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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 7, 2015 11:40:20 GMT -5
The stars are hidden behind smoke and ashes and fire and war machines, each tank rolling past the invisible night sky in a field tilled by bombs. The brown smoggy air is punctuated by blasts of despondent weapons and manpower, punctuated by explosions and shouts and attempts to wipe the dusty sky out of the eyes of observers. This is the media age, and reporters both amateur and professional attempt to safely convert the horrors of the barren fields. Not even they, though, are always so capable, and she remembers it, the platinum-blonde girl, as she watches one of their chopters come spiraling down, a missle most likely having hit it instead of a proper target. "This," somewhat might have said, "is no place for a lady, especially one with a fever of 38.5." Though the lady comment was dutifuly resented, the comment about the fever didn't really matter, not to this lady. Natalya's long blonde hair whipped behind her as she stabbed a Polish, or possibly German, soldier in their gut, ignoring them as they fell to the ground. She hadn't bothered to check the uniform, really, they were fighting against Ivan and she had been told to fight them in return. Flashes lit by her eyes and bullets whizzed by her ears as she stepped over her handiwork. None of them hit her. Hmph. What sort of marksmanship were they even teaching these days? It was no excuse that she had been on enough battlefields to practically sense them coming. At least one should have come close. Amateurs. Then again, her nearly glowing purple eyes and her dark, ever approaching shadow might have thrown them off, but that made them cowards, an ever undesirable quality for a soldier to have. This weak little infantry was hardly her target, anyway, but if to get past them she had to kill them, so be it. A little bit more sweat on her hands hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things, and a little bit more blood after all this time shouldn't matter at all. Violet eyes looked up and planes streaked by and bombs fell. She sidestepped the blast range of one, her hair rising but her expression impassive. Yes. More blood would do little at all to change the sea of it around her, and more deaths would hardly change the sea of ghosts. She could simply do all she could for Ivan, and perhaps for her people as well. No one would fail to benefit from some dead commanders and a dead battle, after all, except perhaps the looser, and even they in time would understand that the long, drawn-out way was quite pointless, quite pointless indeed. Calmly stepping past guns and tanks, she slid below the shadowed smoke again. Dead commanders, indeed; the field commander of the German infantry troops around her, to be exact. That's Natalya's job: to slip behind enemy lines (or perhaps massacre her way through them) and kill the commander. It's a mildly challenging task, and she's glad for that, at least. She hardly wanted something easy just because she was still healing. That would be absurd. She would do whatever she could wherever she could, and nothing anyone could do would change her whirlwind of knives for her brother. Like a being of hellfire, or more accurately like Dante's circle filled with ice, she moved a woman possessed. It was quite lovely, how armies gave commanders marks on their uniforms. It made it much easier to pick out the important ones among them. Certainly, it prevents confusion of rank, but she can read them and bite into them, destroy what she's looking for. They've noticed her by now, she notes as though through a haze. They lift guns and shout again. Natalya doesn't know German. Why should she ever bother to learn such an ugly language when Russian and Belorussian do her just fine? However, she can recognize tone. Good. These men are no cowards. It should be easy enough to take them all the same, but it is good they are not cowards. Perhaps they will be, now that her knife gleams in her right hand and a pistol shines in her left. Her knife slides into her sleeve as both hands grip the pistol. When the knife is safely in its sheath she starts shooting, rarely missing mark. She's no sniper, but she finds some pride in the ghosts she an make around her, finds some pride in the ability to fight closer-range, to get to that close range in the first place. That's hardly changed, and she's certainky in close enough a range. Blood splatters onto the dusty, marched-over earth, only to join the endless blood that had been spilled this battle. What was one drop in an ocean of blood, indeed? And then she moved on, stepping through the red-pale sea before anyone could stop her, moving through a sea of fire. What was fire in Poland's fields, anyway? He did deserve it, to some degree. Natalya had hated her time under his control, had hated how he stole her land and took her people. She'd hated falling under his rule and had sworn it would not happen again. Now, what irony indeed? It had happened once before, but now again he'd be under her brother's grasp. It was close, so close, she could nearly touch it. Did Ivan know how this pleased her? Yes. She'd imagine he did know what vindictive pleasure she took, watching a former prison-master fall. She wondered if Poland, the bastard, knew. He probably did. Her marching steps in surprisingly tall boots soon slid to a halt. There. How. There was a Nation, and he was far too close to her target, far too close to where her knife was supposed to sink into a man's throat. She practically growled. "блядзь," she hissed in an oddly calm voice before getting closer anyway. No one got in her way. No one. NOTE: блядзь (bliadz!) is a very strong swear word meaning something around "bitch" or "whore" but with similar usage to "oh fuck" in English. |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 8, 2015 10:28:17 GMT -5
He knew already that the battlefield was no place for a nation. He had been told that countless of times by his own leader. He should step back, go back to do some paperwork, maybe tend the wounded ones in the hospitals back in Norway, or maybe Germany if he wanted spend time somewhere else. Heck, they were even close to call Denmark and ask the Dane to take him away, anything to get his mind off the battle, and make sure he didn't join in on the firing of the bullets, knives slashing, and bombs dropping.
