The Rhode Gallery is no more in the Omega continent’s Meat City
Former Fenfarg neighbors (w/ “swastika windows”)
But, across the *road*…
… the sim of Rhodenwald certainly still is, thank God.
“I know who you are.”
Category Archives: Omega
Big Orange
flashback friday
The Zindra continent has been through a similar (North-South) war, pondered Grey Scale, leaving Chesteria behind for now. I can pattern my strategy after that. There’s even a direct character link between the two. Dixon 01. Or was it Dixon 02? Anyway, both are dead now. Or are they totally alive? One way to find out: visit the old homestead.
—–
“Dixon? Dixon Klancaster?” she shouts back on the ground.
But both Dixons were indeed dead, having been one and the same. Snowwhite Well appears on the landing outside the squatter home, old and withered now. She’s basically turned into Maw herself, mother of the two. But formerly: married to the two. It was complicated.
“Whatcha want? Tithes? You a tithe collector? I’ve gaven my fair share last month. Now, run along, tithe collector. Or do I have to sic my *chickens* on you. She turned toward Gander, the largest of the bunch. “Been a while since you’ve tasted human flesh, Gander eh? Fondness grows in absence they say, eh?”
“Listen,” bargained Grey Scale. “I don’t want any of your money.” Not yet, she tacks on for herself. “No I’m here to speak to Dixon.”
“Dixon?”
“The former warrior. The vet of the Trojan-Durexian Wars over on Zindra.”
“God *knows* I know where they were *fought*, foreigner. Everyone around here knows. We all lost peoples.”
“I’m sorry,” backed down Grey Scale. “I didn’t know…”
“Anyway. He’s dead. Dixon. Both of ’em. I married ’em. Shortly after the war. But the bees and their massive beehives got them in the end. Not a bayonet stinger, a *stinger* stinger. Irony perhaps — I’ve heard that word applied here anyhows.” She takes a better look at the grey figure standing proud below her. “You a woman of words, sister?” she inquires. “Maybe you can help me with some words I’m trying to read in a section of this here book. ‘Moby Prick.’ You may have heard of it.”
Grey Scale Kimball was up on the landing faster than a fly on wheels. A chance to analyze her favorite book with someone (!). But she quickly corrected elderly Snowwhite Well on something before entering. “It’s *chapters*, not sections. I should know, having read or attempted to read so many of the latter lately.”
“Fine with me, woman of words. Now — inside before the chickens peck at your tail feathers, hehe.” She swats Grey Scale on the behind and sends her reeling inside.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0313, Horns of Hatton+, Maebaleia/Satori, Omega
dolls
Geez, what a pathetic prop. Grey intestines look *nothing* like that.
On to the interesting subjects… just around the corner.
Ahh so. An actual living, breathing vein and artery person. Thanks to *us*. And then her sister, but without the internal circulating system. Sorry, Girl 01. The sister — Girl 02 — will have to remain on the ship. But *you*…
—–
“I was a girl with long, spindly legs,” spoke Misty Felton to her new bestest friend Sep Felton back at the latter’s apartment (125 Wall Lane, Wallytown). They hadn’t determined a blood relation, if there was one to be found. To Sep, that left the door wide open to… experimentation.
“Interesting,” Sep replied. “I always imagine horses. It affects people different ways. So I take it you like the dance… oh, silly question; you were gyrating just as hard as I was during the heated moments. But not as hard as Molly, tee hee. A better question would be, what didn’t you like about the dance? Personally, I was a little disappointed that Molly was glitter-free by the end. But it’s a small criticism. How about you?”
Chatty again, Misty thought. But with that nice, pleasant tone. Still probably makes up for it. Yes, it turns out that Molly’s routine involves *one*, count ’em, one dance throughout, but with many variations of themes tried. On and on the music went, a combination of Pink Floyd’s “On the Run” and Judy Garland’s theme song “Over the Rainbow,” as Sep explained. Being from 1920, Misty wasn’t familiar with either. Combined title: “OTR” of course. Born to be mashed up, as Sep also said.
