📚 › Arona’s Party

Connecting stories where Arona appear —or her close friends (Mandrake her cat, Yikesy a strange baby, Vincentius a demi-god etc.).
Starting her journeys in the Duane (in the Alienor system), she learns to travel through tunnels and dimensions with the help of Leörmn, a dragon, and soon charts adventures of her own, meeting new challenges and old friends along the way.

So the Story goes...

Viewing 25 replies - 76 through 100 (of 226 total)
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  • February 21, 2008 at 3:18 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #745

    Arona, my dear?

    The silky voice of Malvina resounded in Arona’s ear, while she was meditating on the implications of the story Vincentius had told her.

    — Yes?
    — May I borrow you Buckberry and your sabulmantium for a few moments?
    — Oh sure, no need to ask… Though I don’t think you require my permission for Buckberry, isn’t he free as I am?
    — Oh yes he is, exactly as you said, free as you are

    Arona could have sworn she felt a winking energy rippling through her flesh, making some unfamiliar electrical currents crawl underneath her skin. She would have said she was thoroughly disliking it, though she wasn’t really sure if she was.

    — Oh, Malvina added as if an innocent afterthought, we are moving by the way, perhaps you may find interesting to join us for the homationing ceremony. You may learn some more about your sabulmantium.
    — Well, why not, answered Arona having no idea of what a homationing ceremony could be…
    — Very well, please join us in the main entrance, where I am playing the harp. We will be waiting for you.
    — I’ll be there in a second.

    So, they were moving? Speak about implications… Arona muttered, stroking dozing Mandrake, who had feasted on too many of the moorats crawling inside the moisteous cave tunnels.
    I guess I’ll take this astounding elan as a hint that I’ll be going alone she said. A yawn for all answer.
    Considering it was Mandrake, that was almost a mark of distinctive affection… or was it rather of affectionate distinction?

    Moving? She didn’t want to move, not yet, not like that… And to be honest, with all the stuff in that cave, she sure didn’t want to help pack all of this, be it by magic. What an impossible task.

    Vincentius the nanny was taking care of Yikes, so she was confident should anything happen, he would be alright.

    :fleuron:

    On the outside of the cave, the dragons were all lined up, as if waiting for some unknown signal. Leormn first in shades of teal, and his spawns, Buckberry, with the most florid and baroque hues of purple that one could imagine, and the two facetious Heckle and Jeckle in shades of emerald, looking unusually calm.

    Malvina, with Leo the little marmoset on her left shoulder, was playing her harp, while Irtak was accompanying her playing a mouth harp.
    Some drums had been disposed around, and quite naturally, Arona felt like beating the measure on these, getting slowly and slowly relaxed by the music and guttural sounds produced by the throat singing dragons.
    She almost laughed and broke the meditating pattern when she let the memory of Sanso come into her awareness. What a shame he’d missed that, that would have fitted him better than her.

    Slowly the sounds stopped, and Malvina very gracefully rose from her stool, and greeted Arona with a loving hug. Her flowing robe was a tender orchid hue with laces of thistle pink, and her silvery peach long flowing hair were giving her the aura of a princess.

    — Wait, where are Georges and Salome? She said, are they already gone?
    — No, they are waiting for us at the new location, she said with a smile… Now, Leormn will start the ceremony.

    Arona almost said Wait again, in anticipation of what was to come, and finally decided to let it flow. The serene look of Malvina and her motherly smile was of a nurturing reassurance.

    Outside, in the grassy lands, the dragons had all grown wings and were apparently ready to take off. A pile of conic shaped dirty sand was standing in front of the entrance, that Arona had never seen before.

    She could feel Buckberry answer her unspoken question without even a word being uttered. It is soil from the cave, and we will use it now.

    Arona watched the dragons rise in the sky full of damp gray clouds, and wondered what they were doing.
    They are doing two things, Arona answered Malvina (again that disagreeable habit of reading thoughts, couldn’t help but think Arona, wishing there would be some World around where such thing wouldn’t be so easy), first they are checking what kind of creature are staying with us and following the movement, continued Malvina, ignoring the remark, and second, they are drawing with that sand from the cave a circle to enclose the area we want to move

    Arona didn’t dare say the explanations were making her even fuzzier, so she nodded as if abreast of what was going on.

    Popping sounds of the dragons blinking in and out to get some more dirt almost made her dizzy, and she forgot the strangest feeling she had when she thought she heard “the area we want to move”.

    — Now, continued Mavina, the sabulmantium.

