Thursday, November 1, 2007
When the Veil is Thinnest
Things seemed a bit more surreal than usual last night. Instead of wearing masks, people came closer to share their true selves. Identities blurred, Devas spoke of pain through Avatars. Work performed is mundane offices was performed as favor in the Shared Dream. Was it the Baron or the Amazon than took me shopping for a new sense of poise? Was it Qli or my Higher Being that reached out to a friend, battered and bruised by betrayal?
In the industrial park of Babbage I witnessed the end of Nature's rites performed and pyres vanish with the digital dawn.
We sat and laughed in a town called Hostel that was certainly Hostile. An old town opened but that day. Victorian decay and dark metal noize. The ruler is the slave, the whore and the midnight sacrifice to the jaws of wolves.
Discussions of extending the tendrils of Europa and Bloodwing sent ripples through the pond. No place for constructs or cat-people. At least not yet.
The lava in Steelhead's Harbor is rising. I'm certain it's related to the new sims destined to rise. But this is as much water as lava. The dolphins still jump and the pier as not in ashes. Spirits are at work here.
I will become the Lava Demoness and descend into the depths to see what endangers my birthplace, and speak to it. Hopefully this will be solved peacefully.