Post by chillysbiggestfan on May 12, 2013 22:26:45 GMT -5
`SNEZANA BODNIA!
`YOU KNOW IM NOT MUCH BETTER WITHOUT YOU!
NICKNAMES Mađioničari // The Magician
AGE Eighteen
GENDER Female
ETHNICITY Serbian
GRADE Senior
SPECIAL ABILITY(s) Advanced Projection / Illusionist.
Is it real? Or is it fantasy? This is a question often asked when dealing with a very peculiar Serbian woman. Some mysterious, outer force is clearly at work, after all. Snezana has the unique ability to alter perception itself with a cunning mixture of sleight of hand, and something more, something frightful. The darker arts are present, though not preferred. One does not make many friends by projecting images into one's mind, after all. One merely turns themselves into a freak by making such things a habit. Even though she is more than capable of tuning her concentration into such projections; be them dark and twisted nightmares, or a wonderful, utopian, and overall interactive daydream.
Indeed, this is something that her abilities allow her to do, but this proves to be something she endeavors to not do, at least for a completely selfish agenda. There is a much stronger desire to produce shock in awe, from an entertainer's standpoint. (Not that kind you pervert) The idea of her powers being magical was more than enough to spark her interest within the arcane. ...Wizardy? not quite. Preferring the role of a magician, Snezana gets by on improvised street preforming, and eventually getting her own private shows. Creating these illusions using real magical forces, she naturally has the affinity to draw crowds.... For better or worse.
The mind is a game, and she chooses to be the one playing. Using prop and effects to bounce off of common stimuli, along with the otherwise boring limitations of her work, it creates quite the spectacle. Often times she lulls her enemies into a false sense of security with common tricks, but she always finishes strong.
As she is easily bored, there have been rumors of malicious works at play. Certain individuals had disappeared, and some legal complaints are currently being settled regarding some of her acts. Perhaps the show of a lifetime is not all that it's cracked up to be, after all? Regardless, having some controversy only helps her reputation in terms of sales. However, the state of how things exactly go is often disputed. Some take extra caution in becoming involved with her tricks at all.
On top of the ability to do parlor tricks, she can project actual illusions into the minds of those too weak-willed to resist. Even though this is most often used for innocent merriment, this has proven to be a useful tactic for stunning any opposition, by any means necessary. The illusions can cause no physical harm, but instead attack the mind. If the pen is mightier than the sword, than the mind is more powerful than anything else. Her greatest limitation is herself.
HOW DID THEY FIGURE OUT? Snezana was born into a wealthy family, but she was always different. Reports of her creating "unspeakable chaos" with those appointed to watch over her as a young child worried her parents to no end. Not a worry about their daughter, no, a worry about themselves. Having a daughter that did enough to scare people away seemed to be enough to permanently damage their own reputations. They begun to raise the young Snezana more as a solider, than that of their little girl. Even with the most strict of judgement and doctrines of "training", when she was unsupervised by her parents, the complaints continued. Eventually, Snezana was left alone outside of their village, and the parents spread false rumors that she had drowned, and even arranged a fake funeral.
After being abandoned by her bigot parents, Snezana was taken in by a Serbian minority, the Romani. Often referred to as gypsies, their reputation was very lowly presented, and Snezana was experienced to the cruelness of the world. People often times would throw things, and yell out the cruelest of names to her adoptive family, which now included her. Even though she grew to love the people her birth parents said were parasites; she never did feel as though she belonged. Especially since she saw things that others didn't.
It started small, seeing giant fists punch people she didn't like, or small, often humorous differences in the people around her. When she told stories to her new parents about how these things were ever increasing, they dismissed them as an overactive imagination, combined with the deprivation of being raised amongst minorities.
It was all dismissed as normal, to her. For years she attempted to ignore these odd visions, but they only seemed to happen more often. One day, it was different. Others began to see what she could. Little did she know that she was the one creating these images. Complaints were heard, and people quickly realized that she was the only one who wasn't freaked out. It didn't take long for a mob to form, and they wanted to purge her. Her new family caught first wind of this, and in a terribly difficult decision, they sent away their daughter with nothing more than a week's rations, and two sets of clothes. It was in this moment that Snezana knew there was something wrong with her.
[/ul]
`YOU STOLE MY HEART THEN YOU KICKED IT ASIDE!
Ф Entertaining others
It's her passion. Seeing others entertained is more important than anything else to Snezana, except keeping herself in the proper shape to be able to do it.
Ф Classical Music.
It soothes the soul, really. Woe to the days of mindless melodies, for the past hath the truest pleasures for thy ears.
Ф Money.
More than that it makes valuable purchases, it feels like a reward for what she does.
Ф Languages.
Even though most people don't speak her language, there is a reasonable probability that she speaks in theirs. Due to her circumstances as a child, she currently speaks, by some degree or another, Serbian, Russian Romani, Hungarian, Albanian, Romanian, Italian, English, and Slovak.
As impressive as this seems, she is only fluent in Serbian, Romani, and English.
Ф Šljivovica
She refuses to do a show or perform without having a small drink of the stuff. It's praised as the national drink of her country, and for good reason.
Ф Formal occasions
Appearance is very important. Appearing at high class events is the best way to attract people to the work one does, and how many people are gifted in such ways as she is?
Ф Individualism
It's easy to forget a face if the one bearing it proved uninteresting, after all. The more colourful the personality, the better.
