Post by unitedstates on Sept 14, 2010 23:45:43 GMT 1
Country: Russia (Россия)
Real Name: Ivan Braginski (Иван Брагинский)
Personality:
“Do I contradict myself?
Very well, then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”
---Walt Whitman
Very well, then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”
---Walt Whitman
In the modern era, Russia might appear to be the very portrait of post-Soviet success.
With the fall of the Union and rise of the Federation came a veritable flood of goods into the nation, offering variety where before had been only whatever was in production by the Soviet State. This has led to Russia becoming -- dare it be said? -- arguably fashionable in recent times. Gone are the shabby, shapeless coat and drab uniform. In their place are impeccably tailored suits, button-up shirts and snappy trousers, double-breasted overcoats, belts and shoes in buttery Italian leather, and so on; all abounding in sleek stitch-work and classic cuts, and even fur linings in colder weather. All of this paints him as very much the “new Russian” yuppie, and -- along with his soft, chiming voice, bell-like laugh, and occasionally naïve or seemingly shy manner -- suggests that he could even be almost charming this way. Almost. Most tellingly though, his eyes, once a clear and sobering violet, seem to have gone somewhat more flat and grey these days, though that might simply be an illusion due to the hazy plumes of cigarette smoke which are now so often found lazily lacing the air in front of his face.
Russia plunged into a weak and unstable condition for a time following the collapse of the Soviet Union. He gradually recuperated as the Russian Federation found its feet, and while his nation is no longer a superpower, he has since gained back much of his formidable physical strength. Even so, his frame is notably less stout than it once was, and at times he seems to move somewhat awkwardly, as though he is not yet accustomed to it. (This, actually, is very much the case.) The mass that he lost during the Union’s fall has altered his build, and now the jutting width of his chest and shoulders is strangely and exaggeratedly broad in conjunction with his more compacted middle, hips and legs. This lends his body a distinct sort of ‘Y’ shape, but at the same time causes him to appear longer, thus amplifying his already imposing height and -- coupled with his tendency to slouch slightly forward -- giving the impression that he is constantly looming.
Though still deceptively youthful in appearance, Russia’s face is not quite so round as it used to be, and possesses a just-perceptible strain, as though his serene façade has become more difficult to maintain. His smiles have further cooled at the edges, and are now apt to occasionally slide away into a glazed, far-off stare, especially when he is alone, thinks nobody is looking, or drifts deep into thought. Given the subtlety of these things though, it is likely that only the most observant among the nations would say that Russia looks perhaps slightly older or more tired than he used to; or would notice the sardonic, almost steely edge that lingers somewhere in the undercurrents of even his gentlest smiles. Feathery ash-blond hair, straight brows, wide, seemingly earnest eyes framed by long, pale lashes, and startlingly white skin -- white enough to take on the faintest blue tint in bright sunlight -- all do an effective job at softening the wintry sharpness and vague almost-hunger languishing in the shadows of his every expression.
All of these outward changes might lead some to believe that Russia has perhaps become a new person inwardly as well. However, a close look at his body or face, or at the ever-present scarf still loosely looped around his neck, will reveal that, while some things have changed, others have not. Though Russia might, in appearance, resemble a successful Westerner in recent times, inwardly he is still quite akin to his old self. And some things about his mentality will probably never change.
Long isolated and internalized, Russia seems to understand very little about others, and has few friends -- that is to say, none -- as a result. It hurts a bit, sometimes, but that’s the last thing he’d tell anybody. He speaks with a frank sort of honesty or naïveté that is, at times, appalling, and finds the manner in which others interact to often be a bit silly, especially with the way that they seem to always wind up fighting with each other in the end. While he is perhaps not quite as unpredictable, paranoid or intimidating in recent days as he used to be, he is still somewhat ‘unhinged’ and dread-inspiring, despite his gentle smiles.
Russia’s characteristic eccentricity can largely be attributed to the fact that his country’s history and existence is comprised of seemingly opposite extremes -- East and West, searing cold and blazing heat, vast power and wretched servitude, unprovoked cruelty and tender compassion, violent xenophobia and fierce longing for outside contact, simultaneous love and hatred for the same objects, and so forth. Russia does not reject these contradictions, and has learned to live both with and in them, as the so-called “Russian soul” is as spacious and prone to extremes as the very land itself. One life would not be enough to see all the places of this country, or to tame all of its wildness, and some might say that it is far too vast to ever be fully tamed. Appropriately then, even Russia does not wholly know himself -- he simply is. While some might wonder how the executioner can kill men for a living but go home to his wife and children every night with a smile, the mystery is totally lost on Russia, since he knows perhaps better than anybody that two such sides can indeed coexist. His kindness is as warm as his violence is vicious; his inclinations for despair as all-consuming as his dreams are infinite.