    The dragons were now all back, and the pile of sand had disappeared.
    Arona’s attention snapped back to herself, and she handed the fine object to the lady. She couldn’t help but notice the glowing eyes of Irtak, who apparently was very eager to see what would happen.
    So he will move too, she thought, hope his father won’t be too sad… Why did she felt it was a separation from this place she had found she was liking…

    — If you look closely, said Malvina to no one in particular, but Arona took it for herself, you will see how easy it is to come back if you feel so inclined.

    At her touch, the coloured sands in the sabulmantium’s transparent dragon shell globe started to move. And all could see the cave being formed, with all the little people, dragons, glukenitches and even Leo and Mandrake… They were all here, enclosed into a circle of sand.

    — Now, if you will follow me… said Malvina who traced on the ground a curvy symbol.

    And very slowly, as the whole sand scenery inside the sabulmantium was turning in a round, they all felt as though they were dissolving into the air. Yet, they were all solid, and the interior of the cave was still too.
    The only thing that was moving was the exterior, twirling and changing, getting out of focus, and moving erratically at the beginning, and then getting close to a focal point. Some fine tuning was occurring.

    And in a snap,
    The landscape
    Was
    In all its splendor…

    — Greetings! a smiling couple at the entrance of the cave said to the people inside.

    February 28, 2008 at 9:48 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #773

    On his way to work, Yann was singing. These last few days had been harsh to his self appreciation process, he had lots of judgments against everything he was doing. He had found it quite exhausting and quite detrimental to his relationships with his friends.

    Well, despite the fact that Archibald puppet had told him about his bucket… or his garbage he couldn’t remember, and not to forget to empty it regularly, he had been submerged with stimuli from everywhere and from everybody, to the point that he wouldn’t allow a single smile inside himself.

    Yesterday, they had received their furniture with Yurick, and in the process of assembling them and putting them into place, rearranging the configuration of the apartment, he found himself appreciating of his new home.
    When he woke up that night, it was 5:12am. He couldn’t sleep, and he wouldn’t wake Yurick up. He had noticed several times that he had many associations with this hour of the day… like a burden, a new day of work soon approaching all that crap again and so on…

    All he had to do was just… yes like that, he was appreciating his own being. Himself lying in the bed, the breathing movement of his friend beside him, still and relaxed.

    When the alarm clock was about to ring himself out of the bed, he was already awoken and he cut it off before it could awake his beloved. It was 7:57am.
    On his way to the bathroom, Arona the cat was quite demanding of caresses… he took some time and appreciated deeply the contact of her soft fur, long and warm silky hairs.

    Thus, Yann was singing, and when he arrived at the crossroad just before his workplace, there was that man… and their gaze met surreptitiously. And the man started singing. Yann smiled.

    March 16, 2008 at 11:53 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #795

    — Sorry for the confusion, the voice of Leörmn said, there may have been some traffic jam along the portal’s tunnel… I think we lost track of time somewhat.
    — But we’re arrived, aren’t we? asked Arona, still a bit grumpy about the cave moving.
    — Mmm, I suppose so. If my calculations are correct, we are. Although…
    — What?!
    Arona was starting to wonder what could possibly go more mind-boggling than it already was…
    Leormn puffed into a small-sized teal-bellied gyucko (a sort a cutie reptipooh) and started to wiggle away…
    — Have honey do’s, see you in a while!

    — Grumpf, always wiggling out this one… grumbled Arona.
    And where did they all go now? It seemed like once again, she had been left alone. Good riddance, better enjoy the calm before they come back.

    :fleuron:

    Malvina was enjoying this new place where she was in. She had felt that, in other Worlds, some of her other attentions had been moving too. Especially one who was having great funnie in her new housie which was harbouring a portal in a very ancient tree. And for most of these attentions, it was also a time of reunion with dear ones, and reactivation of a new kind of power.
    Perhaps the time was now for her too arrived, to reunite with her Sisters.

    Only thing was that, where she was now at this precise moment, her Sisters were not yet born…
    Interestingly, for a reason that only the mind of a century old wise dragon like Leormn knew —if she would trust it not to be a simple stroke of inattention and bad luck as he would try to make it appear— she was undoubtedly right where she had thought to be, a small island in the Eastern coastal area of Lan’Ork in the vicinity of the Marshes of Doom.
    Except that it was the Legendary Past…