Keeping the Nation safe? What a joke, he was nothing without his dying people that was out there. The more they died, the more pain he was in, and the weaker he would become. No nation wanted their people dead, not even hurt. Heck, if he could decide, no one would ever die if it caused someone else harm.
So why was the nations told that it was better if they stayed back? In his own case, it was partly because of his skills in the nursing department. He liked to help people, his own and those who he cared for, or stood by his side. He was a nation and had lived for long enough to know what worked and what did not work. Old cures or the new ones, which herbs to mix and what to avoid, and he couldn't disagree to the fact that he liked to help, and he liked to treat and see the wounded once again rise to their legs and walk like they used to. But partly also because if a nation did get badly hurt, the people would suffer too. Maybe it would scare their soldiers too, if he took bullets to his chest, wincing in horrible pain, but would yet die, nor fall to his knees and beg for mercy.
Nations didn't beg.
"So. If we round them up around this point.."
He didn't listen anymore, this general was new, he had no clue what he was doing, he would lead them to their downfall in at least more than one battle. He might grow to become good, if he lived long enough. "The Russians have that place secured already, it would be like leading them into their own grave." He kindly pointed out back, without even meeting his glance. Arrogance, yes, maybe.
He was only there to make sure nothing stupid was being done, and keeping an eye so he wouldn't die, not today, the general had some important documents upon him, and his own leader had told him that no matter what, he could not read or take those documents, it was to be delivered by this general only, as he knew the secret password for it when it was to be delivered.
"And how do you know that, Lucas? I have no clue who you are or what you are doing here, except that our leader said you were to watch over me. But you have done nothing but roll your eyes, been sarcastic, and haven't even looked at me, so why should I take your words seriously? I am a General, you should listen to me."
And at that, he rolled his eyes again, which the General let out a angry sound, and he finally turned around in the car. From sitting on the opposite direction with arms and chin on the backrest of it, to finally face him. Arms and legs crossed, and gave him a very bored look. "Because I was there yesterday, and trust me when I say that I know how the Russians work." It wasn't the first battle, and they had been allies at one point, in a war a long time ago as well.
"Nonsense, unless you are.. A Russian spy?" Giving him a suspicious look, and that's when he finally gave up and threw his hands in the air.
"Don't cry when your men are dead, you would be the last one to deserve that. You should be the only one who deserved that fate." As he stood up, anger rising too high inside of him and he stood up from his chair, and gave him a slight nod. "If you excuse me." And he finally took his leave from that madman. How could he not listen to him? Okay, he did not know whom he really was, and he would never know, maybe on his deathbed he could whisper those sweet things in his ear.. That would be fun to see his reaction, and hoping he would never reach Valhall, and only go to hell.
He stopped outside of the tent, happy his own Soldiers were back home, and on another place and not here. He had only been thrown in here because the rest of the nations that were fighting this battle had other business. But it wasn't an easy task, which he had thought it would be from the start..
