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    Rebelling against the Silence

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    Magnus Densen
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    Join date : 2012-02-15

    Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Magnus Densen on July 12th 2012, 9:35 pm



    P R O L O G U E



    Her cries and screams could not be heard; her punches and kicks could not shatter the glass. She was trapped in a world unknown to her and she had no idea how to return home. Rose slammed her bruised fist into the glass as hard as she could and screamed at the top of her lungs "Let me out of here!", but to no use...

    No one could hear her; no one could see her.

    The side of her hand was throbbing with pain. It had a shade of blue mixed with red... one more slam and she would smear the glass with her own very blood.
    "Tch...", she said. Taking in a deep breath, she took a few steps back and threw herself at the mirror, slamming her shoulder into the glass. The mirror shook, but it didn't break... Her small body slid down the glass and onto the ground, panting heavily. Her hopes of getting out alive began to fade and she was just about to give up if she didn't catch the glimpse of something pink on the other side of the glass. Rose froze for a moment. Her head turned to look at the figure standing on the opposite side in terror. "You... It was you who bloody trapped me here!" She placed her hands on the glass to support her weight as she turned on her knees. "I demand you let me out of here this instance!", shouted Rose.

    "❀ Demand? ❀", the player would tilt her head to the side in confusion. Her appearance was strikingly similar to Rose's. They shared the same face, body type, height, hairstyle and even clothing; the only difference were the colours: player 2's hair was russet brown, her eyes were icy blue and her maid outfit was pink. Her voice was melodic and had a cheery tone to it, unlike the other player's voice. "❀ Now, why would I do such a thing, love? Your world is far better than mine and I'm not planning to leave ❀", cheered Alice. Her lips took the shape of a sinister grin as she bent down to her counterpart's level. "❀ You can't escape, so just give up, ok~? ❀"




    "It's our time to rise."


    Last edited by ❀ᖇ0ᔕᗴ ḰiᖇḰᒪᗩﬡᖙ❀ on July 13th 2012, 5:19 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Changed the 2P's name to Alice.)



     
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    Francis Bonnefoy

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Francis Bonnefoy on July 12th 2012, 10:47 pm



    ~Starter~

    The French Player sighed irritably, grumbling lightly to himself as he lay splayed out across his rugged couch in the dump of a room he called home. The barren 2P demension seemed to grow more and more duller each day, well, at least to the Frenchman it did. Everyone was just as annoying as usual, be it grumpy and irritable, or disgustingly cheery and happy. The Frenchman had to admit..perhaps his 1P, as well as the others, had it easy amongst one another in such a light, 'happy' world in their little demension. As for the 2Ps...well, it wasn't so easy anymore. The Frenchman looked nothing like his 1P; except for, of course, the eyes and hair. The French Player's attire wasn't flashy or fashionable; it was dull and filthy, not that he cared, and a fair ammount of unshaved stubble remained on his chin. And of course, he differed greatly in personality; the French Player was more for hardcore lust than 'true love'.

    Just like any other 2P, he differed from his 1P, though perhaps not as extreme as the others.
    The Frenchman growled slightly, glaring at nothing in particular as he lifted a burning cigarette to his lips, letting out a hacking cough once he took in a breath. Being quite the smoker, his lungs weren't treating him so well, resulting in the usual sickness now and then, unlike his flambouyant 1P, Francis. Irritable, the Frenchman scowled, blowing out a ring of dark grey smoke into the already smoke-tainted air, arm slung over the armrest of the couch-he lay there for a moment until he slipped off the edge of the couch with a dull thud onto the floor. The French Player cursed out in his native tongue, lazilly just laying on the floor for a moment, as though he were too tired to get up.

    Muttering under his breath, the Frenchman let out a hacking cough as he slightly heaved himself up, staggering to his feet and leaning against the wall, growling slightly in arrogance. "Damn.." He scoffed lightly, removing the cigarette from his lips for a moment as he puffed out a bit of smoke, running a free hand through his shaggy hair, dull blue eyes flickering over to the wreck of a home he had; beer and wine bottles were littered on the floor, the walls horribly stained, empty cigarette packets all over the floor. In all honesty, the French Player didn't exactly care about his living conditions; he had no reason to clean up, nor did he even care what people of this demension thought about him. He'd rather take a bullet to the head than continue living with the, what he called, annoying idiots of this demension. Everyone was just an annoyance to the French Player, nothing more.

    Muttering nonsense under his breath, the Frenchman placed the cigarette back to his lips, turning and opening the front door, where he stepped out, slamming the door behind him and slumping against the wall on the porch. He just sat there, dull blue gaze scanning the rugged landscape of a wrecked town ahead, as well as the other local of homes of any neighboring 2Ps.

    As much as he hated this place, he had to admit it was better than nothing. Whether he lived in a dump or not, he simply didn't care. The Frenchman wasn't so sure about the other 2Ps, though he wasn't bothered to even ask what they thought of this demension; it wouldn't do any good.

    The French Player grumbled various vulgarities under his breath, muttering about 'despair', 'death' , 'annoyances', and reminding himself to buy another pack of cigarettes later in the day. He smirked faintly, a sneer curling at his lips, letting out a humorless chuckle, followed by another hacking cough as he raised his head slightly, glancing around for a moment. Screw this. The Frenchman thought with a dry chuckle, by now just laying down on his porch in what looked like a drunken manner as he smoked his cigarette, laughing humorlessly to himself.


    Last edited by Francis Bonnefoy on July 28th 2014, 2:05 pm; edited 1 time in total
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    Ivan Braginski

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Ivan Braginski on July 13th 2012, 12:03 am

    A vast manor-house towered like a dark, run-down threshold against the cloudy skies, not too far off from where the drunken Frenchman sat.

    The mental realm that the First Players created for the Second Players was far less pleasant than the 'real world.' This nightmarish realm was darker for the most parts and the living conditions were quite poor. Not to mention... things were almost unbelievably boring. Violent outbrakes was an every-day activity between the second Players who were constantly picking fights in order to keep themselves occupied. This world was also smaller... Much.. much smaller.

    This mental realm was appalling compared to the real world.

    The world where everything was brighter.. happier... animals roamed and there was pure, innocent life beaming all around like a beautiful light that engulfed the soul..

    Disgusting.

    The scowling gaze of bloodshot red irises raked burnt-up papers gripped tightly between a black-gloved hand. The papers lookes as though they were used to take many notes, yet crumpled up and thrown in the fireplace. Their condition suggested that their flaming fate was played out and reconsidered more than once...

    The bloody eyes belonged to a deathly pale, unsmiling face of one of the tallest of Second-world Players. Player Two Ivan Braginski was, like the other 2Ps, very different than the innocent-faced First Player Russia. It was rare, almost unheard of to see Player Two Russia smile.

    His hair was not silvery, nor were his eyes their brilliant shade of amethyst; instead, they bore the same bloody red shade. Vanya's eyes were always bloodshot, with dark rings underneath indicating the lack of sleep. His hair was longer than the First-player's, hanging in a dirty curtain over his eyes. The usual beige trench coat of Ivan's was an inky black with red, shabby rims.

    It wasn't just the appearance that differed, however... while Player One Ivan adored many things, Player Two Vanya was much more irritable, snappish, and just plain vile to be around. he hated other Players and other people.. he hated crowds.. he hated anything sickeningly happy, bright, or pre---

    A small ray of light filtered through the edges of the thick, drawn-shut curtain and blaired its gentle light right into those bloody red irises. 2P Russia's face contorted into a brief pained expression as he snapped a hand up to shield his eyes from the light with an aggravaged groan. The Russian had spent so much time in his shabby manor, locked away and isolated from the idiots outside, that the natural light hurt his eyes.

