Post by poland on Mar 19, 2011 18:33:13 GMT
EDIT: Thank you for accepting me. The changes have been made. :3
Beginning Notes: I'm sorry if this is way too long...
"Never dull your shine for somebody else."[/center][/size]
Country: Poland
Name: Feliks £ukasiewicz
Gender: Male (Believe it or not…)
Age: 19
Profession: Fashion Designer/Waiter (Since he needs money. He also wears the Waitress’ attire for this job and he pulls his hair back. …It’s a Poland thing. Also, he designs clothes but he doesn’t really have the money to actually produce them. Either way, he knows what looks good on ya.)
Highlander or Lowlander?: Lowlander
Appearance:
Feliks is an average-sized young man, standing at 5’6.5” tall. He has chin-length straight blond hair that he often pulls back with a ribbon or two, and bright chartreuse eyes. Feliks is of medium build; not too scrawny and not very muscular, if at all. This makes him appear a bit younger than how old he really is, so he often has to prove that he’s 19 and not 16 instead. He also has thin shoulders and lank arms, a reason why Feliks is often mistaken for a girl. (Not that he really minds.)
He usually wears either a pair of dark brown pants with a long-sleeved turtleneck shirt and a thick grey pea coat with his hair tied back in a brown bow. If not, the young man would probably wear something more feminine and relaxed. Feliks isn’t deterred by wearing pink, like some men are. He actually finds that bright colors make you feel happier than dull colored clothing.
Personality:
Feliks £ukasiewicz is an optimist, like many people attempt to be. He prefers to be happy with what he’s got, rather than cry over what he’s not. He is perfectly happy and content where he is, though of course, there are catches to his (or anyone else’s) happiness. Large horses, smoke, and thunder cause his heartbeat to accelerate. He isn’t very fond of certain Germans either.
Feliks is, however, a good person with his own odd quirks and habits, such as having a “valley girl” type accent when he speaks. (This means that he talks somewhat like a teenage girl and uses “like”, “totally”, and “seriously” a lot when speaking.) Feliks has a sense of pride for both himself and others, which is why he tries to stick up for his friends. However, due to a shyness complex, he’s not great at communicating with people that he doesn’t know and this makes it hard for him to defend himself.
Though he may seem a bit proud of himself, Feliks £ukasiewicz isn’t all that conceited. He just expects himself to win an argument from time to time. He’s an optimist with enough self-confidence to fill at least three people.
History:
Feliks was never really concerned for his family. You see, he knew only of his mother, as it was only her that was there at the time of his birth. His mother was a feminist, and without a father to help raise Feliks, she took care of him and raised him on her own, with her own set of beliefs. She taught Feliks that you should trust everyone until they stab you in the back, and that everyone is innocent until proven guilty. His mother was a sweet woman, whose husband drowned in the sea.
It was said that Feliks’ father was a strong believer in myths that his own parents had taught him about. One of those was about the Rusalki, who were a type of water nymph that lured men to their deaths by singing to them or seducing them. Now his father was a nice man. He was polite and he kept to himself and his business, but he could tell the most fascinating stories to children and even Feliks’ mother.
Whilst he and his friends from the sea port celebrated the New Year, none of them cared to actually check around their area. The moon was black, being a new moon, and they had built up a bonfire so they could see each other in the darkness. It was a few of his friends and he himself that heard it, but they were only three in number. Only three out of the twenty odd men heard the quiet sound of something, or someone, laughing. Being the adventurous man he was, Feliks’ father searched for the source of the noise, not noticing that he was alone until he was lost in the forest.
“…Who’s there…?” His speech was slightly slurred from the liquor that he had been taking in that night. “I know….someone’s there---!”
“It’s alright,” a sweet, calm voice said gently to him from behind. He jumped when a woman, average-sized with long, blond hair wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m not gonna hurt you, silly man. I overheard you and your friends having fun, so I wanted to meet you…”
“It’s….New….Year’s… ” He mumbled. “Of course we’re having fun.” He shrugged out of her grip and apologized. “Sorry…shouldn’ta came out here, I think. It’s getting cold, ya know. Maybe you should come back to the fire and get warm…? If ya’d like, anyways. Ya seem like a nice kid.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly. She took ahold of his arm, however, and steered him away from the direction that he had come. “I know a quicker route.”
“You don’t seem ta be from the Lowlands….”
“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean that you can be rude to me.” She giggled, standing in front of a large, shimmering lake. The stars reflected in it beautifully, and she was tempted to show him how beautiful it was underthe water. She smirked.
x-x-x
Feliks’ mother could do nothing but sit and mourn for her lost husband. The Lowlanders couldn’t even find his body in the sea. That left the poor woman without support for her child and without her lover. When Feliks arrived, she knew that he would have to be brought up differently than most children in modern day society.
