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

[Goddamnit he doesn't want to be waited on. He is perfectly capable of getting his own oatmeal.

England squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to make the world stop swirling so unpleasantly before he stands up from the table he's sitting at,] It's alright, I--

[--and then almost immediately has to grab the edge of the table because vertigo sends him swaying. Jun please make this man sit his arse down before he gives himself a concussion.]

--!

[Make this man sit his arse down he would, as he immediately flew to England's side and put his arms around his chest and shoulders to keep him stable.]

Maybe we have different definitions of "alright," but this isn't really what I would call it...

[And then he was going to caaaaarefully guide England towards the seat and make him sit down, it was lucky he was already leaning on a table so that made it easier!]

[what is going on what is touching him why is

oh it's jun

The world stops spinning so much a few seconds later, but he's been coaxed back into a sitting position already by the time it does. Blearily, England stares down at the table in front of him, half wondering how he came to be sitting again.

He then gives Jun a dry look.] I might have to concede that I'm not entirely all right.

[He can't resist a small chuckle at the remark.] I gathered as much.

Stay here-- I'll get something for you to eat, alright?

[Though Jun was gonna make sure the guy was actually stably sitting on the seat before going. Because he would not at all be surprised if he just fell off the seat in this state.]

[England's embarrassed to require help for such a basic thing, but he nonetheless sits dutifully in Jun's absence, if only because he's not fond of the idea of getting intimate with the Tower floor.

...he quickly finds himself slumped over the table with his arms folded underneath his head. The lack of light is comforting to his pounding head.]

[Unfortunately Jun can't turn off the lights, but he did return with some of the standard oatmeal from the kitchen. It was, probably the best choice seeing as he was a bit worried that anything else might make England throw up.

So, he set the bowl down in front of him and gave him a light tap on the shoulder to alert the man to his return.]

[five more minutes he doesn't want to get up yet

England lifts his head very slowly to eye the bowl. Yes. Just as planned. Oatmeal.]

Thank you.

[...still, he can't help but grimace.]

You must not have a very grand impression of me, considering my condition every time we've met thus far.

[young man you will get up and eat your breakfast and you will like it

While England was busy staring at his oatmeal though, Jun circled around to the other side of the table to sit down himself.]

Heh, that's alright; I've made worse impressions myself. And given where we are, it wouldn't be very fair to blame you for that.

06. what could death do if thou shouldst depart?

better than the kids these days

it's hard to resist the siren call of an unattended lawn though

i dunno i'm not big on lawns myself

but where else will the colorful gay blossoms grow

in a garden obviously

if a garden is in front of the house, is it a garden or a lawn

i think it depends on how big it is

is there some international standard for the size at which a garden is actually a lawn