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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 6, 2015 20:39:52 GMT -5
It was much too hot, humid, and altogether too sticky, Natalya found, especially compared to home. Her hair, which normally began carefully brushed, stuck hot to her neck in some places and frazzled in the sky in others, only slightly tamed by that white ribbon that held it up. If it weren't for Venezuela's useful goal of the Panama Canal, really, Natalya would have wondered why Ivan cared at all. The weather was rainy some days and painfully humid the others, the wildlife was full of large, potentially deadly creatures, and it really seemed an unpleasant place altogether. However, taking the Panama Canal and the ability to quickly move their navy from the Atlantic to the Pacific was too tempting to pass up. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd disliked it, anyway. Ivan had wanted her here, so she was here.
Behind her, the front line sat only about a mile away. Jets streaked overhead, having to be careful not to set the trees around them into an all-out wildfire. Flashes occasionally filled the horizon. Gunshots and explosions sounded out over the gap. Natalya didn't oay it any attention. Why should she? It wasn't directly in front of her, and such sounds were hardly uncommon nowadays, hardly uncommon at all. Instead, she paid attention to the current encampment of the Joint Pact, where their Generals and Commanders wrote orders from a safe distance, close to the front lines but not too close, able to move their tents and make-shift buildings to stay out of fire if necissary. Natalya practically scoffed. Oh, she understood why they were where they were, she understood why they couldn't be on the front lines. Still, they were soldiers too, and she herself often found herself on the battlefield despite her high-ranking uniform.
Natalya was in uniform today, the cloth sticking to her back in the humid Venezuelan air. It wasn't horribly adorned. The emblem of her armed forces was sewn into her uniform, but the rest was Russian in design. A small Mark indicated that she was privy to state secrets. Another alerted the highest-ranking generals of who she was. None of them were Belorussian, and she suspected she was the only Belorussian even on this front, so none of them would be able to feel the presence of their Nation in front of them at all. The mark was necissary.
Natalya slid through the camp, balancing a knife in her hands, spinning it through her fingers in an elaborate flashing dance. Light glinted off of the blades as she absently wove it through her hands. People moved out of her way. She could handle a knife with nearly inhuman accuracy. She wasn't even paying attention. Instead, she was doing what she intended to do: find Ivan's tent, and see what it was he wanted. Talk strategy, or simply talk. It didn't matter. Whatever Ivan wanted, it would be okay. So as a knife gleamed through her hands and trained soldiers subconsciously shifted to give her space- cowards- she sought a door. Last time she'd visited this front, the camp had been elsewhere, after all. Last time she'd visited this front, the Joint Pact hadn't quite gotten so far. Now they were pushing up against it, an immovable object combined with an unstoppable force to deal an inrresistable march forward.
There. There was the tent she was looking for. She slid through the door, standing tall as she came in. "Ivan," she said, "I am here." And with that, she took a few long, graceful, slightly menacing steps until she was directly by his side, where she was meant to be.
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Post by Russia - Ivan Braginsky on Apr 7, 2015 0:00:50 GMT -5
Ivan liked South America, not for the thick humidity that clung to his uniform or the quite common mosquitos and other insects. No, he quite hated all those little annoyances. He liked South America for its close proximity to America’s home. The boy played his games from afar under the protection of two oceans. He did not feel the wounds of destruction or feel the blood of death seeping into his land. He lived in his safe bubble, moving pieces as a puppeteer. Ivan hoped to grab hold of those strings and yank the boy down and onto the stage with the rest of them. Only a matter of time. He would help Venezuela reach his true potential.
He leaned over the map with Russian and Venezuelan officials. “Bolivia has already set theirs in motions. We should assume the Allegiance is already suspicious of their behavior. It is for that reason, we must act quickly. No mistakes,” his eyes ran across each official, serious and cold, not matching the playful smile on his lips. It had taken some time for Ivan to send a small part of his naval forces to South America. It was small compared to the rest, but he needed it in Europe against England and Finland in particular. He certainly felt stretched. His military was by far the strongest it had been since the Cold War, but no matter how quickly his people worked to build more, it could not keep up with the demand. He had spread himself across the world almost too thin. He needed to successfully choke the allegiance of their supplies and transports if he were to continue to prevent them from pushing back against the lines. The ships he had brought to Venezuela were small, but they would suffice.
He would have not noticed his sister’s presence if her voice did not ignite a natural chill down his spine. He loved his sister, Natalya, but anyone with a mere shred of intelligence could recognize how truly terrifying she could be at times. She no longer mistook their relationship outside those of familiar love, but when she had…
He inwardly shuttered at the thought. He remembered barricading his door during the nights, still unable to sleep with fear he might wake to her on top of him. Da, she could be very…persistent.
Yet this was not the same Natalya he knew all those years ago. She was not the sweet one who clung to his arm as a child or the one who had clawed at his doors begging for something he could not offer her. For the past ten years since she returned home, he had tried to determine what had changed. She looked to be his ever loyal sister, his sister who he could trust with anything and know she would not betray him. He loved her.
