09-29-2019, 10:02 AM
(Jointly written with [nation]Democratic Republic of Eiria[/nation])
Gods Descending
Jonestown, Bjeorg
July 31, 1991 - afternoon
"What is your purpose in being here? Explain," Abbie demanded of the men in a perfect Eirian accent. She showed no visible fear despite the pistols pointed at her. She made the split-second decision to try and catch them a little off guard.
The one on the right shook his- no, her head. "Are you the one to be asking the questions, Madame?" She asked, gesturing at the sleek silver pistol pointed at Abbie. The woman's partner cocked his gun. "Who are you? Answer, or we'll shoot!" He yelled, causing the woman to wince. "Apollo, this is why you failed Diplomacy". She muttered. "My apologies. But you don't seem like an Eirian soldier, no matter the language you speak or the uniform you wear. No Eirian would be this.... Reckless".
"Your present behaviour seems fairly reckless to me. And you are Eirian, are you not?" Abbie raised an eyebrow, keeping her tone neutral and calm. Having the guns pointed at her made her nervous but she wouldn't show it. If she ran, they would definitely shoot. And she would die before she spoke the truth.
The woman smiled. "Touché, madame. And if we are Eirian, why would we sneak around like this? And if you were, you wouldn't either. So, it seems we are at an impasse". Her companion opened his mouth to speak, but one glare from her silenced him. "So, I wonder who you are. Maximusian? Zamastanian ? Bjeorgian? Or maybe someone else, someone who wants a part of the fight".
"Who I am doesn't matter," Abbie said, continuing in the Eirian accent. "And I imagine you would say similar," she switched to a Bjeorgite accent, "so what are we going to do here?" She finished in the accent of a Maximusian, adding to the confusion and, in spite of its foolishness, showing off a little.
The man looked confused, while woman grinned. "You certainly are well trained, Madame. You ask what we will do here? Well, even if you shoot one of us, we would shoot you, and vice versa. There is no winning in this situation, is there Madame? How about we just go our separate ways?"
Abbie considered the suggestion for several seconds. The woman was correct. It was the best option given, this was not a situation she had planned for today. And Abbie did not want to die.
"Very well," she said. "We go our own way, and the Eirians never have to hear any of this."
"Of course" The woman said. She gestured to her partner to slowly back away, and they did, guns still aimed on Abbie.
She stepped backwards too, moving slowly and methodically, watching closely in case they decided to back out and shoot her.
The man walked down to the end of the alley, carrying their stuff, while the woman backed away, gun still trained on Abbie. "Well then, Madame, We must take our leave. Apollo and Artemis say Adieu!". She rounded the corner and slipped into the shadows
Abbie stood for a moment, then turned and quickly walked away. She wove her way through the streets, finding a balcony with laundry hanging off and stealing a dress, then discarding the uniform in a large bin in an alley, and walking home like nothing had happened.
In her head, though, it was spinning. Who were Apollo and Artemis? Who did the pair work for? Something more was going on. She would have to report this back to the Matriarchy, and she expected she would be ordered to find out more very soon.
Gods Descending
Jonestown, Bjeorg
July 31, 1991 - afternoon
"What is your purpose in being here? Explain," Abbie demanded of the men in a perfect Eirian accent. She showed no visible fear despite the pistols pointed at her. She made the split-second decision to try and catch them a little off guard.
The one on the right shook his- no, her head. "Are you the one to be asking the questions, Madame?" She asked, gesturing at the sleek silver pistol pointed at Abbie. The woman's partner cocked his gun. "Who are you? Answer, or we'll shoot!" He yelled, causing the woman to wince. "Apollo, this is why you failed Diplomacy". She muttered. "My apologies. But you don't seem like an Eirian soldier, no matter the language you speak or the uniform you wear. No Eirian would be this.... Reckless".
"Your present behaviour seems fairly reckless to me. And you are Eirian, are you not?" Abbie raised an eyebrow, keeping her tone neutral and calm. Having the guns pointed at her made her nervous but she wouldn't show it. If she ran, they would definitely shoot. And she would die before she spoke the truth.
The woman smiled. "Touché, madame. And if we are Eirian, why would we sneak around like this? And if you were, you wouldn't either. So, it seems we are at an impasse". Her companion opened his mouth to speak, but one glare from her silenced him. "So, I wonder who you are. Maximusian? Zamastanian ? Bjeorgian? Or maybe someone else, someone who wants a part of the fight".
"Who I am doesn't matter," Abbie said, continuing in the Eirian accent. "And I imagine you would say similar," she switched to a Bjeorgite accent, "so what are we going to do here?" She finished in the accent of a Maximusian, adding to the confusion and, in spite of its foolishness, showing off a little.
The man looked confused, while woman grinned. "You certainly are well trained, Madame. You ask what we will do here? Well, even if you shoot one of us, we would shoot you, and vice versa. There is no winning in this situation, is there Madame? How about we just go our separate ways?"
Abbie considered the suggestion for several seconds. The woman was correct. It was the best option given, this was not a situation she had planned for today. And Abbie did not want to die.
"Very well," she said. "We go our own way, and the Eirians never have to hear any of this."
"Of course" The woman said. She gestured to her partner to slowly back away, and they did, guns still aimed on Abbie.
She stepped backwards too, moving slowly and methodically, watching closely in case they decided to back out and shoot her.
The man walked down to the end of the alley, carrying their stuff, while the woman backed away, gun still trained on Abbie. "Well then, Madame, We must take our leave. Apollo and Artemis say Adieu!". She rounded the corner and slipped into the shadows
Abbie stood for a moment, then turned and quickly walked away. She wove her way through the streets, finding a balcony with laundry hanging off and stealing a dress, then discarding the uniform in a large bin in an alley, and walking home like nothing had happened.
In her head, though, it was spinning. Who were Apollo and Artemis? Who did the pair work for? Something more was going on. She would have to report this back to the Matriarchy, and she expected she would be ordered to find out more very soon.
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