Re: I've been waiting. [7/?]
anonymous
October 4 2009, 21:27:03 UTC
She watches them storm into homes, silencing the screaming within the walls and pillaging the stores as if they were in the past. She doesn’t stop them with the police come out. There aren’t enough of them there to effectively calm her angered group.
They fall within minutes, littering her earth with their bodies.
When she blinked, everything was still once more. There’s a crying girl clinging to her deerskin skirt and all she can do is press a hand to the back of her neck, sliding out the small dagger between her fingers and slice the neck wide open.
When the body falls to the ground, a twitching mess of limbs, she has to stifle a small laugh.
“Try to ignore me now.”
The words Ahyokah had spoken that afternoon haunted her. Every station on the television was marked with their image. Webcams had caught them in the act of the slaughter and for some reason, the fact that someone had shot at them first seemed to be wiped out from any news report.
The next day, a similar occurrence happened in Canada and was reported on later that night.
It was dubbed a tragedy. There was talk of capturing every Native American as quickly as possible. She saw the news coverage of the press conference that America’s boss had and behind the man, her gaze was enraptured by the blond. He looked ashamed, tired and angry.
She couldn’t have been happier.
They call a meeting two months after the blood bath on those desert dry streets. The woman is tempted to not answer the phone, but decides that she fights now for attention to cause. If they wish to speak, she will answer.
When she walks in holding an air of tranquility about her, all heads look up. She seems them immediately, weary and nervous. America, sitting closet to the door-closet to her as she walks in, no longer holding a nervous smile but instead, glancing away towards the window. Across from him, she sees Canada; staring down at the ground with his hands folded his lap. There are two new faces though, ones she can’t remember seeing before.
They both stand as she enters.
“You’re causing problems.” The one with prominent brows starts without introduction. He held an air of arrogance that immediately revolted her.
“Now now England, when you’re in the sight of such a beautiful woman you should be more polite.” Even in the seriousness of the situation, he holds out his hand to her. “It’s been too long! Oui? Native America, it is dear France.”
With a smile, she grasps his hand, giving it a slight shake.
They all sit down in the circle of chairs, she is in the middle and knowing this intimidation tactic well, she simply continues to smile, looking like nothing more than the picture of deerskin-clad innocence.
“I wish for you all to leave me and America alone.”
To this, male’s head finally turns to look at her, Canada finally glancing up as well. She can see the large cut across his cheek and resists the urge to laugh under her breath.
“Non~ There is much we all need to discuss.”
“You are causing problems for the country right now. America has more important things to deal with than a revolt in his country, if you don’t stop, we’ll have no choice to bring up arms against you.” The British man wasted no time.
She ponders the amusing thought that he must be a very busy man.
“I’m surprised you would say that. Did you two not fight quite some time ago?” They both stiffen at these words, unable to speak of their separation still. The ache from that memory was tangible in the room and it took America’s voice to pull them out of it. “How could you kill all those innocent people?”
Her head tilted. “What was it that you said? ‘Our’ people can survive another night, but your people are dying.” Her mouth straightens into a thin line. “Your people are dying now in your own land because of your ignorance. What will you do?”
Re: I've been waiting. [8/9]
anonymous
October 4 2009, 21:30:07 UTC
They share a moment together, unable to tear each other’s gaze away. Both were sides unable to believe that it had come to this extreme.
England breaks the silence now with a ‘click’ from his gun and points it at her head. There is an unexpected coldness emitting from him, covering the whole room in a frozen blanket. “I heard you called him ‘your son’ but you are of no relation.’’ She couldn’t help but smile.
It was personal now.
“But he is my son.” She didn’t seem outwardly intimated by the weapon at her head. “In my own way, on my land. He learned from me like any child would learn from their mother. As I learned from mine. “
She feels his hand shake, but doesn’t look to see if it’s from anger.
She doesn’t have too.
America is ignoring her and staring at England, eyes shaking with weakness.
“Stop it England. We’re here to talk, not shoot and where did you get that gun from.”
“You bloody idiot it’s my gun. Do you realize the chaotic mess the world is in right now? No one’s going to notice her gone. No one noticed her here in the first place.” The words were rooted with deep-seated anger that she supposed came from all those confrontations in the past.
France pushed the front of the gun away, smiling nervously.
She expected him to do so, they did go back.
“Let’s discuss this like the civilized people we are.”
He seats himself in a huff, placing the handgun on the table in front of them. America looks relieved and returns his attention to the woman who sat up straight at the sudden attention, piercing him with her gaze.
