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  • #1135

    — “Dory?”
    — “What, hon’?” a distracted Dory answered to young Becky
    — “You’d better remove the magnets from the iron, or you’ll ruin another one…”
    — “What are you talking about?!” Dory was perplexed, trying to find her way through the airport to Gate 57-¾, but only to find nothing but benches in between Gate 57 and 58.
    — “Oh, never mind… It’s only a dream and you probably won’t remember it anyway.”

    “There!” the suspicious bag lady of the Heathrow terminal had reappeared briefly just for Dory to spot her entering the restrooms.
    Becky was already rolling the heavy bumper-stickers patched suitcase to follow her without question.

    — “But why are you taking the suitcase to go to the bathroom, Beck’?”
    — “What are you talking about Dory!” Becky was sometimes losing patience. “Can’t you see it’s the entrance for Gate 57-¾?!”
    — “Uh?” A moment of clueless mystery on Dory’s face. “Oh…” Another mini-black hole on her face.

    “Oh. Okay then. Let’s go…”

    If there was something that her exotic life had taught Dory, it was to never question the moment. If the circumstances are here, if the impulse is there, then go for it. Explanations will follow. And in case they don’t, make them up as you roll and rock!

    Becky meanwhile was rather surprised at how people, even her own step-mother, as tuned in ghostly stuff as she was, most of the time failed to see the things for what they really are. And if these big painted letters on the door “GATE 57 ¾” weren’t obvious enough, and people preferred to interpret them as restrooms, then… what else could be done? She sighed.
    Later on, she would learn that it was a common, well documented trait in human consciousness; that people were sometimes psychologically (but not physically) blind to stuff outside of their current focus of attention, or simply blind to things too far off their beliefs; in other terms, it was a matter of energy reconfiguration. As long as it worked…

    “Oh look at that… Yukailli Airlines counter is here! What bloody stupid idea to put a closet door at the entrance…”

    After having made the departure arrangements at the counter, Dory came back to Becky who was looking outside at the planes.

    — “Ain’t them beautiful?”
    — “Yeah, and I suppose you’re seeing planes, aren’t you?”
    — “Err, yes of course, what else, silly… Though now you ask me, they seem a bit weird… foggy or something”.

    In fact, what Becky was seeing wasn’t conventional planes. It was more like “fly-boats”. Some sorts of hybrid ships made to fly with huge wings transparent and shiny like those of flies.

    — “I hope they have crunchy coleslaw for meal, I’m starving” a contented and tired Dory said, when she collapsed into the comfortable seats.

    #1132
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Dory finished the puzzle, yawned and glanced at her watch. There was no sign of the flight to Long Pong leaving any time soon, so she made her flightbag into a pillow and settled herself along the plastic seating for a nap.

      She dreamed first of her grandparents in their old house in Slurbridge. The house was the same, but her grandparents, Florence and Samuel, were much younger than she had ever known them during her lifetime. They were preparing for guests, and Florence was rearranging the bedding in the upstairs bedrooms. Apparently one more guest was expected than previously arranged, and she had squeezed in a single camp bed next to a double bed. Dory had an idea the camp bed was for Dan’s niece, Aurelia. Funny that, as Florence and Samuel had never known Aurelia ~ or Dan for that matter.

      The dream landscape changed then to an island. The “Others” were coming and she and her friends had to hide. “Let’s hide in the pyramid” one of them had said, but Dory replied “No, we must hide somewhere less obvious, until we know what the “Others” are like.” They weren’t afraid, but they were taking precautions. Someone had been looking after the dogs and cats, but when Dory went to check on them, they had been ‘kept safe’ in a freezer. As Dory opened the door, a half frozen black cat emerged and ran off. “I reckon she’s better off taking her chances out there than in the freezer!” said Dory. At the bottom of the freezer were some frozen parts of Tom, Captain Bone. There was no sign of the others, but strangely, Dory wasn’t worried.

