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  • #1024
    Jib
    Participant

      Dory was digging in her garden. Today was hot and sunny, but she was an archeologist, she could handle it!
      She had a dream last night about a little bird talking to her and telling her there was something precious buried in her garden… well it was something like that, she couldn’t really remember… maybe it was in another dream… did she watch a series last night? The boys were still sleeping soundly, so she’d ask later maybe.

      The ground of the garden was tough! no wonder she never dug it before, or even did any gardening.
      Crap! She was wondering where the treasure could be, her garden was big, and she had begun under a tree, but maybe it wasn’t there… it seemed to her the perfect location though… it was like an X showing the place. It had always seemed a bit crooked to her anyway. She could get rid of it shortly with a truck… She’ll ask the boys later for that… maybe near the portal stones?
      She left here digging under the crooked tree and started removing the stones of what she used to call the portal.

      #1023
      1da
      Participant

        4:21:44 PM 8-8-08 1da Geolocation Time.

        sometimes the flow climbs a mountain.

        pause. step. quick step. pause again. step. upstream another step. the stones solid, smooth, settled beneath my feet with the timeless passing of water. the path of gravity. the rising of a mountain. a rapid, considered, going on pace. sand between the stones. the moments of time. light on the rippling waters flickering. the air transparent, timeless, crisp, cool.

        knowing i’ve passed this way before, i pass again for the first time.

        it’s good to be back. returning. beginning.

        knowing my destination. the cave far above beneath the ancient pine. the boulder near the rough and gnarled trunk, slick and smooth. so hard the sense is of softness gliding with my fingers over the iridescent surface. soft to sit upon, to watch the valley far below extending forever into the distance. soft to recline upon, arcing my back. the warmth of the day in the stone, lingering far into the night to heat my bones. …knowing my destination, i take the next step into all that is new.

        sitting near the water. deep transparent pools of green/blue. the setting red sun. a shelter beneath driftwood high on the bank. a myrtle tree draping a blanket of scent over me, opening my soul. with each breath. i watch the light fading into the words echoing through my skull… life is hard… the song…

        Life is hard
        Anyway you cut it
        Life is sweet,
        Like a berry from a tree
        Life is temptation, baby,
        Every single day
        Life is hard

        Life is funny,
        I dont mean ha-ha
        It‘s not always sunny,
        When it needs to be
        Life is frightening,
        Nothing lasts forever
        Life is hard

        My time
        Is next to nothing
        My time
        Falls on you, yeah
        Everything
        Is in motion
        Life is hard

        Life is precious,
        No matter how you see it
        Life is crazy,
        Like yellow fishes in the street
        Life is lonely
        When you‘re not with me
        Life is hard

        Gentlemen
        Is that you story?
        Hanging religion
        From a tree, yeah
        My time
        Is next to nothing
        Life is hard

        My time
        Is next to nothing
        My time
        Falls on you, yeah
        Everything
        Is in motion
        Life is hard

        My time
        Falls on you, yeah
        Life is hard
        Life is hard

        – J. Mellencamp – while on the planet earth.

        ok. life is also beautiful. – 1da

        it’s a cruel crazy beautiful world – J. Clegg – also while on the planet earth.

        stars flickering in the fading twilight. the silence of a light breeze as pine boughs begin to whisper. the ache of tall trees swaying in the night with a moan like countless masts on the tall ships of a planet. blink. and i sleep.

        #980
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Tina, Tina? Does the tally non-rule on posts apply to the Reality play too? Becky asked, waking Tina in the middle of the night with some anxiety lingering in her voice.

          Oh I see, your babies won’t really let you sleep poor Becky Pooh Tina answered with commiseration.

          #966
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Sure aliens… Why not aliens? Becky said with a funny maniac laughter that sent chills through Tina’s back.
            After all, we’ve been talking to dead people for so long, we’ve forgotten all about alien lives… I want to believe!

            Well, Tina shrugged in complete abandon, I suppose that would not be your last eccentricity after all… But now that Al starts to believe such utter nonsense is beyond my understanding. I think I need to get more sleep too.
            See you tomorrow, and have fun with your rugrats darling pooh… she said with a sugary smile while closing the videoconf window.