It hurt him even more to say. “We’re going to have to detain you.”
But she just smiles and leans back against the comfortable chair. It made him nervous.
She looked all too much like Ivan, when he would bring out his pipe.
“Detain me?” Her voice cracked into a fit of laughter. “Tell me, how much more of me can you detain? You’ve already cornered us, locked us into ‘reservations’ denied us our humanity and will.” Her hands rose towards the table as she grabbed the gun, placing it firmly against her head. All three stood up quickly. “You cannot kill my spirit, dear son.” Even when she removes the weapon from her head, she still laughs. “This is awfully light England; did you forget to put bullets in it?”
The man blushes at the impromptu confession. The gun had been for threats only.
But there were bullets in his pocket he could easily throw in.
They could see it.
The French man seems to let out a sigh of relief, though his body was tensed. “Mon Cherie, please place the gun down. You gave me a heart attack I think.”
For the briefest moment, she seems to think America has had one, as he slumps back into his seat and rubs his head.
“I’m surprised to see you so distraught. Isn’t this what you wanted? No...I suppose you would have wanted to pull the trigger yourself.”
Cheerfully, she claps her hands together, the gun still in her grasp.
“Please do. Make yourself feel better.” There’s anguish in his pose and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the people in the room.
He laughs. A sound so sad in pathetic, she almost feels sorry for him.
“I’ve made you this way, haven’t I?”
Her answer is in the way she throws the gun to the opposite end of the room and in one swift movement, her legs are on the table, poised to jump and her fingers are around his throat, along with the bloodstained dagger from the days ago, when she had first felt a taste of power.
“I loved you once.” There’s a thin line of blood that appears on his neck and when she presses her lips against his laughing forehead, there’s a loud, resounding bang.
Re: I've been waiting. [9/9]
anonymous
October 4 2009, 21:30:55 UTC
At first, she doesn’t seem what Alfred looks so shocked about, but she doesn’t understand why her hands are suddenly falling or why her body seems so weak once again.
Her mind is suddenly filled with adrenaline when she turns her head just in time to see the smoke disappearing from the gun and Canada turning away from the scene. France was looking at his English partner with shock. He starts talking, but she can’t understand the words.
She slumps against the American who clutches onto her while he screams her name.
She's still laughs, even when her blood starts staining the floor.
This turned out a lot different than I thought. I hope you all enjoyed it though.
OP loves you
anonymous
October 6 2009, 06:19:07 UTC
Oh, I loved how dark it became, although I still can't help but think of Native America as kind of a tragic figure, huh? Thank you for the lovely fill!
They fall within minutes, littering her earth with their bodies.
When she blinked, everything was still once more. There’s a crying girl clinging to her deerskin skirt and all she can do is press a hand to the back of her neck, sliding out the small dagger between her fingers and slice the neck wide open.
When the body falls to the ground, a twitching mess of limbs, she has to stifle a small laugh.
“Try to ignore me now.”
The words Ahyokah had spoken that afternoon haunted her. Every station on the television was marked with their image. Webcams had caught them in the act of the slaughter and for some reason, the fact that someone had shot at them first seemed to be wiped out from any news report.
The next day, a similar occurrence happened in Canada and was reported on later that night.
It was dubbed a tragedy. There was talk of capturing every Native American as quickly as possible. She saw the news coverage of the press conference that America’s boss had and behind the man, her gaze was enraptured by the blond. He looked ashamed, tired and angry.
She couldn’t have been happier.
They call a meeting two months after the blood bath on those desert dry streets. The woman is tempted to not answer the phone, but decides that she fights now for attention to cause. If they wish to speak, she will answer.
When she walks in holding an air of tranquility about her, all heads look up. She seems them immediately, weary and nervous. America, sitting closet to the door-closet to her as she walks in, no longer holding a nervous smile but instead, glancing away towards the window. Across from him, she sees Canada; staring down at the ground with his hands folded his lap.
There are two new faces though, ones she can’t remember seeing before.
They both stand as she enters.
“You’re causing problems.” The one with prominent brows starts without introduction. He held an air of arrogance that immediately revolted her.
“Now now England, when you’re in the sight of such a beautiful woman you should be more polite.” Even in the seriousness of the situation, he holds out his hand to her. “It’s been too long! Oui? Native America, it is dear France.”
With a smile, she grasps his hand, giving it a slight shake.
