Search Results for 'smile'

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  • #1041
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “I want to go home”, sighed Jose. “I just want to go home.” He sighed again as he stood looking out of the cabin. What a mess it all was. Cyclone Ycart had left a trail of mangled wreckage in her wake, but it wasn’t just the devastation on the island, it was the atmosphere, the feeling of chaos, the sense of hidden turmoil permeating the place that made him weary and homesick.

      “Ah, JoselitoPaquita whispered softly, stroking his hair gently “Why do you want to go home? What about the treatments?”

      “Oh, bugger the treatments!” Jose frowned. “I don’t think I want the treatments any more, you know.” He looked at Paqui’s face. “I never even notice your skin anymore, I like it just the way it is. I don’t even worry about my scars any more, either.”

      “I know what you mean” Paqui smiled. “I’m not worried about it either, anymore. I’d like to go home too now. The question is, though, how do we get off this god forsaken island?”

      Jose sighed again. “God only knows”

      Paqui took Jose by the hand and led him back inside the cabin. “Remember what I was telling you about the ancients dreaming together? How the tribe would dream together, plan where to go next? How they would work things out in their dreams? Let’s try it. Let’s go to sleep and when we wake up we’ll compare notes, and see if we can come up with a solution”

      Jose smiled a crooked smile, thinking that sleep sounded as good as anything else he could think of to do. Well, perhaps there was one other thing. Jose winked at Paqui as he closed the door behind them.

      :fleuron2:

      When they woke up the sun was low enough on the western shore to cast long umber shadows across the cabin floor, and dust particles danced in the golden sunbeams. Jose woke first and lay still, savouring the remnants of dream images. He felt good; the indescribable sense of having accomplished some meaningful communications with known but elusive others that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, yet couldn’t deny the validity of. It was some minutes before he remembered the plan to dream of a solution to the problem of how to get off the island, and in an instant the well-being evaporated as he struggled to recall any useful details, and frustratingly found that he couldn’t recall a thing.

      “Focus on the feeling, Joselito” a voice in his head said. The voice had come through loud and clear, a deep male voice with a hint of a merry chuckle. “Ha ha ha!” The voice boomed again, as if in response to Jose’s awareness of him. An image of dusty reddish skin, swathed in indigo blue cloth flashed through Jose’s mind, and then vanished like a particle of dust moving out of the sunlight into the shadows.

      Paqui was beginning to stir, and started mumbling. “The pool, the rock pool, there’s a cave under the pool, hold your breath it won’t be long and out the other side…” She opened her eyes and sat up. “There’s a pool, Jose, and under the pool there’s a tunnel. That’s how we get off the island.”

      Jose frowned. “Paqui, this island is in the middle of the ocean, miles from anywhere. Even if there is a tunnel, and even if it goes anywhere at all, it would take months to get to the mainland on foot!”

      “Focus on the feeling, Joselito ~ Ha ha ha!” That voice in his head again! Jose was starting to think he was going mad. Suddenly he was filled with doubts and hopelessness. Everything seemed so utterly ridiculous. God, what was he doing here on this island! Everything was crazy here. If only he could just go home!

      “Focus on the feeling, Jose.” The voice was gentle now, and kind. “The feeling will take you home”.

      “I don’t know what you mean!” cried Jose in exasperation. “How can a feeling take me home? It’s not logical!”

      Paqui smiled a wise old smile and said “If you can’t trust yourself, dear one, then trust me for now. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

      “But we don’t even know where the pool is! What if we can’t find it?”

      “Focus on the feeling Jose, and trust that we will.”

      #1040
      Avatar1da
      Participant

        7:33:59 AM 8-19-08 ∞1da Geolocation Time.

        days of sleeping slip by. the light on the peaks soft, golden in the cool dawn. a shiver. the water would be cold but thirst is a motivating factor. movement would mean warmth. birds flitting from branch to branch…

        stones to perch on. river jade at my finger tips. the babble of a quickly flowing stream. scooping with one hand to drink from a clear pool, the musky scent of cedar and low water.

        across the wide stream, a river. actually. no. the amount of water between a stream and a river. a young buck, head bent low also drinking. antlers. how are years marked again? two prongs on each side. is that two years after reaching mating age? or four. no matter. eyes latch across rapidly flowing water. we watch each other. both still, both quiet. both recognizing in each other another survival being of dreams.

