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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Jan 12, 2015 14:22:48 GMT -8
311 WORDS | H er fingers gently pushed the menu across the table, closer to her new company. Francis Bonnefoy was a man with fine taste, so his recommendation was welcomed. Nesia was also interested in knowing him further, and what their conversation reveal by the end of the day. The woman had an urgent need for a distraction to prevent her mind from making herself more anxious.
”I have been quite well! Today has not been very busy, thankfully, although I will admit it is a bit boring."
How enviable. Her smile faltered a little, her heart wished she could say that her day was just as mundane. But with the constant danger that was her job(s), going through a boring day sounded like a vacation for her.
"And yourself, mademoiselle? I rarely see you outside of the casino, and outside your work attire. I must say, you look lovely.”
Copying Bonnefoy, Nesia reached for the napkin too, but her movements halted as soon as he finished speaking. Cheeks flushed red, eyes darted to her lap. "O-oh, thank you," muttered her, but it sounded more like a squeak. The Indonesian always felt shy whenever someone commented her showgirl outfit. She agreed with him, yet it did not erase the fact that the clothes were way more revealing than her everyday attire. Nesia took quite a long time getting used to the showgirl costumes.
Once she gotten over her surprise, the woman took the napkin and placed it on her lap. "Well, uhm..." she cleared her throat. The silence had turned uncomfortable. "I think I... I'll order tea and something light for lunch," she added, ready to hide her face behind the menu book once the blond man was done choosing his food. "Mm, mm... a soup, maybe?" she muttered to herself.
Oh god, not even five minutes sitting together and things already this awkward...
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Jan 7, 2015 14:15:45 GMT -8
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Jan 7, 2015 14:14:08 GMT -8
1335 WORDS
muse rambled; considering to close thread | S trange.
Strange that the world kept went on without her, strange that all the sound and movements no longer meant anything to her. Strange that despite her feet were firmly stood on the ground, Nesia felt she was not a part of this world anymore. Like watching a movie, an audience could not change the outcome of whatever action and decision the characters made. An audience was here to watch, not to influence the story.
Nesia decided that she should just close her eyes, focusing on the pitter-patter on the roof like it was a soothing background music, and waited. If she stood still, not making any noise, the movie would be over, the magic would be lifted and she could gather her belongings to return to her real world. This enchanted world was a safe, temporary escapade. No one was meant to stay here forever. No one.
Like a good audience, Nesia remained on her place, watching the tall Russian jumped and giggle and his eyes sparked genuine happiness so pure so innocent she could almost believe he was an untainted sou-- character in this story. He exclaimed, "the job is really easy! All you have to do is bring me information from certain people of interest - ah, and of course, you can continue your studies. You should continue; education is important."
She agreed and gave him a nod. Education is important. Education was the reason why she was here after all, to climb through a better ladder to a better, brighter future many people less fortunate unable to reach. The joyful-- tired, thin, plump, sunburned --faces of her relatives surfaced in her mind, complete with their equally joyful voices of congratulations! when she announced a prestigious college in one of the best city in the world had accepted her application. The scene itself felt so... so old, so far in the past Nesia swore it should belong in a museum somewhere, documented nicely in an 8mm movie reel.
"And why I chose you, well~" Another giggle. "You're my friend and needed a job, so I thought it'd be nice to offer you one."
Did they know what their bright, dutiful niece do here? It seemed that she had acquainted herself with a man who used the word friend excessively. That alone should feel strange enough in this day and age. Oh boy did she ignore it. She often thought she should use her brief (as she had planned) time in London to make as many friends as possible, so she could connect with them once she return home. The young woman did not belong here, for her home was half a world away.
Yet it made sense. That was precisely why he chose her. If London was a big chessboard, then Nesia was a pawn from another game. This was not her battleground, and never will. But most people would not notice if suddenly a foreign pawn died in the middle of the battle, right? That was why she was perfect for this job. A pawn so easily discarded, who would never be missed if it got trampled under the knights' horses. Who would want to look after her, ensuring her survival? No one.
