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 Posted: Thu Aug 26, 2010 6:28 pm
Roleplay name: Ice Queen
Characters: Antarctica and Russia
Time: Present Day
Brief Summary: Antarctica has returned to the World Stage, very much an adult, but looking for someone she claims to be dear to her: a man she meant when she was suffering from Global Warming, a gentle giant who took care of her. However, despite the fact that she has been pointed in his direction, she refused to believe that the slightly demented nation of Russia is "her" stranger . . . This leads to several sparks and chilly exchanges. Can the Snow King melt the Ice Queen's heart?
((DEAR CHRIST I FAIL AT THIS))
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Posted: Thu Aug 26, 2010 8:28 pm
Antarctica There had been a time when Antarctica was in extreme pain. Her body was shrinking and she was breaking up, melting. Things had gotten too hot, and she was dying.
However, before she could die, she was saved, craddled in the strong arms of a bigger someone. He had brought with him a research party, and gradually, she came back to life a bit. Things cooled off, she wasn't about to die anymore.
Her last memories of him, before she fell into a sleep, waking up an adult again, was of him setting her on his shoulder. His hair smelled like winter and some other, floral sent she didn't recognize. She remembered him singing to her, letting her stand on his boots and he "danced" with her.
Rossia - sviashennaia nasha derzhava,
Rossia - lubimaia nasha strana!
She remembered the tune, but she couldn't remember his face.
When she awoke, all she had was a dead, crumpled yellow flower and some cream colored string. Determined to find this man once again, she tied the remaining petals together with those threads and wore them in a medicine back around her neck, tucked into her tunic.
Antarctica's search had not gone as well as she had hoped. Various other countries had told here that it was a nation by the name of Russia, Ivan, by how she had described him. But Antarctica was a very old land mass. She was one of the closest to Gaea. She remembered visiting Kievan Rus when she was still alive, remember Kievan's little ones. Ivan was barely knee high when last she had visited, and a little backwards thing. There was no way he was her Stranger.
But, she stood on his doorstep now, looking around his frigid country, arms crossed, fur-lined cloak around her shoulders and draping over her front as well. She held no expectations, figured that this was a goosechase.
What could he have become, anyway? Nothing at all like who she was looking for . . .Anikta Byrdland
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 5:14 pm
The Ice Prince ✯ Ivan Braginsky
❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆
Ivan hummed to himself as he let his pipe drag along the ground, a soft scraping against the nice carpeting of his home making a nice accompaniment to his song, like the background bass, thumping as it encountered objects and making the song deeper. His violet hues gazed about his large home, the massive mansion frozen and icy; it was not much warmer inside the stone masterpiece than it was out, so even here, ice collected if water was spilt. His lips curled into a vicious smile, just a touch too wide, before he swung the pipe at a tapestry on the wall, the hook-like nature of the tap catching on the old fabric and tearing it from the wall with a screech of ripping material to fall to the ground in soft flutters. He continued til the rest of the old tapestry was on the ground, shredded and torn to pieces. Why he did it, he wasn't sure, but the color made him want to destroy it. The vibrant red was a stark contrast to the muted blues and purples, too alive to survive in the cold tundra of Russia's home. He disliked the color.
He turned his attention from the material to the rest of his home once he was bored with tearing it, meandering through the various rooms. Ah, that room was once one of the Romanov daughters' rooms. He paused outside the closed door, pipe listlessly at his side and just brushing the ground. He reached up with a gloved hand to touch the wood, then, slowly, so slowly, leaned forward and pressed his ear lightly to the wood, listening. He was waiting for Anastacia's sparkling trill, Maria's happy titter at Tatiana's and Olga's chattering, telling the younger sisters to focus upon their sewing to better please their father, the Czar. He waited patiently, hearing nothing for a very long time, closing his eyes to better listen for something he knew would never be heard again. But then there was a soft shifting sound within the room.
His eyes shot open, bright purple lights in the gloom. Ivan's hand edged down the door as he pulled back from the barrier, turning the knob carefully, knowing his strength could easily break it if he wasn't wary. The door opened with starts and jumps, having been closed for so long that the wood had almost rotted closed. Once open, the pale light of the perpetual half-light in his home poured into the room, illuminating a dusty, lonely, empty bedroom. He stared for a long while, then solemnly closed the door once more, making sure it was closed properly before turning away. He heard something again and spun on his heel to face the room, shoulders rising in faint anger before realizing it must be a trick, a prank. They were playing a joke. He paused for a moment, then laughed aloud.