      Next to the freezer was a cupboard, and Dory grabbed a handful of magnetic fridge letters, thinking that they would come in handy as clues while they were hiding from the “Others”.

      “Yukailli Airlines direct flight leaving for Tikfijikoo Island at Gate 57 and three quarters” the bag lady prodded Dory, amidst a shower of electric blue sparks. “Wake up!”

      #1115

      Marvin Scrozzezi was taking a look at the rushes they’d taken the other day. At first he was considering putting them in the bonus section of his movie, a blooper section or something.

      But now, the blooper section was overweighting the “real” movie by far. And with the defection of few of the actors (well, “actors” was more of an empty shell of a title than anything else, as most of them were friends or acquaintances), he had to hire new ones.

      What a mess.

      Roger

      Perhaps he should continue his movie with different actors playing the same role alternatively. That would make a nice change. Perhaps it would even been hailed as a pioneer movie by the auteur movies snotty critics.

      “Whatever works…” he giggled to himself as he started to rewrite some parts of the scripts.

      #1071

      Lady Eagleston enjoyed staying in the warm potting shed, taking her time to enjoy, appreciate and admire the ecstatic beauty of the blooming orchids. She let her thoughts wander for a few moments in the pleasant place smelling of cedar.

      Her old friend, Hector Coon had sent her a rather unusual present this morning: a few bits coming from a watermelon’s rind strangely carved with unusual symbols. What an eccentric charming old fool this Hector
      They both loved to do each other unexpected presents of which they would then try to find some underlying meaning. Not that there was any such meaning to be identified most of the time, but it was some time pleasantly spent.

      So, she had thought the only place safe to bring the bits to was here — mostly to protect them from the furious cleaning practices of Finnley, who wouldn’t have the pleasure to throw them to the garbage this time. She had seen his disgusted look when she had opened the package with excitement.
      Well, now what would he imagine she was doing in there?… :yahoo_whistling:

      #1065

      The smooke of her pipe was creating interesting shapes flooting away from her.
      Elizabeth had the weird impression that her story was taking an uncontrollable turn.
      She woold have written a torrid sex scene with Phoebe and the yoong Russian on the submarine, but it was as if Finnley’s eyes were constantly reminding her of her own nymphoomaniac behavior. She had to let it unexpressed except in her imagination.

      Looking at the last curls of smooke, it was as if the pook-marked face of Pavel was taking life before her eyes. Thanks to her new croop, her feelings were far far away… She let the smooked face decomposed in a gracious gray whale.

      She giggled thinking of Finnley’s disapproval… maybe she’ll write that scene after all.
      She took a sheet of paper and a pen, but soon realized the words were not foorming as expected. The thud prooduced by the pen rolling on the floor was amusing too.

      Ooh!

      The thud prooduced by her body rolling on the floor was more disturbing… and the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was Finnley’s disapproving look… maybe she had written that scene after all…

      A smile on her face she began to snoore soundly.

      #1055

      As she was sinking to the bottom of the raging sea, Madame Chesterhope first felt like a boiling rage inside her, at all the thwarted attempts, all the unfulfilled promises.
      Not a solid thing on which to carve a few runes or symbols to get herself out, not a single living being to use at her profit, she was alone, at the mercy of gravity.
      Not unexpectedly, flashes of her life, of her many lives, flickered like incoherent pieces of an unfinished mosaic in her mind.

      When did it went wrong? she thought… When did she lose touch with her magic.
      Not the mundane magic, not the one she used for these parlor tricks devoid of meaning, like that beautiful flying motorbike which was drowning even faster than her… She was speaking of her inner magic, her sense of connection with the elements, with herself, Phoebe.

