Human name: Vash Zwingli
Country's name: Swiss Confederation (Switzerland)
Personality section:
Verpiss di! At a first glance, the murderous glare backed up by at least one weapon are enough for most people to summarize the loner-country's personality as a variety of colourful descriptions that usually fall into the categories of "sociopath," "violent." and often liken him to a pittbull as something aggressive and prone to attacking with little to no provocation. There's quite a lot more to Vash than how he's seen, but very few will come close enough to learn differently. While Vash can be all of those things, he's much more as well; every negative connotation that can be associated with Vash has a reason that, to this day, he will defend is a valid point behind the behaviour.
Centuries spent as Europe's poorhouse and being constantly at war with surrounding nations who wished only to invade and take his land as their own has taught Vash to look out for himself very well. He is a strong and decisive fighter and will stubbornly defend what is his or what he believes as right, his pride sometimes getting in the way of backing down or admitting he is wrong (especially if pay is concerned). Vash is incredibly thrifty from being poor and supporting himself for so long; very little is wasted. Rather than buy nicer things, Vash will opt for the cheaper choice in order to spread his money out. In hard times, even food going stale or about to rot can be put to use and salvaged somehow. He's surprisingly good at repairs and mending things, if only to save the money of replacing them or paying someone else to fix them for him.
Vash is easily recognized for his short temper and defensive nature, and despite living as a neutral country, he is very serious and tends to read between the lines, often perceiving things as threats of one kind or another if people aren't choosy about their wording. He tries to remain polite with those around them, and will politely tolerate their existence if he has any kind of business with them. But relationships more personal than that are brushed off and never directly declared. Indecisiveness annoys him greatly; if there is something that needs doing, and a person is complaining about it, then he feels that they should do whatever they can to change their situation and solve their problem rather than stand there and whine. And he will state so, very loudly, and often at gun point. 'The Rule Of One' is something that carries over from his youth and centuries of trying to keep from being decimated by everyone else, and while he is willing to step in and help those around them if they are in need, Vash does not expect anyone to do the same for him, instead relying on himself to get out of bad situations because as life has taught him, "No one will be there for you more than you." He is blunt, easily agitated, stingey, and secretly compassionate, sentimental, and fiercely loyal, even in the face of putting himself at great risk.
Roleplay sample:
The house was empty, the smell of dust, must, and disuse hanging in the air of every room and htting Vash like a wall as he pushed open the door. That idiot hadn't been in this house in centuries; nobody had. Even after Roderich and
that woman had divorced, Austria had little need to come back to this old house, so small and crumbling. There was a new home to be filled with new memories. Vash looked around as he stepped, silent as a sniper, leaving boot tracks through the years of dust that had plated the wooden floor like snow. He wasn't sure why he was there, really; Roderich had taken everything that meant something with him when he moved, and anything of Vash's surely was broken or burnt by now. Not that he cared what that dipshit did with anything he'd ever given him.
The metal knob was little more than rust, Vash relying more on pushng the door with his shoulder than trying to push the knob down to let himself into the next room.
Good thing I'm wearing gloves, he thought, making a face as he looked at the knob in disgust, almost daring it to break in his hands.
Last thing I need is to give myself tetanus coming here. Serve me right though, I guess. Part of it was a dream he'd had and only remembered snatches of when he was awake, prompting Vash to walk to a place where they used to run in hopes of seeing the ghosts of happier times. Part of it had been a morbid curiosity to see what had become of this place. Sure it was trespassing, but what did that matter in a place that was abandoned? Vash gave a soft grunt, waving the dust away from his face as it kicked up from the heavy door. The room was dark, but in the dim light of the afternoon that trickled in through the boarded-up windows, Vash could see clearly all the furniture and statues remaining, covered by sheets and dustcloths. Maybe he'd meant to come back for them at some point and just gotten too busy. Maybe he'd planned to sell them eventually. Maybe he just wanted to let the memories rot.
But there it was, covered my yards of heavy canvas; Vash would know that shape anywhere. Slowly his fingers gripped the fabric and pulled, revealing the ancient Pian e Forte. A present he'd given Roderich centuries ago. When it was new, it was more than magnificent, and the peace-offering had made that idiot nearly cry. The wood was highly polished and had the most delicate carvings and inlays, the ivory keys gleaming and smooth, the harp inside using gold, silver, and brass wires to connect to the hammers of the keys. Vash hadn't stayed longer than to hear Roderich play one song at his party, but he knew how much it had meant to him. Now, it sat here, discarded over the centuries, Roderich now having many pianos to choose from. The wood was rotting in places, held together by screws and pegs added over time, keys yellowed and cracked. Vash didn't dare sit on the stool and risk breaking it, but his fingers moved down to the ancient ivory of the present he'd given Roderich almost 500 years ago.
The keys pressed down gently, hammers rising and falling against harp strings that hadn't been touched in ages. There were so many afternoons he'd sat at Roderich's side to listen to him play, or even let himself be taught. He was never as good as Roderich would be, but he learned what he could because his friend loved it, and if it was something his friend loved, then maybe learning to love it as well would be the right thing to do. It would remind him of the people attached to those things he loved so much. Vash's eye twitched in irritation.
Moron. It was horribly out of tune, and most of the strings were broken from the sounds of it as he tried to play the simple tune he'd learned so long ago. Broken, out of tune, and falling apart. Heh. The irony wasn't lost. Vash sighed, throwing the drop cloth back over the relic before walking back out of the room. Out, and away from the memories that Roderich had left behind.
Anything else?: Black, blaaaack, blaaaaaaaaack is the colour of my true love's hai- Oh, fave colour. Still black, thanks.
MSN account: sanniefoxx(at)hotmail(dot)com
Subject: Vash Zwingli 
Sun Jul 15, 2012 8:06 pm