His eyes scanned the arena. It was far too quiet, it should be more talk from soldiers, screaming, maybe some guns firing, something. He could see there was some people left, but.. His eyes got wider when he looked at the direction behind the tent. Red, somewhat shining, wet.. Blood. Bodies of men, their men, not his own people but people from his fellow nations that had his, and he had theirs back.. Why were they all dead? So suddenly, not even a sound. He had noticed the sudden guns firing, but then it got quiet, he thought it was deer or something they mistook for a Russian. But this was no work of a animal predator, it was a human.. No, it couldn't be a human who had done this, it was impossible.
A nation, of course.
But which nation was here to sneak upon them?
Taking cover behind a tree. Luckily he had his bulletproof vest on him as well, and he easily fished up the gun from the inside of his trousers, clicking off the safe, and peered behind the corner of the tree.
Ah, it was her, of course, as soon as she heard her brother was involved, whom else would come running like a obedient old dog?
He moved along the trees, coming up closer, they could feel each other how they moved, and where they was, a blessing and a curse, no one could sneak up on each other without sensing it first. "And my I ask why we are granted with your lovely presence?" His voice slightly louder, as he came close enough, so she could hear what he had said, the slight sarcasm in his voice, and that he wanted an answer, and wouldn't be satisfied until he got one.
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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 9, 2015 23:01:25 GMT -5
She didn't stay where she was, of course, when she first noticed the Nation in her little bloody corner of a burnt-out forest of a battlefield. Instead, she moved silently back into the trees, watching. Her target was a general, fairly young, she suspected he wouldn't really be missed. He would be difficult to take down, she suspected. As paranoid as such people as the General tended to be, they could also get complacent after spending so long out of a combat position. They were like unsharpened knives, deadly weapons that had lost their ability to truly kill. No, what would truly cause the disarray and destruction was not the death of a leader. Leaders could be replaced. Leaders, so long as thy truly knew how to lead, were interchangeable playing cards, especially when they knew how to blend into their predecessor's styles. His orders, however, and his documents- well, Natalya was likely to blame if they went missing in his bloody death, if they got torn or covered in blood, if whatever news he carried never reached the troops that quite suddenly could no longer carry out orders they didn't have. Leaders were interchangeable- but only if they minded the gap with precision and care. If there was too much of a gap before order was regained and heads stopped rolling and the deputies took charge, well, she'd seen that for herself many times. One well-timed assasination, while not necessarily ending a war, could prolong it indefinitely, and given enough time, it would be Ivan and the Joint Pact's victory. With Natalya's hard earned status as some white-haired ghost or demon, well, the panic in that gap, suddenly quite wide, would be plenty. But there was a Nation, and he was in her way. From a distance, Natalya watched, slinking silently through the trees, her shadow shrinking and growing across their trunks as she did. The Nation- she paused, and the shades around him moved oddly- the Nation, who was certainly one of the ones who saw things no one else did and was likely Norway, as he did not seem like England from this distance and most definitely was not Romania, was leaving the General's vicinity. That was good, indeed. It seemed he did not like the man. This was also good. It at least meant that the tiny amount of intelligence Natalya possessed on the General was correct: he was a very hard man to like indeed. He'd be an easy kill. Yes. She crept further forward still, though she was wary. The Nation, after all, had left her line of sight. She could not be certain of his movements. Natalya had just switched from a pistol (which gave her some range but, despite her accuracy over a shorter distance, she had more trouble trusting with her unpredictably dour health) to twin knives, one sitting in both hands, and had swung forwards onto the balls of her feet when she heard it. Someone was coming behind her. She frowned internally. It would be easier, she suspected, simply to go forward and kill the General now. But that assumed the person behind her was human. She was quite certain that person was not, and growing more certain each step. She whipped around until she faced her back, her gloves and weapons quite red in the air and her clothes getting slowly stained but her white ribbon pristine, pristine as always. There she faced a man. A Nation. So she'd been right. He spoke, and she listened, though listening also meant looking for his weak spots, trying to remember Norway's weaknesses, trying to assess a fight she