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Post by Iran on Mar 24, 2013 13:32:37 GMT -5
July 12th 1951- Tehran
Shireen had been trying to be a good hostess, she really had... and in some respects she'd succeeded. Several of her larger cities were in attendance at the meeting- Tehran of course, Shiraz, Esfahan and Bandar Abbas. And they'd mostly managed to do her proud, although Jehan had been doodling in his notebook since the second hour of the meeting.
She'd chosen this particular room for its spacious, airy feel, despite the summer heat, but the best architecture in the world couldn't quite cope with summer in Tehran. Everyone was lethargic before lunch and after an extremely well-catered meal with plenty of food, the lethargy had gotten worse. If only Ivan would stop talking! At her prime minister's suggestion, and largely to annoy Alfred and Arthur just a little more, Shireen had invited Ivan and some of his satellite states to come to Tehran and speak to her and her cities about the benefits of communism and the best way to hypothetically go about implementing it locally.
To be sure, Shireen had her own Tudeh party followers who adhered to communistic ideology and they had been thrilled, as had most people, when Mossadeq nationalised the oil company and broke the agreement with Britain. But the Tudeh party said that was only the first step in the correct direction, and there had been striking, labour-shortages and protests despite the reforms that were taking place. Hence this meeting- a fact finding expedition on Shireen's part and a chance for Ivan to air his thoughts on the workings of life, the universe and everything according to communism. Which made the Tudeh party happy, but was...slow going if you had to actually sit through the speeches....
Shireen made up her mind, and the next time Ivan hit a promising sounding pause in this interminable speech about the inevitability of history- she started applauding. Somewhat startled, her cities followed her lead a little more slowly.
"Excellent, Comrade Braginsky!" she smiled. "Well-said indeed! We thank you for your careful consideration of these matters! And now, we will adjourn for some cultural exchange! Reza," she caught Tehran's attention, "has graciously volunteered to give a tour of the sites of historic interest as well as some of the newer construction projects! Comrade Braginsky, we have every hope you will find this tour to be a fascinating insight into the class struggle as we see it in Tehran!"
As her cities and Ivan and his satellite countries began to make tour arrangements, Shireen made a point of getting up from where she had been sitting to talk to Majaristan- Elizabeta, the only female member of Ivan's delegation.
"Elizabeta, dear," Shireen smiled. "We're getting much more modern here these days, but I thought it might be best if we let the men go off and tour by themselves while we have some chai. And later on we can tour too, when it's cooler out," Shireen added. "If that's agreeable to you, of course?" Shireen didn't want to be pushy, but she still felt that this would be the most prudent course of action for several reasons. Still, the will of the guest was all, in her hospitality. If Elizabeta did want to go on the tour, in the heat, after all, Shireen could make that happen too.
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Post by Hungary on Mar 25, 2013 15:40:29 GMT -5
Damn it, why was she here in the first place? Though in reality, the Magyar held no real negative feelings towards Shireen, Elizabeta was still bitter about the whole meeting. And the bloody lie that was life under Communism. Sheer brutality and hell, as hard as the western nations tried to fight against Ivan and the regime of his sadistic, power thirsty leaders. They would never understand the pain. Eyes witnessing, innocent souls who only wanted freedom and higher living standards for themselves and families. It killed her.
Then again, what could she have done about it? With Stalinist wannabe Mátyás Rákosi in power, things had gone from bad to worse since the Second World War. Like so many other country personifications during this hour, she had merely become a pawn in one man's crave for influence. And due to the opinions of the rest of her people, the fear and hatred of the Iron Curtain was installed in her. She couldn't voice her opinions due to her fear of her bosses and to keep her own Hungarian safe, if only they could appreciate what she was doing. Some of the more radical Hungarians had saw her as weak now. No longer the tough female warrior that she was years ago. The same Hungary that rebelled against the Mongols and Turks. "Hmm, they weren't even alive then. How would they know what I was really like then?" She asked herself mentally. But she couldn't help but deny that she was indeed different than before. F*ck Ivan and the Soviet bastards, now she couldn't even help her own people in their time of need. The reoccurring feelings of failure, always haunting to the mind and soul alike.