            Phew… Becky sighed, with an anxious side glance at the silent cradles that may not stay silent much longer.

            The rugrats have names you know Tina, she said, more to herself than to the benefit of anyone else.
            And hell if I remember what they are now…

            #962
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              I’m worried about Al, Tina, said Becky. He’s really acting strange lately, have you noticed?

              Noticed! Of course I’ve bloody noticed! exclaimed Tina.

              Aw, Tina! Becky gave Tina a warm hug.

              I don’t think he’s getting enough sleep, Becky, Tina continued. Like for example, you know what you were writing in the Reality Play about Becky and the clones? Well, he thinks it’s real! He thinks the babies are clones. He even thinks YOU’RE a clone, Becky!

              Oh surely not, Tina! Ahahahah! Becky couldn’t help laughing.

              It’s no laughing matter, Backy, said Tina reproachfully, but Becky’s laughter was infectious and Tina started to smile. Oh stop making me laugh! I’m worried!

              A gurgling sound erupted from one of the baby Moses baskets. Those babies have such a sense of humour for such tiny things! said Tina, smiling down at the sunny smiling little faces.

              Haha yes, when they’re not screaming with rage, laughed Becky.

              Tina frowned. I wonder what Al sees when he looks at them?

              What do you mean, Tina?

              Well, didn’t you read Al’s last entry in the Play? Don’t ask me for a link, Becks, look it up yourself!

              Becky rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. You mean about them being emotionless?

              He’s reconfiguring their energy to fit his delusions, Becky. He’s becoming so immersed in the Play that he’s believing it’s real . It’s all a bit worrying, because he’ll be going on about dragons and mermaids in the apartment next, or talking chairs or something. I don’t know how to handle it.

              Hey, I have an idea! Becky said. How about that doctor Muir?

              #960

              New Venice, July, 1 st 2035

              The night was hot in New Venice at this time of the year. The weather patterns had been steadily shifting for many years, and the climate was now sub-tropical in the inundated Big Apple, as more and more people resented the usual coldness of winters, and had subjectively agreed upon a heightening of the temperatures of a few degrees.

              Though accustomed to tell his body to relax, and vibrate at a lower frequency to counteract the sticky and displeasing effects of the heat, Al was finding sleep hard to find. Usually, he would attribute those moments of twitching slumberness to mass accessing of subjective information and bringing them to the objective. With the eclipse that would occur in the next weeks, those were still time of great cosmic synchronistic congruence.

              Needless to say, he and Tina had been somewhat stirred by Becky’s sudden casualness, and relative abandon not only of the Reality Play but also of her three lovely first born to her friends.
              People of that mysterious facility that Becky had briefly spoken so highly of had been doing a fantastic job, considering the very early birth, but still, Al had soon noticed the babies were displaying some kind of emotionless state which was eerie to observe in children that young. He had first thought of a remnant from the birth trauma, but it appeared that they were all perfectly aware, and even more than that, accutely aware of their environment to the point of displaying qualities of awareness akin to telepathy or pre-sentience.

              Sam’s innate talent with the young ones had been very beneficial to them, and Al was hoping, would help them access their emotional communications as a guidance system to navigate within the immense and potentially overwhelming quantity of subjective information they were given such an easy access to.

              Finally after having spent so much time before the cyputer, Al was collapsing from tiredness. He threw himself on the tatami for a healthy dose of rejuvenating sleep. Or so he thought…

              :fleuron:

              Al woke up with a chill, sweat beading over his eyebrow.
              He remembered.
              They would come… Hybrids from their future… He remembered having met one a few years ago.
              A strange bald guy with piercing eyes and strange snorting twitches on his face. One moment he was talking to him in the middle of the ramp waiting for a condocab, and the moment after, he had forgotten all of this encounter.
              The guy had said intently to wait for the time when the Dream would remind them it was the Time of the Reunion.
              So what was next? Aliens coming in their aluminum flying saucepans making mosquito sounds?
              That sounded awfully like the outrageous rants that old Russian guy named Pasha was making years ago in the archives of Dory —which they had taken as a basis for their Reality Play…

              Gosh, that dream was so vivid, it couldn’t be a coincidence… Especially since the first Hybrids to make contact all looked like they were clones of Becky!

