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[migueliumsstuff-blog]

Pilgrim's Gene

Athalaus was nowhwere to be found, she had allready walked through the entire party twice and was now starting to get stressed. Of course, ahe wouldnt show it, but she was going to be noticeable if she walked across theese people a third time, well, she was allready noticeable considering what she was wearing, but her behaviour would definatelly be seen as bizzare.

Finnally, a hand was laid on her sholder, it was him, he found her. "It's been some time since we last talked, isn't that right Catherine"?

She turned and sighed in relief, "I've been looking for you for the past 30 minutes".

"Yeah, I thought it would be cruel to let you keep walking through the building looking for me, but I must admit it was funny for theese last 15 minutes". He laughed. Conde knew he had allways had a twisted sense of humor, if they weren't in a public place she would have punched him, and if she didn't need his help.

"So... You are still an asshole, that hasn't changed". She responded.

He frowned, still with a smile on his face, "careful, if you are here it's because you need my help".

She inhaled, there was a lot she had to say, and a lot she had to forget to treat this like buisness. "You are going to help me anyways, because there is another red one on the loose and has allready taken 3 victims".

He froze, he knew what this meant, and he remembered how close he came to dying the last time. These people were a danger, and he knew that better than anyone. His facial expression was now monotonous, expressing nothing, "Who were the three"?

"Silvia Red, her apprentice and Jason Hayworth".

"How did he get to Silvia? She is basically uncatchable". He questioned as nausea built up in his throat.

"As with the others, he planned their death meticulously, he sabotaged the plane so they would have to carry out an emergency landing in a nearby field, and made sure to kill everyone on board there". Catherine watched him go pale for a few seconds.

"That is much more plannification than the last red one, shakir was brutal, but he never plotted in that way. He just assasinated like a hitman would. How do you expect to catch him"? He asked.

Catherine glared at him, "I thought you could help me. We've done it before, I mean, he may use a more complex modus operandi and with more variety but if we don't stop him, he'll come after us too".

Athalaus nodded, as his stare went deep into the distance. "Listen, all Stabilisers should be on this, not just us, we bearly made it out alive the last time".

"They won't act if the Legislators don't ask them too. I was bearly given permision to investigate it. All the deaths seemed accidental, plane crash and car accident, they are stipulating that since we cannot know for sure if it is a red one, they can't give out an order." She sighed by the end of the phrase. She had pretty much just given a complaint as an answer.

He looked back at her, "You know I will help, but we need something to start on. Any leads whatsoever"?

"No, but I think this is an old fashioned one, he only killed the strongest supporters of the Governers. I am guessing he wil go for Jack North next, or maybe Sandra Chester. Plus, we have an ace up our sleve".

He couldn't help but let out a small grin. "What is that ace then"?

She laughed for a split second. Then she looked at him defiantly, "My apprentice, he just saw the messenger, guess what he said"?

He only responded with an aqward silence.

She continued, and she only did so in a whisper, but it was enough to leave him paralised, "averness".

"Thats not possible, that would imply he is an ethereal".

She nodded with a smile on her face.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

Pilgrim’s Gene-Dane Bloom

I had been in the church for hours. It was in the middle of nowhere. In a single island at some lost location in the Mediterranean. There were just a harbor and a small village. The church was a couple miles away from the town, on a cliff that led to the calm ocean that seemed calm when I arrived. 

This church was impressive, there were massive glass panels of multiple colors all picturing saints and scenes from the bible. Beyond the rows of chairs, the looming figure of Christ seemed to watch the congregate of pilgrims. They had different identifying symbols. Catherine had explained each color represented a guild. They could represent it by their clothing, a tie, a bracelet of such color or a visible tattoo of such color if they decided to try and appear rebellious. It was only now that I had realized why Conde always wore black or had her set of black bracelets. I had thought it was just a dressing style until then. Black was used in identifying regulators. She had explained that they simply assisted those pilgrims who had ended up in a dangerous situation or tracked down those who were rebelling against the system. They worked under the orders of another guild known as legislators. Once a person from any guild had gained sufficient experience or was renown enough, they had the option to be a member of this guild and control the politics of the guild. 

She had not told me about all the guilds, but she had said there were currently seven. She had mentioned the legislators, in silver. Then, the registrators who recorded as much information as possible from all members from the past and present, they dressed in green. Economists dressed in blue, they were responsible for gaining sufficient profits for the whole system to function, the financed plane tickets, accommodation and new businesses. There were definatelly more, some people odentified with other colours such as brown, yellow or purple.

