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  • in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #615
    EricEric
    Keymaster

      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 #613

      When Veranassessee entered the secret facility with Gloria and Sharon, her blood congealed in her veins.
      Patient 4 had escaped the safety straitjacket and was holding the doctor at paper-clip point.
      Patient 4, was one of the first six patients they’d treated on the island, an awful miscarriage… Of the six, all had developed strong reactions to the medication especially as they had not yet found the appropriate dosage for the blue spider venom. Some had developed extra appendices, most had been hideously disfigured, and all of them had gone bonkers.
      “Four” was the last alive of them all, by an inexplicable combination of luck and genetics, and by far the most dangerous one. Apparently, apart from madness, the venom had gifted “Four” with supra-human velocity and strength. It was what had kept that mad doctor from “erasing” that mistake, so sure he could find some interesting way of making profit out of that prodigious lucky find.
      But now that was compromising everything…

      V’ass pushed the two chatty old ladies in a broom-closet behind with a wink Be right back ladies!

      Sharon and Gloria giggled in the small room, wondering about the unexpected sense of hospitality of the people of that resort. All was so funny and exciting since they’d decided to come to that place.

      :fleuron:

      — Four! Release the doc’!
      — Don’t move an inch closer or I’ll kill him!
      — You have nowhere to go Four, backups will be here any minute now…
      — One second is all I need to snap his neck!
      — No! Dr. Chris Bronklehampton was moaning
      — You, stay still, the mummified Four snapped to the panting doctor.

      Quicker than light, V’ass shot a powerful sedative into the arm of the mummy. Four winced, drawing the dart out of the arm, crushing the fluffy fletchings between the fingers. Quickly assessing chances to escape, Four sent the doctor flying at the other side of the room, in a powerful swing of the arm, and jumped through the window in a formidable sound of smashed glass, disappearing into the jungle.

      Chris! Are you alright? Nurse Bellamy was already caring for the fainted doctor.

      in reply to: Synchronicity #1603
      EricEric
      Keymaster

        L-) L-) L-) L-) L-)
        (that’s five points 1-1-1-1-1) for your Francie, for another marvelous mind-blowing magical synchronicity digging up.

        :yahoo_big_hug:

        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #612

        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 Bliss

        Then 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 bleak

        Doing Wrong we forswear
        For Dust to be lifted
        And Wisdom we seek

        In the deed of the Elders
        And the Faith in the Community
        Light and Trust bespeak

        All 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 sand

        I am the flower
        the butterfly touched me
        I fell in love

        I am the raindrop
        the cloud released me
        I became the ocean

        The 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 #610

        All he remembered was the name “Akita”… He was not sure that it was his name, perhaps it was not, but he had taken it as his own.
        He’d been stranded on that island for so long he barely remembered whether he’d had a past before. In the beginning, he had taken an inventory of the passing time, but soon had discovered that days were irregularly long, and nights would sometimes last for more than one day, so that it was all pointless…
        The toughest part had been to live in good intelligence —he couldn’t really say harmony— with the predatory hairy nest of the daughters of Narani. But at least he’d made clear that he was able to defend himself and retaliate if needed…

        — Thanks to me, grunted a big dog half-focused, his head on his lap.
        — Yeah, mostly thanks to you, Kay

        Kay had appeared a few days after Akita discovered himself on that strange land. He was no common dog… In fact, Akita was wondering that it may only exist in his mind. Kay had been approaching him, more than he had tamed it, and soon Akita found out that he was no dog at all.
        He was, as Kay had said, an inugami or dog spirit, able to shape-shift, and willing to bond with Akita. He’s said Akita his previous owner had died, and that he would have to die with him unless being adopted by another…
        Akita had been reluctant at first, finding that there was something unclear, but he had agreed anyway… Better be with a faithful and powerful dog-spirit than die in the webs of the giant spiders…
        All he had to do was to name it. And so he named it Kay.
        Kay couldn’t be seen by most of the creatures in the forest, though the most sensitive could feel his presence. However, he could decide to take a more corporeal form, but that exhausted both Akira and Kay, and was rarely done. So most of the times, he was roaming the island in spirit form, which didn’t mean that he was powerless, far from it.