Feliks was taught how to sew, cook, and clean. He didn’t want to learn when he was younger, but he gradually got over it and decided to help out his mother. They both took turns with doing the household chores until he came of age and left her. Before he left, however, Feliks had only a few close friends. One was a young man by the name of Toris, whom he admired for his politeness and hospitality. He and Toris are still close friends, but they only talk to each other when in town.
When he left, Feliks’ could only afford a small apartment in the Lowlands, where he quickly took up a job at a local bar like many of the Lowlanders. When not at work, he designs clothes for himself and for others, just getting basic concepts as he takes care of priorities such as food and the mortgage first.
Recurring nightmare:
(Be warned that this is extremely long and there is violence in the end. Also, Princess Wanda was a polish princess who was to become the queen when her father died. A German prince wanted to marry her, but he would not let her refuse. She would never disgrace her country by marrying a GERMAN, so she drowned herself instead.)
The thundering of thousands of pairs of boots is ringing through the night air. The few people that are lucky enough to be alive in the ravaged city of Warsaw cowered in their hiding places. Only two civilians were running around. A Mr. Feliks £ukasiewicz and a former princess of his that went by the name of Wanda. They were running for their lives; Feliks trying to catch his former to-be queen.
“Please, stop, like, running! They’ll kill us if they find us!” he said as she paused. The Pole gently placed a rough, calloused hand on the princess Wanda’s shoulder and stepped in front of the once beautiful woman. His chartreuse eyes looked downcast as he visualized her former beauty. Where she had once had long, beautiful brown locks, she had scraggly, short hair that barely went past her ears. Her eyes had long lost that shine in them. Wanda never smiled anymore, and it was killing the nation to see her so pitiful. “Wanda, please… We need to get out of here.”
“I can’t stand---” she choked on the smoke that clung around them as their glorious town burned to the ground. They fanned the smoke from around them. The thunder continued on. Distant cries of despair were heard, making both of them cringe. “---to see this, Feliks. What has happened to the city that I once knew?” The Pole couldn’t bear to answer her, or even look at her anymore. Waving more smoke from the billows that were circling them, Feliks grabbed her arm and pulled her quickly from the burning shell of someone’s home. He didn’t look back, he just knew that she was expecting an answer from him.
“Princess,” he croaked quietly. “I know as much as you do on this matter. This is like, new to me, and I’m not even sure what like, happened, you know…?”
“You’re saying that you don’t know what happened here, Feliks?” The Princess asked. She tugged on his arm so he would stop dragging her. Instead, he did his best to ignore his former commander. It was difficult, but he managed to get them to one of the burning houses that had a basement. Feliks stopped and tapped on the ground with his foot. It sounded hollow…
“…Why should I know?”
“Because you’re Feliks, my dear. You should know why they are being attacked.” Feliks mentally cursed himself for making her so proud of him. Sometimes, Wanda made him feel as if he wasn’t good enough for her. She treated him like he was supposed to be god.
“…Because the Kraut-Head wanted to like, start a war,” he huffed as he clambered around, searching for the trap door. Smiling without humor, he found it, and promptly threw it open. He stuck his head down in the hole, only to find blackness.
“Princess,”
“I’m not sure that we should go down there. Do you have any idea as of what is down there?”
“Blackness,” Feliks replied shortly, not having the time nor the strength to tell her that he had no idea what was lurking in the basement. He stood up slowly and motioned for his princess to come towards him. “Please…” he begged when she didn’t budge.
“Nie,” she said, stomping her foot on the ground to let him know that she meant it. Feliks panicked and grabbed her arm again. He shoved her in front of him and then pushed her down into the basement. Princess Wanda shrieked in pain as her head hit the stairs. “Co to do cholery myœlisz, e robisz? (What the hell do you think you are doing?)” She yelled at him. “Co jest z tob, Feliks? (What is wrong with you, Feliks?)” Feliks felt terrible for having to use force, but there was no way that he would let her die from lung cancer from the horrid black smoke that clouded around him now.
“Forgive me, please, Princess. I just don’t want you to like, get hurt…Seriously….” He let himself into the basement and closed the door above him. Oil lamps flickered two in a row down the long, narrow tunnel that was built under the house. A few crates and barrels of supplies lied around uselessly, along with a blanket in the corner of the left route. Mice squeaked helplessly and somewhere, a bird or a bat flapped its wings. Wanda huffed impatiently at him.
“You’re not doing a very well job of that,” she said, dusting her long, weather-worn dress off. Feliks hated how poor she looked, covered in soot and dirt and sweating from the hard trip that they had taken. She looked older, much older, as if she was an old woman with black wrinkles of age and not dirt on her face, but wisdom. Wanda still reflected the image of an eagle, in his eyes. She still had her spunk.
“Przepraszamy, (Sorry)” Feliks replied meekly. “I’m like, doing all that I can.”
