anonymous asked:

Sylar. You seemed to really care for Elle. Why did you kill her?

I cared for my mother but I killed her too. Funny how me killing someone only matters if I have fucked them.

I killed her because she not only used me once when I was Gabriel but she lied to me. She used me as her little toy again. She led me to continue to think the Petrelli’s were my family, letting me play the good son as I worked for her and Arthur. The moment I found I she had to go. I despise being used and I despised being lied to even more. It’s once of the many reasons I instantly went after the lie detector ability after killing and burning her body. Yes, it was one of the more painful kills I had to make, but Elle had to go. She made me lose focus and become a tool instead of the unstoppable force I truly am. I gave her a second chance to redeem herself and she proved herself unworthy of my company.


Sylle’s drum solo - The Ark @ Tavastia, Helsinki 4.3.2011

chapter 2: before the cross roads.

The group of four sat in that dank room. Syll, Larry, Emily, and dakma. “I haven’t told any one this story befor.” Said Syll, seeking to reply to Larry’s inquiry. “But you people seem trustable enough.” She took a deep breath, the light in the room grow brighter. “One there was a man, from the hills north of the forest of Lowf. One day this man went on a walk through the forest of Lowf, and came out at the feet of the Black Hills. Their, at those ancient fire filled mountains, he meet a woman, unlike any woman he had ever meet. She was a spirit of fire, who lived in the caves of the Black Hills. She was beautiful, and mysterious. The two fell in love, and they had a baby, but she died birthing the child. I say died, but spirits don’t really die, they just, become so thing else.” Syll sighed a deep, heavy sigh.

