Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Dec 29, 2015 20:29:46 GMT -8
Reserving Vash again, will revamp his app though so stay tuned.
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Jun 16, 2015 15:46:40 GMT -8
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Jun 5, 2015 8:15:55 GMT -8
Welcome back, Amy <333
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Jun 1, 2015 14:35:18 GMT -8
It's a natural reaction to gasp for breath, to hold onto it possessively the moment one can take one. That is the body's natural reaction to rising to higher altitudes. However, to survive at higher elevations, one must take deeper, slower breaths. That was one of the few things Tante Bettina had told him as she took him to St. Goar's School for the Bright, which lay atop a mountain overlooking Bern. Upon his first day at St. Goar's, he panted unlike before.
Inefficient. Utterly inefficient.
"How was that?"
The difference between eating and not eating. The trainee had some potential, definitely. A huge improvement. But that wasn't going to suffice. He wasn't going to approve sending her into the field with the slight chance that the last shot was luck. He crossed his arms and nodded, without any sign of approval.
"Again."
That was all he had to say. He learned from a cruel woman that you should never give your approval to anyone unless they grovel for it. And even then, you have to kick them to the curb until they beg for forgiveness for ever asking you for your approval.
He put Lieder down and grabbed his rifle again, feeling for the etching on the barrel. It was simply very uncharacteristic of him to allow a single scratch upon any of his firearms. If he were to accidentally drop any of his firearms, he would immediately take the weapon to MI6's weaponry maintenance department for repair, or he would repair it himself immediately. It bothered him to have left the etching on the barrel. To him, it marred the beauty of the weapon every time he examined it closely and polished it.
But he couldn't bring himself to repair the barrel of this rifle.
He knew it.
She knew it.
It was a stupid attachment. He should have had her begging at his feet for forgiveness or an explanation. He should have had her on her knees, saddened by her wrongs.
But she never liked begging for forgiveness or backing down, now did she?
He poured himself a glass of wine, swished the wine glass for good measure, took in the scent of Château Mouton Rothschild, and gave it a sip. She wasn't a big fan of wine. In fact, she laughed at his choice of Gerard Bertrand Grenache Rose that night at the Irish Lady...
He touched the etching on the barrel, feeling it like a scar on his body. She had started it, he reasoned. She, giddy as a school girl, started to scratch it in like lovers scratching their initials on a tree trunk.
And he wasn't going to throw away a perfectly good rifle, now was he?
He was knocked out of that line of thought with another resounding shot, barely hitting the edge of the target. He shook his head at this point.
"Your form, Notonegoro. Take a break." |
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on May 31, 2015 17:41:22 GMT -8
...Whoop, I never replied to this.
But I think some drama involving Mari is in order, yes?
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Apr 30, 2015 7:03:39 GMT -8
Eyyyy I'm so up for a past relationship with Vash and Nico. We could do a present thread. Let's plot how she left... and what her persona was at the time e ue
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Feb 19, 2015 19:25:51 GMT -8
HE LEARNED HOW TO DANCE FOR STRICTLY BUSINESS PURPOSES. If there was anything that truly irritated him, it was he fact that Carmen had a bad habit of being late. Nesia as well, but if you were to account the relative degree of severity in tardiness, Carmen was definitely the biggest offender. Sometimes, he wondered whether it was worth it to arrive at his customary fifteen minute grace period. It wasn't as if he had to prepare anything of any sort, after all.
"Er... good morning, Mr. Zwingli," she greeted.
"Morgan," he grunted, still unamused by the prospect of today's proceedings.
"Were you waiting for Ms. Carriedo? She borrowed this for... erm, a training session. She will arrive soon, I believe," she said, seeming a bit in disbelief that Vash was here in the first place. And in truth, Vash was surprised that he was even here in the first place. He had somehow allowed Carmen to convince him to come as a demonstrative partner in an effort to teach dance to the less Latin dance-literate agents in MI6. Even if he perhaps wasn't the best dancer, nor was he the ideal partner in terms of chemistry. If there was one thing he learned through partner dancing classes he had taken as a trainee, it was that dances look better when the two participants have chemistry. They say dance is the point where souls touch, and unfortunately, he rarely let his soul make contact with other souls. Not that he wasn't half bad when he danced with Aoife. But he's never going to dance like that again, now is he?
"Of course she will. If your definition of soon is thirty minutes late," he grumbled, his arms crossed, his eyes to the mirror on the other side of the room. He certainly wasn't a stranger to dancing in this room. In fact, he had danced with Carmen before in this very room. Given that they often were charged with the task of training lower to mid-rank operatives, this was a course they seemed to have to take on from time to time, especially with the fact that people rarely learn how to social dance in this day and age.
