Natasha Romanoff (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theassassin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2013-03-09 04:57 pm
theassassin) wrote in poly_chromatic2013-03-09 04:57 pm
Entry tags:
010 || [Accidental Video] || Let me see you dance
[Video]
[The feed opens up to nothing but a blank screen and flickers a few moments before it begins to bleed into focus. It's difficult to see... smoke swirls around the view and young girl can be heard coughing and crying but she's out of view...
Her earliest, most clear memory is of fire. Hot, unforgiving, and filling the air with choking, black smoke. She remembers thinking that this is what it is like to die, alone in the dark, and unable to taste clean air. She remembers the pleading. She remembers her mother’s voice, or what she believes is her mother’s voice, begging the soldiers who came to kill them. Begging them to “please save the child.” Sobbing, and crying out for them to “have mercy on her poor baby girl.” Her mother did beg for her own life, only for the child.
Maybe if she had things would have ended that night, maybe if she had everything would have been different. One of them does, against his orders he does, and she remembers the smell of smoke and his heavy cotton uniform. She remembers being cradled against him in the cold. She remembers that he saved her from the fire, and that years later he’ll throw her into another one.
She remembers traveling with him, city after city, camping in the snow. She remembers singing songs and dancing around campfires. Feeling like he loved her like his own, but now she realizes that was just a childish fantasy. But back then, after losing everything, this soldier…was as close as she had to family, he was her world, and she loved him. Then he handed her over to them… and everything she thought she knew about love fell apart and scattered into the wind.
She remembers crying… and screaming for Ivan to come back, for him to let her stay. She remembers pleading and screaming that she would be good. She remembers more than anything the cold look he gave her when he told her this was going to be her home now, and turned his back on her. She remembers her new handler telling her to quit being a child, and telling him that she thought…that she thought Ivan loved her, that she was like a daughter to him. He just laughed at her and dragged her away, still crying and locked her in a tiny dark room. They left her there until she decided to behave. She doesn’t remember how long that was.
Years went by, she trained and learned, she did everything they asked of her and then some. She learned to not love any single person, she learned to love her country and no other. They told her that one day, she would be strong enough, fast enough, and smart enough to make those that took everything from her pay for what they did. What they didn’t tell her, was that it was the very same country she had grown to love so much that was the one who robbed her of her childhood, why would they?
She didn’t know then, but they fed her lies and she soaked them up with the eagerness of a child, she was not much more than one anyway. They fed her lies about the terrible Americans, and the crimes they had committed against Mother Russia, about the families they had killed and the children they left orphaned just like her. Everything, just fuel added to the burning fire of hatred that burned inside her.
They expected her to be good, but they never expected her to surpass every expectation they had for her, for any of their ‘recruits’. Soon enough, not even their best trainers are any match for her, she can best every one of them with ease. Her desire to be the best at everything, her discipline all a driving force pushing her forward and fanning the flames that have, and at this time she truly believes they have, consumed her heart.
She loves the fight; she loves the thrill of it. She loves pushing her limits to the edge of breaking and knowing how far she can go before she breaks. Knowing her body the way she does is what makes her better than all the other girls in the program, in her eyes the other girls are weak and no one is better than her.]
[/end video]
((OOC: Natasha has been cursed with memory theater today, and I apologize for the length, but anyway she's at home and has no idea that the phone showed such intimate details of her life to EVERYONE.))
[The feed opens up to nothing but a blank screen and flickers a few moments before it begins to bleed into focus. It's difficult to see... smoke swirls around the view and young girl can be heard coughing and crying but she's out of view...
Her earliest, most clear memory is of fire. Hot, unforgiving, and filling the air with choking, black smoke. She remembers thinking that this is what it is like to die, alone in the dark, and unable to taste clean air. She remembers the pleading. She remembers her mother’s voice, or what she believes is her mother’s voice, begging the soldiers who came to kill them. Begging them to “please save the child.” Sobbing, and crying out for them to “have mercy on her poor baby girl.” Her mother did beg for her own life, only for the child.
Maybe if she had things would have ended that night, maybe if she had everything would have been different. One of them does, against his orders he does, and she remembers the smell of smoke and his heavy cotton uniform. She remembers being cradled against him in the cold. She remembers that he saved her from the fire, and that years later he’ll throw her into another one.
She remembers traveling with him, city after city, camping in the snow. She remembers singing songs and dancing around campfires. Feeling like he loved her like his own, but now she realizes that was just a childish fantasy. But back then, after losing everything, this soldier…was as close as she had to family, he was her world, and she loved him. Then he handed her over to them… and everything she thought she knew about love fell apart and scattered into the wind.