suspected was now quite inevitable. Shame. She hated killing people who could easily stand back up again; she could never turn her back after doing so. "Нарвегія," she said, her voice as flat as always, "I could ask the same from you." Her hands curled around her knives. "I suspect you know exactly what I plan to do, though, Нарвегія." And with that, she pretended to turn back to the General. She was not truly pretending, or, for that matter, truly turning. While her body and head were turned, almost all of her senses remained focussed on Norway. If he made no move to attack, then she'd simply attack the General. Of course, if he did attack, she'd turn around and fight him directly. Natalya thought it would be much cleaner if he didn't. A little less blood for the men that came after the battlefield to take care of, yes? But that wasn't what she thought was going to happen, though. Not by a long shot. Нарвегія = Narviehija = Norway |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 14, 2015 11:12:20 GMT -5
He didn't even flinch when she was being like that towards him, maybe because he knew they were somewhat similar in some aspects, and yet they were so different. The Ice Queen and the Ice King, wasn't that those rumours that flew around? He didn't listen to rumours too much, they didn't really say anything, more or less that idiots believed in words that were usually very untrue. " Hviterussland.*" As he gave her a nod to acknowledge that she was there, giving her a stern look as to warn her from doing anything reckless with their meeting. But she didn't seem hostile towards him, it wasn't him that she directed her anger and what she was out after. No, he could tell that right away, and got it confirmed when she turned her attention away from him, and concentrated on the tent he had just previously been inside of. Of course, she wouldn't suspect anything less from her. She was beautiful, stunning, and yet her mind was so long lost, which was a shame, otherwise the Norwegian wouldn't hesitate to flirt with her, in his own way, but now he would fear for his hand to be cut off, the mildest thing probably, if he even dared to. And he didn't date, nor slept with traitors. " Why would I be on the battlefield, when the alley who's people are fighting here, can't be at three places at the same time, in our own camp?" Slightly humming those words, as if she had asked him a rather stupid question.. Which she sort of have. Why wouldn't he be on his alleys side during a war, travel around the camps and make sure the soldiers, generals, and horses had it good? Make sure the food were well, and his own soldiers that volunteered would be treated with the respect and welcome they deserved, for joining a battle they didn't even have to fight? He simply shook his head and sighed softly, looking at the tent where the idiotic General was, probably planning for tomorrow's strike, and he hoped his words had settled something inside of the General's head.. But sometimes one was just a dreamer. " Yes I know very well, and even if that General is a fool, he is young, everyone makes mistakes, even you do, but don't let arrogance take over you, those mistakes will be harder to get over." He didn't get in her way, nor did he move at first, he simply observed her, knowing very well that a nation would never let another nation's presence disappear that quickly from your radar, as they were their biggest enemy here. Not the humans, but the immortal ones. Moving silently, and very gracefully so he was suddenly in front of her. Not too close, enough distance between him and the knives she was yielding, he didn't like that sort of pain anyway. " And he has done you nothing, he is simply doing the job he was assigned to do. Faulty or not, I can't let you kill him. He might become an important person to everyone one day, maybe he is the one to end the war? Bring peace?" His hand placed so he was prepared to bring up his gun at any time, and the other on his belt, in case he had to fight her with knives too, if the bullets were no good before she got there. " So to get to him, you have to pass me first." Eyes intensive, showing a bit of his bad side when he gave her a glare that showed that he'd rather be dead than letting her pass so easily. And even if he was prepared, it looked like he was just angry, yet calm, and not expecting her to attack. But he was so much more, often thinking one step ahead, but never showing it. He wasn't too much of showing what he thought about, too much of a hassle. His deep blue eyes met hers', trying to read her every move. " Go back before it's too late, Hviterussland." Even if he didn't know where she had gotten from, if she had been with Russia or not, he just hoped he wasn't lurking behind some other tree around here, observing them, and prepared to step in whenever.. He could manage her, but with him too added to said mix? No, he'd be outnumbered, and without any other nation from his side of the war.. He would be long gone before anyone could save him, as no human could ever dream of fighting a fair fight against a nation. Hviterussland - Belarus |
