Search Results for 'ten'
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Search Results
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In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Home, at last… Bernie Eleonara Mynd, Viscountess of Shropshire sighed, dropping her hairy salmon coloured hermine fur coat to the butler.
— Now, leave me alone Vigor, I don’t want to be disturbed.
— Madam, Vigor bowed deferentiallyA smoking teapot of fine herb tea was prepared on the glass coffee table just near a black silk pouch. With a greedy look on her face, she untied voraciously the pouch to reveal the crystal skull she had just acquired.
After a few seconds of beholding the priceless possession, she lifted the teapot lid with a stiff face which eventually smiled blissfully at the smell of the fine Earl Fuchsia crop which was infusing.Good Lord, that trip was exhausting!… she growled in a very deep voiced that suddenly sounded more male than before.
Didn’t know I had to go as far as Spain to get that darn skull!Bernie suddenly ripped her fine chignon from her head, revealing a bald head with a few short black hair on the top. She spitted her false teeth, peeled off some wrinkled patches of latex skin, smeared the mascara around her globular eyes and scratched her crotch…
A ruffled sound and a “mmm mmm” suddenly caught her attention off the itchy body parts.
She went to the cupboard, drew a key dangling from a necklace deeply buried inside her ample bosom, then stopped for a moment, and muttered a “bugger” before unbuttoning her tight blouse and removing the corset that was constraining her breath.
Smiling wickedly, she proceeded to open the cupboard, but recoiled at a pale tied and muzzled figure who looked much similar to whoever she was impersonating.Oh, Lordy, what a stench! There’s no point in making such a fuss Viscountess, this will soon be over… I just needed a few things, and will soon be off, tonight to be precise…
The pale figure whined with pleading eyes.
Oh, just don’t make these eyes at me…
Bugger! I can’t bother with her now, she said to herself, closing the cupboard’s door oblivious to the plaintiff whines. Now, got to move on real quick, before they realize something was wrong with the transaction.
Juan had insisted that they all spent Christmas together before Paqui and Joselito went for their trip. He felt that there was more to this trip that he could grasp, and wanted to share these precious moments now, not wanting to live on regrets.
Now, the new year was here, and he was alone. At least, he’d been more than glad to see Claudio move out. It had all been a lot easier than he’d thought at first. Obviously, when Paquita had said to that maggot that she was going to accompany Joselito to his trip on the whachaname-Kikkoo Island, Claudio had been outraged, probably thinking a good playing victim act would soon make things right for him.
But he’d been wrong altogether. It was not about love for him or the other. It was all about freedom and being what she wanted. And emotional blackmail very quickly proved besides the point.
His father had been proud at Paquita. Her decision obviously was made, and it had been the first time he had seen the frail girl unwavering at the arguments.The situation had soon proved unbearable for Claudio, who had no longer any reason for hanging around Juan and Paqui’s house, and one day he’d moved out, rather discreetly, not to be heard again. Somehow, Juan was aware of the town’s gossips, that he had acquired some unexpected sum of money, not sure if all very legally, but the thing was that he had decided to take his chances by going some said to Nicaragua, others to Brazil or even to the US…
But who really cared? On his plane for Valparaiso, Claudio was looking at the letter he’d found in the family trunk. It was a brief correspondence between his grand-father and a certain Cillian Mc Gaughran, and it was linked to the skull he had sold such a handsome price. Perhaps he could get more information about them, if the recluse old man was still alive, that is…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Felicity, or the “Bridal Goddess” as she called herself, was most encouraging when Becky said she was after something “a bit different” for her wedding day. Weddings had been having a resurgence of popularity in the last few years, obviously it was not the solid institution it was decades ago, but many people still liked to exchange intentions for their relationship. Most regarded marriage fondly as a rather quaint institution from the past.
I will help you create your dream wedding! Felicity gushed enthusiastically. Most important is that you wear something you absolutely adore and that looks simply stunning on you for your special day. What sort of look did you have in mind?
oh, um tribal actually, said Becky, vaguely, suddenly remembering she hadn’t mentioned her plans to Sean. He could be a tad on the conservative side at times . In fact, come to think of it, had she even mentioned to him that they were getting married?
