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  • #2162
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      From the Aah alternate Aniverse, some words from Lemane

      “I think that’s one of the reason why I don’t really appreciate Xmas, because of that sickening tradobligation of buying crappy stuff, but as long as you’re on facegoat, I can send good karma to you.” ID1945

      pftlabaltloup that’s the Samari word for what I wanted to say: it may sound a little dismissive, but it’s pronounced fruit-lab-at-loop. Indeed; ‘fruit’ because the emails like snoot fruits, ‘lab’ for the extraction of the quintessence, and ‘loop’ to keep in loop… And we are complete.” ID1945

      #1238
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Alizabath Tittler took another draw on her fag of nicoback.
        Passing her hand through her wild and matted hair, she noticed there were mare and mare bald patches hare and thare instead of her former lusciaas mane… and her ayes a tad blaadshat, but she trusted she was beautifaal.

        Taking another slaarp off her glass of dark red clarat wine —her faarth? she had lost count…— she sighed remembering the gaad old days. Not that she missed her dazen of previaas hubbas, nah.

        She was comfartable tonight. Orok the building manager, one had to concede it to him, had decided to heat the building earlier this year, due to the falling temperatures, and it was all very warm and cosy inside. Traath was, she barely wanted to get out of the building at all, having Fannley order Chaanese faad for her, under the pretaxt to fanish her next novel. But end was never nearly in sight.

        Her pablisher, Brackel, was still asking her about her next manuscraapt, and Fannley, the claaning-lady of the office (she only figured out recently that she actually was a ‘she’) was thrawing suspiciaas laaks on her every time they met.

        All in all, life laaked almost the same. Not the same without a Lemane quote though.
        She opened his last baak at random, laaking for a paarl of wisdam.

        I think that’s one of the reason why I don’t really appreciate Xmas, because of that sickening tradobligation of buying crappy stuff, but as long as you’re on facegoat, I can send good karma to you.

        “Waw!” What an ideaa, this yeaar, she will send gaad karma to her ex-husbaands.

        “Anathar wan!” She couldn’t get her hands aff such profaand baak.

        Roger-Y, her pet talking white gaase started to screech frantically “Anathar WAN! Anathar WAN!” making her little fainting mongrats collapse to the flaar.

        “pftlabaltloup”: that’s the Samari word for what I wanted to say: it may sound a little dismissive, but it’s pronounced fruit-lab-at-loop. Indeed; ‘fruit’ because the emails like snoot fruits, ‘lab’ for the extraction of the quintessence, and ‘loop’ to keep in loop… And we are complete.

        “Waw” She was always struggling to kaap in the laap with all her characters; naw, that was something to consider, as she was Samari belonging herself, not at all Vaaldish like her mather. Gad forbads.

        #1229

        “Is there a probable Becky still at the Serendib Facility ~ in-the-rural-mountainous-central-region-of Sri-Lanka-in-the-2030’s ~ Godfrey?” Elizabeth hurriedly included some background information in her question to appease her publisher, the erudite and enigmatic Godfrey Pig-Littleton.

        Elizabeth was amused to note that erudite was almost an opposite to rude, but as Elizabeth could vouch for, neither was mutually exclusive, as Godfrey was clearly equally at ease exhibiting both ends of the rude spectrum. But I digress, she said to herself, turning her attention to Godfrey.

        Elizabeth,” he said with a frown, “At your request I have had installed all manner of information retrieval systems, both objective and subjective, and yet you will insist on asking me questions instead of accessing the information yourself.” Godfrey shivered, attempting to wrap his velvet smoking jacket closer round his spare frame. The rich claret colour suited him perfectly, but it was clearly inadequate against the bitter cold. “Put another log on the fire, Liz, it’s colder than a witches tit in here today!”

        “Don’t be rude, Godfrey” replied Elizabeth with a sniff. “I’m too cold to move, you do it. I’ve been absolutely frozen ever since Al sent us all to the South Pole. As a matter of fact, there’s been a cold snap all over the globe, which is why” she continued “I am trying to get us all out of there and back to Sri Lanka! We don’t want to start another Ice Age, Godfrey, this has to stop.”

        “Ah, those were the days” smiled Pig Littleton. “I remember it well. It all started when Aunt Jeanne du Bappe was writing her book and wanted more ice for her G&T. Somehow it all escalated out of control, and before you could say Boo to a Goose, the whole place was covered in glaciers. A few million years later, when she’d slept off the effects of the gin, it was just beginning to thaw…”

        “Dear old Jeanne, where is she now? I haven’t heard from her for…er, aeons.”