        — I can sense something’s coming, growled Kay who took the shape of a big two-legged werewolf…

        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #609
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          — So he wants us to paddle down a river of pea-soup, is that it, sweetie?
          Al was asking Tina, while playing with his teeth and gums…

          — Oh, I don’t have any clue really, sighed Tina who began to feel annoyed by Al’s constant fiddling with his mouth.
          — Well, not to worry then, except I’ve got focuses dead from poisoned pea-soup as far as I remember, so I am not overly enthusiastic about the whole pea-soup adventure… Better make it some more fluid…
          — And will you tell me what you’re doing now with that mouth of yours Albert? Last time that was the hair, then the nails… it seems you can’t get enough of these explorations of your body consciousness, can you? Tsss… Tumold aligned people…
          — Oh, this is fascinating, can’t you see, how fluid this all area is, despite the appearances.
          — If you say so…
          — Look!
          — Oh now, you’re being gross! Tina was positively appalled by Al’s behaviour
          — Oh, it’s funny, look… I can make my gums as malleable as marshmallow, and have my teeth float on that gum-soup…
          Yikes!
          — Entirely fascinating… And I can also grow some new ones, what would you say of pointy teeth like cannibals?
          — Oh, come on, Tina was now no longer impressed… Have fun as you want, I’m going for a walk to help Becky buy her wedding dress… She wants something that looks “tribal” she said…

          Tina went outside shrugging at the toothy grin Al gave her.

          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #598
          EricEric
          Keymaster

            Linda and Peregrine’s portrait had taken a little longer than expected to realize. Quite abruptly after India’s encounter with the old wrinkled mummy, Bill Jobsworth had fallen ill. An abrupt cold he said he’d caught, that had left him stuck in his bed for a few weeks.
            He’d thought that after the stone heads and the mummy, that was good he didn’t believe in maledictions, because he would have been dead by now. India Louise had been taking care of him, to the surprise of the old Lord who, however, barely expressed more than a raised eyebrow at her incongruous request.

            That little retardation was in fact the perfect pretext for the young couple of globe-trotters to settle down in the castle, and prepare a little photographic exposition on their last trip in Eastern Africa. Though in 2057, photographic cameras were by far outdated, Linda was very fond of these old contraptions that she could use to render some of their trips with a certain kind of focus.
            She’d a custom set of specially adapted cameras that she’d enhanced with devices to free her of the burdens of storage mostly. However, they could function most like the ancient ones. Capturing light through a single lens, in a very focused time and space framework.

            She was very proud of the pictures she had taken of the Dragon’s Blood Trees in Socotra Island and the natural lighting of the scene gave a surreal feeling to it as though an actual iridescent dragon had been hovering on clouds above them.
            When she saw them, India Louise had been gaping, telling they looked exactly like what delirious Bill had depicted of his visions
            Linda was moved beyond words at how amazingly complex and delicately beautiful this reality was…

            in reply to: Synchronicity #1595
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              Interesting sync, speaking of next Indiana Jones due in theaters in 2008, having to deal with crystal skulls; there’s a Frank Marshall in here too ;))

              Lucas stated that he became fascinated with crystal skulls while producing The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles in 1992. He felt the skulls were as strong a plot device as the Ark of the Covenant.

              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #595

              December, 21 st, 2057

              It was almost Christmas, and the Wrick Manor had been buzzing with preparation for the coming of Sean and Becky .

              Manon was diligently busy cooking, having already planned many mouth-watering dishes on her menu, like poêléed (pan-seared) foie gras on roquette fig salad, lobster in ginger and scallion soy sauce, ostrich fillets with dauphine potatoes, and loads of exotic desserts and tarts.

              Lord Wrick had told Manon that Becky was a vegetarian, but even Lord Wrick had trouble telling the cook what she should cook or not. Manon considered it a matter of rude interference upon her artistic culinary tastes, and no one was to tell her how to stir her sheep, so to speak. And secretly, she was sure that Becky would love her delicious Christmas menu.

