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December 15, 2019 · 9:30 am

Snowlands >

“*There’s* our tea, April Mae. I thought I was going to have to ask to send your (6 prim) *gardener* away.”

“I’m not quite finished with him,” defended his wife of 7 years about keeping her vacation pal around a bit longer. “You have your smoking guns. What do you care?”

Herbert Gold couldn’t say anything to that. He looked down at the steaming hot tea in front of him. He’d have to wait to take a sip. April Mae put her own cup to mouth and slurped noisily, taking a deep draw. She was use to hot. She grew up in central Jeogeot.

“Well… I *do* like the house. It’s in the middle of everything, it seems. Middle of Meribel, middle of Snowlands. You know I’m use to middle, growing up in the center…”

“Yes,” interrupted Herbert. “I know.” He watched her slurp more while his own tea still wasn’t ready for his own mouth. “I *am* glad you like it, despite all else. But…” Herbert hung his head down. He couldn’t say it. April Mae said it for him.

“I know,” she attempted to comfort. “Rosehaven was perfect, I know.”

—–

He was going to dream of someplace else tonight. He was determined about it, did all the right preparations before bedtime. *Not* Rosehaven. But, as he was told, *negative* suggestions didn’t usually work. He couldn’t tell himself, over and over, *not* to dream about Rosehaven. He might as well say to himself to dream about it then. Instead he decided to suggest someplace warm. That would let Rosehaven and its current, wintery landscape out of the picture. But it brought into play some possibilities he didn’t particularly care about. Like jungle. April Mae would be at home there. Not him. So he decided instead of “warm” he would use the word “temperate.” He looked it up beforehand to make sure. Temperate climates indicates *mild* temperatures. Not too hot, not too cold. A goldilocks clime. He finally fell asleep at 2:01 AM…

—–

“Aah, North Yd. Shouldn’t known.” But North Yd was no longer a wasteland village but simply a wasteland period. The Tiler Church was no longer here. Zoidboro didn’t have a place to preach any more.

Yes, he realized. He was looking for Zoidboro. And possibly his guy-gal pal Patrick Starr as well. Better head up the cliffs to see Sally. Both of ’em. Get the scoop on what happened to North Yd.

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December 15, 2019 · 8:45 am

Snowlands

While he was in this confined space with limited view, Herbert Gold liked to increase his draw distance so he could see the mountain. One day, not far down the road, he was going to climb that mountain.

Yes, this place for his house would work. April Mae should be arriving tomorrow from the Omega continent, vacation with gardener in tow *over*. Thank God. But he can’t speak much about that… because of Merry.

“Merry, Merry, Merry,” he lamented, looking at the computer screen again and contemplating when to dump the smoking gun *this* time.

A noise (a *plop*?). He opens the other door to his study.

But no wee ones here. He misses them. He’ll ask Baker Bloch if there’s any way possible to bring them back.

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December 14, 2019 · 9:11 am

switch

I visited the old quarry first this night time trek. It was snowing harder here. It was always snowing harder in the quarry. A large dragonfly dipped down from the flake filled sky and hovered before my eyes. Dragonflies in snow. More mysteries.

—–

Meanwhile in Sansara’s Snowlands, Herbert Gold was checking out the location of his newly set up house/mansion over there. “Piano,” he declared, sitting down at it. “Just like Baker Bloch said it was.” He played a tune he thought would cheer him up. *Not* a Booger Hayes piece. He’d learned his lesson on that.

The aberrant notes hid underneath the upstairs sink, biding their time.

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December 14, 2019 · 8:45 am

no up

“What about the king?” I asked a little later, remembering that he is still groundside.

“Don’t touch the king.”

Petunia then suggested I talk a walk to calm my mind.

“Don’t worry,” he said while seeing me off toward the ferry. “Goodbye!”

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December 14, 2019 · 8:12 am

up 02

Petunia had the answer. At least a temporary one. “You’ve brought the house up, good,” he purred in his mysterious, cat-like voice. “Now you must bring the *rest* up of importance. The house, the church, the *tree*,” he emphasized.