I had been talking to people Catherine appeared to know from years ago, an Economist there, Jason Myr, he was about 40 and was very valuable to the pilgrimage. He had mentioned the highest legislator, he called him Dane Bloom. I could not know for sure, but he may have spoken about him in slight fear. I saw other people of around my age who seemed to walk around the place with a mentor. They mudt have been aprentices like me. After Jason Myr stopped talking, I walked over to one of them. I introduced myself. "Hi, I saw you walking around in no specific colour and guessed you were an apprentice as well". She was quite tall, about 1,75. Her hair was some shade of brown. She looked up at me and grinned. "Yeah, hi. I'm Alice. Nice to meet you. I'm the apprentice of Michel Singh.He is a registrator". She looked in the direction of a man dressed in a suit but wore a green tie. Some of the men seemed to use their tie to mark their colour. I was slightly confused though, a silver tatoo grew from under his sleeve to his hand. "Why does he have a silver tatoo if he is a registrator"? I had to ask. "I asked him the same thing as soon as he told me about the guilds. That means he is an elite registrator. He holds information that are not even public to anyone else, that includes most of the legislators. Thats why he can interfere in political desicions" She paused and looked over at me, " so who is your mentor"? "Catherine Conde, she is the intimidating regulator over there" I said rather sarcastically. "Ah, Michael said something about her before. She is a very high status regulator isn't she? Apparently she is known for stopping a red one in the nineties". I would have asked what that meant, but I chose to have some more important questions answered at the moment. "So do you know why we are here? Catherine has to make a statement but apparently there is something more going on". Alice eyed me for a second, "well, I didn't know about her anouncement, it must be private with the legislators". She looked away thoughtfully before answering, "but anyways. I and some others are here to be directed into a guild. We will go with the legislators and go through a procedure that will determine where we belong. I am quite sure I'm going to be an economist." I was going to respond, but that instant, something caught both our atentions, something caught everyone's attention. A man walked in through the doors, imposingly, and everyone turned to face him. He was old, of around 60 years of age, and yet he moved without any trouble. Faces turned to face him in fear, and he seemed undetoured by this. Maybe even emopwered. That instant, I knew this was Dane Bloom. And as he walked, he laid his eyed on me.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

just a realisation

I have just reacently realised something, and I know a lot of people will tell me it is obvious and a lot of others will tell me im just pesimistic. I have noticed that we cannot know what is true anymore. We are taught to believe specific things about certain places worldwide and the funny thing is, even the news can lie to you. Events become so controversial, and full of so much information, that tweeking a little bit of it around is no big deal. I have heard what some people are saying about certain things which I personally know are not true. But maybe, we just don't care. Everyone is wondering how trump won, how brexit happened and how the world is on fire. The truth is, the world is allways on fire, and it allways looks like its the end of the world, like if we were taking steps back instead of forth. I dont believe looking for a guilty party will be of any use, not anymore, wether it's cambridge analitica, close minded people, or power craving polititians. The world is not going to end tomorow, but we will allways think it is. But maybe remaining silent and letting the world change on it's own is a good idea, we can't do much about it anyways. Or maybe that is simply giving up. Maybe that's the only thing necesary for the world to trully end.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

I disagree. Water, food and medicine should be available to all. I do not believe this is an extreme, it is fully practical and a reality in countries with public health care- so most of the EU. How can someone believe that is a radical thought?

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

I’ve actually been really invested in this pilgrim’s gene storyline. I never meant to make such a complex world, but I have managed to make a constantly moving international secret society that is based upon a unique faith and is divided into six guilds that keep it functioning. The plot is based on the re-emergence of an ancient guild that used to have political power over governments worldwide. But as with everything I write, I tend to get bored and move on to other characters and plots. I barely have any followers at the moment so I cannot really ask for anyone’s opinion, so I’m going to try and develop new characters until I settle for the right plot.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

pilgrim's gene

Conde walked into the party at Monaco, the wealth in this place was astounding. The way people dressed and the building it's self, it could have been built from pure gold. Champaign, gold, fountains, etc. I walked into it, feeling slightly out of place, and definitely ignored. Catherine moved through the crowds of people, in her red dress, she moved with elegance. I guessed it would be some time until she would find this Athlaus guy, so I moved through the crowds, wondering what to do. There was not much to do if you didn't know anyone there, so I guessed I would just ask for a classy drink, I mean, all expenses were paid for right? I asked for the only expensive cocktail which's name I knew, a vodka martini. Yes, I did only know that from james bond movies. I tried it, it wasnt as bad as I thought.

