Category Archives: 0408
the Long and Yd of it
It was a particularly clear day at the library castle in the skies, kind of completed tonight, or as much as I want to flesh out right now. You see, this is a window into the past. Or the future. Man About Time stands before a portal. He’s on Rooster’s Peninsula. Several other castles *could* be seen in the distance — both west (the titular Roost Never Sleeps) and south (Arkaig) — if only the fog were just a little less thick. It never is; this is as good as it gets. And so Man About Time — MAT — enters the castle to oblivious folk who don’t really know where they are, and, by this point, don’t really even care. But one thing’s for certain. It’s not just a library any more. It’s a fortress, a Center Point that Collagesity desperately needs in the present. Because the Temple of TILE just wasn’t hacking it in that role.
MAT’s looking for a particular entity, let’s say, a Man who is also a Rump, and a big one at that, really big. His Huge Ass plane almost grazed the top of the temple after he moved it from lowest to highest in the village about, oh, about 2 months back I suppose (CHECKING). Yes: a little over 2 months. He wants to give him a piece of his mind if he can find him. He understands he could be locked up in a key-less cage because he is the key himself. But where?
Back to the library to start his investigations, he decides on the spot. The castle gate raises in response.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0408, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula
whitewashed (no sun (Princess))
Alysha had that dream where she was stuck on the moon. Back to reality, yikes!
Earlier:
“Sure you don’t want a shot at riding the bull, sweety?” asked handsome Field who had ditched his hat. “10 seconds and we’re in.” This was an audition, she understood. A role in an important important film yet to be made, yet to be thought of, even. ‘All hail the Wild White Whale,’ she recalled, and now kind of knew more about what it meant. This was no bull.
Black cat Gar looked on, understanding the same.
—–
“Is this thing even working? Testing, testing…”
Good thing she’s a multi-instrumentalist.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0408, Hana Lei^^
Charlie
“We died on that line,” spoke White Mage, rid of cursed blue and red. Now only purity. “That’s why we can go back and forth back and forth, not worrying about time.”
“Or space,” she dutifully finished, applying the last of her makeup.
But in truth she wasn’t ready to commit to death. She felt this could be an anomaly, a once in a lifetime opportunity. After all, the red still applied to her lips, the blue to her eyelids. They were still *fixed* in ways. She turned. “Pucker up, white boy.” If the red transferred to him, then (this world) might be real.
—-
later; downstairs:
She *thinks* it worked. She had fun trying anyway. She crossed her legs, prepared for whatever. “Turn around again, *Brend*. Let’s see.”
Bell is serial
“Honey?”
“Yes, Homie.” So raspy. She was between compositions now, deciding what to play next at her beloved pink upright.
“Do we know anyone named Wells, as in well well well?” The internet search had rung a bell. “Indian Wells”, the name on several of his daughter’s records, the stuff he couldn’t stomach in the least. “Well Well Well, If It Isn’t Indian,” was a particular (comeback) album that stuck out for him. He set aside the pictures of donuts for just one minute and tried it.
“*Well, Homie, they were our next door neighbors for 15 years is all.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, the musical family. The ones you couldn’t stand.”
“I can’t stand *any* of our neighbors.”
“Well you should get to know them better… obviously. They moved away I suppose, hmmm, about 5 years ago. Right before…” She stopped. She didn’t want to talk about Bartholomew and how he left in the middle of the night after declaring all of them 2 dimensional and unreal. He’d had enough. Now he’s sorry and wishes to return to the good graces of the father especially. But Homer would have none of it — sic Itchy the family dog on him if necessary to chase him away again. But Bartholomew is still trying, with new boss Alysha’s urging. Maybe it wasn’t worth it to keep knocking on and beating on and pleading through a front door that would remain locked, doorbell never rung. Because *Lisa* knew how to ring the bell, making their hearts sing. Wild thing remains ostracized, despite Lisa’s support. She’s in touch with Alysha as well; wonders about her change from black to red hair. My cousin dyed her hair red, she ponders one night while listening to the adored, atonal croonings of Indian Wells again on her pink record player upstairs, Primary Rabbit and a peculiar, sticky-outy potted plant between them. Made her wild as well… like Bart. She imagines embracing him again, pretending he is real and standing before her. The little yellow fellow, always smaller than her despite the age advantage. He told his father that he was going to straighten his life out, stop going in circles forever and ever and that he knew he was in a rut. But his father was too much like him and wouldn’t listen.
“I’m going to shut the computer off now,” he rather shouted over to Marg, who had started again. She stopped and imagined them switching places, she at his computer and he at her piano. What would *he* compose? Something like Indian Wells? Wouldn’t that be just.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0408, Bellisaria
little one (backs turned again (hidden in corn))
“I don’t belong here,” he said to friend Horace later on down at the docks in a kind of goodbye. “I’m not who I seem.” The wheels in his head kept spinning ’round and ’round.
—–
We go one outfit up for the next section: Harrison Ford Jett. We return to Collagesity and its Boos Gallery with Fern and him.
