Smile for Me [Neria]

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[bg=#352322][style=text-align:center;color:#dbdbdb;font-family:monospace;font-size:7pt;letter-spacing:-1pt;]YOU'RE MY SECRET LOVER ALWAYS UNDERCOVER NO ONE CAN KNOW ABOUT THIS KEEP THE LIGHT DOWN[/style]

[bg=#dbdbdb][style=text-align:justify;padding:20px;font-size:7pt;color:#474747;font-family:arial;height:250px;overflow:-moz-scrollbars-vertical;overflow-y: auto;]Despite a few rifts here and there, France has been a fairly consistent supporter of Israel since her establishment back in ’48. He liked to consider himself one of her strongest European allies alongside Britain, who was the first to promise her reinstatement. What truly solidified Francis’s mind in the matter were the true horrors that Neria was subjected to as well as his elongated occupation during the war. Afterwards, he remained true to his promise and supplied her with French-made weapons. A conflict that actually banded together France, Britain, and Israel was the Sinai war in 1956, an effort that was a victory for the Anglo-Israeli-French coalition… though America had to ruin it by forcing the three of them to return what they had taken from Egypt. Sort of funny (in an unamusing way), considering what Alfred would come to be for her in the future. Now, France continued to be one of her foremost allies by giving her something marvelous… truly advanced for the late 1950’s… the Mirage. It was going to be Neria’s most advanced aircraft to date and her first serious combat aircraft. Francis had little doubt that in the coming decades; she would probably work to develop her own fighter aircraft. In the years that Francis had really begun to know Neria at a personal level, he became more aware of the nation's fighting spirit—so bright, determined, and quite beautiful… And that’s what drew the Frenchman to Neria’s borders, bearing gifts along with a solid agreement between the two of them that would hopefully be signed, forging an alliance… One that would further cement the one that they already had. Francis’s defense minister, Monsieur Perrin, advised him that it would be in both of the nations’ best interests to provide Neria with a nuclear reactor. In exchange for military support, of course... Francis knew that he held the better cards in either case. Israel had few allies in the world, but Neria had indeed, wrought a soft spot in his heart since the war that tore Europe to shreds. Neria and her bright, lovely spirit, so burdened beneath the weight of worldly hatred. Yes, the small nation meant something to him since that bittersweet moment of her reinstatement. Currently, Francis stood within the waiting area of her new home. He was dressed to impress and held a document that would hopefully awaken that beautiful smile of hers once more. Francis so admired beautiful things… and he wasn’t about to let one die in a world that had just seen a centuries worth of bloodshed and decay. He had yet to see that sort of expression from Neria. A genuine one. He wasn’t surprised; however, that it might be difficult for her to find something to smile about. In his other gentle grasp was a modest gathering of roses, tied together with deep, red satin bindings. As he waited, he thought back on the last meeting that they had together, one where their prime ministers did most of the talking, agreeing to military support. The French were going to do much more than just that by giving her a nuclear reactor. Enriched with uranium along with the means to produce plutonium. All for Israel to start in her own direction. She would soon develop her own physical strength and become a force to be reckoned with. But even having such power was useless in a world that despised her very existence. Francis sighed, looking a bit morose, as he smoothed his thumb across one of the velvet soft rose petals, waiting and secretly hoping for something that held a bit more than a steel promise between their alliance. [/style]

[bg=#dbdbdb][style=color:#352322;font-family:georgia;text-align:center;font-size:15pt;]more than a pretty face beside a train,[/style]