    With an aggravated growl, the Russian stood with such force that the chair screeched back against the ground and strode to the curtain, pulling it shut to forbid any more light from reaching the dark room.

    Vanya's hand rose and ran his fingers through the dark, bloody red hair before grudgingly walking back to his desk and taking a seat. However, his mind was anywhere but the aimless notes, battle plans, and morbid doodles on the burnt paper.

    Could it be that the mental back-ups the First Players created actually had feelings of their own? Vanya personally was tired of being thought as as some mental transformation the 'Normal' Russia changed into when he didn't want to deal with something. Of course.. leave the dirty work to Player Two.

    Vanya crumpled the thin papers between his gloved hands and threw it into the flickering fireplace before turning and throwing his feet up on the desk. Ivan picked up the half-empty bottle of vodka lying on the table and pressed it to his feverish lips.

    What a bore this life is... the second Player missed those days where Ivan lost control in just a turn of the wind... why the fuck had he not had one of his mental breakdowns in such a long time?! Could it be that... maybe... Ivan was finally learning to strenthen his mental bonds...?

    Vanya nearly choked on the burning alcahol at that startling thought. If his First Player tightened the bonds... then he will have to spend much more time in this damned world.

    That... cannot happen.

    With a growl, the red-haired Russian grabbed hold of a dagger on his desk and flung it with all his might against the wall, adding it to the collection of sharp objects embedded into the surroundings.



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    Antonio F. Carriedo

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Antonio F. Carriedo on July 13th 2012, 12:43 am



    A few miles from where the Frenchmen stood was a suprsingly well organized villa. And inside of that villa was the one and only 'Second Player' as they referred to each other to differ from their happier counterparts. His world was full of darkness and despair much how Third world countries faired in the real world.

    One could hear sharp screams blasting through the night's sky as a tall, dark figure stepped out one of the villa's rooms. The man appeared to resemble Antonio Fernandez Carrideo, the only difference was that his hair was not a lushes light almond brown but a jet black color and his eyes were a dark amber color not a deep green. His attire wasn't as wild as his other half but that of a mob boss. He wore a vest and black slacks with black dress shoes. Hell most of the other players would consider him to have rougeish charmer.

    The one major difference from him and Player One is the major 360 attitude adjustment. Andrés was emotion less and was not the type to share what he considered to be his. If anyone touched something that belonged to him, he would grab you by the hair and torture you until you gave him a valid reason on why he should share.

    Player Two would bring his knife that was dripping blood onto his floor and would bring it to his lips, where he would lick the blood clean off with his tongue. "I wonder where Romano had gone off to." He shrugged his shoulders as he made his way over to the couch, where he would sit down and bring his right leg over his left and take a sip of some wine that he had imported from Austria. "Just wait Antonio...it will soon be my time to take over once again...this time...for good..." His lips would end up forming a small grin as he thought about cutting up his other counterpart to bits.


    Last edited by Antonio F. Carriedo on July 13th 2012, 7:21 pm; edited 2 times in total





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    Luka Bondevik

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Luka Bondevik on July 13th 2012, 1:34 am

    As much as she hated being in a dull plain world that bored her most of the time, she did in fact enjoy the part that involved her practicing and honing on her swordsmanship skills. She was known to be one of the best dual wielding swordsmen of the 2P realm, but was always taken lightly, for the fact of the Gothic steam-punk look she wore when battling and also that she was a young lady. She knew no matter how boring the 2P realm may be Yuzkin wanted to take a gander and try out what the 1P realm had in store and if she could make the residents there fall for her seductive and sadictic looks and have some fun before bringing them into the 2P realm. Unlike her 1P self, Yuzkin was an extreme beauty, but because of that beauty she was heartless, seductive, sadistic and cold blooded and hates it when others get in the way of things and if that happens she won't hold back on cutting them to shreds.

    Yuzkin was always the one to akin to the dangerous stuff because she always got a thrill out of it she didn't care what happened to her or the others around her.


    Now? I just need to mess with my 1P self. It wouldn't hurt to see through Yuu's eyes and see what that realm looks like. -her dark gaze looking back at the obstacle of sliced trees- My, my I'm not at the best I can be right now, but yet I need something more to fill my appetite.

    Yuzkin was getting sick and tired of just wasting her time in the 2P realm, she placed both swords back into theirs sheaths and took immediate action to get the hell out of her realm and into the 1P realm and have the time of her life. She happened to notice a slight change in herself and knew that something had happened to her 1P self. She sat on the ground and concentrated her energy to get in focus with her 1P self's mind and mess with Yuu little by little.

    -talking through Yuu herself- What a pity. . . I thought you out of all people were the strictest and strongest young person, but I guess I was wrong. Right now you look like a small child that can't help, but cry out their eyes and worry about what's going to happen next. Am I right?

    -grabbing onto her head- Shut up! This has nothing to do with you. I don't need your advice on anything just get out of my head and leave me alone you disgusting abomination.

    -concentrating enough energy to move Yuu's body freely- Tch. 'Disgusting abomination' you say? You make me want to laugh, but sadly I can't. -walking around in the room and placing Yuu's hand on the glass window-
    It's sad that you can't be your true self like you use to be and all I wanted to do was just have some fun with you that all Hehehe. . .

    -trying her hardest to get her 2P self out of her mind and regain control of her body- But at least I have something that you wouldn't have in your realm.

    -starting to lose slight control of Yuu's body- Enlighten me why don't you little one~ -giving off a smirk-

    I. . .I have family and friends whom care and worry about me. Something that you'll never have even if you try. -starting to fully regain control of her body-

    Well now, it seems that you've taken back control of your body. But that doesn't mean that it's over, little Yuu. I'll be waiting until you slip up again and yet I can have my full fun with you and the others of your realm. -grinning as she fades from Yuu's mind-

    Damn it! -slamming her fist with all her might onto the glass table, shattering the glass and injuring herself- I better find a way to prevent 'Yuzkin' from getting into this realm with the other 2Ps'. But I'm gonna need some help.


    Both may look the same in body composure and hair color, but the differences were of eye color, clothing and facial scaring. Yuzkin has longer whitish-silver hair, her right eye is crystal blue and her left eye is red, Gothic steam punk clothing, and a scar on her neck. Yuzkin could now do whatever she wants through the eyes of Yuu, but she would rather wait when she had a better opportune moment to mess with her even more if and when someone would show the way into the 1P realm.

    I guess I've had enough fun messing with her, but if she keeps on doing the opposite of what she does I'll there to take over her mind again. -her dark gaze looking around back in her room in the 2P realm-


    Last edited by † Zane † Edelstein † on July 17th 2012, 9:55 pm; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : Realized I confused the heck out of myself)
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    Magnus Densen
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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Magnus Densen on July 13th 2012, 8:57 am



    Cheery, bright, loud and eye-catching; opposite to the dull and gloomy neighbourhood houses of the fellow countries, the manor in which the Brit lived was a joyful and welcoming home at first glance that reflected her personality well much to everyone's disapproval hence making Alice an outcast. It was rather sad that she couldn't relate to anyone; it pushed her towards the peaks of insanity. The need to communicate and have friends was the primary reason for her madness and with just a little bit of imagination, she was able to create her own friends: imaginary creatures that belonged to the supernatural. The 2P's friends would escape from her own dimension each time her 1P was feeling down and lonely. She was the madness that haunted Rose... Come to think of it, Rose would've fitted much better in that world.