She remembers crying… and screaming for Ivan to come back, for him to let her stay. She remembers pleading and screaming that she would be good. She remembers more than anything the cold look he gave her when he told her this was going to be her home now, and turned his back on her. She remembers her new handler telling her to quit being a child, and telling him that she thought…that she thought Ivan loved her, that she was like a daughter to him. He just laughed at her and dragged her away, still crying and locked her in a tiny dark room. They left her there until she decided to behave. She doesn’t remember how long that was.
Years went by, she trained and learned, she did everything they asked of her and then some. She learned to not love any single person, she learned to love her country and no other. They told her that one day, she would be strong enough, fast enough, and smart enough to make those that took everything from her pay for what they did. What they didn’t tell her, was that it was the very same country she had grown to love so much that was the one who robbed her of her childhood, why would they?
She didn’t know then, but they fed her lies and she soaked them up with the eagerness of a child, she was not much more than one anyway. They fed her lies about the terrible Americans, and the crimes they had committed against Mother Russia, about the families they had killed and the children they left orphaned just like her. Everything, just fuel added to the burning fire of hatred that burned inside her.
They expected her to be good, but they never expected her to surpass every expectation they had for her, for any of their ‘recruits’. Soon enough, not even their best trainers are any match for her, she can best every one of them with ease. Her desire to be the best at everything, her discipline all a driving force pushing her forward and fanning the flames that have, and at this time she truly believes they have, consumed her heart.
She loves the fight; she loves the thrill of it. She loves pushing her limits to the edge of breaking and knowing how far she can go before she breaks. Knowing her body the way she does is what makes her better than all the other girls in the program, in her eyes the other girls are weak and no one is better than her.]
[/end video]
((OOC: Natasha has been cursed with memory theater today, and I apologize for the length, but anyway she's at home and has no idea that the phone showed such intimate details of her life to EVERYONE.))
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Oh no. No... No.
With a sigh.]
No?
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[A laugh, although not a particularly amused one.]
I know that feeling.
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video; | accidental
The table is covered with photographs and drawings that Charles is apparently dating, labeling, and putting into bound books while he tries to drink his tea without sharing it with the dog that's arranged itself in his lap. ]
As if this particular brand of personal bloody insanity weren't trying enough for everyone involved, dragging bystanders into this shite no matter the desires of person affected and without their permission, here we have the grand idiocy of national powers deciding that their propaganda is so flawed that children require abuse and brainwashing.
Did no one tell them children grow up? For fuck's sake.
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And if weren't bad enough I broadcast that, I don't believe you realize you're broadcasting either.
[After a moment, allowing for him to realize where she's speaking from.]
It wouldn't have mattered to them anyway, we weren't children- we were soldiers. They could careless about allowing us to grow up and be anything other than the things they wanted us to be.
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[ Not that Charles seems too distressed by it, even if he'd rather not be cursing at all and sundry on record. ]
That seems to be the common logic in situations such as those, I'm learning. However...that is not necessarily how things work out. Of course, I won't pry, but I will never be able to accept decisions such as those as anything other than atrocities.
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We haven't met though I think I have seen you around City Solutions from time to time. Charles Xavier. A pleasure, though I wish it were under different circumstances certainly.
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She knows you Charles, not personally- having never actually met you- but she know of you, and of your work. She knows several of your 'students' though, it's a fair bet that you don't know them yourself yet.
Natasha smiles faintly, six degrees and all that, the question here is whether The City does this on purpose, or if it's all some sort of huge cosmic coincidence.]
Once again we agree, it's a pleasure to [finally] meet you, Mister Xavier. [A pause.] I'm familiar with your work where I'm from, but I'm sure you'll understand if I don't go into further detail. At least, for the time being.
[The last time she gave up information about what she knew, it didn't go well.]
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How much has changed and yet remained the same.
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You mortals have advanced in technology, but remain violent and uncultured.
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[ Instead he assumes the wide-eyed expression of his alter-ego. ]
...I guess there's one or two every weekend. Invasive videos, that is.
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I would have preferred it not have shown such intimate details of my early life, however as with most thing here, my preference doesn't matter.
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I have a pet theory that it's how the City gets its fuel. On the discomfort and anger of the people its trapped. [ In many ways, the coercion and cruelty are no different from those of his former employers. ]
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