Playing for the Queen

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Legacies 1891, Legacies Nexus, Pearl Grey, RolePlay, roleplay, Story Telling, Victorian, Writing, writing

March 7, 1893

Pearl played for the Queen in her new red gown. The Queen wasn’t actually in the room; Victoria was elsewhere in the world, England to be precise, if she were still alive. Pearl didn’t know for sure because there hadn’t been any news on the island for quite some time.  It was 1893 and Victoria would live for eight more years.

Glancing up at the photograph above the piano, Pearl played her best, which was only average but inspired and that may be more important after all.

Having been born and spending her childhood in France, Pearl hadn’t had Victoria for a Queen for most of her young life. That changed when she found herself in a weird, alternative version of London for what seemed to be an eternity but was actually less than a year. Having learned she had to create a sense of home for herself wherever she was, she’d looked to the larger-than-life Monarch for a sense of normalcy in the nightmarish world she’d found herself in.

London seemed long ago and so far away now. There was no one around to wear the gown for; she’d finally put it on to play to the empty room in the tavern and to the portrait of the Queen.  She’d found the dress packed away in one of her trunks months before, and was looking forward to an opportunity to wear it–an opportunity which had yet to arise.

She continued to lose herself in the music and this let her forget for a while one of the real issues at hand; the ships had stopped coming to the harbor. Not only had there been no news of politics, the theater and of ladies fashion, which she was sure was all changing, but there had been no supplies delivered of late.

There was plenty of liquor in the tavern and she had a fair amount of wealth but the ships had simply ceased arriving. She’d taken careful stock of her food supply, the chutneys she’d made during the winter and the dry goods in the pantry. She’d found a shovel near the open crypt, the one with the coffin and strange altar, nervously borrowing it to turn over some soil to plant a small garden.  There were still tea and scones to be gotten at the Café Serenity and Hester never seemed concerned about anyone starving, although she hadn’t been forthcoming with any details, being as efficient and brisk as ever.

It was likely that all was well; still Pearl could not help but wonder. There were signs that others had been about the island although she rarely saw them.

She sighed and got up from the piano to pour herself another brandy and then raised her snifter in a toast to the portrait of the Queen.

Writing in a Virtual World

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life, Story Telling, Writing, writing

sitting on the porch, listening to the crickets and chickens

A spiral notebook and a gel pen are my favorites for writing. Another favorite is going to an empty sim with streaming music that I like, writing in chat and copy/pasting to a document that I can clean up later. It’s even better when there are ambient sounds, as in this location that has crickets, a rooster and ducks among other things.

Lost Paradise; World Number 3 For Me

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life, Lost Paradise, Writing, writing

Found Myself in Hampton Woods

I first read about Lost Paradise world on Daniel Voyager’s blog and I see it was rated #1 in something or other of the opensim worlds. Last week I set up an account and my avatar’s name is Wren Grey, just as the one in Island Oasis.

Somehow I have the Imprudence viewer for this world and now when I click on SLurls here on the blogs to go into Second Life, Imprudence shows up. I use the LL viewer for Second Life and also have the Island Oasis viewer. It’s difficult for me to figure things out and often I just click wildly on things and hope something good happens.

Lost Paradise looks very neat and tidy and is a good build. I joined the day of their first birthday and they were recovering from griefers so things weren’t quite settled   at the time. I’ve gone back to explore a few times and everything is OK except for that my AO doesn’t work. I’ve tried several copies of it and really am not up for figuring it out but it does bother me to have that noob waddle.

In SL I’m used to buying hair, right-clicking on wear and it goes right on my skull. In this world I had to select where it goes instead of having it in my hand. I’m just saying this is the sort of thing I’ve been messing around with. I actually lost my beginning hair, which I liked. Now I have hair which is better than what is shown in the photo above.

I’ve only talked to one other resident and that was the owner who is kind and helpful as I stood there bald at the time. I didn’t ask for help because I often don’t quite understand quickly.

