Like this dude, he wished his brother had had a funeral with a fine coffin and many flower arrangements spread about to honor him.
The fact that he didn’t (the mass grave again) came to be laid at the feet of a certain person for Gabby. The wrong one. This was witchery as well.
“Get her,” he spoke back to Marilyn, looking at the wrong side of the name and the trees still burning beyond.
“I’ll (*coo*), *try.*”
—–
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0514, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity
Gabby Truth gave Judge Tronesisia a ride back to Toppsity from Cassandra City, since it was his destination as well. No need for the underwater train today. Relief! Tronesisia liked to stay on the surface of things; not get too deep. What if a window broke and her compartment flooded. Rust! The enemy of all antiquated mechanoids, with her as no exception. Gabby gabbed a considerable amount, of course, but it was definitely worth it. She decided to use a lot of head nodding early on. Then she nodded off completely for a while as Gabby talked on and on about scrying devices, his new car, the weather, the strange flu of course — everyone’s favorite topic these days. He must have talked 15 minutes about the significance of the number 19 in her reading, and also Paper. He probably talked 20 more minutes about wedding anniversary gifts starting with Paper and ending with Diamond. Unlike his speedy Little Bastard car, it took him a long time, then, to go from 0 to 60, ha ha.
But then, the witches get the last laugh (as usual). Road block. Literally, a huge block of plywood in the road. Witches sometimes aren’t very subtle in their messaging. Looks like Yoko Ona’s trial will have to be postponed yet another day.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0512, Cassandra City, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity
Gabby Truth turned over the last card.
“Ahh. It’s just as I suspected. 19 again. The Sun. This means a positive outcome. You *will* be infected. The results will come back positive.”
Tronesisia knew she was a mechanoid and would not contract the strange flu that was going around Cassandra City and the South as a whole. Something else must be afoot.
“What do you mean — infected?”
—–
He decided to consult his trusted magic crystal ball next to augment the magic cards. The meaning of the cards was not wrong but just needed clarification. He had Tronesisia’s question in his mind as he stared into the sacred, smokey sphere. Not ordinary glass by any means, its value more comparable to a Diamond. Gabby’s mind became its mind. He saw — Paper. It was obvious what the next scrying device should be.
—–
“Go!” Tronesisia puts forth her hand to match Gabby’s.
“Good. Paper covers rock. Now we’re onto something.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0511, Cassandra City, Maebaleia/Satori^^
“Thank you for your testimony, Miss Raincoat. You can get rid of the evidence.”
“Thank you my liege.”
“Does the prosecution have, er, any more witnesses to call today? Choose carefully. This case seems almost open and closed.”
“If you will my lord and liege, I call to the stand Uncle Stinky, a long time sailor of the Blue Feather Sea of this fair and fine continent.”
Judge Tronesisia looks around the court, sniffing a bit. Then she spots him with both senses as he enters from the right, grazing the shopping cart full of toilet paper in the process. “Pardon me,” he says while staring into wheeling Miss Raincoat’s stormy eyes. It was hate at first sight. And smell. They would meet much later, but she would be a mechanoid and he a pleasure drone on Alpha 9 by that time. Far far removed from this court perched on the 5th floor of the 5 story Burger Joint building. Prosecutor George A. lived right smack in the middle on the 3rd. You could say this was home base for him. He was in his element, stinky or not. He approached the bench after the witness was seated and the dirty air around him settled down.
“Now Uncle… Stinky is it?”
“Yeah. What of it?” True to a sailor he was salty, he was fishy, oily even. The odor might not be that unpleasant if it was Friday at, say, 5-7 o’clock.
George A. briefly contemplated asking him how he got his name and then dismissed it as irrelevant to the case. This was his ace in the hole. No room for error from this point on. He had to be tack sharp (!). Instead: “Tell us about your adventures on the sea. *The* Sea.”
“The Cube?” Uncle Stinky shot back, like a cannon on a ship of military design. “*The* Cube?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” George A. answered back. He turned and explained to the court that the Blue Feather Sea is often called the Blue Feather Cube or just “The Cube” by locals of the area. He doesn’t go into detail. He turns and asks a follow up. “Do you know about The Mermaid? The Mermaid at the bottom of said Sea? Or Cube?”
“Yeah, sure. But we on the western side of the sea call it The Porpoise.”
“Um — you mean The Jellyfish.”
“Objection,” barked defense attorney Cat-Witch behind him. “The prosecutor is leading the witness.”
“Overruled.” Tronesisia was fair if antiquated. She would see the truth through, like a bloodhound. “Answer the question, Mr. Stinky.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0510, Blue Feather Sea^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity
Her future besties Tronesisa “Blue Eyes” and Duncan “Avocado” were already there, playing up a storm. She realized a Void needed to be filled. The drum set beckoned. She already had drumsticks sticking out her back pocket. She tended to carry them everywhere she went now. The drumsticks were sure to go.
She sits in the middle, sticks at ready.
Tom Banks reenters the room. “Oh, so you’re trying to get out of this through a trance, huh.” He draws his gun again.