But she had betrayed him…
She had ran away and left him alone, left him to search. He never once considered his sisters betraying him. At the end of the Cold War, they had left, he understood. He was weak, frozen numb in front of the fire, vodka in hand, mind blank. He remembered Ukraine coming to him with tears in her eyes and kissing his forehead before saying they had to leave, saying it wasn’t a choice, but they had too. Ivan didn’t speak a word. He let them leave. He couldn’t protect them. He didn’t deserve them in his life, but he tried. He tried so hard after they left to become strong again, to become the brother they deserved. He did not attack their land out of hate. He had done so out of love. He thought they understood, and yet they ran and fought. They…betrayed him.
It was many years ago. A foolish mistake, he kept reminding himself. His family loved each other, and even if the world were to fall apart around them, they would always have one another.
He stood straighter from the table in the center and turned to his sister with a soft smile, “Natalya, I’m pleased you are here. We will make great progress today,” he stated before turning to the officials, “Your directions are clear. We will start at dusk. Please inform the men.” His words were clear and sweet, an obvious hint of demand that all were required to leave the tent. He waited until each official had left before turning back to his sister. He giggled softly and reached out and touched a strand of her hair, holding it up in the air, “Humidity is not your friend it seems.”
He dropped it and cupped her face in a sweet gentle way, “I tease. My sister is always beautiful.” He then let his hand fall away and turned back to map, “We will have it tonight, Natalya. I am certain.” His eyes locked on the panama canal on the map, “But I will need your help.”
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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 7, 2015 12:56:01 GMT -5
Natalya cast a dark shadow over the map as she glanced over it. It appeared to have some amount of naval ships marked across it. That was not something she was good at or preferred to deal with. She was much more adept when there were trees or land to hide and move around. Her land was landlocked, and perhaps that was part of why she was so naturally nervous without dry land beneath her, not that she'd ever show it. She did not understand the ocean's appeal at all. She'd leave the navy to Ivan, then, since it was something he was more capable of than she. She was more interested in the infantry positions on the map. She quickly took to memory the locations of troops and artillery battlements, tanks and trenches. A picture formed relatively quickly in her mind. It was a skill worth honing during war, of course.
Even when the tent was quiet, the sounds from around them continued. Was there no silence in this place? The only redeeming quality that Natalya had found in Venezuela so far was the trees. Unfamiliar trees, true, but trees all the same. She could work with forests. She was used enough to those, even if these forests were many times different than the ones she knew from home. They were, at least, more familiar than the thick humidity that scoured the air around her. It was such that she couldn't even quite tell when the humidity would suddenly change to rain and drench everyone who dared stand in its path again. She'd be glad to leave. She looked at the map again, though, and made something near a smile. With fate's allowance, it appeared it wouldn't be too long. Not too long at all...
Ah. Ivan had finished speaking and turned around to greet her. Natalya's lips quirked slightly. "Indeed," she said almost cooly, though those that knew her night realize that the seemingly cool words were as close to warm as she typically got. Progress indeed. It looked as though their battles were reaching a critical point in this area. Soon Ivan would be able to move his ships as he pleased. Natalya would make sure of that, hopefully from dry land. As much as her brother may have liked her to, she continued to have no plans to board any sort of boat. She would if she must, but Natalya at least hoped that, should she board one, she'd end up boarding the enemy's as well. It was much easier for her to use the same tactics she used on dry land in such an occasion. The other officials marched away at Ivan's words. At least one seemed to glance back at her warily. Natalya paid him no mind, the shadow she'd cast over the map almost- perhaps not truly, but almost- seemed to dance a step out of time. Then they were gone, and she could truly focus on her brother.
Ivan grabbed her hair and she brushed a little out of her face. "I do not like this weather," she agreed. "There is far too much water for my tastes." Still, Natalya was very nearly smiling. She may not have thought of Ivan romantically, or at least, not anymore, but she thought of him kindly, and she liked it whenever he treated her kindly in kind. She liked it when he brushed his hands against his cheeks. She grabbed his wrist softly in return, giving him that near-smile that almost held some sort of real warmth. Ivan was her brother, and he was kind. And then she dropped his wrist as he dropped his hand and her expression fell almost back into its default colder glance. Only her closest siblings would see that it hadn't, not entirely.
She looked back at the map. "Yes. We are quite close," she said, looking over the coveted area itself. "It will be soon, and I will help how you. Ivan. What is it you need me to do?"
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Post by Russia - Ivan Braginsky on Apr 7, 2015 23:30:00 GMT -5
To say Ivan felt tired would be quite an understatement. He had been at the forefront of this war and the many others across the world decades. His shoes had walked across many nations, his hands had tightened on to multiple weapons, his skin had been drenched with so much blood. He knew his citizens felt tired as well, he could feel them in his chest, in his mind, asking for a day of rest, asking for it to end. Oh, how he wished he could close his eyes and sleep for a year if only to awake to find the world at it should be. He hoped for the day he would not fall asleep questioning himself why he cared so much, why was it his responsibility to help the world.
As the smile plays across his sister’s lips, he is reminded of the answer. It was the right thing to do. A storm must come through if one is to witness the beauty of a rainbow. His sister held proof of that, the torture of fighting her, taking her country and people, feeling like he might be in the wrong, it had been a huge storm that raged over them, and yet…here they stood. Next to each other, together, and he had caught sight of her rare beautiful smile, it made him smile as well. The other nations fought him. America, England, Germany, they fought, but once Ivan finally wins the war, he knew he would eventually see their smiles as well. Real genuine smiles of friendship. They would all be friends. Yes, one day.