Ф Flowers
Often used simply as a prop for her tricks, she often longs to run around a field of flowers. The smell must be heavenly.
Ф The crowd
There is nothing quite like the sound of cheering, or the uneasy silence during a more dangerous trick. It's one of the finer pleasures that she enjoys.
Ф Making friends
Being relatively of note, Snezana has many acquaintances. However, she secretly longs for more than that. She knows everybody in some circles, but she isn't necessarily close friends with anybody at all.
Ф Learning new tricks
A combination of traditional magic tricks, and those of her own creation create a balanced level of different levels and varying aspects of skill and mental fortitude needed to maintain her act. The show must go on.
Ф Gossip
She adores hearing about the various people who come to see her. The obtained information is more often innocent, and not usually intended for malicious uses, however...
Ф Humiliating critics
Snezana knows how to spot certain types of people. Even if her basic intuition is wrong, she knows how to get the information she needs. Hatemongers that cast vocalized doubts beware, for Snezana has an array of "Humiliation Tricks", using the naysayers as her "lovely assistants" to placate her despised view of such people.
"Watch, as I make this woman grow a full beard before your very eyes!"
Ф Props
If a picture is worth a thousand words, a well placed prop is worth a million. Even though she advertises her magic hands, she adores mixing up the same tricks with differing props to keep herself, and her fans from getting bored. Pulling a rabbit out of a hat is a pretty classical trick, but how about pulling a hat out of a rabbit? The little things can really spice things up.
Ф Foreign, spicy foods
Indian is the most popular. To her, each meal should pack enough punch from the first tasting, until the final satisfied gulp. After all, food is the one area of life that should never get boring.
Ф Improvised tactics
In any aspect, really. In her shows, she adores to make up tricks on the spot, even if the reception of obviously unrehearsed content can be pretty negative.
Ф Pranks
Not necessarily going all the way with her abilities, Snezana gets a kick out of tricking someone every now and then. Sometimes it can lead to great hilarity, but it has backfired before.
Ф Tennis
Athleticism at its finest. There isn't any other sport that really interests her, thus she only dedicates her time playing this one. Unfortunately, she doesn't have too much leisurely time
Ф Skeptics
Different from vocalized critics, skeptics are usually the ones that find the most joy and splendor from her act. This, however, is not always the case...
SNEZANA DISLIKES
Ж Racism
Her past greatly reflects this one. She refuses to tolerate such a thing.
Ж Bullying
The big are not made to make the small feel smaller. The large are not there to tower and laugh over cowering weaklings. It's wrong to distastefully bring someone down.
Ж Skeptics
Sometimes, a skeptic will take time to delay a trick by searching for nonexistent gimmicks or "secrets" to her work. She takes a deep pride in what she does and doesn't appreciate people not cooperating in the ways she wants. This also applies to people with tightened eyes softly whispering to one another whilst staring at her perform. It's both upsetting and distracting.
Ж Critics
Critics are very hurtful, and knowing they sometimes can frequent her shows and cast doubts can really kill her mood.
Ж Practicing
Practicing her tricks makes her feel inferior. She knows this is petty, but she doesn't want to lower herself to second class rehearsals.
Ж Studying
It's annoying enough to have to practice some advanced maneuvers, but to have to relearn the material she took the time to listen to once? It seems irrational, even if it works.
Ж Routines
These are boring. Sometimes there are exceptions to this rule, but she abhors being mentally bound and obliged to do just about anything unpleasant or potentially boring. She would much rather do things her own way, and perhaps bring some entertainment to a poor soul.
Ж Criticism
She can't handle criticism well, be it constructive or destructive. She's been known to go into a rage, or simply break down.
Ж Outer Space
Since the sixties, the attitude towards outer space has been said to have eclipsed the interest in magical performances by many. As bit of an assumption, Snezana resents those who stand for, or that find interest in such things that could potentially pull her audience away from her.
Ж Assisting others
She has a desire to be at the centre of attention. Being the help means you aren't the main component. If she could do it herself, she often can't be bothered to help others.
Ж Being ignored
She has a strong desire to be included in many things, even if she doesn't like to be considered a helper.
Ж Insults
Be them to her, or anyone really. If someone is willing to try, they should not be slandered for it. Instead, they should be respected for their diligence.
Ж Insects
They kind of creep her out, more than scare her. In her mind, most insects are simply filthy creatures that exist for little more than as a nuisance.
Ж Hot weather
Especially when she's wearing her signature uniform for performing. It gets hot in there!
Ж Sweating
The worst possible thing someone in her profession could do. Body odor is the worst thing for someone to remember you by, after all.
FEARS
Љ Rejection.
This is her greatest, and most secretive fear. If she is rejected at the one thing she feels strong at, it would hurt her more than any mugger ever could.
Љ Isolation.
More than isolation, she fears the path she is walking. To always be alone is worse than to be put in your grave.
QUIRKS
Ћ Easily bored.
It can be pretty hard to get Snezana interested in something, unless it's new or she catches on quickly. Alas, it's even harder to keep her interested.
Ћ Naturally charismatic
Even though she can be a jerk, she's still somehow pretty likable. Though, that doesn't mean she really has any friends. She's good at often making a good first impression, but most people see her as what she does, more than as a person.
OVERALL PERSONALITY[/b]
Calling Snezana a private person is akin to calling an orange orange in colour. Nobody seems to know much about her, but she goes out of her way to know as much about everyone else as possible. Even if she can get things mixed up from time to time. She's a very distant person when not performing, and first impressions are often mixed with regards to her. She shuts herself in, often incorporating rumors of her past among her peers. She's often talked about, even if she doesn't seem to care for much.
