Demetrio Fortuna
Fresh Meat
Heteroflexable.
22.
Played by Silv.
Offline.
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Post by Portugal on Aug 22, 2014 3:48:25 GMT -6
Music inspiration for this postWalking through the rows of seats, Demetrio could only sigh at the destruction. Floods always caused problems, more so than just the obvious. Every item looked ruined, almost beyond repair. Squatting down to look at one of the many items on the floor, his expression , while normally looked like he was about to frown, actually did turn downward, an unhappy turn to his mouth as he picked up the item that caught his attention. There was no one else here but him in this room, but he knew that long ago, many different people used to live here. It was hard to forget, very easy actually. But here in his hands, was proof of it. In his hands hung a teddy bear, one that was water logged and had one of its button eyes hanging on by a fragile thread. It probably didn’t actually belong to the previous owners, but perhaps to one of the children of the slaves that lived here. Carefully pulling it closer to him, the wet bear touched his shirt, transferring water to the white fabric but he didn’t care. All he felt currently was the need to try and fix this stuffed animal whose whole purpose it was to be loved. A friend to comfort you when crying, one that wouldn’t ask anything in return, just one that would be there and listen, be the presence that was needed to help through the night when the shadows grew darker and crept into your thoughts and dreams. From personal experience, Demetrio knew that sometimes a small thing that could bring you comfort was the only comfort you could find, and you would hang onto it with everything you held dear so not to lose that one light that shone hope into your life. Memories flooded his mind of past wars he had suffered through, fought with his fellow man through. He had always tried to keep the civilian causalities down, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. It was these moments that he found himself in his makeshift bed for the night, curled up with the one luxury he allowed himself during battle, a small stuffed bear that was a gift from a child in a small village. He had later learned that the fighting had made it to the village and …. “Let’s try to fix your eye, sim?Moving one hand, he moved to pick up the button up from where it hung and placed it back against the cloth head. Frowning he looked around, no needle in sight and no other way to fix it. He guessed it would have to wait until later to do, but for now he let the button to so it could hang against where it was before. Though as he watched it fall, he could only hold his breath as it actually did fall, a small ping on the floor. The old string had finally given way and broke, leaving the bear truly an odd sight to behold. “Seems we both know how it goes to be broken, huh?”Picking up the button, he put it in the sash around his waist and hugged the bear tight. It was at least one comfort he could have in this place. Sitting down fully on the floor he was previously trying to clean up. It seemed that would have to wait now, he needed the comfort of the bear that was his only companion now since he had lost sight of the others, lost sight of many things.
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Antonio Fernández Carriedo
Fresh Meat
Pansexual.
Single.
25.
Played by Roma.
Offline.
"No se acuerda el cura de cuando fue sacristán"
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Post by Spain on Aug 22, 2014 23:51:58 GMT -6
Water was a curious thing.
During the long months of drought he'd experienced multiple times in the past, a single drop of rain, a single dark cloud blocking the perfect blue of the sky was more than just a welcome sight; it was a blessing, a promise of possibility for a new year of prosperity. It was a promise of food, of survival, of life. All things out there in the world needed water, and a nation or its representation were no exceptions to the rule. And with the recent years of global warming bringing record droughts back into the list of current issues to work out around his home, Antonio was reminded of the importance of water less than a handful of years ago.
And then there was the sea; so powerful and beautiful, and so utterly essential to trade both past and current. Oh, where would he be today had Demetrio - his dear little brother as he liked to refer to him as - not shown interest and skill when it came to sailing and ship-building. Where would he be had he not set sail towards the unknown and trusted his life to the sea for months on end? What would he have been without the Grande y Felicísima Armada? The Armada Invencible? Sure, the names brought an amused smile to his lips today - he really had wanted to emphasize how proud he was of the fleet when he'd named it, huh - but back then it had been no laughing matter, and all those that had faced him knew as much. Indeed, without the sea he would be poorer, smaller, and less influential. And for someone with as much lingering pride for recognition as Antonio, the mere thought brought a bad taste to his tongue. It was through the sea, through water that he had attained riches and expanded his empire.
But then water could... could do this.
