Tag Archives: Aeriel^^++++$

September 3, 2024 · 7:07 am

00440112

I’ve seen this band before. On Corsica. Group called Red Eye. Play King Crimson covers and who knows else. Genesis I believe here. Or is it Jethro Tull? Gentle Giant? Anyway, to the main part of the post…

Cpt. Planetary scanned his world maps for signs of trouble. All quiet on the western front. And eastern… and northern and southern, sides. Yes he has time now for Our Second Lyfe, saving that world as well.

But first, the business of Burger Shot in yet another virtual world, one of many we’re involved in now.

Aeriel drives past the scene, curious about the protesters indeed. “Just down the street a bit” uttered by Cpt. Planetary to his small group of loyalists toward the beginning of this here photo-novel turned out to be moving from present back into the past, V to IV and perhaps before to be more specific. But Aeriel is involved in her own adventure tonight. Heading toward the Big Ear of Bone Country and seeing if the Horns were back on the radar, one or maybe even both of them this time around.

There. In the distance. Listening.

(to be continued)

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August 27, 2024 · 8:42 pm

00440108 (slab)

Now we just have to return the shovel to where we found it so as not to piss off the local aliens. In the second bush located in a nearby old tool shed. Flaming.

Still in the dead of night, we deliver the slab to said aliens to complete their glyph puzzle so that they can see how to leave this place, this planet. Fire, wind, water they had. But we had to provide them with the final piece representing Earth.

“This planet is a cube!” they all uttered in surprised unison just later while looking down on it, then got to work on recalibrating their navigational charts accordingly, soon to be gone from here.

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August 27, 2024 · 5:30 am

00440107 (Plutonians)

“I have seen many things in the forest,” she explained to me. “I have seen a giant stone hand with an eye representing the place where I came. But not where I’m going.”

“Our Second Lyfe,” I pinpointed. “Or better, *Their* Second Lyfe.”

“Forest of Kahruval at least,” she said to my observation. “This was different. This was Kerchal. A full sim chocked to the brim with pines of several different varieties. No grass, unlike the Rubi Woods found later. But not devoid of other vegetation, which is my next item on my list.”

“Go ahead, then,” I encouraged.

“So one day, after being involved in the forest for a while, I chanced upon two bushes and wondered about the old expression of not seeing them because the trees of the forest took the focus. *This* is where I’m going, I realized. Toward the bushes.”

“Um hmm,” I said, trying to adjust to this new focus as well. I saw — the overlap. Bakers’ Island. This is Baker Blinker, with Baker Bloch soon to come along as well. Bakers in the plural, then. Salvation.

“And then we have the treehouse. Where I opened the eye with the (alphabet) map. But that was within another forest. Or so I thought.

“Everything became white.”

“But this was actually after the arrival of the aliens,” I said. “They build the treehouse. In *those* woods.”

“That’s what changed after the whiteness,” admitted Wendy who was playing the role of Baker Blinker currently. Or maybe it was visa versa — another reversal. “The aliens came first. Two bushes; two ships. Not one.

“The other (find) was a made up reality. *I’m* made up.”

“Because you’re actually Wendy. Not Baker Blinker,” I said. The alien she described before, a big white cup with a pink straw that took control, was obviously her, probably arrived from the future — say, 8 1/2 years later. Not a true alien, at least in her mind. But I knew better. Because of the pink.

“Like I said, there were two of them. Not one. They *built* the treehouse. Everything was backwards from what I remembered. The treehouse came last not first,” she reinforced. “They *built* it,” she couldn’t help but say again.

So should I tell her that both realities are true? Too soon?

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August 25, 2024 · 4:14 am

00440106 (noclip)

She watched it from afar…

… and then found herself inside…

*POP* (manifestation noise).

“Wendy?”

“Why are you dressed like that?” is the first thing she said to me.

“I was told” — she looked over at Wendy, wondering about her own blank attire — “it was cold down here.”

“Well you were wrong!” She changed into who she really was.

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December 23, 2019 · 10:26 am

still exploring

“’69,” Jer Left Horn pronounced, reading the year address above the door to the hitherto unvisited castle.

“And then the suggestion to set your draw distance to 96.

“Sounds like my kind of place.” He sets his draw distance to 96 meters and opens the door….

It was his kind of place.

He finds his way to the bar upstairs. He starts trying to dig up more information about the caves, about End of Time itself. Big Ass Franz the bartender was compliant enough. Jer Left Horn has found that about everyone directly associated with the estate is pretty friendly and open. Good qualities to work with in an investigation. Or pleasantries attached to such a task. Cloe Price is the prime exception so far. Fran — tough exterior but eventually caved. He left her back in his cabin to make this night trek. He’d spotted the castle door at the canal the day before and earmarked it for a visit.

“Cats?” returned Franz, knowing Jer Left Horn was getting into deeper territory; unknown passages.

“Yeah, I’ve heard…”

“That they’re part human? Some of them anyway.”

“Yeeaahh,” Jer Left Horn said back, getting more information off the top than he expected. “That tooo.”

Franz looked around the establishment, at the pictures. “You can’t have them. That’s forbidden fruit.”

“Say’s who?” Jer Left Horn hated for people to tell him what he could and couldn’t do. Being royalty all your life will turn you into that.

“Say’s *them*.”

Jer Left Horn turns slightly on his barrel seat, hiding his horn a bit more from Franz. He strokes his chin wisely. He looks at the pictures too. He’s now more determined than ever to meet one of these cat-people. “Do you *know* any of ’em?” he decides to ask.

Franz wipes down the bar, as if distracted. “Just one,” he managed.

“Welll? What’s her name?” Jer Left Horn didn’t have to ask the sex. He could tell from the bartender’s actions that he loved this creature a bit.

“Rebl,” came the answer. After saying her name, Big Ass Franz excused himself and went in back to have a little sob.

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