There was only one thing left to do for Marsha “Pink” Krakow. “Hit it!” she shouted at the top of her lungs while the sticks traveled down. The whiteness takes her.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0617, Corsica^^, Jeogeot^^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, NWES Island, Pipersville/Sink X^, Storybrook
“You’ve become part of the machine again, Axis.”
“I know, honey,” Axis wrongly termed the already committed and married Tronesisia. She took it in stride, knowing the bug would have its fun.
“I wish you didn’t have to go off to war again, Jack.”
“Me too,” he wanted to say, but instead uttered: “Duty calls. Heterocera needs me — us.”
“So you’ll take Tronesisia with you?”
“Of course. Unless you think you need her more here for your services.”
“No no,” his wife Kate McCoy insisted. “She gives me great pleasure but I can find that elsewhere. There’s a little shop in the village that sells somewhat acceptable alternatives.”
“Good.” He pauses to think of the likely alternatives and shakes his head a bit. The price they pay for war, specifically 680 lindens or so in this particular aspect — last time he checked. “I’m sorry again that I have to do this.”
“Well. Summerhill Nova *stressed* that Heterocera isn’t dead and that VHC City can continue on as a powerful ally for us. *And* as they face a threat from the west I suppose there’s no alternative than to help out a — friend? Can we call Summerhill now a true friend? She tried to kill our mother, brother, and niece and nephew. And that was only in the last year!”
“She’s assured me that’s all in the past,” Jack Snow reinforced, thinking several weeks back to the, hopefully, final attempted assassination of a family member at the hands of Clan Nova. Poisoned ketchup. Luckily, Nephew Jimmy was a mustard guy. “We can put all that behind us. If we–”
“–help them,” Kate McCoy finishes for him. Her makeup applied, she gets up to accompany her husband to the awaiting battle ship. So much more needed to be said. Why the Fries with Cheese Church again, of all the religions Summerhill could have chosen? The one that would obviously lead to conflict.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0018, 0116, Corsica^^, Splinterwood
Kate McCoy always left the table to (softly) play the piano when there was after-dinner talk of war.
“Heterocera is *not* dead,” spoke Summerhill Nova to his right. “We can carry on. The Sister sim will remain strong — I’ll make sure of it my liege.”
“Good, good,” the person at the head of the table spoke. “I won’t worry any longer about that direction. I trust you with the matter.”
“Thank you.”
He turned to his left. “And you, Walter.”
“Um hmm?” The tree being’s voice was hollow and husky.
“What say your people about the matter? About the changes in VHC City?”
“As long as Bob Dylan’s okay with it we’re okay with it.”
“Alright, then”. Jack looked straight ahead.
But the CB Dylan Dresser containing the other Snow at the table didn’t immediately respond. Then they realized the Manster within had gone to the wrong dimension — again.
(to be continued?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0111, Corsica^^, Splinterwood, VHC City^
“The Head and the Heart must work together,” Tronesisia concluded, unclasping her hand from Rebl’s. “Heterocera is dead. Vainom Kug is dead.”
“Who?” Rebl responded, then realized who it must be. Manager of the Hotel Chelsea. It’s her Oracle name. As creator/maker Mykal Skall becomes Sikul Himakt in same.
“But — everything is so up in the air over here,” she protests, looking around. “This — *house* for one thing. Lamb outside.” She glances toward the open door with this, just beyond the now *White* Witch. How??
“But the Splinterwood castle (at the top) just next door remains firm in the ground,” divinator Tronesisia reassures. “Peaks, my love. Climaxes even, like the one in End of Time. You know, the meditating Freddy. You must return to that — stuff.” Tronesisia saw it clearly now. Corsica is the place. The Black Witch turned White overnight; Yin becomes Yang and true island is revealed with its Capitol Hill, its Capitol City. The threat comes from Gaeta V. From the east; through the strait.
But in what form?
While busy raising the dead there, she missed a crucial piece about Danshire.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0109, Corsica^^, Splinterwood
Exhausted, Tronesisia finally stopped playing the harp for tonight. She looked around, red eye still in place. Where was she? The afterlife?
No. Still in Danshire.
And there were other instruments left to play in the same antiquated house. She switches to keyboards and fingers something different. The red eye finally recedes.
In the next room, Herbert Gold, Furry Karl, Heidi Hunt Ives, Norris, and perhaps some others not in this particular shot fade into view to listen in on the gorgeous music, flowing like platinum prune into their ears and senses. That was actually the name of the song: “Platinum Prune.” Or “In Search of…”, with the almost priceless prune theoretically showing up at the end of the overall suite of songs, drawing them inward and onward. Much better than Steel Raisin. We begin a journey.
—–
She paused in reading her just published novel “Olive, Green and Pink”. “Ben, dear, it’s gotten suddenly quite chilly in here. Could you put another log on the fireplace?”
“‘Bout bedtime,” he counters, faking a yawn and not sensing anything out of the ordinary himself. One thing on his mind right now.
Picking up on this, she stares over at him after he finishes, trying to decide. Book or boy?
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0108, Benangatron, Corsica^^