A new spark grew inside his chest, as his sister asked for her orders, and his smile grew. They would win. He knew they would. He suspected America to trip on himself when he found out of his losses in South America. If the boy was intelligent he had flown to South America the moment they caught wind of Soviet ships sailing down the Atlantic, and if Ivan were being honest, he knew the boy was here. It had become a second sense in way. If they both were present on a particular war front, he could sense it, the radiation of power near. Similar to the feeling of being watched, you knew it was there, yet you could not prove it. It could all be in Ivan’s mind, his paranoia often got the best of him when it came to America, but he swore he could feel a shift in atmosphere the moment America arrived on the battlegrounds. In the end, it did not matter. America could not stop him now. He would not fail when he was so close to tilting this section of the world to their side.
He pointed to the canal, not looking up at his sister, knowing she would be listening carefully. “We do not have direct ground access to the canal. It’s behind the Allegiance line,” he started, his finger following the clear line driven in Columbia. He stood straighter away from the map, “I will be with my men on the naval forces. I would like you to sneak a group of our best men past the front line,” he smiled. “You have always held quite a talent of hiding under people’s nose, yes?” the words were playful, though there was a hidden edge, a remark to the time she had done such actions to him.
He then took a step forward and placed his arm on her shoulder, his free hand going to her chin and tilting it up, so their eyes locked, “I know you can do this, but I must make it clear, it will be far more dangerous than any other mission,” he paused, his lips pressing together debating how to phrase it. They were many moving parts to his plan, and he planned to explain most to her.
“Our goal is simple. We will acquire the Panama Canal….or we will destroy it,” his words simple, but it weigh volumes on what he expected of tonight.
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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 10, 2015 21:22:05 GMT -5
For a moment, Natalya could practically feel her brother's love around her, and she forgot all of her doubts. Ivan was all that mattered now, anyway. There wasn't any good cause to doubt him, to think that he'd been hiding things (he thought she didn't know that her country still flamed with insurrection from time to time, or at least, of that she was fairly certain). She'd bury the world and give what was left to him, if she had to (if she had time). Her brother and her sister would be happy. And she's be happier, too, if they would just be happy (they didn't particularly need her, but she'd steal all of their attention until they realized that, or until- well, they'd realize that, she was certain).
But then the moment passed and her not-quite-cold expression returned and she remembered that there was still a reason to keep some distance. She loved her family. She'd do anything for Ivan. But sappy emotions had no place where she stood and neither had blind trust. Iryna and Ivan, well, she trusted them deeply and loved them deeply, but- she looked back to the map, following Ivan's motions, and shuttered her heart away again for the moment. Now was not the time or the place. Her place was here, by Ivan's side, and she should not question it, even if it was quite funny, how in a moment it had changed from "could not question" to "should not question", as though once, there would have been no question at all.
(Quiet. Ivan is speaking. Pay attention. He is your brother, quiet, quiet, and he shall take the world, because if you can't have it, and you were never meant to, he can take it in your stead. Quiet. It doesn't matter. He's your brother, and nothing's changed that, nothing at all.)
Natalya looked over the map as her brother gestured. She nodded quietly. Yes. The Panama Canal had always been behind enemy lines, but she could practically hear it today. She could practically hear Ivan's troops reaching it. Of course, it wouldn't be easy, but- yes. Her eyes had already began to trace her brother's plan just before he spoke it, already suspecting what his orders and strategies would be. She knew Ivan well, better than she even knew the bastard Pole or Lithuania, perhaps even better than she knew Iryna. She did not strategize in the same way as he did naturally. Indeed, in recent years Natalya had suddenly grown very used to using limited resources to cause the greatest chaos in a limited area. This was not what Ivan would aim for. He saw a bigger picture. It was one thing Natalya had often admired her brother for, really. He made the limitless deaths on a sea of blood a little bit more meaningful than another week, another hour, another month, another day, another minute of keep-away.
Still, why Ivan felt the need to quietly jab at her, Natalya did not understand. She was here now, was she not? Back at Ivan's side, like had always been intended. "Of course. Do you have men for me to chose from?" she asked. She knew her brother understood that she did not suffer cowards under her leadership. She knew Ivan would likely have already picked out his own best men, since no Belarusian men were present that Natalya could chose from. As for the comment about her ability to hide, well, she just nodded her head. It was a simple truth. It was easy to sneak past enemies on her own, though often easier simply to kill them all before they could call the alert. When with others, they would report that she seemed to have a sixth sense for enemies. She did have a sixth sense, and it did help her avoid the enemy, but not quite like that (spirits weren't often talkative but their movements could be telling).
And then Ivan stepped forwards and lifted her chin and her eyes met his, her own unfathomable mask of an expression meeting his and both of them reading them anyway. She was briefly glad her fever was quite low, comparatively, today. He'd certainly have noticed if it had been any higher at all, but as it was, it could pass off as her having been in the humid, sweltering climate around them. She gazed at him and nearly nodded, though she kept eye contact. "Danger is no issue here, Ivan. Not for you." Her voice was flat- it was rarely anything but flat, really- but a slight movement of her eyes and a slightly warmer flatness once more give her affection away. Yes. Why had she ever doubted the affection? (Ivan was an intoxicating man, but somehow she was not yet quite drunk.)