    March 24, 2008 at 2:00 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #810

    Quite frankly, Midora didn’t know how and where to look for Badul. She had spent lots of time delving into the labyrinth of chapters that composed the book, at first to no avail.
    Only after some familiarization with the narrative had she come to roughly understand that the two books where rewriting the pages —or even, rewiring them— so that each time she started over, it was like a similar yet different story. Most of the alternate versions did occur within the same kind of environment, or the same dimensions as the previous ones, but there were always all kinds of small hints that made her get a small hunch that it was not quite the same story she had read before that was taking place now.
    She had even become quite good at tracking down these flimsy moments where she found herself wondering what felt “different”, at odds, or simply not quite at the same place. Like in her dreams, these were precious cues telling her to pay attention. More than simple cues, of course some of them where howling at her face that something required her attention. The additions made by her distant relative Dory, or later on by her step-daughter Becky were compelling cases of such occurrences. Asynchronous apparitions of mummies sometimes reminded her of stories told by one of her father and where more generally speaking of symbolic death and regeneration, but when all of these cues where as many portals the details of which she could lose herself in…

    Naasir had told her to find Badul. She knew Badul… Like Midora herself, Badul was a facet of the dreaming dragon who was exploring the many facets of itself in an intricate play, and it felt to her that Badul was stuck somewhere in the process and required some attention. In fact, she remembered that in all the versions of the stories that she had read about, Badul’s history was never ended. Each time, he was on his way to explore the new land he had discovered, and somehow, he just never get there.
    When she was trying to get to the rest of the story, as much as she would search for it, there were only blank pages.
    Perhaps it was for her to write them, like Indy did after she encountered that mummy decades ago, not necessarily to exorcise the experience, but rather to learn more about her connections.

    What were her own connections? She wondered.
    What did happen to Badul on his way to the clandestine traveling portal of Gralm Tur? And why did it matter? Did he found something about the network, and some link to the skulls which have been an obsession for quite some time for some of the major and most intriguing characters of this inter-dimensional sopoohpera?

    Truth was, Badul felt a bit like an oddball to her. She didn’t know how to get close to him. Apparently, when she had read the early articles from her great-uncle Cuthbert, she had found out that he had connected quite well to the daunting character. As a matter of fact, most of his comments had helped flesh out the character, while most of the other participants in the books had been only remotely observing his deeds. However priceless these clues were, Midora knew by now that they were not absolute, and would rewrite differently if the story was asking for it. And in fact, perhaps her own addition would change whatever his fate would have been.

    :fleuron2:

    Midora could feel Badul differently now… a young boy, whom she is babysitting, in another life.
    Bastian is baby Badul’s name and he’s a toddler, a toddler exploring an unknown world made of colourful toys.
    Midora (her name’s Ada in that focus) likes to work for little Bastian’s family. The woman, his mother, looks a bit odd like Morticia Addams, or like a Cher just out of her bed, but Ada likes her. She’s busy traveling alot, and doesn’t have much time to care for the baby.

    Midora thinks she has read about his woman somewhere in the books…
    Could it be that? Yes,… there is little doubt about it.
    It seems like she’s just run into young Carla

    March 25, 2008 at 9:32 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #813

    I am here to offer you my services in exchange for board and lodging Madame Chesterhope, said Franiel, deciding to tactfully ignore for now her rather odd remark regarding his reality.

    Oh please, call me Phoebe. Phoebe smiled kindly at Franiel. Have you come a long way? Well really, I forget my manners. Sit down and I will prepare you a drink and some food. Then you can tell me your story and what has bought you here.

    And so it was that just a short while later Franiel found himself ensconsed on the settee sipping hot mulled wine from a huge mug. What strange twists and turns life may take, he mused.

    And whether it was the wine that loosened his tongue, or the kindly look in Phoebe’s eyes and the attentive way in which she nodded her old head so wisely, but he found himself telling her the most surprising things, as though she were an old friend he had known and trusted all his life.

    Thus it was that it had soon been agreed that Franiel’s proposal would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

    It is as though you are an angel, laughed Phoebe, sent by God to help me, for it was weighing heavily upon me that there is much that needs doing. Dear Lydia who you met on the path, well what would I do without her, but she is not getting any younger, and Derwent …. her voice trailed off.

    Well you are the second person to call me an angel, for I met Derwent earlier who also mistook me for an angel, but I am afraid I must disappoint you both, for I am a very ordinary mortal.

    Oh I am not the slightest bit disappointed, smiled Phoebe. Here, she said, delving into the top drawer of a huge oak dresser, take these keys. I keep most of the rooms locked, for the place is so big and there is no need for all those rooms. Feel free to have a look around as you will. You will find your room prepared for you on the second floor, third room on the right.

    Franiel was surprised and it must have showed on his face.

    It is the room I keep ready for visitors. She chuckled. Most of the visitors I have here have no need of a place to sleep mind-you.

    These are the others you spoke of earlier? asked Franiel,curious. At that moment though Phoebe’s attention was distracted. She looked towards the window, which was wide open though there was a chill in the late afternoon air.

    Ah! there you are my lovely one! she cried, her face lighting up in delight as a large and colorful parrot flew in the window and landed on her shoulder.