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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 19, 2015 13:49:03 GMT -5
Natalya looked quietly at the man in front of her. Hmph. He clearly thought he could stop her. Norway was not an idiot, that she knew, but really now, did he think he stood a chance? Not when Natalya had a tendency to hit a point and start fighting like a cornered animal, dangerous claws made of knives scraping the very world around her in her deadly, spinning dance. People sometimes made the mistake of thinking her only as Ivan's younger sister. No one, however, made that mistake twice. After all, Ivan himself knew how deadly she could be, and she, unlike Ivan, held no illusions that she was a good person. None of them, the Nations, really were. She looked at him with hard eyes. So, he was trying to study her expression. Norway would get nothing from that, even if he tried. If Norway was the Ice King, well, Natalya was the Demon, the Ice Queen who froze the world to pave the way for victory, no care for what she took down with her in her war path- not even herself. Her expression was unreadable, with the possible exceptions of Ivan, Lithuania, and Iryna. And even then, well, none of them knew all of her secrets. No, Norway would get nothing. She stared blankly for just a moment when Norway responded to her question the way he did. Well. "I do not ask why you fight. I am here," she said. "No, I ask why you are not in Finland. If it was my brother's borders being shoved against, I'd be more worried for him, rather than for the вырадак Poland, yes?" Natalya looked at him coldly. She, of course, fought wherever Ivan said she should fight, but had the war come to Russia's borders she'd be by Ivan's side on that war front more than anywhere else. With Finland in danger of invasion and his beloved Sweden staying out of it, she would have suspected all of the Nordics to be at that border. But what did she know? "And you try to tell me not to be arrogant?" she added, finding his words nearly hypocritical. The mere fact that he assumed that he was giving her worthwhile advice was arrogant. To give such advice on a battlefield was arrogant. The fact that he presumed to know her was arrogant. She did not care but so much, only in that he assumed she would be so arrogant as he was. She was not. She knew her limits. She knew that she was hardly what she had once been, and she knew that she had died many times and would die many times more. Arrogance was not her sin. Hubris would not be her failing.
"Oh, no, my sin is pride." Oh yes, pride. The knowing that something was wrong but the refusing to act on that knowledge. Pride that made her keep fighting an unstoppable force. Pride, she thought, would someday be her downfall, pride and loyalty. Not arrogance. She knew she was dying. No one else would. And then he slid in front of Natalya as she looked to attack, as though to shield the General from the inevitable death that would come to him. Him, a shield? No. Him, someone she would kill to have stand back up again. It took more than simply being killed to properly kill a Nation, after all. One needed to reach a critical point, destroy their country, and then they could die. She was closer than most to that point, but even she he could not stay dead for long, not quite yet. And she would come back. She did not stay down. She just looked him in the eye. He was trying to argue that he did not deserve death. What a stupid argument. "He is a soldier, is he not," she said, "and are soldiers not trained to die?" But it's what he said next that made her make a noise almost like laughter but colder, darker, much, much more dangerous. The world shifted around her. Suddenly, she looked so much more like the monster the humans sometimes thought she was. Her eyes flashed. No, she wasn't human, was she? Then, behind that horrible laugh, she locked her eyes with his. "'Before it is too late,' you say? Oh, no, Нарвегія, are you trying to frighten me?" Her shadow flickered. Her aura was practically visible. "Who is arrogant now? I have faced death in more painful ways than you could possibly replicate. I have faced the destruction of everything around me in fire and power and bombs. I assure you, nothing you could do could frighten me. You see," she said, something very, very dark over her expression, "I do not care if I die." The very air seemed to freeze around her. "I do hope you understand." And then, with no warning, she lunged, knives flashing in both light and shadows, a mad, deadly tornado of a huntress in for the kill. вырадак = vyradak = bastard
Нарвегія = Narviehija = Norway |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 25, 2015 16:14:53 GMT -5
It was funny how she mentioned Finland out of everyone. He knew Russia was a persistent bastard, and the Nordic families would do anything to protect each other at all costs. They might make fun of each other and bash one or another now and then, but they were family. No one else were allowed to do the same. If Belarus here would try to make the same jokes about Sweden as he usually did, she would have one less head to worry about in the future.
