05. those hours that with gentle work did frame

[keepscalm]

Characters: England and you!
Setting: Floors 5, 15, 28, 29, 33, and 35 specified -- wandering to all the other places!
Format: Starting action, will match.
Summary: England explores the new floors, stops by some old ones, and is reminded of a few things he may have been avoiding.
Warnings: Probably language; mentions of aquaphobia, genocide, and alcoholism; potentially England getting drunk and being an idiot; nation woes. Will edit for anything else.

Floor 15
[Sewing? England sure is. He needs a new dress shirt. The ones that came with him to this place are a little dingy and getting noticeably worn, and he prides himself on being presentable, thank you very much.

He's already got the barest minimum of an olive green shirt constructed. It has no pockets, sleeves, buttons, or collar yet. But it's coming along nicely! There are a couple things in a repair pile next to him, too. Maybe he'll fix something else too, if he's asked nicely.]

Floor 28
[Even before he sees any of the floors above this one, England is confident that this is the Tower's best new addition. He immediately feels at home when he finds himself among the instruments, though there is also a rush of awe at just how many of them seem otherworldly. Part of him wants to investigate them close-up, to hear their unique timbres of sound. He doesn't want to risk breaking any of the beautiful instruments out of ignorance, though.

However, most of them he finds very familiar. Particularly when he passes a section of classic string instruments -- and, not too far ahead of those, guitars.

Needless to say, anyone who stumbles upon England on the twenty-eighth floor will find him lounging against the wall, strumming away at the bass plugged into the amplifier next to him and having the gall to actually look content while he does so. Some of the bass lines he's playing are recognisable, to those who know British Invasion bands well.]

Floor 29
[At first, England thinks the twenty-ninth floor is merely a garden, from all the beautiful plants that greet him at the top of the staircase. It isn't until he starts down one of the paths created by the winding hedges that he realises it's a maze (which he discovers he's actually in the center of), and quickly backtracks so as not to get lost. It's a beautiful place, but-- well, he doesn't trust any maze created by this Tower. Perhaps he'll brave it at some point when he has a plan of action and a reliable companion.

For now, he'll just be surveying the exotic plants in the middle of the maze close to the staircase, wondering at how he can't seem to place any of them as being from home.]

Floor 33
[Is it? Is is. Dirt. Honest-to-god dirt that doesn't have murderous plants growing out of it or mutant animals roaming it. And there's a shed over there. A shed that England finds actually has tools.

Yes, he'll be hard at work here on a small area he makes for himself close to the shed, planting seeds for as many kinds of flowers as he could find in the tiny wooden shack's stock. Though he'll also be keeping an eye on the staircase. He doesn't want to get run off the edge of this bizarre floating level.]

Floor 35
[He needed water for his seeds. He didn't expect to find a whole lake full of it not three floors away.

It looks stagnant. Dead. Water shouldn't look dead. Water is supposed to sustain life. England carefully toes the shoreline of the lake for a few feet before he gingerly lowers himself to his knees and rolls up his sleeve. There's a moment of consideration before, with caution, he first submerges his fingers in the water. When nothing bites them, eventually his hand goes with it. And then he's in the water up to his elbow, and noticing that there is suspiciously no muddy silt beneath his fingers even though he should barely be in the shallows. There's far too much depth for being so close to the shore.

He pulls back his arm sharply, reminded of the last time he was anything close to submerged in water in this tower. He aches for the oceans of home. They're a monster he's at least familiar with. This is like staring into the uncanny valley of how he's most afraid of dying.]

Floor 5
[He's always sped past this floor because the Tower workers unnerved him to a degree that he couldn't ever hope to explain. The truth is, England has never noticed the viewfinders in the outer ring. It's curiosity that takes root and finally makes him step away from the staircase so that he can peer through one -- after he surveys the thing to make sure it won't take out his eyes.

What he sees is strangely desolate. He's seen areas look more lively even after thorough bombing. He doesn't understand at first. He just watches, some alien pain gradually creeping up on him as he sees more and more of the wasteland through the viewfinder.

The pain gets worse the longer he looks through the port. Or maybe he just becomes more acutely aware of it. It comes to be so bad that his knuckles go white holding the sides of the device. He feels empty. On the verge of collapsing from the inside out. He feels such overwhelming loss that it eventually brings him to his knees like a blow to the stomach (or an attack on his people).