He looked towards Nesia. Did she have any experience in the art of social dance? She didn't seem like the type... but it was a possibility. After all, she seemed to have a day job or two. He wasn't quite sure what her day job was, nor was he sure if she kept the same day job for long, but perhaps one of her day jobs was being a dance instructor. She was starting to really take on her role as an agent as they dropped her into more party scenes, and from the last operation review log, it seemed that she was even able to deal with a confrontation with a man who is suspected of being a hitman... with her smooth words. But because Donald wrote the report, Vash would have to see to believe.
"I take it you're here for Carmen's special training session. Have you ever... danced before?" he said, maybe a little too painfully with drawing out the word 'dance'. Dance was simply a word strange to the context of of an agent's work... but essential, all the same. With choreographed words and choreographed steps, they (most of the time) pulled through operations. Dance is nothing compared to the choreography an agent learns. |
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Feb 1, 2015 12:40:31 GMT -8
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Jan 30, 2015 20:10:41 GMT -8
Weak. One wasn't supposed to show any hesitation with a gun. A gun is said to be a weapon, a game changer, an extension. A gun is unnatural. If a larger guy and a smaller guy were to get in a bar fight, one would assume the larger guy would win. But if the smaller one were to pull out a gun— now that would be a different story. To be able to wield a gun in the United Kingdom was a privilege, not a right. It is even public policy for police officers not to be able to wield firearms unless the circumstance truly called for it. And so, he would not let her falter with that privilege. To be able to hold the difference between life and death and to be able to control it properly was a gift given to the agents at MI6. And to squander that privilege was simply unfortunate.
"Miss. You're wrist is shaking. Even your knees are shaking," he said, watching as the bullet grazed the edge of the target. "Weak form. And you're breathing too much."
He got up from the chair, posture as stiff and staunch as the strict soldier he was said to be. He put on an air of being much taller, despite the fact that this agent was just a bit shorter than him. Most of the agents were taller than him, the females even surpassing him in height easily with high heels. Heck, even Aoife is taller than him. But he made up for it, definitely. And with this agent actually being shorter than him, he only felt a mile higher.
"You're holding it like it's going to shoot you. The gun you're holding isn't even too bad on the recoil. It comes from Q's lab, and since it's the first gun model you'd get from Q, it's designed to absorb recoil for you. You shouldn't even feel any recoil," he said, looking at her hands and scowling. She definitely did have one of the easier guns to use. Unlike the usual rifle he wielded, though he had to admit that half the difficulty of wielding that rifle came from the engraving.
He picked up his rifle again, reloaded, and took a firm stance at the adjacent target. With an almost machine-like dexterity, he inhaled and pulled the trigger.
Scheisse. (0.7, 0.04).
He put down the rifle and turned towards his trainee again.
"It's the same for all weapons you wield. Rifles. Pistols. Revolvers. Long guns. Shot guns. Carbines. Machine guns. Snipers. Artillery guns. Hunting guns. BB guns. Water guns. Ray guns for all I care. You need to wield it with dignity, and you need to hold yourself with dignity. You need strength to be able to wield the difference between life and death," he said, holding his firearm with such reverence. "When you wield the difference between life and death, you carry power. Unnatural power. And nature is going to work against you. So you have to stand up to it. You fear power, it'll eat you alive."
He put the rifle down, engraved side up. He went to the back, opening his briefcase and pulling out a single gun. His own first gun from Q. Lieder.
He went about loading Lieder. She, as he referred to most of his prized, named firearms, looked good as new with the way he maintained her shine and finish. Lieder probably looked even better in comparison to the trainee's new-issue first gun. Q had constructed a better barrel between the time she issued Lieder to Vash and the gun to the trainee. But Lieder was definitely cared for. And he treasured his first MI6-issued firearm just as much as he treasured his first rifle... which was unfortunately somewhere down the Alps at this point.
As he continued polishing and readying his gun, he couldn't help but notice the incessant sounds of growling coming from his trainee. Vash was one who honored honesty, and actually did take some mercy when it came to making sure his trainees were fed. He quickly learned that hungry trainees were unproductive trainees. And unproductive trainees were much harder to teach. With her stomach growling like a bear and her tardiness, he was pretty sure she didn't go to the Canteen and eat herself a deliciously free breakfast. And besides, as an agent, he had a sense of being able to sense lies— even if he was known to be a bit dull when it came to indirectness.
