She sang about freedom in this New Island venue where she married one of the Edwards/Eddys early that day in late April’s May, the new island husband joining her on congas. Then she sang about prison, the 7 reduced to 6 and 6 and 6.
I’ve seen her before I believe. Called her up but it was the wrong number. Killed and beheaded by the Witcher but rose back like the Alabama Phoenix, monstrous fangs in their appropriate slots across the inner mouth, SMILE.
She gets away by being in her own sphere.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0101, Alabama, collages 2d, New Island^, Witcher
“Interesting place you have here, Dandelion.” She’d caught up with the owner of the cocktails bar. Indeed a dandy, a playboy, but of the loyalest kind. “But… I must ask, of course. How did *you* get here?”
“Interesting question in turn, my lady, interesting indeed. And the crux of the issue — you’re good at getting to those as I’m recalling. Our many adventures.” He shakes his head with the flood of memories, takes a second to absorb and then recalibrate the discussion. In truth, he didn’t think his great great friend Gerald, the former witcher recently retired to the Touisant vineyard he inherited after killing that, well… red headed *monster*, would choose Merry here over Jennifer. He considers the red head before him, looming large and bright. That must be it. Gerald was always a sucker for bright colors. Like those painters who only paint red yellow blue all over Beauchamp. Abstracters, they’re sometimes called. His other great great friend Princess Anna of Lea who ruled that land had explained it all. Abstraction’s the rage of Beauchamp, she said while pointing an artist out, busy away at it on one of the many town terraces. If you paint or draw realistically you are considered mundane, run of the mill; *anyone* can do realism, she said at the time, which he thought was odd. He preferred landscape paintings himself. And portraits, especially of himself. Which gets him to the point.
“It all had to do with a painting, Merry. A painting of me.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0503, C2077, Heyworth, Maebaleia/Satori, Witcher, X-City^
I know, I’ll ask that pedestrian up ahead for directions, she thinks.
“Dandelion!?” she shouted over the cycle’s roar while pulling up beside him and slowing to his pace. “Know where to find!?”
But he kept on trudging along in his stumbly bumbly way, not answering. “Well *fine*!” she said and motored on, only to encounter him *again* just ahead. NPC, she realized. Not real. And no dialog assigned to it apparently since she got the same non-response from the second one. Meet him in another district of town and he could be a Chatty Kathy, though, she theorized while pulling away once more.
“Dandelion?!” they said after she finally flagged down someone real about 3 blocks away, a native to Night City named Dave. “Different part of town!” he answered over her still raging motor. “You’re in Watson! You *need* Heywood, Vista Del Rey to be specific…!”
“… Dandelion to exactly pinpoint!” she finished for him. And he told her.
But when she arrived at the indicated location, she finds that she *herself* is already there. As another Redd. She gets up off the bench to its side and heads within…
Rockstahr, Philip thinks while staring at the red green blue yellow lines again. Gotta find the origin. Who is this madman behind it all? Across the water?
“Whaddaya think, Frank?” he said after the story was over, still staring across the Nawt Vaya waters that had replaced the Alamo Sea waters in their now smaller, less broad virtual existences. “Little Heaven? Little Hell?”
“Might be,” he said, reminiscing in his own way about Redd. And that darn cat of a man she spoke about. She/he knew so much!
(to be continued)
I’d caught up with Redd but turned out it wasn’t in Heywood but Watson, Kabusie to be specific about a city district and its namesake Roundabout Market to exactly pinpoint. She looked considerably older than when she would have known Frank. She’d obviously been through a lot here in this city of Night. Beaten down.
She smoked like Plan Man seen earlier in this here photo-novel 46 in a long long series it could turn out to be (80 by 100 100 by 80). And, correspondingly, she knew a lot about a certain canal or channel leading from a certain pool of water with a certain wrecked car survived by a certain cat who might have took on the identity (spirit) of the dead driver. Person named Phil. Who, in turn, knew all about a man named Happyacre.
Or was it Honeyacre? Let’s make it Honeyacre.
“Hey motherf-cker. Long time no see!”
