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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
" There are times when a well-placed pawn is more powerful than a king."
- Unknown
｡↷ ✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ
Pollards Park House, Chalfont Street Giles
September 25th, 1940
" Your move." Agent Mortem said, eyes watching her own from across the chessboard fixated on the golden oakwood table that lay freshly wiped down from blood that had poured from the wound Natia had just under her eye.
Too many fights, Agent Mortem had told her.
Too many reckless fights for reckless reasons. He had told her she wasn't thinking or that she wasn't using her mind - she heard it daily, what was the point in repeating it. She was sure Klimeck and Ryzshard were worried beyond compare, leaving in early August had been stressful enough for her two siblings, with an unknown return to follow. But the jump into Poland was approaching quicker than Natia would've liked - February.
And if she didn't pass here, she'd never pass a thing.
Natia studied the chess board, just like she had the day before, looking at each piece, every possible combination emerging inside her head.
" For such an intelligent young woman, you sure are quite slow in making your decisions."
" I'm an intelligent young woman, not a prodigy." she said, as she took a knight and made her move across the board.
It seemed Agent Mortem failed to under the basic concept that it was not quite the matter of your speed, rather the mere process of what your decision was to be. Because in war, not all death's came just as fast as the quick ones. It was all his game - distraction was key.
In war, you were nearly always distracted. But he never realized that sometimes the words were no longer a game, but simple reality - they hurt. But she had to play harder than that.
Words without action was nothing in this world it seemed - especially in war.
Agent Mortem chuckled quietly as he sat back, lighting up a cigarette and placing it upon his lip. The smoke blew out from his lips, eyes watching the chess board.
" Tell me, why did you fight that boy?" Agent Mortem asked her as Natia gingerly touched the fresh wound underneath the eyelid.
" It wasn't a boy, it was a man. And it was a man who seemed to have a deep-seeded opinion-"
" It was a boy, if he was immature enough to fight someone like you - he was a boy."
" He fought like he knew what he was doing, not scrap fighting. Your move." She didn't want to talk about the fight anymore. It was her own fault, she now had a wound under her eye to remind her of it. A fight for no purpose - like this entire war. Agent Mortem chuckled. He hadn't distracted her from the ulterior motive quite yet.