"Little Czarinas, do not hide from Rossiya~!" He called out in a sing-song voice of his native tongue. "Rossiya would like to join this game of hide-and-seek~" He began skipping through his home, giggling, though listening for any sound in his home to give away the Romanovs' presence. "Rossiya is coming~ You are ready, da?" His smile was big and happy, joy radiating from the tall man's expression. Another sound alerted him, and he skipped towards it, though he soon realized that he sound was merely somebody knocking on the door.
A bit let down and melancholy now, he opened the door easily with a flick of his wrist after stashing his pipe back into his coat and adjusting his scarf to better protect his neck from the biting wind. He blinked, looking about, then glanced down to see a girl on his doorstep that looked vaguely familiar, though he was not sure. "Privet, Comrade~ Do you want to come in Russia's house?" He offered, opening the door a bit more to entice her. Perhaps somebody wanted to be one with Mother Russia~
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 5:41 pm
Antarctica {{That was beautiful, darling *_*; for serious, I got chills when he started talking about the girls . . . }}
Antarctia blinked up at him. He was big, his size immense. She was willowy, yes, but not nearly as tall. She barely came to his chest. His broad, strong chest. Shaking herself, she forced her eyes to look into his. That striking violet color struck her again and she frowned. She wished she could remember Stranger's face and name. It would make things so much easier.
"Hello," she said, bowing her head in greeting. "To get out of the cold, yes." Cautious, she stepped over the threshold, past him, feeling as if he was a vacuum for warmth. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was warm, yes, because of his side, but his core was frigid, and he sucked up emotions like a sponge.
Antarctia, despite being accustomed to all the snow one could believe imaginable, didn't always enjoy being stuck in it, as she had been before she came to Russia's house. Looking around, almost forgetting about the larger nation behind her, if that was possible, Antarctica found herself getting comfortable.
She pulled her hood back, letting a curtain of silvery white curls tumble out and down her back. Antarctica felt eyes upon her then, and she turned, seeing Russia.
"Oh. I'm so sorry. Please. Let me introduce myself." she said. Antarctica bowed her head, and raised it again to look at Russia. "I am Antarctica. Occassionally known as Anikta Byrdland. Please, for simplicity's sake, call me Ani or Antarctica. Thank you."
Some people told her she gave orders to easily, she was too frigid and hard for her own good. Too impassive, too untamable . . . Antarctica didn't agree, and she could already feel a cold pit settle in her stomach when she looked at Russia. As if he were planning something.
He had grown, a lot . . .
"I was told, by other nations, that you might have been the one, or, more likely, no the one who had rescued me in the Arctic years ago. It was an expedition to reverse the effects of Global Warming and had, as you can see, been a success."
Her voice was as crisp and chilled as a winter morning.
"If you could please point me in the direction of the man I am looking for, I will not trouble you any longer, and me on my way within the utterance."Anikta Byrdland
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 7:42 pm
The Ice Prince ✯ Ivan Braginsky
❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆
At her words, Ivan smiled and turned aside to give her more room to walk into his home, closing the door behind her, the latch clicking almost ominously. He stared after the door for a moment, thinking back to the Romanov daughters before shaking his head to clear himself of the thoughts and spinning to face the girl. She had dropped her hood, revealing curls the same color that his mother's silvery locks had been. His melancholy doubled, then tripled, leaving him feeling very lonely indeed.
He perked up a bit, listening as she introduced herself and waited for all of her speaking to cease, silent. Even after, he waited a few beats, letting the silence accumulate. He was digesting the information slowly, putting pieces into their proper places for a few moments. Her name was Anikta-- good. He had wondered what her name was when he had saved her from the heat of the other nations' folly. Yes, he was the one that had saved her. He was glad to see that she had recovered fully-- he had tried his best to keep her cool, going so far as to dump her outside in the snow and ice for a day to see if it had helped. It seemed it had, along with all of Russia's other small thoughts and whimsies.