              #949
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                They don’t do much though Sam, do they? said Tina, looking quizzically at the sleeping infants and just managing to repress the urge to prod one of them in order to wake it.

                Sam did not appear to be overly bothered. He was making strange cooing noises and waving a toy Lemur in the air in front of the cribs.

                He glared at Tina. Shush Tina! Do you have no maternal instincts at all? Sleeping or not, they take everything in. Do you know that baby crocodiles talk to each other even from inside the egg? He shook his head in exasperation.

                Don’t mind that mean old Tinipooh, he said gently to the babies. Uncle Sam will play you some nice soothing didgereedoo.

                Tina laughed, kissed Sam affectionately, and made a hasty exit. Not that she didn’t enjoy the didgereedoo, of course.

                #2026

                In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  REELING IN THE green BEAM OF LOVE
                  various ASPECTS OF tracy WENT within
                  perhaps ONE OF THEM KNOWN AS glorIA
                  WOULD BASK IN THE hand OF flove TOO
                  SEEING WITH HER OWN eyes
                  THAT WHICH WILL BE replied
                  NEEDS NOT BE googled
                  IN stone sleep probable SELF laughed
                  LIKE A baby LOOKING AT veranassessee
                  AND vincentius HAVING spiderS track
                  THE TIMETRAVELING bunny…

                  #893

                  The day had been long. Actually, from an outside perspective he had been apparently sleeping almost all of it, so it was not appearing as if it could be a really exhausting day at all.
                  But Al had been extending his body researches in the subjective. He’d started to play again with his various dream bodies he had known the existence of for quite a while now, though he hadn’t yet found the time to experiment with them fully enough. An idea he owed to Sam, who he had been pleased to hear about his unusual experiences in the Australian bush, or more accurately, in the Dreamtime.

                  Playing with these various “bodies”, or qualities of attention and perception, he was aware that his thoughts on the recent events occurring in their story was still unfolding in the backstage of his attention. A rehearsal perhaps…
                  Nevertheless, he was delaying the actual representation, for he felt he was not yet ready for it.
                  He could feel lots of information waiting for him to download them and process them. But he wanted to do it with clarity.

                  Last try had not been very convincing… He had dreamt of a midget Tina, in a flowing mauve and lemon chiffon dress. Of course, in the dream he had taken great care of not hurting her feelings, all the more since she seemed so fond of the dress. He couldn’t really tell her that the dress was giving her an enormous butt and that she was rolling her hips comically when she was walking… Impossible…
                  While dream-Al was searching for words to truthfully convey his appreciation of whatever little thing that could be left to appreciate on that dress, dream-Sam had been quick to tell dream-Tina she looked like fairy Nuf. What had he said! She soon started to weep noisily. Fairy Nuf, as anyone knew, is a purple-clad plump grumpy fairy, with a pointy hat and she couldn’t possibly look that bad.
                  Speak about clarity…

                  Al tried again to concentrate. Taking deep breathes.

                  He could feel more and more clearly the presence of the woman. Her aura was beckoning, and she seemed to want to share information with him —pieces of information he would be free to tell others or not, it didn’t matter.
                  What mattered was that there was this deep desire for this information which was coming from him; and equally as deep as his, her own desire to share was palpable.

                  Salome ” he whispered “ I am ready to see
                  He soon started to fall into another lucid dream…

                  #873

                  A few moments later she was not so sure.

                  What’s the matter?

                  Oh you know … I am a bit distracted …too much going on I guess. She did not want to tell him that she could feel the presence of Mahiliki strongly in the room, his sweet trusting face gazing reproachfully at her. He would be worried about her, worried about the storm. She wondered how he was getting on.

                  I understand, he smiled ruefully, it’s hardly perfect timing is it? Anyway that wasn’t the reason I asked you to meet me here, but I guess it just seemed like too good an opportunity to miss.

                  I am sorry, she said, rolling her eyes.

                  Maybe some other time. He handed her a robe.

                  Sure. She wrapped it tightly around her. Anyway, the Doctor?

                  All taken care of. I left Nurse Bellamy administering warm coconut milk, unbeknowst to her laced with a sedative. The Doctor will be peacefully sleeping for at least 24 hours.

                  And Jarvis?