    The bird squawked and cast a steely gaze on Franiel.

    Of course I will introduce you, said Phoebe calmly, Franiel, meet Vincentius.

    April 4, 2008 at 11:49 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #817

    How restless that dragon is, thought Arona. Always shifting this or that, always talking in his damn riddles. She thought fondly of Buckberry, and how peaceful and content he seemed by comparison.

    She was no longer sure where she was. She had gone over it a few times in her mind, but try as she might she could not make sense of Leormn’s cryptic explanations. Or that Malvina either, although at least she is a bit more pleasant about it.

    Anyway, wherever it is, it feels a bit grey, she decided matter-of-factedly. And I am missing the others, even that grumpy Mandrake if the truth be told.

    She closed her eyes and began to paint colours over the grey. She was not sure what to paint at first, so she just dabbed bright blobs of colour haphazardly onto her mind’s canvas. The colours began to run into each other and form shapes and it it seemed to her they wanted to take on a life of their own. So she let them, and it was not long before she found herself in a meadow of spring flowers.

    That’s much better, she thought, taking a deep breath and lying back in the soft green grass.

    :fleuron:

    As she lay there her mind drifted sleepily, butterfly thoughts every now and then resting on some bright petal in her field of flowers.

    Just living is not enough, said the butterfly as it danced by her head, one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower.

    Oh! said Arona excitedly, recognising the words from a far away time, You must be the butterfly of the story! The one my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl in the Village.

    Perhaps I am! danced the butterfly and it whirled and twirled and swirled in the sky.

    Arona rolled her eyes in exasperation. Now you sound a bit like that wriggly dragon. A simple yes or no would suffice.

    The butterfly landed on her nose. Now listen here you! Don’t go blaming me. I am YOUR imagination!

    Oh good point Butterfly, said Arona graciously. She pondered a moment … Well in that case …

    And next moment Mandrake, Vincentius and Yikesy were sitting in the meadow with her.

    Oh THERE you are Missy, said Mandrake. Might have known you would be lying around in some spring meadow leaving Vincentius and myself to look after your little sprog. Tsk Tsk, he tutted.

    hmmm, thought Arona, that’s not quite what I had in mind ..

    I would have said it’s exactly what you had in mind, whispered the butterfly, fluttering by her ear and then off again until it disappeared into the field of colours.

    Arona turned her attention to Vincentius and Yikesy, sitting a short distance away in the meadow. She noticed how smooth and golden Vincentius’ skin looked in the morning sunlight, and how deep and melodic his voice was as he told Yikesy one of his seemingly endless repertoire of stories. Imagining a gentle hug and a kiss on his sweet, but it had to be said incredibly ugly face, she sent Yikesy into a peaceful sleep.

    Oh great idea, smiled Vincentius with a wink. What I had in mind all along really. Perhaps you could also imagine Mandrake chasing a field mouse or something?

    April 10, 2008 at 11:48 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #822

    I’m wondering where Irtak and the twin dragons have gone… The thought just struck Leormn.

    They’d probably been exploring the outside of the cave of these past events… But they couldn’t afford staying here for too long. Not so much because of the chilling environment of the Marshes… In fact, as soon as they had all appeared here, they’d been at first mere translucent unfocused spirits, but the longer they stayed, the more they became physical and solid here.

    Georges and Salome had wished Malvina to see something here before their departure to other ventures.
    Possibly, the twins and Irtak were part of the plan too… Not to mention Arona

    If his calculations were correct, they had a little more than a hexade left before they would be completely merged into that timeline, and after that… It would be less easy to come back…
    That would require the mediation of the Guardians.
    And all things considered, Leormn was less than enthusiast about that solution.

    April 11, 2008 at 6:42 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #824

    Midora was perplexed. These books were like an open-ended uncharted territory. That territory was so vast and fractal-like in nature that each attempt at following a single thread seemed daunting. There were always details growing like a reckless plant from the entry points where she started her investigations. Badul seemed lost in this jungled maze.
    Last time she’d tried to connect, she ended up with another focus of his, a child, vaguely related to the crystal skulls hunt.

    All it requires is a proper compass to navigate the thought suddenly appeared in her mind as clear as daylight, carrying with it a trail of concepts and clusters of associated ideas.
    One in particular…
    She’d had that book of designs she’d always loved to read when she was a child. It was full of colorful symbols which were called by the authors “tiles”. The authors associated some properties to them, and she remembered one which was about a compass…
    So she had found a compass… Now, she would have to learn how to use it. The introduction of the book said:

    The tiles presented in this book all have different functions; they can be primarily understood as focal points which enhance specific uses of energy. […] As far as we know, they can be discovered in many situations, either objective events (e.g. something that catches your gaze in the street) or in the subjective (dreams, visions, inspirations etc.). In both cases, the recognition is instantaneous, as each tile carries a distinctive energetic signature which is the essence of its “function”, so to speak.
    As such, it can be used theoretically in both situations (subjective and objective), though, as far as we have explored, subjective interaction with them seem to be the easiest and most quickly rewarding way of accessing them.