Fantastic! Demure tribal? Revealing tribal? I do all sorts of tribals, whatever you want!
Hmmm said Becky reflectively, well probably not demure.
No agreed Tina, not demure.
A few hours later Becky and Tina were recovering from the ordeal, as Tina called it dramatically, over a cup of organic trim alpaca’s milk expresso Lucciato
Hey what’s this about a soup party? asked Tina. I couldn’t get much sense out of Sam, but he says you are helping with it.
Yeah it’s going to be great!
Well, just so long as you aren’t doing the catering, it should be great, thought Tina, shuddering at the memory of stuffed Nasturtium Blossoms and Locust Bisque Becky had served at their last get-together. Not forgetting the garlic icecream for dessert.
I heard that! It was healthy Tina! retorted Becky defensively.
Bugger telepathy sighed Tina
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Vincentius, usually of cheerful disposition, had been in a silent and pensive mood all day. Later that evening, while Yikesy slept, Arona gently asked him if he was okay. He sighed.
Do you realise it is Yuletide, Arona? he asked.
Arona did not pay much attention to the passing of time. It was a rather like her map. She did not quite see the point of having a map when she did not know where she was going. Likewise, what was the point of keeping track of time? When one did not know where one was going, it was clearly not necessary to be anywhere at any particular point in time.
So she grunted non-committedly in response.
Is that a special time for you? she prompted eventually, when Vincentius once again lapsed into a gloomy and silent reverie.
He sighed. Do you mind if I tell you a story, Arona? he asked. It is rather long.
I would love that, she replied, meaning it sincerely.
In reply to: Synchronicity
oh yes that seems interesting… there is a strong potential… and many things we don’t use in this site too
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
Pain interesting ….
dark quickly, game change, lost obviously, bring bandages,weird weather.
Whatever …
Franiel wondering … yellow color …. raft named random truth? Try move nothing. Perhaps heart speak sometimes quiet. Thinking energy….remember herself moments, process inside light, past help outside …. wait, familiar wall happening … floating mind sea movement.
Yurick noticed …. told mummy story, attention Bronkelhampton.
Joe tell sheriff spiders answer, bugger party!
Cold worry gone …. laughing. Dear bright cave, already connected.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
From Georges and Salome’s diary
I woke up from my mediation, having seen those whom Georges refers to as “Guardians”. They looked deeply troubled. Apparently, they possess some kind of power that each of them share to an extent, at least the Eldest of them (or Jokans). With that power, they can travel in time and space and undo what another of them could have planted at some point in the canvas of their material reality.
It thus appears of extreme importance that their decisions are reached with unanimity, as they have come to experience. My own presumptions tell me of a time not so far from this now where they were more numerous, but that the competition may have quickly decimated —exhausted, most certainly— those who did not align with the more powerfully expressed movement. Or perhaps they simply parted in different probable versions of this World, which is an eventuality equally as presumable.
In any case, they were distraught over one in their ranks apparently doubting the decision they had just taken. They all knew of the consequence of one of them disagreeing, and it could nullify their efforts. It was thus of great importance that they come to understand, as much for the group as for the individual the source of his anguish. It seems some big changes are being planned…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
It’d been two hexades that the Abbot Hrih Chokyam Lin’potshee had been laying in bed in poor condition.
At first, he had wanted to be as strong as he had always been towards hardships, but he’d finally admitted that quelching the pain wasn’t doing any good to him. So he had agreed to be taken care of by a young monk, and to lay in bed as long as was necessary.
He knew that he was very likely not to get out of that bed but with his body covered by a white sheet, nevertheless, the thought was still something distant. The pain in his body was making him so present to himself that the only thing that was still blatant was that he was.
More than the body, it was all his faith that was shaken. He had thought he would leave this life without mess, without pain, probably very discreetly in his sleep… But now, his head was wincing at every noise, even the nature’s sounds that once felt like music to his ears, he was eschewing them now as much as he could. His very skin was hot and couldn’t bear even the soft contact of the bedsheets.