      What had become of the frail grey-haired lady the apparency of whom she was so fond of taking years ago?
      She was tempted to blame many things; the twenty-first century of her own dimension, for one, which had made her rough and tough, out of need perhaps, and perhaps a bit out of laziness. It was out of tiredness mostly, tiredness to have to constantly justify her appearance to others, that she had chosen a more convenient one; that of the crone with more rotund forms, of whom one would only expect austerity and strength.
      You can see where it had led you. she was thinking.

      A few more miles further down, and perhaps she would meet the mermaids, like the guy said in that Big Blue motion picture
      Maybe there was some purity left in her heart, that would make the inhabitants of the depths greet her wretched soul. Or perhaps they all died before her, from the pollution of this strange world mutating in pangs and spasms of a painful childbirth.

      And what would you do now, if you have the choice? that sweet voice, like that of a thin grey-haired mermaid, was it her own, testing herself?
      The quest for magical artifacts seemed so far away at this moment. It had begun a long time ago, led her to discover new other-dimensional places… new tricks, all of them for what? To gain control over the elements, the others, everything that could threaten her, force her to change. How ironic. That the fear of change made her change so drastically.
      She wanted to make peace with all of that. The mermaids weren’t coming, but her own voice was still there for her. Perhaps she could muster the strength. To continue…

      Mustering all her force, she forcibly expressed the most propelling “prout” she’d ever made. Of course, she’d been learning a few tricks from the legendary Fartiste back in her youth when she went to Paris to perform at the Moulin Rouge… Sweetest time of her life, she had to admit…

      :fleuron:

      On the surface of the waters, bubbles started to form.

      #1049

      Waiting for Anita to come with Yuki and the others, Rafaela :goat: was discussing with Armelle, who was perched on a branch. :y_orly:

      — See, I’ve been considering getting a more snappy name, you know… Can’t make nice puns with such a daft name, only fit to a goat… beh.”
      — (embarrassed silence)
      — Eggsactly… Mmmm, something shorter…
      — Like Traf?… :yahoo_raised_eyebrow:
      — Beh… it’s “fart” in reverse… isn’t it?… Though… there’s a catchy ring to it… Trafficky Traf, mmm… interesting…
      — (more embarrassed silence, floating insane images of a goat-headed wrestler on a ring of catch…)
      — Mmm, they’re taking such a long time to come, aren’t they?

      (simultaneous time notwithstandingly)

      #1044

      Just behind the plumpy panting woman who was coming to the campfire, Balbina could see the most interesting waddling goat she had ever seen coming along.

      “And I suspect the goat talks too?” Balbina asked Yuki.
      “Oh, yes… lots even… But don’t expect to understand all she says” Yuki added with a bwink.

      Hahaha, Balbina was amazed. That place was the most delirious dream/out-of-body projection she’d had in a long long time. How entertaining.

      “Beh, don’t be fooled, Balbina dear, it’s all real. And you’ll know very soon.” the goat started to greet her.
      “And you are?”
      Rafaela, at your service.”
      “How many more like you are there here? I’ve never seen such a funny zoo…”
      “A great deal actually” answered Yuki “but not so many of them are focused in this form. You still have to meet our dear Armowlle, who is doing some spying business and occasional rescue missions on the island, and our soft Arailynx who is on more subjective missions currently…”

      Balbina was wondering “and why did you say I’ll know very soon?” she asked the goat.
      Rafaela answered with a mysterious smile “Because I’m planning to communicate a way out of this island to two of my little protégés, and I expect some of these people will follow. And you are very likely to meet them in the flesh when they get there.”
      “Really?!” Balbina was amazed. This dream was taking qualities of realness she wouldn’t have suspected the least it to have.

      “Now,” Yuki cut short the amazement moment “we need to have those among our friends willing to leave, to be prepared to leave at dawn.”

      “Okay” Anita, who had been seated on the sand quietly till then, rocking gently from side to side in a calm meditation, said softly.

      “Oh, she really can feel us talking…” Balbina said more to herself than to anyone else. And looking closely at the girl’s energy field, she could see how expanded it was, reaching those of Yuki, Kay the spirit dog, and Rafaela and even hers in luminous threads.