"Operative Notonegoro, I am going to have to ask you to sit down at the table and eat the orange and help yourself to the food at the table. You're shaking, and this isn't going to be acceptable. You will need to eat breakfast before coming to training," Vash said with an almost doctorly voice. He couldn't rant enough about the virtues of good nutrition and a fair enough amount of exercise.
"Pour some wine if that's what you'd like. If you're not a wine drinker, I can ask one of the desk assistants to fetch some beer or water," he said, clicking Lieder shut. And what a satisfying sound that was, every time.
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Jan 24, 2015 23:27:42 GMT -8
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Jan 24, 2015 23:26:37 GMT -8
I'M ALREADY THERE He lacked eloquence, and, for once, he really wished he had some.
He never really cared for beauty in words, nor did he care for how those words affected others. He expected his actions to speak for his intentions. But some people deserve words. Jokingly, he had hoped that it would be he who would compose a eulogy for him. Not the other way around. Donald had a way with words, certainly, and Vash simply couldn't put them together. He wouldn't be able to do the man justice on that podium, and he knew it.
The man wasn't even in the casket. Even if his words were eloquent enough, those words would never reach his ears.
Due to the nature of his untimely death, Donald Finn O'Neill-Kirkland's casket was closed. Atop the casket was the Union Jack. A representation of the nation that he served so valiantly. A portrait of the man smiled foolishly on the display. The hall was strewn with shamrocks and flax flowers to honor his Northern Irish heritage. Surrounding his casket were aromatic tiger lilies. Most certainly fitting for the man.
He hated to admit it, but he would give a lot to see that smirking face, to be jokingly called "Chipper". He never wanted Donald to be the man whose hair stayed the color of carrots forever.
But he had to acknowledge it. Agents that were in the field very often and were considered the top of the top were expected to die for their country. They were sent on especially dangerous missions, trained to face the worst odds, and expected to serve until the very end.
He wrote the eulogy, but he certainly wasn't prepared to give it. Not with the lack of eloquence, not with... not with not accepting that Donald was no more.
He was much too alive to be dead. 309 | open | funeral scene for all donald missers |
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Nov 24, 2014 6:35:38 GMT -8
Asu
OTPs: (TND underlined): SwissBelg, SwissIre (I'd love something about the awkward bar scene ffff), SwissLux, RoBela, DonChar, SpaBel, EngLiech
For Ace Attorney, I've fallen in love with EdgeworthxFranziska, that's really all the rage for me right now
Also: Cute Benelux family stuff (or suave or angsty or just anything Benelux), Vash and Nesia senpai and kouhai shiz, any badass Vash, Kirklands
If you know Ace Attorney, anything Franziska von Karma, please. What a goddess u wu
Fandoms: Hetalia, Ace Attorney
Prompts: TND AU, Vampire Hunter AU, Angels vs Demons AU, Alice in Wonderland AU, "I love you, but...", unwilling proposal, 1920s and Great Gatsby, any lyrics by Panic! at the Disco, ALMOST LOVERS/ASYMPTOTE LOVERS SEPARATED BY TIME, prince(ess) and servant, historical, Romeo and Juliet, perfectionists in their own perfect world, I can add to this list if you want to write something else!
Preference: Go for anything! I don't mind irl stuff either, I totally dig that.
Disfavored: ...Can't think of anything, just don't write anything too morbid?
Gifts
- I like fics and art, but a RL gift is cool too. But I won't give out an address unless you ask ffff
- I also happen to like chocolate, but that's a bit much to ask ffff--
What I'll do
- fics
- can't do art ffff
- any genre
- a cool personalized RL letter (if I know you well enough),
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Oct 19, 2014 21:25:30 GMT -8
May I have the privilege of plotting with you? I have my Swiss man here, Belgium, Hungary, and Lady Wales at your disposal u wu
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Oct 17, 2014 18:03:46 GMT -8
MAY I HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF PLOTTING WITH ANTONIO?
|
|
Offline
Jun 3, 2024 22:26:32 GMT -8
Tag me @swiss
|
|
Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on Sept 14, 2014 11:20:53 GMT -8
Ey best friend, we need to ploooooot.
I offer friendship discount on bodyguarding service. Nah, Vash does already have a bodyguarding assignment, so that may be out of the question. I can charge for camaraderie, though! I'd totally recommend Donald as a bodyguard, or Feliks... or Carmen. Carmen and Feliks especially, to contrast personalities!
But yeah hm, let's see what we can do, shall we?
|
|
