Piano keys were her childhood, but the grasp of a pistol was her reality. Polish SOE Agent, Natia Filipska, has lurked among the rubble and the shadows of her occupied-Warsaw for years, ever since the war started and ripped her from the life that ha...
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"'Why did you do all this for me?' he asked. 'I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.' 'You have been my friend,' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a tremendous thing.'"
- E. B White, Charlotte's Web
｡↷ ✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ
Eindhoven, Holland
September 17th, 1944
1445
48 days since the Uprising
Natia walked under the sun as if God himself had just knocked on her door and told her to pray - in the middle of war.
Natia Filipska - praying? Hilarious.
Each step was like an angry little puff leaving her body, she grumbled to herself, as she felt the radio shift along her back, her submachine slapping her shoulder, as the slightly uncomfortable uniform itched her body and the boots continued to feel like bricks laced up onto her feet. A hello would've been nicer than a cold gaze, but what else is new. Not everyone is welcoming.
Natia squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, letting out another breath. Where she was going, she didn't have a clue. She just....her mind was too much for her right now and her reactions were annoying to herself. And walking into a solid wall of human body was not something she took a liking to either.
Stumbling back, pushing a hand on her helmet rim up out of her eyes, her angry gaze narrowed at the person in front of her.
" Watch it." she snapped, as her eyes met the brown ones of the person in front of her. But the gaze watching her was equally as angry, as the crowd still celebrated behind him.
" Watch it yourself." he snapped back, his gaze darkened, as he sneered at her, finally registering the female voice which had come out of her mouth.
" Who the fuck are you?" he said, stepping back briefly, hand moving to his rifle, slung across his shoulder as Natia's eyes widened.
" Hey, buddy, slow down alright!" she snapped, leaping forward to push the strap of his rifle firmly back into his shoulder as he looked at her quickly with wide eyes in the slanted street. Her face was red hot staring up at his, strands of her loose hair now falling down past her cheeks, the uneven cuts, clinging to her sweaty skin, as the man's sunken in cheeks, clenched at the jaw, and his gaze narrowed.
" Clearly word has not gotten around yet, and with a load of Americans, I thought it would've by now." she said, letting a labored breath past her lips, " But since we're in this position, may I introduce myself? Agent Fidel, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Boy was the sarcasm thick in her waters.
The man seemed to sense it and just turn more angry by the second.