"Funny, their last encounter in a war, as I remembered, Russia tried that once, didn't he? And we all know how that went, poor big Brother lost against the 'weak' little Finland." A smirk grew on his lips, humoured by her choice of countries against each others that she could pick from. She would get more worried about Denmark, their history was shaky, but Finland? Sure, they had too been ruled by Russia, but not lately. Finland was scary once he got going, and he respected the shorter nation, a lot, in all terms, maybe not his choice of favourite hobbies..
It was rare to get him annoyed, and neither was he, even if her tongue was sharper than it should have been, and it was a wonder she hadn't lost it yet. "Soldiers are not trained to die, they are trained to protect their country and what it stands for. No one is trained, or prepared to die, it's a big lie everyone is telling. Because let's face it, with that sick body of yours that you are denying, you can die, just like the humans you have killed because of this useless war." Oh, most people knew that Belarus had seen a lot better days, she was one of those that had not mostly fallen sick because of the war. And she had always been the strange one. Hot maniac, as most called her.
Snorting back at her, of course she cared, she wouldn't want to die, it was just words she tried to tell herself to be strong, trying to get all those negative emotions away to become stronger. You were just more weak that way. "If I would have tried to frighten you, I would have done it in a different way, I am merely giving you a chance to go back."
He had seen it coming, when she snapped, she wasn't too difficult to read with her unstable mind. "And you haven't walked a mile in my shoes, you can't tell me your life have been worse than mine, and neither can I say the same about you, Hviterussland." He had his dignity stripped from him, naked, no power, useless, a mere pupped for people to use as they pleased. But now he was strong, rich, and powerful. He could easily make sure a big part of the oil disappeared into nothing, and the war would be harder for both parties.
He was lucky he had been prepared, as he managed to stop most of her knives with the gun he had been shifting for, and the thing held, but she managed to get a good slash on his arm. He didn't show the pain, that was something he was too used to, but also to mask it, and simply jumped back, lifting up a gun and aimed it at her, a knife in the other. "Go back, now, Hviterussland, or else some of your soldiers will be dragging your unconscious body back to your brother." Not kill her, simply.. Make her sleep for a little while. He wasn't kidding when he removed the safety and the gun clicked nicely, telling him it was loaded and ready for him to pull the trigger.
Knowing that going into a close-distance fight with her would be absolutely madness, she would win that in an instant and he would die before begging anyone for mercy ever again. But at a longer one, with a gun against her knives, he would have his advantages. The forest and woods were his friends, he had other friends there as well that he knew would help him too, after all, one didn't live alone in mountains and thick forests without learning a thing or two from it.
He continued to back off, he had sensed it, she was way too long gone, if he could just get into the shadows of the forest, disappear, and take her by surprise, that would make things so much easier. His light footsteps that was barely heard, his breathing that had gone down to calm himself down and keep a cool head. He was a perfect assassin if he just wanted to, but a good thing he didn't. His flowing, almost dancing steps backwards, still having his gun aimed, questioning her choices and what she was really doing. She wouldn't get close to that tent, over his dead body.
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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Apr 26, 2015 15:18:37 GMT -5
Norway was missing the point, perhaps, about why she'd mentioned Finland. She knew that the seemingly-cute Nordic could probably protect himself perfectly well. No, that wasn't what made Natalya mention him. What had made her mention him was the fact that the front was clipping Finland's borders, about to explode into his country at any moment. That sort of thing, well, for someone who (mostly) thought family was everything, it meant that Norway's insistence on protecting the Pole instead made no sense. She protected Ivan even when he didn't need it, after all. Ivan was strong, probably stronger than Natalya, but Natalya would still do everything for him if she had to.
Her eyes narrowed, then, as she looked at Norway. Clearly he thought she was underestimating his brother. Well then, okay. If he wanted to think Natalya underestimated his brother, that was fine by her. Perhaps when they did meet on the battlefield he'd figure it out. He'd see it then, with Natalya quickly adapting to the sniper Nordic's strategy, that she'd never really underestimated him at all, and he'd pay for making that mistake dearly. But perhaps not. Either way, all she did was give Norway a cool glare. To someone who didn't know her well, it probably looked like she was glaring for mentioning her brother's defeat. He could interpret that glare however he'd like.
