#wisterly

[moooonpiie]

Wisterly Specimen Guide Entry One

The Luminia

The Luminia are a magical and enigmatic species that reside in their realm, only occasionally making appearances in our world, Wisterly. Their bodies are composed of a semi-translucent, shimmering substance that emits a soft, otherworldly glow. This appearancd allows them to communicate through their mystical environments. It is thought that all living things began from Luminia

Appearance

Luminia possess a fluid and ever-changing form, allowing them to morph into various shapes and sizes, but mainly possess a jellyfish-like body. Their bodies are responsive to their emotions and intentions, creating a display of colors that reflect their mood and/or surroundings. They do not always have eyes, but ones without them can radiate a light that can convey emotions in place of eyes.

Habitat

Luminia live in Dorsio, in a realm that can only be described as the deep sea. This realm is vibrant and surreal, filled with floating crystals and gems, luminescent flora, and ever-shifting landscapes. This mystical realm exists beyond the boundaries of Wisterly. In Dorsio, time flows differently, and the boundaries between dream and reality are blurred, an ethereal haven created for the ancient Luminia to explore, evolve, and safeguard the ancient wisdom they hold. Now, for present Luminia, it is a place of sleep, dreams, and wonder. Every blue moon, during the Blue Moon ceremony, mythical gateways open, allowing the species to visit vast worlds and the rest of Wisterly.

Culture

In the past, Luminia were powerful, focusing on improving the way of life for all creatures. The present culture of Luminia revolves around the pursuit of harmony and enlightenment. They are known for their love of art, music, and storytelling, mainly through plays displayed through light and colors. While Luminia do not speak out loud, it is thought that the species might possess a form of telepathy that allows them to communicate with each other.

Interaction with Other Species

Though their world is mainly inhabited by only those of this kind, there have been rumours that some other kinds have gotten lost and trapped here. When this happens, based on our views of Dorsio during the Blue Moon festival, they become one with the Luminia and turn into Luminia through the use of the small mythical powers Luminia still have.

Abilities

- Light Manipulation: Luminia can control and manipulate light. They can shape light into solid constructs, create illusions, or even become invisible by bending light around themselves in Dorsio. It is unknown if they can do this in other worlds. - Magic: While this is little, as the powers have diminished over centuries of not using them, Luminia can do little tricks and if many are present, turn an outsider into a Lumina or create a Luminia to join the ranks, as mentioned above.

History

The Luminia trace their origins to a time beyond recorded history. Legend has it that they emerged from the convergence of ancient energies. Initially formless, these beings gradually developed consciousness and self-awareness as they explored the landscapes of their home, what we now call Wisterly.

Ancient Times:

As the Luminia evolved, they discovered the immense power of knowledge and wisdom. They became the custodians of truths, storing the collective wisdom of the realm Dorsio, which was one for the first things they created. Over the eons, they developed a commitment to guiding and nurturing other species, venturing into different realms to share their insights.

Throughout history, Luminia have occasionally crossed the threshold between realms, appearing in many worlds. Based on what they left behind, it is thought they would intervene during times of great imbalance in worlds, aiding civilizations in moments of crisis or inspiring individuals to achieve great feats.

During periods of development in the realms, Luminia discreetly influenced various societies, leaving subtle traces of their presence in folklore, art, and mythology, for the worlds of Marthos and Fyndel, and ruled over Dorsio before the Ruins, sending some of their own to help advise Wisterly as well.

The jellyfish species is thought to have come from Luminia who stayed on earth, due to the similarities and artifacts found in Wisterly and what the Lumina have given us, in Dorsio as well.

[blithesrps]

Act I Scene V

“Now we’re talking! Finally some good shit.”