In war, soldiers fell. One does not have any worth more than its fellow soldiers.
"And, well, when it comes to experience..." He glanced at the bag laying motionless some distance from them. "He was a professional, and look what happened to him."
A breath escaped her trembling lips. The sound from the movie was slightly muffled since the rain had gotten heavier, lashing violently against the building. Yet somehow, his words rang louder than the storm, guiding her to follow where his glance was directed. The smell emanating from the floor prompted her to turn her head away.
The audience felt that the movie was too real to be a temporary escapade. Movies were not supposed to exude any smell at all.
"I think, in this job, it's better if you don't have experience. Everyone knows how to spot a professional spy nowadays. But nobody trains to catch amateurs."
Nesia raised her chin. He was wrong, so wrong. Everyone knew how to spot amateurs, the world worked that way. Amateurs stick out like a sore thumb, like a poppy who grows taller than its peers. They were the first to fall in any battle. Disposable resource easily replaced. A dozen set of eyes directed at her, killing her courage to speak up. There was no point in objecting; she would have to keep her opinion to herself for now. Probably Braginsky would not like her to object anyway.
The exit tempted the audience to take an early leave. The door was close. It was not the first time tonight the young woman wanted to go. But no, she knew this was illogical. She would head to the exit gracefully, without any of these men realizing what she was doing. Could she do that? Nesia did not know. Like he said, she was an amateur.
"As for what's bratva... to put it simply, we're a group of friends trying to make the world a better place - through any means necessary."
A better place for some could be a hell for the most people.
The movie became blurry. The audience felt, for the second time tonight, tears rolling down her cheeks. The blood pumped to her brain sounded like a percussion being played way too close. It dawned on her, every pieces from the movie settled into her reality, a world she could never escape from.
Nesia had said yes, sealing her fate and future. No, her future had been sealed the moment she agreed to accept this job, three days ago at the restaurant. What lies at the end of this road might be similar to that rotten body bag before them. As if preventing herself from leaving, Braginsky pulled her into a hug. Her voice found a way out in the form of a yelp and her hands instantly tried to push him away.
Alas, he was stronger.
"I'm so happy! You became part of us after all! I promise the pay is pretty good, and you can join our drinking nights now, and... oh, that's right, would you like a bottle now? Vodka warms you up nicely on a cold day like this~"
She did want any drinks. She only wanted to go home. To run back to the dormitory and curl inside her blanket and convince herself that this was a mere dream a nightmare that would soon end and she will return to the reality that is college life safely-- and she will be able to laugh for the dream is unreal and the only things she has to fear for are her grades. She would tell Lucille and they both would laugh; she would tell Niklaas and he would advise her not to leave with strangers no matter what they promised to her. She would call her cousins-- they were always thrilled whenever Nesia was on the phone, oh how much they missed their big sister --and told them her experience in London.
But no, she could not do them anymore. She must avoid Lucille; they shared so much and Nesia needed to keep this one a secret. She could not come to the café anymore; these people would find out whom she was acquainted with, indirectly endanger their lives. And the next time Nesia picked up a call from home, everything she would say were lies. No one should find out what happened at this place. They did not belong in this side of London.
But, did she?
Her lips trembled, her head laid on the Russian's broad shoulder. His body shielded her from the other men's gaze, and for a brief-- no longer than a millisecond --time, she felt safe. Safe enough to spill her fear, her worry, everything. So without hesitating, Nesia leaned against him to cry.
What have I done...? |
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Nov 25, 2014 20:36:59 GMT -8
on my trusted scooootaaaaahhhh~ helmet-less and shoe-less ofc with phone nestled between ear and shoulder~ #YOLO
don't try this at home kids
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Oct 17, 2014 0:01:15 GMT -8
368 WORDS
smara is love; dahana is fire/yearning. Smaradahana means a love that burns the lovers' hearts so they yearn for it. From Sanskrit. | N esia had reached for her ponytail before the student stopped her movement. She felt her action would show just how nervous she was. And fixing her hairstyle in public also seemed inappropriate - especially when her date was standing before her. So the woman opted to fiddle with her bag and stared at their shoes until she calmed down.