        dream memory extending into long ago. no. longer than that. the rules to colonizing a planet. simple universal rules. one band of survival beings with a limited number of nuclear families from any survival being group that wishes to expand into livable planets. set down in one place – with nothing. no food. no implements. not even clothes. if they survive they colonize. if not. well. the universe is full of tried and failed experimentation. The pulse of all that is drawn into a black hole. drawn in and back out through tunnels of light that are trapped within the black hole…

        the fact that more than one form of survival being can attempt to colonize one planet at any given time is both an advantage and a disadvantage. they become resource for each other as well as competition – resource and competition, as is all that is within and upon the planet.

        still that cave, that First Cave. on the tip of the continent in the southern hemisphere… blue ocean view… a beginning that is long ago. how long ago? 160,000 planet years? 200,000 thousand planet years? late arrivals as we are, this is where our colonization is now. Digging to find those memories and what is left of that initial arrival…

        walking up this valley on the other side of a continent, an ocean away from First Cave… funny how time advances forward and backward in both directions – in all directions – and remains the same. This now is the same now as that now and remains the same in both directions as it passes around each of us.

        the sun trickling across the tips of trees lower and lower into the valley. another half an hour and it will be in my face.

        might as well eat breakfast while I walk. thimble berries, currents, oh! yarrow. i could make tea. – if I made fire. If I had fire… or i could make yarrow tea because i have sun. . .

        at peace within because i know i am returning to the High Portal Cave on the mountain, near the timberline. the central entrance, near the ancient pine. The safe harbor of the High Portal Cave, the entrance to a multitude of passageways, interconnecting chambers and stunning connecting points that open beyond this time and beyond this continent – before and after this continent. probably, through the right passage way opening beyond this planet. I don’t know that, it makes sense that it does. I believe I will find out in my memory or in my future. i remember some of these things and places. not all of them. i remember entering, finding the stone trough of water with the wooden drinking bowl on the damp ledge. i remember passageways that lead to incredible places and times. why return now? without knowing i know. this is the way it is because this is the way it will become.

        warm sun on my chest. warm from walking. birds, quiet as i approach, resume their constant foraging as i pass. along the shore the constant sound of the river stream like the white noise of the universe, beautiful and ever present so that if i am not mindful i no longer hear it.

        a walking stick. ok, a broken branch caught between boulders. still green enough to be strong, almost as thick as my forearm with little taper and altho it is not straight, it is a head taller than i am – perfect. a walking stick. a walking staff. i work it loose from the rocks. strange markings… the hand of an intelligent being – a gift then.

        do images become visible on these pages or only the thoughts and sights from within my mind, i wonder. i try to remember not to believe all that i think… if i wonder… then do i attempt to find out? yes, often enough, yes. and why is short hair exciting, new, a sign of adventuring? changes. oh. perhaps. or perhaps it’s a way of changing breath. I smile. I walk on.

        #1026

        The GPS was indicating that she was getting closer every minute. She was at less than 8 minutes as the crow flies from the island.
        She had to make a small detour to avoid the now less powerful but still dangerous cyclone Ycart, but all was under control.
        The night had fallen upon her like a bird of prey, and cloaked in the velvety shadows, she smiled, baring her teeth full of squashed mosquitoes.

        All absorbed by the blinking lights of the GPS, and her head full of the roar of the wind and the raging sea, she sadly didn’t notice the hydroplane coming from her left at full speed.
        The shock was brutal, and Madam Chesterhope got ejected from her motorbike which went with her alongside, spiraling down until crashed into the ocean.

        WHAT THE…!”

        :fleuron:

        We hit something! the distraught pilot shouted to Mahiliki.
        Drawing his knife again, thinking of how close he was now to dear sweet Vera, he shouted back “any damage? how close are we now?”
        “Seems OK, but what about the thing we hit?”
        “Bugger it! Move!”

