Tag Archives: Axis/Tropp-Opp/Campbell O’Pine^*++@

November 13, 2018 · 8:06 am

art beings

“I want to change further, Axis. I am not happy being me any longer. Look at the women Rhode photographed here. Beautiful.”

“You have changed, Young Ruby,” Axis advised. “You are now Fairy Ruby, a natural extension. And certainly quite beautiful. Natural beauty. Not like these more fake examples in my opinion.”

“Look at what I found on the marketplace,” Ruby declared, and then rezzed a new top. “Another natural extension?”

“No, Ruby. Put that foolish thing away. Fairy Ruby is quite satisfactory to me, and besides, we get to be married to each other as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. At least for a while.”

“Until the end of the season, yes.” Ruby persisted. “But how about this with the top.”

“No Ruby,” insisted Axis, staring at the manifested hair. “You are trying too hard. Let’s go to the upper floors, to the more abstract art. That will cheer you up and inspire you more. Leave these so-called realistic photos behind. They’re affecting your confidence.”

“Alright. But I’m going to test out my new look a little longer.”

“That’s fine.”

—–

“See Ruby? You passed this accident right by. Intermixed red and green again. Back of a Rhode work instead of a front. Sometimes looking at what’s happening behind the stage, for example, gives more information than the play itself.”

Ruby runs ahead, ganders at the front…

… then looks all around the floor. “Huh. I guess you’re right, Axis. Everything is separated out neat and tidy in front. Green in this one. Red over there. Then green with a bit of red but only in one distinct streak, then another two reds and then back to green over here. ‘Green Monster’. The one we talked about before.

—–

“I’m not a monster, you know,” stated synchronized Gregg, sitting at the table opposite Mr. Babyface in their unfinished Middletown penthouse apartment. “I got’s real, true feelings. I like… Bailey’s in a shoe. I like watercolors. Watercolors of Bailey’s.” He pauses thoughtfully in his ranting. “I like you.”

“Oil me up, then.” Accompanied by a small buzzing sound, green Gregg Oden changes over to red Greg Ogden. Mr. Normal.

“Ah so.” But Mr. Babyface had been thinking lately that “normal” Greg(g) could do with a little more monster inside him. Might help their sex life. He dare not try all that out with the monster itself yet; not quite yet. Must keep using oil. No, he must think of other things now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0309, Middleton, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island

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November 10, 2018 · 8:35 am

back to Snowlands

“We brought her back. She-he’ll just have to live with the changes (in Purden).”

—–

“It’s good to see the kids having so much fun at Christmas Season.”

“And the animals too!” tittered Tiny Tomita Thumb below him.

“Yes indeed Tomita.” Uncle Jack turned. “But we have a new guest tonight.”

“What to do with him, what to do with him?” Tomita trilled while Uncle Jack eyed the axe in the far corner of the kitchen. A small buzzing noise then occurred.

“Oops. See? Look at that. Happened again.”

“Terrr-if-ic!”

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November 9, 2018 · 5:35 am

Vila 02

Better not head up there as a piece of cheese.


Treelor crosses the line.

—–

Look and learn.

Ahh, someone standing before the Kama(s) Portal (!). Chance?

Another observer?

I’m going to fly over there…

—–

He’s not exactly where I thought the portal was (256/128). Then again, maybe I was wrong.

I’m on the line once more…

—–

“Why do you need me here again, Misty? We’re a long ways from Philo… and it’s getting dark. Maybe I better escort you home now.”

“Shut up and listen, retro-boy,” Misty insisted (Misty again?). “I *need* you because I need to be part of a couple. Takes two to know, after all. You know… the portal.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about witch lady.”

“Just follow me.”

—–

“I don’t understand, Misty.” Septimius Felton’s voice was low and anxious. “There’s a bat lady over there… dancing. And then there’s one behind us. Gargoyles I fear. I read about them in the town library. It’s Salem all over again here. This is high witchery.” He stared steadily and intensely at Misty, as if she were to blame for it all.