“You’re fine. Things happen."
She raised her chin, looking at Niklaas. He didn't look upset; he seemed fine despite having to wait for her. Yet Nesia couldn't help but tasting the bitterness of guilt in the back of her tongue. Swallowing it, Nesia returned his smile.
“I was thinking we’d go out to lunch, and talk. Sound good?”
"Mhm!" She happily agreed. "I think there are some nice places around here..." she looked around, trying to remember what her friends had told her about best dating spots around Trafalgar Square. Somehow Nesia couldn't recall any, and the more she tried the more their names hidden underneath the clutter of her mind. "Ah, let's just walk for now and enjoy this nice weather!"
Right after the sentence flew from her mouth, Nesia regretted it. Why would she say that? It sounded so cliché and boring and-- what people usually talk about during first date? Talking was never difficult to her, but she often found herself speechless around Niklaas' presence. During their conversations in the jazz club, Nesia could always find a topic they could talk to; either about his performance or hot issues in London. But a date was not similar to casual chit-chat; they should talk about things other than mundane matters. She then tried recalling romance movies and novels she had enjoyed in the past. All of them featured a more romantic male lead character, and Nesia knew they were nowhere near Niklaas' nature.
Come to think of it, Nesia found it's strange she was drawn to him instead of one of those romantic guys. Though... he was really handsome--
"S-sorry I daydreamed!" Nesia blurted out, feeling her cheeks instantly turn warmer when their gaze met. "I was trying to remember the place a friend recommended to me," she lied. "They have a really nice food with affordable price."
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Oct 5, 2014 8:30:40 GMT -8
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Oct 5, 2014 8:29:09 GMT -8
| T he room was dark. Usually, at this hour, all the curtains were opened wide, allowing the morning sun warming the bed beside the window. But the bed itself now was cold, its pillows lined neatly. The closet besides it was empty, and so was the table, save for a laptop placed on top of it. It was the only source of light in the room, its flickering screen cast strange shadows on the wall.
The woman who stood in front of the table had been standing motionless like a mannequin. Her stiff face showed no emotion, as if it was a leather mask instead of human skin. The glow from her laptop was reflected on her glasses, yet her brown eyes were fixed on the door instead of the device. From her body language, it looked like she was expecting someone to knock on the door. Her right arm was partly hidden under her jacket, her fingers were ready to pull a weapon out if it did happen. It was not even six in the morning, too early for anyone to visit her place. But the only guest who had come uninvited at this hour was, perhaps, the most dangerous man in London. She knew he was occupied as of now; she could imagine the shock and anger he felt this very second. And the woman was glad he was nowhere near her.
Nesia Notonegoro's goal in joining the MI6 had been fulfilled - to bring down the mafia who had recruited her few years ago. Yet it did not mean she accomplished it without any sacrifice. The woman had broken rules - rules of the agents and the rules that she chose to govern her life. If she could, Nesia would have turned the time back and stop her past life from stupidly crossing the line. But, as the saying goes, the rice had turned into porridge and no one could undo it.
Darkness engulfed her surroundings when the laptop shut itself down. The woman was not even bothered by the sudden loss of light. She simply smiled and put her laptop into a bag. A week ago, this place was full of her belongings: clothes, books and pictures. She had moved them all and cleaned the whole room, even taking out the lamp to erase her fingerprints which she left when she replaced it. Nesia knew sooner or later some people would check this place, looking for her. Now is the time for her to disappear. But there was another thing that she had to do: explaining to her superior in the MI6 about her activity. Last night she sent the data she had gathered to the police, and just now she sent it to the MI6. They would want to know from her directly.
Five minutes later, Nesia locked her former apartment and left the building. All her past memories were gone; hidden from anyone's knowledge. For her, what mattered most was her future, which would be started by ending her mission. Yet her steps felt heavier the closer she got to the SIS Building. What would they say, once Nesia spilled her secrets to them?