        #1019
        Avatar1da
        Participant

          1da stood on the shore. amazement splattering awe across his universe. he knew as a seeker he had to return. his journey beginning once again, he watched closely as he stepped from stone to stone along the pathless shoreline of the clear water stream. the scent of cedar and low water rocks covered in moss penetrating deeply with each breath, he smiled… his return and arrival on this planet far into the valley he always and forever would returned to because it was the center of his seeking, he found the depth of his awareness opening…

          “wait. which planet is this again? of the 19 it has to be one of my favorites.”

          “timing is everything.” the whisper of the universe

          “damp drats. missed again.” he replied to the babbling waters.

          “greetings all ye who enter upon my existence.”

          – 1da – as in the number 0ne (1) & da as in the smallest particle of nothingness. 8-07-08 …because of course 1da watches from a distance. planet geopositioning time being 4:27:42 PM in about the middle of the Pacific Pond.

          #1004
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Becky was undecided. Add to the last entry? Or start another? Grinning wickedly, she started another.

            Her second impulse selection was a slightly late coincidence, but a coincidence notwithstanding. It was about Sand Dragons . A Few days previously Becky had been to an auction. She bid for and won a first edition copy of Wisp magazine; it had cost her an arm and a leg, but she was delighted with her purchase. It would increase in value, and was a delight to read some of the first published articles of the many authors, poets, artists and photographers who would later become famous. The article about sand sculptures had reminded her of the T.R.A.P. day out.

            Well, how about that! exclaimed Becky, reading the rest of the comment. Wish House is one of my most favourites, and I chose it by accident!

            She read:

            Illi used to play a game with Cranky (as she affectionately called nanny Chraddock) in the long months while her parents were away, called Wish House. Every room in the sprawling Elizabethan house was a different time and place, and the moment they entered the room they imagined themselves to be different people, in other times. Petunia Duster the maid loved to join in too; consequently not alot of housework got done, but with Gus and Flora always off travelling, nobody minded. Playing was, after all, so much more important than dust. In fact, a thick layer of dust made the rooms all the more mysterious and magical.”

            Becky ran her finger along the dust on her desk and smiled.

            OH! Becky jumped. I almost forgot to make a note of the number, now what was it? she mused, scratching her head. I think it was 171 :notepad:

            Becky wondered whether or not to start another entry. Intuitively, she chose not to. Her third random choice was another synchronicity with the first edition of Wisp: it was about pyramids in Spain. The first edition of Wisp magazine was particularly valuable as it was the first mention in print of the discovery of the Iberian pyramid culture.

            Number 835 she noted :notepad:

            #1002

            Becky noticed with a satisfied smile that the word ‘Becky’ was by far the biggest word in the cloud. Hhhhmmmm, interesting, she murmured as she perused her random (well semi-random ~ she had deliberately chosen a cloud-batch with her name in it) selection of words.

            sudden feeling!! :yahoo_surprise: breathe!! :yahoo_yawn: remembered sort (appear soft?) :yahoo_wasntme: ~ akayli?? ~ :yahoo_thinking: seem…. cave…. yeah, huge! :cluebox: known luce; knew agreed. :yahoo_thumbsup: becky full power hey! :buffoon:

            #983

            Madame Chesterhope went to the garage, to get one of her preferred modes of transportation.
            She had dressed for the occasion in black leather, shouting a spell in a hurry to the mirror which had been flippantly reflecting back at her some awfully podgy image. Voodoo mirrors weren’t the quality they used to be these days. Bloody buggers of Goblinkeas manufactors… She would have a word with them soon.

            There it was. A shiny Farley Travinston motorbike.
            With some magical modifications, of course, but it had retained overall form and purpose closely similar to the original design. How she loved those machines! She had started to gather them for centuries (in Earth way of counting time), and she could still remember her very first one, the wreck it was compared to this one
            Of course, she had no use for them, but wasn’t that the point of decadent treasure piling up?

            All geared up, she hopped on the seat, and started the trans-dimensional engine. Where was it already? Pacific island… That could sound like vacations she smiled to herself…

            #979
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              Why not take that daffodil paint here, to paint a door, sweetie? Leormn said with the most charming toothy smile that Arona could hardly resist kissing the scaly face.

              #974

              Malvina is outpouring love, sighed Leormn happily to Arona, with a little smile on his face.

              Arona rolled her eyes. Hmmph, well that is all very nice, but meanwhile I can’t get into the damn cave, which, quite frankly Dragon, would not worry me other than I am anxious to locate my friends.

