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  • #394
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Becky had to admit she was impressed with Tina’s latest addition to the Reality Drama Play. Inserting a ripplingly virile and handsome nanny was a stroke of genius, and was a concept that she, Becky, would bear in mind, should she ever decide to have children herself.

      Seeing Sean again, if truth be told, had made her slightly broody. Yes, he was often slurring his words, but he had such an endearing twinkle in his eye, and he was so charmingly affectionate that she found him hard to resist. Becky recalled their passionate affair in the Middle East and the Sahara :weather-clear:…there hadn’t been any drinking in those days…well, Becky corrected herself, other than the occasional pot of herbal tea of questionable ingredients. :yahoo_coffee: Oh, those passionate nights inside the steamy tent, with the desert winds howling around them! Clandestine meetings, when Sean’s wife Margaret was too absorbed in her botanical experiments :yahoo_good_luck: to notice his absence…..

      Well, Margaret’s dead now, :yahoo_skull: Becky reminded herself, and there was no-one standing between her and Sean now…..:yahoo_heehee:

      #373
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        Tina had been wondering if she wanted a child , and was considering the personal and ethical implications of this. There had been much discussion in the Reality Times recently of placing restrictions on the number of children couples could have, in order to counteract the growing population problem. This had been discussed many times over the past years, however the issues involved were becoming more pressing. People may be required to apply, and undergo suitability testing, if they wished to be parents. Areas such as any past criminal history, alcohol dependency issues, etc, may automatically exclude one from eligibility for parenthood. This was being hotly debated again, with many feeling it was violation of their personal freedom.

        She asked Becky what she thought. Becky was looking in the mirror and pulling faces.

        Oh doesn’t worry me. Yikes! I don’t want any horrid little rugrats anyway. Give me dogs any day. Do you like my new haircut Tina?

        #359

        New Venice, year 2101

        In the waiting hall, Bart was pacing the floor recklessly. They were having their first baby, but the doctors had hushed him out, because there were some complications…
        All he could do was wait.
        They were one of the first couple to have tested the new program that allowed same-sex couples to procreate without requiring the assistance of a third-party so to speak. In fact, it had been hypothesized to be possible a long time ago already. Well, theoretically… because the most challenging part had been to bring acceptance to the people, as the old beliefs were still alive in a few moribund activist groups. But what,… nature was doing even more exotic things in the realm of creatures…

        Now he was thinking of Oscar, who had chosen to be the bearer of the child —a girl that would be… will be, mentally corrected Bart to himself. Funny thing about genetics was that male-male couples could have either girls or boys, but female-female couples could only have girls. Only because the male “Y” chromosome was carried by men.
        It had been a painstakingly long subject of discussion among scientists and philosophers as to the unbalance it would create, but well, for the time being, it was the chosen design for our human natures.
        As long as new ways of bypassing this restriction had not been invented, better enjoy it than stretching one’s mind around it.

        Looking at the window which showed the stilted structures above the waters, Bart was thinking how it was all an incredible story… What were the probabilities for that to happen?
        Bart couldn’t help but feel grateful for all of his blessings.

        At the same moment, the big breasted nurse appeared at the door crying with a large smile “it’s a healthy girl!”
        Bart burst into the room.

        :fleuron:

        They had already decided how she would be called. Midora, they had agreed.

        When he entered, Oscar Wrick’s young face was tired and sprinkled with beads of perspiration, but he had the happiest look on his face. He was still feeling a bit self-conscious about the changes the pregnancy had generated in his body, but for now he was all absorbed by the little breathing thing resting in his arms.

        After a warm embrace, Bartholomew Jobsworth thought that he should spread the good news to the family, at least to his mother, dear sparkling Indy and Bart’s parents, Eugenia and Cuthbert. He also had felt the presence of his Dad, Bill, during his wait and was deeply thankful for all of their support.

        #348

        The Assassin was already in the room when Baul came in… Baul wasn’t sure if he would have prefered him not to be here so he could himself gather his mind. But he was well used to camouflage his feelings and inner struggle and his face was quite smiling, as usual.

