towerofanimus | Bon Anniversaire indeed [OPEN]

Entry tags:

Bon Anniversaire indeed [OPEN]

Characters: Canada; OPEN
Setting: Floor Seven; Floor Five (July 1)
Format: Starting prose, whatever you want
Summary: Canada discovers some new floors.
Warnings: angst, surely.

Seventh Floor

Canada peered into the pool, uncertain of its depths. She was a strong swimmer and those caves down below were intriguing. Maybe just a little dip into the water, but she didn't have a swimsuit. This was a strange thing to wake up to on her day of all days. Canada Day present perhaps? She wasn't sure. For now she waffled at the edge of the pool, Kumariie batting at the water's surface beside her.

Fifth Floor

The viewfinders were new and strange and she settled in front of one with a bit of wariness.

"Is...this home now?"

The sense of connection was almost immediate, but it took her breath away to see the devastation. The world she saw through the viewfinder was bare, desolate. If she stared long enough, she almost recognize landmarks and then suddenly, her heart hurt. A sudden heart-wrenching pain that brought tears to her eyes when even the view of her world could not. She felt her millions of people die and all that...that pain.

She pushed back from the viewfinder and buried her face in her hands, sobbing as quietly as she could. She wanted to be home...Only home was gone now wasn't it?

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Of course, saying that drew America's attention to the viewfinders in question.

"Why, what's in 'em?"

His mind flitted through various ideas, most of which could be pulled from the pages of the cheesiest B horror flick.

"...Home...Sort of. Dead home." Her voice choked a little at the remembered pain and she glanced away.

"Don't do it, please. I know you'll want to, but it hurts."

"Wait, what?" Again America's eyes flickered, lingering on the viewfinder. "What do you mean? Like, you saw home through there?"

And it made her cry? Well, she'd said dead home.

"There's no way it's real, it's just a picture they threw up there."

She went silent, trying to find a way to explain how much it hurt, how horrible it had been, without actually pushing him to a viewfinder.

"I felt--it's--death. All of their deaths. Everyone at once. All of me--my people died."

America blinked at her. He understood what she was saying, but trying to imagine how something like that would feel--wait.

"It's just a machine, it can't do that. It was--I dunno, something else. It can't be real."

His world had to still be there. Even if he was here, his world wasn't just gone.

She shook her head, determination layered over her misery. She knew what she felt. If they were fooling her, it was such a horrible thing to do to her...And it was too real--felt too real.

"I felt them...I felt them all...Why--Why couldn't they have not shown me at all!"

She would have least still had hope.

"How can I be here..."

"If you're still here everyone at home's fine," America said, sounding annoyed, though it was directed at the tower and the situation, really. "Here, move over."

America ignored the fact that there were plenty of viewfinders in the room in favor of leaning in to try to get a look through the one Canada had looked through.

"I know what I felt--Ugh."

Canada made a token effort to stop him but the sullen part of her that was used to having her opinions ignored wanted him to feel it as well. Then he'd have to believe her, right?

She slid back a little, waiting silently.

He'd expected to see a dead world--he hadn't really expected video, but that wouldn't be that hard to fake, right? So, trying to look for signs of manipulation or wires or anything, he didn't really think about what he was seeing (the ruins of Washington DC) until he was hit with the pain--unmistakably the death of a large group of his people, larger than he'd ever experienced before. He stiffened, but the most obvious sign was the crack and snap of the metal table as his hand clenched through it.

And then a group of people in a park and what had happened it was like someone had tried to pull them inside out through their mouths--

He jerked back away from the viewfinder instinctively, overbalanced, and landed on the ground.

Canada's regret was instant as she saw his face change, saw the table snap. She knelt beside him in a hurry. She reached a hand out hesitantly, grabbing his hand and squeezing.

"S-See what I mean--I'msorry, I shouldn't have let you, I told you it was--It's horrible."

America had an instant, now looking at her, where he hadn't any idea what to say. Not even where to begin, not a word, not even a syllable. His mouth hung slightly open as he processed, and while he took a breath to speak he let it out again before trying, once he felt her hand, to speak again.

"That's not--that couldn't have happened. It couldn't."

There wasn't force behind the words, just desperate denial.

Canada really wanted to believe that. She really wanted to deny it all, to pretend she hadn't felt that...

"I wish...I wish that was true--but we both felt it. Right? It has to be--but it can't be right? We're here, we are them."

"We're not dead," America said, looking down at himself as if he might suddenly realize he was dead all along--he'd liked that movie, oh, but everyone who was in it had their lungs spilling out their throats now--

"They can't be dead. We're right here."

But Molly was from America, wasn't she?

"We're right here." Canada repeated, clenching America's hand tightly. Sure he was the wrong America, but she really needed another nation right now. She needed someone else who understood. America, usually, understood.

"Maybe we're just dreaming..."

"Y-yeah, maybe it's like The Matrix," America suggested, a bit of life coming back into his eyes. "They can just make us feel whatever, it's not like it actually happened."

Though how would anyone know what something like that felt like?

Canada laughed aloud, a bit hollowly.

"Only you would think about the Matrix at a time like this."

She shifted to curl her legs underneath it. It didn't seem as if they were getting up any time soon.

"It could be."

"It's gotta be something like that," America said, shifting a little to accommodate her sitting on the floor as well. "It doesn't hurt right now. Wouldn't it just keep hurting?"

Morbid logic, but the best he could manage.

Canada leaned towards him a little, instinctively craving contact. She really wished they had saved a citizen of hers...Someone to cling to and reassure herself with.

"I don't think it would ever stop hurting..."

"Yeah." America's tone drifted back down into distant and shaky, but he recovered it. "So--so it's fake. They found some way to fake it. Somehow."

Canada remained silent. She'd felt it, deep within her. Felt those deaths. She rubbed her eyes, brushing away tears before they fell. She couldn't agree or deny. Not knowing if what she felt was real was the worst thing in the world.

He'd felt it, too, but he couldn't even begin to handle it in any real level. It had to be a lie, because if it was true...

Molly was from America. Who else? He wanted to go find them. Do a poll, or something. Maybe he could check on his birthday--

Wait. What day was it?

"...Happy birthday."

Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly sobbed aloud. She curled in on herself even more, somehow, head dropping against America's shoulder as she tried not to sob.

"T-Thanks..."

America patted her on the head a bit uncertainly--it wasn't as if his Canada had never done something like this, it was just weirder when it was a girl.

"We'll get home before next July."

She nodded silently, not moving her head from his shoulder. She caught herself staring up at the viewfinder. Horrible morbid interest made her want to try it again, see if she was just crazy and the sensations were something else entirely. Fear held her back.

"That's a long time. A whole year. I was sort of, you know, going to aim for Christmas. Who's going to decorate the tree and all if I'm not there. Or give everyone presents and stop England and France from getting drunk and fighting?" She tried to be lighthearted for once. This America was just as upset as her.

"If we get out by Christmas we're still out before next July," America said, smiling a bit as his good humor attempted to return. "But they'd fight even if you were there, y'know."

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