23 September 2011 @ 06:35 pm
[The screen flickers on, and a very confused face appears. He's right up at the screen, squinting and trying to figure out if he's making this work properly.]

Umm... hello? Is anybody there? I've been captured again! I hope it's not by England, because then he's going to feed me disgusting food. I don't want disgusting food! Or what if it's somebody else who makes even worse food...

[He tugs at the violet collar around his neck.]

What if they've captured me and want to make me their pet? Dog food doesn't taste nice. I tried it once and it made me ill all day.

[His odd curl seems to be upside down, and tears are starting to form at his eyes. He starts to look around.]
 
 
20 July 2011 @ 08:54 pm
[He seems a bit distracted as he settles down, seemingly confused. Then, with a startled sound he begins to mess with his hair. A series of muttered curses in French color his preening as he tries to plaster down stray hairs that do not exist, staring rather blankly after putting his hands down as if observing something. Hushed:] I look like a recluse! Mon dieu!

[Leans forward, more determined than ever. He goes from trying to plaster them down to brushing them down for more volume, letting that prized hair cascade like a boss. He finally leans back ten minutes later, seemingly quite pleased. Yes. You guessed correctly; he used the camera as an impromptu mirror, not quite understanding that it was broadcasting. Of course he's not quick to leave. He did just spend around 15 minutes fussing over his hair and getting up too quickly would 'disturb' it.]
 
 
Screw this tower. Screw this shitty job. Where the hell are you, Veneziano? Every-fucking-one else is here, so why aren't you?!

God damn it, fratellino!!!

[You can't see it, but this is about the point he drops his tear-streaked face onto the keyboard. If it wasn't clear, he's been crying.]

nbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbgtrfvbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

[And there's the accidental forehead-smash text that came from that and hitting the enter key. He hasn't noticed it yet...]
 
 
06 June 2011 @ 01:26 pm
[The camera flicks onto to a woman with a slightly grumpy expression, her hand reaching up to flick the camera, muttering softly in Italian. Finally it focuses in on her and she sighs, rubbing her temple. Technology always gives her a headache]

Right. Firstly; has anyone seen a girl, a bit... the same height as me [She means taller, she's just in denial] Hair that's more an auburn colour, usually kept back in a ponytail, has a curl like this [Points to her own] that flicks out on the left side, and is usually covered in some form of bruising because she's an idiota and runs into everything? Answers to the name of Venezia, or if you must, Viviana. If you see her, tell her to come to room 1-09, her sister needs to see her. Immediately.

Secondly. I assume we all received the same letters, si? That we're stuck here and our homes have been destroyed? Well that's bullshit, if Italia was destroyed I wouldn't be standing, sitting, whatever here, okay? So if you're freaking out, stop it, right now, get your shit together, because I'm sure all of us would love to go home, and get away from this stupid place.

[With a huff, she sits back in the chair, one hand still rubbing her temple, voice dropping to a mumble] I am going to go crazy here, I know it...

(ooc: I'm using the human name of the FemItaly I usually play with, obviously it could change if we get one.)
 
 
06 June 2011 @ 12:23 am
[Her camera turns on to a rather annoyed looking Hungary.] Alright this- isn't really funny at all. If Gilbert's the one behind this cruel prank I swear to God I will snap his neck then his dick. It's one thing for some of his pranks to be stupid, but to go this far would be completely unforgivable.

Though, I guess I should thank whoever packed everything for me. Still. I'm pretty angry.

So...please, if anyone is out there. Start spilling.
 
 
04 June 2011 @ 07:05 pm
[There is nothing but white when the visuals flicker into view, and it may take a moment or more for the pupils to adjust to the amount of white on white, the wall and the floors and the tight suit, and then the mess of white hair and equally fair skin. The voice that accompanies the image is not amused.]

Now you've done it, France. You win this one, whatever it is. We'll have a laugh about it and I'll beat your head in for it next time we go out for a drink. Whatever it was, you can let me out now.

[There's an affirmative--or perhaps just supportive--chirping in the background, and the young woman rolls her eyes.]

And I can't believe you took away my clothes but the left the bird behind. Pervert.
 
 
31 May 2011 @ 09:48 pm
Ignore. ♥
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