        Looking at the Assassin’s face, Baul was feeling very uncomfortable, he almost winced… the bluish glow of the dagger tatoo on the forehead of the man was quite disgusting. Baul kept smiling though, he wouldn’t dare show his own weakness to anyone, especially an Assassin. His eyes were piercing his soul, if Baul had believed in such thing he would have run away, but he didn’t believe in anything except himself and the power of money.

        As the Assassin was never talking first, Baul presented his offer putting the object he had brought on the table.

        — Open the chest. You’ll find your paiement inside.

        :fleuron:

        Ar’Am Khra was waiting, still gazing sharply at Baul, making him feel even more uncomfortable.
        The Assassin was quite impressed with how the man Baul could master his own reactions, and though he was quite intrigued by what his client had brought, he wanted to play for a few moments. With a very slight movement of his eyebrows, so slight one wouldn’t have notice, he managed to add an irritation in his look. He saw the movement of fear in his client’s face, but still it was so subtle he could have imagined it.

        :fleuron:

        Baul pushed the chest toward the Assassin, a bit nervous, but he could …. a sudden thought came to his mind, wandering like a Strokgnutch in a henhouse. He swallowed imperceptibly… Had someone already put a contract on his head? He managed a smile as he was opening the chest for the Assassin.

        :fleuron:

        This Baul was quite impressive. Ar’Am Khra had known what he was thinking as though he could read his mind.

        He lowered his eyes to look at what was in the chest. He really desired being surprised by his clients, and this one had never failed to surprise him…

        :yahoo_alien:

        Once again…

        :fleuron:

        Baul was surprised as the Assassin wasn’t showing any hint of the slightest emotion at all… Would he show anything else than disdain even once!?

        :fleuron:

        — A glubolín :yahoo_alien:

        #85
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Eric! Your latest comment resembles more than a little the episode of Lost I saw on tv last night. I take it you didn’t watch it too haha…..
          In a nutshell, an exhausted bird on the shore next to the sea that had separated from the other birds (which were scared off by a loud gunshot nearby)…..the guy intuitively knew exactly where to go to find it (he can see future probabilities, incidentally) and he picked the bird up…the point of which was to tie a message to the tagged bird in the hopes of being rescued off the desert island (which is not unlike the one Roselyn Chiara and Illi are ‘currently’ on….)…
          In other words, a ‘talking’ bird….
          OH and the bird in Lost was ‘from other lands’ too, a tagged migrating bird….

          #1446
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Oh is there? :face-surprise:

            Anyway, not to sound too bossy, but perhaps you want to ask about the latest instalments…
            Finn is a cool name they say:

            Means “fair” or “white” in Gaelic. Fionn mac Cumhail was a legendary Irish hero who became all-wise by eating an enchanted salmon. He fought against the giant Fomors with his son Oisin and grandson Oscar.

            Cool :yahoo_cool:

            #1443
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Just testing F, so does that mean you couldn’t see it? Oh I see, my secret comment has a yellow band and Eric’s secret comment has a pink band…..of course, I am so trusting I haven’t changed my password, so if anyone was Agatha Christie :yahoo_peace_sign: enough they could check my (unsecret) secret whispers…… :yahoo_whistling:

              #83
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Where the Janitor may assist you in navigating into the things available in your reality.
                (a help-thread in short)

                Note: the Janitor declines any responsibility for any loss or any Patel “pop-in” that may mess up with your reality.

                Textile format help
                or here
                to test your formatting

                #82
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  This discussion could receive all your impressions and discussions about the latest developments in the story.
                  Could be ranging from synchronicities to idle chat. Have fun! :face-grin:

                  You can also make use of the “whisper” feature, which will make the comment viewable only by the name selected in the whisper box.

                  #1308

                  In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    September 24 th

                    Quintin remembered a snapshot of the notes that Dory had taken during her first trip to the Madagascan caves, a year ago.

                    Relevant extracts:

                    At one moment, I saw some hooded figure in the sideways tunnels… He vanished on the left, couldn’t follow him…
                    […] HE KNEW HIS WAY INSIDE !
                    When he vanished, I had the vision of something, […] like the layout of a labyrinth, of cave tunnels — that are all underground and the many entrances are all over the world… PORTALS
                    focus opening/doors ; time/space…
                    The central cavernous part is some kind of key center, where anyone can meet…

                    This has inspired Quintin to write some notes too.
                    He has the vision of these portals organized as clusters, like a tree, with branches and leaves… I will send him a more detailed image, but that may take him some time to digest!