As her destination came into view, warmth began to leave her gloved fingers. Mr. Zwingli certainly would be angry, but it was Ms. O'Neill's anger that Nesia feared the most. But it's still too early for any of them to be here, she thought as she opened the door. I can just leave a note for them instead talking face-to-face... hopefully.
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Sept 8, 2014 11:47:45 GMT -8
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Sept 8, 2014 11:46:38 GMT -8
367 WORDS
bit short sorry | N esia wasn't paying enough attention to what the men talked about, but she heard Kyle said home. Not only these two were related, but looks like they lived together as well. A brother, perhaps? The thought about food tempted her to get some once they left the river, but there was a more important matter that she needed to do.
She directed her gaze back to the bridge and its surroundings. She had hidden herself well among the busy crowd when she escaped, but she was chased. Nothing was seen up above, just people concerned with their own business. Nevertheless, it'd be risky staying here in the open. Kyle and this boy could be in trouble too, if they were seen together with her. Well, Kyle was part of MI6, but the other boy...
"Yeah, home is good," she repeated it, standing up. Somehow Kyle managed to get her gun back to her, which she gingerly took and returned to its place. The blond boy seems didn't believe his reason, though. Nesia wondered just how much did he know about Kyle's job.
...And the wink was unnecessary.
Her body felt heavier due to the water in her clothes and shoes. She only wanted to change it as soon as possible, so Nesia nudged the Australian's elbow. "Can we talk for a second please?" But even while she spoke, her hand already guided Kyle away from the boy. She made sure that he couldn't hear or read their lips before finally speaking.
"I was chased when I fell," Nesia reported. "I'm not sure if they were still waiting nearby, but if they do, they might follow us." She bit her lip. It was hard to recall what they looked like too. The agent only saw them in a few seconds before the chase began. Her tripping and falling soon occupied most of her memory about that morning. "Home maybe isn't as safe as the headquarter. B-but if you're sure it's safe enough, then we can go there."
Nesia looked away for a second, sneezing. Then she sat on the ground again, undoing her shoe laces. Looks like she would be going barefoot for the rest of the day.
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Sept 1, 2014 23:36:15 GMT -8
1338 WORDS
I had fun writing this and why is this gets even longer | T he cold, the smoke, the scent of a dozen strangers in the room. The impending danger, the predators' den she had stepped into, lured by false promises. The numbness in her fingers, the bitterness on her tongue. The smile at the tall Russian's face that she believed as a sign of something bad on her part.
Her senses were overwhelmed by the contents in the room, and her mind cluttered with millions of escape possibilities - all of them involved unrealistic help from the outside. What chances did she have, a small girl against a dozen men who might be armed? There were boxes and crates lined along the wall, some were used as makeshift furniture. Who knows, those might be full of bombs. She needed an absurdly powerful magic to protect herself if they suddenly exploded.
No, stop. Stop thinking about things that didn't exist and would not happen. If those crates were really full of bombs, they needed a valid reason to use it, and a college student was far from a threat for them. There wouldn't be any police coming to rescue her since she didn't call them back in the car. There wouldn't be any wizard battle happening here either; they weren't even real. She began to understand that she was the only one she could rely on. Neither Braginsky or one of these people would gladly escort her back to her college dorm, right? She had to help herself.
Nesia glanced at the ceiling, right when the lightning flashed and the thunder roared outside. Help me, give me strength.
Now think. An instant escape was almost impossible, so she should do it subtly. Perhaps when they weren't looking she could run through the entrance door, it didn't seem to be locked from the inside. Nesia shook her head a little, pulling the large coat closer. No, she had thought about this possibility before they arrived. That ended with her being sent home in a body bag. The student reluctantly crossed all options that required her to use physical power. She was unarmed, and fighting against these many people was futile.
These people... Who were they? Nesia didn't dare to look directly at their faces, but she knew they must be curious or wondering what a girl like her doing in their place. Conversations had paused, voices lowered into a little louder than mere whispers. All heads had turned to look at her and Braginsky. The man said something, then everyone else mumbled their answer in unison. It seems they knew and respected Braginsky.
