Parasol had much to study.
Fire tree, old quarry, Purple Bear. There was still time to switch from red to blue but the hourglass was about to turn over.
The dance was over for Purple (and) Bear. The robot stopped playing.
And… *begin*.
Category Archives: Estate
move up
Late Friday evening reports of The Mists rolling through the Realm trickled in, and in the morning of Saturday, the explorers of Rosehaven confirmed that the region known as Rosehaven Serenity had up and moved to where Rosehaven Anodyne was. The whereabouts of Rosehaven Anodyne is anyone’s guess, perhaps it needed a holiday and set off to waters unknown. Please update your personal charts and maps to reflect this change. An officially updated map is being drawn up as we speak.
Donald was disappointed that his whisky drink he so enjoyed last winter had, in the meantime, disappeared from the extensive list of alcohols offered here at The Cup and Harp.
“I”ll have a, er, bourbon,” he said. “Some kind of bourbon; any kind.” He couldn’t quite mask his disappointment to the bar maid, one Felicia McApplebaum from Rosehaven Serenity. They’re still getting over the mysterious disappearance of a whole sim called Rosehaven Anodyne over there, she relayed to the still sober Donald Farr when he returned for a second. The alcoholic content of the Kentucky bourbon seemed to not be matching that of the Pennsylvania whiskey he loved. “Make it a double this time,” he requested, determined to get some kind of decent buzz off the stuff. And it was here that Donald learned the first name of the bar maid and learned where her home was in the kingdom/queendom and the queer story of the disappearance of a whole, neighboring sim back in May as he downed the drink in two long draws. Rosehaven Anodyne was, then, present when Donald visited last year for his annual winter vacation. “The mist, eh?” he spoke about the claimed culprit, deciding to stay at the bar a while instead of returning to his lonely booth. He began wondering if Felicia had a husband or boyfriend or significant other. Maybe *he* could fill this role if not. It was also then he realized the alcohol was sneaking up on him from behind, a surprise rush to the head. Kentucky is not Pennsylvania. Alcoholic drinks affect one in different ways. Much like flowers of the world, some bloom later than others. Such is the case with Bee McCabe’s Special Stock distilled in 1919, a good year for such, and coming just before Prohibition in the Blue Grass State, a year earlier than the country’s Prohibition, explained Felicia McApplebaum to the swimmy eyed Donald only a minute later, his pupils now big as a 1920 Kentucky Anti-Prohibition Alcohol Token. “Marry me, Felicia,” he blurted out before losing his balance against the counter and collapsing onto the Irish Green floor.
McCabe’s Kentucky bourbon would be his drink of choice from now on. But never a double again and always sipping slooooly.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0107, Rose Heaven-
deeper
Aunt (Golden) Josephine goes to the cemetery to pay her respects and receives a surprise.
“Aah. Tully you old rascal. Dug up again.” Josephine shakes her metallic head, making it slightly rattle. Something gold was loose within. “They should have never allowed that passage in the memoirs mentioning wanting to be buried with the ring, tsk tsk tsk.”
“Good thing I dug you up *first*.” She slips it on, stares forward across the bay. “Now who would take the whole *body* this time. Full cavity search?”
She can see it in her mind’s eye now.
A bear? she thinks. Purple? Aah, must be Purple Wolverine changing shapes again, she realizes with higher insight once more. Hiding out at the old quarry ’til things simmer down, huh? Well… *two* can play that game.
She removes the ring before more ill will is done to her soul. She knows enough for today.
Time to report this grave robbery to the authorities. Ironic that Purple Wolverine use to be the local authority. Before the mist got him.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0106, Rose Heaven-
island
He doesn’t even know I’m looking in, listening. He stands there by the fire, trying to stay warm. Oblivious.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0105, Rose Heaven-
castle
“She’s always hanging around, Parasol. It gets annoying.”
“She has just as much right to hang around here as you — us.” Parasol points to Ingo across from her and then herself and then back and back again to reinforce. “You better put your sphere back on. You’re getting weak already.”
“Alright.” He does as Parasol told him. The witch hovering outside the window suddenly flitters off, soon landing on a summit just below. As if the sphere drove her away. And perhaps it did.
She’s at the fire tree now,” spoke Parasol, standing up to get a better view.
“She’s always at the fire tree,” returned Ingo, back in form. “She’s up to something. Norris say…”
“Norris?” queries Parasol (not back in form).
—–
After Parasol left, Ingo decides to teleport down to the tree for further investigation. But no sign of the cat-witch. It *could* have something to do with Purple Wolverine, thinks Ingo, looking further down toward the roughly circular island below and its lone residence. It’s time for a visit anyway. See what he’s been up to. Make sure he’s in line with the code still. What a mischief maker!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0104, Rose Heaven-
Rosehavened
Donald Farr so looked forward to visiting Rosehaven again come winter.