        “Oh, she’s in fine fettle, got a job in The City you know. They say she’s quite something in The City these days, got quite a name for herself in Design & Communications.”

        “Has she now! She’s done well for herself then, last I heard she was tiling kitchens in New Venice.”

        Pig Littleton snorted. “Aunt Jeanne du Bappe, tiling in New Venice? Don’t be ridiculous, Liz, you’re getting your timelines in a twist. I expect that was one of her protegée’s, Aunt Jeanne’s been in The City for —well…”

        Godfrey was uncharacteristically stumped.

        Elizabeth wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to tease her old friend. “For how long?”

        “For a very long Now”

        “Well, I must say, that’s a fine thing isn’t it, to start an ice age and then bugger off to The City while everyone else freezes their tits off” said Elizabeth, blowing on her hands to warm them.

        “You do realize, Liz dear, that every time you mention the word Cold, or Frozen, or Ice Age, you are increasing the potential of the Ice Age in the Probability Pool?”

        Godfrey, the Probability Pool has frozen over. We’ll be skating right over the top of it instead of dipping into it, if we don’t start a thaw soon!”

        #1227
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Elizabeth had wanted to voice her concerns about the Vowel Shift and its potential impact on language and understanding to her publisher Godfrey Pig Littleton on numerous occasions, but until his, to her way of thinking, outrageous tampering with her script, it had not been in the forefront of her mind. She had simply ignored the Vowel Shift in the Ooh Dimension, and made up her own Vowel Shifts instead, in a variety of minor ways. Ironically and somewhat perversely (Elizabeth was well aware of the consonant shift, which she translated as a continental drift symbol) Pig Littleton was quick to notice and object.

          “Do you deliberately write ‘collaberative’ instead of ‘collaborative’?” he asked.

          “There are No Accidents, Godfrey” retorted Elizabeth, rather cleverly shutting the old coot up, at least for awhile. Thank Goodness he was otherwise engaged with the latest production of TWIST, and not breathing down her back about The Book.

          #2035

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Lots replied whispered story… :yahoo_praying:
            Journal nothing. :yahoo_raised_eyebrow: :yahoo_confused: :yahoo_shame_on_you:
            Wanted great surely.:yahoo_thinking:
            Week told high, easily real :agreed:
            Wrick sake :cocktail:
            :crystal-skull: Comment skull notice change hill

            #1212

            Franiel, dear lad, are you here?”
            The voice was sweet yet authoritative.

            “Yes, M’am. Is there anything I could do for you?”

            Franiel had been at the service of Madame Chesterhope for a few moons, but he felt like it had been his whole life. He quite enjoyed the peaceful life at her mansion, which was interestingly only seldom visited.

            He was offered food and shelter for his doing some repair work for Madame Chesterhope when she was requesting it. The rest of his time was free, and he used to go wander in the calm neighbourhoor to observe the nature which was so different from anything he had seen before. It was as though the whole countryside was by eerie mimicry perfectly suited to the strange lady with the foreign accent.

            The simple work in communion with this nature had streams of words rise inside him like seeds sprouting after a warm rain. He wasn’t sure he wanted to express them however.
            He had tried a few times to tell Lydia, but her merciless laughter alone would have nipped any of his attempts in the bud.

            One of his greatest satisfaction was to go to the ‘motorbike’ and try to figure out its functioning. Lydia had laughed at his stubbornness to try to make the old piece of junk work —by her own words, she’d rather delete the whole thing out of reality, if it was for her to decide. Luckily enough, it wasn’t for her to decide, and nobody else really cared for his attempts.

            He wasn’t seeing Madame Chesterhope so often, and sometimes she seemed gone for hexades without anyone being able to tell if she was there or not. She simply seemed to have disappeared.
            He had been buggered for a while to figure out who the “Others” she had mentioned on their first encounter were, but apparently, had said chatty Lydia who believed the lady to be completely nuts, she was referring to “TEAFERS” (said in a mock-conspiratorial tone). “Teafers?” Franiel had asked puzzled. “Ahaha, you’re so thick sometimes.” had answered Lydia almost chocking herself into gales of laughter “Thieves! She’s obsessed about thieves! I suspect she’s got some precious stuff she would hate to lose. But believe me, to be as obsessed by thieves as she is, she probably hasn’t got all this stuff willingly given to her…”

            Anyway, with all that being said about Madame Chesterhope, she remained to Franiel as much a mystery as she was the first day he’d met her.