                  Jarvis is an opportunist, but not dangerous. He was employed by the Doctor as a bodyguard, but has since changed sides. He is now working as a spy for the Magpies.

                  The Magpies?

                  Your hunch was right. The Magpies are operating on the Island, and they plan to strike soon.

                  :fleuron:

                  Sha was gazing dejectedly at herself in the mirror. Glor what d’ya reckon. Are all these bloody beauty treatments working or wot?

                  Course they are!

                  They looked at each other. Well, maybe it’s a bit soon to tell eh? she said doubtfully.

                  Mavis! Sha shook the lump covered completely by blankets huddled on the bed. Come on Lovey, the storm won’t urt you. What d’ya reckon Mavis, ‘ow do we look?

                  A dishevelled head popped out. You both don’t look no bloody different to me, ‘cept you’ve put weight on, she said honestly.

                  Well that bloody does it, said Glor, We’d better find that Vessie, find out wots wot!

                  #864
                  Jib
                  Participant

                    Sam was having a weird dream in which he was having a romantic relationship with Becky after having influenced Sean in a slippery sleepy slope.
                    As the vision was developing itself, it appeared that they obviously had loads of children, like 7
                    :yahoo_whew:
                    Some of them were energies he was already familiar with, some he had glimpsed during Becky’s broadcast the other day.
                    Some others were newly added to this dimension and Becky and him were gladly offering them an entry point, so to speak… and there was the potential for a few more.
                    Sam smiled, because in wanting so bad not having these children, Becky were adding more fuel to this probability :) no matter who the father was. She may have been struggling with it, but it was one of the main point of her focus.

                    #862

                    “Actually, that’s it! Quintin had feared the implications, as lots of people did.
                    It would mean everything would be allowed. Everything would be true, even the most blatant contradictions would be harmoniously living side by side.”

                    Becky smiled at the marvelously appropriate Reality Play entry that she’d found whilst randomly reading back through their script notes.

                    She’d had a hard time explaining to Sean about the probability glitch in which the note had appeared in the ‘wrong’ reality. He understood the concept of probable realities eventually, but he was hurt and confused as to why Becky had even thought to make up that probability in the first place. Becky hadn’t told him the full story about the dream, feeling that it may in some way be a self fulfilling prophecy if Sean knew that (in one probability, at any rate) he ended up an alcoholic, not to mention all those children! The very thought of all those children was enough to make Becky break out in a sweat, and she wasn’t inclined to add energy to that probable future.

                    Becky explained that she had written the note to Sean (in the Reality Play) to tell him she was leaving him merely as a method of introducing some new characters, but Sean was deeply wounded.

                    She did her best to placate her new husband and take his mind off it, even going so far as to don the shrunken tarty nun outfit. But after the romantic interlude, when Becky had fallen asleep, Sean was unable to stop thinking about it, and he wandered dejectedly into the kitchen, and poured himself a large whiskey.

                    In an ironic twist of fate, a glimpse into a probable future had affected the present, and Sean’s descent into confused drunkenness began in earnest.

                    #853

                    Leah picked her way carefully across the living room, stepping over the sprawled limbs of sleeping guests. The party last night had been a wild one, and overflowing ashtrays and empty bottles littered the room, not to mention a rag taggle assortment of snoring bodies. Leah picked up her laptop and made her way to the kitchen. She rubbed her eyes and yawned as the kettle boiled, and checked her emails.

                    L.E. Muir
                    R. Abbott &Co

                    Choosing to deal with work correspondence after a few cups of coffee, Leah clicked on the next one.

                    Luce Mong
                    c/o Leah Muir

                    Hhmm, it’s from Becky Vane Wrick. I wonder who that is? I wonder if it’s that gal we met in Long Pong last year?

                    #846
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Crisp fluttered to the floor as Becky drifted off to sleep. She was having an odd dream, in which she was hugging Sam. I’m so glad you don’t drink Sam, she said, emotionally, in the dream.

                      Well, I do have an occasional pint down at the Duck and Firken, you know, he replied.

                      You know what I mean, Sam. All those years with Sean, hoping it would all work out…her dream voice trailed off sadly….

                      Hey Becky, it wasn’t a waste! Look at all the lovely children you had!