The entire trip to the Middle East was a less than comfortable experience for all of the Soviet Satellites. (Sans Belarus who seemed quiet content with herself and her brother.) Emerald eyes would flicker every so often to see him staring at her. "Kérjük, e célból." (Please make this end.) She muttered internally. It wasn't before long that her and the other Soviet prisoners arrived in Iran, where the proposed meeting of Communism was taking place. Oh well, at least it was better than rotting away back home.
Elizabeta had been paying well yet bitter attention to the Russian speak, praying to the father above when he was done. Exhuasted, she pushed herself out of her seat and proceeded to stand up, only to have her host nation formally greet her. She nodded in agreement, knowing much better than to be rude to the one who invited her hear in the first place. "Persze. I wouldn't mind a bit." She smiled, eyes slightly tired. Talking with another female maybe this wouldn't be too bad. If she wanted to speak to her, she had no reason to deny.
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Post by Iran on Mar 26, 2013 17:11:35 GMT -5
"Wonderful!" Shireen smiled. "Please, follow me." As they departed the conference room, she heard Reza talking to Ivan and mentally made a note to thank Reza for taking Ivan off of her hands as her patience was about to expire. She was as curious as anyone as to how things worked in his system of governance and this was after all, a fact-finding mission at the behest of her own democratically elected prime minister- but... she still didn't really trust Ivan. It hadn't been so long ago that she'd had to acknowledge that he and Arthur had been ready to divide her into three, a completely unacceptable situation. And of course during the war she'd only been seen as a means to an end, and those means, as usual, were supply routes and oil...
Shireen led the way down the corridor to a much smaller room not too far away. It was one of her favourite rooms, more of an enclosed, screened porch than an actual room.
Here, what breezes could be had in Tehran passed freely through the cut wooden privacy screens that made up the walls, and the roof above blocked the heat of the sun. While the conference room had had a distinctly more modern feel to it, this enclosed porch was a throwback to earlier times, with its carpets and cushions.
Shireen arranged some cushions to her liking and gestured for Elizabeta to do the same, before attending to the tea service that she had instructed to be left out for the use of herself and any guests. The tea service also included coffee, as Shireen had been unsure of her guest's preferences. Well, time to find out, she thought, even as she mentally wondered if an iced drink might not have been a better choice. Poor Elizabeta looked...well, not her best self. Shireen wasn't sure if it was the journey, or the heat, or some other cause, but at any rate it would have been rude to remark upon it, especially so early in the conversation, so Shireen contented herself with merely asking:
"Would you prefer chai or coffee? Or perhaps something cooler?" she added. I can send for something cooler if she'd like, Shireen reasoned. Strawberry, lemon and cucumber juice, perhaps... why didn't I put it out? Western countries are still so difficult to figure out... except for England and sometimes France I don't always know what they expect really...
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Post by Hungary on Apr 1, 2013 9:55:55 GMT -5
The Magyar had begun to trail behind the other feminine nation, more than gracious that she was potentially saved from a painful evening with Ivan and the other satellites. Mentally, she shuddered at the thought. That was what she needed a break. A break from him and everyone in general. Just some peace of mind and solitude for a few moments so she could really comprehend what was going on.
No, she knew what was going on. With her country, her people. Basically she felt herself growing weaker and weaker as the days, months and soon years began to pass. Her hair had lost some of it's luster and grew dryer, bags were forming under her tired eyes as she was very well aware that she had lost a few pounds at this point. Could have been worse, the Baltics well she had seen little of them, Elizabeta could only hold pity for them. Things were bad for everyone at this point, Mátyás Rákosi had been especially brutal with his methods. Since she and her people had been much more rebellious, she had to deal with both Rákosi's and Ivan's harsh punishments. First the Mongols, then Sadik and Roderich....could she ever be happy for once?
The Hungarian woman smiled as Shireen offered her a few drink options. Despite the warmer climate she was dealing with, Elizabeta wanted something warm. It gave her a sense of protection. "Coffee would be nice, thank you." She put a false smile to her host, hiding all the pain and suffering she was enduring.