The fact that he has lived and carved out an existence for centuries in his unforgiving climate is perhaps the easiest explanation for many of Russia’s mannerisms and quirks. From this he has earned strength, the ability to endure lasting hardship, a peculiar cautiousness and reverence for the ‘tried and true’, and a rather bleak, fatalistic outlook on life. Given its difficult and tumultuous history, it is understandable that the Russian way is to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. “All that is done is done for the better,” the Russian saying goes, which on one hand implies optimism and adventurous outlook for the future, but on the other hand, sheer submission to the ever-changing, ever-unpredictable circumstances of life. While history has taught Russia how to live with misfortune, and to expect things to go poorly, this has also caused him to develop a nearly unrivaled sense of durability and resilience, the ability to suffer at great length, and the will to stay his ground even if he is driven to his knees in the process. It is this strange brand of stubbornness that has pulled him back onto his feet so many times before.
Even so, Russia would describe himself as a ‘realist’ rather than a ‘pessimist’. If asked how things are, Russia is very likely to shrug and say ‘normalno’, which can be translated as “normal”, or, more accurately in terms of nuance, “not too bad”. This word has further been described as “a wistful, ironic word, containing all the pain that came before and all of the hope of what might yet come to pass, the great dream of the present, a ‘normal’ society.” Again, this is a merging of seeming contradictions within Russia’s character. It is the hope for a brighter future despite the setbacks of the past. It is the longing for something unwavering and good despite having never before had reason to believe such a thing was possible. Russia does not want to strain at every sinew to lead the world in a mad competition to prove that his system is better than anybody else’s. What he wants is stability, security, and social order. Normality. And he wants it on his terms.
This might be difficult for others to understand, but it is truly simple. To a Westerner, ‘history’ is a newsreel or a textbook. To Russia, it is tanks and soldiers in his streets, violent invasions and spasms of revolutions, and constant foreign efforts to encroach upon the fundamental ways of his people. Repression has always come to him from the outside world, so naturally he has drawn away from it mistrustfully in the past, and now occupies a difficult-to-define role as neither ‘Western’ nor ‘Eastern’. He is simply ‘Russian’, and he has come to believe that he and his people are the only ones with the remotest idea of what that even means. In spite of all appearances, Russia doesn’t much like this feeling of being alone, but he doesn’t know how to change it, or if he even should. (It has only ended in pain and disaster before, after all.)
It can almost be said that Russia has, in a way, come to need his pain in order to move forward. His history is that of people forced to endure hardship and fight for what they wanted, so, if there is no pain to bear, then how can he be convinced that he is advancing? He desires normalcy, but seems to love suffering just as much as he hates it. And it shows. It is where ideas are concerned that Russia’s passions will begin to come to the surface, and, as such, conversations with him tend to be weighty and lengthy. This is the Russkaya dusha -- the “Russian soul” -- at its most apparent.
Among many things, the Russian mindset is known for “sensitivity, reverie, imagination, an inclination to tears (privately, of course), compassion, submission mingled with stubbornness, patience that permits survival in what would seem to be unbearable circumstances, poetry, mysticism, fatalism, a penchant for walking the dark, humid back streets of consciousness, introspection, sudden, unmotivated cruelty”, and so on. Russia’s mentality is a precarious, constantly shifting balance among these traits, and others. He does not attempt to compromise his contradictions. He punishes brutally but forgives willingly; believes in justice but snorts at law; sins but rarely repents. Russia’s mental health is questionable, his penchant for sudden, extreme violence undeniable, his darkness inescapable, and yet he is also capable of performing great feats of empathy for no apparent reason or gain, and, for this, there are those who would call him ‘inconsistent’ or ‘crazy’.
In sum, it can be said that Ivan is rather like the typical protagonist of Russian stories: struggling against a pervasive sense of dissatisfaction and deep melancholy, not knowing what he is striving for, and bearing all the pain it causes him in accepting, resigned silence simply because he doesn’t understand what he wants or needs.