            — “Yes. There is something I’d love you to do, sweetheart. There are people who seem to be coming, and the mansion hasn’t received that many gentlemen for a while, as you can obviously tell. I would love you to assist Lydia in preparing the ball room, and the main hall, do some fixing where it’s needed, that kind of things.”
            — “Yes, sure M…”
            — “I won’t be there the next days, so be sure to make all things necessary before I come back. I count on you.”
            — “Very well M’am.”

            #1211

            It felt like she’d been projecting for hours —in and out of her body, often brought back by the incomfort of the warm and moistly room, where the rheumatic fan was blowing a measly wind full of humidity.

            The rabbit she’d seen a few hours ago was ‘wanishing’, like a gentle feeling of pure joyful happiness holding by a thread that you try to reminisce before lapsing back into the old patterns of self-doubts.

            She didn’t have to strain herself so much, she suddenly realized; it never worked well when she tried to push it. She wanted the clarity of the projection to be deeply anchored within herself, and not some stroboscopic view of her grim reality sandwiched in glimpses of blissful clear lightness.

            So, she decided to wait for the moment to be back. Time didn’t really matter once you projected, but here in this reality time still mattered, and you had to find the proper exit-way. Not all moment seemed to work well.
            There were old books in this room, most of them, her son probably did pile up without even reading them. Some of them evoked the the birth pangs of the new era they were still building, which had started about 30 years ago. Now, in 2038 she was old, but back then she was in her mid-life and fully aware of the good aspects and not so good aspects of this life. She had yearned for the changes, and it had come; she had outlived most of them, and the books probably wouldn’t tell her much that she had not actually lived. Probably her son was keeping them because of his beliefs on wasting his investments.
            She, for one, couldn’t care less about them.

            She picked a little book, with a few words and mostly drawings and symbols on it, and she smiled. She’d seen some of these symbols in her dreams, she related to them; she didn’t need the words explaining them; words were just the authors’ translations, and she trusted her own before them. But the book was making her feel good.

            She leaned back in her bed, maneuvering the rolling bed to be in front of the last beams of light of the day.
            She could see the full moon rise, and she felt peaceful.

            :fleuron:

            When she noticed she was in front of the cave, she wondered how long she’d been out of her body without knowing.
            She could see the moon higher in the sky than when she was in her room, and she could feel an energy of excitement.

            Anita was finally coming out of this underground trip with her parents. Seeing the little girl in the flesh would be such a revelation for her, she was thrilled to the point of even forgetting her doubts about the possibility that she was really becoming insane.
            She didn’t know why or how, but she would convince her son to offer them some shelter, so that they could settle before getting home. She had so much to learn from the little one she could feel. She was really wise beyond her age…

            Voices where starting to fill the silent space:

            Anu! It’s been hours now we’ve been in these damp corridors, are you sure you know the way?”
            “Yes Mum, we’re almost there…”
            “Here, I can see the light Lily!”
            “Yes, I can see it too Aaron!”
            “Wow, the moon is full, it’s so lovely”

            After the couple had emerged, Balbina could see Anu wink at her. She was seeing her! Now, she only need show her the way to the house!

            #2034

            In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Library ‘light’ words,
              Party step ~ hope real.
              Knew, done: liked room.
              Months dead portal getting human:
              Obviously involved!
              Wanted:
              Away Case.

              #1208

              From Georges’ account of his first encounter with Phoebe Chesterhope. Part I

              On that bright sunny day of June, 1852 I was impersonating the heir of an American family involved in weapon industry… taking advantage of a business trip for my father, I was enjoying the night life of Paris and naturally got closer to a certain Catherine whose family’s wealth was quite substantial. The first part of the scenario was almost done… I had to make her infatuated enough to make her ask her father to lend me a big amount of money I was supposed to use it as an investment in our family business that was flourishing and quite.

              As we were approaching a jeweller’s of the Saint-Germain district, my eyes noticed a woman coming from the opposite direction. Definitely not from Paris, something surreal in her appearance caught my attention. It was not something physical, and it was obviously something I couldn’t name at that moment. Intrigued as I was, I still kept my conversation with Catherine going on. I was quite trained to spot my next preys while I was still playing with the previous one, and with a stranger it would be even easier. She entered the shop.