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Post by Iran on Apr 9, 2013 12:38:52 GMT -5
Shireen poured her guest a tiny cup of coffee, and then poured one for herself. She recalled that Elizabeta had lived with Sadik, so she had no qualms about doing so. Alfred had complained that Shireen made coffee 'wrong', but Shireen couldn't think of a much more wrong way to make coffee than the way Alfred did. Far, far too much water. It was nonsensical really. How were you supposed to appreciate the actual taste of the coffee if you drown it in water?
"You should try some of this date cake too," Shireen said, cutting a slice for Elizabeta, plating it and pushing it towards her. "It's just the thing to go with coffee. Well, this is nice, isn't it? Just us girls? I know my boss wanted me to do some fact-finding, but when it's nothing but speeches it's pretty hard to find the facts!" she laughed, hoping to put her guest at ease. "Tomorrow shouldn't be quite as bad," she continued. "I thought we might go see the bazzars while Reza gives everyone else a tour of the mosques."
Shireen wanted to get directly to the matter at hand, but it just wouldn't do. She couldn't ask Elizabeta directly all of the questions she wanted to. It just wasn't done. You had to be gracious, you had to be careful, you had to not spook your guest. You had to redirect things....
"Of course there are some architecturally remarkable mosques here, not as beautiful as the ones in Esfahan, of course," she said casually. "I wonder what Ivan will make of them... Communism seems to be rather...stark and unrelieved in the department of architecture." There. Would Elizabeta respond to that? It was not a directly topical remark, and it was merely Shireen expressing her own opinion. Surely that was safe enough!
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Post by Hungary on May 1, 2013 20:32:35 GMT -5
Elizabeta took the small cup of coffee as she caught glimpse of the Iranian nation offering her a slice of pastry. "Again, thank you very much." She gave Shireen a warm smile before she took a light sip of her beverage. The steamy, warm sensation melted her aching soul as the liquid went down her throat a hum of relief could be heard as she lifted the cup from her lips. A little slice of a long awaited heaven.
The Hungarian female then lifted her plate and fork of date cake, cutting herself a ginger forkful prompting herself to lift her selection as she placed it in her mouth. Perfection. How long had it been since she tried something this delectable? Far too long, meal wise she had been suffering just as much as her Magyars- with the rare exception of communist officials who supported Stalin and his regime. The fellow nation was saying no deceit when she said the cake was good. In fact, she had proceeded to wolf down the dessert in a a rather gluttonous fashion. Probably showed how famished the brunette really was.
All the while, Hungary attentively listened to Shireen speak to her, nodding everytime she spoke. She remembered the first time being told to not speak with her mouth open and to be a "proper young lady". Memories still fresh and branded.
"I wonder what Ivan will make of them... Communism seems to be rather...stark and unrelieved in the department of architecture."
Emerald optics glared upwards in a bit of curiosity as the other woman spoke those words. Was she asking her a question? Surely, she had to have held some sort of interest towards communist life. Was nothing new to Elizabeta, the rest of the world had been watching wide eyed, only left to wonder what was really going on behind that Iron Curtain. Pondering on her question, she did think. Almost every satellite had a some sort of Stalin worshipping piece of work. Even Gilbert had his share of interesting works since his half of Germany became influenced by communism. In her heart, she wanted to say something. That burning desire to speak and burst of what life under oppression was really like. She opened her mouth slightly to speak, only to remember that their were in fact some Soviet officers that Ivan brought with him on their trip. While they were forced to obey within Iranian law, once they were back in Europe it was a different song.
"A fenébe is." ("Damn it.") She cursed mentally before speaking. "Well, I guess it would really depend on the perspective of who it was coming from." Another fake smile was forced on her tired face. "Some might see it as beauty, others may not. Honestly, I do find it quite interesting, but I still enjoy my traditional Magyar art." She said, swallowing another piece of cake.(ooc: herrrr, failpost is fail.>_<)
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Post by Iran on May 27, 2013 13:28:05 GMT -5
Shireen was pleased to see her guest enjoy the date-cake with such gusto! So many Western nations either didn't really know how to appreciate food, or were deplorably shy about seeming greedy when they visited. It really was a cultural disconnect, she suspected. But there again, Elizabeta had lived in Sadik's house for at least a little while, so she was easier to understand than most.