      “Not all of them are leaving tonight” answered Yuki to her unspoken question. “I think Anita and her parents will, but it’s more than probable than the others will stay. Some have business to do here, and others are in vacations huhu…”

      “You’re right, seems like the one with the strange energy field is gone already?”
      “Oh Claude, you mean. Yes. His mummification experience wasn’t too pleasant, and he has unfinished business with the people of the island; no wonder he prefers to stay here on his own.”

      (on the beach, around the campfire, in Regional Area 1, or physical reality)

      Awww, plane-crash you say? ‘ow wonderful… Mavis was chatting with Akita. Ye need to come with me, ye can’t stay ‘ere all night. Besides, Shar and Glaw will be so thrilled to see you. And we were starting to think it was all boring ‘ere; didn’t know they would have real survivors like on real-TV!

      Aaron and his familythey would probably need some better shelter, I assume. This probably would be best for us to come with you… Akita answered. And apparently, Claude has left, so that’s just us…

      Owlright then! Mavis beamed, come with me handsome! she said, clutching the soldier’s muscular arm under hers.
      Don’t worry Akita, we’ll follow you, said Anita to the soldier who was visibly appealed by the woman but was also weary to leave Anita alone with her sleeping parents. Besides, we can see the lights behind the trees, it’s very near…

      See you there Anita! Akita said to Anu
      Bye Akita! And don’t worry, Kay is always with you she said with a mysterious smile.

      As they walked side by side to the facility, Mavis said “Kay? A friend of yours?”
      “Oh, my lost dog… Nothing to worry about” answered Akita absently.

      #1007

      Fabella had just entered the room. She was chatting noisily, as if someone would answer to her. The sound of her footsteps was playing strange ripples on the wooden floor which were mesmerizing to look at.

      “Years ago, I’d have felt obliged to answer her” she was thinking, as she was hovering over her body looking at the freckled nurse.
      “I’d felt obliged by some nonsensical politeness to give her the impression that I was, somewhat, paying attention to her as a person —if not to her chatter.”
      She laughed wholeheartedly.

      “Oh, you’re smiling Madam, but that ain’t the whole thing, you know! Would you imagine that Miss Elena, after such an outcry would have become wiser, but no…”

      The voice was continuing an endless litany of gossips.
      It was obvious that the nurse wasn’t trying to get any answer, much less a conversation from the old body she was giving her daily injection to, she had found out. All the more since that body was so weak and talking was taking more energy than she was willing to give to this action. It was so much more exhilarating to play out of it.
      She was proud of herself, having come to a place not only to feel accepting of that bodily condition that had left her riveted to her chair and bed at an early age, but more so, to feel grateful for it.

      The first steps had been the most difficult: a whole new world so vast it was feeling as wide as a crocodile’s mouth menacing to engulf her. But like the crocodile’s mouth, it was easier to shut it close than one would think, and she had found out that she would snap back to her body each time she was distressed. Quite the opposite of what an adventurous mind like hers would endeavour to conquer. She had no care for her dying body, not with this new-found freedom.
      Perhaps it was a mere springboard for her to get accustomed to death. That’s what her brother had told her once. But he was so fully soaking in religious beliefs that she didn’t know how to handle that he had merely said to her as a gift.
      All that was important was the exploration, which was real to her. And it was, not only to her, but to others too.

      For instance, she was now walking, still around Fabella, observing the interplay of the nurse’s energy field with the other people around her, even though Fabella had finished dealing with her minutes ago.
      In fact, she knew more about Fabella than she could have learned in years of monologues with her. Things like that Ricardo wasn’t the caring guy he was pretending to be with her. But then, she didn’t know how to tell her (and if she had even the right to). She had the feeling that perhaps Ricardo and Fabella’s stories were just distractions that she had found to limit herself in the familiar of her little explorations.
      There was so much more that she could do, she could feel it. There were no boundaries to it.
      She could will herself to be in any place, unnoticed by most.