    Subjective interaction, yes that was child’s play, she would have said, though she could vaguely understand why people before the Shift completed had more trouble accessing it. Objective wasn’t so difficult, once you get to the idea that it’s all one, and you can easily switch from each of the attentions used to focus on them.

    The only thing that doesn’t seem to change, she thought, is the numbering. Even when the events shuffle through the pages and reorder themselves, or even when the very energy of the event subtly changes, their numbers were the same. She could start with that.

    She cleared her mind, envisioning the compass, then took a deep breath and asked herself a question, Where do I find Badul?
    Slowly, the compass started to shift and turn, while numbers started to roll in front of her mind’s eye, and like a lottery, at each draw a number appeared, slowly revealing a number: 1-2-3-8

    She eagerly leafed through the books to find the reference. Well… that was more perplexing than ever, that seemed like a totally unrelated story.
    But now, she was not so sure about that, as she read the entry and wondered about the fact that it seemed once again different from the first time she’d read it.

    And now, she marveled as a new entry started to write itself under that one. It was the first time she actually saw an entry write itself. Those she had spotted that were not here before, she just assumed they had appeared instantaneously. But not this one… and it started to link Franiel’s and Badul’s explorations…

    May 10, 2008 at 7:06 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #854

    Of course I will introduce you, said Phoebe calmly, Franiel, meet Vincentius.

    That’s funny you say that, said Franiel recovering his marbles after a bit of an aghast moment. This name sounds oddly familiar… Is… he a talking parrot?
    Oh, yes of course, said Phoebe Chesterhope, though that’s not the least of its particularities she added with an eerie smile on her thin wrinkled mouth.
    The others, you said she snapped back, her gaze suddenly sharp as a sword. I suppose you’ll meet them, unless you’ve got already.
    I’m not sure to know what you’re talking about, Milady said Franiel slightly perplexed.
    Oh well, I can see from the clothes you are wearing that you’re coming from a place of peace and sainthood. This place is a haven too, in many ways. This place has been kept as such since a few centuries, and I intend it to stay that way. Though the Others are devising ploys always more clever to have a hand on this place. For that, I know how to keep a keen eye on what’s happening, she said with a troubling wink to her parrot.
    The valley is surely a nice place, said Franiel not sure of what he should say.
    To the contrary. It’s full of marauders if you ask me, but for good reason. Uleÿa’s valley is a place not easily reached, and there are not many portals around here. No official ones at least… So in a sense, it’s an exchange of good will between me and them.

    Franiel was not sure he wanted to delve more into all this intricate political web of alliances and plots, no more than he wanted to be involved in religious beliefs and fanaticisms…

    I can see you are a little troubled, but you’ll find your place in all these events, assuredly, Phoebe said gently. But be certain that whenever you are wanting yourself out of them, you sure will find yourself right in the midst of them, without you even knowing it.
    I only want to be a good man, and do the least evil in this World, I suppose finally answered Franiel after an awkward moment.
    This, I am sure is true… You know, I’m a little bit of a witch, I mean, intuitive person, and I can pick up images from yourself. I’m not sure about some of them, but most of them are as clear as the waters of Uleÿa. Take your time to feel at home around here. Vincentius will answer you if you need anything, in any case better than Lydia or Derwent.
    But… I mean no offense here, dear Lady,… Vincentius is but a parrot, isn’t it?

    Phoebe sighed for a moment then took Franiel by the arm, so quickly and firmly he didn’t see it coming, and couldn’t move, hypnotised by the firm grip of the woman.

    Listen carefully, my friend. I can see you can be trusted, as much as your mind is thirsty for the truth, so I will tell you. Vincentius is no mere creature. He’s the result of a little experiment I had once with a former guest of mine. Another divine being, as pure and innocent as you, going by the same very name of this creature. I captured a spark of his radiant aura, and mixed it with an egg I had kept for the occasion. And so it was born. A perfect spy, as well as a faithful friend.

    Franiel recoiled in horror… What have you done?!

    Oh, don’t be so dramatic, my young friend Phoebe said with a little giggle. No one has been harmed, and even if at times, there seem to be some side-effect when my former guest seems to see or speak through my parrot, it all has gone very well… And no, I don’t intend to do it to you… Don’t give me silly ideas, ahahah.

