[OOC: From here.]Chinese folk religion says there are ten thousand heavens, but this is merely a folk locution for "infinite"; they are infinite both in individual size and in number
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And his hair is ruffling and it's going to take an act of God to get it to lie flat again (but Dale Cooper's good at those, is known for those, so he's not thinking about it at all) and the landscape is surreal and like-not-like the Red Room where Laura Palmer dressed in black and kissed him and told him the name of her murderer -- the light comes from the sea, and not flickering lamps near blood-red curtains and a patterned floor that makes you want to tear your eyes away and scream; and the sea is
(I'd like to be under the sea in an octopus's garden in the shade)
the antithesis of red, and Dale Cooper is having the time of his life.
On a cloud.
He raises his head and squints his eyes against the wind, grinning to beat the devil, and looks out at the cliffs getting ever-closer.
Monkey grins, and tries to steer the crowd through the sudden shower; his tail flicks out and catches a few stars, though, tossing them behind him onto the cloud.
A bunch of shining bananas; a softball-sized red apple; a big clump of paisleyberries.
Below, the sea begins to churn and crash as ten thousand hungry sea creatures come up for breakfast, like trout being fed at an amusement park.
"Every day he journeys back and forth at daybreak and sundown," Monkey explains. "This is daybreak. He'll spend the rest of the day picking fruit and putting it back to have it ready for sundown."
The cloud begins to slow as they get close to the cliffs; this necessitates more inspired dodging.
It also makes Cooper tear his eyes away from the creatures below -- like something out of Lovecraft, or Tolkien, or Buck Rodgers or Star Trek or Tennyson.
The wrinkled sea beneath them crawls.
Cooper picks up the apple and says, "And what happens at sundown? More stars?"
"At sundown he goes to the world, and the stars fall up," Monkey explains.
"And on earth they come out."
The palace is now close enough to be real, not a shining gem or a dollhouse, but an enormous castle carved out of a single titanic amethyst. The architecture is vaguely classical Chinese in style.
Monkey coasts the cloud over the top (the roof tiles form a tesselation of interlocking birds in contrasting magenta shades) and towards the garden behind the castle proper, enclosed in a wall.
"Diane, I have no idea where I am, and I don't care. Remind me to go back and research the work of M.C. Escher. Were his birds magenta? Or were they done in black and white, as I seem to recall?"
He clicks it off, and secures it back in his pocket.
Monkey turns around to stare befuddled at Cooper, and drives the cloud into a tree.
The cloud comes apart in cold little puffs of vapor, and Monkey and Cooper are strewn among the dense branches of the tree, in the company of quite a lot of luminous, jewel-like fruit.
"Hrum. Who's in my garden?" comes a voice. It has a certain... hissing, wind-like quality.
He's on a cloud.
And his hair is ruffling and it's going to take an act of God to get it to lie flat again (but Dale Cooper's good at those, is known for those, so he's not thinking about it at all) and the landscape is surreal and like-not-like the Red Room where Laura Palmer dressed in black and kissed him and told him the name of her murderer -- the light comes from the sea, and not flickering lamps near blood-red curtains and a patterned floor that makes you want to tear your eyes away and scream; and the sea is
(I'd like to be under the sea in an octopus's garden in the shade)
the antithesis of red, and Dale Cooper is having the time of his life.
On a cloud.
He raises his head and squints his eyes against the wind, grinning to beat the devil, and looks out at the cliffs getting ever-closer.
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"This is the Celestial Gate of Twilight Amethyst Eternity!" he yells over his shoulder. "It's the home of the dragon of wind of the evening star!"
The cliffs grow closer and gain definition; Monkey points a gnarly primate finger at a flashing gem set in the band of rocks. "That is his palace."
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The quality of the light from the sea is changing, quite suddenly; the water is becoming both clearer and brighter.
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Cooper does the stupid thing and cranes his neck to look down.
No vertigo, though. He's okay with heights.
"Where are we going?"
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He looks down at the water, then up at the sky. "Uhhh. We might be too late, th--"
A brilliant, jagged streak of light, like a horizontal thunderbolt, screams from behind them and grounds on the distant palace.
A moment later, there's an almighty CRACK, and the stars begin to fall.
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And smells good.
And is tasty.
And...fruit.
"Some hoard," he comments, cheerfully.
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A bunch of shining bananas; a softball-sized red apple; a big clump of paisleyberries.
Below, the sea begins to churn and crash as ten thousand hungry sea creatures come up for breakfast, like trout being fed at an amusement park.
"Every day he journeys back and forth at daybreak and sundown," Monkey explains. "This is daybreak. He'll spend the rest of the day picking fruit and putting it back to have it ready for sundown."
The cloud begins to slow as they get close to the cliffs; this necessitates more inspired dodging.
Reply
The wrinkled sea beneath them crawls.
Cooper picks up the apple and says, "And what happens at sundown? More stars?"
Reply
"And on earth they come out."
The palace is now close enough to be real, not a shining gem or a dollhouse, but an enormous castle carved out of a single titanic amethyst. The architecture is vaguely classical Chinese in style.
Monkey coasts the cloud over the top (the roof tiles form a tesselation of interlocking birds in contrasting magenta shades) and towards the garden behind the castle proper, enclosed in a wall.
Reply
"Diane, I have no idea where I am, and I don't care. Remind me to go back and research the work of M.C. Escher. Were his birds magenta? Or were they done in black and white, as I seem to recall?"
He clicks it off, and secures it back in his pocket.
Reply
The cloud comes apart in cold little puffs of vapor, and Monkey and Cooper are strewn among the dense branches of the tree, in the company of quite a lot of luminous, jewel-like fruit.
"Hrum. Who's in my garden?" comes a voice. It has a certain... hissing, wind-like quality.
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This voice, in contrast, is a little whiny.
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"It's just me."
A sinuous Asian dragon inveigles through the orchard, and booms laughter when it sees him.
"I heard you became a monk, Monkey, but I never believed it. Stealing fruit again? Tsk tsk."
"It's not stealing! You gave me permission!"
"Under duress! Six hundred years ago!"
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