John Rocket slammed his mug down on their makeshift table, wiping the foam from his stubble with a massive forearm before sliding the cup over the table into the waiting hands of Kite Wisterly. She giggled, taking the mug and spinning on her heels to pour another ale out of the cask they’d swiped as a reward for their fifth successful intel mission complete. They’d just set up camp for the night, crates and logs forming their furniture around a crackling fire. It had been almost a little anticlimactic, how smoothly everything had gone, but perhaps that was just a sign of their team beginning to click. 

They were certainly an odd bunch, but then again, so had been everyone recruited by Styx for the Nyx Initiative. It had taken some adjusting to get to know one another’s strengths and weaknesses, but after almost a year of training together as a team they were finally moving like a well oiled machine. 

“What about you, Z?” Kite asked as Rocket took his now full mug back with a rumble of thanks.

“Nope,” the stoic woman replied, not opening her eyes from where she leaned back in a tilted chair, cigar lazily rolling between her lips. 

“If you’re offering, love, I’ll take another,” piped up a fox beastman tapping away at an encrypted tablet beside Z. Kite rolled her eyes but acquiesced, miming spitting in his mug and making Rocket laugh. With Caesar Cotter served, Kite poured herself a mug. Generally her tastes preferred a more delicate brew, but hey, when in the field one couldn’t get picky, could they? As her ale pulled to a head, she tilted the cask, judging what remained inside. 

“We’re just about finished. Where’s the captain?” Kite asked. 

“Ara doesn’t drink,” Caesar replied, flicking his gaze up from the tablet.

“Does sometimes,” Z interjected, flicking her ash onto Caesar’s tail and getting the chair beneath her kicked as a result. 

“Very well, she doesn’t drink on missions,” Caesar amended as he dodged a retributionary swat, putting the tablet down and stretching. Still…it was unusual for her to disappear without saying something. 

“She’s a big girl, don’t worry about it,” Rocket grunted, “Cotter, pass those cards over and stop working. Reports can wait until extraction tomorrow.”

“Can they? We’re still in enemy territory, you know. If our throats are slit in the night however will Styx get their intelligence? I hear those soldier slaves they breed here are no joke.” Caesar obeyed nonetheless, grabbing the cards and coming over as Kite cheered happily. She flashed hopeful eyes at Z until the woman groaned and stubbed out her cigar, coming over to join as well. 

“One game, then we track down the boss,” she said, settling on her seat and picking up the cards Rocket dealt her. 

“Yeah, yeah. Kite, slide that keg over so we can top off.” 

Soon a jumble of coins, gum, cigarettes and other detritus had filled the center of the table, Rocket was dealing the third game, and Ara still had not returned.

She was in the belly of the beast.

Her every sense was on fire, screaming at her to flee. The smell of the cold tunnel walls, the sound of creatures skittering in the dark, the taste of her own fear on her tongue…it was all Ara could do to keep moving forward. 

Because she had to. She had to. It had already been so long. There was as good a chance that Rat was dead as alive. In fact, Ara had been trying the whole mission to convince herself he was dead. If she believed it first, she might fool herself into thinking the despair would hurt less when it was confirmed. 

The hive tunnels were still. She had passed only three hivechildren since entering her old hive, two busy rutting in a corner and one skittering down a tight tunnel with blood on his hands. Few hivechildren roamed at night, knowing the dangers that awaited them if they did. The guards, Ara found, followed the same pattern they had when she’d been there. There was no reason to change them, she supposed.

Hivechildren did not escape. 

As she tread deeper, Ara was heavy with the knowledge that she too had never technically escaped. She’d been dragged away by the underground river, half drowned and rescued only by magic. That had been luck, perhaps a blessing, but no escape. The further Ara walked in, the louder hissed the voice that said she would not be able to claw her way back out again.

The voice sounded like Thorn. 

If she met him, Ara knew she’d have to kill him. If Rat was dead, she would kill Thorn regardless. A part of her wanted to hunt him down first, see the look on his face when he realized she had lived and come to claim retribution. But Ara also knew it would not be an easy fight, and she wouldn’t risk blowing her cover unless she could accept that it might be the last thing she’d do. 