“I can’t think of anything,” Misty offered to Sep’s question, hoping to switch the subject back to the spindly legged girl. And the sister. What *were* their names? It was right on the tip of her tongue.
Just when she was thinking this, Sep leaned over the counter separating them and pecked a kiss on the lips fronting said tongue. It took her breath away. But it wasn’t unpleasant. On the contrary… “You know I may be your great grandmother or something,” she said to put some distance between them again.
“Nope,” spoke Sep. “We ruled all that out. We called Mom… we traced our ancestry back 4 generations. Thanks to Uncle Bert as well. (The name) Sep’s just a coincidence.”
Hmm, pondered Misty. She decided to reintroduce the subject bothering her more than anything. She was a little irritated that Sep had skipped over it so quickly. It seemed super important to her. Horses… why did the music invoke horses for her? She decided to say this aloud, then work back to the girl. Sex, or whatever’s coming up, could wait. “Why horses?”
“I’ve always liked them. In a past life I imagine myself being a horse. Tricksy. And with Capricorn my stud lover. We’d gallop the fields to the Misty Mountain, where the lighted ones are found, the beings who lead us down to the big head Brainard in the valley beyond. Altona.”
“That quite a fantasy you have going there,” opined Misty with a slight laugh and shake of the head. Misty Mountain? she then thought. Why *my* name? Again she decided to vocalize her internalizations. “Coincidence about the Misty Mountain?”
“Oh… didn’t think about that. Yes: coincidence. Chance — again.” But suddenly Sep knew that Misty and herself couldn’t be a couple. Because something *had* happened beyond that mountain; down in the valley. She was remembering this now — lingering effects of The Dance. They had both been *absorbed.* Assimilated… yes, that was the word she was looking for.
Misty was thinking the same word at the same time. And realizing the same thing about the couple part. Their minds were synchronized now. Because, actually, they had one mind.
That of Brainard.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0610, Wallytown/Fishers Island
bar none
They stood there for a while, just staring at each other. The 2 “heroes” had gone elsewhere. It was only the girls now.
Already in costume, Molly Lustrous walked into the bar and took her customary violet latex seat at the base of the stage. Queen of The Dance at night. But by day?: humble, naive Natali Woodhull, counter attendant at a rival bar in town on the other side of the wall. The California part as opposed to this dry, desert Nevada (according to California).
“15 minutes late,” bar owner Natsu Lemon called from in back. “That’ll be taken off your wages.”
“You don’t *pay* me enough to show up on time,” Molly replied in a rough hewed voice, showing both age and wisdom. “I make my real money from my *customers*, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the owner replied sardonically. They often played these roles before the dancing commenced. Where Molly showed her *real* value. Yes, Missus Lemon would certainly pay Molly more if she knew she would quit. But she also knew that Molly loved doing her craft, and this was the best venue in town for that. More tips for certain. And Natsu allowed some, er, experimentation in form.
“Hi Molly!” Sep Felton then cheerfully called over. “Can’t wait to see the act again tonight.” She walked toward the violet sofa; Misty followed her, still stunned from the revelation. We’re not in Second Life any longer! “Molly, this is Misty. Misty: Molly.”
“Pleased to greet you.” Molly stuck out a glitter covered hand. Misty grasped and shook it. Some of the glint came off on her own hand, which Molly noticed. “Sorry about that. Gotta get some better glitter — more sticky.” She turned her head back to Missus Lemon at the counter. “If *someone* would *pay* me more,” which the bar owner just waved off with an, “Oh, you.”
Dirk Jeter then showed up. Tom Sprout. Derek John Toms and his cousin Billy Budd Grant from out of town. But not out of Orient, importantly. Then Stacy Augman, Pretty Pat Puffcake, Jimmy the Geek, Orange U. Glad, and finally the mayor himself, Struddledoo Lemony Pie Chittles the Third. “Quite a crowd,” Molly whispered to herself while looking around. She seemed to do her best work with more people in the room. More energy, she surmised.
Misty and Sep wedged in between Batty Man and Superduper Guy on the couch, who had also slipped in again from the back door. “Smoking a fag,” whispered Sep to Misty in explanation. “*Anything* goes here.”
