towerofanimus

Characters: Spain, open to everyone~
Setting: Different floors~
Format: Action or prose; I'll just follow along.
Summary: More exploring, as usual. And a little confession.
Warnings: TBA

Floor Thirteen: Cathedral

This is something new. Spain wonders when did this appear, but decides not to dwell on it. Instead, she sits in a pew, clasping her hands together around her cross as her head bows low (inwardly she thinks she should have brought down her rosary). Her eyes are shut, but she's trying to hold back tears.

"Dios te salve, Maria. Llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo..."

-

Floor One: Cafeteria

Sighing when she reaches the cafeteria, Spain recalls the number of floors between her dorm and the cafeteria. Thirteen, the unlucky number, which ironically is the floor where the cathedral is.

Shaking her head, she mutters to herself, "Must have been a coincidence..." before helping herself to the food. Two small meat pies, salad and juice. She wasn't that hungry to begin with.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A short distance from where Spain sat in the cafeteria, Romano was poking at the remainder of his salad, forking a cherry tomato when he finally noticed her. He hadn't actually spoken a lot with the other nation since they'd arrived, and maybe it was because he was a little shy to.

After all, she wasn't his Spain. He hadn't known her all his life. That Spain he knew had vanished from the Tower-- a second time, and with him vanished what little hope Romano had. While he didn't know her well, a part of him wanted to reach out to her and cling to that little bit of familiarity she represented. It wouldn't be fair to her, he knew, but she was still Spain, and that alone was enough to make him feel less lonely.

Tentatively, he cleared his throat, swallowed his food, and called out to her. "Uh, hey..."

Spain looked up and saw Romano a few tables down, giving him a slight smile as she moved to sit beside him instead. She was still disappointed and upset over Romana, but it would seem unfair of the older nation to take it out on her charge's lookalike, even if they are essentially similar. And she wanted someone else to talk to.

"Hola, Romano," she replied, her voice soft. "Haven't seen you for a while..."

"Ciao. Well I was..." He didn't want to remember ruined Italy. Rome was a wasteland of death and wreckage, why would he want to think about that? "I was busy."

Her presence beside him was a welcomed one, but it made him nervous all the same. Awkwardly, he shifted in his seat. Now that he had her attention, he didn't know what to say, really.

"Busy, hm?" But she didn't press on; instead, she covered his hand with hers, squeezing it lightly. "Don't worry, querido. We will find a way out of here. Just... it's only a matter of when."

"Yeah." He nodded, but he wasn't sure he could be as optimistic, not yet. "I want to help find a way out. There are people making plans, even that bastard America. No, especially him. His plans are stupid, though."

"So the male America is pretty reckless, I assume?" That wasn't too far off from the America she knows, but she shouldn't put on assumptions on someone she hasn't met yet. "Even if his plans are stupid, as long as they help us get out, it wouldn't matter."

"He wants to use a time machine or something. Like we even have one of those." So much incredulity in his voice. "Though I guess if it works, I'll have to start being believing him more often, idiot or not."

"A... time machine."

Spain stared at him, then started giggling. "T-though, that is rather silly to think of..."

"It's the sort of thing you'd expect from an America, I think."

Her giggling was a little infectious, making him smile just a bit, though he'd probably argue that it was from mocking America that his sudden joy sprouted.

"It sure is."

Her giggles died down, and she started poking at her meat pie. "I hope we are able to escape. I want to see my home again."

"Hn."

Romano knew he shouldn't be, but he was enjoying the time he spent with his idiot Spain's better version. She was beautiful, thoughtful, maybe a bit mothering, but that was okay too. He liked being fussed over, as much as he'd flail to the contrary. And he wanted to see his home again too, to see his stupid brother making a mess in the kitchen, and to later share lunch with him before he left to visit that stupid potato of his. He missed the beach. He missed being relatively carefree. Hell, he even missed dealing with those stupid muffins occasionally. At least that was something he could do.

Here, what good was he? His status as a half nation meant little without his people. He was insignificant. But he wanted to help people, he wanted to help Spain get back to her home, even if that probably meant they'd never see each other again. They wouldn't, would they.

"Yeah." He smiled, but it was almost insincere. "We'll be able to escape. And then we'll both go home."

Tres

Cafeteriaaaa

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