    "❀ What are the people on the other side like? ❀", Alice inquired casually as she mixed the frosting in a pink bowl with a wooden spoon. Her voice, always cheery and melodic bore a tint of melancholy today which was quite unusual considering the fact that she rarely showed any other emotion besides joy. The winged rabbit would fly past her and halt at her side in mid air flapping its little wings. "They seem to be nice people", the squeaky voice of the rabbit echoed. Her arm had gotten sore and tired from the mixing, so she brushed the remaining frosting out of the spoon with her index finger and tossed it into the round vessel. "❀ Really now? It's just that, I've been wondering what it would be like if I had more friends. Do you think that if I lived there, they would accept me for who I am? ❀" She licked the icing off of her finger then sucked the finger inside of her mouth to clean it with her tongue. The bunny jumped in mid air excitingly as it cheerfully nodded. "Most likely, yes."

    Alice was oblivious to the other dimension for she never actually left the realm. Rose's stubborn personality didn't allow her to fully take over not even once, so she knew of the other world from her pet friends."❀ Tell me, what do I look like there? ❀" This player had russet brown hair and eyes that shone brilliantly blue. The rabbit sighed and landed on the table by the flour. "She looks like you, except she has blonde hair, green eyes and wears glasses." Alice smirked a bit to herself and skipped towards a nearby mirror. "❀ Do I look goo~ood with blonde hair? ❀", she asked, striking a pose in front of the mirror having a hand at the back of her head and the other on her hip. Flying-Mint-Bunny flew towards her and nodded its little head. "You do." Giggling brightly, she leaned in to the mirror and placed the tip of her fingers upon the glass. "❀ I wish I saw what that realm looked like. It's not bloody fair! Everyone saw it, except me! ❀", she whined. Truth was that she knew what it looked like for her 'friends' were the figment of her own imagination, but the girl went bonkers long time ago.

    'Ping!'

    Was the noise made by her oven. Her cupcakes were ready to be decorated and served. "The cupcakes are ready!", cheered FMB. Alice usually scurried towards the oven to pick out her sweets, but she didn't move one inch as if she was frozen or glued to the glass. The bunny looked at her concerned and muttered her name quizzically. "Alice?"

    "❀ It's warm. ❀", muttered the player.


    Rose removed her fingers from the glass and muttered a quiet "Hmm". Shaking her head to snap out of her daze, she cleared her throat and walked out of the room. That mirror sent weird vibes... she could've sworn it was... warm.



     
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    Arthur Kirkland

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Arthur Kirkland on July 15th 2012, 3:29 am

    Oliver picked up his pace as he was trecking through the landscape that was the realm he lived in. Dressed in light pink spread-collar shirt with a purple vest over it and a cyan colored bow, he was one of the 2P players that dressedin bright colors. He actually wanted to bring color, any other color than the crimson red, into the world he lived in. Sure, crimson red was an acceptable color, but seeing so much made him sick,not sick in health, but sick in his mind. He kept the little sanity, if one could call it that, by avoiding any activities that involved him getting blood on his hands or anywhere near him for that matter. Such was teh reason why he walked quickly through the landcape towards the 2P French Player.

    He grinned to himself as he clutched the small box in his hands protectively. He had baked one of his 'special' cupcakes that he enjoyed so much. When Oliver usually got to baking for others, he would mix in poison, such as small doses of arsenic, into the frosting and batter. Most players thought he was strange for this love of baking and handing out the goods. What they didn't know washe did this for his own entertainment. He absolutely enjoyed the way his victims would writher in pain or begin to vomit blood. It was so exhilarting to watch them take the first bite, to their facial espressions all the way up to the way the bodies reacted to the poison. This was how he kept his bloodlust level to a minimum; watching his innocent looking gestures turn into horrendous acts just for kicks.

    Up ahead, he could see the Frenchman sitting back on his porch. He hid the brightly decorated box behind his bach as he approached the steps that led up to the porch. "Hello~ I have a suprise for you~" Oliver said in an overly cheery tone that dripped with sugar and poison.



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    Francis Bonnefoy

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Francis Bonnefoy on July 15th 2012, 1:55 pm


    At the sound of the annoyingly familiar voice, Jacques's smirk faded. He groaned slightly, sitting up in a slouching position, dull blue gaze glaring toward the brightly-dressed Player in front of him. Crap. It's him. The sight of Oliver alone irritated the French Player; he was so happy, so cheerful...it was disgusting. The British 2P seemed out of place to the Frenchman, especially in this barren, dark dimension...though of course, Jacques wasn't one to underestimate Oliver. While the Player's behavior annoyed Jacques greatly, it was something to be wary about. Some cheerful in this hell of a place would surely be utterly and completely mad, which was never a good sign among the 2Ps.


    At the mention of a surprise, Jacques glared slightly at Oliver, looking as though he was ready to smack that smile off the Brit's face. "I hate surprises." The Frenchman growled out sourly, and lit up another cigarette, eyeing the Brit in annoyance. He was rarely intimidated by any of the Players here, though there was something about Oliver that always set the Frenchman on edge.


    Someone as cheerful as Oliver usually was quite a bad sign, and Jacques was aware of the Brit's reputation with his strange love for baking, not that he meddled in Oliver's business often. Like most of the 2Ps, Jacques kept to himself most of the time, being such a lazy bum in this dimension, not that he cared what others thought of him. One of the few reasons why he never often kept up with his appearance, or even cleaned his house one in a while. He just didn't care. Oliver was one of the few Players that got quite under the Frenchman's skin, though Jacques might not be lying if he claimed he hated Oliver. He hated just about everyone anyway.


    Glancing toward the cheery Brit, Jacques muttered a few vulgarities under his breath, blowing out a ring of smoke into Oliver's face. "Ugh..make it quick. What is it?" The Frenchman slumped against the wall, sighing in exasperation, and running hand through his ruffled, shaggy hair. Jacques couldn't help but have quite a bad feeling about Oliver's little 'surprise'.


    Last edited by Francis Bonnefoy on August 24th 2014, 2:01 pm; edited 2 times in total
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    Alfred F. Jones

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Alfred F. Jones on July 15th 2012, 2:03 pm



    A hunched figure made its way up a cobblestone path, the eerie sound of metal scraping against stone following behind it. The figure was the infamous 2P of Alfred F. Jones. Jonsey, this player preferred to be called. He purposely misspelled it to be different from that moron-of-a-man who dared to look the same as him. It was true. The First Players of the real world had come first and the Second Players had come...well, second, but Jonsey didn't like to get technical. He liked to blame Alfred for anything and everything. If it was too hot outside, it was Alfred's fault. If Jonsey was hungry and there was nothing to eat, it was Alfred's fault. And if Jonsey suddenly had the urge to kill, it was Alfre-...so, maybe it wasn't always Alfred's fault if the urge to kill ever surfaced, because a lot of people managed to piss Jonsey off. He'd give you a list in alphabetical order, but it would be a waste of time when he could simply say, "Everyone pisses me off."

    Jonsey looked nearly the same as his First Player. Actually, all the Second Players bore resemblance to their First Players - they only differed in color scheme and the level of madness raging within them. Jonsey raked a gloved hand through his mocha-colored hair, cursing beneath his breath when the signature piece would not stand down. Nantucket, Alfred called it. Fucking-stupid-piece-of-hair, what Jonsey called it. The cerulean gaze Alfred possessed was crimson for Jonsey and he preferred it that way. His outfit was nearly the same, but darker; however, a huge different between him and his First Player was the fact Jonsey decided to carry a bat around. The bat was lined with ragged nails. If he chose to smash the bat into someone's face, something he did often, the nails could tear into their flash. The American was getting giddy with just the thought of pounding someone's face in with his bat.

    Who better to meet his bat than Ivee-poo?

