the silence seems so loud (part II)

(Continuing from part I.)



Vorpal bunnies fleeing, searching desperately for more stable land and finding it not. I do believe this is the first image to capture the unknown Lady Ghost, also.



I struggled up to higher ground, as the very earth beneath my feet buckled, rising and sinking with insane unpredictability.



I surveyed the wracked landscape, finding more friends missing than in view. The homes built in stately procession along the ridge of Saint Kitts were starting to slide downhill to the drink.



At one point, water covered all of us, and those that could swim, swam frantically for shore. I sprouted gills, but the water still tasted terrible, and burned vaguely as it touched my gill slits.



Another surge, another quake, and we were all of us thrust to the surface again, where a familiar whine heralded the arrival of Professor Sputnik and his Companion, Miss Lightfoot.

They had meant to arrive in time for the party. Thankfully, they stayed to help with rescuing victims.

In this image can be seen several gentles including Baron Wulfenbach, thrown into midair, and alas, the scattered bones of Lady Dimsum, burnt nigh entire by lava.



Fellow gentles tossed into the air by seismic upset, land rising and falling, ash thick on the air, coating the throat--the party was officially over.

This was the last time I saw Mr. Miles on the island.



I tired quickly of trying to keep my balance on the shifting sands. I sprouted wings to fly to the mountain peak, and watched the ship Serenity fly across my view. I knew then the scale of the disaster was immense, if rescue calls were sent across other galaxies, as well.



And the ultimate ironic complication, the sheer number of airships that were buried under shifting soil and cooling magma, their inhabitants then needing rescue themselves!

No trace of the former unique shape of Saint Kitts Island is now visible. Geological devastation has completely remapped the isle. We must mourn our fallen, and move on if we're able.

But I am not the only one who mourns the loss of Saint Kitts' unique land formation, either...

(Later insert--Saint Kitts Island collapsed entire two days later, and when the tsunamis passed, in roughly the same area, was discovered Caledon Cavendish. And the once-mourned Mr. Miles, clinging weakly to the shore.

(Lady CoyoteAngel Dimsum and Mr. Nix Sands are still healing from their grievous injuries. Miss Poppy has a limp from vorpal nibbles, but should recover. I was only grazed, astonishingly enough. Does anyone know if Laird Murdann, Otenth Paderborn, survived?)

the silence seems so loud (part I)

Today the memorial for Mr. Jayleden Miles, lost in the blast on Saint Kitts Island, was held; his husband spoke movingly from the altar of the Chapel of Saint Blane. Miss Kamenev still leads the search party to find him...or at least, his remains.

I can't help thinking that I and others warned against this very thing...



It was a lovely day. In spite of my fears, the soft breeze off the ocean was cooling, the scent of plumeria light and refreshing on the air. I was cajoled to dance to Radio Riel's wonderful music, but my eyes kept being drawn to the now-active volcano just offshore.



There were a group of folks gathered at the water's edge to fish; another group held court by a brick grill on which bits of seasoned meat merrily charred. We had sunbathing Duchesses, dancing friends, wandering geese. It was a beautiful day.



Then, we heard rumbling across the water. Not too long after, the first jets of superheated steam were seen. And then we saw our first glimpse of lava, pouring down to the shore.



Hot pyroclastic ash and slabs of cooling magma (lava bombs) soon filled the air. Gases spewed, and it began to be both difficult to breathe, and difficult to see.



Someone had brought an experimental car to test its aviatic ability. A passing chunk of magma struck it, rocketing it very close to the shore's edge. Several gentles had to quickly step out of its path, and many who would not have been hit, were due to dodging from a runaway vehicle, into the path of molten lava!



I stood next to Mr. Nix Sands, so very depressed that my worst fears were being realized. But there was worse yet to come.

Mr. Sands, before being struck by a burning crust of cooling lava...



...and after, staggering towards the shore in shock.



Miss AutopilotPatty Poppy, being nibbled unto near-death by rabid vorpal bunnies, frightened and made aggressive by the blast. She barely escaped with her life.



In the midst of the devastation, new land was seen rising from the bay, just as the first rescue efforts labored their way to shore.

(Continued, most tragically, in part II.)

and we'll have fun fun fun

There's more to come on this, but in the meantime, I'll be placing images from the devastation on St. Kitts Island here.

It's been a long and tiring day of dancing and ash inhalation. *coughs* But more is to come.

Also, if you don't see me for the next few days, it's because I'm fairly assured the Baron is going to want my head on a platter.

(I swear! He was just standing there! And I was too stunned to do more than set up lithographs and snap as fast as I could!)

an end to equilibrium

((RP? You decide.))

I looked down at the invitation in my hand again, a bottle and cork in the other. It still said what it said when it had been delivered to me on land:

People of Caledon
Guvnah Desmond Shang is proud to announce
that Saint Kitt Islands are officially safe
To celebrate, Guvnah Shang
cordially invites you to
a Beach Party on Saint Kitt Islands
Monday, August 18 at 1:00pm SLT
Attire: Beachwear, Victorian or Modern
SLURL: http://slurl.com/secondlife/Saint%20Kitt%20Islands/101/120/22

I re-rolled the strip of parchment, sliding it into the bottle and corking it securely. I tore a strand of kelp from the strand looped around my neck, and tied that around the bottle, looping the whole thing over my waist. Then I swam out to the island, enjoying the touch of sea water on my fins again.