“Then why aren’t you trying to save your people, then?” Wanda accused suddenly. Feliks shivered from her icy tone. She sounded angry with him. “Why aren’t you looking for survivors, or trying to put out the fires, or---”
“I can‘t.” The Pole said, mentally questioning her choice of words. His... people...?
“He’s very right, Vy znaete. ” A cold voice whispered in the dark. Neither of them were sure, but the accent sounded Russian…alien to them both. What was going on?!?
“Except vatch us take over his Nation.” An even thicker accent replied to the first. The second sounded distinctly German. Feliks tried to scream as the Russian man jerked his head back to gag him. The former Princess screamed in horror.
“R'ssian---!” Came Feliks’ mumbled cry of despair. The Russian was cloaked in darkness, making Feliks unable to see where he was. The concept was driving the Pole insane. His enemy wwas somewhere amongst him, but he did not know. The Russian was attempting to tie his wrists with one end of some long, accursed fabric, of which Feliks did not know what it was. Wanda shrieked again when the German man with the thick accent grabbed her by the neck in a headlock and threw himself (and her) to the ground.
“Vy oba zamolkaem!” The invisible Russian growled. The former princess continued to whimper, and the kraut-head wasn’t having it. He slapped her roughly, his idea of being gentle. After all, he could have very well punched her. Feliks could see, couldn’t speak, but he heard the contact of the German’s rough hand flying against his Wanda.
“St’p! St’p th’s! St’p hert’n’ ‘er---!” He begged. The Russian yanked back on the scarf, tightening its grip around his neck. He could hear his princess sobbing softly, trying to make as little noise as possible.
“Würden Sie bitte mal den Mund eurem Mund?!?” The German man yelled at the Pole. Feliks flinched. He frightened both Wanda and Feliks, chilling their very souls. The Russian was no better. His breath was cold and it felt like he was being pricked with icicles every time that he spoke.
“Da?” The Russian chuckled. “Spasibo, Germaniya.”
“Mhmn,” the German man replied nonchalantly. Feliks had the worst feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Little did he know about the lead pipe that the Russian held in front of his body, aiming to strike him. Wanda cried out desperately.
“Nie!!!” She screamed. They were trying to kill her once-glorious country, the one that she was proud of so, the Nation that she had drowned herself for. They were going to murder her Feliks!
“Mmh---?!?” Feliks screamed bloody murder when the lead pipe came in contact with his ribcage. White-hot pain rippled through his body in an instant, pain as if he was being ripped apart. The sadistic Russian laughed at his pain. He laughed at his suffering. The damned German smiled at his misery, and Feliks couldn’t hold himself up with his legs any longer. He crumpled down to the floor, arms tied behind his back, unable to fend for himself. Wanda reached for his hand, but the German held her back easily. She slapped his cheek harshly like an angry housewife, and he punched her stomach, knocking her into the dirt wall of the tunnel. She began to sob again, but for herself this time.
“You should not try to retaliate. See him?” The Russian picked up his foot and slammed it against Feliks’ side, causing the latter to cry out with a muffled shriek of agony. The Russian placed the faucet of his lead pipe an inch above the ground, as if he were fixing to swing a golf club. “He is not resisting. His pain is going to be milder than yours if you do not shut up…So you will be quiet now, da?” Ivan smiled a little wider. He reared the pipe back, aiming for Feliks’ head.
Both Wanda and Feliks screamed.
Feliks jerked awake, trembling underneath his bedding. Cold sweat clung to his brow. His breath was shallow, cold, and his eyes stung from tears. He felt all alone in his bed. Who was that woman who seemed to know his name? Was she a spirit of someone...?
“I’m going m-mad-!”
Likes:
-For some reason or another, Feliks somewhat adores bright colors, such as pinks, yellows, oranges, etcetera. He thinks that if you wear them, they will brighten your day.
-Laughing: As an optimist, Feliks often laughs at himself whenever he feels that others are trying to put him down. He’s not afraid to have fun, but he has a sense of dignity.
-Ponies: Feliks’ favorite animal is without a doubt, a pony. Not even a horse yet, the pony is small in stature and adorable in its own way, Feliks thinks. He likes how chubby they look compared to the usually frightening full-grown horse.
-Girly clothing: Feliks might be a young man, but that doesn’t stop him from doing what he does best; being able to pull off women’s clothing better than men’s. (It’s an odd quirk of his, but it certainly works for him.) This is the reason why he wears the waitress uniform instead of a waiters’. Feliks finds women’s clothing more suitable for him than men’s!
Dislikes:
-(Very loud) Thunder: In the nightmares he has, the marching of the German/Russian soldiers often sounds like very loud thunder to him, hence why he hates thunder. This proves to be a bit of a turn off for him, since he lives in the Lowlands. When he doesn’t haves the dreams as often, he doesn’t mind the thunder so much.