It stops hurting once he crumples away from the viewfinder, a hand clutching his chest like he's worried his heart will fall clean out of it. The ache is gone, but he feels short of breath regardless, as if the wind has been knocked out of him. He vaguely registers that his eyes are wet.

That was his world. His people-- his history.

Or what was left in its wake.]

Wandering
[Anywhere else that England might be found, he looks investigative -- curious, but cautious in the way he approaches things, especially in the newer floors. It's probably best not to sneak up on him. He's not bothering to hide the knife sheathed in leather at his belt, and surprising someone who's armed and used to danger is likely a pretty bad idea.

Comments

Floor 5

[champagnedelis]

[Morbid curiosity had brought her back to this floor, urging her to look through one of those horrid viewfinders again - to assess if it truly was real or not.

She didn't expect to find the male England there though, and not so obviously distressed.

She comes up behind him and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, pretending not to notice how his eyes are shining with tears.]

Allons-y, mon cher - don't be fooled by their trickery.

[keepscalm]

[He's having a bit of a moment, you see. Hopefully Francisca will forgive him the reaction of wrenching his shoulder away from her touch -- he can't be caught so unawares and vulnerable here, and it's reflex to pull away from whatever has chanced upon him in this embarrassing state.

He recognises her voice, though, and there's a touch of regret in his expression that he's not really in the mental state to hide right now. At least it's Francisca. He's embarrassed that anyone is seeing him like this, but she is one of the few that will understand his plight.

Despite shaking a little, his voice is remarkably composed, to make up for the cracking of his carefully-crafted mask.] It hurt. I didn't expect it to-- [He pulls his hand away from his chest, surveying it like he was expecting it to be covered in blood.] I wasn't expecting that. That's all.

[No, that's not really all, but he's not willing to admit that he's been here so long he sometimes forgets the weight of what he really is.]

[champagnedelis]

[She watches him carefully, keeping her hands to herself as she quietly murmurs:] It's cruel. The pain I mean - if it were true, we'd at least be dead and not feel it.

Think of it as another affirmation that it's not real.

[Her own England would have clawed her eyes out for intruding the private nation's personal space, but Francisca still found herself moving around until she was standing before Arthur, gracefully dropping down to her knees and taking his shaking hand in her own.]

Best not to dwell on it.

[He smaller hands curled around his, giving it a gentle squeeze.]

Come, I have some rum left somewhere - that should put the colour back in your cheeks.

Floor 28. Might come back later and tag 15. XD;

[queenofbass]

<sub>[Marceline's been in a vaguely grumbly mood all day; one of the monsters snuck up on her the previous night and made a string on her bass snap trying to kill it, so she'd had to dig into her stores and re-tune the instrument. Her favorite shirt had a hole in the side where something had caught it, and she'd had to find a different shirt for the day. It's very minor stuff, but she'd been on edge for weeks waiting for the next major mess they were going to be put through, and frankly, it's grating on her nerves. But there were new floors to explore now, and she intends to take advantage of them.

The instrument floor was certainly something else, she marvels, and she pauses to pull the overlarge sunhat off her head (protection from outside floors, though she was going to have to find a parasol soon or something for variety), noticing the low tones of a bass. It could be more of the tower's craziness... or it could be a person. Either way, she's off the staircase and headed toward the sound, ready to pull her own bass from her back if it turns out to be bad, smiling when she sees who it is.]

Arthur! Hey, how's it been?</sub>

yes good all the tags

[keepscalm]

[Most people aren't exactly well-acquainted with his music-loving side, so that Marceline -- of all people -- should chance upon him makes him smile a little. His strumming slows to laid-back, almost lazy bouts of improvisation at her approach.]

'Ello, my dear. It's been fairly well for me, all things considered.

[He adjusts his sitting position and straightens up a bit, so he can be properly attentive when she talks.] And for you?

[queenofbass]

_{[Marceline's grin settles to something more subdued as she pulls her bass off her back and settles into a loose slump nearby. The guitar is settled across her lap, untouched while she listens.]}

Can't complain too hard. Still kicking.