He tilted his head to the side a slight bit, the perpetual smile on his face neither fading nor changing. If anything, it grew. It was so funny that she thought she could order Russia about. So cute. She thought that she meant something in the world, when really, when one came to Russia, one meant only what Russia decided. And Russia decided that she didn't really mean much at all.
He walked closer to her and picked her up by the back of her shirt delicately, not wishing to pinch her neck or harm her. He just wanted to examine her in his manner and on his terms. After turning his wrist to meet her eyes, he finally spoke. "Da. Ivan is the one who saved you from the Warmth that was flowing North." He said simply. "Ivan also thinks you are being too commanding. You will not get many friends if you command people, haha~! Ivan learned this on his own."
He paused, then a vague thought wandered through his mind that by holding her, he might harm her, or make her angry, and if she was displeased, she would not wish to join the motherland. This thought upset Ivan, so his smile dimmed just a little and he set her down daintily. "Ivan is sorry for holding you. Next time, Ivan make sure you are dead before he holds you up by the neck." He giggled.
((Thank you, Mama~! =D ))
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 9:11 pm
Antarctica Antarctica gasped and reached up, grabbing his hands. She was full-sized again, he shouldn't be allowed to do this, let along even think it. She gnashed her teeth and tried to kick her feet, which were about a foot off the ground. Damn him, she thought. Damn him!
She froze when he spoke though, her eyes widening. Her worst fears were imagined and made real. Ivan was the man she owed her life to. Her eyes narrowed when he reminded her of her icy nature and commanding tone. She frowned, almost glaring at him.
Antarctica figured it was her sour look that made him put her down. Once her heeled boots were on the tile, she adjusted her cloak and tunic over her pants and crossed her arms, glaring up at him.
At his next words, her expressions softened and then spun on a dime in a heart beat. Sorry for picking you up, next time I do, you'll be dead.
Dear Gaea . . .
Antarctica realized she might have made the tiniest of mistakes in coming here and sought to leave.
"Yes, well," she said, her voice softer than before. "Thank you. For saving my life, I mean. I will be going now."
She began to walk around him, heading for the door. She was cursing herself for being such a fool, for wanting to perhaps love the man who saved her. Pfft, yeah, that was going to happen . . .
"I thank you again, but, I need to go home . . ."Anikta Byrdland
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 9:56 pm
The Ice Prince ✯ Ivan Braginsky
❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆
He smiled as she fought against his grasp, rotating his wrist slightly for the small kink that had developed from her rather vigorous fighting. She was small but she was nothing to balk at-- in that, she was like his mother. He smiled again, letting it go beyond the bounds of a comfortable grin and into a slightly sadistic smirk. "Da. You owe Russia your life." He repeated, testing the words as they rolled form his tongue to the air in the room, then nodded. He liked the sound of that, he liked the sound very much. These words she spoke-- they gave him power.
As she expressed her desire to leave, Ivan moved quickly, more quickly than one would think for such a tall and powerfully built man, and stood before the door, pipe in his right hand and scarf fluttering from the swift motion. His arms were thrown out, as it to protect the door from her touch and to prevent her from leaving. "Nyet." He said, propping a heel on the door to prevent her from opening it; even if she were to tug with all her weight, his own weight would counterbalance and force her to give up. She had come here of her own free will-- but those who came to Russia's house left when Russia was done with them.
"Russia has not had a friend over for a very long time. Ani will stay until Russia says she can go." He stated, his tone brooking no argument. He really didn't like her attitude anyway. She was so mean and cutting, like the wind when the icy snow flew in a blizzard, so fast and so sharp that it would carve wounds into flesh. He didn't like that. He wanted her to be quiet and listen to Russia, to be good and obey him in all his commands til he was bored. Even then, he would play with her until was taken away from him by the others or his house fell or she was dead. Russia cocked his head at the notion of death, thinking, thinking.
"Russia wants to play a game." He proposed, the smile dimming to merely his lips curving instead of the blinding flash of teeth. "Russia say that if you win game, you go home. If Russia win, you stay until Russia says you can go. Oh. And Russia say you have no choice." He giggled, spinning the pipe lazily in his hand, a subconscious threat to harm her if she were to resist.
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 10:11 pm
Antarctica The slightly smaller woman blinked up at him. At first, shock, at his gall and then her temper flared. The harpoon she kept strapped at her shoulders was swung around in her hands in an instant, pointed at his throat.