Antonio's steps were slow and careful the lower in the manor he descended and the more apparent it became that a flood of some sort had raged where he stood now. The wallpaper was torn and furniture of all kinds was thrown about the hallway into piles of unrecognizable masses of wood and metal, and the soggy wood underneath the Spaniard's feet felt slippery and weak, liable to bend and break were he to take any sudden, powerful steps on its surface. The destruction was complete and, most horribly of all, familiar. The Mediterranean man had seen it before countless times and on a much larger scale. He'd walked the streets of Valencia many a time after the dozens of floods that had raged there and he'd picked up bodies and carried crying children on his southernmost coasts in the past. Flood was no stranger to him; it was a horrible enemy he'd fought multiple times during his life.
Walking among the wreckage felt heavy on his chest. The area was quiet like a cemetery, with no visible signs of life anywhere to be found, and it made Antonio wonder how many people the water had claimed. There were no bodies as far as he could see yet, and he didn't really smell death in the hallway he walked through, but the fear of turning around a corner and catching sight of a lifeless victim did not dissipate. Then there was the possibility someone was still trapped somewhere on the lower floors, possibly injured and alone. So as much as investigating the place hurt, Antonio knew he had to do it. It was his duty, he felt. He was the Boss, after all.
It was by pure chance that he happened upon the open door of the theater and peeked in to make sure nobody inside needed his help. At first glance, the area seemed just like every other room and corner he'd seen - wet and messy, with items destroyed and thrown about. But then, as the gaze of his green yes circled the room better, they caught sight of something he had yet to see in his investigation; movement, a sign of something - someone - being alive in the midst of all the silence and death. And as relief flooded the Spaniard's heart the way it always did when he found a survivor of a calamity, he slowly started to realize the man on his knees a little distance from his current standing place was... familiar, in all ways. No, more than just familiar, he should say. He was donning a costume Antonio had seen multiple times before, and the dark hair and muscular frame spoke volumes to him. It wasn't just someone he'd seen before; it was a man he'd lived most of his life with. A man he'd spent his childhood around, a man he'd suffered injustice with and... a man he'd done injustice to.
It was his brother. And he was sitting alone on the cold wet floor, holding a teddy bear tightly in his arms.
Now where had he seen that scene before?
Antonio shook his head, all the memories that threatened to spring up dissipating as he took a decisive step forward. Their past was long and complicated as were their relations, and they might have went from ally to enemy many a time - but to the Spaniard, Demetrio was forever his little brother, one he had wanted to control not only because of his pride and greed, but because there was no easier way to protect someone than having them close and obedient. It might have been the wrong way, but it would have been a lie to say that neither of them had thought about forming a union in their times of need as of recent. History was a funny thing, the present even funnier. But that didn't much matter now, huh?
"Portugal, mi hermano, what are you doing on the floor? It'll leave a nasty wet spot on your butt!" The Spaniard chimed in his usual tone, steps taking him steadily forward, closer to the man's back. He could faintly feel the atmosphere being rather heavy and sorrowful, but like usual he paid it little mind and kept his smile. Maybe, just maybe, it would catch on to the other man as well.
"Ay, you found a cute teddy?" Antonio asked as he stopped next to the other man, arms crossed and eyes curiously glancing at the teddy and its odd, missing eye. "Huy! It's broken, though... That's not good." He glanced around, humming to himself as if a knitting kit could just appear any second now. No such look, though. Aww...
"Then again," Antonio began as he realized fixing the eye would be difficult with the tools given, "Maybe it's okay the way it is. It's still cute. Reminds me of you~!" The Spaniard pointed a playful thumb at the scar over the man's eye, a tiny part of him rather guilty that he couldn't remember where the other had gotten it from. Was it from him? Was it from England? From the Netherlands? Brazil? Someone else? He never had... paid that much attention to his brother, had he. He'd just always assumed the man would be there when he looked to his right.
And well, perhaps there was some truth to that still; after all, Demetrio was one of the first he found after losing sight of everyone and waking up alone.
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Demetrio Fortuna
Fresh Meat
Heteroflexable.
22.
Played by Silv.
Offline.
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Post by Portugal on Sept 1, 2014 3:27:41 GMT -6
To think that all this destruction had been caused by water , it was almost unbelievable. Only the years he spent as sea and the results of the floods his country sometimes went through made him believe it. It was an engrained part of any sailor that the Sea, that any water really, was something to be respected, and yet at the same time feared. It only took the right conditions for a calm and serene sea to turn into a raging tempest that easily tossed the ship around like a rag doll. There had been many times where he had feared for the life of his crew. He knew that sometimes it was only the fact that they knew to tie themselves to the mast if they had to be on deck that kept them all alive when the water crashed over the side of the ship and soaked everything, pulling the barrels overboard while pouring into the ship through the grating. It had taken days to clean up from that mess all those decades and centuries ago, how long would it take to clean up this devastation left by the flood that only seemed to affect the house?