_{[She looks around a bit; it's nice to see a floor dedicated to music, rather than the catch-all media room. She nods slightly at the bass in his hands.]}

Feel like jamming? _{[It's been a while since she got to jam with anyone, and though the only way you'd get her to say it would be on pain of permadeath, the idea of company doesn't hurt her feelings a bit.]}

Floor 28 because Zelda characters and music 8|b

[sageprincess]

[Zelda would have to agree with Arthur on this being one of the better floors to date. Even without the richness of magic empowering the notes of the instruments found within, there's something comforting and marvelous about having such an array of tones and styles to choose from.

But, of course, she's quite unfamiliar with many of them, including the bass Arthur plays. So when she finds the source of those thrumming lines, she stays back, listening quietly and trying to piece together how it works.

She'll... probably be there a while without intervention, but hey, the music is pleasant enough.]

[keepscalm]

[He's so up in his own world that he doesn't even notice he has an audience. The bass isn't exactly an instrument geared towards playing solos, though England's doing a pretty good job of it. His passion isn't loud or showy, though; it's focused and steady, just like the instrument he's playing on. He's very still save the graceful movements of his fingers over the strings and the measured tap of his foot.

Currently, he's a little upbeat with his playing. Unfortunately the cultural depth will probably be lost on Zelda, though hopefully she'll be able to appreciate the tune at face value.]

[sageprincess]

[Yes, it unfortunately is, but she's still captivated by the foreign instrument and how the normally so-very-formal Arthur Kirkland looks so at ease playing it. So she watches and listens and wonders at how different the song sounds from anything she's heard, aside from maybe that one time Minami told her about a little band called "Queen".

When she gets a sense that the song is winding down (or maybe it's just a lull in the music, it's not like she can really tell), she decides that maybe she should stop being a voyeur and alert him of her presence. So she applauds softly, a friendly smile upon her face should he look up.]

Floor 33

[notagiraffe]

[Taiki liked these new floors, the ones that were outside the tower. Even though they were still part of it they felt different, felt like they were actually outside unlike the meadow or the forest or even the floors open to the outside.

He was slowly getting stronger again, he was still pale and shaky but his fever had gone. He was mostly trying not to think about what had happened but he found it impossible to forget. He was terrified every time he left Eridan on his own, even though he knew he would not be much use in protecting him. He couldn't even fully trust Gohran since it seemed the tower could sever the connection between him and his shirei.

When he saw mister Kirkland he managed a small smile and went over.] Hello mister Kirkland...

[keepscalm]

[England's sort of messy from working in the dirt. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his hands are absolutely covered -- his arms are streaked in places too. He looks up when Taiki addresses him and offers a smile in greeting.] Hello to you, too. Are you affording yourself a bit of exploration, as well?

[notagiraffe]

[Taiki moved closer and nodded.] I am... the new floors are interesting.

floor 15

[restitchtime]

[she comes up here sometimes to make little stuffed things, items of no real importance beyond keeping her hands and mind busy. when there happens to be someone else at work on the floor (which there often is) she'll abandon that idea and observe them instead, more interested in their projects than the glint of her sunglasses would betray.

such is the case with England, who she watches impassively for a time before commenting.]

Shit, I'm starting to think that everyone in this tower can sew. Wasn't it supposed to be a dying art?

[keepscalm]

[He didn't notice the girl at all until she spoke. England is both very dedicated to his work and wont to space out, so the world can take a number once he really gets going on a project.

England spares the speaker a glance, to see if he's the one being addressed. He might have turned just a bit too quickly -- really, he's gotten so jumpy. Once he confirms that he is indeed being spoken to, his response carries a note of dry wit:] Then it's a good thing that there are people around to keep it alive and well, isn't it?

[He turns a little in his chair to face Rose, like a proper gentleman should when speaking. He's politely curious when he voices his question.] Should I take your comment to mean that you're another practitioner of this dying art?

[restitchtime]

Sure, but it makes everyone else feel less special and clever for doing it. And isn't that such a tragedy. [she crosses her arms and inclines her head a little, voice equally dry]

I know my way around a needle and thread, although I don't really have much to do with clothing. Fashion and I have never been the best of friends.

Floor 35

[mutab1e]

[Ew. Ew.]

[Of all the people Equius expected to be reaching into a lake when he entered the thirty-fifth floor, England was not one of them. He always seemed like a reasonable human. Apparently not, however, as that sure is him with his sleeves pulled up, sloshing around in dirty water. He doesn't quite succeed at keeping the disgust out of his voice.]

What are you doing?