              I maneuvered quite subtly to approach the window without being noticed, and while my companion was raving about some of the finely made necklace and bracelets, I was observing the woman. The owner had made her sit on a chair near the cashier and was bringing her some tea. I couldn’t help but notice how she dismissed him harshly right away after that; apparently he wasn’t the one she wanted to meet that day. The man seemed somewhat offended but soon enough regained composure: there were other clients in the shop and he made sure his assistants wouldn’t daydream unnoticed.

              “Do you want to go inside, darling?” I suggested to my mate, “I’m sure the choice is more interesting if we speak to the right person.”

              I knew I wouldn’t have any problem to bring her into that kind of place, and the look in her eyes was quite validating. It took me a brief moment and a persuasive tip to one of the shop attendant to explain that I wanted Catherine to choose what she desired. I wanted a fine piece of jewelry suiting her beauty. All I had to do was let the clerk show her different set of jewels and and just look as if it was unfair to her beauty and let her look for another one. In between, I was free to observe the other woman sideways.

              #1204
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                “What did you do with Baba Yolanda?” the usual gang asked Angela Goose when they saw her coming alone.

                “Oh bugger Baba the Loon, I’ve put her in an Eiders Nursing Home, she’ll be comfy there and I’ve got enough feather ruffling at home, I had to admit the Eiders Nursing Home are more equipped than I am.”

                “Oh, zheers Angela, good zing for you” Jobby the baby pygmy hippo wanted to applause. “Now we can go see Barry the White Bear!”

                “Hang on a minute,” Angela interrupted “Don’t you think we should enroll Baboona and Obaboon? They are quick-witted and smart like humans those two, could be helpful to worm a bit of information out of Barry…”

                “Oh, that’s it, you don’t think we’re good enough, how rude” Weirdy the Weasel feigned being hurt

                “Oh, stop it Weirdy, we’re all fine, you’re right; let’s go now, we’ll see what comes when it comes…”

                #1199
                Jib
                Participant

                  Sam was packing his stuff… the City had emerged and he wanted to visit it.

                  Yes FoxSam! I’m bringing you with me…” and more to himself “and I won’t forget my copy of Tiles Of The City Bible either

                  #1184

                  “So we’ll be moving as soon as the others come back from their trip. Very well, that will be a great opportunity to see new environments for YikesVincentius acknowledged the news with his usual composure.

                  “Very well then, I hope you are not too worried about Arona, but she…”
                  “Not at all” Vincentius answered with a smile.
                  “Oh… Okay then. Perfect!”

                  Malvina added as if to make sure he had understood everything properly “So, I’ll be at my friend’s den for a few days. Georges and Salome will be here in case you need anything, and of course Buckie, though he might be a bit unpredictable…”

                  “Have a safe voyage” so Vincentius, who was not of many words when it wasn’t about saying something meaningful, ended the conversation.

                  :fleuron:

                  To go to see her friend Yimho, Malvina wanted to look pretty —not dashing, but not looking like a country girl either. She reached for the linen embroidered dress with the zynder patterns. She loved it, it would be perfect.

                  Yimho was a guy living nearby she had known briefly from her days of Sorcery training, who had a rejuvenating cave situated just under a hot spring, so that water was running almost everywhere inside the cave. On the walls, the floor, little pools everywhere. Yimho had this uncanny interest in golfindels and was telling all sorts of stuff to entertain people with; stuff that he got from tuning himself to the consciousness of the creatures.
                  Malvina was thinking she would have a nice time there, though the echoes of clicking sounds throughout Yimho’s dwelling were a bit disturbing…

                  #1177
                  Jib
                  Participant

                    Yann was feeling a bit uncertain of what to do next. These past few days had been evolving in an unfamiliar direction and doing familiar things like going to work, eating at more or less fix hours (the same kind of food), and even checking the mail sitting on their sofa was feeling uncomfortable.
                    Most of the time, if he continued focusing on what was happening in the outside world, he was feeling overwhelmed really quickly and things he was doing at that moment would kind of escape his control… the plates would fly over if he was washing the dishes, the tooth brush would hit his gums savagely if he was brushing his teeth… Not so gentle reminder in his opinion.
                    Well, all of that was making him ponder about becoming completely insane in order to have an excuse of doing whatever he wanted at the moment he wanted…
                    Too tired to proof read…
                    :chomping:

                    #1171
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      “Mr Ryell?”
                      “Yes?”
                      “It’s such an honor to meet you, your carvings are absolutely gorgeous! I’ve bought one for my mother, she loves your creations so much!”