                    September 26 th

                    The latest additions to the story have inspired Quintin. He had some inkling of how “essence” (or what is somewhat referred as “oversoul” ) and all the “focus” of essence (or lifetimes) interplay, and are not as separate as they sometimes seem to be.

                    Here would be what we will say to him, if he wants to listen:

                    « Now, terminology can become tricky as, for much time, you have been accustomed to be considering of your experience as the projection of that of an “essence”, somewhat separate from you, the lowly focus.
                    Of course, you pretend the contrary, and become quite nifty in brandishing sentences like “I am essence, and I create all of my reality”, which you are and do actually, but that you do not always believe and trust.
                    These terms of “essence” and “focus” were given to you as means for you to better understand the interplay of consciousness. In the beginning of the acquaintance with these new terminologies, you have felt them remotely blurry and unrelated to previous concepts, which was the intention. But now, you once again objectify your understanding in something too rigid at times, and that little story is giving you a hint of what your real power is.
                    And you begin to really experience it, and really pay attention.

                    « As was expressed many times, “essence” is no thing. It is an action.
                    The “essence” is each of you, that very portion of you that you feel when you slide your attention into the comment box.
                    In that, your purpose, you see, is only to experience, nothing more, nothing less.
                    And then time, as you know it, becomes irrelevant, you see. Your natural time is expressed through you and your explorations.
                    Notice how playfully, as essence (essence playing focus or focus playing essence), you let your natural time unfold, and at times find some strange weather pattern in your awareness that needs clarification. As essence, you playfully find the most perfect habits [shapes and clothings] to wrap around you, and continue your story.
                    Just as your dreams at night overlap and blend into each other.
                    Just as Rafaela created new focuses [Sam and Becky] to continue to play and make the story expand for all of the other focuses, Dory included.

                    « That “I” of you is ever present, and is reflected perfectly in others’ perceptions, as you are drawing them to you purposefully. Do not brush aside their adjuncts, for they are also you, having moved your pawns forward, so to speak, through their moves.

                    « Thus understand that the story is a continuous stream reflecting the essence that is you, and your travel through the various guises you borrow.
                    In that manner, it does not matter how much sense it makes in linear terms. Because, in a way, it can’t make sense in these linear terms.

                    « Let us explain this in other terms.
                    When you found difficulties in understanding the “scheme” so to speak, the figure that is drawn by the participants, it is because you apply the linear understanding of what such a scheme should be.
                    In that, you only perceive the “plot” as a succession of dots without a continuity, whereas the continuity is to be found in the other stories interwoven.
                    You are accustomed to stories where a single individual is enacting throughout the play, in a linear continuous fashion. The individual goes through many different actions, but is always the same in your perception.
                    Here, the tricky thing is to notice the continuity throughout the various habits [clothings] taken by the essence(s). It matters not that the essence takes that guise of say, a pirate sailing on high seas, just after having been an old crafty Lord in his windy castle. The underlying aspects of his exploration has been continuous and coherent: in this case, exploring and making sense of one’s exploration. It is just that a certain appearance has been perhaps more fitting to express certain aspects or qualities of essence, but the exploration has been one, throughout the entirety of the experience.

                    « We will let you ponder this, and we will continue our own story, writing about you… »

                    September 28 th

                    This sand symbol that Quintin has brought up seemed to have come from many directions at once. Each character has connected it, in various ways.
                    Armelle (Arona) to her magic, Rafaela (Becky) to her collecting customs, etc. etc.

                    Let us say that this symbol is not as innocent as it may seem. There are lots of associations with sand.
                    It is solid, yet fluid. In association with water, it can be used to build, and also to erode. It can shift into many forms, one of which is your glass, and your electronic components.
                    And most of all, it is, after your very oxygen, the most abundant constituent of your reality.
                    It is almost limitless in your understanding.
                    As is your magic.

                    This magical device we made Quintin see in a visualization is an analogy of your very action of creation as essences.
                    The sand which molds itself to make forms and shapes in three dimensions is in fact likened to your consciousness. Each grain of sand represents your links of consciousness that bind together to do your command.
                    The shapes are moved by your essences, in which you may see that the essence is no thing at all, but is a continuous stream of action, not separate from others’.