In reality, she sees others are judgemental and cruel. Even though she's likable, she doesn't really have anyone to impress, socially speaking. For a long time, the only one at her side had been herself, and she feels very independent as a result. Absolutely hating pity, she can almost sense when someone feels sorry for her. She hates being seen in any sense of negative light, but considers it the one of the greatest possible accomplishments to be looked upon as good.
Even though it's hard to tell how she's feeling, it's usually a sorrow. As much as she prides herself in being able to self-sustain, it is the result of such, that human need takes over and envelops her in a damning loneliness. The crushing feelings that she can only hold back for so long before they seem to change her.
Having no real friends, her greatest desire is to connect with people. Being almost a celebrity, this seems impossible to her. Most see her as her act, and not as a person. This greatly upsets her. This was not what she intended when she began to perform. She knows how to bring happiness, or to torment, but she's absolutely terrible in the social sense. As a child, she was shunned by many, but she wouldn't really want to talk about such things.
She has a temper, and can be quick to assume the worst in someone. Trust issues are a bit of a long running theme in her life, and she doesn't much care for putting her fate, or any part therein, into someone else's hands. She hates working in groups, mostly because she has insane standards for herself, and others don't often touch the tip. She's quick to take charge, and if someone isn't meeting her needs, she would quickly take over their position and finish, this only motivating her to get everything done faster. She isn't one to take all of the credit either. For this, if she is appointed the leader, she is respected deeply. Otherwise, she can be quite uncooperative. She does not work well as support.
Her mental and physical fortitude are high points, but she can be very blunt. This has caused a lot of tight friction in the past, and she has even failed classes before due to this. She has amazing potential, but she is extremely independent. Brought up with little to nothing, her sheer determination and effort had gotten her this far. For this, she trusts herself above everyone else, even her superiors. Not one to simply bark orders, she takes initiative herself.
She is really bad at staying still when her mind is on the prize. This can be selective, so things can be very mixed in regards to her. She's extremely serious about what she has passion for, and can outright ignore anything else. Her figure and athletic ability are also things she prides herself in. She can do a lot, even though those with powers in specific areas obviously surpass her. She can not fly, and so she relies on free running to get by. She can not lift things of a certain weight, or run as fast as everyone else, but she has learnt the proper techniques to maximize her potential for combative use.
As much as she hates practicing her magic, a hobby of training her body and mind is always welcome. She's not one to bound herself to conventionally accomplishing her tasks, although she respects the conventional treatment of her own body. Uncanny ability to act outside of common conventions in regards of transporting packages, herself, or accomplishing otherwise dull assignments, she challenges herself to go out to do most things in the most unique sense, and to do it quickly (most of the time). She doesn't much care for the concept of time, and only hurries herself when she feels something will bore her. If she's late, it's merely that she had a good time getting somewhere.
It is because of all of these aspects that she is unfit for organized activity in groups. She considers herself her only enemy, and her own limitations as her greatest weaknesses. Being a burden to herself is unacceptable, and thus she would rather suffer than ask for help.
Her schedule is packed, and she enjoys it. There has never really been any time for too much of the things she originally intended to do when coming to the academy. Rather, she has forgotten her original goals and dreams, as they were replaced by many new ones, some of which have also been cast aside and forgotten. She isn't out to impress anyone but herself, and she even has come to the realization that this is simply an impossible feat.
She understands that everyone has weakness, but she despises that people don't always push to surpass themselves. She finds this reasonable, being that many are a part of this way of thinking, but it is something that she takes into account when choices get tough. She would rather leave a healthy comrade for dead, without what she considers the proper sense of purpose, than a wounded comrade who would likely only use the injury as a motivation. Her mentality is difficult for others to decipher, but it is the only way of function, in her own mind.
She hardly gets any time for sleep, with her shows, and other practice. She always finds the time to watch or play tennis twice a week, and has been known to outright cancel her highly advertised shows to do it. Some call her selfish, but she's simply determined.
More than anything else, she wants her last year to branch out and to be socially forthcoming. There are a lot of people out there, and she finally wants to meet them. Knowing about someone doesn't mean you've gotten to actually know them at all. It's a new year for her, and this is a new horizon she wishes to cross. To have someone to be able to listen to her for once. She doesn't even know what she wants to say, but she knows she has to say it regardless. Her only complaint is her loneliness. In her mind, making a friend of two would be the best thing for her. And maybe, she'll even get to hug someone for the first time.[/ul]
`WHEN HES INSIDE YOU KNOW THERES NO ROOM FOR ME!
[/font]This whole charade was quickly fading. In the back of her mind, Snezana would continue to picture the flag of Serbia waving, with those she once looked to for advice and support, awaiting her. It was a blurry, fuzzy image that felt as though it was gradually coming clear into focus. What did this mean, and why now? She had not the means, or the proper state of mind to even attempt to dissect these lucid visions. Simply, she focused her efforts on the matter at hand. As this would be her grand crescendo; the end of all ends. Her time was drawing short, and she knew it.
The idea of killing was revolting enough in itself. Life was supposed to be precious, something valued and shared. There was a time where things seemed like they were finally going to get better, but they never did. Those around her never truly realized who she was, or what she really had to offer. They all kept their thoughts to themselves, and when they did share it was never anything good. The people of her past were mostly dead, an odd mixture of newer and old countries. he never wanted things to change; she was content when she was able to protect everyone she loved, and when she had the Empire to back it up.