What was the point of all of this? He had never doubted that everything had its purpose, but now, he was doubting…
He was even trying to find some reasonable reasons for what was happening, he who never trusted in reasonable reasons in the first place. Perhaps that was because of his seating under the chilly air and the warm sun in front of the Meditation Wall, reading for all of the poems that had been written by the monks who had dared to write. Perhaps he had “taken cold”, whatever that means…
“Perhaps not” the voice kept saying softly in his head.Now, his whole succession was feeling like a moot point. After all, he was not even capable of saving himself from anything, then how could what he created make the slightest difference? These were all like an extension of his body, bound to decay and come back to Earths.
Not so many monks had dared write upon the Wall about their highest truth. A few jokesters had begun at first, helping the others to participate.
One in particular had had Hrih laugh for quite a while.A toad is a toad
Unless kissed
Endless BlissThen a dozen of others had flourished upon the wall, until Aum Geong decided to write his own. He’d not wanted to go first, to allow the others to express without the burden of comparison, and also to have some more time to write something deep and thoughtful. But that profusion of nonsense between some occasional pearls of wisdom made him write his own.
Unattainable is the Truth
For in the Dust of things
All in our View is bleakDoing Wrong we forswear
For Dust to be lifted
And Wisdom we seekIn the deed of the Elders
And the Faith in the Community
Light and Trust bespeakAll the monks had been quite impressed, but Hrih had not been entirely satisfied by it… To be honest, he even completely disagreed with it.
Now, however, stuck in this bed, the poem was playing in his head and suggesting that the Worlds were something terrible that he had not yet understood, or be willing to avoid seeing. Perhaps Aum Geong was wiser than he was.
Perhaps all that Hrih had put as foundational to his life had all been Dust…
“There is no Dust, and you know that” the voice whispered softly.Now that he is about to die, what difference will it make anyway…
He reach out for a bowl of water, and almost let it fall, as the weight of it surprised him. He was becoming so weak… He never had been so self-conscious in many many many years.After he had propped himself up to drink a few burning swallows of the lukewarm water, he noticed something folded on his bedside, that had been put under the bowl… Young Franiel had been the one attending him with Jog Lam, so it must have been the doing of one of them. He intuited that was Franiel.
As he read the stanzas, tears were in his eyes…
I am the driftwood
the wave carried me
I was buried in sandI am the flower
the butterfly touched me
I fell in loveI am the raindrop
the cloud released me
I became the oceanThe Young monk had probably not dared write it on the Wall, especially after most of the monks’ vocal appreciations of Aum Geong’s poem…
“Perhaps not” the voice again spoke.
Another reason for it formed into Hrih’s mind. Franiel perhaps didn’t feel ready for such responsibilities and his role and fulfillment in this community was not form rules nor to continue it.
It was more to inspire them, and perhaps to start his own discoveries.Hrih wrote a note behind the paper. He wanted to leave something for Franiel, for him to keep faith in his coming adventures during these coming times of change.
After a deep breath, he took another paper that was with him for already such a long time, wrote down some words, and signed it, the aura of his hand burning a glyph that was his signature in the paper. He then called for Jog Lam.— Jog Lam, my friend…
— Elder?
— I’m dying…
— I know Elder
— Let me continue. (Jog Lam nodded)
First, will you give that paper to Young Franiel after the cremation ceremonies. (Jog Lam nodded again)
Second, I want you to relay that I have made my decision, and that Aum Geog will succeed me (Jog Lam’s surprise was noticeable in his eye). He is, to date, the most adequate successor for this monastery.
— I will do as you want.
— Thank you my friend.
— Elder…
— Farewell, my friend, I am always with you.When Jog Lam stoically left the room, Hrih Chokyam laid down, his eyes on the ceiling. His body was so weak that all he could do was to project behind his closed eyelids and see the starry sky, even if he would have wanted something different for his death. He would have loved something like a nap in a sunlit meadow with a little singing brook.