    This sudden thought had gotten Jonsey to straighten his posture. He lifted the bat from the ground and placed it over his shoulders, ending the ridiculous scraping sounds. He smirked, turning in the direction of the Russian's manor. Jonsey figured he liked messing with Vanya the most, because Alfred spent a great deal of time with Ivan. As allies. Allies?! Jonsey wanted to laugh at that. No one could ever get Vanya and Jonsey to agree on something, nor could they get them to behave properly. They were immature whenever they were in the same room, always throwing something across the room whenever the others would turn around. Whether it be a paper weight coming from Jonsey's end or an empty bottle of vodka coming from Vanya's.

    Jonsey flashed a pearl-white smile, but his teeth were nearly ragged. He was thankful he had found something to do. Jonsey was so carefree - he never worried about things. Alfred was busy with worrying about world affairs and defending his country. The only worries Jonsey ever had were if he had food and if he had his bat. He loved his bat very much.

    Upon arriving at Vanya's manor, Jonsey twirled his bat a couple of times, whistling a bone-chilling tune. He was behaving as if it were natural for him to be coming here - as if he and Vanya were best friends. Second Players were some times crude, egotistical, selfish...yes, all of those described Jonsey very well. Without a single care in the world, he slammed himself into the front door, forcing the door to swing open and allow his entrance. He refrained from say something sacrastic, like, "Honey, I'm hooommme!" He didn't want to waste his efforts when he wouldn't even be able to see Vanya's reaction. Instead, he stepped...or rather, frolicked into one of the main rooms and plopped down on Vanya's couch. Where was the Russian? Did he even hear that someone had broken into his home? Oh well.

    Jonsey sat his bat down on a coffee table, but averted his gaze to a nearly empty bottle of vodka. Vanya left these everywhere, didn't he? Whether they were full or not. Jonsey scooped this one up and took a swig without permission, getting his boots off and finding a comfortable position on the couch. Ah, he could do this all day. He was sort of hoping Vanya would round the corner with a look of outrage. Jonsey wanted to see that stupid face. It would be an excuse to see Vanya.



    Spock . 20 . Guardian
    Main: Alfred F. Jones (2P!America).
    Others: Julchen Beilschmidt, Viktor Braginski.
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    Ivan Braginski

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Ivan Braginski on July 15th 2012, 4:51 pm

    Once the door to the manor was brought down, a black crow burst out right past Jonsey's head with several harsh caws and fluttered away.

    The Soviet manor of the 2P realm was a little bit smaller than the mansion of the 'normal world,' and had the air of an abandoned mansion you would see only in horror movies. There wasn't a single light on for one; a lot of the windows and furniture was shattered; no doubt work of Vanya's aggressive tantrums with his water pipe. Black raven feathers, bits of broken glass and splintered wood, vodka bottles, and overturned furniture littered the ground of the massive interior, and cobwebs were seen hanging in the corners. Knives, daggers, meat cleavers, axes, needles, and even pens were embedded in the walls from Vanya’s own form of amusement, giving the area overall, quite a haunting, forbidding appearance.

    A small movement shuffled on the corner of the main room, giving away several ink-black ravens that sat perched on the hilts of thrown knives on the wall. They stared at the second player with their beady onyx eyes, giving raspy little croaking noises every now and then

    . Ravens were one of the only forms of life in the 2P world, and they tended to take refuge in Vanya's manor since no one had bothered to patch the broken windows.

    As Jonsey sat himself down on Vanya's couch, one of the black birds began shuffling uneasily on its taloned feet, upsetting the neighboring ravens and resulting one of them to flap into the air and land on another hilt on the opposite wall. The loner puffed out his throat feathers and croaked out several loud caws, stimulating several other black birds to raise their harsh, cawing voices in an upsetting chorus that rang shrilly out through the vast, empty space of Vanya's manor

    Where was that damned Russian anyways..?

    Vanya was still upstairs, slouched on top of his desk with his face buried in his lazily folded arms. It was more than likely that the Player had passed out from the excess alcohol intake, or he had just fallen asleep due to the boredom.

    The bang of the door being knocked in had jolted him out of his slumber, yet the Russian just gave an irritated mutter and closed his eyes again, not really caring about what it might have been at the moment. He must have been imagining it... or maybe one of the ravens just missed the window and rammed into the wall or so---

    Caw, caw, caw, caw.....

    Vanya gritted his teeth together and buried his face lazily into the crooks of his folded arms with a tired groan. Those damned ravens.. always so pesky. This had been the first time in a while that Vanya had actually had the will to sleep, he wasn't going to let some birds ruin it. He really had to fix those windows...

    Later...

    But wait... a small frown graced the Russian's brow as he listened to the pattern and shrill volume of the black bird's crowing. Odd.. they usually didn't sound like this unless there was an intrude---

    Bloody red eyes snapped open as a jolt of false, furious energy shot through the Player. Who the fuck was it this time...

    Already having a sneaky suspicion as to who the intruder might be, Vanya suddenly shot up from his desk and began to pace swiftly toward the door of his room, scooping up his water pipe along the way. His pipe was like that bat was to Jonsey; it was Vanya's most prized possession. For good measures, the Russian yanked one of the knives that was stuck in the wall as he was walking down toward where the ruckus was...

    "Jonsey!"

    A knife whistled through the air and collided in with the couch near the Player's head. At the 'thunk' of medal meeting couch, several of the cawing birds shot up into the air with a flurry of flapping wings and took off through the cracked window or toward another room.

    Vanya paced swiftly down the stairs, his bloodshot irises reflecting great outrage.

    "Get d'e fuck out of my house, you syn suki!"

    Without really realizing it, Vanya slipped into his own native tongue. The Russian took hold of a large butcher's knife and yanked it out of the wall; the space between the Russian and American players was shrinking at a dangerous rate...
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    Alfred F. Jones

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Alfred F. Jones on July 15th 2012, 6:30 pm



    The Second Player had to admit, Vanya really needed to get a cleaning lady in here. All this dust, the torn walls, and the turned-over furniture made Jonsey smirk. It was so like Vanya to treat his home this way. Jonsey's place wasn't much better, but it definitely wasn't as bad as this. Jonsey took a moment to imagine Rose's reaction if she ever stepped into a place like this. Little Rose. The American sighed, fawning over the idea of that British lady. She was beautiful, yes, but she was a damn good cook, too. He was fond of her cake, something she baked frequently in her madness. He figured she needed her tea parties and her baking skills to keep her from boiling over the edge, but he had to admit, it would be nice to see her snap. He wouldn't mind if it was directed at him either. Jonsey was a twisted man, after all.

    The American took another swig of the vodka, a few drops of the alcohol running down his chin. He lazily swiped the back of his hand across his chin, ridding it of the alcohol. He released a content sigh as he settled against the couch comfortably, despite how dark and dirty this place was. Hell, when the American had plopped on it, dust flew up everywhere. He was suddenly considering ordering someone to clean for the stupid Russian, but Jonsey wasn't kind. If he did that, it would be doing something for the Russian...and doing something personal for Vanya was the last thing on his mind. With the vodka bottle leaning neatly against his chest, he bent one knee and let his other leg stretch out as he debated letting himself sleep here. He was beginning to drown out the cawing of the birds in order to sleep, but the faint thudding of boots against the wooden-floor kept him well awake. Finally, the Russian had given enough care to see who had entered his home...