-Smoke: Because it reminds him of the gas that was used back in world war two. Whether its cigarette smoke or smoke from a fire, he certainly doesn’t like it. (Who actually does like that smell?)
-Snow: Not only does Feliks hate snow because….well, it’s cold, but snow reminds him of his nightmares, which he’s absolutely terrified of. (Yes, that was a reference about Russia. :3)
-Horses: Horses are massive in size and they could kill you by either throwing you off of them or trampling you. Poland doesn’t like them at all, considering that they make him feel even smaller than he usually is. (Plus ponies are cuter!)
[/size]
Role play Sample:
(I don’t have a sample for Poland yet unless you count the story for his dream. Here’s something from Sweden’s POV. This in particular takes place after the Finnish war in which Russia took control of Finland/the eastern half of Sweden. )
There was another man whom I hated with all the fire in my heart. Denmark, with his wild mane of blond hair, sapphire eyes, and his gut-wrenching smirk made me sick. Mathias, with his large axe with him at all times; Danmark, the man who came home at the latest hours of the night drunk, starting a fight (normally with me) just to prove that he was still the 'King'.
And here he was, legs crossed as he sat in his throne before me. He smirked at my bonds that he had forced me into. To humiliate me further, I feared. Mathias pushed his index fingers together, most likely contemplating whether he wants me chained underground, or if he just wants to mentally impair me. When he stood, I straightened my posture, as I was, on the floor. I wished with all of my heart that I could have won the war, so that this would not be happening.
Perhaps this was happening to Tino as well.
Finn, I prayed, Stay strong for me. I don't care what becomes of me as long as you are treated kindly. I promise, my wife, I'll come for you at the first chance I get. Until then, I'll stay vigilant, for you. God bless you, my beloved. God bless you.
"Forget about that shrimp," Mathias growled. "Forget the man who doesn't love you back, forget him, when you have me." I stared up at him, trying to get him to back off. He should have known that I would always love my wife, no matter if he didn't return the affection that I showed to him. I gave him kindness, after all. That was just a trifle. There really wasn't any point in being rude to someone that I cared about deeply.
"He doesn't have to show me that he loves me," I mumbled, almost incoherent. "I know that he appreciates what I do for him." Denmark frowned and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head up so that I was no longer staring at his boots.
"But he could never love you. Not when you're…you." He smirked and jerked my glasses away from my face. I couldn't see much, but I saw him toss them somewhere, and I heard them hit the wall, probably broken. Mathias began to taunt me like he used to when we were children. "Not when you're as blind as a bat, weaker than a mouse, and about as powerful as dust. He doesn't love you, Sverige. He does not have those sorts of feelings towards men. He's not a fag, like you. "
"That is out of line---!" I yelled. Denmark growled and took hold of my head with both hands on either side of my face. Without warning, he pressed his lips to mine forced his rude tongue into my mouth. I was pinned against the damp, cold wall that I was inevitably chained to, squirming and trying to force him off of me. I struggled, being unable to punch him.
"But---I---Love---You---" He panted once he finished. He must have seen the disgusted look that was showcased on my normally stoic face, because he shot me a murderous smirk. "I LOVE YOU! UNLIKE THAT LITTLE BRAT THAT YOU ARE SO FOND OF! TELL ME, SVERIGE, HAS HE EVER EVEN KISSED YOU ON HIS OWN?!" He roared, absolutely furious.
He was right. My wife had never kissed me on his own. I was always the one to kiss him. He told me that he loved me, however. Or so I thought. Tino always told me that he loved me, after I would tell him the same. I absentmindedly wondered if he only said that not to hurt me emotionally. I hated Denmark for making me think that Tino didn't love me. He did love me, didn't he?
"Nej. (No.)" I said quietly, my heart sinking into my stomach. "Never."
Out of Character
Name/Nickname: Jennifer, but I don’t mind if you call me Jen.
Time zone: EST
Any other information: I quoted Tyra Banks. <3 I’m on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and the weekdays when I can (during holidays and whatnot), but I’m usually not on during the week. However, I’ve been in this kind of situation before and I can easily catch up to what is necessary if needed. I plan to be as active as possible, but sometimes I may have to remain absent due to school or something else. Regarding to this role play, I am used to roleplaying Sweden, to be honest. I decided to try Poland since I find him to be amusing.
Also, I do a blog (I just started) with Poland on livejournal. sekemilyon.livejournal.com/
I find Polish history very saddening, in a way. The myths and folklore of Poland is fabulous. (Like, totally!) So I decided to do a little research on myths. That’s why Feliks’ dream is…like the way it is. Hey, I should get props for not using any swear words or rape in there. (Which is how I picture WWII for Poland, honestly.) That was difficult for me. <3
Beginning Notes: I'm sorry if this is way too long...
