[OPEN] ANXIETYYYY

[polishrule.livejournal.com]

Characters: Poland and every last person ever.
Setting: Room 1-18, stairs, cafeteria
Format: Action.
Summary: Poland is new, Poland is shy, and Poland is confused. Sure are a lot of strangers in this here tower, but his search to figure out where the hell he is has him going all over.
Warnings: Poland being very shy.

['Your world has been destroyed. I saved you. Let's all be happy here'

That made absolutely no sense. If his world had been destroyed, he wouldn't even be here now. And who saved him? Those burning questions are pretty much gone, though, once he realizes that in the room he's in.

And that there are people he does not know. It takes him a few moments (moments filled with quivering and very obvious stranger anxiety) before he makes a run for it. He has no idea where he is and it kind of pisses him off. Was he kidnapped or something? Kidnapping is lame.

He gets lost a few times before he manages to find his way to the cafeteria because he smells food and hey, food. Food is always good.]

Comments

[polishrule.livejournal.com]

[Probably the best code one could have. But he sits down next to him and nods.]

Um, yeah. Got some weird message and some weird room and oh my gosh, there are so many stairs...

[creme-master.livejournal.com]

One small trunk for all your personal belongings... rather bare. [Yes, Francis sounds apprehensive about such a travesty, but the stair comment made his lips twitch into a smirk. Let's force the trunk and small bed out of mind.] Have you met your roommates yet?

Dieu... it is like we are university students. Uck.

[polishrule.livejournal.com]

Nope. I like, saw people and I was all "Ew, no" and walked out. [More like he ran out. Poland and strangers really doesn't go well.]

This totally sucks. Is the food even good here?

[creme-master.livejournal.com]

[clucks his tongue] Quel dommage! I would offer to let you room with me -- my roommate must have decided to leave on his own -- mais... I do not think they allow for such a thing. I am sorry, Pologne.

... [glancing toward the food he'd tried to muscle down he shook his head before brightening just so] They allow you to cook your own food. I was just distracted today. Hm.

[polishrule.livejournal.com]

Oh my gosh, seriously? This is so unfair. I think they should totally allow it. Maybe I can like, make a complaint or something.

[He looks at the food and then pouts.] So I have to cook if I want anything yummy?

[creme-master.livejournal.com]

[Leaning in, voice barely above a whisper.] I am a bit weary of our saviors and do not want you to test their gracious act. [AKA "Disappear for complaining to the wrong person. Like Belarus probably did...]

The perk is that you only have to sleep in your bed, cher! Otherwise you are free to roam about. Just watch your step in a few places...

Including the oven, supposedly. [Francis is back to normal volume now and seems amused--how he was introduced to the 'turmoils' of their oven still quite fresh. He let his head rest propped on his knuckles.] There are better days, of course. I would not suggest the meat pies, but ay. I am a picky man.

Cooking is oddly therapeutic, here.

[polishrule.livejournal.com]

[Poland...

Has no idea what you said just then, France. He looks at him confused.] What?

But like, I guess that isn't so bad. This place doesn't seem too totally grody. Just...weird. And kind of needs better decorating. [The things he could do...]

The ovens? Are they really hot or something? [Is he missing something obvious? He probably is. He always is. ]

Yeah, I am so picky too, but ugh. I don't want to cook. That's work! You like cooking, right? You should make things I can eat!

[creme-master.livejournal.com]

The decorating is a bit stark, is it not? [France knew better than to try and reason with Poland. Learned that mistake. If a pony would have fit in the trunk he was sure the man would have pulled it out for nostalgia.]

I still don't know, for sure-- they're very large. Maybe that's the only issue. I heard it from the female America though so who knows? Overactive imagination...

Perhaps I could make a meal or two but you'll have to make some of your own, non? I like it; I'm not a maid. [Seriously, if this was a meme maybe, but France says NAY.]

[polishrule.livejournal.com]

Totally stark. It needs a paint job if you ask me. Maybe something more peppy. [Oh, the ideas he has for this place. And yes, that is what he's thinking about. Painting the place.]

...Female America? [America is a guy last time he checked. Or at least he always thought so.]

Ugh, but it's cooking! I don't like cooking and being over hot stuff. I get sweaty and my hands get dirty...[Pouting here.]

[creme-master.livejournal.com]

[Just as long as it isn't 'bitchin' pink', Pologne.]

It is rather... Je ne sais quoi--sterile? Sterile, yes. White. As if we needed more reasons to find anxiety in our situation...

Oh. Amelia. [He chuckled at Felix's confusion] Apparently this place has drawn people from different realities. There is a universe that counters our own, non? There is a version of me here--lovely, she is, and Amerique.

It is all very strange. [Smirk] One must get their hands dirty at world's end, Pologne. <3

[polishrule.livejournal.com]

[Ew not for here. He was thinking peach.]

White totally isn't working for this place. It's like...oddly creepy or something. Totally anxious.

...Uh huh. [He's not really getting it, but okay!]

I don't have to get my hands dirty. Liet always does all the cooking anyway.

[creme-master.livejournal.com]

[Mun's bathroom is peach... I don't know man. Peach might be too much.]

[smirk]

Then make him do that, no? You could tell him that it is good to keep normalcy.