“All right, all right,” she relented. “Just stop burning me alive with those eyes; we’ll go back. Your *comfort* zone. Swindon’s it is But first…”

—–

“*That’s* a gargoyle, Septimius. The others are just some kind of demons. See how it just perches there at the corner of a building, waiting for rain water so that it can spout out of its mouth again? Spout, gargoyle,” she demanded boldly. “Spout *observer*.”

“Interesting,” both declare in unison.

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November 8, 2018 · 6:08 am

third

“I don’t think he-she’s coming out of there, wife of mine. I think we’ve lost her-him to Utah.”

“Don’t always be so negative about things, husband so dear. Utah was chosen by all.”

They paused, considered. Then Fairy Ruby, who was now playing the permitted seasonal role of Mrs. Claus, spoke up again.

“I wonder if Snowmanster will show up to save the day? Like Superman.”

“Depends…” and they both say this in sync: “… if our user splurges the 400 lindens to make it so.” 4 again, I realize beyond the screen, like 40,000 but 100 times less. 2 dollars? I think I can manage it.

—–

“I’m here to save the day!” an extremely, nay, *irritatingly* high pitched Snowmanster wannabe called from the edge of the compound.

“Cheapskate,” groused observing Santa-Axis softer to his wife. Then: “Okay, um, *Snowmanster*! Come join us by the fire for a powwow won’t you!”

“Don’t mind if I do! Don’t mind if I do!”

—–

He was still yelling, even from a few feet away. “Well?! Who’s going to start!?” They stare, waiting for the change. Will it come? Hold on…

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November 3, 2018 · 4:34 pm

Big Yep

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November 3, 2018 · 2:00 pm

boss visit

“At least he seems to have gotten rid of some of the bugs,” spoke Fairy Ruby, anxious to get this over. Those red curtains…

“Is there any other way?” Axis looked at his nails, also nervous.

“No. It has to go through him. Prearranged condition.”

—–

“Marriage!?” Cigar smoking Philip Strevor was incredulous.

“It’s just a seasonal thing. It’s either get married or be buried.” Fairy Ruby leaned foward. “Please, Philip. You’ll be rewarded later on. I promise you. Anything you like. Just don’t let me be… killed again.”

She leans back and thinks of the consequences just exposed.

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November 3, 2018 · 12:14 pm

seasonal

“Well Brevin. Time to face death square on.”

But upon teleporting in, Fairy Ruby sees there are no more freshly dug graves to examine. She logs out then back in to make sure all objects at the small cemetery have properly rezzed. No difference.

Just three remaining graves surrounding a Halloween Bat Tree. All have been around for a while.

Maybe I better talk to Axis tonight about all this.

—–

“Still playing around with form, I see,” stated Axis after sitting down in the Winter Harvest Chair beside the red clad fairy. He notices the hearts. “I like it — but why did you change your hair from black to white?”

“Death will do that. Scare the color out of you.”

Axis glanced back at the shrunk cemetery surrounding the dark tree. “Did you know I was Halloween Jack before the merger? And Nick, and also Melvin, who is kind of Uncle Sam. The great 3-n-1. Would you like to see?”

Fairy Ruby finished her last bite of cherry tart. “Sure. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Axis focused hard, but found he couldn’t produce the needed entity. “Alright,” he said, exhaling. “That’s no good. Let me try the next one.”

“Melvin?” questions the girl.

“Oh. That one.”

“Yeah. Sorry it turned out a little hunchbacked.” He attempted to adjust his unwieldy arms so that they weren’t as much all over the place.

She looked him over. “Listen. I have an idea…”

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October 25, 2018 · 7:08 am

tree tree

He wandered around the living room while Misty was preparing herself upstairs. He eventually found the open alchemy book in the locked art deco secretary, as she had planned.

He had to make out what was on the pages in reverse. Oh, he thought while staring at the tree rising backwards from the man. That’s interesting, hmm.

Hmm.