      Perhaps she could try a “jump” to another location. Trusting that she would come back, as she always had. If if she wouldn’t… well, that could well mean an improvement after all.
      What about something easy? Like some uncharted paradisaical island in the Pacific…

      #1006

      Bea sighed loudly, and dragged a tissue across her sweaty face. Leonora obviously hadn’t heard her, so Bea sighed loudly again.

      What’s up with you now? asked Leo, who wasn’t really paying attention to Bea’s incessant whining.

      Oh I dunno, I just don’t know what I want to do, Bea grumbled. My head’s in a fog. I’ve got hundreds of ideas, but I don’t want to do any of them badly enough to even think about starting anything. So then I try to sort a few thing out, you know, so I can bloody find things again, and I just end up with a big pile of bloody miscellaneous. It’s the bane of my life, all the miscellaneous stuff that defies categorizing. I should have been called Miss A. Laneous. I start to sort things out and then I get sidetracked; I never finish any sorting out, I just end up with more and more miscellaneous….her voice trailed off miserably.

      Leo swiveled round in the computer chair, took off her glasses and glared at Bea. Bea, you know you always find what you need by trusting that you’ll find what you need when you need to find it. You’ve told me that time and time again. You’ve droned on and on about that, how you love finding ‘just the thing’ and ‘by accident’ and now you’re sitting there moaning and groaning because for some inexplicable reason ~ Leonora rolled her eyes ~ you think that having things neatly ordered would be a better way.

      Well, it would be nice to be able to find what I’m looking for, Leo, Bea retorted.

      Well if you found what you were looking for right away, you silly cow, you wouldn’t find all those other magical bloody surprises by friggen accident, now would you?

      There’s no need to be rude, Bea said sniffily.

      Now it was Leo’s turn to sigh. Why don’t you bugger off outside and find something to appreciate, you grumpy old bat. “Oh! look at this, Bea!” Leo exclaimed, “Look what I just found by accident!”

      Leo swiveled the computer screen round so that her friend could see.

      Illi sat up and surveyed her surroundings. The sky was a deep azure blue, the sun was making twinkling stars on the waters of the lagoon, a warm gentle breeze rustled the coconut palm leaves, and birds sang and twittered in the foliage. It was indeed idyllic, and Illi decided to simply enjoy it, while her new ideas formed into a reality.

      Illi was enjoying a new found freedom in her contentment, in not pushing her energy in frustration, and meandered happily around the island taking mental snapshots of a thousand delightful and marvelous wonders, appreciating even the smallest most insignificant things. Time lost all sense of meaning: there were deep velvet indigo skies full of sequins, and there were abstract multicoloured sunrises and sunsets; there were cottonwool clouds in cartoon shapes suspended on a canvas of blue. It mattered not the day or night; there was no longer a sense of time passing, just a glorious collage of appreciation and beauty.”

      Bea read the excerpt reluctantly, and harumphed.

      Oh for Gut’s sake, Bea! Leo was getting exasperated. Try appreciating miscellaneous floundering fog then.

      #991
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Now, Dear Tina Prout (and he said this last bit a bit more firmly, hoping Tina would finally decide to change her name back to her maiden’s name Flove, which was hers before she married that Prout guy who had left her years ago, miserable and forlorn, but not without resources and quite a temperament to boot) You know, this is all about the cycle of transformations, and I’m taking great pleasure in observing the flow of events…

        #947

        Orgetak was fond of taking a crocodile as an animal essence.
        He was coming from a fragmentation of some big names of Essence Land, and he shared many connections with lots of other “essences siblings”. In that moment, he was having fun observing Rafaela… though he was having a weird sense of wanting to merge more thoroughly with her… perhaps that crocodile disguise was cloaking his judgment… He wasn’t too sure.