But seeing the actual World was something even more precious to him. The barren mountains of the icy season, the clear unclouded sky. His mind was so full of energy that his body lacked.With a deep feeling of gratitude for his body, he bid it farewell.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
I can feel a human focus on this Island said the aspect of Yuki that was focused near Anita.
The little girl was sleeping for the moment and her dream focus, though still close to them, was not paying attention to her friends. She was entertaining herself with the dream focuses of her parents, telling them about all that she had been doing with her friends. They themselves were not yet choosing to disengage in this particular probable reality but they were in a kind of transition “place”, removed from their bodies for a lengthy time framework. They had built a similar environment to their home and were acting “as usual”.
It is a focus of Blöhmul that is not yet aware of our presence here though an aspect of this focus is… I feel it is not a singular focus in a way that is quite original
Rafaela and Armelle were merged consistently at that time and were creating a strange owly goat or a goaty owl depending on the angle of aspect you were looking at or from.
Yes it is quite a messy focus, it is generating of new ways of explorations… I’m exploring it from now on said the goaty owl / owly goat.
The energy was moving and creating new connections. That focus and Anita were already connecting to each other, a strong thread of energy had been attracting them to each other… The four essences began to move in a facilitating of this attraction, merging together in a marmoset, close to the “binary” focus… Surely the dog like aspect of this focus would be intrigued by the marmoset and would want to follow it… to the little Anita.
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
Arona perfect focus mind
growing process, gone self within.
Dragon seen truth
apparently far understood magic body
Finn beautiful, morning asked space, eyes, world seemed inside
air feel energies close
link familiar?
forgotten already years mean face
Twilight singing, soon change flowing
Perhaps girl read star
turned to sleep, ask energy dreamsIn reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Yann stroke Arona, lost in his thoughts. He’d spent the last few days with Yurick at Gustav’s place. He’d met Gustav a few days ago, when Yurick came to Paris with him. Gustav was a very sympathetic and fun fellow, his energy felt very soft to Yann and quite sensitive though he could appear a bit rough to others. Gustav was kind enough to let Yann sleep one night at his house when he was still there, before his holidays with his parents before Christmas and friends after Christmas. It was the occasion to eventually be with Yurick.
The life together was a bit different from what he would have normally expected… before. Now it was just a new experience, the interaction was different, and the configuration of energy could be a bit tricky.
Yann had noticed that in his perception even if an aspect of his attention was focused on the physical place and that he was physically seeing other individuals and objects in the official room, his main attention was elsewhere… he was beginning to be able to let more of this periphery to bleedthrough in his official reality, and he was well aware that the interactions weren’t always what they appeared to be. He first had the reflex to filter it through his usual associations and what he knew of this reality… but often enough he had that twinge about it like it wasn’t really fitting… it wasn’t fitting at all, he was trying to mold it into another shape, a familiar and distorted shape, so to speak. Ok, that was acceptable, and most of the time his attention and his movement was toward Yurick’s energy.
Yurick was creating some weird stuffs in with his mouth… some itching and uncomfortable pain… it was a bit weird because of the familiar associations with it… associations with pain, illness, preoccupations, caring, even self worth… but most of all it was showing Yann about the automatic movement “outside” of self, and not being present in what himself was doing.
Yann had noticed that most of the time when he was in what he was doing there was that warm expansion feeling in his belly… but still there was that location association with it… and the association that Yurick was outside and the room was outside and then at times it was fading and there was not much separation within energy.
And he just noticed that no separation didn’t necessarily mean continuity
Ok, again this Owl music of the Harry Potter series… the “scum of the universe” connection was a bit hidden by this music now, but it was still in his periphery. And something he wanted to explore. A feeling of space travel and of mercenaries… that reminded him of the video games he was playing when he was a kid. There was always a time when he was fascinated by the “bad guys”, the pirates. Haha, maybe a pie rat would do as a dessert.
