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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

"True." Canada's eyes closed for a moment, trying to calm down. Her heart still felt like it was racing and she still felt like she was on the edge of tears.

"France can usually be distracted by the possibility of getting a grope or two. She promised me that she'd try to get along better with England if she arrived but I doubt it will actually work that way."

"England's too dumb to show up anyway," America said, shrugging. "I didn't know France was here, though. Or your France, I guess."

"Too dumb? And she is...She came to wish me a happy birthday earlier. Is your France here?"

"I dunno. I haven't really looked for him. It's good England's not here, though, he won't be around to mess up my birthday."

"Right. Right I'm sure you don't want England here at all."

The skepticism. The sarcasm. Can you feel it.

"Of course not," America said, and his tone was even more obviously defensive than it might usually be. "What do I care what happens to him? He can go do whatever he wants."

"I shall be sure to tell him or her that America does not care if they were or were not saved."

America's tone switches to something almost angry. "Good, do that if you see him, 'cause I don't care!"

Canada stopped mid-reply. Oh right, this wasn't something they were doing at home, he wasn't the proper America and America wouldn't sulkily go show up at England's door, whining about tea and scones or something.

"...Sorry. It's...easy to fall into habit."

"He can go be dead if he wants, I don't care," America said, shoving the nearest viewfinder on its side.

"Hey--you don't mean that!" Canada scrambled to her knees, reaching out to stop America from destroying more crap. Her arms linked around him and she sighed.

"Hey tell me what he looks like and I'll tell you what mine looks like."

America blinked at her uncertainly, but after a bit of pause he spoke up. "He's got these stupid big eyebrows like caterpillars and stupid dark blond hair that's all messy, but then he yells at me for my hair being messy which is stupid. And he wears stupid outfits like sweater vests. And he's stupid."

Canada tried to picture it and failed, but she nodded anyways.

"I see. He's stupid, clearly. England has long blonde hair, straighter than mine and she wears it up in pigtails a lot--"

Canada remembered what France had said and giggled, scooting back, "Close your eyes for a second."

Regardless of whether he did or not, she took off her beret and redid her pigtails up on either side of her head. It felt really weird and she tried to blow her curl out of her face before it became too obvious.

"Okay this is how she looks. Her glasses are squarer. And she scowls a lot when she's scolding people and stuff."

"Well you probably can't look exactly like her, since she probably looks stupid," America said, nonetheless looking Canada over and trying to picture England with glasses.

"Well... I guess mine looks kind of like this."

America pulled his glasses off and ruffled his hair up, then put on his very best England scowl.

"But stupid. And with stupid eyebrows. And short. And I wear way cooler clothes."

Bon Anniversaire indeed [OPEN]

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