She was coming up to the central barracks, a curling room with hundreds of cells that housed the hivechildren. Their whispers and soft breathing echoed like waves lapping on a pebbled shore. Somewhere, someone was sobbing. Ara felt her chest tighten, and she had to stop until she could breathe again.

She had left most of her clothing at the mouth of the air shaft she’d used to break back into the hives. Stripped to her underthings, barefoot and rubbed with dirt, Ara knew she would still stand out from her kin if anyone looked closely at her. Over her time at Night Raven College, she had gained weight and muscle, too healthy to pass as a hivechild. She only hoped her slim disguise  would get her far enough. 

On silent feet, Ara moved through the shadows. Slowly she climbed the spiraling walkway, passing the open mouths of cells with a carefully confident gate. She belonged here, Ara told herself, she was one of them. 

At last, Ara reached Rat’s cell. She hesitated, hovering beside the edge. She could hear breathing from inside, but not well enough to know if it was Rat. Fear of what she would find kept her frozen, unable to step forward and face the truth. Then, from the cell, came a whispered voice.

“G-g-go away…I d-d-don’t have any m-more t-t-tokens…I d-d-don’t have anything…” 

Ara let out a long breath, then without moving into sight, she whispered back.

“Rat. It’s me.” 

–

It was silent in the Styx extraction sub. They’d made the pick up effortlessly, filing their gear and bodies into the waiting mouth in less than ten minutes. There were no witnesses, no evidence left behind. All things considered, their mission had gone seamlessly. 

But they were leaving with one more body than they had come with. 

The boy’s name was Rat, which Caesar had countered was not much of a name at all before Ara silenced him with a sharp glare. None of them understood where he had come from. Ara did not talk about her past, beyond that she had come from this continent and that she was something called a ‘hivechild’. Presumably so was this boy, though he and Ara could not have been more different. 

If they had questions or protests, none were voiced. Ara rarely demanded the obedience she was entitled to as lead of their small team, but when she did, it was absolute. Caesar could only assume that the boy had been a secret part of their mission only divulged to Ara, though Rocket suspected she had gone for him without the permission of their benefactors. 

Regardless, none of them were about to argue against taking him with. The kid looked like shit. He had one bruised and swollen eye and was favoring his right leg, the bones in his arms jutting out around lean muscle. Before arriving at camp he must have washed in a river, because he had shown up dripping and shivering, very much indeed like a rat that had leapt from a sinking ship. Ara had forced him to pace himself, but he hadn’t stopped eating since she’d introduced him, slowly working his way through Ara’s remaining rations and one of Kite’s that the girl had offered him. They may have been skeptical, but they weren’t monsters. 

“Hey. Do you need a sweater? Cold?” Caesar was presently trying to mime to the boy, rubbing his hands over his arms and speaking slowly. 

“He can understand you,” Ara answered coolly, Rat flicking his gaze up to her before back to Caesar’s feet. 

“And how should I know that?” Caesar huffed poutily, even as he dug into his bag for his spare sweater. He held it out, giving it a shake when Rat didn’t reach for it. He waited for Ara to nod and only then took it, quickly pulling it over his head and giving a soft gasp of relief at the warmth. Kite watched his all from where she was curled against Z’s thigh, eyes slightly narrowed in a catlike contentment. 

“Almost home kids,” Rocket called back from the pilot’s seat, where he was lazily watching the auto-pilot guide them back to Styx. Caesar noted Ara’s shoulder’s falling in the slightest betrayal of relief. He tutted his tongue, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

That was trouble he wanted no part of.

[444names]

Names generated from the full list of Moon selenographical features + German and French names, excluding the letter "H"

Adeau Adeste Adorbeard Agatz Alfrac Allinter Amers Amiegle Amier Ammer Ampedese Amric Aneler Arboisalt Ardemle Arker Armanfrem Armeff Arparock Assions Atamm...