—–

“There,” he declared, moves seemingly over. “Doesn’t that feel *better*?”

Turns out the house, the church, but especially that tree, were attracting the wee ones, Ruby Fantasie the Jamacian witch, and who knows what else. Red balls fell from the sky as I was taking ground shots today. Now, yes, it felt better. We asked him the next step.

“You wait.”

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December 14, 2019 · 7:10 am

up 01

“At the very least, Herbert Gold, I had to move your house. I believe it’s jinxed!”

“The *house* — *my* house; *OUR* house — is not jinxed. It — just doesn’t have a proper home yet.”

“I’ve successfully set it up back in Snowlands now,” I replied to the disappointed, tired, aging man sitting across from me, his tea finished like mine. We were in the house, true. In Rosehaven still, yes. But way up in the sky now. More to be seen *here*, but not down below.

Then I had a realization. We need to talk to Petunia, I suggested.

“Ring him up.”

Petunia came right over.

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December 13, 2019 · 5:34 pm

Flock and Feather

“*You* again,” Jane the barmaid spoke across the counter, not seeming very pleased to see Magus Ellen once more in her place of business. “Where’s, um, your sidekick this time?”

“Sidechick? He couldn’t make it.”

“Are you going to ask about that castle again?” added Jane rapidly, not wishing to talk any more than needed to this — *intruder*.

“Nah, all that’s done.” He waves his hand in gesture.

“Because all that investigation last year got you *banned* from the property.”

“I know.”

“And *your* Princess is not *our* Princess. I’ve found out some things in the meantime. Who is this Merry Gouldbusk? Why is her skin colored gold and not normal? Who are King Tully and that Queen of his? Not *our* rulers (once more). Never have been and never will.”

Nothing more seemed to be said. Magus Ellen rose from the stool. The castle was gone, or at least changed — morphed. This was not Murdochh’s Castle in resonance with the Loch Ness castle any more. *That’s* when it changed, he realized. A moment in time. He thought from this video that *Murdock’s* castle in the realm of Rosehaven was open to the public. Apparently it was all a misunderstanding.

That’s an important key. Misunderstandings can be smoothed over. He donned his hat.

“I will speak to the Princess before leaving,” Magus Ellen then called back while walking away.

“Make sure it’s the *right* one!” she insisted with bile. The door slammed behind him.

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December 13, 2019 · 5:05 pm

penultimate (again)

“I’m afraid I may have to leave, Hucka D. This Rosehaven is not my Rosehaven. My Princess is not their Princess.”

“How ’bout this. You call *your* Rosehaven Rose*heaven* instead. Or Rose Haven — two words instead of one.”

“Maybe.” Baker Bloch, in character as a uniformed Ellen now, perhaps ready to revisit the… he can’t remember the name of the pub Magus Ellen and Sidechick Corea visited last year trying to dig up information about Murdochh’s castle. He tells Hucka Doobie this.

“I’ll go check,” she says, then teleports out.

—-

Hucka Doobie teleports in. “The Flock and Feather,” she informs.

“Probably doesn’t matter anyway… but thanks.” Baker Bloch stares out in the distance. If only The Mist would roll in right now and make all this better.

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December 13, 2019 · 9:34 am

another visitor

“Aahh, found it. This must be the portal.” A squeaking occurred. Rules of Rose looked around for a mouse. Then she remembered Norris. Just outside. He was speaking in his high register way. She adjusted for the tone, understood what was being said. He was asking about the portal.

