Israel
Slave
She's like those people who get abused and then go psycho.
Posts: 47
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Post by Israel on Oct 9, 2010 12:41:15 GMT -5
Israel watch Austria struggle with an internal sense of glee at the man's plight. She obviously remembered the madness that dotted his history and she didn't really want him to revert to that, despite his Habsburgs being removed from him. Briskly walking to to Lovino, who had fainted, she turned around as she remembered the other person there.
Eyes narrowing as she remembered the man who once extended his hand to hers and told her she could stay with him, Israel looked at Prussia. 'Little Saint Maria seems to be alive and kicking.' She thinks, frowning since Prussia's Old Fritz had been extremely kind to her people, therefore she couldn't disrespect his memory by insulting the former nation.
Her boots make patting noises as she looked upon the fainting Italian. "I can get some water if he needs it."
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Post by Feliciano Vargas on Oct 11, 2010 3:32:13 GMT -5
Feliciano didn't give much attention to the movements of the people around and behind him. He kept staring at his brother, waiting for any sign of life. Eventually, Lovino moved slightly; his breath seemed regular as if he was asleep. At this point, Feliciano felt the sudden urge to see him open his eyes - there was no way his brother could leave him like this. No, no, no. Almost caught in a panic attack, he grabbed Lovino's shoulders and shook him. "Fratello! Wake up! Svegliati!!!" he cried out, moving him with maybe more strength than he was planning.
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romano
Wastelander
Warning: The edges of a broken mind may be sharp. Handle with care.
Posts: 38
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Post by romano on Oct 15, 2010 11:23:12 GMT -5
Lovino exploded out of Antonio's arms and his brothers grip. He landed, then stumbled back a few more steps until his back hit a wall. He moved his hands, both holding small knives, into a defensive position infront of him.
Lovino breathed hard, still not truely awake and counted six people in the vicinity. His eyes moves to all of them in turn, not really seeing them as he looked for weapons and any threatening movements.
After a few moments Lovino became aware that he knew these people. He saw Austria (who would have thought the aristocrat would make it?), Prussia (how was he...without a country...not that he was one to judge), Israel (unkillable), Greece (He had been worried..), Spain (He found him again...), and his brother. His brother. Veneziano. Feliciano.
Lovino put his knives away and shook his head, blinking. "What just...?" He didn't know how to finish.
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Post by Antonio Fernández Carriedo on Oct 15, 2010 12:26:20 GMT -5
Antonio blinked, having been caught off-guard by Lovino's sudden movements. "Lovino?" He asked almost hesitantly, looking worried as he stood up, "Lovi, are you alright?" He wondered if it would be a good idea to go to Lovino, or if it was best to stay put. The Italian had obviously been traumatized by something...which only made Antonio worry more.
What could have happened to his precious little Italian to make him react that way? Certainly it hadn't been anything good...Antonio wished he had been there to comfort Lovino. Of course, he was worried about Feliciano too, and was happy to see him alive and semi-well. But his worries were understandably more focused on Lovino at the moment.
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Post by Feliciano Vargas on Nov 7, 2010 7:04:58 GMT -5
((replying 'cause I need to post, but.. are we still going on with this thread?))
Feliciano looked as his brother stumbles back and took out his knives. He looked at the peoples surrounding him as if he was expecting them to attack him from a moment to another. His gaze was wild and cold, and Feliciano almost stepped back, scared of his own brother. But the relief of seeing him alive and kicking in front of him was too big for the nation, and he made a few steps towards Lovino, a pleading expression on his face.
"Fratello? You just passed out and... but are you okay?" he asked expectantly. He had the urge of hugging him tight, and cry all his tears on Lovino's chest, confessing him how scared he had been that his brother could have died somewhere far and how lonely he had been without him... still, that puzzled expression in Lovino's eyes kept him at distance.
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Post by Roderich Edelstein on Nov 15, 2010 16:22:45 GMT -5
OOC: Okay, even my "I'm 10,000 words behind on NaNoWriMo" excuse isn't working for me anymore. I'm just going to post now. It's going to suck and I don't care. Also, if anyone hasn't seen the plot thread, go check that out for an explanation. IC: Roderich watched as his fellow nations walked off through the dust-laden streets of Dry Rose, kicking up a cloud of dehydrated earth as they moved. He turned back to the ones staying behind with him. It was nearly too much to comprehend, still, but thanks to Israel, he knew that this was indeed real life. Almost out of habit, he picked up his canteen and frowned as he remembered that he had very little precious water left. OOC: Whenever you're ready, Israel, bring on Fromage~
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Post by Fromage on Mar 26, 2011 20:03:56 GMT -5
(I SO SORRY, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME)
Fromage looks up from her dusty rock. The patterns, their swirling, she had focused on those wonderful patterns. As the day got progressively hotter and drier, Fromage felt herself melting, her mumblings, rather well-known by the locals, they all knew as that crazy homeless woman, got sparser and she waited for someone to spare her the heat and give her some water.
Her dirty, dusty knots were swept out of her eyes as she laid back on her rocks, her eyes glazed with thirst. "Ma soif, ma soif!" (My thirst, my thirst)But it was useless. The towns people barely had enough water for themselves, especially not for Fromage d'grenouille, who, according to rumors, said was pouffiasse who ended up this way after her souteneur took his hand (or stick, or handle of his gun) to her head a few too many times. No, the only source( that was supposedly clean) water was a spring, but it was surrounded by creatures and L' Rose Sec didn't have enough people willing to face those monsters.
It was around 4 when Fromage noticed an odd group of people. One she recognised as the Spaniard spirit, local name for him and that flirty blonde one who people knew were not very..human. The others looked the same, attractive somehow, yet many of them had been through the mill from the state of their clothes and the slightly saddened looks of their faces. And one of them had..a canteen!
"Mon bon monsieur, la charité! S'il vous plaît un peu d'eau détachées!" She called out loudly to the chestnut-haired man with glasses and rather nice clothes.
(My good sir, charity! Please spare some water!)
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