Suddenly, someone walked closer to me, she sat beside me, with a curious grin on her face, "I'll have a black velvet". She seemed to be of a similar age to me. She then turned to me for a second, "thats another of james bond's drinks, just in case you wanted to order something else". She laughed. She had a black hair that was tied up in an elegant bun with what he could only guess were chopsticks. She also wore a black dress that seemed to also come from a james bond movie.

I smiled, she seemed confident, and somewhat playful, "that noticeable huh"?

"Yeah, but don't worry, we've all done it at some point" she responded, still gleefully.

"Im sorry" i began, "I think I haven't introduced myself, I'm Jason". I said. Conde had told me to lie, to be someone else, i didn't know why exactly, but at this point I had learnt to follow her sintructions. Jason seemed like an easy name to remember.

She paused for a few seconds after taking a sip, "Well, my made up name is Alexa, nice to meet you too". She held her hand out, to shake mine, i did, although I was absolutely confused. I frowned.

"made up"? I asked raising one eyebrow.

Her eyes glared at me, I had thought they were brown for a while, but I soon noticed they were some very dark shade of purple, she was wearing contacts. She had done it to match her make up, as a matter of fact, those were her colours, black and purple. Everything she wore was in those two colours.

She eventually reacted to my question, "I saw you walk in here with Conde. I'm with Athlaus".

"Aah, okay, so is he around"? I knew that was possibly the worst way to guide the conversation, but Catherine had to find him at some point.

"Don't worry about it, Conde has probably allready found him, its an expensive place but it's not that big". She said calmly, "So, what are you doing here"?

"Well, apparently there is someone with the capacity to find and take down pilgrims and Athlaus has captured him before, so Conde wanted to warn him and ask him how to find the guy". I wasnt really sure if I was allowed to tell her this, but I didn't see why not.

She frowned, "that seems kind of disturbing".

I knodded, "So what are you doing here"?

"One of the lessons you'll learn later on is persona maleability, which basically means acting as someone else. I'm supposedly his daughter and he is the owner of a nearby casino which is actually owned by the whole pilgramige. I have extracted some information but im pretty much done with it". She paused for a second and turned to face everyone. She looked back at me, "everyone talks about the same things. Don't you thinks it's boring? They just make politically correct jokes and laugh like the damn queen of England. I've been here less than an hour and im allready sick of it".

That was actually quite a fast change of mood, she glared at the people, she either hated them or pittied them, and I believed it was the first. "It is kind of boring, it looks like a writers convention or something".

She sat back down, "actually I think its more than that, I think they're all miserable, competing against each other, achieving nothing but more objects, a car, a bigger house, it's all worthless. And they keep looking for meaning in those objects. They won't ever find it". Her eyes examined them all and her face went back to pitty.

I didn't understand why she would feel this way so profoundly, "I don't know about that, but I can tell that the ones that smile and laugh the most are the most depressed".

"Yeah, I don't know what I would do if i wasn't a pilgrim."

I beamed at her then, "You said you were bored right? Why don't we go to the roof? It's not incredibly intresting but we will get away from all this noise and I've heard the views here are impresive".

She turned her face to look at me rapidly, and her facial expresion changed drasticly in an instant, she smirked, "I thought you'd never ask".

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

The physical manifestation of my ego inhabits the island and it's gravitational field won't let anyone escape. This is the best out of all responses. I hope this text was long enough for you to be satisfied with my ever meaningful words.

You are determined to find a mysterious island in the land of unknown. Each person who has every traveled to this island never returned, including your father. Nobody knows what is there, but you know you will find out once you see it from the horizon on your small sailboat.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

pilgrim's Gene

Never had I felt so lost in my life. I knew it was the drug, I knew the visions were not real... In a way. They came from somewhere, they meant something, I just couldn't tell what. I knew how drugs worked, they stimulated hormones and neurotransmitters or simply inhibited them. There was a chance this one was causing me to feel alone, desperate and hopeless, whatever hormones were involved in that. Or maybe, I was just more vulnerable now than I had ever been, because I was entering a realm in which I had never lived, with rules I didn't understand or wasn't even capable of understanding.

