[Closed]
[If someone were to walk into this old room, they would notice a few splats of blood, vivid against the wooden floor boards. These lead up to a figure sat on the bed closest to the window, his silouette hunched in a thoughtful and passive position.
Prussia ran his tongue over his lower lip, which he had bitten in his rage. He was still shaking lightly, the taste of the blood edging him on. A perfectly polished 18th century sword was propped against the corner of the wall, and the man's crimson eyes moved over her delicately as if she were perhaps a woman. He remembered when he could freely wield her, slicing the throats of those who were lucky enough to ride into the path of the great Prussia, the awesome Prussia. Those who died had at least died in the hands of the greatest nation in the world, or so he thought.
The Prussian felt another shiver of excitement as he remembered the battlefield only too well; the screams of those bastards who dared to oppose him, the whinnying and galloping of the panicked steeds, and the strong iron-like smell of blood under his feet, on his hands and sword. A grin crept silently across his face as he recalled his glory days.]
[ooc: In case anyone reads this. He is batshit insane here, with no real reason but I wanted to play him that way in this thead. I don't usually play him like this but hm, experimentation~ |D]
Prussia ran his tongue over his lower lip, which he had bitten in his rage. He was still shaking lightly, the taste of the blood edging him on. A perfectly polished 18th century sword was propped against the corner of the wall, and the man's crimson eyes moved over her delicately as if she were perhaps a woman. He remembered when he could freely wield her, slicing the throats of those who were lucky enough to ride into the path of the great Prussia, the awesome Prussia. Those who died had at least died in the hands of the greatest nation in the world, or so he thought.
The Prussian felt another shiver of excitement as he remembered the battlefield only too well; the screams of those bastards who dared to oppose him, the whinnying and galloping of the panicked steeds, and the strong iron-like smell of blood under his feet, on his hands and sword. A grin crept silently across his face as he recalled his glory days.]
[ooc: In case anyone reads this. He is batshit insane here, with no real reason but I wanted to play him that way in this thead. I don't usually play him like this but hm, experimentation~ |D]