But... who is exactly Ivan Braginsky? Their dinner conversation didn't reveal much about him, save for his origin and a brief explanation about what he did for a living - something with trade and politics, or maybe military. He hadn't harmed her, nor speaking of terrible things to her. Maybe if she keep being nice to him, he would let her go safely, instead of wrapped in a body bag? Nevertheless, she concluded that Braginsky himself was her biggest chance to survive.
A large arm entered her vision, pulling Nesia away from the corner. She yelped and closed her eyes as the arm wrapped her close and a whisper came from above. "It's okay, don't be shy. They're all friends."
Nesia wanted to tell him that she wasn't feeling shy. Any sane person would feel afraid if they suddenly pulled into a place full of unfriendly strangers. He didn't seem to realize this fact, though. The bitterness in her tongue prevented her from speaking, so she kept her gaze down while Braginsky introduced her to his friends.
His, not hers.
"This here is Nesia~ I met her a few days earlier. She's my newest friend and a possible future comrade to you all, so treat her nicely, okay?"
Newest friend. Possible future comrade. Several people mumbled their greetings, but Nesia didn't dare to take even a slightest glance. Also, what did he mean by 'friend' and 'comrade'? Those words seem to bear similar meanings, yet he used it in two different sentences stating two different facts.
"These people here are your new friends, all working under me! Hum, I'm sorry the bigger bratva bosses aren't present, but I'm sure you'll get to know them too soon enough, if you decide to join us. Oh, and-"
This time Nesia looked up, blinking in confusion. Her earlier assumption had proven true, that these people were working for him. There were words that instantly stole her attention. 'Bosses' and 'bratva'. The first indicated that there were people who held higher positions than Braginsky's, but the latter... she had no idea what bratva means. Perhaps it was the name of their company or something.
The sound of a heavy object being dragged interrupted her thoughts, accompanied with a sharp smell that seems to come from a rotten object. Her eyes fixed on the human-sized bag, knowing what was inside it even before Braginsky explained. "I did tell you before that some of your new friends were a bit more... lifeless than others, yes? This is who you'll be replacing. He went and saw something he wasn't supposed to, so we had to... hum, let him go."
It was a corpse. And that could be her body in the bag if she screwed up too like his former employee. Her throat felt dry and sour. Nesia coughed, jerked his arm away, then rushed past the door back to her corner. She fell on her knees, coughing more violently, but luckily nothing came out from her throat save for her raspy breathing.
"I... don't really like it when things don't go according to plan, you see."
How could it be so silent? Where did the thunder go? Where were the noises? Braginsky's words pierced through the cold air, settling in her mind despite her wish to erase it. She stood up, not wanting to make herself look even more miserable, then faced the Russian again. Nesia found his arm on her shoulder again before she had a chance to say something. This time she didn't even flinch - but she was trembling.
"Ah, but that's a bit off-topic, huh? After all, it's not like you'd repeat his mistakes! So, um..."
Why he seemed really happy? Now he looked like a... an overgrown kid offering a candy to his classmate. Remembering her earlier analysis, Nesia tried her best not to break the eye contact, no matter how much it made her uncomfortable. It's better to look at him than the body bag on the floor too.
"Um, would you like to..."
Nesia thought this wasn't how normally people doing illegal jobs recruit their underlings. But Ivan Braginsky was far from normal.
"... Join us?"
The numbness had attacked her lips. It was clear what would happen if she denied his request. And after all, treating him nicely would keep her safe, it seems. There were questions she needed to ask, but those could wait either. He needed her answer now. For a few minutes Nesia only stared at him until she finally found her voice again.
"Yes."
With that word, Nesia felt that something heavy had escaped her body together with her breath. Her knees felt weak again, but she grabbed his arm for support.
"But wait," Nesia started, her voice was lowered so only him who could hear her. "What... what is exactly the job I will be doing? I... I don't want t-to mess up like him." Another tear ran down her cheek, which she ignored. Her eyes felt puffy too.