              And then she burst into loud sobs.

              I have had a gutsful of you and Malvina and your shifting of things, she managed to gulp out eventually. Shifting this, shifting that! and nothing looks any better after all the damn shifting. I mean what on earth is the point of it?

              :yahoo_crying:

              #966
              EricEric
              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?

                  #961

                  Much to Arona’s surprise…

                  Although I don’t know why I am continually surprised, she thought, surely I am getting used to this weirdo story by now.

                  Well anyway, Arona found herself standing outside of Malvina’s cave. She was still so caught up in the last warm remnants of her delightful reverie in the field of flowers it took her a few moments to realise that the entrance to the cave had disappeared and was now a solid wall of stone.

                  Hmmmm, yes, said Leormn, appearing in the nick of time to answer her unspoken question, Yes, Malvina has been shifting things around again.

                  I can’t get in though! complained the ever astute Arona.

                  No, agreed Leormn reflectively, you can’t. Well there is another entrance, but this has only been disclosed to an elite few. He smiled smugly.

                  #958
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Roshan sipped his tea thoughtfully. I hope you know what you’re doing, Gayesh.

                    Gayesh smiled confidently at his uncle. Stop worrying, Roshan! It’s all going perfectly to plan. Nishanti will be here in a few days; she will act as bait for the others. Becky is already here, and doing well. I don’t anticipate problems with Becky.

                    Roshan snorted.

                    Gayesh continued: Bea and Leonora have been contacted, although they are not objectively aware yet. We may have to send someone back; we need their cooperation.

                    Roshan raised his eyebrows. And what if they don’t cooperate?

                    Gayesh replied with a sinister chuckle, Leave it to me, uncle. Things are coming together perfectly.

                    #946
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Oh, by the way, Gayesh….. Becky turned as she leaving his office. What about those babies? My babies, she corrected herself.

                      The babies will be fine, they will be returned to the father, ahem, to Sean, the husband, for upbringing, along with the clone.

                      Oh phew, said Becky, feeling slightly guilty for her lack of maternal feelings.

                      Becky, Gayesh got up from behind his desk and walked over to Becky and held her hands in his, peering kindly into her eyes. Maternal feelings are not a requirement you know, it’s merely a preference of some. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with choosing a clone to bring up your children. It’s not ‘wrong’ to choose a clone to live with a husband chosen in haste and in error…not that there are any errors! he chuckled. You will see how perfectly this will all work out. Trust me! Better still, trust YOURSELF!

                      You’re so kind, Gayesh! Becky gushed. And really rather attractive too, she smiled slyly. Did she wink at Gayesh? Maybe she did. Or maybe it was one of those eye twitches. Gayesh watched her saunter down the corridor, smiling.

                      #945
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Becky visited the nursery at The Facility every day, and smiled vaguely at the triplets, relieved that they were thriving and being well cared for. She had spent several happy hours ordering a new wardrobe online, charging it all to The Facility, whose staff were being wonderfully kind and accomodating. She spent the days reading historical novels, lounging on the recliners on the numerous patios and balconies, or strolling through the colourful leafy gardens, or floating in the cool lotus filled pools, without a care in the world.

                        The past few months had been draining, exhausting. The unexpected break from everything that was familiar was doing her a power of good.

                        One hot still afternoon, Gayesh, the director of the facility, called her into his large airy office. The antique ceiling fan ruffled the papers on his desk. The papers were part of the antique decor, giving the room a nostalgic 20th century air.

                        Becky, we have been observing you while you’ve been staying with us, Gayesh said kindly. And we would like to make you an offer.

                        Observing me? asked Becky, feeling a trifle violated.

                        Oh, you know, at the essence level, dear, replied Gayesh, with a gentle smile. Your essence did agree, we couldn’t be intrusive, of course, as you know.

                        Oh well, if my essence agreed that’s ok I guess, answered Becky, mollified. What’s your offer?