These streets so fixed and solid
Were shimming with hate
[/b][/i]Were shimming with hate
"Never dull your shine for somebody else."[/center][/size]
And everything that I relied on
Disappeared
Disappeared
Country: Poland
Name: Feliks £ukasiewicz
Gender: Male (Believe it or not…)
Age: 19
Profession: Fashion Designer/Waiter (Since he needs money. He also wears the Waitress’ attire for this job and he pulls his hair back. …It’s a Poland thing. Also, he designs clothes but he doesn’t really have the money to actually produce them. Either way, he knows what looks good on ya.)
Highlander or Lowlander?: Lowlander
All the strangers look like family
All the family look so strange
All the family look so strange
Appearance:
Feliks is an average-sized young man, standing at 5’6.5” tall. He has chin-length straight blond hair that he often pulls back with a ribbon or two, and bright chartreuse eyes. Feliks is of medium build; not too scrawny and not very muscular, if at all. This makes him appear a bit younger than how old he really is, so he often has to prove that he’s 19 and not 16 instead. He also has thin shoulders and lank arms, a reason why Feliks is often mistaken for a girl. (Not that he really minds.)
He usually wears either a pair of dark brown pants with a long-sleeved turtleneck shirt and a thick grey pea coat with his hair tied back in a brown bow. If not, the young man would probably wear something more feminine and relaxed. Feliks isn’t deterred by wearing pink, like some men are. He actually finds that bright colors make you feel happier than dull colored clothing.
Personality:
Feliks £ukasiewicz is an optimist, like many people attempt to be. He prefers to be happy with what he’s got, rather than cry over what he’s not. He is perfectly happy and content where he is, though of course, there are catches to his (or anyone else’s) happiness. Large horses, smoke, and thunder cause his heartbeat to accelerate. He isn’t very fond of certain Germans either.
Feliks is, however, a good person with his own odd quirks and habits, such as having a “valley girl” type accent when he speaks. (This means that he talks somewhat like a teenage girl and uses “like”, “totally”, and “seriously” a lot when speaking.) Feliks has a sense of pride for both himself and others, which is why he tries to stick up for his friends. However, due to a shyness complex, he’s not great at communicating with people that he doesn’t know and this makes it hard for him to defend himself.
Though he may seem a bit proud of himself, Feliks £ukasiewicz isn’t all that conceited. He just expects himself to win an argument from time to time. He’s an optimist with enough self-confidence to fill at least three people.
History:
Feliks was never really concerned for his family. You see, he knew only of his mother, as it was only her that was there at the time of his birth. His mother was a feminist, and without a father to help raise Feliks, she took care of him and raised him on her own, with her own set of beliefs. She taught Feliks that you should trust everyone until they stab you in the back, and that everyone is innocent until proven guilty. His mother was a sweet woman, whose husband drowned in the sea.
It was said that Feliks’ father was a strong believer in myths that his own parents had taught him about. One of those was about the Rusalki, who were a type of water nymph that lured men to their deaths by singing to them or seducing them. Now his father was a nice man. He was polite and he kept to himself and his business, but he could tell the most fascinating stories to children and even Feliks’ mother.
Whilst he and his friends from the sea port celebrated the New Year, none of them cared to actually check around their area. The moon was black, being a new moon, and they had built up a bonfire so they could see each other in the darkness. It was a few of his friends and he himself that heard it, but they were only three in number. Only three out of the twenty odd men heard the quiet sound of something, or someone, laughing. Being the adventurous man he was, Feliks’ father searched for the source of the noise, not noticing that he was alone until he was lost in the forest.
“…Who’s there…?” His speech was slightly slurred from the liquor that he had been taking in that night. “I know….someone’s there---!”
“It’s alright,” a sweet, calm voice said gently to him from behind. He jumped when a woman, average-sized with long, blond hair wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m not gonna hurt you, silly man. I overheard you and your friends having fun, so I wanted to meet you…”
“It’s….New….Year’s… ” He mumbled. “Of course we’re having fun.” He shrugged out of her grip and apologized. “Sorry…shouldn’ta came out here, I think. It’s getting cold, ya know. Maybe you should come back to the fire and get warm…? If ya’d like, anyways. Ya seem like a nice kid.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly. She took ahold of his arm, however, and steered him away from the direction that he had come. “I know a quicker route.”
“You don’t seem ta be from the Lowlands….”
“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean that you can be rude to me.” She giggled, standing in front of a large, shimmering lake. The stars reflected in it beautifully, and she was tempted to show him how beautiful it was underthe water. She smirked.
x-x-x
Feliks’ mother could do nothing but sit and mourn for her lost husband. The Lowlanders couldn’t even find his body in the sea. That left the poor woman without support for her child and without her lover. When Feliks arrived, she knew that he would have to be brought up differently than most children in modern day society.
Feliks was taught how to sew, cook, and clean. He didn’t want to learn when he was younger, but he gradually got over it and decided to help out his mother. They both took turns with doing the household chores until he came of age and left her. Before he left, however, Feliks had only a few close friends. One was a young man by the name of Toris, whom he admired for his politeness and hospitality. He and Toris are still close friends, but they only talk to each other when in town.