He would soon come back “home”. He had that DVD of the pilots of a series about space travels that he liked a lot… Yurick had told him about it 2 days ago, he had never seen it.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Sam was feeling like a human being shaped balloon… not in rubber, but more in some waterproof material… with holes in his hands and his feet…
It was like him as essence was blowing the air into the puppet to give it more or less consistency, more or less presence.
At times his action would not be on the blowing into the bodily structure but on the looking of its canvas, its blueprint… the puppet would appear slack or flabby.
At times his action would be the blowing into the structure, and how he would insufflate the air into the structure, how he would direct it through the canvas would create different actions, different movements of this energy pattern, some wavy, some more rigid, and some pulsing.He currently felt he was trying to block the air from coming out of the puppet clothing… blocking the flow of the attention, of the energy into something absolute… he felt he was doing that to understand what he could create in doing it. It was not a continuous action and not something he wanted to make last much longer. Only the understanding of the movement of the air through his body was interesting him.
He just breathed in and out and decided to do something different. He had what he wanted of it now.
There was a click in his right ear, and he could feel his attention and his energy movement beginning to shift.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Albert the mosquito was playing with a gigantic creature to the hide and seek game.
He was quite a daredevil mosquito and had managed to survive for several days in the same space arrangement.He was close to the fulfillment of his intent and ready to move to other areas, but still in this reality… maybe he would choose some other species as he was incorporating some Praying Mantis aspects for a few days now.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
I wonder how delightful it may feel to become one with that butterfly, mused Franiel, his attention diverted from the job at hand as he followed the dance of a delicate white butterfly. He closed his eyes for a moment and merged with the creature, how free ! He sighed, trying somewhat reluctantly to pull himself back. Franiel had been sat there for quite some time now, supposedly engaged in the task of writing a short poem of 3 stanzas for Hrih, the Old One.
Of course there was no pressure. Yet in his desire to please, Franiel felt it as such. In his dreams of the previous night Hrih had visited him. He had offered Franiel a golden crown, a silver goblet filled with sweet nectar, and a jewelled sword. Choose! commanded Hrih. Franiel had chosen the goblet and drank thirstily from it, and yet he had felt that Hrih was not pleased with his choice, and upon wakening Franiel had felt a strange uneasiness.
Franiel had not been trained in the way of the pen, and he knew his words would be clumsy. He had been raised in a poor home, where words were not considered to be of much value other than to instruct him in his tasks, or berate him when those tasks were not completed. Being a dreamy child, this had often been the case.
He wished he could harness the power of words and use them to soothe and caress, to create beauty even, he thought, gently running his finger over the plain wooden table where he was seated.
Well for now he would not worry what form his words should take, for it was enough of a task even to know what his highest truth might be!
My highest truth .. my highest truth, … how many times now had he said these words, hoping perhaps if he repeated them enough the gods might take pity on his for his ignorance and provide an answer. How could he possibly know his highest truth? The very concept of such a thing perplexed him.
Day was turning into night before Franiel finally laid down his pen. In the end his words were simple. He sighed, saddened by the thought that they would surely be a disappointment. The best I can hope for is that the Old One will see these words as nothing more than a doorway to my soul. Hrih was wise, Franiel knew this, and trusted the decision of the Old One.
It was in the hands of the gods, for surely if I can’t trust this at least, all my fine talk and learning is for nothing.
I am the driftwood
the wave carried me
I was buried in sandI am the flower
the butterfly touched me
I fell in loveI am the raindrop
the cloud released me
I became the oceanIn reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
Becky caught SIGHT OF THE MOON AND liked THE WHITE light. SHE FOUND herself SITTING quietLY, BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF DEAD GUY sessionS IN THE white OF THE SILVERY MOON. I WILL remember THIS! OF ALL THE tripS, A MOMENT OF MOONLIGHT apparently WAS KEY. SHE knew HER random ROAMING years WERE HERE FOR MANY A year TO COME. THE NIGHT air AND THE MAGIC moon IS KEY. SHE wondered WHY SHE DIDN’T HAVE THE sense TO NOTICE THE moments MORE OFTEN.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The dance was very intense and though he wasn’t exhausted. He could keep on doing that forever it seemed.