                        Gayesh explained at length the purpose of the Facility, while Becky yawned and studied her new shoes, her mind wandering…

                        …….and so, in a nutshell, Gayesh was saying, If you give us permission, we can send a cloned Becky back to Galle, and the husband Sean, while you, my dear, do whatever you desire. You can be mother to the essences already lined up to manifest via your, er, the clones, body (and may I point out that none of our undercover clones so far have been uncovered, shall we say), which will facilitate….Gayesh chuckled….your new found freedom! You will be a free Becky that nobody knows exists! Free to wander hither and yon, without any responsibilities…..what do you say?

                        I accept your offer, sir! Becky said, jumping up to shake Gayesh’s hand.

                        #943
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                          #934
                          EricEric
                          Keymaster

                            New Venice, March 2034

                            After so many “haven’t been on my honeymoon yet!” ( ¹² ) , Becky was relieved to see that she had fast-forwarded time so nicely that, finally, in a few hours of time now, they would depart for Sri Lanka.

                            Of course, the last events with her wavering in different probabilities, and manifesting more of what she had tried —almost by reflex— to avoid were still on her mind. She had felt a bit sorry for Sean, but she knew all along that the choices were hers, and worrying unduly about others, even if that was about her dear spouse, wouldn’t be efficient at all, needless to say not even slightly helpful.
                            She had to concentrate more on the way she wanted to express herself. That way, she knew she would draw to her the perfectly appropriate situations —while the less than appealing stuff would recede in the background under a good dose of acceptance fairy dust.

                            Though still a bit weary of her unexpected pregnancy from a future traveler who hadn’t even had the tact to propose her to elope with him, her minds were fresh and excited as ever at the thought of hopping like a daft goat on the Lion’s Rock in Sigiriya. And her good mood seemed to have an infectious effect on Sean who hadn’t even inquired of what local liquor there would be on the island. Perhaps the aura of the spiritual region had already blessed Sean with some renewed optimism.

                            As she was fondly stuffing her skimpy honeymoon outfit in the already ready to burst piece of luggage, she smiled blissfully, remembering all of a sudden how she had forgotten to be gentle with herself these past few days, and how nice it was to treat herself with shiny and twinkling shards of spicy new adventures.
                            She could indeed feel the excitement of doing some psychic archeology (as her step-mother used to call that) on these spots full of collective energies that she hadn’t had the taste of in many months.

                            #930

                            Tikfijikoo was in sight, washed by strong winds and pouring rain.
                            Hopefully, the major part of cyclone Ycart has passed.
                            A faint smile briefly illuminated Mahiliki’s face at the thought of soon being reunited with his love.

                            #921

                            It had been a week now. Georges had fully taken his role as Shu-Lom, the eleventh Gate in the Council of the Guardians. His mergence with the actual focus of Blöhmul was fading out ; the transition had been smooth, unnoticed by most of the Guardians, even his closest friends. Georges was careful not to display any unusual change in Shu-Lom’s attitude, though some of them were showing signs of suspicion, especially… his own focus, Sinadron who was the most susceptible to be aware of the difference. Georges had been avoiding him since his arrival, but he would eventually have to face him for one of the rituals soon to begin.
                            Of the eleventh other Guardians, only 2 were considering him as a friend, Doh’Maar and Vogel. Most of the others were ignoring him during the sessions and Sinadron were despising him. Well, technically he was despising Shu-Lom and the change would not make things go easier between the 2 of them as the energy of their 2 focuses were sort of repulsing each other.
                            Following Shu-Lom’s habits, he was heading to the public baths, but contrary to him, he was going during daylight. He needed some answers. He had been feeling strong tensions between the Gates, and there were also underlying feeling of discontentment and anger among the other Guardians. For the first time in their history, unknown groups of their kind were attacking the other races and provoking them and generating feelings of fear, even amongst the Guardians.
                            The man he was following would give him some of the answers. He would have to befriend him first though. Noraam had a smooth energy, and he would be easy to approach, especially in the dampness of the baths.

                            Noraam was wearing an grey cape, attached on his shoulders with carved fibulae. His robe was short, above his knees, and rather dark. He was quite young by the standards of the Guardians and still fiery. Shu-Lom was young too, about the same age as Noraam, but he was quite pessimistic and self-effacing, and especially he wanted to leave, that he did, and Georges took his place.
                            Georges suddenly felt a familiar energy, one that he would recognize anywhere, anytime. Salome… rather another focus of her essence. Hahaha, that was a surprise, and he almost lost track of what he was doing. Noraam was already taking the stairs up to the baths. Something about the energy of that focus was attractive, he still didn’t know who it was or what he/she(?) was doing here. Maybe just a projection. He didn’t have time to investigate. Heading to the stairs where Noraam was already being dematerialized and rematerialized to the first level, he heard a child’s voice.