[bg=#352322][atrb=style,border-radius:0px 0px 25px 25px; -moz-border-radius: 0px 15px 15px 0px][style=color:#dbdbdb;padding:10px 20px 10px 20px;font-size:7pt;font-family:monospace;line-height:8pt;]NOTES ! =D TAG ! Rye/Neria TIME ! 1957 CREDIT ! tag of ote![/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true] [atrb=style,background-color: #e1e1e1; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.8; border-top: #998899 solid 5px; -moz-border-radius-topleft: 200px; border-radius: 200px 0px 0px 0px;][atrb=width,440,true][style=float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/neri_zps02b34fe3.png); -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; border: #998899 solid 3px;] [/style] [style=font-family: georgia; font-size: 36px; color: #998899; letter-spacing: -3px; text-transform: lowercase; margin-left: 115px; margin-top: -5px;]WHO ARE YOU THIS TIME?[/style][style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 8px; color: #838383; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; line-height: 5px; padding-left: 125px; padding-right: 30px; margin-top: -5;]ARE YOU ONE OF US, FLYING BLIND? CAUSE I'M DOWN HERE THROWING STONES WHILE YOU'RE SO FAR FROM HOME. AND IF THERE IS A GOD, I KNOW THEY'RE ON TV, THE SPIES WITH BEDROOM EYES THAT COWER IN OUR SKIES.[/style] [style=width: 75px; height: 75px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/neri_zps02b34fe3.png); -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100%; border: #998899 solid 3px; margin-left: 98px;] [/style] [style=width: 45px; height: 45px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/neri_zps02b34fe3.png); -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100%; border: #998899 solid 3px; margin-left: 190px; margin-top: -90px;] [/style] [style=float: right; width: 160px; height: 65px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 9px; color: #676767; padding: 5px; margin-top: -50px; overflow: auto;]tags,

[/font] marv/france
time,[/font] 1957.
notes,[/font] --[/style]

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❚ UP UNTIL A DECADE EARLIER,[/color] Neria had not hoped for much. There were several points in history prior to the second World War when she thought that she might fade… from history and from existence. Her people had been dispersed and without a home for many, many centuries… and yet here she still was, wandering and still very much alive. Neria often speculated if it was her people’s spirit and determination that preserved them throughout the years, or if it truly was a higher power that still desired her people despite all those silent, lonely years. Neria wasn’t sure of what to think at this point in time. When Arthur had made that seemingly impossible promise to her four decades before, she hadn’t believed in it. How could she? No one had ever given her cause to believe something that was too good to be true.

But somehow—after she had gone through pure, agonising hell—it was made reality. When she came close to resigning her fate with her dying people, she had done so not knowing how many of her people were still in the world: America, Russia, Canada, parts of Africa. Yes, Europe had destroyed a third of her, but she was still alive because of the others…

Even a decade later (currently 1957), Neria was still physically recuperating, as nations’ recovery depended wholly on the recovery of their land and people. And she still felt that gaping, bloody hole that had been left by the war. Her scars were horrific and many, while still causing her a considerable amount of pain. Even now, Neria felt inconsolably ugly and undesirable because of her wounds. Yes, she was used to being marred like this, but it had been a while since she had felt this to such an immense scale. Her heart was still broken for what had happened and she wasn’t quite sure how it could continue beating as if nothing had happened... But despite these obstacles, she was more determined than ever to move forward. She was unwavering in her new objective to receive her people specifically from Russia; people who desired to escape from the Soviet Union, but obviously would not be allowed to leave.

At the moment, Neria was trying her best to prepare for Francis’s arrival. She was still very unused to her new home, but it still felt more like home to her than anything else before that. She never belonged anywhere. The girl was a vagabond, a wanderer, an outcast for centuries. Even as she was getting herself ready, Neria still had trouble looking at herself in the mirror. She didn’t want to see the thin face with the heavy grief still lining her dark eyes. No, she hadn’t smiled in years. It pained her to even attempt one.

Neria tried to find a dress that hid most of her scars while also hiding the fact that she was no longer the strong-looking, vibrant young woman that she used to be. Now, her body was too thin to resemble anything attractive. Too knobby and awkward to be wanted. Running her fingers through her choppy, recently regrown hair, it was still so thin and achingly parched looking. A part of her didn’t want to face her new ally, not when she still looked like she was recovering torture victim. Still holding her head high, Neria tightened the dressy shawl over her shoulders, trying to trap in whatever warmth remained. Making her way to the area where Francis was waiting, she tightened her lips in a vague attempt at a polite smile upon seeing him. ”It’s so good to see you,” she finally spoke, gratitude painting her tone as she held out her hand in greeting. The woman’s face felt like it had been dipped into a fever and her heart felt like it was beating a little too hard when she noticed how elegant and… well, how striking he was. Garishly contrasting with her ugly, battle torn self. She quickly averted her eyes.

