Things are still a bit up in the air as far as neighbors go but it’s official. I and my family of avatars live on Rooster’s Peninsula in a castle. I’ve given up premium membership and being a land owner, renting for now (4096). I was *very* pleased how much of old Collagesity I could transfer to the new property with it well under 1/2 the size. Thing is, no galleries are present, which means I’ve decided to to make it private. It is “merely” a place to hang my hat, along with acting as occasional “movie set” for the blog — and attached photo-novels of course. How’s that going? Quite swimmingly still, thanks; although the production of posts has slowed a bit in the last month or two. May be just the sheer weight/complexity of the project as it churns on and on, now reaching almost 32 1/2 individual works. Nautilus remains a focus, as I’ve stressed recently. I still live there, just in the North instead of Lower Austra. I feel the downsize is complete. I’m very satisfied. About 400 prims (land impact units) left to work with in a skybox, etc. I have room for continued experimenting.
My Nautilus master map with its 100+ pins is still around.
My Martian “city” centered by a giant golden robot statue remains (great!).
The library is still there…
… along with its Special Collections Room.
Dungeon, Table Room, Perch: all accounted for; all part of the castle.
Abbreviated version of the Kidd Tower: a little bit awkward in placement but necessary I feel to complete the deal presently.
Now… who still lives here?? Is Man About Time still in charge since Jeffrey Phillips went away? How about Mr. Babyface, Danny, and the rest of the identified Collagesity residents? Do they still have homes *here*? Good, solid questions to be answered soon enough, I’m supposing.
It’s a beautiful day in a wonderful world. As usual.
“I worry about Blue Rose Thorn, Mistress. I know he has become our friend Blue Bird but how does he change back?”
“Simple, my lovely Venus,” purred The Mistress, her great length folded into the rocking chair on the porch of their retirement home. “He has to find a plane that isn’t crashed and jump out of it, danger abated. That way he won’t need the wings any more. That way our friend Blue Bird can be returned to us, and Blue Rose Thorn to himself. That way…”
“… he can find his way back to being Jeffrey Phillips,” guessed Venus on the 1/2 Bed.
“Perhaps,” she answered, and unclasped her wing-like hands while settling back. The pink parrot behind her squawked softly; the first to hear. “That is not of our jurisdiction. We must first get to the Town on the Mount in the Air and see what happens.”
They sat quiet for a while, pondering all of this. Then: small rustlings in the jungle to their left. “Over there,” Mistress proclaimed, the first to see. “The future is now(!).”
“How?” Slack jawed Venus saw too. A familiar shape had emerged from the tropical leaves and bushes and walked toward a chair marking the edge of their land.
“We will let her answer that. Blue Bird!” she called over. “Come out of the shadows. Explain your presence!”
“Hold on hold on, I’m going to call my bro — it’s always fun, he he.”
“Oh boy,” Spencer says between sips, knowing the story.
Wanda Betty whispers to Spencer: “What *wrong* with him?”
“No, where are *you*?”
What’s wrong with him is that he’s in two places at once when he’s… but you should know the story too by now.
She’s heading to Airtol Hill. She’s heading to Airtol Hill?!
A plane crashed into Squared Root City today at 0800 AM. No one was hurt, but those who were aware took it as a sign that the character Eyela shouldn’t be renting an apartment or house in town and that she would be “crashing” the party (role play) if so. Direct link: both are Demos, as we know when making that famous tuft of purple hair transparent. No 3rd eye under there, no 3-d Venus either. Sloow and easy, they decided.
“I am ready to serve again, 3-d Venus. Just get me out of this heavenly yet heavily primmed place.”
“Done,” the great being ruled. “Done,” echoed the even greater or at least taller being behind her — Wanda, I think — adding, “we’ll come too.” They must be sick of it as well.
Blue Rose Thorn aka Jeffrie Phillips jumps out of the plane.
That was easy, he-as-she thinks when landing safely instead of smashing to the ground, becoming a type of plane him-herself. Now to steal one of these cars.
“I remember seeing you from above, just before Jeffrie’s untimely…”
“… death,” she finished for him. Wendy had gotten over it better than even Axis-Windmill. And she was the bride(!).
Axis-Windmill continued. “You called me Newt back there — when you were still Eyela.”
“That’s your name isn’t it?”
Axis-Windmill thought back again. Beyond the vision of Jeffrie Phillips and Wendy Wheeler on Corton, the Queen and King of Our Second Lyfe truly. Controller of those creatures she was after that. They had a whole encyclopedia on them now, the ones in the right. Wendy Wheeler: in the wrong by then.
