[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 1px solid white; width: 440px; height: 50px;][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: none;font-family: arial;text-align: justify;color: white;width: 400px; height: 20px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: 4px; margin-left: -5px; font-size: 30px; padding: 1px;]RUNA KAMBAN.[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: none;font-family: arial;text-align: justify;color: white;width: 400px; height: 20px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-top: 4px; margin-left: -5px; font-size: 20px; padding: 1px;][i][b]the faroe islands.[/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 1px solid white; width: 440px; height: 250px; margin-top: 2px;]
| [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: 1px solid white; height: 140px; width: 120px; background:url(http://i68.tinypic.com/2ytu0s7.jpg) center; background-size: 130%; margin-top: 3px; margin-left: -2px;][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: 1px solid white;font-family: arial;text-align: justify;color: white;width: 140px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: 4px; margin-left: -2px; font-size: 15px; padding: 5px;][i]IF THIS IS TO END IN FIRE, THEN WE SHOULD ALL BURN TOGETHER.[/fancypost] | [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: 1px solid white; width: 270px; height: 223px; overflow: auto; font-size: 8.5pt; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; color: white; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 3.5px; margin-left: 1px; padding: 5px;]Imagine a cemetery hiding beneath a blanket of snow. Hiding not from the fleshless and rotted corpses below ground, but the weary souls who tread its black-ribbon pathways and clambered like ghosts between the tombstones above it. Today, there was only one living soul of which to speak. She was bundled up in a crimson sweater dress, and a pine-tree green parka on top of it. A splash of color against the achromatic terrain, like a magazine cutting on notebook paper. Her eyes, as deep and incomprehensible as the sea, scanned the gently sloping hill and the stone markings of its residents. At some point in her life, these tombstones had been people. They had laughed so hard that their stomach hurt, cried to points of numbness, and lived until their fragile lives gave way beneath its own weight. Perhaps they had even done some of these things in coordination with the girl herself. Not a grave in that cemetery was under a hundred years old. The girl didn’t appear a day older than sixteen. Allow me to explain. Runa Kamban had never much been one for cemeteries. Far too dismal for her taste, even when she was merely strolling through. She was a devout believer in that every place had an energy, and that that energy was the residue of every emotion that had ever been felt there. Cemeteries such as that one were ordinarily dense with sorrow and regret. The disbelief of a child watching his mother lowered into the earth; of a husband kneeling at the grave of his wife. No, a graveyard certainly wouldn’t have been her first choice in terms of ideal meeting places. She would have much preferred a quaint park, or perhaps a serene lakeside. Any place but a cemetery. Nevertheless, she showed up like she said she would, while the country with whom she was supposed to be meeting… was late. Ah, yes. There is your explanation, as simple as that. Runa was of the rare breed of human who was bonded in every mental and physical manner to a landmass. Or, in her case, an archipelago of landmasses. Runa was the embodiment of the Faroe Islands. A disquieted sigh. She shook her head. Her cropped, pale blonde hair wasn’t doing much to keep the bitter cold from her ears. It was doing even less to protect her nose and chapped lips. After so long, she was used to the frostiness. She had all but been raised in the snow, but that didn’t mean her body didn’t detest it from time to time, try to fight against it. Stopping in front of a tombstone isolated from the rest, she seemed to huddle deeper into the cream colored, fur lining of her parka. Where [I]were |
| they? [HR][HR] [b]OOC: |
| Runa Kamban is the embodiment of the Faroe Islands. A modest and sensitive girl who is the mom friend of just about every group. She cares a lot about people, and tends to form close relationships with ease. Your character has been hitting on her at every world meeting for years now. They have dropped hint after blatant hint, but Runa is terrible at detecting when somebody is interested in her. She sees your character's advances as nothing more than an overbearing attempt at friendship. At the last world meeting, your character finally gave in and asked if they would like to accompany her on a stroll around the city of Copenhagen, Denmark, where the meeting took place. They meet her at a cemetery, and the two of them end up going on an interesting adventure or cute date together, anywhere of your character's choice. The majority of this thread will be easygoing and fluffy, with Runa realizing rather quickly that she harbors feelings for your character. Things might get intense later on, depending on where and how things go. If you want to join, you can play literally any Hetalia character, including one of the Nyo! variations. You can also play as an OC, although I would prefer that it be of a real country. (It would be really cute if you made a Greenland OC!!) Runa is pansexual, thus the sex and gender of your character makes no difference. Also, as a side note, my good friend made the picture above for me, so credit for that goes to her! |
[/fancypost][align=center][size=7pt]lightsy love you