Natalya nodded once more. "I understand," she said, noting Ivan's goals. And then she turned. "I will leave when you have the men ready."
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Post by Russia - Ivan Braginsky on Apr 11, 2015 21:37:42 GMT -5
Ivan might have been getting ahead of himself, but he did not see how the Allegiance could possibly halt his growth in South America. His biggest threats in South America were Brazil, Canada, and America himself. The other nation did not stand a chance, and he had the perfect distraction keep the three major powers in this particular battle ground fairly occupied this evening.
His gloved thumb traced along his sister’s jawline. He knew she would not disappoint him. Since recognizing her mistake and once again returning to his side, she had become one of his most valued assets in the war. She would do things requested of her without question and return with successful results. Even his best trained spies could not accomplish the tasks she could behind enemies lines. He held great respect for her.
“Yes, they are my best men, though you may choose which you wish to come with you,” he answered, knowing his sister had high standards. For that reason when Venezuela had offered his own men, Ivan had giggled softly and dismissed the idea immediately. He knew none would meet his sister’s standards, and if anything the Venezuelans would have been terrified as soon as her eyes landed on them.
He let her slip from his fingers like water and watched as she turned. He smiled softly. She was always so quick to move to work, yet they still had a few hours before dusk. He walked up behind her, his form towering over her shorter form as it did many others. “I must also inform you, while you are on the Eastern Front, I have order my men to light the Western one on fire,” he stated in a childish tone, as if the idea were a fun toy and not a war strategy. “The Amazon will burn tonight, and it will burn quite brightly. I suspect Brazil and the others will not be willing to let the precious resources go to harm’s way, so their eyes should be busy elsewhere,” he finished. Normally, it was considered a hindrance to fight two fronts one on both sides, however in times such as this you can focus your enemies attention to one instead of another.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, turning his chin in to lay a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I have full faith you can accomplish our task,” he smiled against her hair before stepping back and around her.
“I will take you to the men. I hope they met your standards, though your standards for men have always been quite high, sister,” he teased with a smile before stepping out of the tent.
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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 14, 2015 14:22:25 GMT -5
Natalya thought to herself, while looking at her brother, that Ivan's eyes and her own were quite a bit different, even if they were siblings. Ivan's were violently violet. Natalya could never mistake them for someone else's, nor could she mistake the way they sometimes glowed or sometimes softened or turned to some kind of amethyst knife or anything else. She doubted anyone else's expressed themselves in quite the same way, though she wouldn't necessarily know. She'd never been as close with anyone else as she was to Ivan. Her own eyes were an almost unreadable mask, almost blue in color most days. Some days, though, they were nearly red, only barely purple. Today, they were somewhere in between. That would likely change soon.
She was glad Ivan had had selected men then, at least, and that he was giving her final choice. Natalya wouldn't stand for cowards, but she also couldn't stand for men who remembered her face, who looked at her in some kind of wonder or fear for a reputation she deserved, but didn't need reflected in her own troops. She also prefered men who listened to her orders with only a minimum of questioning, even if they seemed stupid at the time. She would not see them dead because they couldn't See the way she could.
Ivan's plan, too- it was, in her mind, quite smart. She vaguely remembered meetings, before they went the way of the dodo as they tended to do, in which Brazil or some other country would start on the issue of the Amazon. Of how it was a rainforest worth protecting, that more needed to be done to protect it, that there were some number of species that lived there that lived nowhere else, thank you very much, and that it was better than any other forest. Setting it aflame? Oh, that would draw all of Brazil's attention, certainly. Only- she brushed aside a strand of hair that had once again stuck to her forehead- "How do you plan for it to spread in such a wet climate?" she asked, her slight annoyance at that climate likely only notable to her brother. She didn't doubt Ivan could, of course, but this place was always either raining or painfully humid. She was curious.
And then, once again, her nearly-soft almost-smile appeared for her brother. "Of course," she said quietly, looking him in the eyes once again for a moment. Then they both broke the moment, Natalya perfectly content to go fight her end of the battle while Ivan fought his. They'd both end up fine.
She fell in step behind her brother. She made a noise that, on a less composed Nation, might have been a huff. "My standards are high because they must be," she said, something in her eyes suggesting that they perfectly well should be, as she stepped outside the tent.
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I was deleted!
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Post by Deleted on Apr 17, 2015 0:42:24 GMT -5
Making his way quite rapidly through the tents is a young man who looks barely old enough to be in a war, let alone wearing such a high-ranking uniform. Which would be odd enough if it weren't for the fact that there's another, slightly younger man right on his heels. But enough of Vicente's top men are accustomed to the youthful appearance of their country and his top aide that this is not why they take special notice of his passing. No, it's the furious twist of the youth's features that has caught their attention. Not that seeing him angry is that unusual of a sight, but it's still enough to make them wonder if they ought to be concerned this time or not.
His aide certainly is. "You must calm down, Vicente! Are you forgetting this is Russia?" he asks tugging at the nation's arm in an attempt to slow him down.
Sighing in annoyance at that, he stops and turns, "I'm not forgetting it's Russia, Pablo, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to do something very stupid."
