was about her age, with long blond hair as hers.
            Mævel’s voice was broken:
            — My parents had told me I was about to die when I was a baby, then by a sort of miracle, I became healthy… Was that true?… I mean… Was that a gentle way of telling me that I had a twin who died or…
            — No, Mæ. She is not you. She is not linked to you by blood. You can talk to her, she will listen to you.

            So Mævel went to see the shadowy figure. She had stopped wandering and trying to find an opening around the house, for there were none for spirits: all openings were locked by stripes of red cloth hung onto the doors and windows.
            Mævel felt the pain of the Forgotten One as she approached her.

            — Who are you? she suddenly asked Mævel, raising her head at her approach.
            — I am Mævel.
            Mævel… It means marvel of Maÿ… I was born in Maÿ…
            — What are you doing here?
            — This is my parents’ home.
            — How is that possible?
            — Twenty one year ago, I was taken away from them, given to Shaint Lejüs in place of a fairy princess. But Shaint Lejüs was no fool, he had sent his apprentice to spy on the fairy king.
            — Blohmrik?!
            — Yes, Blohmrik… But Blohmrik disobeyed the Elder God, and when he saw the exchange that was about to happen, he let it happen. He wanted to protect the fairy princess from his master. Because Shaint Lejüs wanted the princess as a bride. Ahahaha, how disappointed Lejüs was when he saw that I could not perform the most basic magic spells. I was good at nothing, so he let me go wandering into his Realm. He’d just thought the half-fairy princess had inherited no magic from her father.
            — How do you know all that?

            — I told her, the blue fox said. I was hoping to bring her relief. But she started to look for her parents, and Lejüs discovered the truth… Because she was not looking for a fairy king. She was heading here, year after year.
            — That’s the reason of your curse, is it?
            — Yes. She can’t see me because I was Forgotten too, in that form of a blue fox. But as Forgotten Ones don’t forget, I didn’t forget. I couldn’t tell her, because she couldn’t see me.
            — So, I am that fairy princess you are talking about… that strange idea was starting to dawn on Mævel.
            — Yes. When Lejüs discovered who you were, he wasn’t interested in you any longer, because he thought your magical potential had been irremediably damaged by all those years spent in human company.

            — Who are you talking to? the shadowy figure asked, bemused.
            — Blohmrik, he is here. But it’s untrue, Mævel said, there is magic in me.
            — Yes there is, answered the blue fox, and you can undo what has been done with it.

            Mævel remembered the useless key she had manifested when she had tried to go out of her human parents’ house. She had not even looked at it closely.

            — You can manifest it again Mæ, said the fox. It is with you. You are its lock.

            And no sooner had Mævel thought of the big rusted key, than it appeared in her hand again. But this time the rust on it was crackled, and it started to disintegrate, and a brilliant shiny metal started to show beneath it.

            Scratching what was left of the rust, Mævel started to look at the beautiful key, it was shaped as a musical note, and it had some word written on it, in an ancient language she didn’t know how to read. But she knew the sound when she ran her finger on the surface of the word.

            « Araoni »

            That was her. She was remembering, and everything started to change.

            :fleuron2:

            The wedding of the God Blohmrik, son of Mirÿnda, Goddess of Mirth and of Bälias, God of the Sparkles with Araoni, daughter of the Fairy Queen Theÿa and the Fairy King Aldurion was pronounced on a bright day of Maÿ, in a beautiful orchard in the presence of Araoni’s human parents and sisters and brothers.

            Even Lejüs had been invited, even though he would have preferred to be Forgotten…

            :fleuron:

            And so my story ends… said Captain Bone to Tomkin.

            — And was the shadow remembered by her true parents? had asked Tomkin.
            — Oh, yes she was… Of course. She just didn’t want to steal the limelight from Mævel, you see. Her parents were happy of course to find back their true daughter.
            — You didn’t tell me the name of the true daughter, did you?
            — No, I didn’t, said Captain Bone with a wink.

            #1846
            Jib
            Participant

              The legend of The Weaving Princess

              Once upon a time, in the Warring Kingdom of Landgurdy, lived the Yellow Princess Atiara. She was living with her father, the Yellow King of Landgurdy in the Subtle Palace of Aram Ardun, the capital.

              The day of Her 20 th birthday was a very special day. As for any normal citizen of the Warring Kindgom, it was the day She fully became an adult. And furthermore, it was the day of Her wedding with the man to whom she was betrothed the day of her 12 th birthday, Prince Shomar At Gurna from the War Clan Gurna Drom.

              The Yellow King had organized a sumptuous banquet in the Palace, and although the people of Landgurdy was not invited in the Palace, many banquets had been set all around the country. Only the War Clanners of Landgurdy were to be admitted in Her presence in this most special day.