Where was I? I don't know. Light wasn't present here, or I wasn't capable of detecting it here, my perception was different. I didn't have my senses, or maybe I didn't have the same senses. I did see things however, I could tell every detail of them and images flashed through my mind, but not in any particular pattern, like if my dreams had been disected and scrambled so individual images shot into my mind. I couldn't even diffrerenciate them, or tell how far away they were, or in what direction.

Suddenly, it all stlettled down, but this was no longer dreamlike. It was real, I was alive, and breathing, I felt the air around me, warm, dry, and somehow comforting. The sun was blinding, and I found myself in a desert. Right ahead of him, a crib, it rocked in the wind, and that second, it stopped, everything stopped. I turned around, it was the only thing in this sea of sand. And then, green shoots broke through the surface of the sand dunes, they adhered lightly to the crib without stopping their growth. What started as a couple shoots soon became an agglomeration of weeds that wrapped around it completely and cracked and sunk into every part of it, destroying it at numerous parts until it was nothing more than individual shards of wood, almost unperceptable between the roots. And in half a second, a forest grew from it, consuming the desert. Life succedeed over desolation and soon, the only thing in sight was vegetation. The silence died off in the sounds of birds and the scratching of leaves. The life of the place was intoxicating.

A figure emerged from between the branches, I stumbled backwards until I tripped over a branch. It moved slowly, but the calmness of the forest was immediately gone, and in a split second, my heart began to race, and I began to hyperventilate. I kicked the ground, pushing myself backwards, between leaves and groves. I soon run out of breath and felt immobile, like no matter how much I kicked, I didn't move. And it grew closer, I could see it clearly now, it was a woman, with no legs, but rather the tail of a snake. The tail must have been a meter wide. Her dark hair fell around her face, and the only thing covering her face was a mask, she held it with one hand. It was white and red. It seemed to be made from porcelain, holding two large hollow eyes and covering from her forehead to right before her lips. It curved around her lips until it ended in two large spikes at each side of her face. It had red horns emerging from the top. Her lips were painted red, and she breathed deeply through them, almost as if she had been wounded. Her hands were painted in the same colour, blood red. Her free hand reached down towards my face, grabbed it and she grinned.

A blue figure appeared behind her, it was more human like than she was. Signs were tattooed in black ink across his face, I could not read what they said, they seemed like runes of some ancient civilization. He was in the dark, so I saw no eyes but his mouth said one thing quite clearly, "Averness".

I woke up in shock, back in the Polish forest. Back in the cabin. Catherine sat in front of me. For the first time, she seemed worried, as if something was unnerving. "did you see him"?

She was still accompanied by the elders, who dressed in different colour robes, red, white, green, etc. Each one representing one guild.

I breathed

"The mensenger, the blue man, with the writings, did you see him"?

I nodded as I tried to get my head around how abstract, yet real that experience had been.

"What did he say"? She questioned. The elders leaned over me, fascinated, intrigued.

I focused my eyesight and answered, "nothing meaningful, just... Averness".

Silence spread across the forest that instant. Their eyes widened in the silence. And I drowned in the silence for a few seconds. That was until the elder in grey spoke quickly, "It can't be".

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

The pilgrim gene

This is just a part of something I'm thinking about writing

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As I stood on the desertic plane, I promised it would never happen again. I fell to my knees that second. I prayed in the warm air, as the gentle zephyrs that dragged strings of sand along with them brushed past me. I felt the scalding sun on my dry skin. And just for that moment, I would enjoy the idea of walking away from this. Walking away from all of this. I could let this tombstone be the end of it all. I never knew why she wanted to be buried here. There was nothing. There hadn't been anything here for years. She had been a really remarkable person, maybe the most complex I had ever met. One of the things that hurt the most was knowing that I was buriyng her with all her secrets. The code for the system, the reason she came into my life, and even her true name.