Georges-Irtak ware dancing-moving swiftly and with such grace and skill in the manipulation of the body consciousness. Irtak alone wouldn’t have thought some movements he was doing were possible for a human being. His bodies seemed so elastic and so changeable.
His attention was so entranced by him-Georges that he couldn’t really feel what he was doing. He was open to himself and he was allowing the other part of himself to move his body and he was feeling in the body of him-Georges also. All that could have been so weird and overwhelming… but his previous practice with his dragon twins had been very useful. He was aware of the intense concentration of energy involved in Georges and the connections, deep and loving, with Salome were so bright and colorful.
He-Georges turned their attention to Salome and send her deep waves of love and fun. She was his lover of many focuses and of many probabilities. Whatever that could mean.
Heckle and Jeckle were suddenly turning around them and generating a mini-tornado of emerald and pink energy. This was facilitating their movements and their expansion to other dimensions.. he was feeling the veil between them thining so much… a side-step move and he would be…
Stop!
The energy feeling made him return in his body all at once. He was still aware of his dragons but his fantastic awareness was like a dim memory. How was he doing that before… This Georges seemed just familiar now, not mingle with him, though…
You wouldn’t do that now Irtak, it’s too early
Georges was smiling slyly. His amber eyes were quite hypnotic but Irtak was feeling centered now and focused in this now.
You’ll learn all that in time… but for now let’s have some cheesy cakes
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Georges and Salome’s journal
From Georges’ account of their first journey to the Alienor star system
It’s our first attempt to use the Jorid to move through dimensions. Well the trip was worth it. I enjoyed it tremendously. I felt so elastic and inside-outed…
We had already gone through the Jorid to distant locations of our own dimension, but it’s slightly different. The adjustments of the encoding part of the physical manifestation is but one part of it.Our joint focus had led us to a particularly interesting dimension. I know I have already many focuses in it as Salome has too. Maybe it was what created the draw to this dimension. We just didn’t choose to focus at the same time and space… it was our choice. We are so strongly connected that it is not important. We can reach each other awarenesses at will and communicate so fully at any moment.
It seemed to me that I already had a comprehension of the structure of this dimension. I’m not aware yet of when or how I did that but I understood that Salome wanted to take time, though time is not really relevant to describe the process of assimilation she was undergoing.I felt drawn to the Duane. I was feeling some strong resonance in the vibrations of the people of this “planet”, but it was not really a planet like our planet Earth in our dimension. I still don’t understand fully how it is created, but the shape is quite flexible, so to speak. I had chosen to manifest different qualities, relevant to my current exploration which could be translated as physical strength and sharp intellect, and a strong persuasive energy.
Physically focused I could feel Salome in the RA2 of this dimension where a part of my attention was continuously focused. She already had made contact with different beings of the Duane in their dreams, preparing my coming so to speak
but her main focus of attention was directed to the Murtuane where I had hidden a few surprises for her. I’m sure she will appreciate the attention 
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Georges and Salome’s journal
From Salome’s account of their first journey to the Alienor star system
I had more insights about the Murtuane and its biosphere. The race of green-skinned people seem to foster some deeply religious feelings. Not religious as in our age old beliefs on Earth, nothing of that sort. It’s more “religious” in the sense of caring for life, and the sacredness of it.
It seems they are so attuned to their feelings that they can feel in each other’s waves of moods, so that it becomes very difficult for them to entertain such violence that we have been enacting for so long on Earth.
It is like they form some kind of invisible bond, and can feel each other through the belonging of some kind of unseen social memory complex. I think they call each others Children of Turmak, or somewhat close.There are other forms of lives present here, many underwater, and I can feel some ties between the Nirguals (those huge eagle-like winged beings) and what we, on Earth, remember as “dragons”. It is as though they are different forms of the same energetic blueprints, or species… In evolutionary terms, it would be tantamount to say that they share a common ancestor, but I know it is none of that either.