More questions popped up in her mind, breaking the dam that she had built carefully. "Another thing, why me? What if I don't have any previous experience about the job and mess up too? I'm not... particularly skilled, you know. Why not someone else? I'm just an ordinary student. I barely know London too. So why me?"
Without pausing for breath, Nesia launched her last question. "And... what is 'bratva'?"
Somewhere above them all, the thunder roared loudly.
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Aug 18, 2014 1:37:21 GMT -8
370 WORDS
| W ith her elbow propping up her chin, Nesia skimmed the menu. There were pictures accompanying almost every item written, and everything looked appealing to her. Somehow she believed that the more delicious it looked, the higher the price. Why did she get an idea to treat herself in such an expensive looking place anyway? Without company, too.
And speaking of which, Nesia felt really alone lately. She missed her cousins back home, whom she last met a year before her graduation from college. They had been asking her when she would visit them next time, but Nesia couldn't say when; not when she had a duty to do here in London. The dynamics of the underworld were unpredictable, one day two different factions were allies, and the next day they could be murdering each other. If Nesia did went home, she'd spend at least a week half a world away. Who knows what could happen in the span of seven days? On the other hand, she needed to vent out her stress in a healthier way than smoking. But the things she wanted to talk about were not a normal young woman's problems. They were secrets, dangerous secrets.
She blinked, her fingers finding that she had reached the last page of the menu. Would she looked.. strange, if she only ordered dessert? Or skipped straight to main course? Nesia was unused with eating more than one dish during lunch or dinner. She wanted to ask someone, but she felt too shy to do it.
"Good afternoon, ma chérie! How wonderful it is to see you here."
Nesia glanced upwards, suddenly feeling relieved. "Afternoon, Mr. Bonnefoy," she returned the greeting politely. Francis Bonnefoy was a regular guest in Ciel Blanc's casino, her workplace. She had spoken to him several times and he's always nice to her.
"Would you mind if I dined with you today?"
"Oh I don't mind," Nesia nodded, gesturing for him to take the unoccupied chair. "And I'd be glad if you could help me choosing from the menu, everything looks delicious."
Despite their previous encounters, Nesia didn't really know much about him. So she started their conversation with a simple "how's your day so far, Mr. Bonnefoy?"
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Aug 14, 2014 21:15:51 GMT -8
321 WORDS | T he basic steps weren't that difficult. Just in a mere minutes after she started, Nesia's confidence had started to return. She quickened her pace, while her arms remained stiff and motionless in the air. If she had someone to practice with, Nesia believed she would do it even better by the time Ms. Carriedo arrived. Keeping her arms up when she had no one to hold to felt uncomfortable after a while, too.
Tired, the woman stopped and stretched her arms, letting her blood flowed freely to her fingertips. When she turned around, she saw that she was no longer alone. How come she didn't hear the door opened and closed?
"Er... good morning, Mr. Zwingli," she greeted the Swiss man, feeling a bit embarrassed because he must had been seeing her practicing by herself. Silence passed between them, until Nesia awkwardly averted her gaze. Why he was here? She thought he entered the wrong room, but Nesia doubted it. Vash Zwingli was famous for his precision in shooting and his punctuality in appointments. His position indicated that he had been there for a while, and if Vash had not expected her to be here, he would have said something. So that means there's only one explanation left...
"Were you waiting for Ms. Carriedo?" Nesia asked, didn't dare to directly voice her thoughts. "She borrowed this for... erm, a training session. She will arrive soon, I believe," the woman added as she walked to her belongings, grabbed a water bottle and seated herself across of the blond man. There was no way her supposed mentor had appointed him to teach her instead, right? Vash didn't seem to be the type of man who enjoyed dancing, let alone a dance as intimate as tango.
Sighing, Nesia closed her bottle cap and leaned on the wall. She hoped he's only here waiting for Ms. Carriedo and would left before they started the lesson.
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Aug 9, 2014 0:35:30 GMT -8
| S low, slow, slow, quick, slow... Knees closed, feet opened.