“Just found!” she shouted through the window pane, painfully confusing in the double transparency with the Live Oak tree limb. “Why don’t you —” She was going to ask why didn’t he come in and see for himself. Then she remembered the rule. The rule *she* imposed, after all. No entering private residences by the wee’s. But *she* was here. She had that right — another rule. “Here.” She angled the laptop toward the window. “Can you see it now?” She understood that Norris requested she hold it in her hands up to the window. “Now how am I going to *type* on it if I’m *holding* it?” she inquired, staring out at him with a grimace. She edged the laptop a little closer — it was in danger now of falling off the side of the table if care wasn’t taken. Which it will be. Rules of Rose was always careful when entering residences, a seldom used loophole. But this was a special case. She had to find a certain object or thing inside the portal, which was the game in front of her, she realized. Gunn Mobile Trailer Park: Your Darkness. The gunn itself?

You may remember Rules of Rose as Blue Berry Girl from the last photo-novel, in disguise for the sake of a plot. She’s usually in disguise. This time ’round she gave her purple color to the bear.

Half an hour until the 1st service held at neighboring St. Merry’s Church ends and Herbert Gold returns to his new home. Probably not enough time to find the needed object. She’ll have to come back. Might as well end now….

—–

An object appeared in the middle of St. Merry’s church out of nowhere. Many parishioners later reported that they heard a *plop*, as if it fell from the sky.

Herbert Gold recognized what it was but said nothing.

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December 13, 2019 · 7:58 am

truth

“Tea sir?”

It was Alberta the Selenite butler behind him. He was always there, at the back of the hearth. Waiting to serve. Selenite, huh? Mssr. Gold thought. Wonder if there’s a connection…

… for he had just finished up re-reading photo-novel 12 on the house media feed, where the Rosehaven-Caledonia fictional universe was conceived. The one that featured Merry Gouldbusk as Princess-Queen, *not* the actual Princess ruler of Rosehaven. That would be Selena. In the universe of the here and now, where Caledonia is not Caledonia but Caledon, the somewhat larger micro-continent just south of Rosehaven. At the end of photo-novel 12 the two lands were united again, just like in olden days. I’d have to check back but I’d guess when Rosehaven was called Winterfell, the name changed several years ago to distance Selena’s realm from the Winterfell region in “Game of Thrones,” growing beyond cult status at the time to achieve universal recognition. Enough, said the Princess. She tired of telling outsiders that this was *not* a “Game of Thrones” role playing region. And so Rosehaven was born from Winterfell in Our Second Lyfe.

On the official Realm of Rosehaven blog, under the Chronicles header, you’ll find a good number of fictional stories about Rosehaven already, most of a much more serious and detailed look at the land and people populating it than my own. But a cool link is a concept called The Mist (or Myst or Mists, et al), an agreed upon unifying element that actually hides (or can hide) Rosehaven from the rest of Our Second Lyfe for protection (if needed). But like all powerful agents, The Mist has a darker side. Princess Selena herself is a product of The Mist, having shown up at her aunt’s door out of the blue in 2012, a physical manifestation of its trickster aspect, it seems.*

And so now, as a land owner in Rosehaven, I’ve had dealings with the real Princess. Dare I tell her of my fake ruler: Princess Merry Gouldbusk? And then there’s Ingo, her fake big brother who also rules after the death of their mother and father, the King and Queen (also fake).

Then there’s the curious, little detail of a storyline by Merri(Kat) in the official Rosehaven chronicles. Interesting wormholes here, with more to be found I’m guessing. How far have the wayward fingers of The Mist penetrated? All the way to… Earth?

*footnote:
By this I mean *The Mist* is a trickster at times, *not* Princess Selena, who seems to be a decent and wholesome elven type being all around from what I’ve read and heard! Direct quote from the blog post on her origins, then. Serra Anansi, her mother, is the speaker:

A baby in a basket?! The Mist?! And then I suddenly remembered making an off-handed joke at Mr. Drinkwater’s rez day party about having a baby. I do like to see him sweat and try to be diplomatic about such outlandish things and you know how wonderful he is at finding the most ingenious ways to divert the conversation to more proper topics.

I ran to the window, still able to see the very last fingers of The Mist evaporating on the horizon and I called out to it “I WAS KIDDING!!!!”

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