Post by Veata Chea - Cambodia on Sept 22, 2010 9:45:25 GMT -5
Name: Veata Mealea Chea
Country of Origin: The Kingdom of Cambodia
Gender Female
Age: 17-years-old
Height: 5'1''
Weight: 104 pds.
Appearance: A young female that has yet to complete the first quarter of her lifespan, her physical appearance has not quite lost touch with her childhood features. Her heart-shaped face and light curves give off an air of maturity but dark brown eyes alit with childish joy and a gentle smile brought about by the simplest pleasures brings to her a certain childhood innocence often lost in adulthood. Like many human teenagers approaching the age of eighteen, Veata is within her own transition state, both physically and mentally, that leaves behind an odd mix of adult and child features mixed together.
With her slim hands and elegant fingers she is quick to bring to life drawings of her simple but lush natural environment. Full lips push often into a childlike pout or an innocent smile just as easily as they can be used to give an alluring smile. Dark brown eyes that give the ability to pull males in are instead used to absorb a world that she has not quite grown into. Soft, raven black locks of hair cascade over her shoulders to her mid-back and often she plays with it. Her movements are fluid in her dancing, limbs slender and fragile, but her footsteps are nimble and quick in her walk. Put simply, she is a nation of contradictions at her age in life and this is often reflected in her physical appearance that seems to age beyond her mental state.
This transitioning state between childhood and adulthood is not to be seen as the only thing that plays heavily in her physical appearance. Like the people of her country she has always gone through life looking much younger than her age, especially when compared to those of the Barang, or white, world. Years of malnutrition and hard times, both financially and in terms of morals, have resulted in leaving behind a female that cannot grow properly. A thin waist envied by other females who are not quite so slim was caused by starvation under the hand of the Khmer Rouge. Her short height and small bones are due to the malnutrition as well as the taxing physical labor she was forced into only some years ago. Her innocent smile caused only by the savoring of the simple things that were snatched away from her years ago.
One thing to be noted that is large in marring the girl’s physical appearance are the scars that run all along her back. Just as the war and hardship of being one of the weakest nations in the world in her previous life played a hand in making her physical appearance desirable, it also played a hand in causing a physical reminder upon her body that brings to mind things that are better left forgotten. The scars are deep in more than just a few ways and have yet to heal over fully. There is no particular pattern or image hidden within them, only a senseless piece of flesh much like the reasoning behind the violence her people were forced through. Occasionally her face will pull into a wince and her teeth will bite into her lip; this is a clear sign that the scars are irritating her and causing her pain once more. These scars are something she was born with in her reincarnation, something that is a reminder of her previous life.
In terms of fashion Veata has learned from her people the custom of hiding a good deal of her flesh at all times, even when swimming. Her everyday outfit consists usually of a soft, blue sarong scattered with a motif of golden leaves and a simple blouse, often a light type of color rather than dark. When she isn’t running about barefooted then her feet are adorned with a pair of flip flops that cannot be seen considering the length of her sarong. The female can also be seen often with some type of parasol nearby to hide her pale skin from the damaging effects of the sun’s rays.
Crew member of: Not Affiliated
Status: N/A
Pet: N/A
Crest: N/A
Personality: A girl that hides behind the mask of tradition and culture, Veata presents herself a quiet and often soft-spoken female in the eyes of those that do not know her. She is polite with her calm demeanor, shy with her flickering eyes that will never meet the eyes of an elder, respectful with the slight bow of her head. To those that do not know her well she is a quiet little deer that brings a smile to their faces to think about this little girl that has yet to grow fully in the world. She is the ideal Khmer woman at first sight; a woman that walks without a noise, that smiles without showing her teeth, that speaks without revealing a loud voice.
As time passes on though and those around her step a little closer to her heart they find first impressions truly can’t be trusted. With small baby steps she will begin to reveal a little more of her true self to those that she deems suitable friends and allies. It is a process that takes months instead of weeks, sometimes extending as far as years, to get Veata to reveal who she truly is. It isn’t something that she is comfortable with which reflects her own self consciousness. Who she is doesn’t always fit well with the image of the ideal Khmer woman; it is a knowledge that often makes her feel ashamed. True, there are certain traits about that do fit well with the ideal but more often than not her true thoughts and actions would be looked down upon by elders.