Likes:
[/li][li] Vodka[/color]
He has said before that vodka is his fuel, though he has never specified whether or not this is a joke. Regardless, it is a bad idea to try to out-drink him. His alcohol tolerance is the stuff of legends. On the same note though, it is also unusual for him to actually get drunk. If this happens, chances are that it is quite deliberate, for reasons he will keep very much to himself, and most people would be advised to leave him be.
[/li][li] Sunflowers[/color]
For him, a symbol of warmth and happiness. Things that can be hard to come by oftentimes.
[/li][li] The arts[/color]
Some might be surprised by this, but Russia has a great love of literature, poetry and music, which are among the very few things with the power to move him to tears. He is particularly proud of his writers. When he is alone, he may read aloud to himself.
[/li][li] Control[/color]
Given his violent, tumultuous history, he has come to greatly value stability and security. He likes the feeling of power, and is sensitive to anything he views as infringement.
Dislikes:
[/li][li] Winter[/color]
Russian winters are known for their length and ferocity. During this season, anger, hostility, fatigue and depression increase among the Russian people, and the rates of vodka consumption and suicide rise. Political discontent also reaches its peak. As a result, Russia is a bit more moody than usual during this time.
[/li][li] Western hypocrisy[/color]
Russia doesn’t fully trust the Western nations -- America in particular -- since he believes them to often be two-faced and abusive of their power. Don’t bother telling him that his country is guilty of the same things though -- he has a nasty habit of disregarding information that reflects badly on Mother Russia. That, or accepting it and simply turning a blind eye.
[/li][li] Small talk[/color]
He can be laughably ungainly when it comes to socializing, and engaging him in pointless, shallow chatter will only make him irritated and unsure, and serve to drive him deeper into himself. It takes a patient, compassionate sort to draw him back out again, but most do not care to make that effort.
History:
862 -- Rurik establishes Rus state at Novgorod
882 -- Capital moves to Kiev
988 -- Grand Duke Vladimir I becomes Eastern Orthodox
1017 -- Yaroslav I issues the Russkaya Pravda, the first Russian code of law
1169 -- Prince Andrei Bogolubski moves capital to Vladimir, near Moscow
1237 - 1240 -- The Mongols invade and devastate Russia
1271 -- Moscow becomes capital of Grand Duchy of Suzdal-Vladimir
1380 -- Dmitri Donskoi defeats Tatars, takes title Grand Duke of Moscow
1462 - 1505 -- Ivan III, The Great, begins annexing surrounding areas, builds autocratic state; religious leaders proclaim Moscow “the third Rome”
1533 -- Ivan IV, The Terrible, becomes first czar; expands autocracy and begins annexation of Siberia
1589 -- Russian Orthodox Church becomes independent of other orthodox churches
1605 - 1613 -- Time of Troubles; Poland invades Russia
1613 -- Michael Romanov becomes czar; founds dynasty that rules until 1917
1689 - 1725 -- Peter I, The Great, becomes Russia’s first emperor; creates modern European power, promotes Western culture, and builds new capital at St. Petersburg
1762 - 1796 -- Catherine II, The Great, turns Russia into one of the strongest powers in Continental Europe
1812 -- Napoleon invades Russia; ferocious winter and Russian resistance devastate French forces
1861 -- Alexander II emancipates serfs and launches reforms
1904 -- Russia loses Russo-Japanese War; Revolution of 1905 forces Nicholas II to accept a parliament, constitution
1914 – 1917 -- Russia enters World War I; suffers defeats from Germany and Austria, morale collapses; revolution erupts
1917 -- Bolshevik Revolution: Bolsheviks take control; Russian Soviet Socialist Republic established; capital moves to Moscow
1918 - 1921 -- Red Terror: Lenin purges Communist Party; socializes economy; 5 million die of famine
1921 -- Lenin inaugurates New Economic Policy, allows limited free-market measures
1922 -- Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, and Transcaucasia form USSR
1924 - 1929 -- Stalin consolidates power; inaugurates first Five Year Plan, collectivizes agriculture and industry; famine returns
1936 -- Millions die in Stalin’s Great Purge (through 1953)
1941 -- Germany invades Russia
1945 -- World War II ends; Russia occupies Eastern Europe, establishes puppet governments; Cold War takes shape
1949 -- Soviets successfully detonate atomic device
1953 -- Stalin dies; Nikita Khrushchev becomes first secretary of Communist Party
1961 -- Soviets launch world’s first manned space flight
1962 -- Cuban Missile Crisis; Khrushchev withdraws missiles from Cuba
1969 -- Major border clashes with China
1978 - 1982 -- Soviets invade Afghanistan
1985 - 1991 -- General Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev attempts to improve faltering economy through glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring)
1991 -- Soviet Union disintegrates; 14 former republics become independent nations; Russian Federation formed; Boris Yeltsin appointed president
1992 -- Yeltsin ends supremacy of Communist Party, privatizes state-run enterprises, guarantees free press; businessmen and mobsters begin to take over economy; massive corruption sets in
1994 - 1996 -- Russia invades province of Chechnya; withdraws with heavy casualties
1998 -- Russian stock market crashes; economy collapses
1999 – 2000 -- Second Chechen war, Russia crushes rebels; Vladimir Putin elected president (reelected in 2004)
2008 -- Dmitri Medvedev elected president; Putin elected prime minister; Russia enters conflict between Georgia and breakaway region South Ossetia with military force
Sample Post: [From an rp with a friend. Sorry it is so…well. Weird.]
