Italy Romana | Chiara Vargas
30 May 2011 @ 11:51 am
A. Action.

[Her footsteps quick, Romana hurries home, hair in a tangled mess, some blood on her blouse. Any cut or bruise seems to be fading, her nationhood returned. She can feel it inside her, the strength of all her people, helping her to keep going. The first death hadn't been easy, physically, nor had it been emotionally. Guilt still naws at her, even as Romana frowns and shakes her head to clear it. What's done is done, and when it comes down to it... one person, one person for so many, for her sister. It was a needed sacrifice, and really... everyone came back in this town.

She can't regret it, not fully. And she knows, if she had to, she'd do it again. Which is why she barely flinches when a new letter is found on her doorstep, a new name and photo slipping out. Her eyes close briefly, and she can feel the photos of her people and her sister burning in her other hand. Well then. That was that, this... game wasn't over. Swallowing, she heads inside, and only then does she let the mask crack a little, only for a few minutes. And then it's business as usual.]


B. Phone.

[The emotion in Romana's voice is clear, moving from concern into threatening as the call goes on]

If anyone sees Veneziano, Feliciano, the little boy with a curl that sticks out to the side and will rave about pasta... make sure he stays inside. I swear... I swear, if anyone lays a finger on him, if anyone hurts him...

I'll make it my personal mission to destroy you, got it?

C. Action; locked to Steven's Road, specifically 2239

[Hair pulled back into a tight bun, and her curl flattened to lessen the chance of being recognised, Romana has managed to hunt her next target's home down. And after changing into an outfit more suitable for fighting and restocking her weapons she now waits, watching the house for a sign of movement. She doesn't feel too anxious to rush in, knowing from years of experiences that it's best to hold the higher ground and wait.

In the meantime, she'll just be hanging out in a tree, tucked up and away and checking her guns.]
 
 
Italy Romana | Chiara Vargas
26 December 2010 @ 05:44 am
[You can find Romana in  places. Ultimately though, they all lead to the same purpose: Finding a way out, now. Someone got their gift.]

A: [Kneeling in front doorway of 750 Partridge drive, staring in shock at a small hand mirror, a few tears creeping down her cheeks as the hand holding the mirror shakes. If you look in the mirror, what do you see? The same thing as Romana does, death and destruction, Italy following Germany into another way, the Allies of World War 2 being the enemy of Germany again, Spain taking a stand this time, following France only to get knocked down by Hungary, a grim look on the man's face. And from the look of the world, this is not 1940's]

B: [On the way through town, military uniform on, determination and tear streaks on her face as she ignores pretty much everyone. The mirror's still in her hand, a jagged crack running across the glass though the pieces stay in place.]

C: [At the hardware store, going through the range of guns Mayfield has to offer. The nice drone man who refused to sell her one of them on account of her gender is still there behind the counter. Though he is on the floor, a wood chopping axe buried in the back of his head.]

D: [On her way through town again, though this time she's loaded up on weapons and is heading straight towards the Mayor's office with a grim look on her face. She's getting out of here, she's going back home and she's saving her sister. Well, if she doesn't get droned.]

[ooc: Just so everyone knows, if tags stop suddenly I've collapsed from need to sleep. Otherwise should be here all day.]

 
 
Italy Romana | Chiara Vargas
03 November 2010 @ 07:10 pm
[For someone whose just woken up in a bed that is not her own (her own being far more comfortable), dressed in clothes that also don't belong to hers (and never would. Even her sleepwear is designer label okay?), and in a place that is most certainly not her beloved Italy, Lovina is handling it all quite well.

...Well, that of course depends on your definition of well. Her own means that to her it's perfectly reasonable to tiptoe down the stairs of this strange house, table lamp in hand, Lovina primed to attack the heads of her kidnappers.

And then, just as she passes it, the phone rings. After spending a few seconds staring at in suspicion, Lovina picks up, holding it warily to her ear as if it'll explode at any second, giving her something else to be irritated about as well as destroying her carefully styled hair.]


...Hello? Who is thi-

[Anything else she's about the say is cut off by a loud shriek, at a volume that will definitely make you ears ache. This shriek is the followed by loud cries of 'demon!' as well as the sounds of that table lamp smashing and Sam's angry chitters. Enjoy, citizen's of Mayfield because it's being sent straight to your phones.]