Bacov Bapearing Bardmonn Barpice Barquere Barringle Barval Basser Baugindetz Beger Begle Beiddier Beline Bellier Bellmin Bennic Biusset Blandillri Blettex Bloulecey Boitz Bolzmaner Bomeit Bonce Boniktia Bored Bornsier Bossevil Bottert Bouder Boukell Boungue Bourbindt Bourd Boweilt Brapper Breauber Brick Broniquard Brudieff Bruniters Brunster Buckle Buette Bundek Burgers Buridainy Buterd Butker Calle Cappe Caren Carolk Cartz Cassan Cassmaner Causever Clocker Cloutt Clove Cluter Colier Comanton Contz Corélin Cotaing Cotter Coudert Coulter Craceanne Cranner Cremord Crolbau Croman Crome Cronil Crosaast Cuyer Cuygiback Célés Damouckler Dapoulle Dateeser Deager Deaux Deckel Decort Delaforn Deman Demann Demmeider Deris Desteer Devaller Deveass Devetteis Diebertz Dienzenn Dierse Dilegaultz Dilette Dinkmar Dison Dorgin Dorne Draulin Drier Dueleck Dupplamps Egeobe Eillerr Eittrenn Eltest Emollnel Enango Esomet Evaritt Exler Faiel Fassend Fassineau Fauliusmut Feler Finger Fissl Fitter Fockencot Folier Foremantz Fradrani Framp Frangne Frans Fredolle Freere Fremard Fring Fromett Fränz Fuenbee Fuletter Funmer Fürge Galing Garder Gares Garlsner Garrecosin Gebey Gelapper Gemanke Geobart Gepuns Gillerrier Gillie Gleobitz Glerxles Goberme Goinerry Gooker Goter Grack Gractobli Grament Grang Grenkers Grisel Grobisser Grétinner Gster Guille Inews Ivarzabold Jaques Jeaurgay Jenielaft Joffer Joldenam Jolleil Joselks Josipper Jostrantz Julmienov Junkeessi Juselman Jutzender Jörst Karier Karock Keitzer Kellette Keluer Kestrock Kidese Kimenatte Klanden Knauderbi Koert Koffale Koncy Korenn Koriney Kremore Kruck Labaset Laber Lablovie Lackellard Ladupille Laebbega Laitzel Laleyetwin Lamendtke Lanklaup Lantt Laroty Lasidel Lasse Lassnearo Laziner Lencam Lendt Lereux Lerry Levern Linel Linier Liver Livert Loellia Loiroury Lontze Lorenoé Lorne Lortatier Lotezer Lottald Lotvieby Louck Lureiles Léanz Léodd Madwein Maler Mandessen Maneyne Mantredt Marderemey Mardt Marques Masenn Matlers Maudete Maumpitz Meiner Miert Milan Milemp Mireau Miregerit Mirgarden Misle Molle Monner Mortne Mouill Mulourger Nampevein Nantierman Nineand Noyer Nusette Obier Ounds Overte Paber Paren Parnetzer Passetz Pater Peont Peska Pfendrince Piclam Piner Plart Plated Pleauka Plerrona Polèner Ponte Poutter Pouver Prena Preus Prock Proster Puimélier Puttle Quare Radenger Randt Ranfrick Ratter Raugus Redere Reing Rennierker Requelon Riaesreert Riber Ricias Rierridems Rinving Ripoux Ritum Riximmor Robins Rocels Rocélorg Roissove Rolier Roquer Rosse Rossion Rouxie Rummeyer Sabel Sabenn Sablin Salgoes Sasslemad Scapiester Scied Sicker Sieden Siedweloïc Siegion Siellieu Sienerre Siente Simman Simoser Snest Spallinvet Spartinke Spellei Spert Spingergeo Spreifels Stanz Steregna Stermandon Stertunner Stieswiker Stion Stitne Stner Stomers Strax Stuum Sulesie Swald Swalte Sweitman Swidrin Swier Swisy Taloopff Tapepp Tialler Tiker Tilleser Tineed Titatzert Tittanusa Trassel Trauzimer Treatier Trecta Triond Trollin Trupette Ulker Unner Vacomnie Valber Valman Vandingson Vands Vanger Vanvirene Varus Veankle Velloisle Voiseux Voles Vontz Wease Weellese Weilleate Weilt Weistene Wener Wicer Willoser Wisterlis Witel Wolemare Yvlau Zanager Zarund Zatil Zeraffstel Zindster Ziste Zuette Zumroelert Zwaler Zöleyer Änesson Élier Érosis