[/style][style=width: 420px; height: 42px; background-image: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/ziop3d.png); font-size: 9px; text-align: center; color: #676767;] made by ayu from on the edge[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[th][bg=#dbdbdb][atrb=width,350px,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border-radius:25px 25px 0px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 0px 0px][style=padding:9px; border-radius: 2px 2px 0px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 0px 0px;text-align:center;color:#dbdbdb;] [/style]

[bg=#352322][style=text-align:center;color:#dbdbdb;font-family:monospace;font-size:7pt;letter-spacing:-1pt;]YOU'RE MY SECRET LOVER ALWAYS UNDERCOVER NO ONE CAN KNOW ABOUT THIS KEEP THE LIGHT DOWN[/style]

[bg=#dbdbdb][style=text-align:justify;padding:20px;font-size:7pt;color:#474747;font-family:arial;height:250px;overflow:-moz-scrollbars-vertical;overflow-y: auto;]Francis remembered Neria from way back when... specifically during the Crusades. Though they were both substantially younger at that time--Francis more like a child, so of course, his recollections of her weren't as vivid before she had been ousted from her land. And, really, he felt that he had just recently became reacquainted with the female nation... almost getting to know her for the first time. Not surprising, considering that she had been wandering and without a home for so long. Regardless of if she had ownership over her physical self (her land,) he still considered her a nation. Her people were still a part of her and she a part of them. The Frenchman's eyes traveled over Neria's body, for once without his usual lewd purposes, but more so just noticing how thin she still appeared. Even with her attempt to hide the scars, hints of them where the clothing didn't quite cover the extent of her pain were still visible. And he also couldn't stop from noticing the sadness that lined her expression like a shroud. Despite her gaining her status and land back, she still seemed to carry those same heavy burdens. And it was evident just by looking at her. Francis felt for Neria; he really did. It was part of the reason for why he was so adamant with becoming her ally after the end of the war... Especially when all the Arab nations declared immediate war on her days after her reinstatement. And so soon after going through such an immense tragedy, too... The world could be cruel... and sometimes Francis really had no words for it. Despite her battle-ridden appearance, Francis still thought that she was lovely. Her plucky spirit really shown through... and for that alone, she was radiant. Francis responded to her attempt at a smile with a genuine one of his own, secretly hoping that she would eventually offer him one in return sometime during his extended stay. He took the offered hand and bent to brush his lips across the ridges of her fingers. His thumb caressed the underside of her palm before he released it. "I hoped to come sooner, ma chère." Looking over her once more, he added. "And likewise... It's always a pleasure to meet with you." With a light curve to his mouth, he offered the modest collection of roses. "And these are for you, la belle. Le prix d'amour, c'est seulement amour." Inadvertently, he was referring to their fresh alliance--one which he desired to give more than to receive. Noticing her flushed expression, his own attention was piqued, giving a kind smile. Really, his main objective at this point was to put her at ease and he wanted nothing more than to be a calming presence for her this evening. Speaking of which, he drew focus to the next thing in mind. "What did you have in mind for dinner, chérie?" She had warned him beforehand that they would be doing something a little different for dinner... Whatever it was, Francis felt prepared to do just about anything. [/style]

[bg=#dbdbdb][style=color:#352322;font-family:georgia;text-align:center;font-size:15pt;]more than a pretty face beside a train,[/style]