                      Becky felt her dream self smile ruefully. Well, it hasn’t exactly been a picnic either, you know….

                      She woke up sweating and confused. Good grief, all WHAT children! What a dreadful nightmare!

                      She was wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead when Sean popped his head round the door.

                      I’m popping out for a beer, Becky, won’t be long.

                      Holy Moly, Becky whispered under her breath.

                      #829
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Ella Marie Tindale was one of the many people reported missing after the floods. Her body was never found and her husband Arthur intuitively felt that she was still alive, although he had said little to the police. They hadn’t connected the mummy’s disappearance to his wifes disappearance, but Arthur had his suspicions.

                        One night a few weeks previously, Arthur heard Ella Marie talking in her sleep. She often mumbled aloud, that was nothing out of the ordinary, but Arthur had had a nasty jolt when he read about the theft of the mummy, and recalled that Ella had been talking to a mummy in her sleep. He couldn’t imagine why Ella would steal a mummy, let alone walk out on their marriage in the middle of a flood, of all things, but then, Ella had always been strange.

                        Arthur Tindale sighed. He missed his wife.

                        #826

                        Irtak was following a singing path inside the Marshes.
                        It was cold and windy. The air had this putrid smell that was not so unpleasant. It was adding to the dimensions he was already exploring. He wasn’t feeling the fatigue of walking in that soaked land, his attention was focused on the movement and not the obstacles.

                        The twins were walking or flying, changing shape swiftly as the vibrations of the song were accelerating or slowing down, moving between all the energy currents and the lives of these Marshes. His perception merged with those of his companions, it was a completely different reality he was exploring. And these lands were straddling many dimensions, their energies intermingled with other times and spaces.

                        The vibration had something similar to where they were from, but it was hidden and tenuous. The dominant harmonics were indicating to him that it was not even the same time framework and their cave was not even dug yet, not even one inhabitant had settled to create his village.

                        The vibration suddenly decreased to a tiny nudging in the rear of his head… he was feeling sleepy and Heckle and Jeckle were now winding themselves on the damp floor as if for sleeping. Irtak was feeling their attention move from this regional area slightly, accessing it from another angle. He sat down and realized that though it was humid, it was also warm and soothing.

                        He soon let his attention drift away, merged with these of his friends.

                        #2019

                        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          SITTING IN THE sun reading THE magic journal AFTER A walk, THE connection TO elikozoe AND CO WAS full IN MY MIND. I FELL Asleep quickly, must BE THE short NIGHTS ON earth. WOKE UP WITH A ParchED feeling AND felt LIKE A bride cleaning UP AFTER THE WEDDING. I noticed IT seemed LIKE A FASTliving week FOR THE sand aspects OF THE DRAGONS, SO I googled IT TO TRY AND sort IT OUT.

                          #817

                          How restless that dragon is, thought Arona. Always shifting this or that, always talking in his damn riddles. She thought fondly of Buckberry, and how peaceful and content he seemed by comparison.

                          She was no longer sure where she was. She had gone over it a few times in her mind, but try as she might she could not make sense of Leormn’s cryptic explanations. Or that Malvina either, although at least she is a bit more pleasant about it.

                          Anyway, wherever it is, it feels a bit grey, she decided matter-of-factedly. And I am missing the others, even that grumpy Mandrake if the truth be told.

                          She closed her eyes and began to paint colours over the grey. She was not sure what to paint at first, so she just dabbed bright blobs of colour haphazardly onto her mind’s canvas. The colours began to run into each other and form shapes and it it seemed to her they wanted to take on a life of their own. So she let them, and it was not long before she found herself in a meadow of spring flowers.

                          That’s much better, she thought, taking a deep breath and lying back in the soft green grass.

                          :fleuron:

                          As she lay there her mind drifted sleepily, butterfly thoughts every now and then resting on some bright petal in her field of flowers.

                          Just living is not enough, said the butterfly as it danced by her head, one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower.

                          Oh! said Arona excitedly, recognising the words from a far away time, You must be the butterfly of the story! The one my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl in the Village.

                          Perhaps I am! danced the butterfly and it whirled and twirled and swirled in the sky.

                          Arona rolled her eyes in exasperation. Now you sound a bit like that wriggly dragon. A simple yes or no would suffice.