    Now, Jonsey had to wonder if he should put on a show for the Russian. He could blame his behavior on the vodka, but why bother? Jonsey was crazy. It is normal for him to act strange, drunk or not. He nearly smiled when the Russian screeched his name and with that, he turned his head on the couch just in time to see the blade coming his way. He didn't flinch, or bother moving, because it seemed Vanya had purposely missed. It was just a warning. With slow and delicate movements, the American bent his knee so that it no longer blocked his vision of Vanya from where he lay. He even turned to glance at the knife, reaching his pale and slender fingers up to touch it. "That wasn't very nice," He answered, completely dismissing the fact Vanya had told him to leave. He was referring to the knife that had been thrown at him. "Vannnnyaaaa," He whined, dragging his name out. He took a third swig of the vodka, tongue tracing the rim of the bottle he was sure Vanya's lips had previously touched and with that thought, he shifted his gaze to the Russian while he did it. His gaze was nearly half-lidded as he attempted getting underneath Vanya's skin more than he already had.

    When he was finished with the drink, he let the bottle drop to the floor. "You shouldn't be so rude to those who are far superior than you..." Jonsey commented with a dark look, fingers curling around the knife. In a flash of movement, he had ripped it from the couch and flung it back at Vanya.



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    Eireann Ó'Reilly
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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Eireann Ó'Reilly on July 16th 2012, 12:01 am


    "Disgusting.. Weak.. Pitiful.. Annoying... That damned DISGRACE!!" The sound of shattering glass followed the growl of a certain female Canadian; one of her many empty picture frames now lying broken on the floor where it had hit the wall. Her breath came in angered huffs as she paced in witness to a single floor length mirror - a mirror from which she could view her worldly counterpart. She watched in cruel bloodthirst, her hands screaming to snap the frail neck of the gentle blonde she called her 'Player One', Marguerite Williams. The girl was much too kind and quiet to deserve any sympathy from the sinister and uncaring Player Two. Marguerite was always smiling despite the loneliness she was made to suffer every day. Why didn't she retaliate? Why not make herself known - prove to the world that she is the one and only Great Canadian Nation? The country the two females had in common was unique, and on top of that, only Russia could possibly be superior to them!

    A spine-chilling roar brought the Canadian's pacing to an abrupt stop. She turned swiftly on her heels, giving a crooked grin when she saw her faithful polar bear pet towering on two legs above her. She lifted a gloved hand to the patchy fur on the bear's neck, stroking it softly. "Ah, Jira~ I apologize. Meggie was getting on my nerves again. You know how I get when I'm angry." Although accompanied with a feminine laugh, the Canadian's voice dripped with verbal poison. It was a tone the bear knew well. Grunting in response, the fierce creature dropped onto its bottom with a loud 'thud', allowing its master to continue the affection of its scarred body.

    "Madeline Williams - The one and only nation of Canada.." Her dulled indigo eyes blazed in pride at the sound of her name. "Tell me Jira, does that not sound soooooo much better to you?" She cooed at the bear, a few strands of her long red-brown hair slipping over her shoulder as she leaned in closer to its blackened snout. Jira nodded slowly, her pearly black eyes gleaming in full understanding of Maddie's intentions. But Maddie wasn't yet ready to extract her counterpart from her world. First, she had to find someone to do it with. In her mind, there was no point in starting a revolution if she couldn't keep it going, and she knew the perfect revolutionary to join up with.

    A sinister smirk arose from Maddie's lips as she fixed her posture, leading her pet to do the same. "Let's go pay brother Jonsey a little visit~"

    Maddie strode through the halls of her cabin home, Jira crawling along on all fours behind her. As the great beast walked, her sharpened onyx claws tore new gashes in the wooded floor, which was already considerably marked up in the same manner. But in addition to the sad state of the flooring, the dark wooden walls had been busted and broken in various places with the occasional shard of glass embedded within the once smooth architecture. It was a feared place surrounded by an aura of drowning unwelcome feeling, very similar to the aura given off by the owner herself.

    Unlike the cheerful and kind personality of Meg, Maddie was cold-hearted and cruel. She didn't care for anyone or anything besides her dearest Jira. She was selfish in her desires, willing to sacrifice any living or non-living thing in her way. She was going to make a name for herself whether the other nations liked it or not. She refused to be invisible. She would make anyone who disregarded her appearance suffer for it in the most grizzly means possible. It wasn't a rare event that Maddie commanded her polar bear to maul her victims to death, and if it wasn't the bear taking care of the victim, you could be sure Maddie would be the one beating them in with her battered hockey stick.

    Speaking of said hockey stick~: Maddie had nearly forgotten to grab it as she exited into the shadowy domain beyond. Its head now rested upon her shoulder, bandaged tightly in the middle to keep it from splintering further while she had her fun. She was as attached to her hockey stick as Jonsey was to his bat. You always had to have two and two together when it came to the North American siblings. Unfortunately for Jonsey, Maddie wasn't very fond of him. It was a sort of subconscious reaction to the way Alfred overshadowed Marguerite and Matthew. She payed little attention to the American Player Two, sometimes even acting as though he didn't exist just to piss him off. The fact that she intended to have him accompany her in taking over the Player Ones was quite astounding.

    It took Maddie only a brief walk to reach her brother's home, letting herself in the moment she arrived there. A slash from Jira's claws was more than enough to bust through the lock. Her high-heeled leather boots clomped across the floor as she wandered around searching for any signs of life in the building. "Jonsey~!! Where are youuuuu?" An annoyed look developed upon the Canadian's face when she realized that the single person she had be looking for had disappeared from his abode. She began to pace again, this time beside one of her brother's windows.

    Now where could he have gone...? She gripped her chin in thought, her opposite hand tapping her hockey stick repeatedly against her shoulder. Then, from the corner of her eye, Maddie happened to catch a glimpse of hunched figure making its way across the cobblestone path that lined the earth outside. It could have been anyone really, but the nail-littered bat being dragged along with the figure told the Canadian otherwise. A twisted grin rose on her face. She couldn't wait to see Jonsey's expression when she popped out nowhere to land a striking blow to his back with her beloved tool of destruction.

    As such, the Player Two started her stealthy trailing of the American, her slim form slipping in and out of the shadows in baleful quiescence. Never once did she stop to consider the target location of her brother's journey - a place she should have suspected of him... the home of Vanya Braginski, in her mind, the one and only threat to her power. A hiss rose in her throat as she crouched outside one of the broken windows in the Russian's manor, waiting patiently for her perfect opportunity to join in. If she was lucky, Jonsey would rid the universe of Vanya's presence for her...but then again...wouldn't that put Jonsey above her? Oh. No. She would NOT let that happen.

    Signaling to Jira to keep hidden outside the manor, Maddie made her way to the broken entry, one hand gripping tightly to her hockey stick and the other to a pistol inside a holder attached to the belt of her uniform. The instant Jonsey flung Vanya's knife was the same instant Maddie fired her shot, redirecting the knife past Vanya's head and into the stairs behind him, shredding a few strands of his hair in the process. Whilst returning her gun to its holster, Maddie's expression grew grave, apathy replacing her previous flow of emotion. Nothing but void reflected in her hazy indigo eyes. Her head cocked slightly to the side, an atmosphere like poison overcoming her being.

    "Vanya.. Jonsey.. It's been awhile."




    The Absent Overlord.
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    Ivan Braginski

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Ivan Braginski on July 16th 2012, 11:29 pm

    Very crappy reply, I'll edit later. I'm tired..




    "Superior my ass." The Russian growled through clenched jaws. It really didn't take much to get under the Russian Player's skin. He knew his dramatic reactions were the reason why Jonsey kept returning to bother him, but... he didn't bother to change it.

    It wasn't as though Vanya enjoyed being aggravated by the other Player, but the constant bickering at least gave him and Jonsey alike something to do for passtime. They never really hurt each other that bad in their childish fits of quarreling; just a few gashes and bruises here, maybe a broken bone there... but nothing too serious. They always returned to bother each other a day or two later.

    Vanya would never admit it, but he wasn't sure what he'll spend his time doing if he and Jonsey left each other alone.

