towerofanimus | 06. what could death do if thou shouldst depart?

Characters: England and you
Setting: Backdated through the month of June; various places in the Tower
Format: Starting action, will match!
Summary: England wakes up following his death, decides to be a nosy asshole, and then remembers what month it is.
Warnings: Mentions of character death, vivisection, surgery, Anglo-American history, gore, violence, language. Will edit for anything further.

Backdated to 6/13 (following his vivisection) - Open; dormitory hallways, floor one, floor two, floor three

[He awakens in his room somewhat sluggishly, blinking his eyes open to the bleary sight of the drab ceiling above him. He feels dreadful. It's as if he's been unconscious for a few days. For all he knows, he has. He could liken himself to the walking dead.

Dead. Walking dead. He died. Nine months -- it was nine now, wasn't it? -- and he finally died. He was killed. Murdered, really. No wonder he's tired. Death by vivisection would exhaust any normal person.

God, he was vivisected. Jason literally hollowed him out until there wasn't enough to keep his body going -- and probably continued after that, too, until there was nothing left at all. All of his vital organs -- pieces that represented his country -- removed from him like nothing more than small trifles. What a way to go.

It doesn't bother him as much as the fact that he'd had an audience does.

Screaming.

The memories of distraught cries flood back to him in a rush that makes him bolt upright. America. His boy, his dear, darling boy, saw Jason do that to him. Zelda, Link, Taiki...everyone. Everyone saw. People he cares about had to watch him die.

England's eyes harden and narrow into a glare. His head is swimming with vertigo, but he hardly notices through the anger that is burning through him. It's a fire he hasn't felt in a long time. Not since he came to the Tower. Probably not even before that. It's a righteous kind of fury that has him throwing aside the covers and swinging his legs out of bed to take him towards his trunk. He retrieves his weapons and his clothes to dress himself with automatic motions.

Resolve. The anger within him thrums with resolve.

England will be making his way to the third floor library via the elevator from the dorms to the ground. Catch him on the way?]

Backdated to 6/15 through 6/25 - Closed; all floors

[Casually puts filler here.]

Backdated to 7/1 - Open; room 1-20, 2-16, dormitory floors, cafeteria

[It's begun.

England is sick.

He hasn't been watching the dates carefully -- there isn't much point to it -- but he knows the months, at least. Not that he'd need to count to know it's the beginning of July. He woke up with a dull ache permeating most of his vital muscles and a cold congesting his sinuses. Not to mention he was disturbed to consciousness in the middle of the night from a shockingly vivid nightmare of being abandoned in the rain, something that's not exactly normal fare when he sleeps.

He'll either be found in his own room, America's room, or the cafeteria, looking restless and downright miserable. Approach him with caution.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Annoyance indeed. He looks up when he hears the books topple, though his expression softens slightly as the individual is familiar.]

Don't be concerned. They've survived the fall of their civilization, I don't think a fall off of a table will do them much harm.

[He knows that voice -- one of many during that cloudy week after the labyrinth, and one of few that was actually grounded outside his body, not within it.

The island looks up to see the familiar face that goes with that voice. It's almost hard to pin it down, with how strange his vision had been.

His irritation gives way to weary resignation.] Still, they should be treated with care, regardless of their age. [He doesn't want to be the one responsible for destroying any of them.]

[He shifts, getting to his feet, picking up a few others that fell further away, holding them with as surprising gentleness.]

Of course. Books can outlive people or even worlds. In some cases, they're more worthy of such handling than people.

[What a very cynical and utilitarian view of things.] Well, they're certainly a lot more useful than most people you'll find. [Most.]

But, of course, if not for people, we wouldn't have the books in the first place.

Indeed. There are some who are quite engaging and pleasant and knowledgeable, but they are few and far between.

One must always consider the source. How remarkable, that no matter what the world, there is always a form of recorded literature. Truly a universal medium...

[England stops to examine the tome he has in his hand.] ...it's certainly a privilege when you do meet them, though. [He's met many brilliant thinkers in his time.

He manages a bit of a nostalgic smile, for the stories and histories that have survived countless trials. As for being a universal medium...] They're almost like music in that way, aren't they?

Of course... to discourse with such individuals is a rare privilege. What one come away with in those moments may very well change their entire outlook on that subject. I fervently hope to encounter more of their like in my life.

[A smile of his own. Someone who appreciates such things is always pleasing to speak with.] Music is magic, in its own way. It encompasses many media, incorporates many ideas, and is utterly representative of the culture that spawned it. The instruments, the base mathematics, the meaning, the sound... the pulse of life of a world.

Perhaps you'll encounter some of the type here. This tower is a hub of diversity, if nothing else.

[Equating music to magic is just about the best thing England has ever heard. So much so that he will actually say that.] That's brilliant. [He lets out a small chuckle and straightens to set the book back on the desk.] A microcosm of identity that needs little translation, hm?

06. what could death do if thou shouldst depart?

getting all our martinis on and shit

shaken, not stirred

one olive or two?

two, tonight's a celebration night

Re: two, tonight's a celebration night

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