Elizabeta's guarded answer on Soviet art was a little less than what Shireen had hoped for, but she hadn't really expected much more. It wasn't as though Elizabeta had much reason to trust her, and especially if her situation was...precarious, as Shireen suspected it might be, Elizabeta would have to be very careful about what she said, and to whom.
Still, they were in Tehran, and for at least a little while, Elizabeta would be kept away from Ivan as much as possible without either party getting too suspicious. Shireen had chosen her potential source of information as carefully as possible.
"It's definitely good to have pride in one's own national art," Shireen said pleasantly. There, that was about as non-committal as Elizabeta's own statement. "Perhaps you would be interested in visiting a carpet-maker while you're here in Tehran? I have great pride in my national handicrafts too, you see?"
Time to try a slightly different approach then... "Architecture isn't for everyone though, is it? Tell me, Elizabeta, of your very own national arts, which is your favourite?" Shireen asked, topping up Elizabeta's coffee cup and her own, and plating another slice of date cake for both of them as she spoke. It would have been the height of rudeness not to do so- and this sort of cake was really best while fresh. The key with everything- date cake, important conversations, international treaties, it was all a matter of patience. Everything came to those who waited.
((OOC: Sorry for the late reply!))
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Post by Hungary on Jul 26, 2013 19:27:42 GMT -5
(ooc: S'okay, mine took even longer. lmao)
Still savoring the dessert dish, Elizaveta pulled the fork out of her mouth, setting the silver utensil towards the rim of her cake dish. A decorative relic honestly, triggered old memories of back when people and other nations referred to her as Ottoman Hungary. Sadik had introduced her to various gems from his land and neighboring territories. Many were fascinating for the European nation, despite the occasional times she would deny the opinion. Especially towards the former Ottoman Empire himself. Shaking thoughts from the past back where they belonged, the brunette smiled at Shireen's offer. "That would be amazing, Köszönöm." She replied in return, the idea truly did seem fun, and it would be perfect timing to just relax and enjoy the sites that Tehran had to offer, who knew maybe she would be able to bring a quality Persian carpet back home. Though she was probably getting ahead of herself, the fact she was able to enjoy this unrestricted peace was a gift in itself...
As for the next question, that was a bit more challenging. Not due to the fact that she had rules to obey within Soviet limits, (Granted, it might have been best to speak highly of the communist architectural works within her borders.) though the sheer fact she had so many different buildings and sculptures, she could easily find herself speaking highly of. Where to start, where to begin that was the question Elizaveta truly had to ask herself.
"Well, I could speak from a biased opinion when I say there are many buildings and sculptures I could speak highly of." The Magyar began to speak, watching the Iranian nation place another slice of pastry on her plate, no decline from Elizaveta herself. "For starters, I do enjoy the Hungarian Parliament Building, or Országház. as it is known in my language. It's the largest building in my country and very attractive to the eye." She found herself speaking of ideas that she enjoyed. Nothing communist related or Soviet influenced, just the architecture built from the tired yet strong Hungarian hands. Ah yes, Elizaveta could clearly remember those days when the building was due for construction, shortly after Budapest was unified to become her capital, the parliament building taking representation of her sovereignty and freedom following the years after her marriage that granted her citizens the freedom they were dearly craving. It was indeed a pity that the red star of oppression perching atop its one proud dome. Releasing a small sigh at the notion, she traced thought back onto other works she took national pride in. "There is also the Gödöllő Castle, it is the last remaining baroque structure, aside from Versailles. Emperor Franz and Queen Elisabeth used to live in the palace shortly after they were crowned king and queen of Hungary." She spoke, a tiny grin on her features as emerald optics glinted through their tarnished state. "There are also several Turul statues scattered throughout my land. The Turul being the mythical falcon that led my ancestors and founders to the land my citizens and I currently call home." She explained to the other woman, finding herself growing more and more comfortable as she spoke. Picking up the plate from the table, Elizaveta's orbs met Shireen's. "Do you have any nice architecture here in your country?" She asked, a harmless question, hoping she would earn a friendly response.
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