    The red-headded Player rose his knife to deflect the oncoming blow, when a startling shot averted his attention elsewhere. Out of sheer instinct, he flinched his head to the side a bit as the bullet hit the knife that the American player pitched. A swear slipped past his parted lips as he felt the blade shred past a few strands of his bloody red hair. He shot a blazing glare toward the window where the Canadian was, yet blinked once.

    "Jonsey brought leetle sestra for back-up, da?" The Russian sneered. "Pathetic..."

    After casting a brief glance toward the knife embedded into the stares, Vanya allowed a faint hissing exhale to slip past his teeth.

    "Yes. Et has." The Russian replied. His tone was a slight bit quieter than before, yet still as hard as usual.

    "Now tell your stupid leetle brat to get out before he hangs on a wall."
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    Luka Bondevik

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Luka Bondevik on July 17th 2012, 12:21 am


    Yuzkin smirked as she had her little fun with Yuu, but now wasn't the time to worry about it. She was just curious to see if the other 2Ps' were up to and see which one of them was willing enough to spare with her. Just trying by herself wasn't enough, she wanted to get more of a challenge out of someone who could show her a good time, even if it meant losing, but she wouldn't go down so easily. Yet she couldn't figure out that she was missing out on something, but what she didn't know who or what.

    I wonder what the others are doing? I want to have some fun with them as well. -smirking at the thought of the idea-

    Yuzkin enjoys doing dangerous stuff out of all things, but the one thing that she will always remember is how Yuu gave her that mark on her neck. She knew that Yuu was the strongest and that nothing would faze her, but as time went on she started to lose grip on Yuzkin and which resulted in Yuu losing her mind and stabbing Yuzkin right into her neck, just barely missing damaging her throat. At least Yuzkin knew that Yuu was capable of hurting someone when she would lose her mind or perhaps when she's at her lowest point.

    -stroking her scar- At least I got something out of Yuu when she gave me this scar. But I still want to have a challenge from someone.

    Nothing would be better if she at least had a fight and show off her sword skills. And yet she didn't know who to challenge ans yet it was a great chill to find out who. Yuzkin walks out of her house and notices a lot of 'non weird' things in the 2P realm and seeing the other 2Ps' going at it.

    -walking around to see whose around- Hehehe. I love seeing the idiots and morons going at it for no reason. This realm at times never ceases to amaze me, especially the fights.












    The 2P Austrian idly wasted his time thinking what to do next, but couldn't think of anything. Zane was nothing like his 1P self in looks and in taste for things, but not matter how you looked at it he was still 2P Austria. He had more of a pale complexion, raven black hair that was combed back with a few loose strands, golden yellow eyes, wore shades instead of glasses as to not be confused as his 1P self, and like to listen to metal music instead of classic music. Zane was much more open, a flirt, a thrill goer, has little patience for those who wasted his time for no reason, makes fun of others and times likes to be made fun of and was well less of a uptight ass than his 1P self. Though one thing kept on pondering the 2P and that was of the 1P realm.

    I wonder what the 1P realm is like? Is it thrillin'? Is it borin'? I wonder if there are any cute girls there that I can flirt with~ -still wondering at the thought of the cute girls-

    Looking around to see whose around and have a nice chat, but it seems that the others are busy doing their own things, but Zane didn't care he would just jump in and have some fun for the time being. He could at least enjoy watching what the French and British 2Ps' were up to, but wanted to have some fun of his own.

    Man~ I want to have some fun, but I can't quite find someone to have fun with. -throws his arms in the air and yells- Why isn't there anyone whose willing to have some fun around here! Guess, I'll have to find some other way to have fun.

    Not matter how far and wide he looked Zane couldn't find anyone to have fun with so he just gave up and remembered of the cute girls that he was going to meet in the 1P realm. Besides the cute girls, he just wanted to have something to do, but then it struck him about one person who could at least have some fun, but could be quite a challenge.

    Yuzkin seems to be a likely choice to have fun with, but I gotta watch out not to piss her too much or she'll have my head for sure. Either way it's better than having nothing to do, I could really lose it. -nodding-


    Last edited by † Zane † Edelstein † on July 17th 2012, 9:51 pm; edited 3 times in total

    Fish

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Fish on July 17th 2012, 8:57 pm

    f
    A great lengh of time ago without any rhyme or reason, Gilbert's passion, fears, daunting insanity--all that he had stowed away into his subconscience had manifested itself into a being. Everything that Gilbert wasn't and wanted to be formed into a separate persona he became gradually aware of. It appeared in times of great despair, taking on a similar likeness to himself, anc came and went like an apparition: silent and subtle. No one else saw the so called spectre, dismissing it off as a figment of Gilbert's dwindling sanity, but he and England, the only one who believed, knew better than that. The spectre was kind, very quick to comfort with its prescence and had the willingess to help. which was appropriately coupled with patience, tolerance, and above all, genuine friendship. Obediantly, it attentively listened to Gilbert's spouting and orders without complaint. In fact, it never spoke at all, giving Gilbert reason to believe that it was a mute. Stoic, silent compliance was all it offered, and in return, Gilbert gave equal parts of awe and admiration.

    It's manner of dress was astounding but no less uncomfortable, coming clad in golden armor, the jet black cross of the Teutonic Order emblazoned on white cloth. It's attire exuded nostalgia and archaic flair, all of which, effectively stirred up the dust of his golden years...and he was reminded of where he came from and who he once was. It nearly brought tears to his eyes. Nearly.

    He first called the specter his conscience, then his companion, which then as the years progressed, steadily advanced towards trustworthy friend and confidential...but this alone did not suit him.
    Gilbert eventually christened it with the holiest of holies, the most sacred of titles:

    Freiderick 'Fritz' Beilschmidt, his brother.




    ѦѪѦѪѦѪ


    Dull and lifeless eyes gazed up into an equally dull and lifeless sky, wearing a mask of complete neutrality, neither manic nor jubilent. He sat perched leisurely in a low-hanging branch of a decaying tree, removed from the civilization of his bleak realm...but they were anything but civilized. Bloodthirsty and ravenous lost creatures to the core! Though he wasn't assuming he was any less demented than the rest of them, oh God no, he was just as susceptible to breaking like everyone else, and moreso that he carried the heavy burden of insanity, depression, and belligerence, and living amongst "colleagues" where the crazy practically radiated off of them only acted as a catalyst. But he was positive that he was the sole individual who knew how to control his impulses and keep the anger at bay.


    Freiderick lept off of his perch, landing on the ground with a dull thud and took in his surroundings. He could feel a sudden tension in the air; everyone was growing restless, tired of being confined as a prisoner within a dying Wonderland . Granted that their habitat was generally desolate and bland, Fritz never could understand why anyone would want to leave. The grey unchanging landscape was the perfect environment for a raving lunatic. Repetition left no room for surprise and ultimately fear, the center stage for all madness. Leading a peaceful existence without struggle was relaxing and simple thinking was enlightening. To be neutral was to be calm...to never fight back or to seek out conflict. To give everything and expect nothing. These were the standards Freiderick strictly followed that rivaled the religious zeal of an aesthetic monk. He faced everything and everyone with willing compliance or coy interaction and by doing so, created a stress-free environment for himself.

    While Freiderick became preoccupied with his thoughts, he unintentionally made a slow beeline towards the neighborhood of his colleagues, and by the time he realized he had wandered into the lions' den, it was too late. He glanced wearily at the various houses, entertaining himself by deciding which dwelling-space belonged to the most hysterical individual...or were they all so derranged that there couldn't possibly be a reigning champion amongst them? Freiderick took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. The last time he went over the edge nearly cost him his life (and Gilbert's sanity); he was lucky enough to get away with the scar on his cheek.