Dec. 26, 1991
He is too weak to attend the last meeting of the Council of Republics, but when the chamber at last dissolves itself -- and the USSR along with it -- Russia is already waiting in his private quarters for whatever will happen afterward, knowing now that it is over, and that his nation has finally been brought to its knees.
Knowing this does nothing to ease the pain, or close the trenches that have been carved into his body as the Union splintered apart, or fade his bruises or mend his bones, and it's a wonder that he's still standing at all, but his legs crumple under him soon enough, and he sinks heavily into a chair as spots of color crackle across his vision. A moment later, his nose is bleeding. He reeks of a battlefield. His politicians swarm around him like errant bees -- catching at his hands and his clothes and his face and all but beating him to keep him awake -- multiple voices shouting and stumbling over each other in a rising clamor, things like “Don’t close your eyes,” and “You can’t die,” and “Stay here, you fuck; stay with us”.
They all think it’s the end. They all think, wildly, in that moment, that he’s dying, but Moscow is there in his chest, still kicking in a frenzied, arrhythmic triple-time behind his breastbone; a warm red pulse in the stifling dark like a lighter flint and a tiny, sudden flame sheltered from the crush of the night behind the curl of a protective hand, the brittle fingers of his ribcage drawn up tight and trembling around this hot, feverish thing, Moscow--
--and so Russia clutches at his stained, unraveling scarf with cracked fingers and manages a watery, ragged, “Yes, I am here; yes.”
Heavy footsteps, and then there are hands on his cheeks, rough and human; president Yeltsin holding his face -- never minding of the sweat or blood darkening the roots of his hair -- standing over him and staring down into his clouded eyes and telling him, “I will fix you.” The hands tighten and give Russia a tiny shake. “I will fix you.”
Russia doesn’t realize that he’s weeping until those hands roughly pat the tears from his face, and he jerks back on a shuddering breath to lower his head into his own palms, muffling with fist and scarf the keening, snarling wail that claws its way up out of his throat, unexpected and unsettling as a distant bomb siren. The cry turns to a piercing shriek as several men haul him up haphazardly out of the chair and new wounds are roughly re-opened. Flesh tears and gives way under human hands that pull and grip too hard, and it hurts too much to even struggle, it hurts; and his men are weeping now too as they shift Russia’s wrecked body to lay across their interlocked arms and gingerly lift him onto the bed where he draws in upon himself, turning his face away and gulping in open-mouthed breaths against the pillow and trying very absently to remember what it was like when things were beautiful and painless, or if they ever were.
He closes up around Moscow -- that living coal tripping away its panicked tempo in the center of his chest even as each cut of his land and population sears into him and blood blooms through his clothes from the raw, angry wounds beneath -- closes himself up around that living, fighting, pounding thing, like a fist protesting God, and holds onto it and knows that he isn’t dying; that things will have to get better than this.
Someone's hand touches his shoulder, and Russia lifts his mouth from the pillow long enough to swallow thickly, and tell them, simply, through the mess of blood and tears, "I am still here."
That's as much as he can do.
(Wow, it feels wrong in so many ways to post this application using this account. Denmark and Norway, I apologize for any confusion caused during the past day or so.)