     “That child was me, the man and the fire spirt were my parents. My father raised me on his own, for a few years. Then one day, he left me, in a clearing in the Lowf forest. The woods were dark, infested with monstrous beasts and seem to go on for ever. So, with no were to go, I looked inward, and I found tiger” she said, casting up an ember from her palm. The ember turned into an effigy of the beast they had all seen before. A large red tiger, with purple stripes, and tree tails. Then the ember was gone. “Tiger, and other sports of the wood, raised me. They taught me the way of spirits, and the common speak. Until, one day, not to long ago, I decided to go out and find my father. An now I’m here.” Concluded Syll.
   The group sat in silence, but only for a moment. “Why did you go to find him?” Asked Emily. Syll looked up at them, and shrugged. “I guess I wanted to know “why?”” Replied Syll. Silence, once more. “Any one got any other stories?” Queried dakma.
  “I got a tale.” Said Larry. “Seen we seem to be sharing life stories, I’ll share mine.” He said, shuffling closer to Syll’s fire. “I was born in Rech town, on the continent of dege, for to east. The last bit of civilization before the West Waste, if you could call it that. And you really couldn’t, Rech town is a hive of filth, nothing put low lives, thugs, and dark cults.” Larry said, anger coming into the left side of his face. “My family were simple, modest people, with not much to our name but a roof over our heads and enough food in our bellies. My father was a simple village sorcerer, with a penchant for light magic, and my mother was a merchant, who sold elixirs and jewelry mostly. We were content, and we were happy. Then one day…” Larry paused, a small tear came into his left eye.
    “Then one day, ween we were walking down an ally way, out behind our house, some thugs jumped use. My father tried to cast a spell at them, probably a charm of blinding, the kind that uses light to blind, not dark. But one of them stabbed him before he could aim right, hit a barrel of strange potion instead. It spilled all over me, and another of the gang members. I was waring a jacinth neckless, nothing to fancy. They rocks on it began to grow all over my body, were ever the potion had touched. I was left on the ground, petrified, will the man who killed my father, proceeded to kill my mother. I remember every thing about that man; his ghostly skin, his cauliflower ears, his purple eyes, his knife, a soul trapper dagger.” Larry paused. The rest looked about, in distress at his story. “But? If it’s a soul trapper dagger? Wouldn’t that mean…” Said Emily.
    “Yes.” Interrupted Larry. “Their souls are trapped in the blade.” There was a long silence. Lighting flashes outside, and thunder could be heard. “Ween I was finally able to move, I went to my parents, I grieved, and then I went to my home, there was nothing left. No with nothing to lose, I left that reached town, and set off. Were at first I was going, I couldn’t tell you. All I can tell you is, over time, I began to develop powers over light, like my father had. Some how, I wound up on the crystal archipelago. That were I found this.” Larry said, holding up the crystal devices that had brought him here. “I tried to get it to bring me to Rech town, so I could use it to exact my revenge. Next thing I know, I’m of side a ruin, with an eye ball and a dragon.”
    Dakma we t to place and hand on his shoulder, to comfort him. “One day I’ll find that man, and then my parents can rest. Is the least I can do.
    “S’pose it my turn.” Said Emily. “I was born in a small town, along the river Onog, in the snaking flats of the continent of Sothro. When I was a small child, I fell ill. All the sorcerers, and heelers, and shamans could do nothing for me. So my parents went up the river Onog, to where the river began, in a cave in the serpents hills. There they found the spirt if the river, the dragon Onog. They beeped with the spirit, begging for my Heath to return to me. The dragon rose up from its pool, and slithered into me. My hair turned green. Then my strength returned to me, and I was well again.
   As the years went by, strange things began to happen. Ween ever I was very sad, or very angry, or very afraid, I’d turn, from a child to a great winged serpent. I turned into the Onog. When I am like this, I had very little control, but not none.
   Then one day, after a very long raining season, the river flooded, and everyone in my village died.” Emily’s face went solum, and somber as she said this. Her voice went low, and she continued. “Everyone, except me, I survived. Ween the waters rushed through the streets, and into the homes, I was more scared than I had ever been in my life. So I became the Onog, and flew away. After a will of flying, I circled back to the village. There was nothing left.” Emily bared their head in their legs.
   “With nowhere else to go, I flew north. Then the sea started attacking me, and I crashed into this tower.” They toke their head out of their legs, and looked up at the ruined building.”
    A silence, broken by thunder. The group looked around at Dakma. “Well eye guy, do you have a yarn to spin?” Asked Larry. Dakma looked around at the group, and leaned in closer to Syll’s fire. “Well… long ago the there was a giant, called Sidala. This giant came from the sky, and ruled over the lizards of the Jungle of Shadow. That’s just east of were you from.” Thought Dakma, turning over to Emily. “Where was I, oh yeah. So, aster years of living under the giants yoke, the lizards rose up and dismembered it, slipping the big creature up into seven small creature. I am one of those. Sense then I’ve wondered the world, seeking to further my telepathic power. But ever were I went, I was shunned, scored, and attacked. I’m lucky to be sitting here with you lot. So I went with my trinkets, to settle down in the forest of Lalw, were no man dare enter. But then I learned why no man dare enter it, it’s filled with all sorts of crazy shissa. So left the forest for the grass land beyond it. Saw this tower in the distance and though, I could crash their.”
     The rain stopped, and the thunder faded into an echo, then silence. The group looked about the room. Dakma crossed his legs, and rested his large head on them. Emily curled up in a ball on the floor. Larry lay down on the ground. Syll went into a meditation sit. And they all fell asleep.


Official music video of Mary Syll’s ‘Shut me Up’!

Video shot and edited by Cindy de Bruijn (Silent Power Productions)

Music produced and arranged by Thomas Florusse (Turning Tides Music)

Silent Power Productions 2014©

Piketty and the non-applicability of neoclassical economics

Originally posted on Real-World Economics Review Blog:

from Lars Syll

In yours truly’s On the use and misuse of theories and models in economics the author of Capital in the Twenty-First Centuryis criticized for not being prepared to fully take the consequences of marginal productivity theory — and the alleged close connection between productivity and remuneration postulated in mainstream…

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Tny syll pyipsy vni mohy obiet cy, tny syll pyipsy vni vass by lod aj A vihk culysj ti dyotn/o-lnihtyh-sajylpor. Tny cihy jhyysu A mor peln culysj, tny cihy pityrtaos giid A mor di. Couby at’l bylt aj A irsu nysp pyipsy jhic o daltormy.

Vnu oc A mhuarg?

Bymoely A hyosafy A'ss by osiry, bet A dir’t vort ti by?

Ri cottyh.  Lemn aryjjamayrt ottomncyrtl mor by dytomnyd ojtyh o dou ih li. Welt saky vatn cu dylahy ti hyeraty vatn cu kerg je jocasu tnot cizyd bomk vatnar herrarg daltormy.