    Fritz was lost within a maze of houses and streets, and panic was bubbling up inside him, but his expression was blank. He turned about once more and in a once-in-a-lifetime situation that would stun God himself, he spoke.

    "....Hello? Is anybody here?" His soft voice echoed loudly, making Freiderick wince at the volume.

    He was hoping no one would answer.


    Last edited by Admiral Beilschmidt on July 22nd 2012, 3:52 pm; edited 1 time in total



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    Eireann Ó'Reilly
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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Eireann Ó'Reilly on July 17th 2012, 9:43 pm


    "....Hello? Is anybody here?"

    The quiet echo of Fritz voice had come like a thunderbolt to poor little Slaney Kirkland's ears. The Player Two of Eireann Kirkland was fragile, shy, and paranoid to the world around her. She feared the shedding of blood fiercely, as was to be expected of the counterpart to a fight-seeking Celtic warrior, but her deepest secret remained the fact that Slaney herself was the concrete form of Eireann's madness. She hid it well, but in times of chaos in the shadowy land she called home, Slaney was known to spill countless pools of blood - a harsh reality she had no control over. It was her tears and her solitary confinement within her own abode that kept her..moderately sane.

    It was in such the dark corner of her home that Slaney had been crouched in when she heard the Prussia Player Two from outside her broken window. Rising shakily to her feet, she crept over to the windowsill, two hazy cyan eyes peering out in curious anxiety. The foggy orbs widened upon catching the form of another being within their gaze only a few feet from where she spied on him. Normally, Slaney did her best to avoid all living contact, save for that of her siblings Oliver and Alice, whom she was abnormally attached too, but today, she was feeling especially worried. The building tension had struck something within her. She figured a little company might do her well to keep from becoming a maniacal blood-thirsty monster.

    Slowly and silently, the dark brunette made her way to her door, opening it only a few inches before daring to reveal her entire self. It was best she spoke gently and avoided spooking the stranger. Stress was the last thing she needed. Heck, he could be a complete psychopath and she would never have known until it was too late! For once, she would have to take a leap of faith, although a very limited one.

    "W-well...I-i suppose so... That is..if you would call someone like myself an anybody..." Slaney's voice rang out like nothing more than the squeak of a mouse. It was just as petite and wary as herself. For those few seconds, she wondered if he could even hear such a tiny voice like hers...




    The Absent Overlord.
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    Ivana Braginska
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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Ivana Braginska on July 17th 2012, 9:55 pm

    I haven't even joined! D: I have to post. I'll make and add a template later.
    ___________________________________________________________

    S - T - A - R- T - E - R -

    The Russian female sat on her bed. She had a feeling that something was off about the other nations. Suddenly she heard a voice in her head. It was a dark female voice and Ivana covered her ears to avoid hearing it. It got louder and soon Ivana could hear what the voice was saying. ☠ You can't stop us... we are taking over.☠

    "Shut up!" Ivana hissed at her other self. Anya simply laughed at torturing her 1P self. Ivana could feel herself losing her vision. Anya was taking control... and the female Russian couldn't control her any longer. She fell to the ground unconscious. When she awoke, her eyes were blood red, her skin paler and her hair was snow white.

    Anya grinned to herself and took her shovel. ☠ Time to play, da?"☠

    ☠ Time to see ef anyone else wants to play...


    _________
    Meh. Crappy intro but bleh. I'm in though.



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    Alfred F. Jones

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Alfred F. Jones on July 19th 2012, 5:53 pm

    Crappy reply is crappy. I apologize...
    I am just brain dead.





    This was interesting. Jonsey hadn't expected his sister to follow him here. He really couldn't say he was happy to see her either, but he wasn't ever happy to see anyone. And let's face it, he was a horrible brother. He rolled his eyes, turning himself toward the inside of the couch and curling there. The couch reaked and yet, it wasn't enough to get him to move. He hadn't bothered to voice his greeting to his sister and instead, waved his hand. Vanya, however, managed to get him to grind his teeth with bitterness.

    "I didn't invite her. She followed me here, like any annoying sibling ought to." He snapped without facing them both.

    He fixed his shaded glasses before he closed his eyes, as if he was actually going to try and nap here. Oh well. He was sort of hoping one of them wouldn't allow him to, so he could smash their face in with his nailed bat.

    "You'd miss me if I were ever gone, Vanya, and you know it." He mumbled as he prepared to nap.



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    Eireann Ó'Reilly
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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Eireann Ó'Reilly on July 20th 2012, 6:19 pm


    Maddie smirked at the Russian, entering his abode without a second's hesitation. She couldn't suppress a sinister chuckle as she walked up behind the couch Jonsey was preparing to nap on. She glanced down at her brother and then back to the Russian who had been glaring at her so threateningly. "Sorry, but I am afraid you are both wrong. I didn't follow Jonsey here, nor did I come as his back up. Why would you even think I'd come to the aid of such a weakling brother like him?" She scoffed. "I came of my own will - originally because there was something I had to discuss with my brother, but...I think you might just be interested in what I have to say as well, Braginski.."

    The Canadian sat herself down beside her American brother, crossing her legs in a very business-like fashion. Her violet eyes brewed with a new mischievous light, accompanied by the malevolent form of her polar bear, who was now lying down underneath her legs, one beady black eye watching for any move against her or her master. Maddie stroked her hand across the bear's head, her cold voice mixed with a more inviting tone.

    "Do come and listen Vanya~ I don't think you'll be disappointed in what I have to suggest."




    The Absent Overlord.
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    Antonio F. Carriedo

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Antonio F. Carriedo on July 20th 2012, 10:22 pm



    Andres had the urge that something big was about to go down. He could only do one thing and one thing only; and that was to follow his gut, like always. First off he had hope to catch up Freiderick and tell him of what he had felt. He was the only one who wouldn't insult him and tell him that he was losing his mind.

    The Second Player, had gotten out of his house and made his way over to his car of choice a black ferrari f430 spider, on the top of the hood of the car was the Spanish coat of arms. He had always loved his coat of arms due to the fact that it had always remind him of the times when he took over Antonio's mine and had control of a thousand men, how he yearn for those days.

    The Ferrari's engine spited to life as Antonio had started the engine and was waiting for his 'baby' to purr for him. A few minutes pass as the car burst into an empty freeway, the noise of the car can be heard from miles away. The day before Freiderick had told him that he was about to pay Slaney a visit and that he should join them for lunch. Andres figured that those two were the only ones that would listen to what he had to say.

    A half an hour later, Andres had stopped in front of Slaney's home. He peeped the car horn, as to let them no that he had arrived and was on his way. "Damn it! I forget how much of a maze this place was. Idiota." Andres cussed to himself as he tried to make his way around the house, "Hola, anyone here?" Unlike Antonio's voice his was monotone and lifeless.





    The Lonely Emperor
    Memo. 19. Male.
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    Arthur Kirkland

    Posts : 107
    Join date : 2012-03-17

    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Arthur Kirkland on July 21st 2012, 12:59 am

    Oliver's eye twitched slightly, annoyed at the fact that the other blew smoke into his face. Some people just don't have manners and that was just quite sad. "Well, here. See for yourself!" He said, shoving the small colorful box into the Frenchman's hands as kept that cheery grin on his face. "Something to brighten you day~" He added, taking a few steps up to be at the same eye level. "I hope you trully enjoy my gift to you~" Were his last parting words before he stepped down from the porch steps to walk back to his home.