              In the meantime, Nanny Gibbon was having India Louise and Cuthbert prepare the twinkling Christmas tree. The garlands were a bright electric blue crisscrossing the branches of the huge silver fir, dangling under the weight of shiny red balls. The children were delighted to see Granddad Sean and they could hardly keep in place, and were giggling with joy.

              This past month, with the settling down of winter, the light had been scarce, and even with knowing that all was purposeful, they’d rather create purposeful adventures in the Equatorial part of the world, where days were longer and temperatures balmier. They could almost tell that Manfred the cat was agreeing.

              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #594
              EricEric
              Keymaster

                Georges and Salome’s journal

                From Salome’s account of her journey to the Murtuane

                There is a purple beach that I have seen briefly in my third eye, with a stranded people of the Murtuane. It seems like a possible focus of Georges, named… “Jarvis” I would translate.
                Georges having moved to the mountainous and icy lands of the Duane, I thought it would be entertaining to discover more about this focus before telling him about it. Though it was not what I initially in mind as per an exploration, it surely has its purpose.
                This island has in fact the size of a continent, but being in an isolated part of the Murtuane, few are those knowing of it. It fosters some interesting creatures not found in other places of the Murtuane. Jarvis is not yet aware, but he is observed by some of them. Zentauras (these black-and-white striped centaur-like creatures) are guardians of this Island, and thus do not see the arrival of one of Jarvis’ kind as a particularly good omen. What puzzle them is that he has been rescued by one of the Daughters of the Sea.

                When I connect with Jarvis, he tells that he knows this land as “Kandulim”, a fabled island from which people could easily go into another world and bring back whatever is most precious to you. It always had been a legend for him until he had opened his eyes and seen the purple beach.

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #592

                Outside the apartment, the sky was a pale grey, with some delicate hues of more silvered clouds of smoke spewed out by the brick and concrete chimneys. Winter time was a few degrees warmer in the big city than in the countryside, on most of the scales he could think of: temperature, decibels at least,… and certainly a few others he didn’t know of.

                Yurick (or Quintin as he was still known) was spending some time at his friend Gustav ’s place, Gustav having moved a while ago from Vienna to Paris, for a new job opportunity in the gaming industry. Gustav was living for a large part in a fantasy world full of trolls, ogres, thieves, demonists and other creatures, which made his conversations always fascinating. It was like he could get his own information about some shifty aspects in consciousness, and they were translated rather undistortedly through these fantasy adventures.

                To Yurick, Paris felt almost less familiar than these other dimensional worlds, and bearably less colourful. But when he’d come back the day before, he had found not much changed, and the ambivalence he felt towards Paris wasn’t a stark dislike, as he could have felt some months before. Furthermore, as he was becoming closer to Yann, colours were coming back into his perception of that odd reality.

                And it seemed that Yurick was developing an uncanny propensity to see 23 or 53 each time he looked up at the clock. Making him wonder if that could have any use at all ;)).

                in reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud #1989
                EricEric
                Keymaster

                  HE managed NOT TO GET lost WITH THE spiders downstream,
                  HIS exploration sense WAS NOW yellow, AND THAT opened SOME NEW thinking AND ideaS,
                  HIS hands COULD easily CHANGE THE maleDICTION THAT HE’D seen,
                  AND IT seemed A close light WOULD bounce FORTH
                  ANNOUNCING SOMETHING fine AND soon great TO COME.

                  in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #587
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    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 #586
                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      In the discave, full of glimmering lights, and bouncing dragons, Salome started to sing an old tune :

                      :weather-clear: Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain. :weather-showers-scattered:
                      Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain. :weather-few-clouds:
                      :weather-storm: The dark days are gone, and the bright days are here, :weather-clear:
                      My sunny one shines so sincere.
                      Sunny one so true, I love you.
                      :heart:

                      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #584

                      Malika jotted down some notes on the chat window, depicting the images as they whizzed into her mind like the pages of a multicoloured flip-book

                      “As she swam swiftly to regain the spot of her observation, she skimmed almost to the surface, and as she did, she saw lights. She surfaced and heard sounds that resembled the music that she and her sisters played.
                      They held in their hands objects that projected sounds…

                      :fleuron:

                      As she swam swiftly to regain the spot of her observation, she skimmed almost to the surface, and as she did, she saw lights. She surfaced and heard sounds that resembled the music that she and her sisters played.
                      They held in their hands objects that projected sounds, and their echoes in the waters were projecting harmonious symphonies that were carried miles across the waters.