[cuddyclothes]

Peter Cook (Beyond The Fringe) - I Could Have Been A Judge/Beyond the Fringe Live

Spanish subtitles

[moooonpiie]

Where did the songweavers come from? Or were they specifically borne from the stars? Or are they just like other bird species like robins and blue jays that just came out of nowhere

im working on their entry still, but i can explain this before you get the full info :) (keep in mind it is subject to change until i finish)

Almost everything in the world can be credited to the Luminia- they sped up the evolution process for most of the things in Wisterly, giving them some kind of blessing.

It was different for the Songweavers.

they were made entirely by the Lumina, creating the first two to explore and figure out the world, except when they tried to see their creators, they saw the stars and believed they were the ones to create them. Later on, when the Songweavers grew in numbers, they worshipped the stars together, creating myths and legends about them. The Songweavers were highly favoured by the Luminia afterwards -something about them thinking the Luminia were the stars intrigued them. Birds actually came from a Luminia trying to replicate one of the Songweaver's forms, also known as their avian form. (the other two forms they have are wisp and humanoid, but I'll go more into detail with the entry)

[moooonpiie]

Wisterly Specimen Guide Entry Two

The Ferr

Covered in a soft coat, often with dull colors and dark stripes, the Ferr can blend in with the ground. They move carefully, not to disturb their prey. And when the time is right, they strike, almost always delivering the killing blow, which is swift and painless. The Ferr are one of the most common species, and until recently, were underestimated by their appearance. They are clever, and can outsmart every non Ferr they encounter, theiving from humans and the wild alike if necessary for survival.

Appearance

The Ferr have short hair and muted brown fur as a sort of camouflage. They have large cat like ears, capturing sounds too faint for a human. They walk with four legs and have a tail to balance.

Thought to have come from many different wild animals, it was thought to be the "mutt" of the wild, looking most like a canine or feline.

Habitat

While Ferr have been shown to be adaptable and live in most areas, such as alleys in certain cities, they are most found in forests, especially lush ones where they can forage and hunt for food.

Culture

Ferr live in groups, which we have begun to call a "Stripemine." The strongest of the Stripemine lead, and unless they step down or are challenged, they stay as leader, and are heavily respected.

These Stripemines become close, but after time they split and/or join other Stripemines to keep from inbreeding or if a group gets too small or big.

The Ferr seem to have an honour code with other groups, and they do not fight or steal from each other. During times of conflict they have been shown to join together, supporting the weakest members of each Stripemine.

Interaction with Other Species and Groups

The Ferr isolate themself from non Ferr to avoid conflict, and if met by one, will usually run or hide. Some say this is because they are scared, but it is most likely not the case.

Abilities

Illusions: Recently Ferr have been able to use this power to trick and decieve prey and their enemies. Somehow, when some people were exploring and stumbled apon some Ferr, they noticed that the stronger the deception, the less able they are to move and attack, being too focused to do so.

History

Until recently, there were few documentations of the Ferr, partially due to how distrustful the Ferr were of us in their natural habitat, and also our disinterest on these seemingly boring species.

One day, a Stripemine sent out a few Ferr to inspect the forest this particular Stripemine group owned.