That announcement causes Pablo to be at a loss for words for an instant - it's not like Vicente to admit that he's going to do something stupid. "What?" he manages after a pause.
"I am going to put the Russian in his place. He has no right to treat me this way! And if I do not make him understand how I must be treated, he will think that he can get away with anything," Vicente explains, the anger in his eyes now very much apparent in his voice as well.
"But he is bigger than you! Have you not heard what he does to people?" Pablo objects, clearly alarmed by the very idea.
"And what if I don't do it? Do you not remember what happened to mother's side of the family?" Vicente asks with a certain dark expression.
"What? That has nothing to do with this!" Pablo protests, though he can't say that he's surprised that Vicente would go there. The nation can get quite paranoid sometimes. Then again, maybe it's justified with Russia...
"It has everything to do with this, Pablo!" Vicente responds, but then he forces himself to take a deep breath before he adds, "But don't worry, I will use..." He has to stop, struggling to remember the word.
"Tact?" Pablo suggests.
"Yeah, that. But just in case - remind everyone that absolutely nobody does anything except on my orders. I don't care what the Russian says, if I'm not there personally giving the orders, nobody is to listen, understand?" Vicente tells him, his serious tone indicating that he doesn't want to hear any arguments about that.
"Understood..." Pablo replies, looking worried.
This time as as Vicente continues on, Pablo doesn't follow. Which is good, he doesn't want him getting caught up in this. And it makes it easier for him to try to calm his anger, or at least try to. It's not a skill that he has a lot of, but he has some ability to control himself. A little...
It's not very long before he spots the nation that he's looking for stepping out of the tent one of his generals mentioned when they spoke of the meeting that just finished - the one that he was apparently not invited to, though he certainly should have been! Taking another deep breath, he approaches. "What is this that I am hearing about you meeting with my generals without me? Is this a polite thing to do in your country?" he asks, managing to keep his tone merely somewhat irritated instead of in a complete rage. Of course, that's mostly because he sincerely hopes that Ivan was simply thoughtless, rather than all the other worse things that it could mean - being thoughtless is still definitely a problem, but a manageable one at least.
italics = Spanish
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Post by Russia - Ivan Braginsky on Apr 17, 2015 10:46:37 GMT -5
Ivan greatly disliked war. It made him sad and tired. He did not like seeing his people die, nor the color of snow turning to red, but he certainly had a talent for it. After so many years of fighting to protect oneself you become quite an expert in the art of war, predicting what your enemy’s move before they themselves have even thought of it. Only one nation had the capability to match his own strategic expertise, but that the nation had far too much to lose. It made determining his weaknesses far too easy. The Amazon was one of many he knew his enemy did not wish to lose.
Not only was his sister beautiful, but she also held remarkable intelligence. He gave her a soft smile at her question. If anyone else were to ask something similar, he would have not been as kind. His sister’s question was out of curiosity and not disrespect. He chuckled at her disheveled appearance due to the heat. She looked quite out of place in such a warm humid environment. Natalya reminded him of ice. Sharp and dangerous and strangely refreshing if used on the right occasions. Her eyes held the same character, glaring or melting depending on the small shifts in her emotionless mask. “It makes it harder, da,” he answered, “I have scheduled planes to spray fuel throughout the forest closet to the front. The Allegiance will be left confused until we ignite from above and the ground. Of course, I also plan to bombard it with explosions as well.” He chuckled. It will be the most activity the Eastern South America Front has seen in sometime, especially since both sides had been avoiding the rain forest due to its value and difficulty maneuvering through.
He walked out with his sister, smiling softly. He wondered who would finally capture his sister’s heart. They would also have the met his standards as well, and those he suspected to be even higher. As he considered the idea, he came to a realization. He had not seen his sister with a suitor before.
He did not ponder it for long before he caught sight of a short nation storming towards them. A small kind smile held in place as he waited for the approaching nation. He chuckled at his words. He worked with Venezuela in the past. He was so young and small, but out of all the South America countries, he preferred Venezuela. He reached out and shuffled the boy’s hair, “I did not know it was my job to inform you, little Venezuela. I would have thought your own men would do so, da?” His returned his gloved hand back to his side. No, he did not tell Venezuela of the meeting. His presence was not needed. They had already agreed to the plan the night before, he was merely instituting the orders. “You must take more time to promote proper protocol within your soldiers,” he chuckled softly and moved passed the small nation, almost dismissing him. Ivan held nothing against the younger nation. He only hoped the nation could quickly learn that the only reason he had main gains in this war was because of Ivan’s support.
“Sister, they are this way,” he spoke and started walking in the direction of the men he needed her to choose from.