    The young male would have stayed, but he didn't like leaving his sibling at home for too long alone. Most of the other players were ruthless killers and took advantage of anyone who showed their weakness. He knew deep down that she was just as bad at the others but his natural cheery persona but that truth deep in the vault of his mind. He liked to think of her as a kind one, not like everyone else in this wrwtched world. Oliver sighed, fixing his cyan bow and picking up his pace. If only he could have watched the Frenchman's reaction to his confectionary delight..Oh well. Their's always tomorrow~



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    Francis Bonnefoy

    Posts : 169
    Join date : 2012-03-31

    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Francis Bonnefoy on July 21st 2012, 10:32 am


    Jacques raised an eyebrow once the cheerful Brit handed the box to him, although he thankfully, didn't take notice of Oliver's slightly twitching eye. The colorful wrapping alone of the box just made the Frenchman rather disgusted, though it would be what was in the box that should have made him just as disgusted. "Eh...thanks, whatever.." The French Player muttered gruffly, narrowing his eyes in slight suspicion a bit as the Brit walked off. Jacques scoffed softly as he put out his cigarette and began to unwrap the colorful box-though, what was inside didn't exactly surprise him.

    "Typical.." A sneer curled at the Frenchman's lips as he laid eyes on the colorfully-decorated cupcake in the box; it seemed as though the Brit's reputation for baking was never taken lightly, Jacques figured. Surely, he should have been more supsicious than this? The Frenchman took out the cupcake, looking at it for a moment; he wasn't one for sweets, though he didn't exactly hate them. Unfortunately, with an absentminded shrug, Jacques lay back against his door, taking a bite of the cupcake.

    Heh, not bad, even for him. Thought the Frenchman gruffly, rolling his eyes as he wiped a bit of frosting off his lips with his sleeve, then took another bite of the cupcake. Although..after a moment or two, Jacques coughed slightly, his chest tightening a bit. Damn cigarettes. The Frenchman's constant hacking coughs were usually, of course, a result of his smoking addiction; this was the first thought that came to Jacques. But, in this case, he was wrong.

    Jacques scowled, letting out a harsher cough, forcing himself to sit up with an irritable growl. A bit of crimson blood began to drip out of the corner of the Frenchman's lips as he coughed once more, his chest tight. What...oh, damn him. As Jacques opened his mouth to spew out a bit of cussing, he only resulted in a wheeze, followed by a ragged cough as he just barely managed to stagger to his feet, dropping the colorful box and clinging to the railing of his porch for support as his series of hacking coughs began, blood beginning to slowly stream out of his mouth.

    "K-Kirkland!!" The French Player just barely managed to choke out angrilly in an irritable snarl, before gagging a bit on his own blood, chest tight and slightly slackening the Frenchman's breathing. Jacques attempted to cuss out in frustration, only resulting in more coughing as the burning pain set in, making him slightly twitch as he wheezed and coughed, crimson blood streaming from his mouth.

    Being a 2P, of course Jacques couldn't exactly die from the poison-as long as Francis Bonnefoy lived, so would Jacques Bonnefoy. But he could feel pain all the same, yet it irritated the Frenchman nonetheless. He could already imagine that his little 1P counterpart was, at the moment, perhaps annoyingly cheery and flirtarious, while his 2P counterpart was simply suffering. Perhaps the 1Ps had it better than their counterparts...Disgusting. Jacques growled angrilly, his breathing constantly faltering-after this was over, he was confident enough to confront that damn Brit.

    Being poisoned wasn't something the Frenchman would take lightly.
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    Ivan Braginski

    Posts : 245
    Join date : 2012-02-21

    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Ivan Braginski on July 23rd 2012, 5:45 pm

    [Rushed reply. No time for editing atm.]

    "Miss you? Ha!"The Russian spat bitterly in reply to the American player. He was just about to snap a witty retort when the Canadian strode into his house like she was invited here. One of Vanya's bloody red eyes twitched.

    What was this, some sort of damn walk-in festive?!

    This was his /house/ for crying out fucking loud! Vanya gripped his rusted metal water pipe in growing rage until his callosed knuckles were dead white beneath his gloves. He could hardly hear the female's correction above the raging feelings inside him. They were not welcome here.. neither of them. What right did they have to waltze in here un invited... why wasn't he doing anything about it yet?!

    Vanya gave a soft growl and began walking toward the two, determined to get them both out; he didn't care how he had to do it... he just wanted them to leave. His attempts were cut short, however, as the bear walked in after her master...

    Vanya's eyes widened as he froze where he was. To opposite forces collided with each other within the second player, just leaving him frozen where he was. Half of him was more than furious... first the siblings, and now even that damn white flea bag was walking in HIS house without a care in the world. However... Ivan in the real world was quite fond of animals, finding everything with fur the more irrisistable thing in the world. That, of course, left Vanya with an aggravating fear of large animals.

    A muttered string of vile Russian words spilled past his clenched jaws, forcing himself to recompose himself; he simply couldn't and wouldn't allow anyone else to figure out his fear. That... would be bad.

    "Fine." Vanya growled irritably, eyeing the large bear on the ground.

    "Just get d'at damned thing out of my house. Now."
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    Alfred F. Jones

    Posts : 182
    Join date : 2012-03-29

    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Alfred F. Jones on August 8th 2012, 6:30 am


    If only Jonsey knew Vanya was afraid of the bear. It would have given him a good enough reason to sit up and leave the thought of napping behind. Instead, the American Player simply waved his hand - or rather, stopped to flip his sister off before allowing his hand to fall back to his side as he curled more into the couch. He inhaled the dusty scent, noting the smell of vodka lingering there, too.

    When Vanya ordered his sister to get her bear out of his home, he opened his eyes. With an irritated expression, he growled, "Oh, for fuck sake, it is just a bear! Stop yelling. I'm trying to sleep..." Once he finished, the American was back to cuddling with himself, facing the inside of the couch.



    Spock . 20 . Guardian
    Main: Alfred F. Jones (2P!America).
    Others: Julchen Beilschmidt, Viktor Braginski.
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    Eireann Ó'Reilly
    Admin

    Posts : 303
    Join date : 2012-02-14

    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

    Post  Eireann Ó'Reilly on August 10th 2012, 6:06 pm


    "Jonsey is right you know, Vanya. It's just a bear.. Why, by the way you're acting someone could even think you were afraid of such a thing, eh." A sly smirk touched the purr in Maddie's voice as she addressed the Russian. Her hand stroked repeatedly over the bear's ripped and scarred fur, patting it's torn ear with a playful ease. In her head she was shaping an idea - a cruel, curious kind of idea. With a quick snap of Maddie's fingers, the bear rose to its four feet, it's soulless black eyes locked dead onto Vanya's form. Once her pet had risen, she flickered her eyes to her sleeping brother, her smirk ever-present as she took a firm grasp of his fucking-stupid-piece-of-hair, and pulled on it. Hard.

    If nothing else, that was sure to wake Jonsey from his slumber. Normally she wouldn't care of he missed out on watching her fun, but this time, it was different. It wasn't just any second player she wanted to torment, this was Vanya. There was no way she would allow the American to miss out on such an amusing sight.

    "Shall we test that theory?"

    Without further hesitation, Maddie spoke a clear command to her beast. "Jira, rugir." Jira snorted and made a slow approach toward the Russian, eyes unwavering. As she walked, her onyx claws made a sickening scraping sound across the floor, no doubt scarring them permanently. She didn't stop until she was barely a foot away from Vanya, her hot breath steaming against his face. The bear gave no warning as it rose to two paws, easily towering over its victim. She bared her teeth, sharp and ready to tear into flesh, flexed her claws, and stared deep into the Russian's eyes, waiting for the fear in them to come to light. As a final touch, she lunged slightly towards him, acting as if she was going to attack, but stopped midway and let out an ear-shattering roar.




    The Absent Overlord.
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    OCs: Transylvania & State of Ohio, USA.

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    Re: Rebelling against the Silence

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