When the Ferr returned, they could change the colors of the flora and fauna and mimic sounds from nature.

After this discovery, more Ferr with this same ability emerged until the whole species evolved to have it.

We have yet to find out how this happened, but a few wonder if the Songweavers played a part in this due to the helpful nature exhibited by the Songweaver we have found.

[moooonpiie]

To Catch a Songweaver

Have you ever seen the stars at night? It is a sight to behold. The bright, fiery sun relinquishes its reign on the sky, and the moon, with simple elegance, takes over. There is a reason it has captivated many. When the moon unveils, diamonds scattered in the sky come with it. The twinkling and shimmering bright things are called stars. And the stars brought with them avians. Specifically, Songweavers.

In the land of Wisterly, a boy chases his dreams, to find a real Songweaver, meeting other magical species and making friends along the way.

I've been working on this story for a while, and also the species inside of it, such as Ferr, Luminia, Abystxx, and the Songweavers. I hope to post lore of the world and the map as well as include lil doodles :)

Wisterly Specimen Guide

The Luminia

Ferr

[cuddyclothes]

Too Many Ideas!

So, I’m currently writing (slowly) “The Mating Call Of The Northeastern Screech Owl” wherein Bertie blackmails Jeeves into pretending to be his friend Wisterly Blankenship and perform bird calls at a bachelor party in Long Island.

Meanwhile I have notes for:

Jeeves the arsonist. When anyone messes with Bertie, he burns the place to the ground. Bertie is oblivious.

Smutty sequel to “Jeeves And The Chorus Girl”. Bertie and Jeeves on their honeymoon in France.

Fantasy story with magical elements that I started working on over a YEAR ago. Gussie and Madeline figure largely.

A semi-sequel to “Green Ice” and “Armistice” about Bertie being helped through his WW1 trauma and the repercussions when he faces his memories.

Way down on the list is Jeeves in an Epic Rap Battle.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[cuddyclothes]

A Little Excerpt from “Strong Spirits”

This is the novel I’m typing into Word from the original paperback copy. Story: In 1928 London, Aubrey Arbuthnot’s late father, the Sixth Baronet of Flummox, has cut off his son without a cent. Aubrey sees his father’s ghost. This leads to him attend a seance with Ronald Cockcroft, high society’s most sought after psychic. Aubrey meets Hope Milvain and is smitten.  Her boyfriend, Percy, has a manservant named Hornchurch, who in turn introduces Aubrey to a woman who can teach him to develop his psychic abilities.  In this scene, Aubrey has tracked Hope to Harrods, the English department store.

Harrods was bustling when I arrived. I had quite forgotten that that damn store was so big. Housewives and servants roiled around me. This was not the sort of emporium I was wont to patronize—far too practical. I preferred browsing in the Burlington Arcade on the few occasions when the urge to purchase something o'ertook me. The task of locating Hope in the sea of humanity was daunting. Briskly, I move through the Food Halls.  but there was no sign of Miss Milvain. I stopped to admire a colorful display of fish under glass. Artfully arranged, it rather reminded me of Utrillo.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Arbuthnot."

It was Percy's man, Hornchurch, carrying a wire basket.

"Hullo, there, Hornchurch! Doing a bit of marketing for the household?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Wisterly is escorting Miss Milvain through the Carpets and Rugs department. He requested that I drive them here, and purchase some truffles. If I might inquire, are you enjoying your studies with Mrs. Griswold?"

"Absolutely topping! Hornchurch, I am learning in leaps and bounds. Speaking of leaps not only did I levitate a teacup, I managed to levitate a chair with myself sitting in it. Hot stuff, what?"

"Most impressive, sir."

"You say that Hope is eyeballing floor coverings?”

"Yes, sir. It is my understanding that she was just purchasing a new carpet for her drawing room. Mr. Wisterly volunteered to help her make her selection.”