I can only speculate as to what this world is about and I’m guessing that most people join because they know others who have. Or maybe they just want a very private place to live; there’s a huge prim allowance that comes with land rental. There will likely be some photos here in the future when I do some exploring.

This thing is finally done:

Of course it is dreadful and no one will ever see it. What I’ve learned is that it would be better for me to write short stories for awhile instead of a novel. Also that I need a refresher course in sentence structure and other writing basics. Knowing I have a unique perspective feels good but I have trouble expressing it clearly. Then there’s the thing with my short-term memory and also my short-term memory. I’m kind of kidding about that.

Not Shopping Today Either

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awareness, Consciousness, learning, Story Telling, values, Writing, writing

Not Standing Next To The Bullshit.

“Katia continues with her writing and the dishes remain soaking, the sheets remain unchanged and the time moves on. She actually has to remind herself that this is not a failure; she really cannot be in more than one place at one time. The horrors of taking on the energy of others, the horrors of people who felt overwhelmed by duties making her feel a failure because they focused on what she hadn’t done instead of what she had accomplished for them. It’s in her cells and nervous system now. Whatever choice she has made, a part of her could say that it was the wrong one; she has been programmed.

There are people and organizations she can finally see clearly as her oppressors, those she wanted to please and could be easily manipulated by with the withholding of appreciation and approval. They’d wrung everything out of her that they could because it was the way the world worked in places. They thought that they deserved it to make up for what had been done to them, for their losses and for their conditioning of overwhelm, for Katia’s stupidity for actually caring and mostly because they didn’t have the blessing and curse of feeling what it’s like to be someone or something else.

They give her nothing now; they do nothing for her but make noise in her life. She no longer cares what they think of her; she thinks of them rarely at all. What of value can they withhold from her now, when she turns and walks away?”

Pearl in Legacies Nexus # 1

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Legacies Nexus, Pearl Grey, Photos, RolePlay, roleplay, Second Life, Writing, writing

Pearl in the Apartment in Serenity Falls

Midsummer Night’s Fair in Serenity Falls

by Pearl Grey

On the evening of August first I had the pleasure of attending a Fair on the island of Serenity Falls. I’ve discovered a way I can travel there from TornOak by ship and a fairly safe portal. Just before I left, the publisher of the Nexus Gazette asked me to report on the event.

One of the first things I’ve noticed is the fresh air and spaciousness although the city is dark. Many of the women were dressed in the latest fashions of their race and there were distinguished looking gentlemen there as well. For the most part, people were well-behaved and there were only a few weapons flourished, one most notably being a large sword.

There were some familiar faces of those that have not only survived but opened businesses. Rose, formerly of the Ten Bells has a tavern. Miss Helene who’d been the owner of Tuski Haven has a most interesting shop. I was pleased to find that the local banker is female and much more civil than the Count ever managed to be.

There were people from all over, including a woman from America who was on her first trip to Europe. A goodly number of the folk were winged, some of whom were very small. The small ones particularly laid claim to the berries and sweets on the very lavish buffet table. They appear to have the same sort of table manners as those of London had and seemed to enjoy themselves very much.

There was a fresh bloodwine fountain, strawberry pie, an excellent assortment of cheeses, fresh home made lemonade and a delicious stew. The most popular item was the very special cake which had an uninhibiting effect on those who partook of it, causing a most shocking public behavior which perhaps is acceptable for the local culture.

For awhile it appeared that some violence might break out and there was tension which seemed to be amongst a group of mostly demonic ones. Some of them looked familiar to me and I learned they are of the Clan Seid who were connected to Fiendish Pleasures in London. My sources, if correct, indicated that the powerful Madame Vedis has established the island for survivors of the recent catastrophe to find a sort of sanctuary. There were whispers of a price to be paid which may be of concern at some point but this was an evening of enjoyment, conversation and dancing in the square.