"Well, Ani says that Ani wants to go home now and Ani will go home now because Ani has no time for your silly games!" She snapped sourly. Antarctica saw the pipe glint and froze.
She realized that, for now, she was out matched. Her harpoon was sharp but, like hunting the sharks that threatened her precious seals, she only had one chance at striking a blow that would incapacitate him. Should she fail, she was dead. Her harpoon was made of wood. That pipe was metal. It would break her harpoon in two, with one hit . . .
Antarctica chose to change tactics. Play his gave, out wit him, run when she had the first chance.
"O-on second thought . . ." she said, slowly. "I suppose I owe you one game."
Very slowly, she rehooked her harpoon and waited, knees bent, ready to spring away if he were to attack.
"I'll play a game with you. One game."Anikta Byrdland
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 10:27 pm
The Ice Prince ✯ Ivan Braginsky
❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆
Ivan raised his hand, grasping the cold metal of the harpoon, though the cold was dulled by the leather gloves he wore. His expression was no different, yet the air about him was very palpably hostile. She moved in a threatening way against him, pointing a sharp metal item to his neck. A harpoon, he thought to himself, amused. She means to use a harpoon against the man who, for all intents and purposes, could snap her neck like a twig and leave her to seize like an epileptic after seeing flashing lights. He might do that later, he mused. He always did like to see people in pathetic situations.
Her words, though, were so mean. She was really something. She needed to be taken down a peg. He was going to have to punish her. He was going to give her a handicap in the game, since she proved that she could not play nice. Russia didn't really care who won the game, after all. He just wanted fun. But if she insisted upon being so unkind to him, after he so graciously offered her to enter his home to be free of the bitter cold, then he supposed he really should just return it in kind.
His hand about the harpoon tightened, and as she began to pull the harpoon away, realizing that Russia was right --Russia was always right--, Ivan tugged the harpoon towards himself and swung the pipe with his free hand, shattering her weapon in one blow and raining bits and pieces of wood everywhere. "It is not safe to have a sharp thing like that, Ani. Ani might hurt herself and Ivan does not want that. Ivan saved her, after all, so if she hurts herself, Ivan would have no choice but to think that Ani did not want to be saved. And if Ani did not want to be saved..."
He paused to giggle again. "Then Ivan would think that she wants to be treated badly, and Ivan would punish her outside until the snow turned red and Ani could not move." He nodded, then moved the hand that had gripped the harpoon to his side, unclenching his fingers to allow sharps of wood to fall to the floor in soft melody. "Snow is always red in Russia." His laugh this time was not really a laugh, but almost a chant-- a soft kolkolkol that filled the air with dread and threats of torture, vicious beatings, and death. He almost seemed to glow with an eerie purple flame, but his smile, as ever, was just as innocent and loving as a child's.
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 10:36 pm
Antarctica Antarctica kept her self from screaming in surprise, somehow, and took a step back, hands over her mouth. She shivered, though not from the cold. He meant to hurt her, she realized. Meant to hurt her . . . This was no knight in shining armer, this was a nightmare in a scarf. She was quick to go on the rebound, though. Damage control.
"I'm sorry. You're right. I was wrong, I'm sorry. I want to play that game now," she said, honestly as she could muster. "What game did you want to play, Ivan?"
Think fast, she thought. Her heart was in her throat. This was not the man who held her when she cried from the pain of her death throughs, this was not the man who let her stand on his boots while he sang to her, and danced with her . . . he . . . something must have happened, he wasn't the same, he had changed . . .
"Back . . . back home, the seals and penguins and I . . ." She said, a hushed whisper, talking out loud to find some way out of the situation. "The polar bears, my friends . . . we would play hide and seek. Th-that's my very favorite game, Ivan. Can we play that? Please?" Anikta Byrdland
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 11:02 pm
The Ice Prince ✯ Ivan Braginsky
❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆
Ivan slowly calmed from his anger as she so quickly apologized to him. She was being a good person now, apologizing for what she did wrong. Ivan did not need to be angry anymore. So, he let it go. The murmurings of evildoings was cut off mid-word and the vicious aura lifted, leaving him a large, happy child. He was going to play a game! Ah, but what game? He listened to her contentedly, then shook his head.