        He had focused recently, to catch up with one of Rafaela’s own focuses, a rather famous one, whose genetic pool was a magical blend which would be spread in many new enticing physical probabilities. In a haste, despite of no time by which to measure it, he had created himself a past of an Sri Lankan geneticist named Dr. Gayesh Sitharaya, whose interest (or intent) dwelt in exploring the multiplicity of one individual’s aspects…

        :fleuron:

        What’s the catch then?
        What do you mean Al?
        Oh, come on Tinipooh, you know there’s always a catch… Surely Becky mentioned that on the phone…
        Ahaha, are we speaking of the same Becky? :yahoo_rolling_eyes:
        Well, why would that guy help her anyway. And I’m not really sure having another her on the loose is of any help for that matter :yahoo_hypnotized: Sounds more like a world domination plan to me… :yahoo_dontwannasee:
        Well, you know Becky, always blissfully jumping in the stream, even if it’s full of piranhas. It’s good she even thought of giving us a call…
        Yeah, too bad our thought reading techniques seem to get less and less reliable these days…

        #942
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Becky pulled a loose cotton dress out of the suitcase, and scowled at her bikinis. I’ll go for a long hike, she muttered to herself, slipping a pair of strappy mule sandals on her feet. At least my legs aren’t fat! she said, admiring her slim ankles.

          Slamming the door of the hotel bedroom behind her, Becky trotted down the stairs, hesitating momentarily at the dining room, she decided against breakfast, and strode out of the door into the morning sunshine.

          Squinting in the glare of the bright tropical sun, Becky swore under her breath. Forgot my fucking sunglasses, damn! Not wanting to return to the bedroom and see Sean again, Becky strode on.

          She walked and walked, hardly noticing a thing as she grumbled and fretted to herself. She reached the edge of the town and carried on walking; not paying attention to where she was going, she made randon turns to left and right, and eventually the paved roads petered out into dirt paths, and still Becky strode on in her flimsy sandals, squinting with the sun and the sweat that was dripping into her eyes.

          By the middle of the afternoon, Becky was hopelessly lost and close to swooning with hunger and the overpowering heat, but she stumbled on. A sudden sharp pain almost doubled her over, and she stood clutching her stomach. Shit, I should have had breakfast, she swore under her breath, mistaking the pain for a hunger pang.

          Perhaps a trifle unwisely, Becky decided to run, in an attempt to find the nearest house or village in which she could find a morsel to eat. Before long the inevitable happened, and she twisted her ankle on a stone and fell heavily, banging her head and knocking herself blissfully unconscious.

          #941
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Becky and Sean had been honeymooning in Galle , on the southwestern coast of Sri Lanka, for just over a week. It hadn’t been going too well, truth be told, as Becky had become increasingly frustrated at her broadening waistline, and Sean had discovered the joys of cashew fenny liquor.

            You’re not getting fat, Becky, you’re pregnant! slurred Sean, taking anoter swig of fenny.

            Becky scowled at him. Bugger off you drunken twat, she said huffily. Some fucking honeymoon this is! You’re always too drunk to get it up, and I can’t fit into any of my clothes.

            Sean sighed, and staggered out onto the hotel room balcony, clutching his bottle of liquor.

            Oh I can’t stand this! shouted Becky, I’m going out.

            #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:

            #906

            Armelle was aware that everybody would be there in any minute now…
            The one who had come from the wortex wouldn’t hold long in the middle of these huge creatures. He had managed to injure or even kill a few of them, but though he showed no trace of fatigue yet, his body was bruised.

            Ah, she sighed, feeling herself on the brink of doing something stupid. Taking a few deep breaths, she hold them until one could see the beautiful snowy owl starting to inflate like a rubber balloon, her size became twice, or thrice bigger than usual.

            In a few minutes, she was as big as the mythical thunderbirds of the Native myths.

