towerofanimus | 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

"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."

"I cannot picture these eyebrows of which you speak. My England has perfectly normal eyebrows." Those words were punctuated with giggles at his scowl. And the way he had to say stupid every five seconds. So much alike.

"And she doesn't look stupid. Not really."

"You're sure it's England, then?" America asked, because England without eyebrows was weird. "Just imagine caterpillars. Those really furry ones."

"Are you sure yours just doesn't have caterpillars attached to his face all the time?"

It was almost plausible.

"I bet he'd do something like that," America said, trying to recall if the eyebrows had ever crawled away.

"Yours sounds...interesting. At least yours didn't whine about getting your hair tangled in sticks as a kid."

"No, he did that, too."

Canada ruffled his hair and raised an eyebrow, "Your hair isn't long enough to get sticks stuck in."

"Well, mostly it was burrs. But I was pretty good at getting stuff stuck in it anyway, when I was little!"

The tone is one that's rather proud of this accomplishment.

"I am sure you are just as accomplished now, if my America is any indication. Though it's more likely to be gum now."

"O-only sometimes!"

"Are you sure?" She grinned and poked his cheek, "At least you don't have to worry about that here right?"

Bon Anniversaire indeed [OPEN]

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