Amat application

[laukr]

PLAYER
» Journal: piipa314
» Birthdate/Age: Nov 1980; I am 31
» Characters Played: none

CHARACTER
» Name: Kongeriket Norge / Norway
» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
» Reference: History of Norway,
Union between Norway and Sweden (explaining the canon point),
Hetalia archives: Norway.
Naturally if you need more, I will provide.
» Canon Point: 1821
» Gender: Male/Male
» Age: Norway doesn’t have an age determined for him in canon, but considering the other Nordics seem twenty-ish, I would go with that as far as appearance goes. His real age is well over 1500 years.
» Orientation: Perfectly unknown.
» Personality: It would be easy to describe him as a socially inept recluse. But that would only scratch the surface. At first glance you might be very tempted to revert to such simplicity, however, witnessing his muttered point blank commentary that neither aims to be nor is nice and quite often devised to jab at an obvious weak point (or less so in case of familiar and familial connections). More accurate deduction would be found from his lack of self-conscious uncertainty, confidence and simple dislike of complicated social interaction. Factual, straightforward and drawn to simplicity – it is the Scandinavian stereotype and yet more so, a personality.

Often cold and stoic by the first impression, enigmatic as the deep waters of his fjords, perhaps mysterious to a point of annoyance, he does absolutely nothing to disabuse you of this presumption. It serves him well enough to showcase his introverted nature from get-go. However, it would be incorrect to call him “cold”. For someone so uncaring, he appears quite often in the company of the other Nordics. And towards them, especially towards Iceland, he acts less aloof than towards the rest of the world. It just isn’t in his personality to make a point of something he considers to be obvious. Chances are that he would come clean the moment someone would ask him, feeling little embarrassment over something that is as big a part of him as his bloody history. Norway isn’t ashamed of either.

Curt and occasionally violent, he might seem like a simple brute. And there seems to be little speaking against the picture of a grunting barbarian. But when you see him teasing Iceland, to whom Norway seems to be devoted to even beyond the usual antics of the Nordics, or when you see him bicker with Denmark, you’ll see a completely different person. Someone with wits, a sharp sense of humor and effortless interaction and even his own peculiar kind of charm. Suddenly he doesn’t seem like a social recluse anymore.

Norway is a private person. He likes his personal space, and you just don’t walk into that circle that he accepts closer to him. It takes centuries to get on his good side. Both demanding and hard headed, he is proud and honest, not bothering to give any lip service where it doesn’t belong. You’ll rarely hear him say “thank you” or “sorry” if ever. He believes firmly in principles such as “every man for himself” and hardly expects anyone to treat him any differently - do and you might find yourself with one very awkward Norwegian.

Currently he’s been forced into an union with Sweden but with his own terms. By the time of 1821 the union has been secured and politically stabilized. However, Norway is hardly content under the rule of Karl XIV Johan of Sweden, which has led to numerous political skirmishes between the two united nations. Norway is slowly edging towards reforming of his government and while joined with Sweden, enjoying an era of national pride and budding will for independence. (A process that will normally take centuries for a nation.)

» Appearance: The most distinct feature of Norway is his blatantly simplistic expressionlessness. Even when he’s punching Denmark or flipping out and trying to beat cat!France, he seems to be as coolly collected as he would be reading a newspaper. He is built slight and in pale colors, except for the deep blue of his eyes. He isn’t as tall as Denmark or Sweden, but towers slightly over Finland. He mostly dresses in blue, and has a Nordic cross pin in his hair on the right side. His fjords float beside his head as a swirl and a dot. Here is a picture of him.

» Suitability: N/A

SAMPLES
» "amatomnes" First-Person Network Entry:
[Video;]

[The picture rattles, swaying from side to side before settling on a nice view of the cloudless sky and something that seems like the top of a person’s head. Light hair, pale skin. Apparently it is either the first or one of the very first times they’re using a device like this. (In fact, he’s never seen anything like it before.)

The person clears their throat and the sound is somewhat muffled by being rather far away from the device itself.]

I’ve been told that I can reach other collared people through this… device.

Can someone tell me more ‘bout this pagan goddess, Atia? ‘m not familiar.

[He falls silent for a while, muttering something that doesn’t carry through.]

An’ if yer familiar with some alternative way of loosening one’s collar, the information would be appreciated.

[The silence here might get awkward eventually. A flock of birds sails past the sky view. In the distance chatter of people can be heard.]

Right. [He ventures after a while.] In case this was a mistake by… some idiot who has no concept of their powers, sending me back to m’house would be the best course of action.

[Before the video cuts off it shakes and shivers, turning from side to side in a wild vertigo. You might glimpse a pair of deep blue eyes before he finally manages to find the right button to push.]

» "amatomneslogs" Third-Person Prose Entry:

It’s not so unusual for him to wake up like this, sweaty, tired and with a fading dream of urgent touches upon his skin. It is rather frequent occurrence, building up his growing frustration. Usually these early morning moments include mist upon his cheeks and a rising sense of apathy in the wake of realizing just how trapped he is. He hates it, hates his heart that keeps dreaming.

This time is no different. However, when he blinks his eyes open fast and cruelly to dissipate whatever is left of the dream and expects to see nothing but hollow shapes in the darkness of the room he shares with Sweden, there is instead light and touch of silk upon his heated skin.

Dizzy from struggling up fast, he realizes first that he is naked, wearing nothing but sweat and seed where his lap is slick with it, not his nightgown and no heavy blankets are in sight. This is definitely not Sweden’s house; in fact, nothing is familiar about it. Sure, he has seen drawings of architecture like this, but it’s too early and he’s too confused to put a name to it.

Abduction then? But why? Who would want to challenge Sweden like that? And Sweden aside, who would want to contest Norway’s own power like this?

Wiping himself clean with the silken sheets, he rises up and takes a moment to circle around the room, pausing as he notices his clothes piled onto a chair just as neatly as he laid them down the night before. They’re definitely his own clothes, including even the tattered overcoat that he’s been meaning to replace for years now. With that jolt of sudden familiarity he realizes that something else is missing, something so fundamentally his that the lack of it brings him down to his knees.

He has never been anything but the nation of Norway; well over a thousand years it’s been sitting upon his shoulders like an old cloak that he is incapable of taking off. It’s impossible to describe what has changed, he is still the sum of the same things as before, and yet something is very wrong with this picture. He heaves a deep sigh, sucking in air while trying to calm the storm within his stomach, swallowing hard. This is where his hands shoot up to grab whatever is circled around his neck, moving in time with his adam’s apple.

A collar? Isn’t that just a bit too poignant? Inching fingers under it, he keeps sliding the collar around and around, trying to find the connection point. He has to get it off. He will cut it off if nothing else will work. This is too much. It is anger that replies to his confusion with easy familiarity, anger and indignant pride. When he finds out who did this, they will be sorry.