"Nyet. Russia does not like hide-and-seek. There are only two of us. We cannot play that game here. My house is too big and you would go into some rooms that Ivan would not want. Some rooms are for Ivan's eyes only." He answered. "We will play another game."
He paused to think of the games he had played with his sisters. There was peek-a-boo, but she was not a baby and there was no winner. A hiding game, where an item for each person was hidden, and the first person to find the item hidden for them won. Ivan thought about that, and he thought some more, then he nodded. He liked this game.
"We will play a hiding game. You give me something and I go and hide it. I give you something, and you go and hide it. Whoever finds the item hidden for them first wins!" Ivan almost shouted the last excitedly. This was a fun game! He liked it a lot. "Give me something of yours, something you do not want to lose or give away. I will hide it and then come back and give you something of mine to hide." He put out his free hand, expecting something to be placed in it for him to hide.
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 11:15 pm
Antarctica Ani nodded. Perfect.
"Here," she said, fishing her medicine bag out from around her neck. She was shaking, scared. Placing it in his hand, as if scared to touch him, she pulled her hand back. "Now you give me something of yours." She said.
Ani didn't mind losing the medicine bag, with the once treasured yellow petals from her once-beloved rescuer. Anikta Byrdland
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 11:23 pm
The Ice Prince ✯ Ivan Braginsky
❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆
Ivan took the bag and held it carefully. It seemed important. He didn't notice her shivers, or her fearful eyes, focusing instead on only the bag. Oh! It was a drawstring. He wondered what was inside. His fingers were a little clumsy from the thick gloves, but nonetheless, he managed to open it without too much difficulty, then tilted it and let the objects inside come falling out to his other hand, the pipe having been stashed once again in his jacket.
Old, dry sunflower petals fell out as delicately as the softest snowfall. His eyes widened as he touched them lightly, feeling them crumbled under his touch. He brought his hand up and pulled the glove off with his teeth, keeping the glove there as he touched the still silky petals with a careful fingertip. She had kept them, from that long time ago. She had treasured them and loved them, then put them in a safe place. Though, she had put it in a place where the sun would not warm it, it was still a loving gesture.
His posture softened and his face gentled, the smile turning into a genuine show of happiness. "Ani kept the petals..." He murmured, then reverently put the petals back into the bag, cinching it tight, and then replaced the glove. "Does Ani love sunflowers?"
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 11:28 pm
Antarctica Antarctica blinked. She was convinced she had just witnessed a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde moment. He changed, becoming softer, kinder. He was an immovable rock to her, but now . . . familiarity. Her mind was brought back to him singing to her and she shook herself, slightly.
He's not him. He never was. It's a trick . . .
"Yes," she said, honestly. The sunflower that he had left with her had wilted and she had been sad to see its beauty fade. "I haven't seen another since you left me."
Still weary, still on her guard, Antarctica took a step forward, shivering still.Anikta Byrdland
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 10:15 pm
The Ice Prince ✯ Ivan Braginsky
❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆
Ivan frowned slightly. "That is sad. Sunflowers are beautiful and wonderful. Ani should see many." He thought for a moment, then without preamble or explanation, walked out of the room, expecting her to follow. He navigated the corridors and twists and turns of his native home. In a short time (to him at any rate), he arrived at an ajar door. Looking over his shoulder expectantly and with a soft smile, he slipped in the room.
Inside was a well-tended greenhouse. He knew that greenhouses were mostly not attached to actual living quarters, but if it was closer, the plants inside would be closer to him and his heart. Inside the artificially warmed room were sunflowers. Dozens and dozens of the happy yellow flower, all beaming and joyful to see him. He smiles, immediately feeling happier and loved, even if he was alone. Her bag was still in his hand, but though he held it carefully, it did not matter. He walked through the aisles of the large room, smelling in the earth in the air and the smell of the yellow, because to Russia, happiness was yellow.
"See, Ani?" He said, smiling brightly as he leant down to nuzzles a flower, "This is happiness. This is love." He didn't add that the flower petals in the bag was a way that he had said he had cared abut her very much to give her one of his precious flowers, but it was implied. If she got it it was up to her to take it as she saw fit. Or not. He really didn't care much. He had his flowers.
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