Clapping. Molly took the stage, a wonder of shine and glamour. Whistles. This would be a good night for her.
The audio began booming out of the speakers to each side. Clapping grew louder as the motions started, the gyrating. Molly was in superb form.
—–
Misty suddenly remembered the ship.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0607, Wallytown/Fishers Island
perpetual Xmas
Funny how I asked that girl what she wanted and she said veins and arteries.
Hope she’s happy.
—–
Occident to Orient, yes.
Bar in Another World to Bar Lemon. Let’s see if Wheeler, ahem, Misty is here yet.
—–
No, that’s just me. Talking to Batty Man. What a loon! Also introduced me to his pal Superduper Guy. Both jerks to the nth degree. Althougth Batty Man saved some face by talking about his cats for 2 sentences. I turned to Superduper: You have any cats? He didn’t even know what one was. Is that one of those scrunched up dogs? he replied. So that was the end of him. Batty Man still has a chance. Of course I can swing both ways. Hehe, *Felton* might be convenient. Neither of us would even have to change names if it went that far. Which it won’t, of course.
I didn’t use to be this way, she then pondered. Too close to Lemon here. Lemony Past. It is powerful.
Misty/Wheeler walked in the bar.
“Oh hey. Rescueing me from *these* two chumps you are.” She stood up.
“Hi. You must be Seppy — Sep.”
“I am in the flesh. With my dark lemon peepers along with me.” What kind of joke was that? she asked herself. But: appropriate to point out at this moment. She gauged Misty’s reaction. She kind of looked around the bar without replying. “I like your hair,” I said to bridge the pause. “We have the same taste in color and style.”
“We do?” I replied from the other side. I looked down at my glove covered hands, the Edwardian Dress, looked up at the brim of my bowed hat. Took it off, even. Peered all around it, examining every corner.
“You okay?” the Felton opposite me asked. “You look a little… discombobulated. Said you were from out of town. Is that out of town Occident or out of town Orient? There’s a difference.”
“I know there is,” replied Misty/Wheeler matter-of-factly. “I… I don’t know what year it is,” she admitted, looking at the hat in her hands again. “Space is not currently my problem. It’s *time*.”
“Ahh, I see.” Sep glanced back down at Batty Man to the right, Superduper Guy to the left. Both were nodding. “You’ve been lemoned,” she said to begin an explanation.
Batty Man and Superduper Guy instantly changed places with each other.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0606, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wallytown/Fishers Island
void
I can’t do it. I can’t buy the 0 cube for 0 dollars, despite the hover text indicating otherwise. The Heart Line has failed me. Art, really, has failed me. Art and Heart together. I have been here all alone.
Better get to Wallytown, then. Meet my future Love.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0604, Heterocera, Wallytown/Fishers Island
town City >
I’ve got to text Baker to come find me and get me. But what year is it? 2020? 1920? If the latter, then Septimius might be of aid. If the former, then Baker alone.
She looks down at her spacesuit like garb; realizes it has to be the former.
Unless we had children, she ponders further. Grandchildren. She searches for Wallytown + Septimius. Name is probably archaic but it’s worth a try.
She studies the search results. No Septimius. On a hunch, she tries Seppy. No luck again. Then Sep. Sep Felton. Ah ha. 8 hits down. Sep Felton. 128 Wall Lane. Number: 882-226-4371. She dials through her notebook.
“Hello?” Female voice — Wheeler was thinking male.
“Hi. Is this Sep? Sep Felton?”
“Yes?”
Wheeler decides what to say. “I’ve been looking up possible relatives in the area. My name is Felton as well. By marriage.”
“Well, that’s interesting. I only know of 1 other Felton, and he’s over in Meat City. Runs a small packing industry. No relation, though.” The voice was pleasant, inviting.
“I was wondering… could we meet sometime today? Or tomorrow perhaps? I’m only in town the two days. Today would be preferable.” Wheeler was thinking: it better be today. I’m ready to get the heck out of Dodge!