"Wisterly. Blast it”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have not been able to have one word with the young lady since that night at Percy's. Her maid tells me she is ‘out'. "

"One gathers that she feels it is not best to associate with you, Mr. Arbuthnot.”

"But why? Because of Percy? Because he tells her I'm a blot on the landscape? She barely knows me, Hornchurch. I'm going to march up to Carpets and Rugs and give them both a piece of my mind!"

"I would not advise that, sir"

"I'm not afraid of Percy. At least not when there are a lot of other people around. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to tell him off well and proper!"

Filled with righteous wrath, I stomped out of the Food Hall and made my way to carpets and rugs on the third floor. It was located next to Furniture and Furnishings. There, among the divans, gate leg tables, and howdahs, I spotted Hope's bright blonde hair on the other side of the floor. As Hornchurch had said, she was in the carpet department. Tapping her rosy lip with a finger, she seem to be debating the merits of a peach and blue Persian carpet. Percy loitered at a distance, looking at a large display of ceramics and manfully trying to conceal what was obviously a crushing case of boredom. At the sight of him, my righteous wrath took a powder. He was larger than I, after all.  but perhaps he would not see me from where I was stationed. I put my hand down over my eyes and casually sauntered Milvain-ward.

"Are you being served?" said a tall, mustachioed, salesman clerk to me.

"No thank you, just browsing,” I said.  “Lovely Aubussons, what? Good afternoon, Miss Milvain,” I said in a little voice. "Good after—“

Hope started to say something, turning toward me. Then she got a look at the face under the hat.

"Mr. Arbuthnot!"

"Shh!” I glanced over and Percy's direction. He was examining a piece of Worcester ware. “Miss Milvain, I dearly wish to have words with you."

"Impudence!” Hope frowned, her white brow furrowing, penciled eyebrows coming together.

"Is everything all right, madam?" said the sales clerk. He cocked an eyebrow at me, obviously not relishing my looks.

“You have misjudged me Miss Milvain. I am not the scourge Percy or Cockcroft make me out to be. In fact, if there is anybody you should be worried about, it's Cockcroft."

"How dare you!" Hope folded her arms. "Percy! Come here at once!”

Percy was instantly at her side. Behind him, I saw Hornchurch gliding over, caring the truffles in a parcel.

"Bushbaby!" he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was thinking of purchasing a howdah," I said stiffly. “Sort of a decorative accent for the old sitting room, don't you know.”

“Like fun you are,” Percy snorted.

“He's bothering me, Percy," said Hope.

"This gentleman is bothering you, madam?" said the sales clerk. “Be off with you, sir!”

"Here, I was merely talking to the young lady," I protested.

“He has been pestering Miss Milvain for days,” said Percy. Hornchurch had come upon this strained little scene and stood looking on impassively.

“He was bothering me,” Hope insisted. “Have him thrown out!"

"Very good, madam,” said the sales clerk, ringing for the guard.

“You can't throw me out, my brother is a baronet!"

“That does not give you license to molest young ladies,” said the sales clerk, giving

Hope a paternal smile.

“We shall have him taken care of. The police will be notified. I should not be surprised to find he'd been snaffling our silver.”

“Here! I mean to say!" I cried. I was not about to be carted off to Bosher Street police court and accused of some kind of sex mania. Looking about wildly for an avenue of escape, I chanced to glance down and note that I was standing on a find red Turkish carpet, the small kind that one puts in the passage. Amazing how much can happen in 10 seconds. If I can levitate a chair with me in it, I thought why not a carpet? But I didn't have enough energy to do it. I needed help. The same sort of help Mrs. Griswold needed when she tried to summon my father from the dead and she had taken my hand. Hornchurch was standing nearby. Quick as lightning, I grabbed his hand, pulled him onto the carpet with me, and thought:

"All right, You beastly piece of wool we are going to lift up!"