Duchess Gabrielle Riel proclaims the Saint Kitt Islands as perfectly safe, and I deeply mistrust this. I trust the Guvnah, don't get me wrong, but he may have just a wee bit too much on his plate at present to accurately judge safety. And I trust the Duchess, after all, she's my employer at Radio Riel! But still...I deeply mistrust this.

Besides, I've already died once by volcano, I don't intend to do it again!

Thankfully, not everyone is blinded by the glory of a beach party. I've heard news of rushed communiques from Duchess Eva Bellambi, speaking to the Boyarina about Saint Kitts. She says it is unsafe! I believe her.

It did not help matters at all that, upon my arrival in the warm waters of Saint Kitts Island, I just had time to blink, and aim for shore when the entire sim crashed!

Now, Duchess CoyoteAngel Dimsum claims the sim crashing, at that very moment, was simply a side effect of her testing Exciting New Things (TM):

[22:37] CoyoteAngel Dimsum: It crashed, sure, but lots of sims crash, especially ones where I'm trying out Exciting New Things (TM)

I fail to fully believe this, either.

My conclusion? Saint Kitts is geologically unstable. Go to the party, by all means, go, but go to get your fellow citizens away when you leave! It's not stable! Something is bound to go terribly, terribly wrong!

if you need me, me and Neil'll be hanging out with the Dream King

Sometimes I feel like a wraith, drifting in and out of lives, giving all I have to those I love for a season, for a handful of weeks, for a handful of years...only until the alchemical processes I bring have brought them up, those I care for, healed them, made them better, brighter, stronger...

Strong enough to leave me.

It's a pattern I've lived out over and over, and it never seems to change. Love; passion; devotion; discarded.

Over and over. Only recently has this ever changed for me, and the only drawback to being sure of love, love that will not leave, is my heart is still used to being left. Some part of me waits for leaving, is sure it's coming.

This time out...the rest of me doesn't think it's that likely. And this is new territory indeed.

New territory of a different direction, now: back under the Caledon Moors.



(Anyone speak Alien Stone Creature in Caledon? And what happened to Dr. Cavor, anyway?)

The caverns in the Moors are becoming more dangerous. Several times this night we noticed smaller stone creatures, seemingly also fueled by, or powered by, cavorite's green-glowing ore, follow and surround us, sometimes floating, sometimes hopping forward on their stumps of limbs. On the ground they seem like stone, but the curved pointed protrusions on the featureless fronts seem quite capable of doing some unwary explorer a deep injury.



(My first glimpse of Anansite. To date, only found in Winterfell Mithras. We know nothing about this glowing lilac ore, but the supposition is that it may be good in strengthening love potions. Also, librarians might be especially sensitive to its radiance.)

There are rumors of a lost Twelfth Mineral, but we do not know who or what yet. We band together in small groups, or hunt alone, pooling our knowledge with our findings. Under trees and by rivers and underground and surrounded by the glow of pink, blue and green fungi, green, lilac and white stone. We are diligent, and curious.

This is both good and bad.



(Cavorite is tricksky, tricksy stuph--it seems the less of it there is, the higher it floats. So the small chunks we arduously mine from the Moors we've had to find creative ways to pry off the ceilings.)

I remain eternally thankful to the fellow "mycoCaledonians" who've provided digging tools, collection baskets, cavorite-catching nets, and support, in our mutual journey towards understanding. I can always rely on their advice, helpful tips, and sense of humor as we journey together towards understanding.



(Sometimes, entirely by accident, we get a glimpse of the Wizard and his bellows, working behind the curtain. Or, in our case, get taken to see the forthcoming bits of Caledon SouthEnd. It looks lovely, but taken as a capture in time [click for the larger image], it looks very odd indeed.)

Miss Tanarian Davies, upon a chance meeting in the caverns below the Moors, wished to show us Saint Kitt's, and fever-dreams of SouthEnd to come. I count it well worth the time it took to journey to that distant isle, to see the odd waterfowl and airborne fish...and the Ferris Wheel, currently high above the land.

Higher than the air-walking geese, even.



(Somehow, I don't think this is what was meant by the phrase 'flying fish'.)

Miss Davies, Mr. Allen and I watched in baffled bemusement as school after school of fish, sides still slick from seawater, left from their wat'ry home and flew through the night air. Gentle breezes redolent with plumeria and the salted sea wafted by, now also bringing us the smell of straining live fish, close enough to touch--and we do mean that literally, as they flew by!



(Even with the oddity of fish that avoid water and geese that want to swim, is it just me that perceives something strange about the Moai head on the rim of the caldera?)

Why it took me so long to realize that Saint Kitt's bore traces of a previous civilization...I can only blame it on inattention, and on realizing that the geese, for all their strange water-seeking and levitating prowess, are not in the least threatened by me.

Good?

I think it's good...after all, Mr. Allen and Miss Davies were attacked! I just had hovering geese peering over my shoulder at me.



(Ah, it's a deck chair...Well, of course--what else would you put on a giant Moai head on a kitten-shaped island, but a deck chair? Makes...err...perfect sense.)

Soon, though, our night of wandering came to a frightening end. We had retired to the new studio space, Mr. Allen and I, to work idly on several developing projects, when suddenly, with no warning, I was hurled into limbo!

I spent the next nigh two hours attempting to regain contact with the world, to no avail. It was sharp and sudden and quite disorienting!

My only fear is that the same thing will happen, as has happened before in such situations--that the Lindens, 'pon my return, will feel the strong desire to fling me somewhere I've never been prior to this. Most likely, standing on my lonesome on a prim box.

And me wearing only a new white one-piece bathing suit I was testing out for possible use on Saint Kitt's.

Shocking, I tell you. Shocking!