                    As Quintin said to Fiona, some individuals do differently when they create and shape their sands.
                    In analogy with the coloured sands, some people like Quintin enjoy using other people’s colours in shaping his own characters, while some others prefer to keep their own colours, to create a more definite sense of individuality. But they integrate the others’ movements and shapes nonetheless, regardless of how much they perceive it to be coming from them.

                    With that said, let us see how much more will appear from that sandbox…

                    September 30 th

                    The Wrick family tree as it is now (or “will be” drawn around the time of the twins in 2057).

                    The Secret Life of Margaret Wrick , a newspaper cut from 2033.

                    October 7 th

                    The dragon Naasir’s dream
                    A panorama illustrating the portals between the worlds created by each of the participants… But who is dreaming, really?

                    And an illustration of Chiara’s encounter with the glutton “dreggun” Buckberry

                    #261

                    In searching for a sheet of paper to do some sketches of images going through his mind, Bill found an old poem he had started a long time ago, when he was feeling like he was completely transforming himself. He had not finished the poem, but had kept it all along…

                    It said:

                    I’ve been wandering through the valleys of death
                    Where time knows no ending and all is gray
                    And shadows seek nothing but oblivion itself
                    In mazes of mist, minds’ errands led astray…

                    Perhaps it was time to let go of useless things, Bill thought to himself.

                    He watched the paper slowly smoldering and shrinking and falling to black and white cinders into the hearth.

                    :fleuron:

                    Before going to sleep that night, Quintin had the sensation of Janice’s presence. He was surprised, because she was no longer the little girl he had seen at times, but she was a very pretty young woman, with dark wavy hair.

                    She had giggled at his surprise, telling him that yes, she was catching up with him…

                    :fleuron:

                    The City, year 2255 (%)

                    Today was Janice’s birthday, but not her birthday as the Ancients, two and half a century from her time, would have counted it. It was counted from the time of the conception, as the future parents in this time were fully aware of the agreements they would have with the soul they would decide to give birth to.

                    It was a reminder of this agreement between the parents and the child that was celebrated, and not the actual birth date.

                    Janice had felt Cyprus’ presence quite strongly, and she decided to let herself open to the subjective communication. She was conversing with her friend Qixi, and sent her some energy to let her know she would probably remove her attention for a few moments, knowing she would be accepting.

                    When she closed her eyes, she could immediately feel herself engulfed by the strong yet smooth energy of Cyprus; it was like being kissed by a swarm of blue sparkling butterflies.

                    Then she opened her eyes.

                    She was in an ancient classroom, with Cyprus focused as a teacher figure. Cyprus was seated behind her desk and came at once to great Janice.

                    — Good morning!
                    — Good morning Cyprus, you wanted to say something to me?
                    — In actuality, you wanted me to tell you something, answered Cyprus with a mysterious smile.
                    — Yes, I thought so. Is it about what I am choosing to do as an activity?
                    — Correct.
                    — You are aware that I want to be creating of worlds, and give them to people that would have commissioned them…
                    — Yes, I am aware. And you wanted me to highlight some misconceptions about that.
                    — Oh, misconceptions?
                    — Yes. As you know, with these worlds that you create, you have infinite potential of explorations. You also know that they are not independent from the rest, even when you take great care of encapsulating them in an energy field. And as such, they are not cut-off from yourself, as soon as you deliver them.
                    — It feels like a tremendous responsibility.
                    — It is, and it is not. The responsibility is to yourself, as always. But, I wanted you to be aware that you hold some responsibility, to examine your own injections into these worlds that you create, so that you can be neutralizing what is not desired, and not merely hiding it deeper inside the world itself.
                    — OK, I will do that…
                    — Ahaha, there is another thing, my dear.
                    — Oooh…
                    — You also wanted me to make sure you understood what I meant.
                    — Ahahaha, I see. Wiggling out won’t be as easy as I thought, Janice said with a smile. So, is it the reason for this classroom?
                    — Nothing is hidden from you, as always.

                    So Janice took a look at the sheet of paper on top of her own school desk.

                    — I’ll be around if you need me, reassured Cyprus.
                    — Thank you, said Janice

                    The paper was like a spot test, with a few questions on it.

