Belarus' Notebook (Murder Manor)
Oct. 11th, 2013 11:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mostlymarried[There is... some form of organisation to Belarus' notebook; investigation / escape notes and so on are in the front and a will is in the back. Other than that it's pretty rambly; more added as more happens with little sense of order beyond chronology.
That said, everything written is in Belarusian, so good luck with that.]
Escaping
Electric fence apparently extends into the sky by some mystery. Will have to move to ban such devices on my return; they are unholy. When I find the tools, must remember to try felling a tree on it. Our best shot.
Rock at six feet appears to be the norm. It is possible the basement or pond go deeper.
Chapel and stables are odd. Would indicate these structures have been here for some time, but the manor is completely unfamiliar. Converted or rebuilt?
Servants quarters are suspiciously sturdy. I cannot even damage them.
Memories
Tattered. My body is older than it should be and my recollections of my family and captors in the Commonwealth are blurred. Even the full name of the Commonwealth I cannot recall. I have a brother and I have a sister, this I know, but any further details are lost to me. My sister was also under the control of the Commonwealth, I think, but my brother was not. Maybe it was just a matter of time.
[pinned onto this here, obviously later, is a slip of paper in English and not written by her:]
Belarus is romantically obsessed with her brother.
[...with no accompanying commentary from Belarus save a '?' written on the end in confusion. Returning to her own notes...]
A few of us seem to share common linguistic characteristics but we do not seem otherwise involved. Given everyone seems to be taken from their own unique worlds I can only assume the same; nations are not uncommon after all.
[flipping over to the back, you can find a final note:]
Week one.
It appears we may be here some time; better to keep a record.
There are a several countries here and a few leaders here, it seems. What a mess. Poland is an imbecile and Latvia is hapless, but Ukraine and Lithuania seem reliable. Spain I cannot say; the man is never awake. This 'game' is a farce.
Lydia Martin is dead. It appears someone is lacking in morals.
May Bernkastel rot. A creature older than me should know better than to take part in this nonsense.
Week two.
Martin buried. God rest her soul.
There is little to do here. Escaping and digging seems less and less an option as the days go by. Problematic.
Minatsuki is dead. Mess.
[at this point, her handwriting gets distinctly... sharper]
Ukraine is dead. Annie Leonhart. There can be no mercy for this.
Week three.
It appears I am on grave duty. No matter. Why Leonhart is still allowed to live is beyond me. If she kills again, it is on Spain's head. We nations are 'expendable' here. These people are worthless. We have our own lives and existence; it is an insult to everything and everyone we represent that we can 'morally' be discarded so easily.
These incentives just become more insane with time, I see.
The Chapel needs repair. It depresses me. Something to do.
Week four
One of the aliens did it this time. Buried again. Was a suspect in the previous trial with Spain. Odd experience.
A document titled 'Declaration of State Sovereignty of the Belarusian --------'. As tempting as it is to free my people, a scroll that heavily censored is hard to trust.
Someone broke the doll.
Week five
Other alien dead.
New incentive is people. I don't recognise anyone in the crowd. It worries me.
Will, Burial and Testament
[this page has been conveniently bookmarked, should anyone need it]
I state in advance; I am not a Republic, nor a free and declared country. I am merely the embodiment of my people. We are simple; we farm, we pray, we drink. We are under the thumb of the Commonwealth and the Szlachta, and it is my hope that one day we might be free, or at least allowed to rise beyond being nothing but peasants and slavery. We are our own people; we are not for others to use.
I state again; for me, it is 1754. This place is foreign and filled with confusion. I cannot explain the contents of my information card; I can only trust it is false. As a believer in the Church, I hold my wisdom and account to the Pope and to God, and trust I will not be lead astray. I would, greatly, prefer not to be killed; I would see all leave this place and our hosts meet the ends they deserve. If I am struck down; bury me. A full service is not required, but I ask that I not be cremated. My body is my temple. Face my head west and my feet East. May my soul not wander forever. Should I fall from grace and take a part in this game myself, discard me.
