dream ✿ 07
A battlefield can be seen with the sound of horses, the clash of swords and shouting occuring in the background. Countless men fall, wounded by fatal cuts and wounds, while others fight on for the glory of their country.
One figure on horseback was obviously more womanly-like; however, and her helmet had long since fallen off, her brown hair falling out of her pony tail and framing her face. Her green eyes are no longer filled with the calm, cheerful light she usually had as she took down body after body with her bow and arrow with quick precision. Perhaps on closer examination, one could tell that the look in her eyes was just a sheer determination to protect her people and her land. Or in this case, what little land she had left.
Just as she pierced the throat of another oncoming Turk, Hungary quickly turned, sensing another figure fast approaching. Her reflexes were slower than usual though and her body ached from the other wounds that were being inflicted upon her country allowing the oncoming person to hit with enough force to send her flying off her horse with a cry.
"Szar!" Hungary pressed a hand to the back of her head and struggled to lift herself out of the mud just as heavy boot came crashing down on her back sending her back into it. The pressure made her cry out in pain as the cuts on her back were still fresh and hadn't any time to heal since the last battle.
"Ah..." the deep voice was tinged with smugness and Hungary knew all too well who would dare to try such a gutsy move on her. "Why don't you just give up, Macaristan? I've conquered so much of your land already." He chuckled a bit as she struggled, continuing on in his native tongue. "The battlefield is no place for a woman after all --,"
At that Hungary let out a cry and she rolled herself out from under the other nations' boot, sending him staggering back in the process. Her face was covered with mud and she wiped it off, never taking her eyes off of him.
"I would rather die than give up my land so easily to your dirty blood," she spat back in her own Hungarian only causing the Ottoman to laugh, extending a hand after he recovered himself.
"Come now, we can end this easily without anymore hurt to either of us. Doesn't your body ache already? Think of your people, hmmm?" Hungary drew her sword in response, the gloom of the battlefield reflecting off of it. Yes, her body hurt. Bandages put over wounds would only be opened the next day when the person before her took pieces of her land away from her. She could feel every single life tied to her extinguished and it made her want to cry. She knew her people's will - she was Hungary after all, and she knew that simply handing over land that was rightfully theirs would put to shame the Maygar blood running through their veins.
Hungary couldn't tell what his eyes looked like behind his mask, but his playful, easy smile that had morphed into a smirk was all she needed to tell that he was getting fed up with her persistence. "If that's what you want, Macaristan, I will humor you. Show you your place, so to speak." He drew his own sword and Hungary's tensed up, forcing herself to focus on this and not the pain that was coming at her from all directions.
The space between the two was closed in a matter of seconds and both nations' muscles strained as the swords clanged against another each trying to find a mark.
The Ottoman's teeth gleemed white against his tanned skin, but Hungary only glowered back before both let go, throwing them both backwards. Not even another moment passed when the two took a running start at each other and both swords managed to come in contact with flesh this time. The man hissed as he clutched his arm, blood already beginning to seep out of the wound that her sword had managed to make. No flicker of pain crossed Hungary's face, and she didn't even bother to wipe away the blood from the cut that was just below her eye.
He barked out a laugh and seemed to recover from his pain as he straightened up, streaking blood across his white mask. "You will be mine."
"I will never be anybody's!" Hungary roared back as she lunged toward the Ottoman. Just at that moment however, a searing pain shot through her and she faltered, giving him an opprotunity to strike. His sword sliced her stomach, and had she not been a nation, she would have surely died. She let out a gasp and fell forward on her knees, her sword falling from her hand. He watched as she swayed, and pressed her hand to her stomach as a bright crimson seeped from the wound.
She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, and a few stray tears did escape as she gazed down, almost in wonder at the cut. The last thing she remembered seeing before she faded to black was the Ottoman kneeling beside her, a horrible smirk on his face as the battle behind them raged. And the last thing she remembered thinking was that she had failed her country.
[Hungary wakes up, clutching the place where the cut in her dream was made. It has long since become a scar, but the pain she feels from it seems fresh. It takes her a moment, but she rolls over and silently switches off the Dreamberry.]