    May 16, 2008 at 8:04 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #888

    Franiel lifted the metal latch and pushed open the creaking door of the old shed. In the darkness he could make out of the shape of boxes and other various objects, then, as his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, he saw the motorbike propped up against the far wall.

    What are you up to young man?

    Franiel jumped and spun around. It was Lydia, just returned from her journey to the market.

    Oh hello again! You startled me … Phoebe suggested I check out the motorbike, see if I can get it going.

    Lydia looked grave. Did she now? Well it’s been many a long year since that piece of junk worked. Anyway so you’ve met Madame Chesterhope then, and what did you make of her? She was giving Franiel that deeply penetrating stare again. Franiel wondered kindly if perhaps she was shortsighted.

    Oh very nice … and I met Vincentius the parrot too.

    Lydia chuckled. Did you now?

    Yes, actually Phoebe told me a rather unusual story.

    At that Lydia broke into gales of laughter. Let me guess, about mixing the aura and the egg?

    Yes, that’s right, replied Franiel, his face breaking into a smile too as he realised the absurdity of it.

    Lydia wiped the tears of laughter from her face. ’Ere Lad, I told you things are not what they always seem. She thought for a moment. I’m parched from my long walk, I am going inside to make a brew. Why don’t you join me? If you are going to be stopping then there are a few things you need to know.

    July 2, 2008 at 3:03 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #961

    Much to Arona’s surprise…

    Although I don’t know why I am continually surprised, she thought, surely I am getting used to this weirdo story by now.

    Well anyway, Arona found herself standing outside of Malvina’s cave. She was still so caught up in the last warm remnants of her delightful reverie in the field of flowers it took her a few moments to realise that the entrance to the cave had disappeared and was now a solid wall of stone.

    Hmmmm, yes, said Leormn, appearing in the nick of time to answer her unspoken question, Yes, Malvina has been shifting things around again.

    I can’t get in though! complained the ever astute Arona.

    No, agreed Leormn reflectively, you can’t. Well there is another entrance, but this has only been disclosed to an elite few. He smiled smugly.

    July 2, 2008 at 10:11 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #963

    PPPSSST!

    Arona looked around, but couldn’t see anything. That sounded just like someone saying PPSSST, she said to herself.

    PPPSSTT! Over here!

    A large human form hidden behind voluminous dusty folds of indigo fabric was beckoning to her from behind a rock.

    Arona! Over here!

    Arona inched towards the apparition. Sanso? she whispered. Sanso, is that really you?

    Ahahaha yes, it’s me, and this is my new friend Zhana, he said, courteously introducing the two girls.

    I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, Arona. I know where the cave entrances are. You’re most welcome to come with us, if you’d like to. There are no closed entrances in MY cave. Er, Our cave, Sanso corrected himself. Well, MY cave. He laughed. You know what I mean, he said, We all know we each create our own caves, no need to keep droning on and on about it, eh, but what I mean to say is, if you’d like to share a perception of my cave with me, where there are no closed entrances (or indeed exits, depending on your direction and point of perception), you are most welcome to join us.

    Looking kindly down at Zhana, he continued: I’ll bet my young freind here would appreciate some young female company.

    We’re going to Nishanti’s place, Arona, said Zhana shyly. Would you like to come with us?

    July 14, 2008 at 9:06 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #974

    Malvina is outpouring love, sighed Leormn happily to Arona, with a little smile on his face.

    Arona rolled her eyes. Hmmph, well that is all very nice, but meanwhile I can’t get into the damn cave, which, quite frankly Dragon, would not worry me other than I am anxious to locate my friends.

    And then she burst into loud sobs.

    I have had a gutsful of you and Malvina and your shifting of things, she managed to gulp out eventually. Shifting this, shifting that! and nothing looks any better after all the damn shifting. I mean what on earth is the point of it?

    :yahoo_crying:

    July 14, 2008 at 10:59 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #975

    Well, now you mention it, sweetie, it’s quite funny because I was about to tell you the exact same comment… That may be a hint that at least our telempathic skills are slightly better when they are shifted, Leormn said with a draggle (that’s a dragon giggle)

    Arona could feel a warm blanket of his energy trying to reach her between her toes, but she felt so very ticklish, that she resisted a bit.

    Just keep it still, you snuggly dragon she managed to say between short laughs

    You’ll find your friends back, you know; that’s just that you now need to beat your drums for a while,… just as Malvina needed to. I meant to tell you, she can get pretty hot-tempered, and usually it’s not a pretty sight, so she prefers to put everyone out of the way; and frankly, even for me it can be hard to reach her through all these dark clouds grumbling in her head.