“I get off work at 5. How about 6? Bar Lemon is a popular place to meet. Dancers there as well. We can chat before the entertainment. Molly, one of the dancers, is a good friend of mine. She can get us a good deal on drinks.”
How strange, thought Wheeler. Of all the places. Does she know as well?? “Swell,” she answered. “See you in a couple of hours.”
“Thanks. It will be nice to compare family trees. See if we’re actually related. Perhaps you’re instead related to Sven over in Meat City. Or perhaps — I’ve often wondered this too — there’s a missing link between the 2 Feltons. We would be so isolated otherwise. Perhaps we can figure it out together. That would be nifty.”
A little chatty, thought Wheeler. But otherwise: quite nice. Pleasant — that’s important. No nasal in her voice. “Super. I’d like to see the dancers.” It was a hobby of Wheeler’s as well. So many dances in the world. So many more to learn.
“That’s wonderful. I’m a dancer too, but not professionally like Molly. Just amateur stuff.”
Queer again, thought Wheeler. Just like me once more. But enough talk for now. “Goodbye. I’m looking forward to it.” She touches the phone symbol on the notebook, making it turn from green to red. Disconnected. But later, perhaps connected in a much more meaningful and deeper way. Love.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0603, Wallytown/Fishers Island
future past
She kept holding her head and twiddling her feet. “I’ve been here all along, I’ve been here all along, I’ve been here all *alone*.”
Filed under 0013, 0602, Wallytown/Fishers Island
bar 02
Wheeler investigates the bar more thoroughly. She then found the teleport directly connecting this one with Bar Lemon over in Wallytown Fishertown.
“I was *just* there,” she said under her breath. As if Woody didn’t need to know that fact. “This is about *me*” She uses the provided landmark to teleport over…
Things have changed over here…
“Well hello over there,” spoke a woman from behind. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Wheeler turned and approached the policeperson. “You *know* me?”
“Of course we do, Wheeler. If that’s still what you go by. We’ve been monitoring your progress, even. Pretty big party you had in LO next door before you, um, left. How’re the novels going?”
“Mary,” spoke Wheeler, whose mouth would be dropping again if she weren’t using it presently. She must have been the one to delete the objects left behind. Jimmy Carter, a copy of “I Robot”… Obama. It must have confused them greatly. And they *investigated*… But that still doesn’t explain how 7 Stones could be set up in the very sim where a portal bar was situated. This runs deeper that 7 Stones and Fishertown combined. This is *double* lemony.
“Um, fine,” she finally managed to answer. “How… how much do you *know*?”
“We know who you are,” reinforced Policeperson Mary. “We know about walking trees in the wall, and so on. We are taking your story and spinning off our *own* story from it.” She waved at Bar Lemon and Drugstore Orange now behind Wheeler. “This is the link.”
Wheeler suddenly got an im from Woody/Baker. “Where are you?” he asked in it. “I had my head turned and you were gone.”
Wheeler excused herself to walk over to the corner of Bar Lemon and text back. “Baker, this is important. Listen up. Our Second Lyfe… there’s something… behind it all.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0512, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Omega, Wallytown/Fishers Island
hair today…
“Black, white, blue, red, gray. You cannot get rid of me that easily, Baker Bloch. Nor Opp.”
“I know. The alchemy.”
“Yes. I am powerful still. Most powerful. Occident must work with Orient. There is no other way now. Physicality wanes, but mentally we can remain strong, even up to the end. And mental ultimately rules physical. *Creates* physical.”
“What about emotional?” Baker Bloch spoke from his own bench beside the cyan fountain. The Fountain of Morgan Mountain. Or Julia Mountain. Half and half.
“We’ll see about that,” Wheeler answers.
—–
Hucka Doobie was studying collages in Collagesity again and catching up in general. “The Hand of Opp,” she gasps while standing in front of Stonethrow 08.
She examines the corner it makes with 09.
Could I walk into this collage? Hucka ponders while looking at the inviting road. All the way back to Stonethwaite? The road flickers again.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0210, Mountain Lake, Rubi
Sunklands 