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  • #458

    Yo looks guilty, our Mavis, said Fred. Whatchoo ‘iding?

    Nuffink, Fred. I’m not ‘iding nuffink. Her lip trembled but she bravely squared her shoulders, looked Fred in the eye and said: I’m going on ‘oliday.

    ‘oliday? Another one? You went to Minehead last year with yer sister, whatchoo want another ‘oliday for?

    I want to go to Tikfijikoo.

    Fred looked at Mavis as if she’d taken leave of her senses. Tiki fuckin WHO? Don’t be so bloody daft, woman!

    #446
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      She kept rocking, faster now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      I don’t know, she whispered.

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

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

      :fleuron:

      Lucille returned with the lemonade.

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

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

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

      #387
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Of course, as soon as they had stepped into the powerful magnetic field generated inside the T.R.A.P., the reality around them was transphormed as if they all had been into a huge deFørmiñG mirror, that they could shape with their strangest thoughts.

        Obviously, they had all started to hallucinate some funny stuff…

        It was happening so quick, Sam noticed. Sean’s breath was smelling of whiskey, and Sam felt Sean had forgotten something on his way to New York. He felt compelled to ask him if there was something on his mind…
        — Peregrine!
        — Who’s that?
        — Oh, he will be so disappointed… Sean started to sob. I’m such a bad father!

        Sean couldn’t find a composure. Hopefully, Becky wrapped her sensual arm around his shoulders, and hugged him tenderly.

        — Hey, look, she said, the children are more adept at these games than we are,… if we want, we can have him project here from his bedroom and share the fun with us. What do you reckon?

        And she started to yell:

        — Peeeeerrrry ! Peerrrry !

        #370

        — The legend of Mævel — (Part III)

        When the blue fox had disappeared, deep into the woods, Mævel was left wondering if all of that had only been a dream. Perhaps it was just a dream, and something that would make her parents raise their shoulders in dismay.
        Especially since she had lost their gift carelessly they would say, the little pearl white ribbon…

        She picked up the clothes that were left hanging to dry up in the wind, and came back to the little house.

        Of course, her father Jorg noticed that she was not wearing the ribbon, but he was not much of a question asker, and things were or were not, and analyzing them was unnecessary for him. But of course, Ilga noticed it too, and she felt sad for poor Jorg who had endured so many sacrifices to buy the little ribbon that Mævel was no longer wearing. She wanted an explanation! Was it no longer to Mævel’s tastes, had Mævel lost it?

        So Mævel, who could not lie to anybody, told them her encounter with Blohmrik, the cursed god in the woods, in the shape of a wounded blue fox… and at each of her words, was seeing their faces more and more disconcerted.
        Their poor girl, who was already so different, had completely lost it,… ribbon and all that was left of common sense in her.

        So they locked her up in the bedroom, that she was now occupying alone, as all of her brothers and sisters had left. Just to save her from herself, and see if that would help her gain some more solid sense of reality.

        Mævel understood her parents, but she was deeply contrite that they could not understand what she had lived. Mævel was still doubting the reality of her meeting the blue fox, so she asked for some sign from the Gods before going to sleep, to see clearly.

        That night, Mævel dreamt of a dark-haired young man with a white diadem1 around his head, dressed in a cerulean blue tunic and wearing a sword. He was enshrouded in a warm light and as she took the hand he was extending, they were carried away by a springing scented wind into a meadow of multicoloured flowers, some of which she had not even known could exist. She had felt at home.
        When she woke up, in the middle of the night, Mævel was transfixed by the beautiful soothing dream. She could not remember much more, but he had told her something. That there was deep magic in her, and it would help her find her true home, but that she would have to gain back her true name from the Elder God who had took it from her.

        She quickly took her decision. She knew she had to search for the blue fox in the forest. But how could she escape the locked bedroom? She was starting to feel desperate again, but she remembered that there was some magic in her, and how she had felt it deeply true in her dream.
        As she was focusing on the warm expanding feeling of her dream, an old rusty key materialized in her hand.

        1 diadem: [ ˈdī-ə-ˌdem (dəm) ] from Greek diadēma, from diadein to bind around; akin to Sanskrit dāman rope — was originally a white ribbon, ending in a knot and two strips that were placed often on the shoulders, that surrounded the head of the king to denote his authority.

        #216
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Dory stretched and yawned, and took in her surroundings. The terrain was dry and desert-like, with strange tall rock formations with sheer sides, and hard dusty ground. A strong dry and hot wind whipped her shawl around her shoulders and face. Momentarily blinded, she turned her back to the wind to disentangle her shawl. She finally surfaced from the flapping tangle of cloth just in time to see the van disappearing in a cloud of dust.

          PPFFT! I’m on an expedition all on my own. Dory was momentarily speechless.

          #163

          Hells Bells muttered Arona to herself , this had better not be some sort of a test that dragon is putting me through

          As she stepped forward into the darkness of the chosen path, she had a sudden sense she was walking off the edge of a cliff.

          Arona had been practising quietness for a long time. The journey had been lonely at times and offered her many opportunities to practise her skills. There were so many parts of her wanting to have a say, discuss, analyse her every move, so that she would become paralysed and unable to move at all. In desperation almost she had learned to still the voices and find that part of herself she most believed herself to be. The part which believed in the existence of magic.

          Well done, and shall you fly?

          Arona hesitated. It was that voice again. She was not sure if this new voice came from her own thoughts, but she felt not.

          Great, she thought, perfect time to finally lose it. Stuck in a dark cave with a troublesome dragon.

          Shrugging her shoulders she went still inside and moved her body forward.

          Leormn (with two little dots above the “o”) felt deeply humbled when he saw the extraordinary bravery of Arona.

          It was hard for the proud dragon to consider, but he did wonder if sometimes he went too far with his joking. After all for him the cave was a playground, clay he could mould at will, or at a whim. Perhaps one could even call it a work of art, he thought proudly.

          But he did realise that for the girl, who was newer to the ways of magic (although showed the most tremendous potential he grudgingly had to admit), he realised it represented something far deeper, a dual potential, the hope of light, but also the possibility of the deepest darkness.

          For a moment he even considered revealing his whereabouts.

          She is fine , Malvina answered his thoughts, she loves the challenge. It is what drew her here.

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