No, You’re not who I’m looking for this go around I don’t think. I can return here if needed, though. Thanks!
Nor you, Redd from GTA V among other places, although there’s a seat opposite you I could certainly plop my behind down in where we could catch up with each other if needed. Again, saved a timestamp.
Fish in the ceiling at the Advocet Hotel bar is certainly interesting but there’s no one around that I know atall here. Another time marker.
Then exactly halfway in my journey through Vista Del Rey via this BD video that continued the first, I find the Dandelion Cocktails bar. And Redd there sitting on the side of it (!). Must be Redd I’m looking for after all. I approach her — again.
Dandelion Cocktails is a Witcher 3 easter egg in Cyberpunk 2077, by the way. Referencing this poetic dude.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0413, C2077, Heyworth
Greg was also into painting trees that came from seeds, including that persimmon in the dead center of Juho we mentioned before. Here: a willow pretty nearby it at the end of the short lane known as Makers Way, Greg’s artistic and otherwise home in the still-being-developed burg. He feels he can speak to this particular tree even, hear its words, understand the language of the long, willowy limbs often swaying and sometimes rustling in the winds. “Greg Ogden,” they seemed to whisper call to him more than once. “More green, more green!” And sometimes he would change with this and sometimes he didn’t. Depends on if he’s heavy into the oils or remains more on the surface with quicker drying acrylics and watercolors. Here he dabbles in acrylic; we appear to be safe for now. 🙂
Soon he tires of outdoor stuff and returns to his newly revamped studio now chocked full of pictures of the female anatomy instead of male, the studio apartment where he lives and bathes and such just above, a one to one match in space and clutter one floor up. He always leaves the front door slightly ajar just in case he forgets his keys. Could return in one of those artistic dazes, he figures, especially if he shifts over to oil. He remembers his uncle locking himself out of his music shop for weeks because of a similar jazz trance induced by something as simple as a passing car radio. Sensitive shopkeepers responsible for the opening and closing of doors must be cognizant of their own weaknesses and adjust accordingly.
How about STAB for a name? he thinks while walking through the shop’s red facade. Short and sweet and evoking lots of the same color. Also short as in the lane he lives on. Eye-catching. And as a bonus he won’t have to repaint. STAB it is. Goes along with the blood theme of his new help wanted ad too; he’ll simply build upon it to create the perfect logo, he thinks in the moment. Good luck Peter Melanchton! Thanks for your service, but I don’t need you any longer, I don’t even need your sister any longer.
I have Redd.
Don’t get me wrong. Lexi and he were still pals. Here we see them staring out from her many windowed house after breakfast one morning toward the long if not especially wide expanse of Nawt Vaya, Jeogeot’s largest inland sea and probably the only inland body of water of that virtual continent to qualify as such. And there’s some heated debate in certain Juho social circles even over that, which we’ll get to later. Or not. Not Vaya? Variant name for sure, sea or no. Along with Alamo, which is of particular relevance to Philip’s case. Here’s the actual, Real Life source:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nawt_Vaya,_Arizona
Nawt Vaya is a populated place situated on the Tohono O’odham Nation in Pima County, Arizona, United States.[2] Historically, it has also been known as Agua Lavaria, Agua la Vara, Agua la Varia, Alamo, and Not Vaya, before Nawt Vaya became the official name following a decision by the Board on Geographic Names in 1941. The name means pampas grass well in the O’odham language.
And it’s pretty near the only US population place with a primary or variant name starting with Jeo like the continent, reinforcing the relationship.
Anyway, Philip is still testing out the 3 candidates Wheeler provided for a potential girlfriend as reward for delivering Gus to her, even though he’s leaning heavily toward Nada New Year, seen in the above photo also leaning heavily on him. Lexi sitting on the floor beside them was just glad they were past the constant kissing phase of their relationship. Andie and Sally waited patiently at the table behind them like the 3d dummies they are — just in case. Philip was instead in questioning mode. He never asked Nada — or the others — as if she/they had only one purpose in his life and that alone. It was always Lexi. Another reason he probably kept hanging around, she rationalized. But she really didn’t mind. The girls were pretty and also pretty interesting to speak to. At least Nada. Being a native of the land, she helped fill in Lexi’s gaps of local knowledge. What a sweetheart! If Philip wasn’t around… but she can’t think of that now. Wheeler (and Shelley!) would be so upset!