Empire... The term that had become a staple of many egotistical nations. The word that simply meant in some cases that a reasonably sized territory had an affluence of stubbornness, and an immeasurable number of coffers filled completely with pride. The value of the word that caused men to kill one another, without remorse or even a care in the long term consequences. Indeed, the Austrian, Ottoman, Mughal, as well as the Roman and Greek empires were mighty and commanded much force. However, Serbia always wanted more than power or conquest, even if her own ego was swelling. The issue with her legacy, and most aspects of her life, was that those around her never seemed to become placated. Everyone did wrong, and everyone held their childish grudges.
The whole world had been detestable since Serbia had taken into power. It felt unfair. Atrocious actions from everyone around her, the people she loved and cared for that had come to hate her so. They tried to kill her, convert her, steal from her, and punish her for the little, insignificant things that she had done, her minute mistakes. She did not understand those around her, they were all selfish and cruel. Even now, being forced into another situation that she didn't want to get involved with, it was all a horrible scenario playing out. Perhaps, it was simply the nature of man, woman, and nations alike.
Throughout it all, Snezana had no intention to kill in this fight. Without any sense of motivation, and nothing to look forward to, conflict at all was the very definition of fruitless. Her true intentions always seemed to be elusive, and almost devious. She was not very good with conveying her words, and she would more often than not hide her inner strength. Her incredible ability, all masked away for reasons unknown, as the cunning Serbia held her sacred values with an utmost sense of secrecy. It had been that way, ever since that fateful day, so long ago.
December 20th, 1355. Prizren, the capital of the Serbian Empire. Palman, Snezana Bodnia, and various other nobles of the Serbian court, all gathered together to talk about the rising Ottoman Empire, and their plans to counter their advance, with Serbia being one of the first obstacles to their path to European conquest. The people were split on what they wanted to do, and some even were questioning the decisions of Stephen Dušan, the mighty ruler of the Serbian Empire. With him ill, Serbia took it upon herself to speak in his stead.
"Yes. We must defeat the Ottoman Empire. Our plans are already being put into place, and we shall counter them soon."
"That's insane! Their army far outmatches the strength our own. Fighting the Ottomans in a full campaign would ruin the stability of our lands. You call yourself Serbian Orthodox but you bark like a dog to humor the Catholic Pope!"
"Hold your tongue, if you have any sense at all. This woman is much more significant to this Empire than you could ever understand. She speaks behalf of our ruler."
"And just who the hell are you? You look like you're dead, and you speak with a German accent, but you dare to enter this council and defend this rubbish?!"
"My name is Palman. I was born with a lip and palate disorder, but that speaks nothing of my character, mind you. I am a long-time server of Serbia, and of her people. I may be Germanic but I have done more for Serbia than you ever have. I fear the future of these lands, with people like you around to call yourselves noble. And then there's me, a mere mercenary, trusted more than your lot. This is a detestable state of affairs, ja. Show some respect."
"Why fight a war we can't afford, and we can't win! There is nothing to gain in attacking the Ottoman Empire! We should use diplomatic means to keep them away instead! Yeah, that's the solution! We don't have to lose anyone at all! Haha!"
"...The Serbian people will defeat the Ottoman Empire because they bring conflict to the land. If we don't get involved now, the wars will be brought to us. They aren't simply going to leave us be. We are not of their faith, and that is enough reason to invade us. To keep the people of Serbia in safety, we will uproot the source of this conflict. There is no diplomacy in this... There's not anything we can do but... ...You ...You are... You're an... Idiot. WE FIGHT FOR THE BETTERING AND SAFETY OF OUR PEOPLE! WHAT OTHER REASON DO WE NEED?!"
Overcome by her emotions, Serbia looked down, and covered her face with her hands. There was no right answer. The Ottomans had unbelievable numbers, and she was heavily outnumbered, even with her allies. There was little option but to try and take the fight to them, as an attempt to save lives. They had to rely on the brillance of Dušan, his strategies were the last hope in saving her people from suffering and oppression under the rule of such savage foreigners. Her emotions were swelling, and the last thing she wanted was for the discontent to spread, she wanted to give the people a reliable answer, to prove her worth.
"...I'm sorry... I just... I..."
So suddenly as she had begun her apology, a man burst into the rooms of the chamber. His expression was weary, he had been running for some time. Wearing the imperial insignia on his armor, it was no doubt that this man was a messenger. And his fatigued expression did not seem to bode well. Shaking in his armor, he took a moment to rejuvenate his lost energy, not bothered by the awkwardness of the situation he was in, not in the very least.
"I... I bring terrible news... ...My... My lady... The great... The Mighty Ruler... Our Lord Stephan Dušan has died..."
"...wha...what..."
"Poisoned... By unknown men... An investigation is in progress, but we may never know who has done this..."
A horrid silence overtook the room. Slowly, Snezana moved her arms from covering her eyes. She looked on in a state of disbelief. This was the worst possible situation. Everyone was staring at her, as if she knew what to do. As if she ever knew what to do. War was bad enough, but to lose one's grand leader was too much a burden. The sorrow swelled within Serbia. With her vision blurring, she stood from her chamber's seat. The round table around her, all of the nobles were watching on, confused. Her steps were lagged, and her vision was fading more and more. She walked slowly over to a corner, as if to hide in shame. It took every fiber of her being, simply to hold back her tears. She was quickly unwinding.