“So the taijitu ball was rolled over, giving the Mouse another head to replace the one just crushed like a…”
“… goose egg,” finished Harrison. Fern stared at him, wondering how much he knew about McCoy.
“The meteor, yes. Impach. Let’s move over to the Power Tower now — want to show you another baker b. work.” Things were different now, she realized. De ja boom and paths change. She’s glad, because she misses Harrison. And those apples.
—-
But for Harrison Ford Jett, Fern never made it over to the Power Tower. Alone, he stares into the eyes of hate.
Where is he (*panic*)?? Oh: there.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0408, Collagesity Fordham, Kowloon^^, Lower Austra^, Nautilus
rant rave
—–
Afterwards:
“No, it was really great, Peter.” Blue Pennant this time. Billie had run to the grocery store before departing for northern Nautilus and picked up a can. 9 big puffs later and the flavor hadn’t lost its zing. Not yet. “But what’s all this stuff about red being serious and blue being comedy?”
“It’s *all* comedy, Uncle. Red vs. Blue is suppose to be funny.”
“I don’t get it. Maybe I’m too *red*, hmmm.” Suddenly the Blue Pennant wasn’t as satisfying. A couple more inhales and he’s done.
—–
“Mind the dead stick figures on your way out!” Peter called in parting.
“I will!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0408, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus
introducinnnng
Duncan was often very busy with his Pot-D assignments, letting George explore VHC City and its environs on his own. Lone stipulation from Duncan, basically: stay within The Sphere. George had worked out the geodesic dimensions very well down through the years now. Tronesisia and her computer mind had helped in the olden days, before the coming of rain. Now it always seemed to rain, for example, in the PCH Forest (partly within The Sphere) owned by Clare Nova, one of the 4 famous Nova siblings — the Supernovas they were called; again back in the day. George had met Clare but not a lot. She gave him permission to wander around the PCH Forest, the structures within. One thing (stipulation again): don’t eat of the fruit from the tree in the center of the woods. We know where this comes from.
George often wondered what *exactly* is that tree in the center of the woods. There were many trees here, and none seemed more central than the other, at least at the beginning. He knew The Diagonal ran through the forest. If only Mistress Clare was around more to query, he lamented.
Charlie, however, was always around. The Banana.
“Fruit at the center of the woods,” he pondered with the 13 year old one evening outside the main house. “No idea.”
George couldn’t see what was sitting in front of his very eyes.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0408, Heterocera, VHC City^
reverse mode still
I got out of the car the black dog was driving. He exited too, went over to the skeletons playing cards with themselves to sniff for more clues. I was told to touch something. I tried and tried and finally found the right object. Everything swung into place.
So that’s where the magic will happen, I thought while staring over at the chair. Or un-magic; removal. They’ll start with the head, they told me. Remove the black until I am white as a flower, menace no more. But did I believe them? I could call the black dog back over from the skeletons and high tail it out of here if I wished. I still could back out; I had that option.
—–
“Jenny,” he exclaimed, looking over at the crashed ship in Wallytown. Better phone up Wheeler and tell her the bad news.
—–
“But Speck and Crazy *saw* it,” the tinny voice came just later over the phone. “It landed at Castle Town.”
“Nope,” I countered. “The witnesses were wrong.” Just like with us.
—–
The wrong one walks into the Castle Town bar to meet her mates.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0408, Marwood, NWES Island^, Omega^^, Southern, Wallytown/Fishers Island^
butterflies 02
“I feel like I’m at a dead end, Wheeler.”
“Hold still, please,” requested Wendy Wilson Wheeler, painting flowers instead of Baker Bloch but not telling him this.
“It’s just…”
“Are you not happy that I finally found my husband?” Significant pause. “Because I lost him for a while.” She decided to paint the blooms the same color as her skin this go around. *She* is blooming. Is that good?
“Sure, sure, er, Wheeler.” Wendy had stopped asking him to call her by her character name. She is Wheeler, true. And she’s found her Axis. “What of, um, the other one?”
“You know who the other one is, *blog leader*.”
“Sure, sure, eh, Blob? he he.”
“Listen, I can keep them both. I’m a big girl. I can have more than one [boy].”
“Is it fair to *them*, though?”
“They’re the same. What do I care?”
“What *do* you care? I mean, you already had Tr-oop. Opp, Tropp.”
“I like to play one off the other. It makes me feel… important. Needed. I am Queen of Our Second Lyfe. But you are not the King. You are like… a Prime Minister, yes; with all the useful stuff, the power. I am more a figurehead.”
“Can I move now?” Baker Bloch’s neck was beginning to hurt. He’d stood in the same place too long. 156/156. Right on the Diagonal of the sim they’re in, and the only place in the room it falls on. So he has to stay, and Wheeler tells him this.
“You are at a dead end,” she reinforced after a while, washing her paintbrush of pink in the turpentine jar. “It’s time for the witches to take over.”
Earlier:
“Okay I’m done with this one. Let’s move to the other side. More light.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0408, Omega^^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^
Sunklands 