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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 19, 2015 16:41:23 GMT -5
Now she saw it: this infernal rainforest, the moisture sucked out of the air by the flames her brother would set to it. Well then. That made her feel oddly satisfied. Natalya spent a moment wondering how the various members of the Alliance would react to such flames. Not only would it burn the rainforest, but it would be deadly to all who dared to touch it. She nodded, acknowledging that she saw the merits of that particular strategy. Not only would it focus the Alliance elsewhere, but it would make the Alliance have more trouble moving their troops on that front while they focussed on the fire that, knowing her brother, would be placed directly at their lines, threatening to burn their encampments if they did not work on it. A worthwhile, if destructive, strategy, and neither she nor her brother cared about the destruction. She walked out beside her brother. There was no smile on Natalya's face, though there was that composed degree of certainty she always carried herself with. It certainly helped her intimidating appearance that today was one of the steadily rarer good days. Her fever was a manageable 37.2°C and she felt better than she had in the past. The hot, sticky weather was not helping, really, but the fact that she looked even the slightest bit brighter than normal made her composition a little bit stronger than even the strong facade she normally could be found wearing. She wondered if Ivan noticed there was anything different, but her somewhat disheveled appearance due to the heat counteracted some of the effects her unusually low fever had on her appearance. Once she got outside, though, she saw a petulant looking child. Now, Natalya's physical appearance was technically rather young as well, but she tended to carry herself so like an adult that no one ever considered her a child. The child in front of her- Venezuela, correct? Yes, Venezuela- he carried himself like some teenager might. Ivan liked him, seemed not to mind overly much, but Natalya did not agree. It was unbecoming of a Nation. He was acting like Alfred, being irritating and childish. Besides, she was older than Spain's little brat. She felt she had the right to call the annoying boy a child. Her opinion of Venezuela was not helped, of course, by the fact that he did not acknowledge her presence beside her brother at all. This was a mistake. One should always acknowledge all potential threats, and, besides perhaps Ivan himself, Natalya registered top of most Nations' lists of potential threats. The boy was being particularly whiny right now, as well. She supposed he imagined himself as making some kind of stand against her brother, proving himself or something. She didn't particularly care. He was just being a petulant little boy, so she did not acknowledge him whatsoever. She briefly looked him in the eyes, her expression cold and warning, but she didn't deign much more time with him. If Venezuela had something important, well, that would be when Natalya would pay attention. For now, however, she had delegated him to unimportance. Instead, she followed after her brother. "Alright," she said, sweeping right past Venezuela in order to follow her brother. She would like to get on with things, after all. 37.2°C is about 99°F. Her normal temperature would be around 97.6°F or 96.4°C, on the lower end of normal body temperatures. So now you know. (I'm American and would use Fahrenheit, but Natalya uses Celsius in her head, so I figured people would appreciate the conversion.) |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2015 20:02:13 GMT -5
As focused as he'd been on confronting Ivan, it isn't until a moment after Vicente asks his question that he notices that the Russian isn't alone. And the moment he sees who is with him, his eyes go slightly wide and he automatically takes half a step back without even realizing. Uh-oh, it's Ivan's creepy sister... And the look that she's giving him makes him shudder inwardly.
Fortunately for him, or perhaps unfortunately, Ivan's response to his words is enough to draw his attention back to what is, to him at least, the matter at hand. The condescending ruffling of his hair, that dismissive chuckle... It's enough to both make him forget about Natalya again and force him to have to remind himself that punching Ivan in the face is a terrible, terrible idea. Literally biting his tongue as the Russian starts to walk past, he forces himself to take a deep breath.
"Oh, I see," he replies, attempting to keep his voice neutral, though he's not able to entirely mask the edge of extreme irritation in his voice, "If my concerns are of so little concern to you - my ally - then this must mean that you have no need of me." Taking another deep breath, he turns to leave as he adds, "Me or my military. That is fine with me." Though he gets an extreme case of the goosebumps, he forces himself to turn his back on them and walk, not looking back.
He expects that he'll be stopped, though if not... well, he'll figure out what he has to do. It's not like he needs Ivan, after all. He has other allies - many of them. None quite as strong, but they don't just dismiss him. Really, though, he expects to be stopped - it's the fact that he doesn't know how he'll be stopped that has him forcing his hands to be steady.
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Post by Russia - Ivan Braginsky on Apr 20, 2015 17:58:55 GMT -5
Even with the unbearable humidity that clung to his hair and clothes, he found himself in an overall quite pleasant mood. He could feel the winds of the war turning towards his direction. After so many years of little movement in the lines, they finally had a grasp of an opportunity in his hands. To lose the Amazon and potentially the Panama Canal would be unfortunate loses to his side as well. After all, the Amazon is filled with vast rare resources not found anywhere else in the world. It would certainly benefit Ivan to have such an area under his control, just as the Panama Canal would only help him further his goals, but in current circumstances, he had neither. If he could not have them, then no one would. It took many years to convince his leaders of this and his South American allies, but finally it had been accepted. South America would rise a new after a fire like a phoenix under his direction.
The thought made him content and some might even risk the word happy. He had so many reasons to be happy. Even his sister seemed happier today, though happy did not seem the correct phrase. Hmm, he could not quite pin it down. No matter, he had received a smile from her today, so she must be in as pleasant spirits as him. Naively, Ivan does not even notice the shift in his sister’s mood at Venezuela appearance, nor did he attempt to make introductions. They had met before. His mind far too distracted of hopefully upcoming success and an inch of paranoia of what the boy might be planning to stop him. He nodded at his sister’s agreement. His hands folded behind his back as he started in the direction. His sister never disappointed him. How lucky he was to be given such a talented sister…though quite odd as well…very odd.
He continued in his movements as Venezuela responded. If the boy wished to continue his train of thought, he expected him to follow or be left behind. After all, Ivan was in the middle of something, and all of his allies knew, you only interrupted Mother Russia if you had something of value to add to the conversation.