When he left, Feliks’ could only afford a small apartment in the Lowlands, where he quickly took up a job at a local bar like many of the Lowlanders. When not at work, he designs clothes for himself and for others, just getting basic concepts as he takes care of priorities such as food and the mortgage first.
Recurring nightmare:
(Be warned that this is extremely long and there is violence in the end. Also, Princess Wanda was a polish princess who was to become the queen when her father died. A German prince wanted to marry her, but he would not let her refuse. She would never disgrace her country by marrying a GERMAN, so she drowned herself instead.)
The thundering of thousands of pairs of boots is ringing through the night air. The few people that are lucky enough to be alive in the ravaged city of Warsaw cowered in their hiding places. Only two civilians were running around. A Mr. Feliks £ukasiewicz and a former princess of his that went by the name of Wanda. They were running for their lives; Feliks trying to catch his former to-be queen.
“Please, stop, like, running! They’ll kill us if they find us!” he said as she paused. The Pole gently placed a rough, calloused hand on the princess Wanda’s shoulder and stepped in front of the once beautiful woman. His chartreuse eyes looked downcast as he visualized her former beauty. Where she had once had long, beautiful brown locks, she had scraggly, short hair that barely went past her ears. Her eyes had long lost that shine in them. Wanda never smiled anymore, and it was killing the nation to see her so pitiful. “Wanda, please… We need to get out of here.”
“I can’t stand---” she choked on the smoke that clung around them as their glorious town burned to the ground. They fanned the smoke from around them. The thunder continued on. Distant cries of despair were heard, making both of them cringe. “---to see this, Feliks. What has happened to the city that I once knew?” The Pole couldn’t bear to answer her, or even look at her anymore. Waving more smoke from the billows that were circling them, Feliks grabbed her arm and pulled her quickly from the burning shell of someone’s home. He didn’t look back, he just knew that she was expecting an answer from him.
“Princess,” he croaked quietly. “I know as much as you do on this matter. This is like, new to me, and I’m not even sure what like, happened, you know…?”
“You’re saying that you don’t know what happened here, Feliks?” The Princess asked. She tugged on his arm so he would stop dragging her. Instead, he did his best to ignore his former commander. It was difficult, but he managed to get them to one of the burning houses that had a basement. Feliks stopped and tapped on the ground with his foot. It sounded hollow…
“…Why should I know?”
“Because you’re Feliks, my dear. You should know why they are being attacked.” Feliks mentally cursed himself for making her so proud of him. Sometimes, Wanda made him feel as if he wasn’t good enough for her. She treated him like he was supposed to be god.
“…Because the Kraut-Head wanted to like, start a war,” he huffed as he clambered around, searching for the trap door. Smiling without humor, he found it, and promptly threw it open. He stuck his head down in the hole, only to find blackness.
“Princess,”
“I’m not sure that we should go down there. Do you have any idea as of what is down there?”
“Blackness,” Feliks replied shortly, not having the time nor the strength to tell her that he had no idea what was lurking in the basement. He stood up slowly and motioned for his princess to come towards him. “Please…” he begged when she didn’t budge.
“Nie,” she said, stomping her foot on the ground to let him know that she meant it. Feliks panicked and grabbed her arm again. He shoved her in front of him and then pushed her down into the basement. Princess Wanda shrieked in pain as her head hit the stairs. “Co to do cholery myœlisz, e robisz? (What the hell do you think you are doing?)” She yelled at him. “Co jest z tob, Feliks? (What is wrong with you, Feliks?)” Feliks felt terrible for having to use force, but there was no way that he would let her die from lung cancer from the horrid black smoke that clouded around him now.
“Forgive me, please, Princess. I just don’t want you to like, get hurt…Seriously….” He let himself into the basement and closed the door above him. Oil lamps flickered two in a row down the long, narrow tunnel that was built under the house. A few crates and barrels of supplies lied around uselessly, along with a blanket in the corner of the left route. Mice squeaked helplessly and somewhere, a bird or a bat flapped its wings. Wanda huffed impatiently at him.
“You’re not doing a very well job of that,” she said, dusting her long, weather-worn dress off. Feliks hated how poor she looked, covered in soot and dirt and sweating from the hard trip that they had taken. She looked older, much older, as if she was an old woman with black wrinkles of age and not dirt on her face, but wisdom. Wanda still reflected the image of an eagle, in his eyes. She still had her spunk.
“Przepraszamy, (Sorry)” Feliks replied meekly. “I’m like, doing all that I can.”
“Then why aren’t you trying to save your people, then?” Wanda accused suddenly. Feliks shivered from her icy tone. She sounded angry with him. “Why aren’t you looking for survivors, or trying to put out the fires, or---”
“I can‘t.” The Pole said, mentally questioning her choice of words. His... people...?