In her small apartment, Nesia had moved her furniture closer to the wall to create more space on the floor. Her laptop was placed at the table, showing a basic tutorial video about tango dancing. She observed and mimicked the woman's steps before doing it by herself. It looked easy. Once Nesia was confident that she had memorized enough, her curiosity prompted her to she clicked another video about tango. This time, it wasn't a tutorial.
The dance didn't look as simple as she thought. The choreography was more intricate and difficult, but Nesia had been dancing since she was young; she just needed to practice a lot to master it. Yet her confidence gone when she realized just how close the dancing pairs were in the video. Never in her life she got that close physically to a man, and she felt she wouldn't be able to do it without blushing at all. Before the video ended, Nesia closed the browser and turned her laptop off. Well, at least her instructor would be a woman.
As part of her (extra) training, her mentor advised her to fix her nervousness during social interactions, especially with men. Ms. Carmen Fernandez-Carriedo was chosen to teach Nesia, and she had said that they would learn tango during the lesson too. Maybe she offered it because Nesia did list dancing as her hobby and skill in her agent profile. Ms. Carriedo herself seemed to be a good dancer. This is going to be fun.
Nesia arrived early at the SIS Building; a rare occasion that may had been fueled by her excitement. A room that was usually used for martial arts training had been reserved for today. She headed to that room, not surprised when she found it empty. Nesia did a little stretching, then decided to pass the time by repeating the steps in the tutorial video, humming a song softly to help with the rhythm.
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LAIKA OF GS! |
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AGENT
Heterosexual
Sexuality
22
Age
MI6
Occupation
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DERP
Offline
May 1, 2017 21:22:22 GMT -8
GMT+7 Jakarta
Tag me @derpinesia
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Aug 8, 2014 1:15:39 GMT -8
| A h, why is this place have to be so full of people?
It was Saturday, the last in this year's autumn. White small patches here and there indicated the coming of winter. There would be more coming tonight, however, according to today's forecast. Even though it was still considered early, people of all ages already gathered in the Trafalgar Square: elderly folk, families with children, young adults with their dogs. And standing amid them all, confused and lost, was Nesia Notonegoro.
There were multiple reasons for her being there in such state. One, she had a date with her boyfriend. Two, this was her first date since she went to London for pursuing higher education, which making her feeling nervous. Three, her phone battery was dead because she forgot to charge it last night, which was caused by her friends in the dorm trying to pick an outfit for her. Four, she believed she was late and her date was nowhere to be seen. The towering figure of Niklaas de Vries was usually easy to spot between the crowds, but so far she hadn't seen him.
Which makes her thinking that he went home because Nesia was late.
No, no, no, that's impossible. He would wait for her, right? But in their last meeting Nesia was so distracted, so whatever place he mentioned as their meeting place here escaped her mind. Perhaps waiting near that chicken statue was better? Nesia smoothed her brown coat, tugged the rim of her green dress that peeked underneath it, then went to her destination.
Halfway through, she encountered a tall, blond man walking past her. His back was facing her, but for a split second Nesia believed that he was her date. So with a full confidence Nesia shouted, "Niklaas!" But when the man turned his head, his face was not even similar to the Dutchman's. Embarrassed, Nesia quickly apologized before he could say anything or react to her calling. "Sorry! Wrong person!" Then the student ran as fast as she could, leaving the confused not-Niklaas behind.
Fortunately, she encountered another Niklaas lookalike. He was rather far, so Nesia walked closer until she saw his familiar hairstyle and the scar above his eye. Nesia wasted no time to run to him, waving frantically. "Niklaas, Niklaas! Sorry I'm late... phone is dead and..." she paused, panting, "I forget... where you are..."
Oh dang. She shouldn't have running. Now her hair must be looked messy...
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LAIKA OF GS! |
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AGENT
Heterosexual
Sexuality
22
Age
MI6
Occupation
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DERP
Offline
May 1, 2017 21:22:22 GMT -8
GMT+7 Jakarta
Tag me @derpinesia
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Post by Nesia Notonegoro on Aug 7, 2014 0:10:17 GMT -8
Nesia | Indonesiaaaa | yo |
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