                      How odd that the sounds where so similar to the ones she had always known. But they were different, rasher, suffused of a violent nature which was so alien to the world she was coming from. It all was perplexing, and almost deafening to her. Her eyes getting slowly accustomed to the light could not yet perceive that there was no longer the life she’d felt on the strange floating body, but she knew it assuredly even without seeing it.

                      She plunged back into the waters, to reattain the gliding peace and softness that she had been missing so much already, even though she had been out of it for barely a few moments.

                      Where was the life she had felt… Gone in the strange world of the surface? She knew so little of that world, that she imagined that all their creatures could swim as easily in the airs as she could do in the waters. Was there a bottom to their environment?
                      All of these questions were erupting and expanding in her mind, when a sudden feeling got her forthwith.

                      She could feel him. Sinking slowly… and she could feel his pain inside, something else that was alien to her… He was so fascinating…
                      She swam fleetly to where he was.
                      She turned in small rounds around him, following closely his descent, not daring to touch him.
                      So alien, yet so beautiful.

                      She could communicate with him, as he was in something close to a deep slumber, and allowing for that exchange to happen. It was a breach of the rules, she knew.
                      She had been told not to interfere with things from the surface, yet she was interfering already, and she’d always been doing it in a sense… At what point did that breach leapt from her imagination to reality? She couldn’t say…

                      The light was casting a yellow radiance in the blue waters. A feeling of warmth and comfort surrounding them.
                      He was telling her he was dying, yet he was comfortable. Time meant nothing…
                      She conveyed to him that she could help him, bring him back to his floating station, where he could spring back into his world… She wanted to share so many things with him…

                      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #581

                      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 #578

                      Aglaë had been looking at the odd shape floating over the surface, mistaking it at first for the strange dead body of a creature of the lands.
                      But it was not, she could feel life on it, ever so light.

                      She knew the rules of her kind, and she shouldn’t be seen… She had been venturing already too close from the tabooed surface, her sisters would have told her.

                      But curiosity was great… irrepressible…

                      in reply to: Join me for a gourd of langoat milk…… #1420
                      EricEric
                      Keymaster

                        As with a toad’s lick, yikes! All become tad clear too ;))

                        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #575
                        EricEric
                        Keymaster

                          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.

                          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #572

                          The meowing of the angora Zhulie had woken up Yurick.
                          The past few nights, he had not heard her at all, but tonight, she seemed to request specifically his presence.
                          Last evening during the dinner, it had cracked him up because the cat was acting funny when it had smelled the cooked bamboo shoots of the sautéed vegetables he had for dinner. Perhaps a recognition of the Pekingese that he had once seen her to be, in shared focus in Imperial China.

                          Well, obviously Zhulie was no ordinary feline. Her character reminded Yurick of a blend of himself, Yann, Finn and his own mother. So that each time he was playing with her, he instantly had them in mind, in various orders of appearance, or strengths.

                          In any case, when he came back to his bed, Yurick was annoyed at first, to have been drawn out of his comfortable dreams, but he managed somewhat to get back to a state of relaxation, in between dreams and reality —which was obviously a mere way of saying things, as dreams are reality.

                          Speaking of dreams, his mind was wandering around the news that his mother had told him, about a distant cousin having published a book revolving around dreams and fantasies.

                          And then, within the dream, in the dream, in the dream,… an idea formed into his mind with the clarity of an evidence.
                          He could see it happening… Not only one book, but… oh, he couldn’t wait to tell his friends!

                        Viewing 20 replies - 1,441 through 1,460 (of 1,612 total)