“Welll?” she prompted, seeing the space in his steely grey eyes. Time for a reality check.
“Newt,” he tested. The word sounded right: why not. Zero Club, Vim and Vigor, *Energy*… Newt. Short for Newton, as in Helmet.
We have reached the point of no return. Oily way.
“GERONIMOOOOOO!” he thought he recalled. *SPLAT* he definitely remembered.
Who leaped off the cliffs at Corton to their untimely death on the rocks below? Is it still Jeffrie Phillips? Yet he is back thanks to renewing the vows with Wendy Wheeler. How did that work?
And where is he now if not dead (again)?
He continues to talk to his boss even though he isn’t with him any more.
“That boat over there in that bay, Jeffrey,” speaks Man About Time mildly. “Lower Austra. But just beyond, just beyond the bay: Wild West. That’s how they slipped away from Miss Ouri, Jeffrey. They outsmarted her, which is difficult to do. Someone must know the whole map to do this. It’s like they have the entire knowledge of Nautilus itself.”
“Think,” he could hear Jeffrey Phillips in his head now, which he often does.
“That’s right, Jeffrey. (The) Thinktank (sim) is just beyond the bay. The Wild West.”
“No. *Think*.” Jeffrey often emphasized words for Man About Time in his head because he misunderstands what he’s actually trying to convey. Because Jeffrey Phillips is still around, just not physically.
“Oh okay. Think, huh?”
“Think,” he finished.
“We went out on the same date. March 1, 2022. Yet he was a King and I was a Bishop at best, a Knight.”
“9 to 5, yes,” stated Wheeler Wilson to Baker Bloch at The Table, which had moved from the Blue Feather up to the Castle in De Skies, although not out of Collagesity itself. It was a conundrum because (the castle) sat in 2 completely different places on the continent at once: Lower Austra’s Collagesity and North’s Rooster’s Peninsula, with the ultimate link being glowing MOA down in the basement of each. *They* sat in these 2 positions. “I think you underestimate *your* position, though,” she continued. “Rook… you were a rook; a minor rook but a rook still. And people around you didn’t like it because you had no ambition to further your place in life. You were happy as is, just riding everything out until The End. You were stuck on a 5 which was much closer to 5 than 6 and you were satisfied. That was the basic issue. That caused the distancing.”
“I started out as a Pawn.”
“We all do,” explained Wheeler. “We all do.”
“1st off, the umbrella girl in Lorsters Worst *gives* umbrellas, doesn’t just hold one. That’s a big difference in my eyes.”
“That means,” speculates Dickie Doom as well, “Blue Rose Thorn is still relevant, despite being stuck.”
“What I’m thinking,” Debbie agreed. “I’m going back. You stay here in case I need to be rescued.”
Dickie nodded. This was the end of their discussion until something else developed, something totally new. Because the umbrella girl wasn’t giving out umbrellas until Debbie showed up.
There are *2* Dooms, thinks Pot-D or Pan-Z spy Lester Best from his position just around the corner. And the second is recording(!).
Debbie walks inside. Now to figure out how to get this elevator from 01 to 02, she pondered, and started touching stuff.
(to be continued)
He teleports in to the sim’s triple number without planning it. 152 152 152. This Lorsters Worst, name changed while Blue Rose Thorn is examining it, not wanting to taint the procedure in any way. Largest burg on Yd Island most likely, or at least top two or three. I’ll have to check. Anyway, we’ve already featured this very sim in a totally different incarnation in photo-novel 2, near its beginning. The David Bowie vibe was strong at the time. Could it be continued here?
Virginia again, just like with the cat-witch of the Wicked Wild West who practices her melting exercises atop vending machines, sometimes of the seedier variety even. She has something to do with this, BRT notes.
And of course the obvious resonance with Kowloon, especially featured in the blog through novel 17. The great and legendary walled city of Hong Kong, now razed.
He strangely feels at home here. He thinks he’s found something to spend the rest of his travel allowance on for the night. Who needs a midnight snack?
“What’s your name?” he asked after the money is spent.
“Rose,” came the mechanical answer beside him. This began the memory loss of his middle name. Plain ol’ Blue Thorn he was for a spell. Plain and simple: absorption.
(to be continued)
Blue Rose Thorn is at it again, stopping at Escanes this time in the Wild West’s Long Islands. Check out the sign: “YES… WE CAN!” Es… can(es) again you’ll notice. Democrats as well, since this is Obama’s presidential slogan. It’s all about symbols this go around. Signs.
Blue Rose Thorn writes down what he’s found in a local beauty spot before moving on.
I found the key but I can’t get to it.
But neither can he, hehe.