“He’s very right, Vy znaete. ” A cold voice whispered in the dark. Neither of them were sure, but the accent sounded Russian…alien to them both. What was going on?!?
“Except vatch us take over his Nation.” An even thicker accent replied to the first. The second sounded distinctly German. Feliks tried to scream as the Russian man jerked his head back to gag him. The former Princess screamed in horror.
“R'ssian---!” Came Feliks’ mumbled cry of despair. The Russian was cloaked in darkness, making Feliks unable to see where he was. The concept was driving the Pole insane. His enemy wwas somewhere amongst him, but he did not know. The Russian was attempting to tie his wrists with one end of some long, accursed fabric, of which Feliks did not know what it was. Wanda shrieked again when the German man with the thick accent grabbed her by the neck in a headlock and threw himself (and her) to the ground.
“Vy oba zamolkaem!” The invisible Russian growled. The former princess continued to whimper, and the kraut-head wasn’t having it. He slapped her roughly, his idea of being gentle. After all, he could have very well punched her. Feliks could see, couldn’t speak, but he heard the contact of the German’s rough hand flying against his Wanda.
“St’p! St’p th’s! St’p hert’n’ ‘er---!” He begged. The Russian yanked back on the scarf, tightening its grip around his neck. He could hear his princess sobbing softly, trying to make as little noise as possible.
“Würden Sie bitte mal den Mund eurem Mund?!?” The German man yelled at the Pole. Feliks flinched. He frightened both Wanda and Feliks, chilling their very souls. The Russian was no better. His breath was cold and it felt like he was being pricked with icicles every time that he spoke.
“Da?” The Russian chuckled. “Spasibo, Germaniya.”
“Mhmn,” the German man replied nonchalantly. Feliks had the worst feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Little did he know about the lead pipe that the Russian held in front of his body, aiming to strike him. Wanda cried out desperately.
“Nie!!!” She screamed. They were trying to kill her once-glorious country, the one that she was proud of so, the Nation that she had drowned herself for. They were going to murder her Feliks!
“Mmh---?!?” Feliks screamed bloody murder when the lead pipe came in contact with his ribcage. White-hot pain rippled through his body in an instant, pain as if he was being ripped apart. The sadistic Russian laughed at his pain. He laughed at his suffering. The damned German smiled at his misery, and Feliks couldn’t hold himself up with his legs any longer. He crumpled down to the floor, arms tied behind his back, unable to fend for himself. Wanda reached for his hand, but the German held her back easily. She slapped his cheek harshly like an angry housewife, and he punched her stomach, knocking her into the dirt wall of the tunnel. She began to sob again, but for herself this time.
“You should not try to retaliate. See him?” The Russian picked up his foot and slammed it against Feliks’ side, causing the latter to cry out with a muffled shriek of agony. The Russian placed the faucet of his lead pipe an inch above the ground, as if he were fixing to swing a golf club. “He is not resisting. His pain is going to be milder than yours if you do not shut up…So you will be quiet now, da?” Ivan smiled a little wider. He reared the pipe back, aiming for Feliks’ head.
Both Wanda and Feliks screamed.
Feliks jerked awake, trembling underneath his bedding. Cold sweat clung to his brow. His breath was shallow, cold, and his eyes stung from tears. He felt all alone in his bed. Who was that woman who seemed to know his name? Was she a spirit of someone...?
“I’m going m-mad-!”
The only constant I am sure of
Is this accelerating rate of change
Is this accelerating rate of change
Likes:
-For some reason or another, Feliks somewhat adores bright colors, such as pinks, yellows, oranges, etcetera. He thinks that if you wear them, they will brighten your day.
-Laughing: As an optimist, Feliks often laughs at himself whenever he feels that others are trying to put him down. He’s not afraid to have fun, but he has a sense of dignity.
-Ponies: Feliks’ favorite animal is without a doubt, a pony. Not even a horse yet, the pony is small in stature and adorable in its own way, Feliks thinks. He likes how chubby they look compared to the usually frightening full-grown horse.
-Girly clothing: Feliks might be a young man, but that doesn’t stop him from doing what he does best; being able to pull off women’s clothing better than men’s. (It’s an odd quirk of his, but it certainly works for him.) This is the reason why he wears the waitress uniform instead of a waiters’. Feliks finds women’s clothing more suitable for him than men’s!
Dislikes:
-(Very loud) Thunder: In the nightmares he has, the marching of the German/Russian soldiers often sounds like very loud thunder to him, hence why he hates thunder. This proves to be a bit of a turn off for him, since he lives in the Lowlands. When he doesn’t haves the dreams as often, he doesn’t mind the thunder so much.
-Smoke: Because it reminds him of the gas that was used back in world war two. Whether its cigarette smoke or smoke from a fire, he certainly doesn’t like it. (Who actually does like that smell?)