A battlefield can be seen with the sound of horses, the clash of swords and shouting occuring in the background. Countless men fall, wounded by fatal cuts and wounds, while others fight on for the glory of their country.
One figure on horseback was obviously more womanly-like; however, and her helmet had long since fallen off, her brown hair falling out of her pony tail and framing her face. Her green eyes are no longer filled with the calm, cheerful light she usually had as she took down body after body with her bow and arrow with quick precision. Perhaps on closer examination, one could tell that the look in her eyes was just a sheer determination to protect her people and her land. Or in this case, what little land she had left.
Just as she pierced the throat of another oncoming Turk, Hungary quickly turned, sensing another figure fast approaching. Her reflexes were slower than usual though and her body ached from the other wounds that were being inflicted upon her country allowing the oncoming person to hit with enough force to send her flying off her horse with a cry.
"Szar!" Hungary pressed a hand to the back of her head and struggled to lift herself out of the mud just as heavy boot came crashing down on her back sending her back into it. The pressure made her cry out in pain as the cuts on her back were still fresh and hadn't any time to heal since the last battle.
"Ah..." the deep voice was tinged with smugness and Hungary knew all too well who would dare to try such a gutsy move on her. "Why don't you just give up, Macaristan? I've conquered so much of your land already." He chuckled a bit as she struggled, continuing on in his native tongue. "The battlefield is no place for a woman after all --,"
At that Hungary let out a cry and she rolled herself out from under the other nations' boot, sending him staggering back in the process. Her face was covered with mud and she wiped it off, never taking her eyes off of him.
"I would rather die than give up my land so easily to your dirty blood," she spat back in her own Hungarian only causing the Ottoman to laugh, extending a hand after he recovered himself.
"Come now, we can end this easily without anymore hurt to either of us. Doesn't your body ache already? Think of your people, hmmm?" Hungary drew her sword in response, the gloom of the battlefield reflecting off of it. Yes, her body hurt. Bandages put over wounds would only be opened the next day when the person before her took pieces of her land away from her. She could feel every single life tied to her extinguished and it made her want to cry. She knew her people's will - she was Hungary after all, and she knew that simply handing over land that was rightfully theirs would put to shame the Maygar blood running through their veins.
Hungary couldn't tell what his eyes looked like behind his mask, but his playful, easy smile that had morphed into a smirk was all she needed to tell that he was getting fed up with her persistence. "If that's what you want, Macaristan, I will humor you. Show you your place, so to speak." He drew his own sword and Hungary's tensed up, forcing herself to focus on this and not the pain that was coming at her from all directions.
The space between the two was closed in a matter of seconds and both nations' muscles strained as the swords clanged against another each trying to find a mark.
The Ottoman's teeth gleemed white against his tanned skin, but Hungary only glowered back before both let go, throwing them both backwards. Not even another moment passed when the two took a running start at each other and both swords managed to come in contact with flesh this time. The man hissed as he clutched his arm, blood already beginning to seep out of the wound that her sword had managed to make. No flicker of pain crossed Hungary's face, and she didn't even bother to wipe away the blood from the cut that was just below her eye.
He barked out a laugh and seemed to recover from his pain as he straightened up, streaking blood across his white mask. "You will be mine."
"I will never be anybody's!" Hungary roared back as she lunged toward the Ottoman. Just at that moment however, a searing pain shot through her and she faltered, giving him an opprotunity to strike. His sword sliced her stomach, and had she not been a nation, she would have surely died. She let out a gasp and fell forward on her knees, her sword falling from her hand. He watched as she swayed, and pressed her hand to her stomach as a bright crimson seeped from the wound.
She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, and a few stray tears did escape as she gazed down, almost in wonder at the cut. The last thing she remembered seeing before she faded to black was the Ottoman kneeling beside her, a horrible smirk on his face as the battle behind them raged. And the last thing she remembered thinking was that she had failed her country.
[Hungary wakes up, clutching the place where the cut in her dream was made. It has long since become a scar, but the pain she feels from it seems fresh. It takes her a moment, but she rolls over and silently switches off the Dreamberry.]