“Who owns that lighthouse over there, Lexi?” he started, which she knew would lead to more.
“Oh, I don’t know. Just met them once. Darkstar I believe is the name.”
“Cool. Who owns that house with the palm tree just in front of us, then?”
“I don’t know, Philip. They’re just some neighbors. I’ve only seen them from a distance ho-ing in their garden,” which made Lexi wonder again if prostitution was actually legal in this region of Our Second Lyfe.
“Nice. When is Wheeler’s Starbuccaneers gonna open over there to our right, Lexi? Do you know? Huh?” He turns his head toward her. “HUH?”
“*Philip*…” But then she stifled the urge to tell him to be quiet for a while. Because that might mean the kissing resumes. And she’d rather hear his questions than all those smooching sounds. “Starbuccaneers, eh?” she considers. “I’ve heard…” Nada flashes a peace sign in her direction; thanks Nada! “… in about 2 days.” Nada then makes a widening motion with two hands this time behind his head. “Oh, did I say days? I meant weeks.” Thumbs up sign from Nada.
“Nifty. And, let’s see, those people on that grassy field yonder. Who are they? What are they doing?”
Lexi could actually field this field question on her own, which took her back to shortstop days with the local Horners Corners High Jills, no error between her legs at the time. “That’s Greg. As in Greg Ogden. And that’s his models he’s painting for his new and improved Juho studio.” She knew all this from Wheeler. It was kind of the talk of town in certain social circles (or not). Former model Peter Melanchton had graduated Summa cum laude from Nawt Vaya State and moved away. He needed new blood to fill his shoes. That image was actually in the ad he made, which he hoped would seem artistically trendy to a model wannabe.
And, as the ad stated, he was aiming for girls this time — an upgrade. Just like Philip, he had several candidates lined up. Although he was heavily leaning toward the non-red of the group who had just walked into the picture below, as he hoped she would be doing soon on him. Parallel lives.
However, the woman turned out to only be Peter Melanchton’s sister, there to retrieve a leather jacket he left behind. Redd it is.
(to be continued)
I may have found a home in upper lower right left central Nautilus, continent that is, search at least ended for now. It could be enough, despite being only a room and access to a “collective” basement called The Crypt, spookily enough. Maybe there’s a reason the rent was so cheap!
The candy sentry is still present from photo-novel 25 when the Mosses — Fern, Lichen and, ahem, Redd, the red one — lived here, still looking out for intruders on his land. My Candy Shoppe didn’t make it the last time, existing for only a couple of weeks before deletion. But I have a different plan this time. Maybe the sentry can’t see *in*, as in the house he looms outside of and stares away from. I join the appropriate group so that I can rez objects and set up in my room there, also placing my newly bought barrel in the cellar. Let’s go with wine. Superb; somewhat costly but not too costly, especially for the quality. Gotta start somewhere I figure, and middle is often the safest and wisest choice between upper and lower.
We’ll see if I can stay longer this time.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0114, Nautilus, Oooo, Perch-Mistletoe
I picked him as my next NPC to follow because he was red and thus easier to spot, I figured. On my motorcycle, I hid in the flowering bushes, stifling the urge to sneeze while watching his every move. I thought of red striped shirt wearing Waldo who’s always hiding in those famous puzzle pictures, except the shoe’s on the other foot here since I wasn’t wearing red. Red shoes too, I suppose (he checks his feet). Hard to tell from this distance.
He was on the move again and so was I. I looked around for just a second…
… and he was gone! Disappeared as if into the proverbial thin air.
My determination from the overall study: NPCs, even the ones that stick out like a sore thumb, are ultimately impossible to follow in Lost Sanos. They just eventually make themselves… lost.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0104, Arkansas, Google Street View, GTA, Kentucky, Tennessee
Sunklands 