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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" Oh but that's the irony, broken people are not fragile."
- Clinton Sammy Jr
｡↷ ✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ
Prague, Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia
German-Occupied
April 23rd, 1944
0500
It was 5 am and she still hadn't fallen asleep after the vast majority of the group had retreated downstairs to their bunks, finally falling into their beds, the door securely locked upstairs, light turned out and no exposed maps lying around the premise.
Natia lay staring up towards the stone ceiling, listening to some of the snores radiate around the room, soft breaths leaving the lips of some, mumbling and shifting occurring from others.
But Natia lay stark still, wide awake.
The sun would be up in an hour and a half and she would still be lying here, eyes bloodshot, staring at the ceiling.
There had been too much that had happened in the span of 24 hours.
To Austria and back - for the plans, for a simple stab in the Third Reich, for the fulfillment of plans to hopefully slowly crumble the Nazis. But it's what kept her mind racing and her heart pounding wildly.
The adrenaline never left her veins, it was a constant cycle of finally calming down and then concurring another plan, executing it and having the same sleeping issues. And sure, she would fall asleep in random corners throughout the day, but at night, there was no rest for the restless. Only the torture of trying to close your eyes as the others went to bed instantly and having absolutely no luck in the end.
And it was that battle, a stupid mental battle of your mind having too many tumultuous thoughts that overpowered the other until each got louder and louder inside your head until the point where she just wanted to scream and scream and scream until it finally were quiet again and only hope that the pain would soon subside as well.
Natia grunted and slowly sat up, pulling the crinkled covers that were paper thin from her body and flipped her legs over the side of the bed, feeling a slight cold breeze against her calves. She shivered - but not a lot.
There were worse bitter chills than that of an early morning draft.
Natia slowly pushed herself to her feet, reaching forward to grab her coat which hung from the bed post and carefully pulled it over her shoulders, shrugging it up until the collar cuddled her neck a bit. Natia slowly turned her gaze and retreated out of the room from the snoring Resistance members, her boots slowly creaking their way up the slowly turning staircase towards the darkened and still slightly warm meeting room.