                          The butterfly landed on her nose. Now listen here you! Don’t go blaming me. I am YOUR imagination!

                          Oh good point Butterfly, said Arona graciously. She pondered a moment … Well in that case …

                          And next moment Mandrake, Vincentius and Yikesy were sitting in the meadow with her.

                          Oh THERE you are Missy, said Mandrake. Might have known you would be lying around in some spring meadow leaving Vincentius and myself to look after your little sprog. Tsk Tsk, he tutted.

                          hmmm, thought Arona, that’s not quite what I had in mind ..

                          I would have said it’s exactly what you had in mind, whispered the butterfly, fluttering by her ear and then off again until it disappeared into the field of colours.

                          Arona turned her attention to Vincentius and Yikesy, sitting a short distance away in the meadow. She noticed how smooth and golden Vincentius’ skin looked in the morning sunlight, and how deep and melodic his voice was as he told Yikesy one of his seemingly endless repertoire of stories. Imagining a gentle hug and a kiss on his sweet, but it had to be said incredibly ugly face, she sent Yikesy into a peaceful sleep.

                          Oh great idea, smiled Vincentius with a wink. What I had in mind all along really. Perhaps you could also imagine Mandrake chasing a field mouse or something?

                          #1760

                          In reply to: Synchronicity

                          ÉricÉric
                          Keymaster

                            More on pink, rats and passion fruits…

                            Just to complete those flovely syncs, here are some others:

                            • Yesterday I had the funniest dream about a big, hot pink, pet rat, which was wandering freely around (no way it could hide with such colours ahaha), and friendlily gnawing on my finger to show me he appreciated to be stroked… :yahoo_thinking:
                            • The night before, I found I couldn’t sleep and was thinking of the last of the two pomegranates we had bought last week, and felt an impulse to do some grenadine syrup with it. It’s full of little seeds, and the juice is very explosive like little pink pixies… And it looks very similar to the “passion fruit” Francie was talking about… Passion, Easter eggleton etc.
                            #813

                            I am here to offer you my services in exchange for board and lodging Madame Chesterhope, said Franiel, deciding to tactfully ignore for now her rather odd remark regarding his reality.

                            Oh please, call me Phoebe. Phoebe smiled kindly at Franiel. Have you come a long way? Well really, I forget my manners. Sit down and I will prepare you a drink and some food. Then you can tell me your story and what has bought you here.

                            And so it was that just a short while later Franiel found himself ensconsed on the settee sipping hot mulled wine from a huge mug. What strange twists and turns life may take, he mused.

                            And whether it was the wine that loosened his tongue, or the kindly look in Phoebe’s eyes and the attentive way in which she nodded her old head so wisely, but he found himself telling her the most surprising things, as though she were an old friend he had known and trusted all his life.

                            Thus it was that it had soon been agreed that Franiel’s proposal would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

                            It is as though you are an angel, laughed Phoebe, sent by God to help me, for it was weighing heavily upon me that there is much that needs doing. Dear Lydia who you met on the path, well what would I do without her, but she is not getting any younger, and Derwent …. her voice trailed off.

                            Well you are the second person to call me an angel, for I met Derwent earlier who also mistook me for an angel, but I am afraid I must disappoint you both, for I am a very ordinary mortal.

                            Oh I am not the slightest bit disappointed, smiled Phoebe. Here, she said, delving into the top drawer of a huge oak dresser, take these keys. I keep most of the rooms locked, for the place is so big and there is no need for all those rooms. Feel free to have a look around as you will. You will find your room prepared for you on the second floor, third room on the right.

                            Franiel was surprised and it must have showed on his face.

                            It is the room I keep ready for visitors. She chuckled. Most of the visitors I have here have no need of a place to sleep mind-you.

                            These are the others you spoke of earlier? asked Franiel,curious. At that moment though Phoebe’s attention was distracted. She looked towards the window, which was wide open though there was a chill in the late afternoon air.

                            Ah! there you are my lovely one! she cried, her face lighting up in delight as a large and colorful parrot flew in the window and landed on her shoulder.

                            The bird squawked and cast a steely gaze on Franiel.

                            Of course I will introduce you, said Phoebe calmly, Franiel, meet Vincentius.

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