    I thought the others were in that darn cave too? said Arona in disbelief (for she knew dragon’s talks weren’t really to be trusted)

    Well, can’t you tell for yourself? You’re more than capable to tune your vibration to your friends if you want to. You are as far from your friends physically as you are from them in your vibrational offering to the Universe

    You look different dragon, looks like you’re not speaking like the Leormn I knew Arona shook her head to try to see between the mist of teal-smoke enveloping and twirling around her.

    All things change Arona, and you know that better than anyone. Simply trust your feelings, and reach for the new version of those things you thought lost. They may appear different, but you’ll know without a doubt that you’re where you want to, when your anguish has left place to that warm feeling of being in the place you want that you long for.

    July 15, 2008 at 12:02 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #976
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Yes well, muttered Arona, with a few loud sniffs for good measure, be that as it may Dragon, but I still maintain that this random shifting is just a waste of time and energy. I mean it is so DARK in there, and a bit smelly too from all those glukenitch droppings if the truth be told.

      She thought for a moment. She didn’t want to be rude, but these things had been on her mind for some time. Well .. she said kindly, realising that the Dragon may not have much idea of the finer points of interior decorating, instead of randomly shifting walls, why not install some good overhead lighting? .. and you could put some nice wallpaper on the walls…

      She began to warm to her task. Yes! Big flower wallpaper! or it doesn’t have to be flowers, anything you like .. but something nice and cheery. Oh! and some comfy furniture too, Dragon. Wouldn’t that be nice?

      Leormn looked admiring at Arona. Why hadn’t he thought of that? he wondered.

      July 15, 2008 at 12:14 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #977

      Well, shall we scratch all the glukenitches droppings first?, asked Leormn in winking dismay. You know, before we put the new wallpaper?

      A few seconds passed in silence. Naaah, just kidding. Have some paint please.

      And * pof * a few buckets of shiny flower-scented paintings pots appeared in front of Arona, with some nice brushes dipped in them.

      July 15, 2008 at 12:18 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #978
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        hmmm thought Arona, should she point out to the Dragon that she had not actually offered to DO the work … ?

        Then she realised …. this could be a way back into the cave to find her friends!

        Thank you Dragon, she said politely, wiping the last vestige of tears from her face. If you would just be so kind as to show me the way in I will begin.

        July 15, 2008 at 12:20 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #979

        Why not take that daffodil paint here, to paint a door, sweetie? Leormn said with the most charming toothy smile that Arona could hardly resist kissing the scaly face.

        July 31, 2008 at 10:40 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #994

        Hopefully, Al was not one to judge a work by the time it takes to produce.
        Actually, he was remembering a tale he’s been telling Sam no so long ago, about a Chinese painter who took years of training to be able to execute a painting in a single most perfect stroke. Only thing was that the Prince who had ordered him to paint this was offended when he saw him arrive empty-handed and drawing on the spot in what seemed the most easy, flowing movement that single painting, while he had been provided time and resources to the painter for so long. He had him executed, only for his servants to discover later that the painter’s house was full of tons of sketches.
        It is all a work of art, dear Tina

        Now, I get that you have found your favourite entries.
        Yes, entry number 2 .
        Okay
        Then, the one where Fiona changes her name to Finn, that has to be a significant one; that is 151
        Fine
        And 223 , when Arona gets given Yikesy

        Al pondered for a moment…

        August 8, 2008 at 11:38 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1022
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Arona put down her paintbrush and sighed loudly. She did not want to paint the walls of this damn cave. She wanted to find her friends.

          She closed her eyes and listened to the silence. She listened until she felt the edges of her body disappear and begin to merge with the darkness. And still she listened.

          At last she heard the voice.

          It’s easy. Just move.

          She felt the question start to form in her mind. As she asked it the edges of herself once again began to separate from the cave.

          Shhhhhhhhhh she whispered, because she liked this feeling of being part of the All.

          And without questioning, at least for now, she began to move.

          August 28, 2008 at 12:05 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1050

          Leörmn was erring through the corridors of his draggilish mind. Some of them were nicely painted he’d found, but apart from some friendly glukenitch glowing droppings, it all seemed a bit empty.

          Of course, connections were ever there, floating around, and could be summoned as easily as a pleasant memory in the spacious eternal present. But those were not memories the dragon wanted to interact with.
          Since they all had made that move of the cave anchoring point to the past, nothing was quite as it was. A truism of course, but sometimes you can’t do much more than state the obvious first, to be able to change it.