Looking back, I suppose it was this sheer nervous excitement that kicked my powers into high gear, coupled with Hornchurch’s unwilling donation of his own psychic energy. The carpet shuttered, twisted, and rose straight into the air. Hornchurch dropped the parcel of truffles, and it bounded unheeded to the tiles.

The effect upon the company was immediate and vociferous. Hope screamed and grabbed Percy, who pulled her close to him protectively. The sales clerk stood, frozen, hand outstretched for the telephone to call the guards. As we rose higher, the other customers on the floor saw us.  There was a low rumble of voices, and some laughter. Evidently they thought it was some sort of trick. We hung in the air, the carpet tipping from side to side ever so slightly. I was willed it to stay straight, lest one of us fall off.

"I beg your pardon," said Hornchurch quietly, “but one would very much appreciate it if you let this go back down."  Evidently heights did not suit the fellow.

"Not on your nellie!" I gripped Hornchurch’s hand tightly. “We're getting out of here, Hornchurch. If I let go of you, we'll drop like a stone."

"Very good, sir,” he said resignedly.

I made the carpet move over the heads of the mob below, sweat popping out of my brow from the effort. It jerked forward, swayed, and then we were flying! Hornchurch’s psychic energy was combining with my own, and I guided the energy like managing an unpredictable wild horse. I had to keep my eyes fixed ahead to keep us aloft.

“Don't look down, Mr. Arbuthnot!" he cautioned, knowing that if I did we would crash.

"I'm not!"

The carpet scudded through the store and gaining speed, narrowly missing pillars and potted palms. I thought we would have to keep circling the floor until I passed out, when, blessedly, I spotted a high, narrow window near the ceiling above the China and Glass section.

"Duck!” I yelled, pointing the carpet directly at the window. We closed our eyes as contact was made with a great splintering of timbers and breaking of glass. I felt a piece of wood jab me hard in the shoulder, almost pulling me from the carpet, but shook it off.

Wind hit my face. Opening my eyes, I saw that we were flying above Brompton Road, towards the Victoria and Albert Museum. The carpet climbed higher, the wind battering us. Hornchurch's bowler hat flew off. It was a clear afternoon, and the huddled masses below could see us clearly, I was sure. I dared not look down to find out, but gazed ahead at the open sky. My ears rang.

“Please get us down, sir!” his voice was muffled by the wind.

“I don't know how!” There was a roaring noise in my head, and I knew that I had taxed my ability to the utmost.

"We shall fly down now. Please. Down," I willed, trying to visualize the carpet slowly making its way landward. Success! The carpet coasted downward, with me doing my brain–beating best to keep the descent smooth and slow. We were landing by Egerton Gardens; the trees were in early fall splendor. I tried to imagine the carpet as a leaf drifting lately to the ground. A couple walking up the road stopped and stared as our woolen conveyance alighted on the pavement.

"Cor, would you look at that, Mavis?” said the man to his feminine companion.

“I wouldn't mind having a carpet that could do that,” said Mavis.

On stepping off the carpet, I was assailed by a headache so severe that I dropped to my knees. Smoothing his black hair which had been mussed during our flight, Hornchurch bent over me. “Are you alright, Mr. Arbuthnot?"

"I rather think I overdid it, Hornchurch," I gasped.

“Yes, sir.”

“My head feels as if the skin is peeling off!”

“One understands completely, sir. I will admit that I somewhat feel weakened myself. If I might suggest it the safest course of action would be for you to take a taxi cab back to your home immediately, before any inquiring police appear."

"You're right. Get me a taxi cab."

"Very good, sir."

I resisted the urge to curl up in a ball on the sidewalk. Mavis and her mate watched with mild curiosity until they were satisfied that the carpet was not going to fly off again. Whereupon they strolled off, looking rather disappointed. When Hornchurch had succeeded in hailing a taxi, I gathered the devastated remains and set off home for Mayfair. I wondered if there was enough aspirin in the world to cure my headache.