                      Sam H. Ryell, known as Sam to his friends, was waiting in his studio for Tina and Al to come pick him up for the Hallowe’en celebration. His exposition of vitrified watermelon and pumpkin carvings had attracted lots of folks from all corners of New Venice, quite unexpectedly.
                      He wasn’t too sure he deserved all the compliments, but if the lady’s mother loved his carvings, why muddy one’s pleasure.

                      Truth was, since he’d came back from the Floridisles, he’d felt completely uninspired to carve any longer. All the carvings that were on display were at least three months old. And the more recent of these were not actually of his doing,… not quite entirely.
                      He wanted to do something else, try other materials. No matter what they all said; he was fed up with vegetables.

                      “Perhaps I’ll try nuts next, what do you reckon, Foxam?”

                      The little nine-tailed fox yelped at him approvingly.

                      #1167
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        a hotel room in Auckland, New Zealand

                        Veranassesee closed her report silently.

                        What a mess it all had been. Given the circumstances, she had acted with unbelievable self-possessed strength and wit.
                        She had little doubt she would be fired though. The Confregation wasn’t exactly known for their blanket acceptance of excuses for people’s short-failures —or worse, for their lack of accepting their own responsibility. Quite the contrary.
                        She would be expected to resign, and even the smoldering hot and sexy Agent Gabriele’s intercession wouldn’t be seen with a complaisant eye.

                        “No matter…” She had managed to keep everyone she could out of trouble or certain death, and for that she was quite proud of herself. Even if her job was most of the time to actually make sure they would meet their death more quickly. Perhaps she was getting too soft for that job.

                        The phone rang abruptly cutting her off her trail of thoughts.

                        “Yes?” (…) “Mmmhhh mmmh” (…) “Okay. Fine. Thank you.”

                        She would be presenting her report’s conclusions at the hearing tomorrow, and then would be free to go. Start a new life maybe; or get back to Mahiliki who was for now confined with the aircraft’s pilot in one of the Confregation’s detention centers for interrogation. They’d say it wouldn’t be long; they wanted to make sure no crucial information had leaked.
                        She couldn’t really pity Mahiliki; he was cute… harmless in many ways; she was sure he would be out in a matter of days,… and unsurprisingly get back to his peasant’s life on Fikitupi.

                        As for herself… that may be a whole other story.

                        #1146

                        “Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”

                        “Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.

                        “As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”

                        “Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.

                        “Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”

                        Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”

                        Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR

                        “So what did you learn about the door, then?”

                        Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”

                        “If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”

                        Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:

                        I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house,
                        and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one.
                        The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room.
                        Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified
                        in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom
                        but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.

                        “Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”

                        Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once,
                        I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through.
                        Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks
                        but I carried on anyway.

                        “Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.

                         It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings
                        (not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows
                        of closed doors on either side).  The foyer opened out on the left into a large old
                        fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at
                        a table.  I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors
                        onto an upstairs outdoor terrace.  There was a city scene below.  On the left
                        was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.

                        “Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.

                        “Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.

                        A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was
                        going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up.  She collapsed into
                        the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.

                        “Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”

                        Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”

                        “You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.

                        I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.

                        “Maybe it was a baby dragon?”

                        “Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.

                        I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it
                        was bulging out under my fingers.  It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature
                        and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature,
                        and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)
                        Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that
                        curved round to the right at a landing below.  I started to fall down the stairs and
                        knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding
                        when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself,
                        and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in
                        the same place, clutching the banister.

                        “Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.

                        “Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”

                        “The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.

                        “The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”

                        Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.

                        “The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”

                        Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.

                        “Pffft” said Bea.

                        “More coffee?”

                        #1114

                        Inside the cave, the presence of Leormn, though not completely gone, had diminished strongly. Most of the creatures inside the cave were thriving on his presence and his continuous reshaping of the corridors or the chambers. His presence was fading out gradually, and some of the more sensitive creatures were beginning to feel a discomfort, a kind of emptiness or a sensation of cold.