The King was dead but the castle remained. Ingo ruled all now. The Prince who was also King. King-Prince. He liked it that way. He didn’t want to identify with the father too much.
The dryad’s pond on the way to the castle.
It could be that he’s never going back this time.
What’s this? Donald Farr doesn’t remember the object, although he explored extensively in the area last winter.
A wee person’s home(!). Wee people in Rosehaven. “Well I never,” Donald Farr had to utter at the door he couldn’t enter. He’d have to be at most two feet tall, he estimated.
Later, in the gazebo across from the ruined village below the castle, he ponders what he saw there. He’s got two cold feet but he isn’t scared.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0103, Rose Heaven-
pattern
My Mission for tonight. Thank you Braynard!
—–
I’ve seen the central figure before, Axis thinks after flipping over all the cards. Red Umbrella. All turning their back on me.
Axis wonders if he could turn his own hand into Heterocera. That would make him, as a whole, let’s see…
Axis hovers this hand over his heart, as if he could feel something beating in there once more.
—–
Yes, here it is, he thinks later, returning to NWES for more of his fun. And *this* cave must be *my* cave. My new coffee shop, yes.
He worships Lu Ellen again before entering.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0608, Black Ice, Braynard's Place-, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island
JuliaN
“Two Joint Joints, side by side. One in Gaston — here. The other: NWES. How could this be?” Then Greg Ogden remembers who he is, deep down. He loses the hair, the campy hobo shirt. The Red Cross returns.
He recalls bastard pirate Randolph two (motel) doors down, not one to cross by any means.
4×4: it was all coming back to him.
He has to reach Climax.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0603, Gaston+
DEAD End Street
He wasn’t budging, this Big Black Smoke. “I have as much right to be here as you, red boy,” he declared from his cheap, green box seat. “You ain’t paying no rent.” He settles back, crosses his arms behind his head. “Neither am I.”
Greg Ogden argued that he is about to pay the rent but is still trying the apartment out at times.
“Times what?” replies the larger, black man. “42?”
Greg didn’t know the answer to that. He didn’t know everything. He remained silent, contemplating whether to leave. But *he* had as much right to be here as Big Black Smoke. This remained a stare down for now. He told him that.
“Hey,” then declared BBS. “You ain’t that red dude who’s going to marry that red haired gal in the church next door this coming Sunday? She’s been talking about you. About how you become cross sometimes.”
Greg said he wasn’t this person, although he likes to dress in red. Greg Ogden explains that he use to be a red mechanoid playing in a punk band with 2 other, differently colored mechanoids. “We got kicked out of Olde Lapara Towne due to a noise ordinance,” he furthered. “We came here to escape, to *hide* and regroup. But this place…”
“I know I know,” responded Big Black Smoke, looking around at all the red walls surrounding them. Like a cell. “This place changes you.” He was starting to feel sorry for the boy. “You know Golden Jim, the police chief? Don’t confuse him with Golden Joe. That’s a chef. You see what I mean about this town, boy? This New (Lapara) Towne? Same as the old town, hmph.”
Greg says he’s trying to leave but can’t. “Stewart’s dead,” he offered, nodding toward the window with the bay view. “Newton owns that ship out there now. That’s his brother.”
“I *know* who Newton is.” Big Black Smoke resisted the urge to call him ‘fool’, but he’s certainly trying to step off a ledge now. “You can’t leave once you stay here long enough.” Big Black Smoke had figured out who Greg Ogden was, and that this was his old apartment. Golden Jim had told him about the 2 Greg(g)s, one with the extra ‘g’, or, better (explained Golden Jim), the ‘g’ *stolen* from his last name. This theft bought him some jail time. Golden Jim wasn’t here then, but, again, this was legend. Like the day Pierre Schaeffer rode into town and stole all the Berries and took them off to La La Land. Even nimble Thimble couldn’t escape. Ahh, Thimble, thought Big Black Smoke, traveling back further in time to a thinner physique. Those were the days. The Dark Ages. I wish those old times could return. But Pierre changed all that. Him and the eye guy.
“This is *Jasper*, fool.” Big Black Smoke couldn’t help himself. “You’re stuck as much as those *flies* over in Central Park!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0602, Gaston+
Belt
He was having a dream again of that planet. Totally red, totally rusty. He was looking for Stewart this time, but Stewart had passed on to another realm. The Land of the Living. Because, in the dream, *he* was instead dead, trying to make his way back from, shall we call this Hell? No, Greg Nash Ogden corrected himself while staring around. Too luminescent, he decided, to be that place of anguish and gnashing of teeth. But certainly red like that place. No fire, though. Better wander around while I have my wits.
He eventually stumbles upon the underground base, vast in size.
A robotic weapons factory, at least in part.
But no food. He realizes he might starve down here. To life?
He receives a name on a back wall. Mars.
Greg Ogden wakes up, his mouth dry as desert.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0516, Gaston+, MARS
Sunklands 