          The remnants of the dynemotical ström (another word for wortex, or intercrossing of dimensions, or whatever you want to call this mess) was only starting to fray, and it had left them all in a kind of depressed mood. Depressed, as in less pressure, and a bit deflated.
          As soon as he imagined the words, they became reality, for dragon speech is about the very essence of things, and it can make things be what they are said to be.
          And so he was now morphed into a deflated rubber skin of a dragon, sliding inside the tunnel doing proutish sounds that he tried to put together into harmonious music notes, to entertain the schpurniatz colonies.

          The notes started to take some funny foggy shapes and, using the painted walls as a partition, arranged some pretense of a sentence.

          Words seem lamp; gives lost Malvina soon damn door, telling unexpected…

          Mmm, a door? Of course, little sweet Arona had been painting a door, but why couldn’t he use it too?

          The key was in bridging with the past now… that much he could tell, and perhaps that door may help.

          August 29, 2008 at 11:24 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1051

          “That new door is funny” thought Leörmn
          “Well, I would have preferred you say it’s beautiful” he could hear the sweet voice of Arona answer grumpily.

          “That’s what I meant,” he answered “distinctively beautiful… And the ‘PEACE OFF’ on the door is a nice soft touch I must admit.”

          September 5, 2008 at 10:49 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1072

          This door is influenced by the energy you irradiate.

          You have to trust your energy in order for it to lead you to the most fulfilling place.

          Irtak drew his hand closer to the rippling surface of the door. Its aspect was so changing that it was like he was seeing all the tiniest elements that composed the matter, whatever it was. Hesitating, he asked Leormn.

          — Are you trying one of your tricks on me? It’s like I’m hypnotized.

          He’s not trying to lure you in… said Jeckle.
          The vibration you are currently feeling is the resonance of your energy with the one filtering through that door. said Heckle. I suspect it comes from another realm…
          But it is close to this one, Jeckle added. His muzzle quivered with excitement. I feel a friendly energy filtering from the other side.

          The waves of curiosity emitted by his friends were compelling, and Leormn could feel it. He himself was very interested by what he could feel was some kind of counterpart of himself. He was familiar with the energy but it was somewhat different from his own.

          Our strong desire is maintaining the door open. We can go safely through it and return in no time… he suggested in a soft persuasive tone.

          Arona, who was feeling a bit forgotten, grunted and added a tad dubious :
          — I’m not sure we should do it. We should tell the others… Where are they by the way?

          Apparently, the dragons and the boy were more fascinated by what was leaking out of her drawing. She’d been a bit surprised that one of her creations… if one could call the few brushstrokes a creation… that it could produce such an odd reaction. She couldn’t help but notice that the two words were anagrams.

          Leormn looked at her with a renewed interest.

          I’m feeling you are connected to that other realm, dear Arona. We all are in a way, but it’s like your lineage came from that… gate. Would you dare find out about your origin?

          She looked at him dubiously. His gaze was so intense that one moment…

          — Are you serious? she asked.

          He grinned… Who knows… if you don’t go you may never find out ;)) and I’m sure the others can take care of themselves when we are gone.

          Saying that he jumped on the other side like he was acting on a whim.

          The twins looked at each other and followed him… and Irtak was next…
          What was she to do?
          It was almost as if the door was staring at her. Challenging her… and she didn’t really like to be alone in these dark corridors.
          She jumped in and felt completely stretched out for what seemed a few seconds. She almost lost sense of who she was when an image started to form in her mind.

          It expanded until she was surrounded by a warm sensation of well being and lightness. She was completely safe in this place.
          A sudden woosh and a sensation of cold. She fell on the floor, her members suddenly failing her. The light was completely different and she couldn’t hear anything. Panic began to overwhelm her and she realized she couldn’t emit any sound either.

          As suddenly as it was gone, her sense of hearing reappeared.

          Who was shouting like that?

          AronaArona!

          The directedness in the tone was enough to make her recover her balance. She stopped shouting and began to notice her other senses… nothing particular at first, but she had the weird impression that it was different. Looking around her, she saw that the dragons were sniffing around like puppies and Irtak was following them like one of them.

          — Where are we? she asked Leormn.
          The sound of her voice was lower-pitched than usual, and Leormn started to laugh at her look of dismay.

          Hahaha! I don’t know yet… but we have all the time to discover.

          — Can’t we come back to the cave now? I don’t feel comfortable here… look at the sand, it’s purple… maybe it’s some kind of bacteria or something, maybe it’s contagious…

          He gave her one of those irritating wink. She was about to retort bluntly when she realized there was no way back.
          The door had disappeared.

          September 8, 2008 at 9:25 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #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.

          September 8, 2008 at 9:56 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1116

          “What a trickster that darn dragon” mumbled Arona, when she saw the door close behind her.

          “I hope Vincentius will take good care of little Yikesy, and Mandrake of Buckberry…”

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