The Nirguals (let us call them like that for the time being) are indigenous to this planetoid of Murtuane, but they somewhat seem to have seeded some of them on the Duane, the dual or sister planet — though this is my loose interpretation… But even though it reminds me of a cuckoo being forgetful of its eggs in another nest, this strikes me as an evidence of some kind of awareness of each other, by each of the planets sentients. And also of an evidence of a kind of travel route between the two, though discontinuous if not vagarious, and probably uni-directional as per now, as nothing tends to corroborate a continuous interaction.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
He was falling. At least that was his impression. Not floating, maybe because he’d expulsed all the air in his lungs.
He was feeling his attention fade out, like it was flying away from his body… or swimming away in that watery environment.It wasn’t cold. Maybe because he’d lost his sense of touch. Maybe his body was too numb for him to feel anything… Did he think about breathing? He didn’t remember how to tell his body to do it.
He was feeling good. He would think of breathing later if he remembered how to think.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Aglaë had been reluctantly coming back to the games of her sisters, when Thalÿs, the eldest had come back from her trip.
She’d had trouble with one of her dolphins who had fallen ill, and had been seeking advice from one of the healers in another distant underwater city.Eufrosÿn, her other sister was listening to her account, and was amazed at the similarities between her sister’s depiction and her own recent dream imageries. But Aglaë, who was usually very fond of such bizarre coincidences, barely did more than a few silent nods.
Her mind was halfway here, and halfway there, with the mysterious life she had felt on the surface…
She wanted to come back, and a sudden impulse made her leave her sisters without an explanation and rush to her spot of observation.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Georges and Salome’s journal
From Salome’s account of their first journey to the Alienor star system
The Jorid has spotted what will be the destination for our first joined adventure.
It’s a dimension which seems unexplored yet, and rather fascinating. Georges, as he is, would already have jumped right in, but I preferred to get a little more background information before moving into it. It’s still a little awkward to move into these realms where the laws of physics as we’ve known them are different, sometimes dramatically so. These would not be too much of a difficulty as the adaptation of the physical body usually goes quite fast, as Georges has shown me when we trained in more familiar dimensions, but the most delicate part is when we barely know the relationships at play.
Georges will laugh because he’s more confident that everything is perfect, but somehow, I tend to believe that things can be a little more perfect when we know how to avoid making faux-pas.
So we’ve spent a few days gathering some basic informations on this dimension we call Alienor. The most part of the activity seems to revolve around a cluster of planetoids. At this moment, it’s forming a system of three planets revolving on the same orbit around their sun. We call them Duane, Murtuane, and Phrëal.
They seem to form a complex web of relationships, and cover such a wide range of aspects that we have decided on a mutual agreement to split our exploration to cover more ground for a beginning.
Georges is exploring the Duane, and I took the Murtuane, both planetoids seeming to come from the same core of matter, in a manner of speaking. The feeling around the Phrëal is more ambivalent, as though it is undergoing some deep change, not unlike to the Shift that will be (or has been) occurring on our Earth. So, we’ve decided not to interfere with it right now. It may take a dozen of years (as we understand them) for them to undergo that process, but it’s not like we care of time issues in any case.Here are my first observations concerning the Murtuane. Obviously, it ties into the Duane, but I am not completely aware of all of these ties yet.
The first connection I had to the Murtuane was with some ancient beings living here. I saw myself riding one of these sentient beings, gliding through the sky in a mountainous land. The colours are vivid, even if the atmosphere seems very light, and filtering the sun’s ray in a spectrum slightly more indigo than our sky on Earth. These beings, whose name I can’t yet translate accurately (it’s something close to Nirgual) are powerful winged focuses of essence, though I suspect this to be a mere convenient form that they use. They somewhat remind me of the Rokhs (or Rocs) that the sultan’s wifes were telling us about in their legends. Apparently, they are respected, perhaps feared by the people inhabiting the lands, though I can feel they are for the most part benevolent.
These people, those that I could spot, seem to have a slightly green skin, but overall humanoid form (within my translation of them).I will probably have more to connections once we gather our impressions with Georges.