With a sigh, he couldn’t help but let his mind keep thinking about the old days, when there were signs to help anticipate the chance in the weather, but that wasn’t always possible. Sometimes it changed in an instant. He remembered shipwrecks and picking through the wreckage, enemy ships him or his brother had sent down to their grave. Of course these remains were what washed up after the sea had churned the pieces around and lapped them back up on the course beaches as if it was an everyday event. This thought alone almost brought a smile to his face as he hugged the bear tighter to him. One of the few times they weren’t getting along to well, he remembered ordering his men to shoot at his brothers ships in port, sinking or damaging most of them. That would always be a funny memory to him, watching his brothers face move through a myriad of emotions, rage to disbelief, to some emotion that Demetrio himself couldn’t place. But he didn’t care, it was worth it.
Hearing light footsteps behind him, he tensed his muscles, preparing for an attack, though he kept himself looking relax. One hand slowly started moving its way down his side and too his boot, wanting to at least get his hand close to his hidden dagger. If it where anywhere else, he wouldn’t bother. But here, here where there had been multiple shadows that danced just out of the corner of his vision, never coming into full sight for him to see, he wanted protection. Protection against those visions, protections against the things he heard clawing at walls and against doors; even screeching of something dragging down the glass of the windows. He needed protection from it all, but he knew he only had his dagger. Somehow, he had to find something else that could be used as a weapon. It was too bad he was sitting where he was and not elsewhere, for a quick look around out of his peripheral vision reveled nothing in reaching distance that could do damage to any creature.
"Portugal, mi hermano, what are you doing on the floor? It'll leave a nasty wet spot on your butt!"
With those first words, he knew immediately who it was; there was no doubt about it. The lack of taking in the atmosphere, though he sometimes did it himself, along with the cheery attitude could only be one person. It was his brother. Letting himself relax as his eye twitched once, he closed them and sagged against a chair behind him wouldn’t he ever learn what not to say?
“You have the worst sense ever irmão. Some things are more important than a wet spot on clothes.”
It was true; right now he could care less about the cold that was starting to seep in through his pants, the wet feeling that was his pants clinging to his skin when he had to shift some. This mess was more important, the cleanup process was more important. Coming to grips with this destruction inside out house that shouldn’t have been able to flood as bad as it did was important. Though knowing how Antonio thought, perhaps it was his attempt to get him to cheer up, get his mind off of the clothes that littered the seats or the books and wall sconces that hung waterlogged off the walls; this all was what Antonio was trying to distract him with. Turning his head around to look at him, it was entirely possible he was just as clueless as he sometimes could be and that really was the first thought in his head to say was about the wet spot on his butt and not the mess that was around them all. "Ay, you found a cute teddy? Huy! It's broken, though... That's not good."
Looking back down at the bear, he had to disagree. Yes the bear might have lost an eye, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was broken. It could still do stuff, like make people happy when they were sad, bring comfort when in pain. Being broken meant you couldn’t do what you were supposed to do, no matter how hard you tried. Though he had heard people comment on how rare it was to see him without the frown on his face. Though it wasn’t a frown, it was his natural expression, one that had the tendency for the corner of his lips to sink downward. Some people said he couldn’t smile, that he was unable to. He was, he just preferred to keep his face neutral most of the time. And something had to be really good to make him smile, even a little bit. He didn’t think this would make him broken, though, now that he thought about it, others might see it this way.
"Then again, maybe it's okay the way it is. It's still cute. Reminds me of you~!"
Looking up at his brother, he saw the thumb pointed at his own scared eye and could only frown. He wasn’t broken and neither was the bear. Just because he had a scar on his face didn’t make him less. He could still see, he could still fight, he could still do everything he was supposed to do, did it better than most people really. It was one thing he took pride in, doing everything to the best of his ability. With a sigh, he slowly stood up, the button slipping to the floor from where it escaped his sash and started rolling towards Antonio, stopping between the two. He could only watch it for a minute before eying his wayward brother.
“You’re lucky I don’t have anything to throw at your right now, I could give you a scar of your own and then we’d really match.”
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