Veata is indeed a respectful child that understands her boundaries. To elders she will bow her head slightly and never will she look them, or any male for that matter, in the eye. Her footsteps are light but only when she remembers how she is meant to properly walk and while her voice isn’t as soft-spoken as the people of her nation wish it would be, she isn’t the most boisterous or loud female there is. No, what truly sets her apart from the Khmer ideal is her way of thinking and her personality. She will not allow herself to be bullied and ordered around by anyone, not even an older man, nor will she tolerate being treated like a mere possession like many of the women in Cambodia do.
The female is playful still despite her age as well as eager to continue to learn and expand her world in terms of academics. She is a hard working young adult that throws her all into everything she does. She is passionate about what she loves and will not be the type of female to give up too easily. When a person can pull the mask away from that fabricated image of herself they will find a bright and cheerful girl albeit confused in this modernizing world. The female wants to be the ideal Khmer woman, an Aspara, but she finds herself struggling with this in the modernizing world. She has an education, something unheard of between females before, she thinks and argues against men, something frowned upon, but more importantly she is wandering away from the path of her ancestors.
With each passing day spent with her a little more insight to the female’s personality is gained. She is shy but not in the typical way that people think of shy; she has no trouble making friends or introducing herself to others but she is shy in letting them too close in fear that they will judge what she is truly like. When she is allowed around those that she knows love her she reveals a young female still learning her place in the world. Sometimes she is confused but pride prevents her from asking for help. Instead she prefers to give advice and to guide others through their own troublesome times rather than face her own dark ghosts and devils. She is an awkward female that is still growing into her own skin. This makes her extremely self conscious as well and many a thought are spent on examining what others think of her.
To loved ones she is protective, to enemies she holds large grudges that are not easily forgotten. When she is happy there is something about her lithe form that alerts others to it. When she is sad she will not frown but will instead express what she feels through the smallest, physical movements. Nothing about her is seemingly upfront in her words and the only way to decipher the girl is to look to her face. She does not hide what she feels or thinks upon her facial expressions. Veata is also seen as an extremely optimistic child despite her hardships. Her strong will to live will not allow for the young female to give up and like the people of her home, she faces each and every day with a bright smile despite her dark past. She would give up everything she has and is for the knowledge that those she loves the most will always be protected throughout their lives even after she is long gone.
History: Veata was born to a once aristocratic family residing in Cambodia that left the court in favor of living in the countryside in a small village. They were no longer considered a piece of this court but Veata was still raised much in the manner of the other nobles of the nation that were raised in the capitol. She was the youngest child of the family of eight, all of whom were male as her mother died giving birth to her. Despite being the cause of her mother’s death, she was doted upon heavily as child and loved by every single member of this family. Her whole world was quickly compromised of these males that did their best to protect the female from the horrors of this world. She grew up homeschooled and sheltered from the outside that was quickly falling to pieces. Her father would have gladly died for her if it meant that she was to live out the rest of her life protected the way that she had during childhood and Veata believed this claim. Family was very important to her and at a moment’s notice, she would have given everything up if it meant they would live happily.
It never occurred to anybody during this time that her father would have to live on his promise to give his life up to save her own…
Upon what most assumed to be a peaceful night to celebrat her birthday, bandits stormed into her father’s home and quickly began to slaughter everything in sight. Her father, realizing that it was too late to escape, placed her in one of the hidden rooms and left her to face his own death in the courtyards. His position that once was among the nobles was the thing that would bring his death; he understood that but his children need not follow him needlessly so each had been placed into a different hiding spot. It was perhaps the longest night of her young life accompanied only by the sounds of distant screams and the screams of tortured souls as well as the knowledge that her family had left her behind to face something she couldn’t see. She was without the knowledge of where her own brothers and father were. The other children of the village did not matter to her for her father had isolated the female from them.