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October 25, 2018 · 6:22 am

tree too

Misty made sure she was strategically positioned on the ladder upon Septimius’ approach. She also liked to face away from him as often as possible because of the scars she was so self conscious about. Misty hoped that they weren’t a deal breaker in the end, but she doubted it. All signs point to the tree.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Dorn.” Again with the appellation, Misty thought. My husband has been dead in his grave for over 3 years now (she’s learned) and still I’ll remain a Mrs. until remarried. Not fair!

He studied both her and the tree while still standing safely in the road. “That’s not an apple tree you’re picking from, Mrs. Dorn. Those are behind your neighbor Mrs. Dabbs, remember? Seems like your picking, er, barking up the wrong tree.” He laughed good-naturedly with this attempted joke.

I seriously doubt it, Misty thought. “Oh, I’m actually picking leaves,” she said aloud. “For a decoration in my house, a garland I think it is called.”

“Oh,” a puzzled Septimius Felton responded. “Well, do you need any help? Can I… do you want to hand them down to me as you pick them?” What’s this with leaf decorations, he thought to himself. Is this more future witchery? I don’t recall other neighbors engaging in such activity. I must ask Horace Wise at the next town meeting. He’ll probably know. He’s an expert in 1880-1920 history. Post-R.B. Hayes.

“No, I have enough now, I believe. Just help me down off this ladder if you don’t mind and we’ll go inside.”

“Swindon’s starts jumping after dark,” Septimus says while walking over. “But I see you’re already dressed for the occasion.” That dress, he thinks. In truth, he’s already wondering if Swindon’s is the actual destination point tonight.

Misty jumps down the last several rugs. “Thank you.” She attempts to tip her hat as low as possible while motioning toward the house. Those darn face wounds. “Shall we?”

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October 24, 2018 · 9:33 am

hubby?

“What do you think, Brevin? Pretty good disguise, eh?”

“Haaatt!” the colorful fowl cawed. “Haaaaaaatttt!”

—–

Dearest Axis,

I miss you so much. I am sorry about the trick back at the fairy forest. Hope to see you soon.

Yours in love,
Misty.

“Misty?” she says aloud, staring at the signature line.

“Top of the day to you,” called Septimius Felton, sneaking up behind her. “See you’re using one of those fancy future machines again. Typing to your boyfriend, huh?” He laughed agreeably. “But just a friendly reminder…”

“I know, I know,” said, um — Misty (?), shutting down the window. “No future machines. No future anything.”

“Who’s the president?” Septimius tested.

“Garfield.” Pause. “Wait… Grant.”

“I know you’re funning me, Mrs. Dorn.”

Mrs.?, thought Misty(?). I’m *married*? She hadn’t turned around yet. She didn’t want him to see her scars.

“You know the presidents better than I,” he continued. “We almost didn’t make it through R.B. Hayes, though. Almost became a *socialist* country, without a true ruler. But we all got through it. But of course you’re too young to remember all that hoopla.”

“I read all about it in sex ed history class, though,” she proclaimed proudly, reverting to old, classic style bluster.

Septimius walked into the gazebo beside her. Oh it’s *you*, she thought, looking over the familiar, top hat topped gentleman, dapper in a period suit. Does he remember? Does he know? He eyed the fall leaf sugar cookies eagerly. She decides to gesture toward the opposite chair. What would it hurt?

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said matter-of-factly, scooting out the cast iron chair before sitting down, then noisily scooching it back to the table on the wood planked flooring. A sugar cookie was in his hand in no time.

Closed, thought a relieved Misty, staring at the subsequently masticating mouth. He’s at least evolved past Tin Tin, thankfully. He was really quite handsome, she thought. Despite being just a, um, prop.

He cleared his throat, and indicated the laptop with a nod of the head. “About time to put that away, don’t you think. Talk person to person, like it should be. 1920, Mrs. Dorn. And Woodrow Wilsonia is the first female president. Who would have thunk it?”

Who would have indeed, thought Misty.

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