I took one last deep breath. I dried my eyes and rose to my feet once again, like she had taught me. The time to mourn was over, and now I had the choice of giving up and going back to my usual life, or devote myself to the liberty only she could teach me. But deep down I knew, that this freedom was the only thing that kept my heart beating now. So I made my choice, and I decided to go after Silena, this was nothing but the beginning, to my story, and maybe someday, I'd be unique enough to be a mentor. The gene of the Illaoi could not die now, I would not allow it, I would embrace it like she taught me, and I would use it to obliterate Kieth Langerhans and make him regret every action that led him to killing the woman I could only suspect, was my mother.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

Eulogy to Entropy~Alicia Red

Blood doesn't scare me, neither does facing death. Speed doesn't scare me, but it does bore me if there is no acceleration. Death is inevitable, but it's just the greatest change there is, and I adore change. Change is natural, it's how the world keeps itself alive. I simply enjoy enhancing it. I am more natural than anyone else, they chose to avoid change at all costs. But permanence is unnatural, not to mention impossible. I will keep taunting death, until I slip, and when I do, it will be majestic, with lights, with flames, with bullets.

So don't ask me why I rob banks, and why buy a yacht the exact same night. Why I play with men, until we reach land, then I watch their faces when they witness me dashing into a Lamborghini and speeding away.

Life is temporary, and sleep is a waste. I don't want tranquility, or peace, I want adrenaline, and I want to be everywhere. I may be poison, I may be lightening, or fire. But I love it.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

From my home town in Spain, PS this is december.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

Jason Myir

This is just a character I have been playing with slightly, he isn't part of any storyline yet, but I think I am managing to develop a pretty twisted and complex person.

--

Flames erupted from the truck in an elegant burst of warm air. Just like the shape a bomb's explosion would make, the smoke twirled in spirals up in the air, as if dancing savagely in its moment of victory. The red and the orange colours merged, fought and dodged each other. The rippling sound of it sent chills down the back of the 16 year old. A slight grinn curved from the side of his face. His brown-ruby eyes shimmered in the light of the fire.

"I guess they shouldn't have screwed with me". If he couldn't get what he wanted from the truck, he would at least turn it to ashes.

He knew nobody could find out.

He breathed in the smoke past his smooth red lips.

If it was just a normal truck maybe it would be seen as vandalism.

He loved the smell of smoke.

Maybe he wouldn't have to cover his tracks so well if it wasn't a prisioner transport vehicle.

He liked it nearly as much as the smell of gasoline.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

Introduction to Karavan

This is one of my favourite characters I have ever come up with. Give me some feedback.

By the time they reached the land, the orange sun of Darnah was setting. A small port allowed them to leave their boat on the coast and reach the earth. An army of 6 armed men spread around them. They held massive guns that they carried with both arms. Conde had not developed an opinion about this person yet, but whoever they were, they were cautious and prepared for surprises. Conde and Jarred were the only ones to get off the boat. With a light greeting, they were guided across a small opening of the forest. After several minutes, maybe an hour, they caught sight of a wooden house, like one of the Amazon rainforest. The difference was, this one was huge, and had glass windows, and was probably more complex inside. The soldiers accompanied them to the entrance. As they opened the door, a wide room was revealed, there was a table at the end, covered with weapons, organised from blades to machine guns the length of a man’s tibia. To the right of the room, three targets in the shape of humans hung from the wall with numerous tears through them, most of them still had throwing knives hanging off them. To the left, a single open door leading to a large room. In the centre of the room, Karavan, the weapons dealer for all the rebels through knives at the targets, she managed to through three at a time, hitting the three targets at once with intimidating precision. The knives sunk deep into the wood behind the targets, staying there, as some kind of trophy.

Karavan lifted her gaze to inspect each of her hosts. Karavan stood tall, about 1.80 meters. She was a black woman with the hair to the left of her head fully shaved and covered in tattoos that depicted some Arabic writing. To her right, a set of firmly defined braids hung from her hair. Her eyes glared at them independently. Her left hand had some complex form of rings, but it didn't take Catherine long to realise that it wasn't a bracelet or a set of rings, it was rivers of gold. Somebody had poured molten gold over her hand, causing something beautiful in a possible attempt at torture. But what kind of torture used pure gold? It grew from her wrist to the rest of her hand.

Catherine's head spun rapidly, instinctively, as she detected some movement in the corner of her eye. It was swift and delicate and somewhat playful. A wolf. It emerged from the door to the left. It was a white wolf with stains of gray. It seemed playful, like a puppy, the way it walked. It looked up at Catherine, then Jareen, then one of the soldiers. It then looked up at Karavan. She moved her head sideways as it glared at her. It then sat down to her right, watching the conversation. Catherine was fascinated by the beast’s blue eyes looking up at her. It was so elegant, and so calm.