When the morning came, there was a heavy silence as this little girl struggled out of the hidden room only to meet the sight of blood-stained wood. Perhaps at that moment she realized what had happened but hope, the foolish thing that it was, led the girl to wander in search of her family. In her was the refusal to acknowledge that her family was lying dead upon the stones but rather in their own hiding places, tending to any wounds that they may have. It was only when she ran into their private courtyard and overturned the dead bodies to meet their glazed eyes did she allow for reality to tear into her small frame. Distress shook the form of the child as she stared at the face of the man that could only be her father.
For two months, everything was a blur for the small child filled with things she would have favored to forget but were forever imprinted in her heart. She wandered the ruins of her home and village with the glazed look of a lost ghost that did not realize it had died yet. Where food came she would eat without thinking, where she would please to sleep she would sleep, curled up to the decaying body of her father as if he would wake in the morning for her. Psychologically her mind could not handle it and without realizing it, Veata begin to slip into a world that existed only in her mind. She began to speak aloud as if her father and brothers were nearby, taking care of her. She ran through the village streets laughing and kicking a ball as if there were other children playing with her as well. In truth, the survivors who had managed to escape the bandits could only take pity upon her but none could coax her out from her deluded reality. Not even the other children who had played a hand in her upbringing.
Veata would not be broken from her stupor until the day she found a heavy rain in the monsoon season steal away a comb her father had brought her for her birthday but had never presented to her. On this very same day she had noted the abscence of several of the other villagers that had chosen to stay behind. Namely, Yong Soo and another little girl she often fought with. The sight of something that was not meant to exist in the world she created and the knowledge of what should belong was missing broke her away from that dream-reality and back to the hard truth.
Eight years passed and Veata found herself just barely surviving by the skills of her exotic dancing. Pride and chastity prevented the girl from selling herself to strangers despite their sweet promises to care after her just as much as it prevented her from taking up the lowly job of putting herself in the service of the families that had escaped the merciless torture of the Vietnamese. It was while putting on a performance at the seaport that Veata found herself spiraling into the life of a pirate. There was a captain there that was quick to realize her potential and even quicker to her lure her onto his crew with clever words and dreams of the freedom that she could have. Her heart, sore still from the death of her family and tired of pushing people away, is the main factor that lead her to an agreement of working for his man.
Time passed though and the Captain eventually fell ill and died. Finding nothing else keeping her there the young female left her original crew to carry out her own life as she pleased.
Allegiance: Sea Pirate
How They Died: Westerners and Europeans were such silly little creatures that didn't seem very favorable towards giving up hope. They went about their high-end lives each and every single day living in nothing but the luxury of comfort. For them there was time for useless things like philosophy and the great arts. In their lives there was never the pressing concern about food supplies and shortages in a household. Walking out alone at night was acceptable; after all, what could possibly be waiting in the well-lit streets to pounce them? It was not as if there were any screams to pierce the silence in the dead of night to ward them away. They lived their lives so peacefully that something like morals was affordable to them.
Not a single one of them would have lasted even five minutes in her home. They were all too soft, too reluctant to take the life of another. The Barang of the world had regressed so far that the survival of their own lives would find tough competition with the morals that they had brought themselves up around. For them there would be a second's hesitation to bring the bullet to the head of a child and in that second, the child would send a bullet in-between their own eyes without so much as blinking. In this world their high and mighty morals would do no good.
One thing the female would warrant to them though, they were prideful creatures who used this pride to carry them on forward. It was a trait that she could understand, the only one she could relate to with ease despite the miles and cultures that separated their worlds. The vice of pride would have driven a European to do this very same thing, wouldn't it have? Pride of the nation, pride of the people, pride of existence; wouldn't that pride have driven them to take up into the army against the invaders that seemed hellbent on stamping out their pride?
Cambodia liked to think that the vain little creatures would have allowed their pride to drive them to the battlefield. It made her feel better to think that there were masses of dead humans out there that would have made the same mistakes if given the chance because of their pride. They must have died proud as well; they had fought for their homes and loved ones. It was an honorable death.
