Alukard-Abysswalker

Tomás se sentía como un rey en su flamante nuevo vehículo, un auto eléctrico que se conducía solo. Bueno, no, pero de vez en cuando podía soltar el volante y dejarse llevar. Cuando no había otros autos en la calle, o personas, o árboles sobre las cuadras. El diseño era perfecto, salvo por algunos defectos que serían fáciles de corregir con el tiempo. No es que él supiera mucho de autos, no de autos tradicionales al menos, pero en tema de autos eléctricos sabía un montón. No se molestó en aprender sobre el diseño de “los chinos” y si bien BMW y Ferrari mostraban algunas mejoras interesantes, nada superaría al que compró luego de años de ahorro. La mayoría de sus amigos se podría haber comprado uno en el día, pero a Tomás no le molestaba admitir que a diferencia de ellos, él necesitaba ahorrar. Se sentía orgulloso de “haberse hecho desde abajo”, lo cuál lo hacía la envidia de su grupo de amigos (para ser justos, dicho grupo de “amigos” no sentía otra cosa que envidia, salvo tal vez odio ...

There was a king that few have heard of. Some said he was no man, as what man could do as he did and still smile? A golden king, one of many who would cover themselves in wealth to symbolise their distance from the common folk, always dressed in the most expensive and extravagant clothes. His reign was short but terrifying, the sort that leaves behind legends that last far longer than one’s own name . He ruled in leisure, caring little for his responsibilities as king, something that most around him encouraged. It was easier for his advisors, his  generals and so-called allies to get what they wanted if he didn’t put any effort towards the governing of their kingdom. So as he paid them no mind they returned in kind, this king was able to do as he pleased. He drank, ate, coupled and danced as much as he wanted for as long as he wanted, knowing no one could or would say a word against it. Every pleasure, every pain, every piece of land, valuables or person was his to use and abuse. H...

  “Ever since I could comprehend the taste of metal , I knew my flesh to be weak. It wasn’t the simple practice of using tools, nor the worship of the machine through physical touch, but the literal taste of metal pressed on my tongue. It was the way in which the blade hit my taste buds, that delicious metallic flavor that made me feel in contact with the God of the Machine . That was a taste of divinity, but it was also a show of my weakness, the desires of the flesh that made me think of bliss when I should have considered the danger to my life. When the thugs of the inquisitor made me savor their blades in mockery, before the holy Tech Adept saved me from their corruption, I was enraptured in divine bliss when I should have understood my position. The flesh is weak, my brothers, so make sure to remember-” “Too wordy.” Malacheus turned around, seeing his brother and underling shaking his head. “Get to the point.” “The point?” He could have strangled him, stabbed him through his...

 The thud that his power pack made was not loud enough. Not as echoey as it should be. “Is that a word? ‘Echoey?’” Mike turned to Jaz expecting an answer or something. “Eh.” Was all he got from his Catachan comrade. “Aight, but you get me, yes?” He insisted. “No one gets you, Mikol.” She reiterated, if not in words then definitely in humor. “C'mon, power packs are meant to be heavy, therefore they make a very loud thud when hitting the floor. Am I right? Yue?” If Jaz was unwilling to converse, Yue was disgusted by the mere concept. At least judging by how they were already settling down for the night. “Please tell me you're not going to sleep already.” Mike practically begged. “Then I won't tell you,” was the Cadian ’s reply. “You will infer something from my snoring though.” “You overestimate his intelligence.” Corroborated Jaz to which they both snickered together, much to Mike’s dismay. “Don't give me that!” He yelled at them as they laughed. “I am right! It is too...

Lucia mira por la ventana, pensando. Hace tiempo que vé todo, no a través de la ventana si no en su cabeza. Piensa en su mamá, cansada, harta de todo. Piensa en su papá, cansado, negado a ver el bien en nada que no sea dinero. Ningune es mala persona, pero no necesitan serlo. La manera en la que se ven entre sí está armada, prefabricada. No es que no haya amor, quizás lo hay, es que tienen una deficiencia para explorar sus emociones. Una deficiencia que hace tiempo se volvió una elección. Por otro lado, ¿Y ella? Ha hecho mucho trabajo, le ha metido mucha garra. Pero aunque le cueste, lo hace. El tema es que con una brújula rota es difícil saber dónde estás. ¿Cuánto exagera al reaccionar con tristeza? ¿Dónde y en qué contexto gritar es poco apropiado? ¿Con quiénes y durante qué conversaciones es adecuado llorar? Lucía piensa, como siempre ha hecho. Taza de café en mano, mejilla pegada al vidrio frío sobre el que gotea la lluvia. Duele, quizás hay algo de masoquismo en ello. Quizás es qu...

Faith Park is a remarkable place, full of wonders for all to see. Why we’ve got everything from crosses, to charms, from dried up husks, to incense and all the works! Yes sir, in here you’ll find everything your soul desires, unless of course you’re in the #enlightenment era  on your way to Nirvana. In that case we have everything and anything you’d need to keep away any material desires. Budda himself would admit to being proud of you once you’re out! But of course we ain’t narrow minded at all. Perhaps you’re more on the African side, your worship is less temple and more practice, in the fields and with the people. We know that well enough so we’ll give you every tool that you need. Or if you’re a first timer of the first nations well, every shop in here has every piece of herb, animal hide and bone that you may need for any and all of your days of worship. Now sir we of course mean no disrespect, if ya got any complaints let our chief inspector know they’ll make sure to write it...