Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 6, 2016 23:18:50 GMT -5
Back to the warfront in Poland. It was probably a good thing, Natalya considered, that Iryna didn't know where she was and Ivan, even if he did know, was likely just glad that Natalya wasn't even trying to rebel, was likely glad that she was fairly clearly fighting for him. She didn't doubt he knew where she was, but he didn't have to have any reason for it, and that was perfectly okay. As long as Iryna never found out and figured out how to put the pieces together, she'd be saved having to explain herself for a little longer.
At least this time, she'd willingly come out in the middle of the day. That was somewhat more healthy, right? Gunfire blazed around her, though it was slowing down. Well. Not the 'middle of the day', exactly, the sun was still setting, which was odd. How long, exactly, had it been? Given the time of year, sunset was not too late, so she'd probably be fine- she aimed another gunshot with uncanny aim, despite her shaking limbs. She was in the middle of a group of ordinary soldiers, a blend made mostly of Russian soldiers, but with other nationalities within them. She was the only Belarusian, but that was normal. They were an increasingly rare species. It was not just her nationality that caused her to stand out- even in a mostly unremarkable uniform, it was very clear she was something different from her skill alone.
There was a proper break in the fighting, then, and she was on the back line. One man- a Russian who had been fighting next to her for quite a decent length of time, tapped her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she lied.
"Because, see, you look terrible," the man said. "You're shaking, I know for a fact that you didn't eat at your last opportunity, you have terrible bags under your eyes, and I've noticed you touching your head. You're also clearly angry."
"I'm always angry," Natalya said idly, "and you have much better things to be doing than watching me." Really, she was unnerved by this. She knew she'd been by some of these men and women for some time now, trying to blast a hole in just about everything that she saw (and also, perhaps, blast a hole in the bit of her that was growing ever-increasingly hopeless), but she didn't think she'd been so obvious to any of them. Part of the benefit of being out here, besides, was supposed to be that she did not have to entirely pretend everything was okay.
"I doubt it's like this," he said, "because I recognize it. You're sharing my meds until you get your head out of your ass and see someone." Oh. Now Natalya remembered why this man would have noticed, and no one else here might have.
"That's illegal and will potentially get you court martialed," Natalya said, before pausing, and adding with something that maybe just might have been concern, "and I also didn't see most of my platoon blown up in front of me. You need them more."
"And yet, you're still sleeping worse than me," the man said, glancing at her uniform. It identified her as from Belarus. She supposed that was all he needed to know. It did not take much to guess why someone from Belarus might be a bit angry at the world at the moment. Still. She had better hope that no one in her immediate circle got the idea to interview soldiers she was fighting with.
"I will report you," she said with very little actual malice. The man looked as though he was about to say something else, but at that moment, Natalya looked up. A few seconds later, a small communicator- one of the few that worked through the signal jammers- went off in her pocket. It was a text communicator, which she sometimes prefered on days like these anyway. She didn't really need to read what it said, though. She could feel it. "Although it seems I have something that needs being done." She swept away, back towards the active battlefield, cursing her horrid luck, not giving the man another word in edgewise.
Back out on the active battlefield, she already knew what she was looking for. Her communication had been from someone who knew who she was. It would appear she was the only active Nation on this part of the active front- or at least, the only one from their side. It didn't take very long to figure out who the other one was, either. Her fighting style was distinctive, and while they hadn't fought often, Natalya recognized it anyway.
Great. The last thing she needed today was to run into someone who actually knew her, even if only a bit, through the camaraderie of hating Prussia and Natalya's careful watching of anyone who even attempted to be friends with her family. Someone Natalya respected and considered- well, not a friend, but she was certainly better company than most Nations around here. Someone, in other words, who might actually notice or say something.
So instead of actually trying to greet miss Hungary, Natalya pulled out her gun- a standard-issue military rifle this time, for, despite her preference for pistols, she had been staying along the main line of the front at first- and fired off two shots. They weren't her best-aimed shots, not today, and it was likely Hungary would see them coming before she even pulled the trigger, but she had no desire to try to talk. Best to just get this over with.
At least this time, she'd willingly come out in the middle of the day. That was somewhat more healthy, right? Gunfire blazed around her, though it was slowing down. Well. Not the 'middle of the day', exactly, the sun was still setting, which was odd. How long, exactly, had it been? Given the time of year, sunset was not too late, so she'd probably be fine- she aimed another gunshot with uncanny aim, despite her shaking limbs. She was in the middle of a group of ordinary soldiers, a blend made mostly of Russian soldiers, but with other nationalities within them. She was the only Belarusian, but that was normal. They were an increasingly rare species. It was not just her nationality that caused her to stand out- even in a mostly unremarkable uniform, it was very clear she was something different from her skill alone.
There was a proper break in the fighting, then, and she was on the back line. One man- a Russian who had been fighting next to her for quite a decent length of time, tapped her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she lied.
"Because, see, you look terrible," the man said. "You're shaking, I know for a fact that you didn't eat at your last opportunity, you have terrible bags under your eyes, and I've noticed you touching your head. You're also clearly angry."
"I'm always angry," Natalya said idly, "and you have much better things to be doing than watching me." Really, she was unnerved by this. She knew she'd been by some of these men and women for some time now, trying to blast a hole in just about everything that she saw (and also, perhaps, blast a hole in the bit of her that was growing ever-increasingly hopeless), but she didn't think she'd been so obvious to any of them. Part of the benefit of being out here, besides, was supposed to be that she did not have to entirely pretend everything was okay.
"I doubt it's like this," he said, "because I recognize it. You're sharing my meds until you get your head out of your ass and see someone." Oh. Now Natalya remembered why this man would have noticed, and no one else here might have.
"That's illegal and will potentially get you court martialed," Natalya said, before pausing, and adding with something that maybe just might have been concern, "and I also didn't see most of my platoon blown up in front of me. You need them more."
"And yet, you're still sleeping worse than me," the man said, glancing at her uniform. It identified her as from Belarus. She supposed that was all he needed to know. It did not take much to guess why someone from Belarus might be a bit angry at the world at the moment. Still. She had better hope that no one in her immediate circle got the idea to interview soldiers she was fighting with.
"I will report you," she said with very little actual malice. The man looked as though he was about to say something else, but at that moment, Natalya looked up. A few seconds later, a small communicator- one of the few that worked through the signal jammers- went off in her pocket. It was a text communicator, which she sometimes prefered on days like these anyway. She didn't really need to read what it said, though. She could feel it. "Although it seems I have something that needs being done." She swept away, back towards the active battlefield, cursing her horrid luck, not giving the man another word in edgewise.
Back out on the active battlefield, she already knew what she was looking for. Her communication had been from someone who knew who she was. It would appear she was the only active Nation on this part of the active front- or at least, the only one from their side. It didn't take very long to figure out who the other one was, either. Her fighting style was distinctive, and while they hadn't fought often, Natalya recognized it anyway.
Great. The last thing she needed today was to run into someone who actually knew her, even if only a bit, through the camaraderie of hating Prussia and Natalya's careful watching of anyone who even attempted to be friends with her family. Someone Natalya respected and considered- well, not a friend, but she was certainly better company than most Nations around here. Someone, in other words, who might actually notice or say something.
So instead of actually trying to greet miss Hungary, Natalya pulled out her gun- a standard-issue military rifle this time, for, despite her preference for pistols, she had been staying along the main line of the front at first- and fired off two shots. They weren't her best-aimed shots, not today, and it was likely Hungary would see them coming before she even pulled the trigger, but she had no desire to try to talk. Best to just get this over with.