A death that she would have much preferred to the knife shoved deeply into her gut in the privacy of her own bedroom. At least it wouldn't have been as humiliating on the battlefield to have been killed. Honestly, what nation was caught so off-guard like this in the haven of the night? Those Western nations and filthy Europeans perhaps but one who had lived her life in a state of constant warfare shouldn't have been taken so easily like this. Hadn't paranoia taught her better than to think she was safe anywhere?
Irrational as it was for the female nation to be angry, she would rather be angry than scared. Pure stubbornness and pride overrode the instinct to cry out as the red flower began to bloom across the dark material of her shirt. Cambodia would not give this stranger any more satisfaction than he had already gained from taking this knife into her body. If she could hoard even the tiniest thing that would bar him from his sadistic pleasure then she certainly didn't mind that. Besides, death was not something she had been raised to fear. There were pleasures to holding a firm belief in reincarnation.
Dark eyes flickered down to the foreign object protruding from her body with such an eerie coldness that it seemed unnatural of human eyes. Then again, Cambodia wasn't something to be considered human. "Hmmm." Accompanying the small noise fingertips danced upon the shining metal as she leaned back a bit more against the wall. "You certainly are a stupid man, aren't you?" Without understanding why Veata felt a deep laugh shake her form. Still, there was truth to her statement. "I'm going to have fun coming back to kill you in my next life. I'm going to make sure to hunt you down and show how to properly kill with a knife. Doesn't that sound fun?"
Laughter was cut short though as a soft voice whispered sweetly to her, "I do not need to worry. I will be long dead before your return, Miss Cambodia." The silhouette gave an elegant bow before turning sharply on its' heels and leaving the room, ignoring the feral snarl that rose up from the nation's throat as a deep red of another nature took over her mind. Reincarnation did not seem as pleasant anymore if it did not mean she could wring her hands around the neck of the man who had done this. A new life was useless if it meant she would have to wait patiently to torture and abuse those that she pleased to.
One last inhuman noise was wretched from her throat as she fought to stay awake. The nation didn't care how many years and lives would come to pass; she was going to tear her nails into and rip out the flesh of the male that had done this to her. She was going to haunt, she was going to hunt, she was going to kill...
Did you read the rules? Who is a Beastie?: Jack Sparrow
Country of Origin: The Kingdom of Cambodia
Gender Female
Age: 17-years-old
Height: 5'1''
Weight: 104 pds.
Appearance: A young female that has yet to complete the first quarter of her lifespan, her physical appearance has not quite lost touch with her childhood features. Her heart-shaped face and light curves give off an air of maturity but dark brown eyes alit with childish joy and a gentle smile brought about by the simplest pleasures brings to her a certain childhood innocence often lost in adulthood. Like many human teenagers approaching the age of eighteen, Veata is within her own transition state, both physically and mentally, that leaves behind an odd mix of adult and child features mixed together.
With her slim hands and elegant fingers she is quick to bring to life drawings of her simple but lush natural environment. Full lips push often into a childlike pout or an innocent smile just as easily as they can be used to give an alluring smile. Dark brown eyes that give the ability to pull males in are instead used to absorb a world that she has not quite grown into. Soft, raven black locks of hair cascade over her shoulders to her mid-back and often she plays with it. Her movements are fluid in her dancing, limbs slender and fragile, but her footsteps are nimble and quick in her walk. Put simply, she is a nation of contradictions at her age in life and this is often reflected in her physical appearance that seems to age beyond her mental state.
This transitioning state between childhood and adulthood is not to be seen as the only thing that plays heavily in her physical appearance. Like the people of her country she has always gone through life looking much younger than her age, especially when compared to those of the Barang, or white, world. Years of malnutrition and hard times, both financially and in terms of morals, have resulted in leaving behind a female that cannot grow properly. A thin waist envied by other females who are not quite so slim was caused by starvation under the hand of the Khmer Rouge. Her short height and small bones are due to the malnutrition as well as the taxing physical labor she was forced into only some years ago. Her innocent smile caused only by the savoring of the simple things that were snatched away from her years ago.