            Taking a look at her waist, she sighed again. Hope I won’t get any stretch marks…

            She then pounced on the heap of fighting bodies, and came back in the airs holding Claude in her talons.

            #905

            — If you have an idea, then tell it quick, said Akita, this place gives me the creeps.
            — Remember how Kay’s having this nice werewolf form in his shape-shifting bag of tricks?
            — Yes, but he cannot really hold it for very long… Wouldn’t be easier if you just teleport us or something?
            — Well, the thing is, yes, that would work for us, but that would take too long to teach you, not to say the parents. We can’t really count on their cooperation for now… and it’s perhaps better that way, because I’m not sure they would really believe they can do it anyway.
            — So the real question is, Kay interrupted, how do we move quickly with two stoned weights?
            — Exactly. My suggestion is that we combine our energies. I must say I’m quite fond of the werewolf outfit, it’s brawny and forces respect, and besides, you and Akita know how to operate it.
            — I think I get your point. So how do we do?
            — Just let Kay merge with you, and I’ll facilitate the anchoring, said Araili.

            Kay started to swirl around Akita in a swoosh of air, while Araili faded into the background to become a force-field around them, getting tighter and tighter, until all three were a ball of light and poofed back in the form of a twelve-feet tall impressive werelynx.

            GRRRREAT, growled Akayli the beast. Let’s move on.

            Baring his claws, he delicately tore off the mummifying silky threads to unwrap the two parents, and taking each of them under the hairy soft grey arms, sprung out of the nest to the forest in quick bounces.

            #904

            The portal has opened, we must hurry said Araili

            Araili had felt something more, that he didn’t want to share yet with Akita and his spirit dog Kay. He had felt that something, or someone was trying to make its way from the wortex. However, the whole area was tightly held in a sort of quarantine by the giant spiders. Their genetic ancestral memory was aware of previous huge bleedthroughs like this one, and they had what humans would call “prophecies” amongst their kin, of such occurrences being heralds of tremendous upheavals.
            Araili, who was extending far beyond this guise of a lynx that he had taken now, smiled when he thought of how some of his earthly medieval focuses would have been similarly frightened by natural events like eclipses.

            It did not take long to them to find Anita’s parents. They were right at the spot that the big arachnid had just left, wrapped in silky spider bandages with little skin left to breathe.

            They seem alive. checked Akita. Heavily sedated, but alive… Now, we’ll have to get them out of here quick.
            I think I have an idea smiled Araili.

            :fleuron:

            Claude had finally came out of what he thought was just a strange tree, but then, his preternatural senses where telling him something was wrong. This place looked different. No, this place felt different.
            And smelt different too.

            There were soft sounds, crawlings he could hear, very near his place. They were coming from him, but he would fight.
            He jumped on a tree, and in a few vigorous movements, was perched on top of it.
            He almost gapped when he saw the black circle of huge spiderly creatures around his tree.

            They were staying at a distance from the wortex. But for how long… He couldn’t wait for his death.

            From the top of the tree, Claude jumped unscathed. Taking a look around, he found exactly what he needed.
            Breaking a few sharp bamboos poles, he started his move to the black circle in a prodigious and accelerated run.

            :fleuron:

            From atop a nearby tree, Armelle was considering the whole scene. The wortex would probably last a few hours, perhaps a bit more. Anita, Rafaela and Yuki were about to be here soon, she had warned them of the spider circle, so that they would hide until she has found them a way to get through.

            She had not expected someone to come out of it. That may be her way…

            :fleuron:

            Phurt was coming closer and closer now. She could feel the surge of power, and the trepidation raising all the hair on her legs. She couldn’t possibly confront all of the sisters. Not yet.
            She had to find a way to get past.

            As if Arachneiax, Goddess of her kind had heard and answered her plea, a dying cry, confusion, and call for help came to her senses from a border of their circle. A perfect diversion…

            #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…

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