[NS]Pushistymistan
15-11-2006, 02:39
President Izabella Korotkaia's Office
Executive Office Building
Perovsky Proezd 1, Olen
November 15, 08,13
+++A little sigh escaped the muzzle of the slender husky woman sitting behind the opulently-oversized mahogany desk, which sat towards the rear of an open and warmly-welcoming apartment, as the diminutive figure ran her hand through her loose, coffee-coloured follicles, picking up her simply-designed mug, which held captive in it a rather strong breed of java to chase away the early morning ; the aforementioned hand continued down from the female's crown to rest upon her nape after a sip of the dark liquid, giving a little massage to that area. The small porcelain vessel was soon thereafter returned to its resting place atop a coaster, whose small surrounding area was the only surface where one might actually see the desk beneath the bunches of paper and other objects strewn about it—carefully organised, of course, but one would never know.
+++She dallied that way, one hand upon the handle of her mug and another upon her neck for a moment or two, canting her head to the rear to stare up at the ceiling, whose edges were illuminated with hidden lights of a soft cream colour, intended to be soothing and calming ; it was indeed so, yet this only added to the poor girl's sense of listlessness ; she itched desperately to get up out of her rarefied throne and find something (anything would do) to occupy her time. Yet there was no such hope, for, unfortunately, Izabella ran a country, and had accepted early on in her campaign to replace the long-standing Soviet leader who, in a startling move, had resigned, asking for a newer crowd to take the reins, and as the head of state of even a minor country such as Pushistymistan, she would have numerous responsibilities and duties if she was chosen for the position, which her quality of character simply forbade her from shirking ; she was not, however, always cheerful about such things, and so with an exhalation somewhere between a groan and another sigh, delved back into the business of politics—such as it was for a largely ceremonial figurehead.
+++It was during this desultory scanning of emails that she at last came across something that, with an energetic jolt, threw her into a more conscious state of mind, and so attracted to the message's contents, flitted over its body ; then again, slower, and once more, just to be sure she'd read the "from" field accurately. Yet there was no mistake in her comprehension of the communiqué's subject matter, which quite confused the woman ; its rather truncated information ran along the lines of the absurd, which was thus: that someone—the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was still trying to contact its allies in the General Assembly as to the perpetrator's identity—had added the country of Pushistymistan and all and sundry of its related content to the World Heritage List, the reason of which was, as well, at the moment in the process of being sniffed out.
+++Izabella was befuddled, certainly ; but more than anything else, she was ruffled largely because she knew her representative had not agreed to this, nor likely had even had the chance to have dialouge about it, given that the Foreign Affairs people were so thrown by this situation that had developed. And so, as her smouldering anger grew warmer and warmer, she snatched up the phone laid upon her desk, and began contacting the appropriate people.
[ Kivisto, if your nation/UN representative doesn't take responsibility right off, would you mind if I controlled some ambiguous foreign allies? ]
Executive Office Building
Perovsky Proezd 1, Olen
November 15, 08,13
+++A little sigh escaped the muzzle of the slender husky woman sitting behind the opulently-oversized mahogany desk, which sat towards the rear of an open and warmly-welcoming apartment, as the diminutive figure ran her hand through her loose, coffee-coloured follicles, picking up her simply-designed mug, which held captive in it a rather strong breed of java to chase away the early morning ; the aforementioned hand continued down from the female's crown to rest upon her nape after a sip of the dark liquid, giving a little massage to that area. The small porcelain vessel was soon thereafter returned to its resting place atop a coaster, whose small surrounding area was the only surface where one might actually see the desk beneath the bunches of paper and other objects strewn about it—carefully organised, of course, but one would never know.
+++She dallied that way, one hand upon the handle of her mug and another upon her neck for a moment or two, canting her head to the rear to stare up at the ceiling, whose edges were illuminated with hidden lights of a soft cream colour, intended to be soothing and calming ; it was indeed so, yet this only added to the poor girl's sense of listlessness ; she itched desperately to get up out of her rarefied throne and find something (anything would do) to occupy her time. Yet there was no such hope, for, unfortunately, Izabella ran a country, and had accepted early on in her campaign to replace the long-standing Soviet leader who, in a startling move, had resigned, asking for a newer crowd to take the reins, and as the head of state of even a minor country such as Pushistymistan, she would have numerous responsibilities and duties if she was chosen for the position, which her quality of character simply forbade her from shirking ; she was not, however, always cheerful about such things, and so with an exhalation somewhere between a groan and another sigh, delved back into the business of politics—such as it was for a largely ceremonial figurehead.
+++It was during this desultory scanning of emails that she at last came across something that, with an energetic jolt, threw her into a more conscious state of mind, and so attracted to the message's contents, flitted over its body ; then again, slower, and once more, just to be sure she'd read the "from" field accurately. Yet there was no mistake in her comprehension of the communiqué's subject matter, which quite confused the woman ; its rather truncated information ran along the lines of the absurd, which was thus: that someone—the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was still trying to contact its allies in the General Assembly as to the perpetrator's identity—had added the country of Pushistymistan and all and sundry of its related content to the World Heritage List, the reason of which was, as well, at the moment in the process of being sniffed out.
+++Izabella was befuddled, certainly ; but more than anything else, she was ruffled largely because she knew her representative had not agreed to this, nor likely had even had the chance to have dialouge about it, given that the Foreign Affairs people were so thrown by this situation that had developed. And so, as her smouldering anger grew warmer and warmer, she snatched up the phone laid upon her desk, and began contacting the appropriate people.
[ Kivisto, if your nation/UN representative doesn't take responsibility right off, would you mind if I controlled some ambiguous foreign allies? ]