"...Stephen... Stephen is... is... No... He's.. ...dead... no... Not yet... ...no... Not yet, Stephen... No... I... Ugh... Ugh... NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
She was broken, and she was furious. She unsheathed her precious basket-hilted sword, and she collapsed to her knees. Screaming bloodcurdling swears and heartrending language unknown to any foreign to such pains, she hysterically stabbed her sword into the walls, over and over again. She had lost her sense of control, and everyone was watching her break down. She didn't care. It wasn't a concern what they thought, they didn't fully understand the consequences of this premature change in plans. She was going to lose the majority of her forces, of herself. Just as the holes in the wall were broadening with each stab, just as her screams echoed into the streets, was the long turmoil of the next generation coming into fruition. All that she had fought so hard to protect, was lost in the blink of an eye. Palman, Dušan's most trusted of officers, as well as the other nobles, attempted to restrain the deranged Serb. But she turned the sword against them, and told them to stay away, as tears fell down her face. She had to get out these horrible feelings, before they cost people their lives. This was the moment in which she decided that she would keep her feelings to herself in the days to come. Overcome by her sorrow, she had just enough sanity to make this promise to herself. That she would never again feel this way. She pledged that this would be the last time that she ever lost her cool like this again.
June 15, 1389. The fields of Kosovo. Once filled with laughter and romance, now engulfed in a sea of conflict and flames. They were all dead. Everyone she had promised to protect had died, all of her close followers and loyal retainers. Just a week ago, they all were drinking merrily and promising of a safe return. And now the rich lands and fertile fields resembled the current state of the empire. It was charred, and desolate. She was indeed losing her influence, and her power was dwindling. Her promise, to return to these fields after the battle and celebrate with her friends and countrymen, was but a mere illusion. Throughout the conflict, many people on both ends met their end, including the Sultan, Murad I. He was a noble foe, much unlike the rumors and lies spread by those in which he'd defeated. It took the last of her resources to deny him her lands. She stood over her fallen foe, and covered his body with the Ottoman Flag, borrowed from a fallen flagbearer.
"Murad... Your prowess, your legendary might, and your loyalty until the very end... This all will go down in history, and you will be revered as a hero... But I hated you with every fiber of my being... You took Lazar Hrebeljanović, the Order of the Dragon, and all of my noblemen... You were an excellent commander... But it's over... Dušan, Lazar... I've done all I can..."
The battle at Kosovo ended in a stalemate. Later historians would pin this battle as the end of Serbian resistance to Ottoman conquest. They fought against an army much larger than their own, and they held their own. Almost every figure of note in the battle had perished, including both the leaders of Serbia, as well as the Sultan of Ottoman Turkey. This battle would later be known as the most significant day in all of Serbian history.
Suddenly, she began to feel Mexico mutilating her already injured wrist in unspeakable ways. It was funny, Serbia wondered where she was, for a moment. She was losing her ability to tell reality from memory, and her sense of time also felt to be distorted. How long were they here? She thought that she was free, but was only seeing visions of the past. And that's all they were. Was this what it was like? To die? To have to endure the painful events all over again? Tears fell from her eyes at the torture she was being put through, mentally and physically. The pain was unbearable, but she held in the urge to scream, to show her weakness again. She would not violate another promise with such a short time left. She would die with dignity. Biting her lips so hard that blood was dripping, she felt the cool steel of Mexico's rusty machete pierce into her flesh.
Looking down at her wound, she felt sick to her stomach. The pain hadn't even set in before she turned her head to the side, and vomited all over her tennis racquet. There was a hint of blood mixed into it, but she wasn't going to die, at least not instantly. She looked into the eyes of her foe, and noted the change. She was different, than she was before. Her fierceness seemed to know no bounds, and her force was unparalleled. Despite it being brutal, and inhumane, there was a charm to her. Coughing and gasping, a suffering Serbia attempted to place together her final words.
"Ha... You're actually quite a warrior... Meksiko... Even this horrible situation couldn't break... Your resolve...
Haha... It just made you all the more willing to fight for what you believe in... Without causing everyone to hate you for it... Like they did with me... I wish I could have ever been... so charismatic...
I wanted nothing more than to see the world I dreamt of with my family... To escape from here... With Kosovo... And Monaco... And... You... everyone together...
I didn't want to... I didn't want to let down Kosovo... Like this... To die here... It will only bring him more pain... I promised I wouldn't betray him... That I wouldn't prove insufficient... I wouldn't be the Serbia who only ever thought of herself... And I won't... I won't fail my dear promise...
I'm still... I'm protecting him... From what I would become... If I killed someone like... Like you... Someone so kind and sweet... Even though... It doesn't exactly look like it now...
I just wish... I wish had more time.... More time to say what I've kept inside for so long... To say the things he never heard... I don't remember the last time that I told him I loved him... I don't remember if I ever have before...
All of the things that will just become relics of a forgotten history... Nobody wants me around anymore... So in a way... Everyone wins...
Mexico... Please... I ask you hear me out here... I don't have anyone else that... That I can trust with this...
My final... My last wish that... That you'll... Please take care of Kosovo... In your own way. He isn't ready to be on his own... Not yet... You know as well as I do he isn't...
He isn't ready to see that this world is able to turn his smiles into tears again... That his so-called friends would just... Just turn on him for the gains of the short-term... As soon as he does something that doesn't suit them...