There were opportunities for folks to wander about and discover the many venues and charms of the island. It is mostly clean and well-kept although I was startled to find that at least one of those crazed squirrels from the park has made it’s way to Serenity Falls. None of the zombies, which I’ve seen with my own eyes, disturbed the guests in the square which was decorated in a most appropriate Midsummer Night’s theme.

I wandered amongst the crowd, listening for talk safe and decent enough to write about. It was difficult to discern who were visitors and who are residents of the island. Perhaps some will be part-time residents such as myself? I can’t help but wonder who might live in the dark caves near my apartment.

There were faces I recognized from London who’d been outside of my circle before. Most seemed to have weathered the recent changes well enough although a few I’ve concerns for their sanity. One in particular, a very bewildering case beyond my comprehension.

I felt at home as others seemed to as well. Someone there certainly knows how to organize an event that can be enjoyed by all. I did wonder about the peace keeping and law of the island while the moments of tension and veiled threats were occurring.

It was quite healing to have a festive social event after the recent tragedies that have scattered those of London to the four winds and ends of the earth and beyond.

Pearl’s Journal

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creativity, Legacies 1891, Pearl Grey, Photos, photos, RolePlay, roleplay, Second Life, Victorian, Writing, writing

Journal Writing at Briar Rose Cottage

July 22, 1891.

Five weeks ago when I last wrote in this journal, I believed my life had settled into a rather predictable routine. Longing to leave the strange, dark London, yet not imagining how it would be possible, I resolved to make the most of my life and to enjoy what I could to my utmost ability.

Much has changed since then and new possibilities are on the horizon. With the temporary assistance of an Apothecary apprentice, I moved forward with the lotion crafting. We gathered seaweed from the shallow waters in TornOak and also went salmon fishing in the streams. My injuries from slipping on the rocks have healed and I’ve been moving about quite well.

My home at Number Ten, Beyond Darkness is gone, as is Foxtrotter and Grey’s, Katherine’s flat and other familiar places that have been a part of my life. My belongings have all been transported to my cottage here in TornOak, including the fishing equipment I’d ordered from Jackson Barnes, my scrying ball and this journal.

I cannot help but wonder if I’d left this journal behind, and if it had survived the rift and landed in some other place and time, would it be considered as fiction or the ramblings of a madwoman? Perhaps it would be as a note in a bottle thrown into the ocean? No matter, it is here with me now.

My goodbyes were said including to Borris, the spectre and gentleman who always had a cordial word for me at The Black Rose Cafe. He told me he is retiring to a place where fashionable men’s clothing is always available. When I inquired if he tells a different story to everyone, he remained silent in answer. We embraced, I disentangled my hair and necklace from his clavicle and ribs and then went on my way.

Life has been peaceful here of late. I commune with the goddess and go about my days with the small ways I so enjoy. Sometimes small ships come to the shore and I converse with those from far away. It was a great surprise to discover the occupant of one such vessel was someone I’d known in Northern Africa when we’d worked for the trading company.

A textile merchant who escaped with his life as did I after the troubles there, he told me of news that had never reached me and much of it is quite amazing indeed. I fear it has stirred my Roma blood and caused me to wish to travel the worlds even as I know it’s quite dangerous for a human alone.

That makes me laugh–I must get used to not speaking of races other than human if I’m to travel to Algiers. I must seem quite odd as it is already.

I’ve questioned some of the crews of the other small ships to determine if I might indeed safely travel. While Northern Africa seems quite a daunting destination at this time, I’ve heard references to a place called Serenity Falls. When I become fretful in this place and crave a bit of adventure, I might pack my small scrying ball, some lotion bottles and travel there in order to utilize my business skills. Dearly, I would love to see some of the lands I’ve only but read of.

My Avian companion, Lucas is well and continues to return to me. The sunshine and fresh produce here has given me a robust sort of health and my emotional pains are fading. It is a grand thing indeed to have the gift of life and choice.