              At the very moment of the blessing by the Priest of Tatasi, the slaughter had already been perpetrated. The treacherous War Clanner Namad Gurdin had made an agreement with the Warring Kingdom of Cromash Tur. One of them had been replaced by the Assassin Varad Romash Karad Din, Master of this infamous Guild. Cromash Tur had sworn that very day would be the end of the Landgurdy. And it was. Many had tried to unfold the mystery of the sudden death of all the War Clanners and the Nobles present at that moment. The fact is that they were all found dead by the servants who were intrigued by the silence following the blessing… No wound, no trace of poison. The death of all these people remains a mystery.

              Though, two were missing. The Assassin, and the Yellow Princess.

              Cromash Tur’s army invaded the Landgurdy shortly after that… No resistance encountered, no more War Clanners to assure the safety of the land.

              Though Cromash Tur’s Warlord always denied having captured the Yellow Princess, she was supposed held captive in an unknown shadowy place of the Marshes of Doom.

              The Death Guards were keeping an eye on her, and every cloth, every dish, every book that was given to her was meticulously checked. Nothing was to bear the slightest trace of yellow. According to the legend, her family was famous with their use of this magic color, one of their most powerful talent was the control of the weather pattern, and the King of Cromash Tur feared strongly she would use her power to destroy his Kingdom if She could see a yellow dot.

              The Marshes of Doom were so grey and shadowy, she could never see any trace of yellow there.

              (to be continued)

              #371

              Dublin, November 2057

              Hallowe’en had always been associated with fond memories with Sean. After all, back in 2033, it was the inauguration date of the first T.R.A.P. entertainment park, where he and Becky had been falling madly in love with each other.

              There had been lots of things for Sean to put aside, especially considering how quick it all had been for them, especially considering the death of his wife, and this too short period of grieving by all standards, but well, bugger off the others.
              He had not wanted to give any explanation, and Becky and him were sure of what they did.
              And all had changed that year, even Becky had suddenly wished for lots of children. And they’ve had got children…

              2035, the triplets: Oliver, Léan and Illana
              2037 the quintuplets: Flora, Finn, Frank, Fanny and Fergie
              and finally, in 2038, quadruplets: Vivian, Eve, Kevin and Mavie

              He was thinking of his father, and how they had almost ceased to communicate. The children now, were almost all grown-ups and this would be the first Christmas they would have together with Becky without the children. Sean was feeling a bit nostalgic.
              Perhaps he should phone his father, the upright Lord Hilarion Wrick

              #364
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Sanso was surprised at how attached he’d gotten in such a very short time to the poor wee scrap, shunted from pillar to post already and still barely a week old. He made up his mind to take the baby back, perhaps when it was a bit older.

                #321

                — Daddy, daddy! I want to come with you!

                Young Peregrine had been running after his father at the moment when he had put the letter in his pocket ready to go off the streets.

                — Oh, really? Sean Doran Wrick was weighing the possibilities.

                Peregrine was still in fluffy rabbit slippers and pajamas, but he had a very determined look on his young face.

                — Then perhaps we should ask Guinevere to come with us too?
                — OK, I go ask her!

                And off was Peregrine, running down the hall of the large Dublin apartment to his sister’s room.

                Sean was thoughtful… Well, Edmund had said that the private jet would be ready in an hour, so that was leaving him some time to have a nice beer at the pub before departing to New York to see the Traveling Reality Amusement Park, or T.R.A.P. for short, as the imaginative publicists of his father’s company had decided to brand the new revolutionary concept.

                Sean had been supervising the very first prototype before he had met Margaret, and then had got more interested in his “real” family life than in amusement travels in fairy lands… But nonetheless his father had trusted his flair, and had kept him informed of the developments of the project.
                Now, for the premiere of the T.R.A.P., he’d got some VIP invitations, but grieved with Margaret’s death, he had not wanted to go there at all. That is, until Becky had spoken about it…

                Peregrine came back with a pout on his face.
                — She’s not sure if she wants to come, he said…
                — Oh well. Then, let me have my beer, and I come back in a few minutes to see if you and your sister are ready. I’ll pick up whomever is ready and packed up.
                — Yipeeee! Peregrine’s eyes were gleaming with joy.

                #295

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

                Becky was enjoying preparing the itinerary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                #83
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  Where the Janitor may assist you in navigating into the things available in your reality.
                  (a help-thread in short)

                  Note: the Janitor declines any responsibility for any loss or any Patel “pop-in” that may mess up with your reality.

                  Textile format help
                  or here
                  to test your formatting

                  #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.

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