Mexico... I'm trusting you... With this all... Because nobody else... Nobody else ever cared to listen... They only turned against me, one by one... Everyone I loved and raised... They're all... Well you know...
Hah... I thought that... That you were crazy when I first met you... That you were going to fall apart and collapse under the weight of the burdens. you have... That you wouldn't make it through... But... But when I saw how happy you made those around you, I understood deep down inside of myself... And to see your face here... I understood that this was the necessary end to this fight, even before it began...
Hah... If I know you at all.. You're even a little excited by this prospect... To lead Kosovo in my place. But... My time here is over. I have to fulfill another promise... The promise... To meet them all again in celebration...
Mother... Did I... Did I make you proud?
My King... My ruler... Stephen Dušan... I lost you so soon... But... Selfishly, I ask anyway... Was this the Great Serbia you expected of me..?
Hah... Lazar Hrebeljanović... That promise to meet again... With... My fallen comrades back from... From that battle in Kosovo... I can finally do this... And... I can finally tell them all I'm sorry...
And... Astrit Zupan... Kosovo... My brother... I'll have to teach you how to make Gibanica another day... "
She stood there, smiling, of all things. She was ready. She was unable to speak another word, but she had finally opened up, after hundreds of years of shutting herself in. This Mexico, she would strive to greatness, for sure. While there was no time for lamenting, Serbia regretted being unable to see the future that she would create with her dearest brother. She regretted not tucking him in every night, and she regretted losing him. She regretted a lot, but she had little time for such things. Her ideals had caused her to lose her own life, and she couldn't help but wonder if that was a good thing. Were her ideals outdated, and was this all just a big waste of her talents? It was unknown. Her body felt colder by the second, and her vision once more shifted into a blur. With the last of her strength, she brushed a hand across Mexico's cheek, and gave a smile with a nod.
She could see it, the distant phantoms of her friends. They were calling out to her, and she wanted to run towards them. Her body was shaking slightly, but she refused to fall. If this was her final moment, she would in the very least die with a proper dignity. As she pictured herself walking into the sunset with her friends, tears fell from her eyes, as she died firmly standing tall. This was her final defiance. She would not give the inhabitants the joy, the satisfaction of seeing her physically collapse to the ground. She would go on her own terms. Thus, the death match between Serbia and Mexico concluded on a high note, as Snezana had remembered one last thing she had said so long ago in the precious moments before her death.
The idea of killing was revolting enough in itself. Life was supposed to be precious, something valued and shared. There was a time where things seemed like they were finally going to get better, but they never did. Those around her never truly realized who she was, or what she really had to offer. They all kept their thoughts to themselves, and when they did share it was never anything good. The people of her past were mostly dead, an odd mixture of newer and old countries. he never wanted things to change; she was content when she was able to protect everyone she loved, and when she had the Empire to back it up.
Empire... The term that had become a staple of many egotistical nations. The word that simply meant in some cases that a reasonably sized territory had an affluence of stubbornness, and an immeasurable number of coffers filled completely with pride. The value of the word that caused men to kill one another, without remorse or even a care in the long term consequences. Indeed, the Austrian, Ottoman, Mughal, as well as the Roman and Greek empires were mighty and commanded much force. However, Serbia always wanted more than power or conquest, even if her own ego was swelling. The issue with her legacy, and most aspects of her life, was that those around her never seemed to become placated. Everyone did wrong, and everyone held their childish grudges.
The whole world had been detestable since Serbia had taken into power. It felt unfair. Atrocious actions from everyone around her, the people she loved and cared for that had come to hate her so. They tried to kill her, convert her, steal from her, and punish her for the little, insignificant things that she had done, her minute mistakes. She did not understand those around her, they were all selfish and cruel. Even now, being forced into another situation that she didn't want to get involved with, it was all a horrible scenario playing out. Perhaps, it was simply the nature of man, woman, and nations alike.
Throughout it all, Snezana had no intention to kill in this fight. Without any sense of motivation, and nothing to look forward to, conflict at all was the very definition of fruitless. Her true intentions always seemed to be elusive, and almost devious. She was not very good with conveying her words, and she would more often than not hide her inner strength. Her incredible ability, all masked away for reasons unknown, as the cunning Serbia held her sacred values with an utmost sense of secrecy. It had been that way, ever since that fateful day, so long ago.
December 20th, 1355. Prizren, the capital of the Serbian Empire. Palman, Snezana Bodnia, and various other nobles of the Serbian court, all gathered together to talk about the rising Ottoman Empire, and their plans to counter their advance, with Serbia being one of the first obstacles to their path to European conquest. The people were split on what they wanted to do, and some even were questioning the decisions of Stephen Dušan, the mighty ruler of the Serbian Empire. With him ill, Serbia took it upon herself to speak in his stead.
"Yes. We must defeat the Ottoman Empire. Our plans are already being put into place, and we shall counter them soon."
"That's insane! Their army far outmatches the strength our own. Fighting the Ottomans in a full campaign would ruin the stability of our lands. You call yourself Serbian Orthodox but you bark like a dog to humor the Catholic Pope!"
"Hold your tongue, if you have any sense at all. This woman is much more significant to this Empire than you could ever understand. She speaks behalf of our ruler."
"And just who the hell are you? You look like you're dead, and you speak with a German accent, but you dare to enter this council and defend this rubbish?!"