He form came to a sudden stop. He did not turn around and, therefore, was completely unaware of the little show Venezuela was attempting to try. He did not respond at first, but the air already thick with humidity became thicker. His jaw locked while his closed eye smile expression seemed frozen on his face. A dark aura seemed to surround his form. Ivan was a super power. His presence, his strength, his pure military might surrounded the air and weighed down on anyone who would get in his way. There were reasons why people did not stand up against Russia. His aura alone could suffocate a weaker nation, and Venezuela was just that, weak.
“Ah…little Venezuela,” his voice sounded childishly sweet, but there was a very evident murderous edge to each word, “You must be confused.” He slowly turned around to face the smaller boy. “I believe you mean my military,” his smile still sweetly on his face as he let the words sink in. “After all, it is not Venezuelan tanks on the ground,” he moved forward, “It is not Venezuelan guns in the hands of the men,” he closed the distance with one final step, “It is not Venezuelan nuclear weapons pointed at his enemies.” He grabbed the boy’s chin tightly and yanked it up. Ivan was one of the tallest nations in the world, second only to Sweden. His violet eyes bared into him, dark and sharp. “Do you understand, da?” his voice laced with kindness, his grip painfully tight around his chin, to the point he mind dislocate his jaw if he jerked it the right way. Russia had the strength of a super power, and the boy would be smart to remember it.
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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 21, 2015 19:25:42 GMT -5
Finally. The part where she could fight. Natalya would fully admit that she was a little bit- no, probably very bloodthirsty from time to time. Most of the time, at least, she had a reason for it. Part of it was her essential lack of trust in other people. Another part of it was her almost apathy towards most other living creatures. But, really, there was one reason that she really acted most days, one very good reason; so finally, the part where she could fight, where she could lead her brother's men to victory and give him the strength he needed to continue to come out on top of this war. And if her uniform got a little red, well, that was why she was wearing the uniform.
Except, there it was, the small matter of the irritating, petulant teenager of a Nation that was throwing some sort of tantrum at her brother. Natalya ignored it for the moment. The boy would have to learn at some point not to let such messy emotions get in the way of things like this. Retaining your composure was as much an important part of being a Nation as anything else. Even Alfred, irritating as he was, could retain a proper composure when the time well and truly called for it, though irritatingly enough he rarely did. Perhaps Venezuela was young and did not understand that posturing was as much a part of power as anything else.
Or perhaps he did not know when it was proper to posture and when one needed to stand down, yes?
Natalya was right behind Russia one moment, but it only took the smallest of comments from the brat for Natalya to suddenly start stepping slightly in front of Ivan instead of behind. And as soon as Venezuela started his loud, bothersome posturing, Natalya was quite suddenly behind Venezuela altogether, one of her many knives in her hand. She did not do anything yet, instead casting a shadow around him and simply looking to her brother. The Nation himself was almost as irritating as his humid weather. She was not amused. But it would be up to Ivan what was done with the boy, and Ivan seemed to mostly like him, so she doubted she'd do much more than make sure he didn't bolt.
If Ivan's aura alone was suffocating, though, well... Natalya herself was no superpower. She'd long adapted to knowing that she was inherently weaker than most other Nations, supposedly. Physically, more accurately. She was by no means weak. She was fast, and her sense of balance and agility reigned supreme. She could bring knives to gunfights and still win. To add to that, she had her slight connection to the supernatural. Pity Venezuela was so young. He had so few ghosts of his own, though there were many ghosts in his lands. Altogether, Natalya had an intimidating presence that was similar to that of a black mamba's. Perhaps the creature wasn't big and intimidating in stature, but its presence scared men much, much bigger and more powerful than it because one wrong move, one misstep, tread on that snake's tail, and-
She had also been compared to a bear, once, in how protective she could be of that which she considered hers. Yes, her brother was the immediate threat, but Natalya, Natalya was more patient than her brother, and perhaps a bit more vindictive. She wasn't prone to forgiveness.
Venezuela wouldn't have to deal with the entire bear in snakeskins, though. Indeed, though he was certainly in danger, Natalya was mostly just annoyed at the moment. However, that didn't mean that she didn't radiate danger. Far from it. It just meant the danger was a bit less immediate and a bit more dependent on whatever it was Ivan decided he wanted to have happen, or perhaps on whether or not the boy decided to tread on the snake's tail.
Instead, from where she had Venezuela carefully flanked and cornered behind him, she just scoffed irritably. This was beginning to try on her patience. It was a good thing she felt somewhat healthy, otherwise her mood would have already gotten quite black. As it was, it was a dangerously wired mood, already prepared for a fight, a little stronger than normal. Combined with irritation, she'd likely just act, whatever happened. Not that much would. Ivan was handling it. Then she could go back to what she'd originally planned to do, and destroy the defenses around the Panama Canal.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2015 23:00:16 GMT -5
Vicente is very, very well aware that he is young - other nations, especially those outside of South America, remind him of this so frequently that he could not forget this if he wanted to. However, there is a difference between being young and being weak. Since the war began, he's conquered so much land and bought so many weapons that his strength can be added to the list of things that he has way more of than he knows what to do with.