[bg=#352322][atrb=style,border-radius:0px 0px 25px 25px; -moz-border-radius: 0px 15px 15px 0px][style=color:#dbdbdb;padding:10px 20px 10px 20px;font-size:7pt;font-family:monospace;line-height:8pt;]NOTES ! =D TAG ! Rye/Neria TIME ! 1957 CREDIT ! tag of ote![/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true] [atrb=style,background-color: #e1e1e1; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.8; border-top: #998899 solid 5px; -moz-border-radius-topleft: 200px; border-radius: 200px 0px 0px 0px;][atrb=width,440,true][style=float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/neri_zps02b34fe3.png); -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; border: #998899 solid 3px;] [/style] [style=font-family: georgia; font-size: 36px; color: #998899; letter-spacing: -3px; text-transform: lowercase; margin-left: 115px; margin-top: -5px;]WHO ARE YOU THIS TIME?[/style][style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 8px; color: #838383; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; line-height: 5px; padding-left: 125px; padding-right: 30px; margin-top: -5;]ARE YOU ONE OF US, FLYING BLIND? CAUSE I'M DOWN HERE THROWING STONES WHILE YOU'RE SO FAR FROM HOME. AND IF THERE IS A GOD, I KNOW THEY'RE ON TV, THE SPIES WITH BEDROOM EYES THAT COWER IN OUR SKIES.[/style] [style=width: 75px; height: 75px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/neri_zps02b34fe3.png); -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100%; border: #998899 solid 3px; margin-left: 98px;] [/style] [style=width: 45px; height: 45px; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/neri_zps02b34fe3.png); -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100%; border: #998899 solid 3px; margin-left: 190px; margin-top: -90px;] [/style] [style=float: right; width: 160px; height: 65px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 9px; color: #676767; padding: 5px; margin-top: -50px; overflow: auto;]tags,

[/font] marv/france
time,[/font] 1957.
notes,[/font] --[/style]

[style=background-color: #d4d4d4; opacity: 0.7; width: 400x; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 9px; color: #2a2a2a; text-align: justify; padding: 13px; margin-top: 20px; border-left: #998899 solid 5px; border-bottom: #998899 solid 2px; height: 350px; overflow: auto;]
❚ NERIA HELD VERY DARK MEMORIES[/color] of the Crusades and she rather desired to avoid revisiting those memories if she could help it. Her people were met with only the most brutal of treatments: raped, tortured, and put to death by these so called warriors appointed by the most gracious Pope himself. But war was war. That was the expected result, no matter how supposedly noble the cause was. Neri wasn’t as young as her tormentors, for even then she had been around for a very long time, but she was still young enough to have an inkling of naivety for the Western World.

Noticing the way that Francis’s eyes moved down her body, Neria suddenly felt very self-conscious, nervously stroking the dry strands of her newly grown hair and averting her eyes. She couldn’t tell why he did it... either being inappropriate or simply noticing her physical state. Neither of the possible reasons were particularly comforting to the nation, so the longer he stared, the more she fidgeted... What Neria didn’t expect was for Francis to actually kiss her hand instead of offering a simple handshake. Her face grew fevered and she was quick to retrieve her fingers, trying not to think too much on how smooth his lips were against her skin. And what’s more—he even handed her roses... Good Lord, could this day get any stranger? None had never been like this with her before. She wasn’t used to receiving compliments or being treated like… well, like a lady…

”Thank you,” she mumbled awkwardly, staring at the too-lovely roses in her tight grasp, even more so when she caught what he had said to her in his native language. One that she vaguely understood during her wanderings. A part of her wanted to lash out at him for calling her beautiful when she felt far from it. But at the same time, a compliment is still just a compliment… meant to flatter. And it did to a small extent. Her lips pressed tightly together, not finding any words to properly respond.

She wanted the nightmares to stop tormenting her… like they probably would for decades to come. Even if it was only for one night. For once, the normally strong Neria needed someone to stand with her. For one in her God damned life… she wanted to feel like she wasn’t completely despised… looked at like the sludge beneath peoples’ boots. Like she was worthwhile. When the subject of dinner was brought up, Neria was able to ignore some of those complicated feelings and more on their plans for the evening. ”Oh right! Ah—yes, I thought we could try… something a little different,” was her steady, trying-to-keep-it-together reply.

The female nation led Francis deeper into her home. Much of it was still unfinished, barely hers and still so new… Eventually, she led him to the kitchen where there were freshly bought bags of food and parceled items from the marketplace. ”I… thought it might be nice to cook...” She gave him a weak smile, barely peeking through. ”I haven’t in a while… so I thought it’d be a nice change… I used to like cooking,” she rambled on as she began to unpack some of the items from her bags, placing some of it in the icebox to keep it cool. Between statements, her gaze occasionally drifted back towards Francis, finding it difficult to keep her attention strictly on unpacking the food...