Although, she was curious. "Who says that I am sick?" she asked, her eyes narrowing further. If Lithuania had told anyone, she was going to destroy him. But no. That wasn't it. She supposed whatever of Alfred's spy planes that were almost certainly flying over Russia's new territory had noticed that her country was still somewhat destroyed, and that most people would suspect a nuclear disaster was enough to make her fall ill. Even Ivan, though, didn't know just how sick she was. Only Toris knew that, and if he dared mention it to a stranger when he'd so promised not to tell anyone, well... that would have been... completely unlike him, actually. She took a deep breath. No, Norway was just guessing. Which meant she was fine.
It would stay secret another day.
"Besides, even if I was sick, I would hardly be sick enough for a country not even invading my own to properly kill me," she added. Not quite, at least. But if Ivan had- no. She wouldn't think about that. Ivan wouldn't purposefully do anything like that, and he was the only one currently in a location that could really, really end her (he had control of her government, all he had to do was say the word, and-), and he was her brother, and she mostly knew they protected each other. Family protects itself from outsiders, and family, in the end, protects each other from the worst of the injuries one could get.
But then Norway made another mistake. He alerted Natalya to the fact that he was planning on using non-lethal force. That was a mistake. That was a horrible, horrible mistake. Because in Natalya's mind? That meant he was at a disadvantage. That made him predictable. If he was just going to knock her unconscious, well then, he had to work for it, much harder work than if he was just planning on shooting her down. He'd have to aim for certain places, he'd have to act in certain ways, and he'd have to restrain himself.
Natalya? Natalya had no such limits.
Non-lethal force was a mistake with this girl because she went in like a hurricane of knives and a snake and a poison, tearing apart whatever fought her. She went in like it was for her last breath whether it would be or not, so if she could predict anything, anything at all, if she could take whatever advantage she could, she would take it. One mistake with her was often the last mistake one made.
"Oh, I don't doubt it," she hissed, her voice a viper's nest. Let him take a walk in her shoes, stand on the brink of destruction, let him watch as his own family tried to break him, let him try to fight only to fall to shreds, let his mind break and mend over and over again until the broken part and the mended part were impossible to tell apart. She didn't doubt that he'd had a hard life. But so had she. All of them had. Hers, though, had prepared her readily for her deathbed.
So when the fight started, she was ready; Natalya had been ready for a fight from the moment she'd seen another Nation ahead of her, Natalya had been ready for a fight long before she'd lunged forwards, aiming to get below his inevitable gunshots (except didn't he just say he was going for non-lethal force)? He slid backwards as Natalya, ghost in human feet, danced forwards with a quiet, well-planned agility. The forest of dark shadows concealed her footsteps just as the nearby rapport of explosions and gunshots lit her up.
He was trying to get her at a distance, was he? It was a pity he'd yet to try anything more interesting. Once upon a time, Natalya had known Romania. That man had some interesting abilities too, and it was through him that Natalya knew Norway could do things a little bit better and a little bit more challenging than he was right now. And oh, if he'd gone for his power, well then Natalya knew a challenge when she saw it. She would have gone for her own- she still might. Her eyes glowed for a moment and looked at things that were not there for anyone but her and then she charged forwards again, her eyes covered in darkness.
With a powerful, demanding grace and agility she pushed closer (and closer to her target at the camp, if he messed up, if he backed up enough, he would be hers and neither of them would stop it), a dark expression on her face. She pushed closer before lunging forward in a fury of flashing blades once more, prepared to duck around from the moment he tried to fire that gun, her ghostly presence pounding against the atmosphere, darkening it, lending danger and pumping adrenaline through her blood.
Non-lethal force?
Don't make her laugh. She was deadly from the first step she took. If he wanted to play that game, she would overcome him quickly and certainly. What she really wanted was a challenge.
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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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