[keepscalm]

[By the time Equius speaks, England has already had his moment and has taken his arm out of the water like he'd have lost the limb if he hadn't done so. The lake is unnerving. Despite that, he's very composed as he delivers his simple answer.] Assessing danger potential. The water is quite a bit deeper than it rightfully should be, unless I've forgotten how the bottom of a lake works.

[It was a better idea than jumping in. Not that he'd do something as stupid as that even if the water did look perfectly safe.]

Floor 15

[yang_phase]

Sakuya made her way quietly around her new surroundings -- it was easy, when you were barefoot, to avoid making unnecessary noise. It was only by chance that she came upon England, back turned, working on... something. A piece of cloth? She came up behind him, trying to peer over his shoulder.

"Hello. My name is Sakuya. I... do you know where this is?"

[keepscalm]

England very nearly ran his finger through with his needle (again) when someone spoke from a lot closer behind him than he really expected them to be. One would think, being as paranoid as he'd gotten, he'd be more aware of when someone -- or something -- was approaching.

He twisted in his chair to get a better look at whomever had managed to sneak up on him. England felt a little sorry for her. He wasn't really the warmest of welcoming committees. But if she was in need of aid, he'd do his best to give it.

"I'm afraid you've found yourself in a place we only know as 'the tower'," he answered, an edge of bitterness hiding underneath his sympathy. "And unless you've led an extraordinarily miserable life, you're probably not going to find it very pleasant here."

15th floor

[complementing]

[Minako curiously peeks into the room, an interested hum leaving her as she notices all of the things in the workshop. Most of the things here she doesn't even recognize, so for a while she's just wandering the floor, curiously inspecting everything.

After a while she arrives at the sewing crafts area, pausing to see the familiar sight of a person hunched over a sewing machine. How nostalgic it was to think of Bebe at a time like this... She smiles a little before slowly approaching the space. And then notices England.]

Ah, hello, sorry, I didn't see you there!

[keepscalm]

[The first thing he notices when he turns to look at her is the pair of striking red eyes peering at him. They kind of remind him of Prussia.

They look much better on this girl, of course.]

It's quite alright. You didn't disturb me. [He wonders if she intended to make use of the sewing machines too. There's still a few work stations available.]

Floor 5

[sovietbear]

[Ivan tended to come back here every now and then, for one reason or another. Mainly it was because even if this land he saw through the viewfinders wasn't real, the feeling, the brief connection, no matter how much it hurt... that was better than nothing at all. Better than the ache of nothing.]

[However this time he saw England, and despite their history, he smiled a little, noticing the clutching of his chest, and he moved to slowly sit beside him.]

I am not thinking it will be falling out... only my heart is falling out. So do not hold so tight, or you are going to be leaving marks. This tower is hurting enough, without you doing too.

[keepscalm]

[To say he was humiliated to be found in such a state was an understatement. And by Russia of all people just added to the feeling. He anticipated laughter, which would be par for the course, but it wasn't really something he needed right now.

He was surprised when Russia instead opted to sit next to him. And, even more than that, say comforting words.

England grimaces.] There's plenty of marks there already. Don't think I'd even notice a few more. [He still bears the scars of the burns from the Blitz. To say little of the others littering his chest, attacks that had been too close to London for comfort.

Still, Russia has a fair point. England lets out a shaky breath and has to all but pry his own hand away from his chest, finding it clammy and trembling once he does so. Predictably, his heart stays right where it is and there's no blood that would evidence the situation being otherwise. Still, he stares accusingly at the appendage that he has freed from its duties while he speaks to Russia.] And why've you come to this dreadful floor?

floor 28 - choo choo it's the backtag train

[beknightedheroine]

<sub>[Sayaka's spent the better half of an hour chasing a phantom melody in here - a far too familiar song in a far too familiar playing style, drifting through the air in just the right direction for her not to be able to figure out where it's coming from at all.

She hasn't even seen any violins. Cellos, violas, banjos, ukeleles, mandolins, lutes, guitars, every single wrong string instrument. No violins, and certainly not the violin playing the song Sayaka's searching for.

When she finds England strumming away, she huffs.]</sub>

At least somebody found what they're looking for.

all aboooooard

[keepscalm]

[England looks up at the girl, halting his playing when he does so. He blinks with somewhat widened eyes, as if she'd been standing there a long time and he had only just noticed her.]

And what is it that you seek, if I might ask?