[/style][style=width: 420px; height: 42px; background-image: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/ziop3d.png); font-size: 9px; text-align: center; color: #676767;] made by ayu from on the edge[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[th][bg=#dbdbdb][atrb=width,350px,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border-radius:25px 25px 0px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 0px 0px][style=padding:9px; border-radius: 2px 2px 0px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 0px 0px;text-align:center;color:#dbdbdb;] [/style]

[bg=#352322][style=text-align:center;color:#dbdbdb;font-family:monospace;font-size:7pt;letter-spacing:-1pt;]YOU'RE MY SECRET LOVER ALWAYS UNDERCOVER NO ONE CAN KNOW ABOUT THIS KEEP THE LIGHT DOWN[/style]

[bg=#dbdbdb][style=text-align:justify;padding:20px;font-size:7pt;color:#474747;font-family:arial;height:250px;overflow:-moz-scrollbars-vertical;overflow-y: auto;]It was all too noticeable that Neria was feeling uncomfortable with the way that Francis scrutinized her, so he kept his staring to a minimum. At least only when she noticed… even now, he slipped a glance across her shoulders as he moved to hang his coat. Francis internally beamed when he saw Neria’s reaction to his borderline (according to him) romantic gestures. All of them were deliberate and he had every intention to treat her like the lovely lady she was. His personal objective was to get her to see that as well… In a way, he wanted to help build her up immediately following the devastation of war. None of them needed it more than her. "Je t'en prie…” he murmured close to her ear. Anything that brought her pleasure brought him pleasure... and he would let her know that. Francis had been familiar with Neria during her wanderings throughout Europe, so he was also familiar with the fact that she had an intermediate understanding of his language, which also pleased him. A small frown found its way to the Frenchman’s mouth when he noticed Neria’s tense reaction to his compliment. Obviously, she wasn’t ready for that quite yet… In the meantime, he would hold them off. Come on a bit softer than before to ease her resolve. She looked like she had a myriad of thoughts going through her mind at once. Everything from her expressions, tone, to her words alerted him to the fact that she was distracted. Whatever was going through her head seemed to trouble her a great deal… but again, Francis wasn’t really in any position to ask about that, as he was still trying to slide his way into her confidence. In all truth, he wanted to stand by Israel and to stay loyal to her… however, Neria still had to allow him to be that. Little did either of them know, he would break that confidence as soon as he had gained it in the near future… Francis’s brow rose in interest at her suggestion that they try something a little different. ”Aha, oui ... bien sûr,” he winked at Neria. ”I am always ready for something différent.” He wasn’t far behind as Neria showed him further into the home, his eyes frequently trailing from the walls to the female nation’s appealing little backside. As soon as they made it to the kitchen, Francis averted his stare just as Neria glanced back at him, hopefully not getting caught at checking her out… again. His attention, however, was immediately caught the moment she mentioned that they would be cooking. ”Oui? That sounds étonnant,” he grinned at her. Obviously, cooking was a passion of his, so this lovely evening was already getting better. Francis began to help Neria unpack her groceries, though looking over what they had; he wondered what she had in mind for their evening meal. ”I heard that you did it well, mon chou,” he flashed her a smile, noticing with a small amount of smugness that he caught her watching him a few times. ”I can’t wait to try it.” Pulling out a few drawers, Francis finally managed to find the a few waist aprons and pulled them out. His eyes drifted about the kitchen, wondering where Neria kept the cooking instruments aside from the obvious ones already set on the counter. [/style]

[bg=#dbdbdb][style=color:#352322;font-family:georgia;text-align:center;font-size:15pt;]more than a pretty face beside a train,[/style]

[bg=#352322][atrb=style,border-radius:0px 0px 25px 25px; -moz-border-radius: 0px 15px 15px 0px][style=color:#dbdbdb;padding:10px 20px 10px 20px;font-size:7pt;font-family:monospace;line-height:8pt;]NOTES ! =D TAG ! Rye/Neria TIME ! 1957 CREDIT ! tag of ote![/style]