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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" And more than that, she just looked...tired. Like she'd battled the world and the world had won."
- Sara Shepard
｡↷ ✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ
Outside of Pollards Park House, Chalfont Street Giles
August 13th, 1940
The chess board inside no longer withheld the occupancy of the two Agents - since ignored and left behind as night nearly fell, left to the dust and soon to have returned.
The queen stood above the king, trapped in a corner with no escape.
Natia had played the game in her head for a week leading up to it and had beat Agent Mortem in 10 moves - she wanted to beat him in 5.
He was limping now more than ever before though; she had assumed, by the way he sat down in his chair at night, a quiet groan leaving his lips as his fingers went to the bridge of his nose. The cane pushed much harder than before into the wooden surface of the ground and now outside it nearly sunk into the grass around them.
Hidden away just like they were back home was the best excuse the SOE could come up with for the Polish SOE Agents deemed fit for service.
Of course, none of them were here, no, they had followed along like the good soldiers they were, as Natia brazen as a bull, accepted ignorance as a drug, wore the long cloak of reluctance and tried to do minimal of what she could.
Agent Mortem saw differently.
Her pistol was held up in front of her face, pointed straight forward, her body rigid and pistol firm in her grasp. Her eyes were narrowed - she had seen Mortem do that quite often - she figured she would too. He always managed to seem so focused. Agent Mortem stood by her side, smoking through his nasty British cigar which Natia had tried on occasion but found rather disgusting if she was being honest. But she had grown used to them in a way - not an acceptance no - more of a numbness to it.
" Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to shoot it?" Agent Mortem asked her quietly, his voice barely making way to her ear over the slight gust of evening wind that decided to blow through.
" Yes. But is that my prerogative?" she questioned, " To just shoot when I wish? Or to think logically through every scenario that could get me killed by firing that weapon without second thought?" Agent Mortem chuckled quietly to himself, as if it was a joke. It wasn't, but Mortem found it quiet funny.
" Good." he said, " You've been practicing." She was supposed to be the child and glance towards him, but she was farther along than that - stay focused - he was trying to distract her. Natia clenched her jaw, as her grip on the weapon tightened further.