"My name is Palman. I was born with a lip and palate disorder, but that speaks nothing of my character, mind you. I am a long-time server of Serbia, and of her people. I may be Germanic but I have done more for Serbia than you ever have. I fear the future of these lands, with people like you around to call yourselves noble. And then there's me, a mere mercenary, trusted more than your lot. This is a detestable state of affairs, ja. Show some respect."
"Why fight a war we can't afford, and we can't win! There is nothing to gain in attacking the Ottoman Empire! We should use diplomatic means to keep them away instead! Yeah, that's the solution! We don't have to lose anyone at all! Haha!"
"...The Serbian people will defeat the Ottoman Empire because they bring conflict to the land. If we don't get involved now, the wars will be brought to us. They aren't simply going to leave us be. We are not of their faith, and that is enough reason to invade us. To keep the people of Serbia in safety, we will uproot the source of this conflict. There is no diplomacy in this... There's not anything we can do but... ...You ...You are... You're an... Idiot. WE FIGHT FOR THE BETTERING AND SAFETY OF OUR PEOPLE! WHAT OTHER REASON DO WE NEED?!"
Overcome by her emotions, Serbia looked down, and covered her face with her hands. There was no right answer. The Ottomans had unbelievable numbers, and she was heavily outnumbered, even with her allies. There was little option but to try and take the fight to them, as an attempt to save lives. They had to rely on the brillance of Dušan, his strategies were the last hope in saving her people from suffering and oppression under the rule of such savage foreigners. Her emotions were swelling, and the last thing she wanted was for the discontent to spread, she wanted to give the people a reliable answer, to prove her worth.
"...I'm sorry... I just... I..."
So suddenly as she had begun her apology, a man burst into the rooms of the chamber. His expression was weary, he had been running for some time. Wearing the imperial insignia on his armor, it was no doubt that this man was a messenger. And his fatigued expression did not seem to bode well. Shaking in his armor, he took a moment to rejuvenate his lost energy, not bothered by the awkwardness of the situation he was in, not in the very least.
"I... I bring terrible news... ...My... My lady... The great... The Mighty Ruler... Our Lord Stephan Dušan has died..."
"...wha...what..."
"Poisoned... By unknown men... An investigation is in progress, but we may never know who has done this..."
A horrid silence overtook the room. Slowly, Snezana moved her arms from covering her eyes. She looked on in a state of disbelief. This was the worst possible situation. Everyone was staring at her, as if she knew what to do. As if she ever knew what to do. War was bad enough, but to lose one's grand leader was too much a burden. The sorrow swelled within Serbia. With her vision blurring, she stood from her chamber's seat. The round table around her, all of the nobles were watching on, confused. Her steps were lagged, and her vision was fading more and more. She walked slowly over to a corner, as if to hide in shame. It took every fiber of her being, simply to hold back her tears. She was quickly unwinding.
"...Stephen... Stephen is... is... No... He's.. ...dead... no... Not yet... ...no... Not yet, Stephen... No... I... Ugh... Ugh... NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
She was broken, and she was furious. She unsheathed her precious basket-hilted sword, and she collapsed to her knees. Screaming bloodcurdling swears and heartrending language unknown to any foreign to such pains, she hysterically stabbed her sword into the walls, over and over again. She had lost her sense of control, and everyone was watching her break down. She didn't care. It wasn't a concern what they thought, they didn't fully understand the consequences of this premature change in plans. She was going to lose the majority of her forces, of herself. Just as the holes in the wall were broadening with each stab, just as her screams echoed into the streets, was the long turmoil of the next generation coming into fruition. All that she had fought so hard to protect, was lost in the blink of an eye. Palman, Dušan's most trusted of officers, as well as the other nobles, attempted to restrain the deranged Serb. But she turned the sword against them, and told them to stay away, as tears fell down her face. She had to get out these horrible feelings, before they cost people their lives. This was the moment in which she decided that she would keep her feelings to herself in the days to come. Overcome by her sorrow, she had just enough sanity to make this promise to herself. That she would never again feel this way. She pledged that this would be the last time that she ever lost her cool like this again.
June 15, 1389. The fields of Kosovo. Once filled with laughter and romance, now engulfed in a sea of conflict and flames. They were all dead. Everyone she had promised to protect had died, all of her close followers and loyal retainers. Just a week ago, they all were drinking merrily and promising of a safe return. And now the rich lands and fertile fields resembled the current state of the empire. It was charred, and desolate. She was indeed losing her influence, and her power was dwindling. Her promise, to return to these fields after the battle and celebrate with her friends and countrymen, was but a mere illusion. Throughout the conflict, many people on both ends met their end, including the Sultan, Murad I. He was a noble foe, much unlike the rumors and lies spread by those in which he'd defeated. It took the last of her resources to deny him her lands. She stood over her fallen foe, and covered his body with the Ottoman Flag, borrowed from a fallen flagbearer.
"Murad... Your prowess, your legendary might, and your loyalty until the very end... This all will go down in history, and you will be revered as a hero... But I hated you with every fiber of my being... You took Lazar Hrebeljanović, the Order of the Dragon, and all of my noblemen... You were an excellent commander... But it's over... Dušan, Lazar... I've done all I can..."
The battle at Kosovo ended in a stalemate. Later historians would pin this battle as the end of Serbian resistance to Ottoman conquest. They fought against an army much larger than their own, and they held their own. Almost every figure of note in the battle had perished, including both the leaders of Serbia, as well as the Sultan of Ottoman Turkey. This battle would later be known as the most significant day in all of Serbian history.
