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Dead


Not me, this. This blog. Not sure why. Pleanty of time to write, but still.

Nothing I want to say really fits here? Maybe. Want something new.

There is something new. Started something new. A new one.

No comments here anymore, so to whom am I saying this? Don’t know. Just in case.

Might come back.

 
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Posted by on Wed, 08/May/2013 in General Announcements

 

The Royal Son


Well, I had this idea of a New World, in which there are seven/nine deities which are very real. Each deity has its own House (except for the last two, who have a united House). That’ll do, for now.

I wrote this today.

~

The Royal Son

The Council of Existence was gathered. At its head sat the temporary Lord, brother to the late Lord – who died of a terrible disease which, at his last few years, made him appear so ridiculous everyone was now avoiding mentioning him or his illness, fearing to burst into a long suppressed laughter – and uncle to the current rightful Lord, who was, as the servants began to call it, ‘youthfully absent’, roaming the lands which were his birthright and those beyond them.
As much as he enjoyed undermining his nephew’s titles, at the times in which Richard needed to replace him at these Godsdamn councils he couldn’t help but feel for him. He’d gladly sleep through them, but he was afraid it would ruin the air of authority he was building should his ill-timer nephew return.
As the Council’s administrative assistant began collecting papers, Richard realised this was finally over. As if to contradict said realisation, the assistant said, ‘One more thing, my Lord.’ Richard’s dissatisfaction quickly evaporated, though, as he smiled at the thought they were already calling him Lord. ‘Well?’ he asked.
‘The heir to the throne is betrothed,’ the assistant said, looking a bit worried. Richard could hardly tell why; it was due to happen eventually, and if it did not it would hardly matter to them. The commoners loved to hear about this sort of crap, of course, but Richard had his own royal family to worry about.
‘Wonderful,’ he said dully. ‘Be sure to send my congratulations.’
‘Certainly, my Lord, it’s just that…’ He kept looking worried. Richard began to be irritated; he wanted to get this over with.
‘What is it, Bernard?’ he asked with mild annoyance.
‘The wife… She’s of the House of Meaning.’
Richard looked dumbstruck. ‘Oh,’ he said eventually. It was not unknown for the royal families to meddle with the Crown’s family, in order to get close to the throne – Hell, his own family was most notorious for doing so – and it wasn’t even rare of a sotherless heir to wed outside his own royal family – but not to this one. The Royal Family of Meaning was a known rival of his own, dating back to each of their respective tutelaries, who were said to be formers lovers, parents of the first man and woman. Of course, the House of Meaning barely had anything to do with their tutelary; unlike the rest of the New Gods, the Ghost never bothered blessing the family of which he was supposed to be a patron.
After a few seconds of bewilderment, he came to his senses. One thing had to be asked; ‘How the fuck did that happen?’ Richard looked incredulously at his administrative assistant. ‘How could you not inform me this was about to happen?’
Bernard pulled his collar uncomfortably. Notorious rivals they might have been, but the Houses of Meaning and Existence had quite a few things in common, such as inclination to curse more often than most royal families, which often had their servants at unease. ‘No one knew, my Lord…’
‘Someone must have known!’
‘They met a week ago.’
Richard looked disbelievingly around him, as if to check that the world around him was still the same, and not made of chocolate. ‘What do you mean, they met a week ago? Someone arranged that, surely?’
Bernard shook his head.
‘I see, they met – just like that – did they? What, were they whoring at the same place?’ He laughed, satisfied with his joke, but after Bernard did not reply for a few seconds he suddenly said: ‘I’m not right, am I, Bernard? Tell me I’m not right.’
‘No, you’re not. My Lord. They met at an inn.’
‘An inn? They met at an inn?’
‘The Royal Son set out to meet Her Sweetness in hope to discuss the whether, and his men stopped in an inn on the way. She happened to be there.’
Richard was speechless for a moment, looking for something to get angry at. ‘Why was I not informed that the heir to the throne set out to meet Her?’
‘You were, my Lord.’
Richard looked as if he wanted to break Bernard’s nose. ‘We cannot let this happen,’ he finally said. ‘We shan’t be ruled by a damn nihilist. The Gods know what will happen if we do.’

 
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Posted by on Sat, 25/Aug/2012 in Stories

 

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Hatred


I miss hating people. Now all I have is contempt. Contempt is boring.

 
16 Comments

Posted by on Tue, 05/Jun/2012 in Musings

 

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The Truth


It’s not that we can’t reach the truth; we’d just never know it if we did.

 
8 Comments

Posted by on Tue, 08/May/2012 in Musings, Thoughts

 

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Motivations


There are a lot of people in this world, and yet sadly they are mostly the same. It’s difficult to be different in such a world. It doesn’t matter what you do but rather what makes you do it; you don’t choose your motivations, and if you try to change them something motivates you to do so, and this ambition is not one you picked. There are very few people who are truly unique – they are not extraordinarily smart or pretty, but simply more interesting. They didn’t do anything to become what they are, they did not choose to be so. They were led to it, by things out of their control; and yet, they are different and I am not.
Person A cannot become person B, he can only become a person who wants to be person B, and rarely does this mean actually being that. In my case, it doesn’t.

Don’t get me wrong; it would be nice to be smart or pretty, but that’s just not my main concern.

Oh, and I’m still alive.

 
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Posted by on Sat, 28/Apr/2012 in Musings

 

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Quote

Leave Yourself Out Of It

When I say I love you, it means I’m happy and emotional.

When I say I hate you, it means I’m sad and emotional.

Leave Yourself Out Of It…

 
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Posted by on Sun, 25/Mar/2012 in Flash

 

My Blog


My blog is a year old.

And look at it now, all covered with purple. One might even think people enter it.

This blog is like my mind, as I said before.

It seems there are a lot of people here, but in truth it’s just me.

 
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Posted by on Wed, 07/Mar/2012 in General Announcements