                            Can you help me?.. I know you can.

                            What again, another distraction… he would be late to the baths and maybe loose the occasion to speak with the other Gate.

                            Looking down at the origin of the voice, he was surprised to see a little girl, red hair and amber eyes. As he could see, she was blind, but as he could feel, she was quite capable of seeing things.

                            Do I know you, little one? He had not been aware of this child in Shu-Lom’s memories, and he was wondering if he had missed something during his encounters with the original.

                            You dreamt of me the other night, but you weren’t here yet.

                            Her last words triggered a memory, of him carrying a naked little girl in his arms, protecting her in a way, and he was following a man in his dream, trying to keep track… in his dream, he was rushing and almost lost the child, following also Salome who had already taken the stairs… yes he was here in his dreams, the place and the stairs were the same… as was the child.

                            What is your name little one? In my dream you were followed by an owl
                            You can call me Ar’Meel.

                            :fleuron:

                            Sam thought he could write it somewhat differently. With his understanding of Georges’ abilities, he could well have split in two and followed Salome and stayed with the girl simultaneously and maybe even Noraam.
                            A smile.
                            He was feeling wobbly and wavy. A ripple effect?
                            It seemed that there had been a strange recognition between his character and himself. It was like Georges was aware of Sam wanting to change what had happened… or was it a suggestion of Georges?

                            #919

                            It only took a few seconds for Armelle to deflate though she donned off with a hint of reluctance the delightfully filling feeling of power she had acquired notwithstanding the slight overweight (a few grams at best, given her immaterial nature of pristine white hallowy owly essence, but you could not reasonably expect to be really ascended with even no more than a few grams of physicality left, could you?)…

                            So, it only took a few seconds, which in essence’s inner time was tantamount to a mere eon (a merry myriad of seconds).

                            But then, all was so clear.
                            She was seeing the trail that was left unwatched by the spiders, and that her friends would take to the wort-hole.

                            Claude, my dear, would you be so kind as to oblige me for a few minutes? she regally asked her host of the branches, taking great care not to be too self-conscious, which would irremediably make her roll her eyes and lose all composure.
                            Well… err… I s’pose yes…
                            Indeed. Then, take good care of the wort-hole, and wait for us to come back, and then lead us back to the place from whence you came.
                            Wouldn’t do that, if I were you… It’s full of magpies there…
                            Oh bugger now. Armelle sighed so profusely that it made the hair raise on Claude’s head. The Snoot told me the way would be clear, so… have a little faith in me she said in a cocker’s voice.

                            And there, in a majestic elan, she went back to the spot where her friends were now gently getting together.

                            :fleuron:

                            When she arrived, Akayli the were-lynx had just been deposing his precious package of the two silk-wrapped parents at the feet of little Anita. The first minutes of doubt passed, her hesitant face started to show a smile, knowing that her parents would be fine.

                            Yuki was for himself all very impressed by the transformergence of his friends, and was finding that a very good idea to get more focused.
                            However, he could hear the yet unvoiced protests of Armelle at his yet unphrased suggestion of a mergence
                            Now way I get my white feathers mixed in that bloody smelly goat’s fur!
                            And of course, he could hear too the yet unvoiced slew of outraged protests
                            Smelly goat? Who you bloddy call a smelly goat, you persnickity saucer-eyed shuttlecock?

                            Yet… Yuki, gazing for a few seconds of essence in the stream of possibilities, weighted again the enticing result that a mergence of the three of them would produce…
                            Which would be… a… grabbiffon.
                            A magnificent winged horned cotton-tailed… sort of… gryffun… or grumpfoon.
                            Well… perhaps Armelle was right in the not-yet-voiced first place.

                            That would just be plain ridiculous.

                            So… what are we waiting for?! Let’s do it now!! all three of them laughed in unison :D =)) :creating_magic: :buffoon:

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