                    :fleuron2:

                    Study on a Few Contradictory Beliefs

                    1. GUILT

                    a. An old lord has lost contact with his son, because of harsh things said in the past.

                    Write a short story about him realizing how guilt is not effective, and how past can be changed from the point of present by direct action.

                    b. Detail the main beliefs you can see associated with this action of guilt.

                    2. FEAR

                    a. A man chooses to be disengaging by drowning in a river. During his transition, he faces his fears, helped in that by a friendly spirit. The fears take the forms of a forest of trees, all similar, with branches and malicious roots extending to him. In his previous life, the man thought he was a fool, as an excuse to stand out of the numb crowd. But now he faces this crowd again, only to be able to go on his journey and let go.

                    Write a short paragraph about his journey. Place yourself from the perspective of both him and the friendly spirit guiding him through his fears, and see how he helps himself in realizing he does not need to push the fears away, and that they can disappear easily.

                    b. Detail the beliefs associated with his madness, that he needs to let go of in order to be crossing the forest, and go to the Bridge of Daffoldils that leads to his cave of Self.

                    DUPLICITY

                    In association with the last two examples, detail how duplicity (belief in good versus bad) is influencing of each of the actions, and can be neutralised by accepting self and trusting that you shall not betray yourself.

                    :fleuron:

                    Janice gave her paper to Cyprus, who took it and held it for a moment, evaluating the answers.

                    Cyprus then made it burst into a bluish dancing flame, and when the paper had disappeared, smiled at Janice lovingly.

                    #235
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      Fiona :) ed as she read the latest updates on Quintin’s website.

                      *** *** *** *** ***

                      She felt the strong presence of her evil twin as she found herself compelled to play with some of the new features. :face-devil-grin:

                      *** ***

                      She hoped this would not make Quintin feel :( as really it had nothing to do with the story.

                      Or did it :-/

                      *** ***

                      Of course he can always delete it if he wants, she thought happily :D or make some rules, to stop this sort of thing happening in the future. ;)

                      *** ***

                      :yahoo_big_hug:

                      #203
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Dory dodged in and out of the people crowded in the narrow back street. She needed several meters clear run to activate her special flying sandals, and she had no idea which way to go.

                        A girl in a dark heavy blue cape was fiddling with a map on a street corner. Dory snatched the map off her as she ran past, shouting over her shoulder ‘thanks awfully, dont mind if I borrow your map do you?’

                        Glancing down at the map, she found it had morphed into a page torn from the old testament.

                        #202
                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          Jacqueline Bleomelen was a strict yet very affectionate nanny. Her Breton name being barely pronounceable by the English speaking kids she had at her charge, she was most of the time simply called Nanny.

                          Once, one of the rude kids from a previous home where she had been serving an atrociously callous French Count, had called her an Old Gibbon, referring to her wrinkled face. But she had a very light-hearted nature, and wouldn’t show any hint of taking offense.

                          Better, she liked the association with the playful and ingenious apes, and kept the moniker as it was more easily pronounced by the English kids she had in charge, and made them laugh that they could be so irreverent without facing punishment.

                          For special occasions, Jacqueline was wearing a funny costume that made the children often wonder why she had put some funny hat with little moth-feelers loose on her chin, but that, she had explained was a traditional dress from her homeland of Brittany.

                          Tonight, Jacqueline, or Nanny Gibbon, was having a funny dream, but perhaps that have been because she had been very excited by that excerpt she had read before going to sleep. As she was very pious, every night before going to bed, she would read a random quote of the Bible.

                          Last night it had been the Old Testament, from the Book of Joshua. It was about the conquest of the Promise Land, and talked about a king from Hazor named Jabin…

                          And in her dream, Jabin was a strange looking man, lost in the middle of ruins, who wanted to contact a woman about discoveries he had made in the Promise Land. He had found an entrance to a cave that had befuddled him. He hadn’t ventured too far into the cave, but anytime he had, he had found it impossibly deep and wide. So he wanted to share that discovery with that woman, but she was flying around in a parrot-coloured ballet tutu, on top of a three-humped flying camel…

                          Even the rigorous Jacqueline couldn’t repress a laugh at the unlikely images that her tired mind had produced.