“Don't worry about him, he won't attack if I don't ask him to”. Karavan's eyes drifted away from the wolf and focused on Catherine. She smiled as she saw Catherine’s sight incapable of drifting away from the beast. “You must be Catherine, the… diplomat”.

Catherine looked up at her, as if breaking the spell that had kept her rigidly fixated on the animal. “Yes, that's me, it's great to meet you”.

A discreet chuckle escaped from Karavan's lips. She turned to Jareen and nodded at him, as if greeting him. “Jareen, I know what you want, the take down of La Comuna. The capital of the south, and the direct connection to the north. I already said I would give you that, but I also want you to know that the design of this war was made so it would fall in three weeks, not just now. If you want it to fall sooner, I want to know the real reason. Leave, so I can speak alone with Conde”.

Conde was surprised to see them all leave without saying a word. Not even Jareen answered, he just silently obeyed.

Karavan added something before they left. “Not you Rian”. One of the soldiers froze, letting the others walk past him and out of the cabin. He turned and faced them silently. He was clearly a native, with a defined jawline, and a small rounded nose. “Close the door, oh,  and please put your gun down it's intimidating our guest”.

Conde frowned, that wasn't true at all, Conde had the capacity to knock him out before he even pulled the trigger, but somehow she felt that this was not a woman to argue with.

“Mrs Conde, you and I are quite similar in a lot of ways. We are anomalies, we have gone through situations that nobody else on the planet has ever gone through”. She had a british accent, Conde just realised. “I empathise with you, so if you really need to save this family, I can get you La Comuna. It will be risky though”. Conde had barely spoken, this woman was somewhat horrifying. She knew things that Conde had only spoken about privately with Jareen. Did she have mics on someone? It was best to just have her as an ally. The woman continued, “But I do have one demand, and only you can get it for me, nobody else”.

Conde nodded, “What is it”?

Karavan breathed in deeply before explaining it, “After the war is over, and the family is back in Europe, I need you to stay in North Darnah”.

Conde took two steps back, “That is insane”.

A silence consumed them, she had made an irrational, instinctive action, and from the short time she had known this woman, it may have been a mistake. A shiver ran down her spine as she watched Karavan glare at her, deep into her eyes. Conde took a step back. It took Karavan less than a second to exhale, she shook her head sideways, slowly.

“Mrs Conde, I need you to know that, I do not make decisions lightly, all of them are planned for. Even though I may occasionally appear to be irrational or even driven by emotion, that is never the case. All my steps to victory are methodologically necessary, and you, are the last piece of the puzzle. You will have whatever house you want, and basically anything you want, but only if you stay in Darnah”. She seemed stressed as she said this.

“Why would I have anything to do with this? This is the first time I even walk on one of these islands, it's a ridiculous idea to think that I may stay here. I have a life outside, and how would this even benefit you”? Conde tried to speak calmly, but she couldn't understand why she had to give up her life. If only there was a reason, maybe she could understand.

“It won't benefit me, it will only benefit the people or Darnah. And I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you why, not yet. I know more than you think, and I assure you, this is the only way to save Darnah from something much worse”.

Conde was about to answer, but before she could Karavan's facial expression changed, it suddenly became dark and menacing. She walked over to the table and grabbed a throwing knife, inspecting it's edges and it's design. She seemed curious while doing it, not as if she was going to hurt her, but Conde kept her distance. Karavan continued, “I know more than you think. I always act under strict planning, and I definitely never act under instincts even though I may appear to do so. For example”. In a rapid jerk of her body muscles, she threw the knife across the air, slicing through it, and in less time than a bullet would have, it sunk into Rian’s neck. He stumbled backwards as a fountain of blood shot from the wound. The wolf immediately thrusted itself at the man, sinking it's fangs deeper within the man’s exposed neck. It groaned as the man’s last screams faded. “For example” she repeated as Conde dragged herself away from the revolting scene, hands over her mouth, “I always know if someone has turned on me and is working for Yanak. Under steady consideration, I have planned to end him as a logical next step towards ending that son of a bitch Yanak. And I, even though it may have seemed brutal and instinctive, have chosen to do this rationally”.