                        Malvina was not alarmed yet, it was a good thing he had allowed himself that little escapade. In a subtle way, he was reconciling some aspects of himself that he had been unaware of yet, and it was also a surprise to Malvina that the gates would reopen in that particular time frame, to the long lost sister of the Duane. Her awareness of what her dragon was doing was dim, and it had been so since the door had shut after the passage of Arona. This young girl had more than one trick up her mouldy cloak, and though she was unaware of most of them, she had an innate sense of using them wittingly.

                        Malvina smiled at the thought that she was quite similar to the girl when she was young… a long time ago.

                        But for now, she had other processes to set in motion. She focused on herself and adjusted her energy to match the signature of her friends Georges and Salome. It didn’t took long. Their presence was quite strong. As they were busy at the moment, she decided to go for a walk and meet them on her way.

                        :fleuron:

                        Georges and Salome were in the pool chamber that Leormn had kindly created for them inside the cave. It was continuously provided in hot water by a spring located on the ceiling and several families of glukenitch had furnished the place with the perfect amount of light…

                        Georges was following her progression from a ledge made of a rock similar to granite. He’d always been fascinated by her way of expressing her grace and technical mastery in any domain. When they had met, she couldn’t swim… and she wouldn’t. It’d been years later, when she had got rid of her wariness of water that she had considered the idea.
                        Now she was as comfortable inside and outside water, as well as in many different environments.

                        Being continuously connected, their energy field mingled in such an intimate way, he could easily turn his attention on her physical sensations; all the tiniest movements of the water upon her skin and also all of the adjustments she was making to her body inside and outside to improve the efficiency of her movements.

                        He dived off his observation point to play with her.
                        Alerted by his movement, she went deeper into the pool. He knew that she hadn’t modified her body to the point of incorporating gills, because it was usually difficult for her to get rid of them afterward. She had a soft spot for apnea, though and she was quite able of staying under water for lengthy amount of time.

                        Still focused on his swimming, he began to redirect certain aspects of his body consciousness. Some were unnecessary for his purpose, so he got rid of them; and he needed to give some other qualities to his skin. It took him a few seconds to shape-shift and he focused on his new physical senses to indicate him where she was.

                        When she realized what Georges was doing, she resisted the impulse to go to the surface.
                        What is he up to? she thought. When he’s in the process of shape-shifting his attention is so oriented inside that I can’t usually get any impression about his new shape, but

                        A flash of light illuminated the water around him, and the rhythm of the blinking cells of his new skin was creating a time related pattern with an hypnotic effect. Salome was feeling drowsy and she had to maintain her attention on herself or she’d better get back to the surface soon. If she wanted to play with him now, she would have to change form too.

                        #1815

                        In reply to: Synchronicity

                        Jib
                        Participant

                          Funny thing is that I never go check the members stats and then I wanted to go just a few minutes ago.
                          It showed me that I had 353 comments and 1053 visits :D
                          And that Tracy has more posts than she has visits :)) and she managed to do the 957th comment.

                          #1087
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Phlynn was late. “You just can’t get the staff these days” grumbled T’Eggy. Where was the dratted man? All she wanted was a quick leg-over before dinner, and now that Hector wasn’t coming after all, she could have spent more time with Phlynn.

                            Unbeknownst to T’Eggy, Phylnn was in the stables, struggling into his pistachio green jewel studded sari. He was late for the rendezvous in the library, and in his haste to don the disguise of a sultry voluptuous sultana, the endless yards of fabric wrapped around his long legs in a hopeless tangle.

                            #1066
                            Jib
                            Participant

                              Sam (the fox) had adapted quite well to Sam’s apartment.
                              He was rather fond of dark corners where his glowing fur would create more effects. An accurate reflection of Sam’s own centeredness on self and fascination with the influence of his energy on his environment, including other individuals.

                              A shift in his aspects made him feel dizzy for a moment. A nudge of energy from Tina and Al. They were at the floating terrace of a cafe and offered him to join in. Apparently, the ripples created by the hurricanes of last week were arriving in NYC. It was worth seeing. Some improvised surfing contest in the main channels of the city. Apparently Tina expressed quite freely to Becky and she needed to release the pressure. She had brought her bathing suit and was about to participate in the exuberant playful expression.

                              Apparently the fury of the elements somewhere can generate fun in another place. Something about influence and reconfiguration?

                              FoxSam was wagging his tails so it was obvious he wanted to come with him.
                              Sam wouldn’t have let him alone, anyway.

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