                          #163

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

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

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

                          Well done, and shall you fly?

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

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

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

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

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

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

                          For a moment he even considered revealing his whereabouts.

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

                          #160

                          Leörmn had been moving along very swiftly, shapeshifting into a tiny weaszchilla so as to move around unnoticed by Arona.

                          He had laughed a tiny squeak when he had heard her gasp “Rats”, but it had been muffled down by the flight of the schpurniatz. That was another test for the girl’s endurance, and she had brilliantly passed.

                          Of course, as he could change the cave’s tunnels into his mind, he would not have let Avona fall into a pit… Well now that he thought of it, that could have been interesting and quite funny, but she probably wouldn’t have appreciated that kind of humour.

                          But the dragon also was not really giving her clues as to how she could perceive the tunnels, because after all, she was also choosing her way, in a sense.

                          You are so wicked! laughed the delightful vibrant voice of Malvina in his head.

                          Oh yes, he answered mentally, and I see that you enjoy it too

                          #157
                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            For a moment Arona panicked, then she stood completely still while the strange flying creatures settled back down, and tried to think.

                            She knew what she had to do, she had to sense which tunnel felt the lightest and then follow that. A perfect test for her intuitive abilities she had been learning to follow.

                            Look where they have got you so far, whispered a little voice in her head … or she thought it was from her own head … or was it ?…. everything felt so strange all of a sudden.

                            So she looked at each tunnel in turn, and even looked back the way she had come (but to be honest, she loved an adventure and did not really want to turn back) and she felt the left tunnel beckoning her.

                            Huh let us hope it is the one leading furtherest away from that dragon, she thought grumpily

                            You don’t mean that came the little voice again.

                            No, thought Arona, I don’t mean that really, even his silly dragon face would be better than this aloneness.

                            She moved quietly forward, not wishing to disturb any more flying things, and entered the tunnel.

                            #131

                            Arona was lost. She had been lost for quite some time now and had got over the initial surprise this realisation had given her. It was not very often now that she questioned her decision to leave the others. She had tired of their endless journeying, always in circles, always moving and yet never seeming to move beyond the confines of the small village.

                            One day she told them she was leaving. She wasn’t even sure if they heard her but still she set off, wearing her heavy black cape and carrying a small bag of her most treasured possessions.

                            Arona had not been sure of the cape, it was so heavy, yet she feared the cold nights and loved the security of it’s warmth. It had been a gift from her parents, a long time ago, when she was just a child. Wear this cape and one day it will bring you happiness, her mother had said.

                            Her mother said many odd things and had left on a journey of her own a many years ago, so Arona had never really been able to find out what she meant. Magically the cape had grown with her body, moulding itself to her.

                            The worst of the winter cold was over now and Arona found the cape almost unbearably heavy at times, yet she could not quite bring herself to leave it behind. Sometimes she would take it off, relishing in the lightness and feeling the warmth of the sun on her body. She always put it back on though, just in case she needed it one day.

                            Arona pulled out a well worn map from her bag. The map had been a gift from a travelling wizard who visited the village a few years ago. Arona had given him food and shelter and he repaid her kindness with the map. He seemed to think it was quite generous of him and Arona had thanked him politely. To be honest it was not really much use to her as she had no sense of direction, not even knowing which way north was, and not knowing where she was going anyway. She preferred just to follow whichever way seemed lightest at the time. But it was handy having the map because when she met others on the journey who asked her where she was going, she would wave her map at them. It made her look good, she thought, and saved her from too many questions.

                            That day as she sat on a rock pretending to ponder her map she became aware of a faint sound of music in the distance. She had not heard music for such a long time. Once on her journey she had passed a wandering minstrel and begged him to play for her so that she could dance. In exchange she had lent him her cloak for a while to keep him warm.

                            She felt the music beckoning her.

                            :fleuron:

                            Fiona loved Quintin’s drawings. They had a feel of magic and lightness and she was entranced by them. They were like the children’s films she had been watching lately, with many layers to them and touching something inside her mind, a distant memory which felt strangely close.

                            Her own drawings felt heavy to her, and she had made a decision not to paint again unless she felt inspired. She did not really understand inspiration, only knew that she was tired of trying so hard.

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