Conde had cornered herself up at the edge of the room, for some reason, even though she could have taken Karavan down right there, the woman was powerful intimidating and somehow all knowing. Conde could not stop this woman. She didn't blame her for killing the man, she wasn't even scared by how she did it, but the fact that she had decided to do it in front of her…

“Mrs Conde, I can be a friend, but when anyone crosses me, it does not end well for them”. Karavan stood up and walked over to the body, still gurgling through the heavy gallons of blood rising from its body. She stood over him, casting a shadow. The wolf, covered in stains of dripping blood, walked away to allow Karavan to talk to the man, just one last phrase: “I told you not to cross me”.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

Young gods of Heathens

"You realise we cannot control what we started, don't you"? Adam questioned as he turned around, facing away from the balcony and turning serenly towards her. His green eyes met hers.

"We have started a movement. We have only created the spark, but the fire will be the one to do the job. And if we are lucky, it won't burn down the whole forest". She answered with a playful grin.

It was fascinating, how the two most powerful people in the country were living in a small apartment in the south side of town, but it was better that way, because they heard the people marching, and they could watch them run, and scream, and revolt. It was the dawn of a new world, one they had created from the ruins of a demolished era. They could see the masses grow, unite, and construct the pillars of the empire.

Her slim figure approached him, until they were only centimeters away. He could feel her breath, and she could feel his warmth. He wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her on her forehead. She glanced at him, with her amber eyes, that became translucent like a gemstone in the sun. She was full of such hope, such beliefs of greatness and congregation.

"Do you think we have changed the world for the better"? She asked. But she knew that he was sincere, and saw the wildness of the world, the streets with decaying walls, the places were gangs rulled, and the areas were people lived in fear. He would only say what he believed to be real.

"I believe that the concept of good and bad is so tangible, that my answer could be equally true, as it would be false. I think people have freedom now, but we can only wait and see what they will do with that freedom".

"Do you think that is what God does? Create a race of free willed creatures, and watch with hope"? She asked again.

He grinned as he felt the wind blow her hair the colour of sunsets around. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her. Then he whispered, "Nobody knows who we are, but we have created something nobody believed possible. We are gods, we are the new gods of rebells, revolutionaries and renegades. But most importantly, we are free. So tell me, should we stay and rule over what we started, or should we run? There is nothing holding us back anymore. So tell me, do you want to disappear, or do you want to be the leader of a newborn world"?

She inhaled and walked over to the balcony with delicate swift movements, she laid her hands on the railing and her eyes gazed at what they had unleashed. The crowds of people swarmed towards the town hall, crying for justice, and for truth. The wrongly imprisoned were now free, and they somehow screamed an eulogy to entropy, to chaos and to change. An anthem to the people's power.

"I'm staying".

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

My thoughts on the European Union.

I realise this is just my personal opinion, and that people may not agree with it, but I believe that this ideology is not talked about as much as it could be.

When I was a child, I kept hearing the name, "the European Union". It was something strange to me, and to lots of people I asked. Those who could explain it, didn't fully understand what it implied. It has been recently that I have realised the true implications of the Union, that are never taught or proposed.

The truth is that we all believe that it is unconcievable for the 28 countries to unite as one. We believe that the only reason we are together, is to stand strong against the threats that loom over us. We have red Russia to the right, the US to the left, and the "dragon of the East" growing uncontrollably.

Apparently, we want to stand together, but not unite. Why? Well because we speak different languages, have different cultures, and have even been in wars against each other. But there is something that nobody talks about: We are the only place with 3,000 years of history. We are the home of philosophy, democracy and equality, in ancient Greece. We are the home of the greatest empires across history, the Roman Empire, the Spanish Empire, the British Empire. We were the only ones to stop the expansion of the mongol empire. We are quite simply, the birthplace of the West.

So who cares if our ancestors berried 7 meters beneath our feet are Saxons, Iberians or Vikings? All of the ancestor's of Europe's nations lived and died constructing the countries we live in today. We have 3,000 years of history, intrahistory and ideologies that have long passed away. How can the home of the West have become decadent and terrified? Together we would be the second greatest economy in the world, and quite possibly the country with the longest and most complex history in the world, which is the most socially developed. The countries with the highest LGTB acceptance are in Europe, and some of the ones with the most freedom of speech are also in Europe.

This is why I'm a pro-Europanist and Pan-natinalist. I hope that whoever reads this at least begins to consider this point of view that is not as regularly considered as much as I would like it to.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

She will consume you

As he dragged himself across the carpet ahead of him, his hands clawed into and through the fibers that composed it. He gnashed though every fibre, and yet, he bearly moved, as if the lower part of his body was being dragged by quicksand. His last breaths of hope we're given out in a quiet weep of desperation. His eyes were wide open, his pupils had expanded in fear, as if the inner animal we all have within had been released in vain, and he was left to pay the price of not defeating the beast behind him. His head turned back for a second, to witness the advance of what he had once mistaken for a beautiful woman, Gyal.

