towerofanimus | Le désespoir

Open to all!
Setting: Floor 13
Format: Either~
Summary: Francisca reflects on the blackout and sings a hymn... as goodbye to her world.
Warnings: Angst, potential language

The voices were still whispering in her ears, her memory of the blackout far too keen. Her body still felt weighed down and tired from that far-too-close encounter with the not-England.

But England's voice had been too real.

She'd been trying to believe that England was alive - that this whole Tower business was just an elaborate scheme conjured up by some idiots smoking too much of Pays-Bas' drugs. But... perhaps she was now too tired to even attempt feeling hope.

She'd been strong as Rome and Germania would have expected of her, but even the strongest of defenses would slowly fall under constant fire.

She'd normally avoided this kind of place - too melancholy, too 'holy' for her tastes - but it was an apt setting for what she was about to do.

She moved to the altar, hearing the sudden hush of unheard voices, and took a shuddering breath, staring up at one of the beautifully decorated windows before she haltingly began to sing Pie Jesu, voice pealing out heartbrokenly in the language she'd almost forgotten since her childhood. Her eyes close as hot tears threaten to spill as she continues to sing.

England would have called her a drama-whore for it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I suppose. I never really..." Canada laughed and shrugged, "I never really was one for big cathedrals."

"To each her own," France murmured, nodding her head. She then examined Canada quickly with her eyes and asked, "Were you... safe, during the blackout?" Even if her voice was subdued and unemotional, her eyes showed her concern.

Canada smiled at France and nodded while she pondered if France should be told of her activities. Her silence dragged on a little before she replied.

"I heard her in the halls. America and I. But we were alright. Were you? I hadn't seen you..."

"I heard her too... I had a close encounter, but Shoutarou helped so we both managed to escape relatively unscathed." She turned her gaze to the windows of the 'room', wondering if she should voice what she was dreading - that they had heard England's voice because she was dead.

"That male America helped me and Amelia out before we got too close. He warned us about the dead bodies and all that. He--...It can't really be her right? It was just a ghost thing..." Canada's hands are clenched in her lap and she looks around the cathedral, trying to find something to settle her eyes on.

".... Aren't ghosts the spirits of people who have died?"

Canada shook her head intently, "No she's not dead Maman. No."

France stayed silent and stared up at the altar, wondering what deity it was even dedicated to - so familiar yet so different from home. She didn't voice her fears of England's death to Canada - it wouldn't do to have the girl rattled so soon after experiencing the ghosts.

Canada sighed softly, not wanting to believe what France had been implying. It was no good to believe to everyone was dead. She'd just be upset and useless and that would help no one.

"She'll arrive I'm sure."

France forced a smile on her face and answered, "I'm sure she will, and when she does, she will undoubtedly take her broom to all of us for being irresponsible children."

"Undoubtedly...Really Maman, I am sure she will show up sometime. People arrive all the time."

Canada reached over and squeezed her hands, worried by this dim version of the France she was used to.

"Indeed, or we will just have to go to her!" she chirped, forced cheer almost to her normal level as she smiles and pets Canada, squeezing the girl's hands gently.

"Right." The forced cheeriness made her a little wary but what could she do. She simply smiled and shook her head.

"One day we'll get out of here."

"And as soon as we do, I am taking you and your sister underwear shopping, just to scandalise Anglettere~"

"I'm sure England has her own scandalizing things in her closet, she'll just never show you. Incidentally, this tower could have chosen more comfortable ones from my closet." She raised her eyebrow.

"Either way, wouldn't it be more scandalizing if you took her underwear shopping?"

"She'd react more if I took our former colonies - she still sees you both as little babies of course."

"...Despite all evidence to the contrary?" She shook her head and quirked a smile.

"At some point we all grow up, right? Some just more slowly than others."

"Well, you both grew substantial 'assets' compared to her~" Pokes a finger at the side of one of Canada's 'assets'.

"... Was that a comment on my maturity?"

Canada covered her chest reflexively and raised an eyebrow.

"I am not sure how that could be. It was a comment on how fast we grew up compared to her? Or any of Europe really. Even though America grew like a weed. Far faster than me."

"America is a special case, almost as fast as South Korea when she got her feet under her." She sighed and rested hand on her cheek. "No grace or finesses, just shoot up and catch up with the world, remain on top! It's no fun always being on top~"

"I suppose it wouldn't be? I've never quite known, though it seems as if the one at the top is never quite happy. Who wants to be worried about losing that spot all the time?"

Canada propped her chin on her hands, leaning forward on her hands and staring off into the distance.

"Being on top is thrilling, but you are right - you come to worry about when you will fall, because no one can stay in that position forever."

"I think I prefer the shadows for now. Forgotten is often easier than the spotlight, right?" Canada smiled and stretched her hands above her head.

"Maman is too much of an attention-seeker to live that way, I'm sorry ma belle~" she teased, tossing her hair. "I quite enjoy being on top frequently as well~" In and out of bed, go France.

"Ah yes...I forget sometimes." She is lying a bit there, "Is it nice? Or just the bothersome thing I imagine it is."

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