One thing to be noted that is large in marring the girl’s physical appearance are the scars that run all along her back. Just as the war and hardship of being one of the weakest nations in the world in her previous life played a hand in making her physical appearance desirable, it also played a hand in causing a physical reminder upon her body that brings to mind things that are better left forgotten. The scars are deep in more than just a few ways and have yet to heal over fully. There is no particular pattern or image hidden within them, only a senseless piece of flesh much like the reasoning behind the violence her people were forced through. Occasionally her face will pull into a wince and her teeth will bite into her lip; this is a clear sign that the scars are irritating her and causing her pain once more. These scars are something she was born with in her reincarnation, something that is a reminder of her previous life.
In terms of fashion Veata has learned from her people the custom of hiding a good deal of her flesh at all times, even when swimming. Her everyday outfit consists usually of a soft, blue sarong scattered with a motif of golden leaves and a simple blouse, often a light type of color rather than dark. When she isn’t running about barefooted then her feet are adorned with a pair of flip flops that cannot be seen considering the length of her sarong. The female can also be seen often with some type of parasol nearby to hide her pale skin from the damaging effects of the sun’s rays.
Crew member of: Not Affiliated
Status: N/A
Pet: N/A
Crest: N/A
Personality: A girl that hides behind the mask of tradition and culture, Veata presents herself a quiet and often soft-spoken female in the eyes of those that do not know her. She is polite with her calm demeanor, shy with her flickering eyes that will never meet the eyes of an elder, respectful with the slight bow of her head. To those that do not know her well she is a quiet little deer that brings a smile to their faces to think about this little girl that has yet to grow fully in the world. She is the ideal Khmer woman at first sight; a woman that walks without a noise, that smiles without showing her teeth, that speaks without revealing a loud voice.
As time passes on though and those around her step a little closer to her heart they find first impressions truly can’t be trusted. With small baby steps she will begin to reveal a little more of her true self to those that she deems suitable friends and allies. It is a process that takes months instead of weeks, sometimes extending as far as years, to get Veata to reveal who she truly is. It isn’t something that she is comfortable with which reflects her own self consciousness. Who she is doesn’t always fit well with the image of the ideal Khmer woman; it is a knowledge that often makes her feel ashamed. True, there are certain traits about that do fit well with the ideal but more often than not her true thoughts and actions would be looked down upon by elders.
Veata is indeed a respectful child that understands her boundaries. To elders she will bow her head slightly and never will she look them, or any male for that matter, in the eye. Her footsteps are light but only when she remembers how she is meant to properly walk and while her voice isn’t as soft-spoken as the people of her nation wish it would be, she isn’t the most boisterous or loud female there is. No, what truly sets her apart from the Khmer ideal is her way of thinking and her personality. She will not allow herself to be bullied and ordered around by anyone, not even an older man, nor will she tolerate being treated like a mere possession like many of the women in Cambodia do.
The female is playful still despite her age as well as eager to continue to learn and expand her world in terms of academics. She is a hard working young adult that throws her all into everything she does. She is passionate about what she loves and will not be the type of female to give up too easily. When a person can pull the mask away from that fabricated image of herself they will find a bright and cheerful girl albeit confused in this modernizing world. The female wants to be the ideal Khmer woman, an Aspara, but she finds herself struggling with this in the modernizing world. She has an education, something unheard of between females before, she thinks and argues against men, something frowned upon, but more importantly she is wandering away from the path of her ancestors.
With each passing day spent with her a little more insight to the female’s personality is gained. She is shy but not in the typical way that people think of shy; she has no trouble making friends or introducing herself to others but she is shy in letting them too close in fear that they will judge what she is truly like. When she is allowed around those that she knows love her she reveals a young female still learning her place in the world. Sometimes she is confused but pride prevents her from asking for help. Instead she prefers to give advice and to guide others through their own troublesome times rather than face her own dark ghosts and devils. She is an awkward female that is still growing into her own skin. This makes her extremely self conscious as well and many a thought are spent on examining what others think of her.