-Snow: Not only does Feliks hate snow because….well, it’s cold, but snow reminds him of his nightmares, which he’s absolutely terrified of. (Yes, that was a reference about Russia. :3)
-Horses: Horses are massive in size and they could kill you by either throwing you off of them or trampling you. Poland doesn’t like them at all, considering that they make him feel even smaller than he usually is. (Plus ponies are cuter!)
Downside up, upside down
Take my weight from the ground
[/b][/right]Take my weight from the ground
[/size]
Role play Sample:
(I don’t have a sample for Poland yet unless you count the story for his dream. Here’s something from Sweden’s POV. This in particular takes place after the Finnish war in which Russia took control of Finland/the eastern half of Sweden. )
There was another man whom I hated with all the fire in my heart. Denmark, with his wild mane of blond hair, sapphire eyes, and his gut-wrenching smirk made me sick. Mathias, with his large axe with him at all times; Danmark, the man who came home at the latest hours of the night drunk, starting a fight (normally with me) just to prove that he was still the 'King'.
And here he was, legs crossed as he sat in his throne before me. He smirked at my bonds that he had forced me into. To humiliate me further, I feared. Mathias pushed his index fingers together, most likely contemplating whether he wants me chained underground, or if he just wants to mentally impair me. When he stood, I straightened my posture, as I was, on the floor. I wished with all of my heart that I could have won the war, so that this would not be happening.
Perhaps this was happening to Tino as well.
Finn, I prayed, Stay strong for me. I don't care what becomes of me as long as you are treated kindly. I promise, my wife, I'll come for you at the first chance I get. Until then, I'll stay vigilant, for you. God bless you, my beloved. God bless you.
"Forget about that shrimp," Mathias growled. "Forget the man who doesn't love you back, forget him, when you have me." I stared up at him, trying to get him to back off. He should have known that I would always love my wife, no matter if he didn't return the affection that I showed to him. I gave him kindness, after all. That was just a trifle. There really wasn't any point in being rude to someone that I cared about deeply.
"He doesn't have to show me that he loves me," I mumbled, almost incoherent. "I know that he appreciates what I do for him." Denmark frowned and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head up so that I was no longer staring at his boots.
"But he could never love you. Not when you're…you." He smirked and jerked my glasses away from my face. I couldn't see much, but I saw him toss them somewhere, and I heard them hit the wall, probably broken. Mathias began to taunt me like he used to when we were children. "Not when you're as blind as a bat, weaker than a mouse, and about as powerful as dust. He doesn't love you, Sverige. He does not have those sorts of feelings towards men. He's not a fag, like you. "
"That is out of line---!" I yelled. Denmark growled and took hold of my head with both hands on either side of my face. Without warning, he pressed his lips to mine forced his rude tongue into my mouth. I was pinned against the damp, cold wall that I was inevitably chained to, squirming and trying to force him off of me. I struggled, being unable to punch him.
"But---I---Love---You---" He panted once he finished. He must have seen the disgusted look that was showcased on my normally stoic face, because he shot me a murderous smirk. "I LOVE YOU! UNLIKE THAT LITTLE BRAT THAT YOU ARE SO FOND OF! TELL ME, SVERIGE, HAS HE EVER EVEN KISSED YOU ON HIS OWN?!" He roared, absolutely furious.
He was right. My wife had never kissed me on his own. I was always the one to kiss him. He told me that he loved me, however. Or so I thought. Tino always told me that he loved me, after I would tell him the same. I absentmindedly wondered if he only said that not to hurt me emotionally. I hated Denmark for making me think that Tino didn't love me. He did love me, didn't he?
"Nej. (No.)" I said quietly, my heart sinking into my stomach. "Never."
Falling deep in the sky
Slipping into the unknown
Slipping into the unknown
Out of Character
Name/Nickname: Jennifer, but I don’t mind if you call me Jen.
Time zone: EST
Any other information: I quoted Tyra Banks. <3 I’m on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and the weekdays when I can (during holidays and whatnot), but I’m usually not on during the week. However, I’ve been in this kind of situation before and I can easily catch up to what is necessary if needed. I plan to be as active as possible, but sometimes I may have to remain absent due to school or something else. Regarding to this role play, I am used to roleplaying Sweden, to be honest. I decided to try Poland since I find him to be amusing.
Also, I do a blog (I just started) with Poland on livejournal. sekemilyon.livejournal.com/
I find Polish history very saddening, in a way. The myths and folklore of Poland is fabulous. (Like, totally!) So I decided to do a little research on myths. That’s why Feliks’ dream is…like the way it is. Hey, I should get props for not using any swear words or rape in there. (Which is how I picture WWII for Poland, honestly.) That was difficult for me. <3
You pull me in…
P u l l
m e i n.[/size][/i][/right][/b]P u l l