May there be peace, and may we break free of our bonds tying us here.
That said, everything written is in Belarusian, so good luck with that.]
Escaping
Electric fence apparently extends into the sky by some mystery. Will have to move to ban such devices on my return; they are unholy. When I find the tools, must remember to try felling a tree on it. Our best shot.
Rock at six feet appears to be the norm. It is possible the basement or pond go deeper.
Chapel and stables are odd. Would indicate these structures have been here for some time, but the manor is completely unfamiliar. Converted or rebuilt?
Servants quarters are suspiciously sturdy. I cannot even damage them.
Memories
Tattered. My body is older than it should be and my recollections of my family and captors in the Commonwealth are blurred. Even the full name of the Commonwealth I cannot recall. I have a brother and I have a sister, this I know, but any further details are lost to me. My sister was also under the control of the Commonwealth, I think, but my brother was not. Maybe it was just a matter of time.
[pinned onto this here, obviously later, is a slip of paper in English and not written by her:]
Belarus is romantically obsessed with her brother.
[...with no accompanying commentary from Belarus save a '?' written on the end in confusion. Returning to her own notes...]
A few of us seem to share common linguistic characteristics but we do not seem otherwise involved. Given everyone seems to be taken from their own unique worlds I can only assume the same; nations are not uncommon after all.
[flipping over to the back, you can find a final note:]
Week one.
It appears we may be here some time; better to keep a record.
There are a several countries here and a few leaders here, it seems. What a mess. Poland is an imbecile and Latvia is hapless, but Ukraine and Lithuania seem reliable. Spain I cannot say; the man is never awake. This 'game' is a farce.
Lydia Martin is dead. It appears someone is lacking in morals.
May Bernkastel rot. A creature older than me should know better than to take part in this nonsense.
Week two.
Martin buried. God rest her soul.
There is little to do here. Escaping and digging seems less and less an option as the days go by. Problematic.
Minatsuki is dead. Mess.
[at this point, her handwriting gets distinctly... sharper]
Ukraine is dead. Annie Leonhart. There can be no mercy for this.
Week three.
It appears I am on grave duty. No matter. Why Leonhart is still allowed to live is beyond me. If she kills again, it is on Spain's head. We nations are 'expendable' here. These people are worthless. We have our own lives and existence; it is an insult to everything and everyone we represent that we can 'morally' be discarded so easily.
These incentives just become more insane with time, I see.
The Chapel needs repair. It depresses me. Something to do.
Week four
One of the aliens did it this time. Buried again. Was a suspect in the previous trial with Spain. Odd experience.
A document titled 'Declaration of State Sovereignty of the Belarusian --------'. As tempting as it is to free my people, a scroll that heavily censored is hard to trust.
Someone broke the doll.
Week five
Other alien dead.
New incentive is people. I don't recognise anyone in the crowd. It worries me.
Will, Burial and Testament
[this page has been conveniently bookmarked, should anyone need it]
I state in advance; I am not a Republic, nor a free and declared country. I am merely the embodiment of my people. We are simple; we farm, we pray, we drink. We are under the thumb of the Commonwealth and the Szlachta, and it is my hope that one day we might be free, or at least allowed to rise beyond being nothing but peasants and slavery. We are our own people; we are not for others to use.
I state again; for me, it is 1754. This place is foreign and filled with confusion. I cannot explain the contents of my information card; I can only trust it is false. As a believer in the Church, I hold my wisdom and account to the Pope and to God, and trust I will not be lead astray. I would, greatly, prefer not to be killed; I would see all leave this place and our hosts meet the ends they deserve. If I am struck down; bury me. A full service is not required, but I ask that I not be cremated. My body is my temple. Face my head west and my feet East. May my soul not wander forever. Should I fall from grace and take a part in this game myself, discard me.
May there be peace, and may we break free of our bonds tying us here.