Her footsteps were silent, as if stepping on frigid snow. They somehow managed to make a low crushing sound as she approached her prey. As if she was walking on bones. On the remains of thousands, just cracking the bones as if they were merely nugatory branches, craniums and bone marrow. Maybe he was hearing imaginary sounds, it wouldn't be the most surprising thing to happen that day. He had seen her as a goddess of beauty once but now he took rapid Immediately regrettable glances at the incarnation of dread. Dressed in silk, white, nearly glowing, as if sowed from something from beyond our reality. There was no wind, and yet her dress danced in it, forming ephemeral shapes in the air, portraying tales of some unknown time. No matter how mystifying and surreal her attire was, her face and skin went beyond that, making him feel as if he didn’t have the right to see that, as if he was too simple to comprehend its complexity, and if just by seeing it, he was wasting it. He knew it wasn’t possible, but up until then, he had led his life by the feelings within him, his intuition had rarely failed him, but in this situation, the undeniable knowledge of there being something beyond what we can perceive, consumed him.

She was atemporal, and would never change, always saying nothing, and yet, never leaving. He soon realised he had met the last scholar of death, and she was after him.

[migueliumsstuff-blog]

A psychopath's autopsy

The cold iron table held the body of Theresa crane. The morge, was a cold, dark place with that overwhelming smell of disinfectant that Kyle theorised, "massacred his neurons". The white light blinked repeatedly above the mutilated body of the decrepit remains in the centre of the room. Kyle approached her, calmly looking over her white porcelain skin, just as beautiful as when she flourished with life and yet, it had lost all colour. Now, it was just white, pale, and would soon be nothing more than putrid residue.

Ironic, how he had to report the cause of his death, knew the cause of her death, and yet had to make it up. The chase was finally over, she nearly killed him once. She had outsmarted him repeatedly, and this dance of blades had come to an end. Once, she nearly killed him, poisoned him with whine. If only he had not been a step ahead, he had drunk a litre of olive oil prior to the arrangement. He had nearly killed her too once, but failed, as she suspected the gun had been manipulated and didn't hold the gun in front of her face as she shot at him, but rather at her side, tragic how the bottom part of her hand still got burnt. And to think, that it had all started when their string of murders intersected. At one point, they targeted the same person, and of course, they did kill him, she did. But the thrill of the hunt had driven them both there, and they cared for the recklessness of their actions, and their feeling of being superior to the rest of the world. They were capable of being outside that hierarchy imposed upon society by the government. They were free, and they were more similar than anyone they had ever met, however, that was precisely why they had to end each other. The game had started, and it was a more exciting emotion than any they had ever gone through. Finally, an idea surged from the mind of them both, the other one could kill them at any time, and even if they made an alliance, it was be fun for them to turn on each other. They knew what the other one thought because it was exactly what they thought. An intellectual battle was the only option, and only one could win. It was a true shame it was over.

Suddenly a shiver run down his spine. He could have done so much more, it could have lasted so much more. Her face was still precious, her red hair, the colour or blood displayed across the table. He had done it too fast. She hadn't even seen him coming. It was boring. He had broken the rules he thought, somehow. But it had been to easy. He paused for a moment. Something was not right. How could it have been so easy? A sensation of fear devoured him from the inside... It had been too easy. Was this his incapacity to let her go? Or was something really wrong. He lifted her hand from the table, he focused his eyes, glaring into her left hand. She had finger prints. She had not been burnt. His eyes became dead, lifeless, as if an instant swarm of violent thoughts had suddenly consumed him once again. He clenched his jaw. His pupils expanded. She had finally outwitted him.

He heard footsteps behind him, he turned. He saw her, at the door. She gazed at him, with a sadistic smile. Her eyes were Hazel, beautiful, somehow with a touch of red at the bottom, as if some blood from some of her masterwork had splattered into her eyes. They were captivating. But the game was truly over now. As she turned around and locked the door behind her, he realised the smell of bleach, was more pungent, and actually had been mixed with something else today. She had just locked him up in a room filled with gas, and the smell of bleach had masked it. He dropped to his knees. The game was finally over, and he had lost. She played him well.