To loved ones she is protective, to enemies she holds large grudges that are not easily forgotten. When she is happy there is something about her lithe form that alerts others to it. When she is sad she will not frown but will instead express what she feels through the smallest, physical movements. Nothing about her is seemingly upfront in her words and the only way to decipher the girl is to look to her face. She does not hide what she feels or thinks upon her facial expressions. Veata is also seen as an extremely optimistic child despite her hardships. Her strong will to live will not allow for the young female to give up and like the people of her home, she faces each and every day with a bright smile despite her dark past. She would give up everything she has and is for the knowledge that those she loves the most will always be protected throughout their lives even after she is long gone.
History: Veata was born to a once aristocratic family residing in Cambodia that left the court in favor of living in the countryside in a small village. They were no longer considered a piece of this court but Veata was still raised much in the manner of the other nobles of the nation that were raised in the capitol. She was the youngest child of the family of eight, all of whom were male as her mother died giving birth to her. Despite being the cause of her mother’s death, she was doted upon heavily as child and loved by every single member of this family. Her whole world was quickly compromised of these males that did their best to protect the female from the horrors of this world. She grew up homeschooled and sheltered from the outside that was quickly falling to pieces. Her father would have gladly died for her if it meant that she was to live out the rest of her life protected the way that she had during childhood and Veata believed this claim. Family was very important to her and at a moment’s notice, she would have given everything up if it meant they would live happily.
It never occurred to anybody during this time that her father would have to live on his promise to give his life up to save her own…
Upon what most assumed to be a peaceful night to celebrat her birthday, bandits stormed into her father’s home and quickly began to slaughter everything in sight. Her father, realizing that it was too late to escape, placed her in one of the hidden rooms and left her to face his own death in the courtyards. His position that once was among the nobles was the thing that would bring his death; he understood that but his children need not follow him needlessly so each had been placed into a different hiding spot. It was perhaps the longest night of her young life accompanied only by the sounds of distant screams and the screams of tortured souls as well as the knowledge that her family had left her behind to face something she couldn’t see. She was without the knowledge of where her own brothers and father were. The other children of the village did not matter to her for her father had isolated the female from them.
When the morning came, there was a heavy silence as this little girl struggled out of the hidden room only to meet the sight of blood-stained wood. Perhaps at that moment she realized what had happened but hope, the foolish thing that it was, led the girl to wander in search of her family. In her was the refusal to acknowledge that her family was lying dead upon the stones but rather in their own hiding places, tending to any wounds that they may have. It was only when she ran into their private courtyard and overturned the dead bodies to meet their glazed eyes did she allow for reality to tear into her small frame. Distress shook the form of the child as she stared at the face of the man that could only be her father.
For two months, everything was a blur for the small child filled with things she would have favored to forget but were forever imprinted in her heart. She wandered the ruins of her home and village with the glazed look of a lost ghost that did not realize it had died yet. Where food came she would eat without thinking, where she would please to sleep she would sleep, curled up to the decaying body of her father as if he would wake in the morning for her. Psychologically her mind could not handle it and without realizing it, Veata begin to slip into a world that existed only in her mind. She began to speak aloud as if her father and brothers were nearby, taking care of her. She ran through the village streets laughing and kicking a ball as if there were other children playing with her as well. In truth, the survivors who had managed to escape the bandits could only take pity upon her but none could coax her out from her deluded reality. Not even the other children who had played a hand in her upbringing.
Veata would not be broken from her stupor until the day she found a heavy rain in the monsoon season steal away a comb her father had brought her for her birthday but had never presented to her. On this very same day she had noted the abscence of several of the other villagers that had chosen to stay behind. Namely, Yong Soo and another little girl she often fought with. The sight of something that was not meant to exist in the world she created and the knowledge of what should belong was missing broke her away from that dream-reality and back to the hard truth.
Eight years passed and Veata found herself just barely surviving by the skills of her exotic dancing. Pride and chastity prevented the girl from selling herself to strangers despite their sweet promises to care after her just as much as it prevented her from taking up the lowly job of putting herself in the service of the families that had escaped the merciless torture of the Vietnamese. It was while putting on a performance at the seaport that Veata found herself spiraling into the life of a pirate. There was a captain there that was quick to realize her potential and even quicker to her lure her onto his crew with clever words and dreams of the freedom that she could have. Her heart, sore still from the death of her family and tired of pushing people away, is the main factor that lead her to an agreement of working for his man.