But that still doesn't make him any match for Russia - he's hardly a superpower. He's merely pretty good for a South American. The fact that he's the strongest in all of Latin America who decided to side with the Joint Pact is probably the only reason why Ivan is even here. But he didn't join the Joint Pact because of Ivan. He joined it because of his friendships with countries like Iran and China - before the war he never did much more than a bit of light trading with Russia. And there's a very good reason for that - Ivan scares the crap out of him.
But there's two things to be scared of when it comes to Ivan. Or, that is to say, there's at least two - there's probably more, but they're not the ones at the forefront of his mind right now. The first is that he can be scared of what such a powerful country could do to him physically. This is very, very much on his mind when not the words that the Russian is saying but the way that he's saying them causes him to stop in his tracks. It sends a cold shivver down his spine and makes his stomach sink all the way down to his feet. Well, maybe that last part was more his sister - with both of their focus suddenly so intently on him, who can tell? When his chin is forcibly yanked up, the sound he makes is practically a squeak - a detail he'll be sure to omit should he tell anyone how this went down later. The hair that normally half-obscures his eyes falls back, and it's easy to see the terror in them.
But there's more than fear in his eyes, because there's a second thing to be very afraid of when it comes to Ivan. What he can to to him physically is bad, yes, but there are worse things. Things that seem to only be confirmed by the words that the Russian is saying. So it's not that he isn't scared that causes him to stubbornly set his jaw - no, it's which thing he's more scared of. The phyisical threat may seem to be the more immediate thing, but he knows that's not the more important one. And though he has many, many character flaws, cowardice is not one of them - in fact, he has way more of the opposite problem.
Which is why, though his voice trembles and his eyes do their best to look anywhere but at Ivan's, he rapidly says, "But the guns do not fire themselves - they are held by men. Men who don't care if the guns are Russian or Chinese - they are loyal to me only. And I do not think that Yao would be happy to hear that you are treating an ally in such a way." Now, what he would have liked to say is all of the horrible things that he'll to the Russian if he's not taken seriously, but that would be dismissed so quickly his head might literally spin. So though it pains him, and makes him feel completely insignificant by contrast, he instead drops the best name that he has. Because he really is pretty sure that he can count on some strong Chinese objections to whatever horrible maiming the Russian and his sister are no doubt contemplating at this very moment - in fact, he's pretty sure that Yao would support him in the objection he was trying to raise that started this whole mess - and that ought to give both of them some pause. Or at least, he really, really hopes so.
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Post by Russia - Ivan Braginsky on Apr 25, 2015 0:52:36 GMT -5
Ah, his sister. He did not even have to speak to her for her to do exactly as he needed her to do. They seemed so in sync these days, as if the past had never flooded over them, breaking and hurting their sibling bond. She was here, and she knew his thoughts before they even came to his mind. It was quite unfortunate for Venezuela. He’d seen his sister’s current look before. She wanted a fight, likely to sharpen her knives. If the young nation did not learn to hold his tongue, he suspected he might lose the flimsy appendage soon enough.
His violet eyes took a trace of humor as he caught sight of the fear in the younger nation. It appeared he did have intelligence to recognize the danger he had brought himself into. He knew the boy held an excellent set of strategizing. It was required of any nation under the watchful eye of America. He’d seen how he attempted to manipulate the other South American countries in order to increase his influence. He respected the boy’s high ambition, which is why Ivan happily came to his help when the opportunity presented itself. He wanted Venezuela to win. Their goals and values align, and it benefitted him to see such actions. If only the immature would stop with his childish antics. It was not Ivan’s job to make certain his feelings weren’t hurt.
His grip tightened ever slightly, though he did not make movement to break it. His dark mood had lighten slightly at the sign of his fear, finding the whole debacle quite funny. He chuckled softly and released his jaw to give the boy a rough pat on the cheek. “Yao has seen far worse from me than merely a missed meeting. I highly doubt he will see sympathy,” he teased and pinched the boy’s cheek instead. Quite adorable! Running off to China. The boy might have a close relationship to China, but Ivan’s was far closer in more ways than one. Yao knew Ivan’s behavior and had come to accept it, in his stubborn annoyed way of his. Not that Ivan had done anything wrong in the first place to Venezuela. It was not his Ivan’s job to manage the boy’s calendar. It was his fault.
He finally pulled his hand back behind his back. “I do hope see I am only trying to help you,” he answered, “We hold the same goals. I wish to see you succeed. Do you not want to succeed?” His head tilted and there seemed to be real curiosity in his eyes as if he did not know the answer to the question.
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do not forget me
About thirty years ago, Israel's boss was assasinated. By who, well, no one knows, but Israel immediately blamed Iran. Of course, that alone wouldn't have started World War III, even though Israel and Iran's various allies declared war in quick succession.
Nah, the nuclear bomb in the middle of Jerusalem probably did it.
Now? Now the rest is history. The world's been at war for thirty years, thirty years of bloodshed and pain. No one else has reached for the nuclear option quite yet, but no one's happy. So if we all die- well, do not forget me, okay?
updates
10/15/2020 Do Not Forget Me: a dark hetalia RPG is re-opened!
credits
Do Not Forget Me was created by Waffles and Jonathan and amazing layout and coding is thanks to SO-4 . Content is copyrighted to Do Not Forget Me unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney The mini-profile remodel is by Trinity Blair of Adoxography. Thanks!
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