They all sit down in the circle of chairs, she is in the middle and knowing this intimidation tactic well, she simply continues to smile, looking like nothing more than the picture of deerskin-clad innocence.
“I wish for you all to leave me and America alone.”
To this, male’s head finally turns to look at her, Canada finally glancing up as well. She can see the large cut across his cheek and resists the urge to laugh under her breath.
“Non~ There is much we all need to discuss.”
“You are causing problems for the country right now. America has more important things to deal with than a revolt in his country, if you don’t stop, we’ll have no choice to bring up arms against you.” The British man wasted no time.
She ponders the amusing thought that he must be a very busy man.
“I’m surprised you would say that. Did you two not fight quite some time ago?” They both stiffen at these words, unable to speak of their separation still. The ache from that memory was tangible in the room and it took America’s voice to pull them out of it. “How could you kill all those innocent people?”
Her head tilted. “What was it that you said? ‘Our’ people can survive another night, but your people are dying.” Her mouth straightens into a thin line. “Your people are dying now in your own land because of your ignorance. What will you do?”
She can see he’s furious.
He can see the similar look in her eyes.
Reply
England breaks the silence now with a ‘click’ from his gun and points it at her head. There is an unexpected coldness emitting from him, covering the whole room in a frozen blanket. “I heard you called him ‘your son’ but you are of no relation.’’ She couldn’t help but smile.
It was personal now.
“But he is my son.” She didn’t seem outwardly intimated by the weapon at her head. “In my own way, on my land. He learned from me like any child would learn from their mother. As I learned from mine. “
She feels his hand shake, but doesn’t look to see if it’s from anger.
She doesn’t have too.
America is ignoring her and staring at England, eyes shaking with weakness.
“Stop it England. We’re here to talk, not shoot and where did you get that gun from.”
“You bloody idiot it’s my gun. Do you realize the chaotic mess the world is in right now? No one’s going to notice her gone. No one noticed her here in the first place.” The words were rooted with deep-seated anger that she supposed came from all those confrontations in the past.
France pushed the front of the gun away, smiling nervously.
She expected him to do so, they did go back.
“Let’s discuss this like the civilized people we are.”
He seats himself in a huff, placing the handgun on the table in front of them. America looks relieved and returns his attention to the woman who sat up straight at the sudden attention, piercing him with her gaze.
It hurt him even more to say. “We’re going to have to detain you.”
But she just smiles and leans back against the comfortable chair. It made him nervous.
She looked all too much like Ivan, when he would bring out his pipe.
“Detain me?” Her voice cracked into a fit of laughter. “Tell me, how much more of me can you detain? You’ve already cornered us, locked us into ‘reservations’ denied us our humanity and will.” Her hands rose towards the table as she grabbed the gun, placing it firmly against her head. All three stood up quickly. “You cannot kill my spirit, dear son.” Even when she removes the weapon from her head, she still laughs. “This is awfully light England; did you forget to put bullets in it?”
The man blushes at the impromptu confession. The gun had been for threats only.
But there were bullets in his pocket he could easily throw in.
They could see it.
The French man seems to let out a sigh of relief, though his body was tensed. “Mon Cherie, please place the gun down. You gave me a heart attack I think.”
For the briefest moment, she seems to think America has had one, as he slumps back into his seat and rubs his head.
“I’m surprised to see you so distraught. Isn’t this what you wanted? No...I suppose you would have wanted to pull the trigger yourself.”
Cheerfully, she claps her hands together, the gun still in her grasp.
“Please do. Make yourself feel better.” There’s anguish in his pose and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the people in the room.
He laughs. A sound so sad in pathetic, she almost feels sorry for him.
“I’ve made you this way, haven’t I?”
Her answer is in the way she throws the gun to the opposite end of the room and in one swift movement, her legs are on the table, poised to jump and her fingers are around his throat, along with the bloodstained dagger from the days ago, when she had first felt a taste of power.
“I loved you once.” There’s a thin line of blood that appears on his neck and when she presses her lips against his laughing forehead, there’s a loud, resounding bang.
Reply
Her mind is suddenly filled with adrenaline when she turns her head just in time to see the smoke disappearing from the gun and Canada turning away from the scene. France was looking at his English partner with shock.
He starts talking, but she can’t understand the words.
She slumps against the American who clutches onto her while he screams her name.
She's still laughs, even when her blood starts staining the floor.
This turned out a lot different than I thought. I hope you all enjoyed it though.
Reply
Reply
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