Time passed though and the Captain eventually fell ill and died. Finding nothing else keeping her there the young female left her original crew to carry out her own life as she pleased.
Allegiance: Sea Pirate
How They Died: Westerners and Europeans were such silly little creatures that didn't seem very favorable towards giving up hope. They went about their high-end lives each and every single day living in nothing but the luxury of comfort. For them there was time for useless things like philosophy and the great arts. In their lives there was never the pressing concern about food supplies and shortages in a household. Walking out alone at night was acceptable; after all, what could possibly be waiting in the well-lit streets to pounce them? It was not as if there were any screams to pierce the silence in the dead of night to ward them away. They lived their lives so peacefully that something like morals was affordable to them.
Not a single one of them would have lasted even five minutes in her home. They were all too soft, too reluctant to take the life of another. The Barang of the world had regressed so far that the survival of their own lives would find tough competition with the morals that they had brought themselves up around. For them there would be a second's hesitation to bring the bullet to the head of a child and in that second, the child would send a bullet in-between their own eyes without so much as blinking. In this world their high and mighty morals would do no good.
One thing the female would warrant to them though, they were prideful creatures who used this pride to carry them on forward. It was a trait that she could understand, the only one she could relate to with ease despite the miles and cultures that separated their worlds. The vice of pride would have driven a European to do this very same thing, wouldn't it have? Pride of the nation, pride of the people, pride of existence; wouldn't that pride have driven them to take up into the army against the invaders that seemed hellbent on stamping out their pride?
Cambodia liked to think that the vain little creatures would have allowed their pride to drive them to the battlefield. It made her feel better to think that there were masses of dead humans out there that would have made the same mistakes if given the chance because of their pride. They must have died proud as well; they had fought for their homes and loved ones. It was an honorable death.
A death that she would have much preferred to the knife shoved deeply into her gut in the privacy of her own bedroom. At least it wouldn't have been as humiliating on the battlefield to have been killed. Honestly, what nation was caught so off-guard like this in the haven of the night? Those Western nations and filthy Europeans perhaps but one who had lived her life in a state of constant warfare shouldn't have been taken so easily like this. Hadn't paranoia taught her better than to think she was safe anywhere?
Irrational as it was for the female nation to be angry, she would rather be angry than scared. Pure stubbornness and pride overrode the instinct to cry out as the red flower began to bloom across the dark material of her shirt. Cambodia would not give this stranger any more satisfaction than he had already gained from taking this knife into her body. If she could hoard even the tiniest thing that would bar him from his sadistic pleasure then she certainly didn't mind that. Besides, death was not something she had been raised to fear. There were pleasures to holding a firm belief in reincarnation.
Dark eyes flickered down to the foreign object protruding from her body with such an eerie coldness that it seemed unnatural of human eyes. Then again, Cambodia wasn't something to be considered human. "Hmmm." Accompanying the small noise fingertips danced upon the shining metal as she leaned back a bit more against the wall. "You certainly are a stupid man, aren't you?" Without understanding why Veata felt a deep laugh shake her form. Still, there was truth to her statement. "I'm going to have fun coming back to kill you in my next life. I'm going to make sure to hunt you down and show how to properly kill with a knife. Doesn't that sound fun?"
Laughter was cut short though as a soft voice whispered sweetly to her, "I do not need to worry. I will be long dead before your return, Miss Cambodia." The silhouette gave an elegant bow before turning sharply on its' heels and leaving the room, ignoring the feral snarl that rose up from the nation's throat as a deep red of another nature took over her mind. Reincarnation did not seem as pleasant anymore if it did not mean she could wring her hands around the neck of the man who had done this. A new life was useless if it meant she would have to wait patiently to torture and abuse those that she pleased to.
One last inhuman noise was wretched from her throat as she fought to stay awake. The nation didn't care how many years and lives would come to pass; she was going to tear her nails into and rip out the flesh of the male that had done this to her. She was going to haunt, she was going to hunt, she was going to kill...
Did you read the rules? Who is a Beastie?: Jack Sparrow