Suddenly, she began to feel Mexico mutilating her already injured wrist in unspeakable ways. It was funny, Serbia wondered where she was, for a moment. She was losing her ability to tell reality from memory, and her sense of time also felt to be distorted. How long were they here? She thought that she was free, but was only seeing visions of the past. And that's all they were. Was this what it was like? To die? To have to endure the painful events all over again? Tears fell from her eyes at the torture she was being put through, mentally and physically. The pain was unbearable, but she held in the urge to scream, to show her weakness again. She would not violate another promise with such a short time left. She would die with dignity. Biting her lips so hard that blood was dripping, she felt the cool steel of Mexico's rusty machete pierce into her flesh.
Looking down at her wound, she felt sick to her stomach. The pain hadn't even set in before she turned her head to the side, and vomited all over her tennis racquet. There was a hint of blood mixed into it, but she wasn't going to die, at least not instantly. She looked into the eyes of her foe, and noted the change. She was different, than she was before. Her fierceness seemed to know no bounds, and her force was unparalleled. Despite it being brutal, and inhumane, there was a charm to her. Coughing and gasping, a suffering Serbia attempted to place together her final words.
"Ha... You're actually quite a warrior... Meksiko... Even this horrible situation couldn't break... Your resolve...
Haha... It just made you all the more willing to fight for what you believe in... Without causing everyone to hate you for it... Like they did with me... I wish I could have ever been... so charismatic...
I wanted nothing more than to see the world I dreamt of with my family... To escape from here... With Kosovo... And Monaco... And... You... everyone together...
I didn't want to... I didn't want to let down Kosovo... Like this... To die here... It will only bring him more pain... I promised I wouldn't betray him... That I wouldn't prove insufficient... I wouldn't be the Serbia who only ever thought of herself... And I won't... I won't fail my dear promise...
I'm still... I'm protecting him... From what I would become... If I killed someone like... Like you... Someone so kind and sweet... Even though... It doesn't exactly look like it now...
I just wish... I wish had more time.... More time to say what I've kept inside for so long... To say the things he never heard... I don't remember the last time that I told him I loved him... I don't remember if I ever have before...
All of the things that will just become relics of a forgotten history... Nobody wants me around anymore... So in a way... Everyone wins...
Mexico... Please... I ask you hear me out here... I don't have anyone else that... That I can trust with this...
My final... My last wish that... That you'll... Please take care of Kosovo... In your own way. He isn't ready to be on his own... Not yet... You know as well as I do he isn't...
He isn't ready to see that this world is able to turn his smiles into tears again... That his so-called friends would just... Just turn on him for the gains of the short-term... As soon as he does something that doesn't suit them...
Mexico... I'm trusting you... With this all... Because nobody else... Nobody else ever cared to listen... They only turned against me, one by one... Everyone I loved and raised... They're all... Well you know...
Hah... I thought that... That you were crazy when I first met you... That you were going to fall apart and collapse under the weight of the burdens. you have... That you wouldn't make it through... But... But when I saw how happy you made those around you, I understood deep down inside of myself... And to see your face here... I understood that this was the necessary end to this fight, even before it began...
Hah... If I know you at all.. You're even a little excited by this prospect... To lead Kosovo in my place. But... My time here is over. I have to fulfill another promise... The promise... To meet them all again in celebration...
Mother... Did I... Did I make you proud?
My King... My ruler... Stephen Dušan... I lost you so soon... But... Selfishly, I ask anyway... Was this the Great Serbia you expected of me..?
Hah... Lazar Hrebeljanović... That promise to meet again... With... My fallen comrades back from... From that battle in Kosovo... I can finally do this... And... I can finally tell them all I'm sorry...
And... Astrit Zupan... Kosovo... My brother... I'll have to teach you how to make Gibanica another day... "
She stood there, smiling, of all things. She was ready. She was unable to speak another word, but she had finally opened up, after hundreds of years of shutting herself in. This Mexico, she would strive to greatness, for sure. While there was no time for lamenting, Serbia regretted being unable to see the future that she would create with her dearest brother. She regretted not tucking him in every night, and she regretted losing him. She regretted a lot, but she had little time for such things. Her ideals had caused her to lose her own life, and she couldn't help but wonder if that was a good thing. Were her ideals outdated, and was this all just a big waste of her talents? It was unknown. Her body felt colder by the second, and her vision once more shifted into a blur. With the last of her strength, she brushed a hand across Mexico's cheek, and gave a smile with a nod.
She could see it, the distant phantoms of her friends. They were calling out to her, and she wanted to run towards them. Her body was shaking slightly, but she refused to fall. If this was her final moment, she would in the very least die with a proper dignity. As she pictured herself walking into the sunset with her friends, tears fell from her eyes, as she died firmly standing tall. This was her final defiance. She would not give the inhabitants the joy, the satisfaction of seeing her physically collapse to the ground. She would go on her own terms. Thus, the death match between Serbia and Mexico concluded on a high note, as Snezana had remembered one last thing she had said so long ago in the precious moments before her death.
'My inner-most strength and wisdom, I devote this all to those in which I love.'
`YOU LIFT ME UP AND THEN YOU THROW ME BACK DOWN!
NICKNAMES Xusha, you guys call me Serbie and that's fine by me.
WHERE CAN WE CONTACT YOU? Under or in Mexi's bed.
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? A wizard did it.
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