towerofanimus | (no subject)

Characters: England and all you ~~positively insufferable~~ wonderful people!
Setting: Floor Three
Format: Starting with prose/paragraph/whatever you want to call it, but I'll match.
Summary: Apparently the Shakespeare collections he brought with him aren't enough -- actually finding the library in this godawful place was a small blessing.
Warnings: Language, most likely, gosh England that's so improper (also mild suggestive themes, courtesy of him and fem!France)

The kingdom breathed a minor sigh as he turned the page, away from the inquiries of comedians and further into the tale of one 'Cesario'. A stack of books flanked each side of the open copy of Twelfth Night on the table; one stack for the books he had finished (currently, about three), and a stack for the ones that had not yet been opened.

Getting down to this floor had been a nightmare. England didn't mind stairs -- he was no lazy American, after all -- but this was just ludicrous. The place was a scientific disaster and a magical marvel. He was less disturbed by the physical impossibility than he was by the chance of hostile supernatural figures lingering about. It didn't take a mage adept to realize that a place like this could easily have them, just by looking at the way the tower defied physics and logic.

But at least he'd suffered no loss of limb nor any encounters with anyone he'd rather not meet with on the way down here. And, thus far, he'd had no significant disturbances.

Now all he needed to do was just stop thinking about the damn building and relax enough to enjoy what he was reading.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Luke wanted to probe for more information, because frankly this was a very interesting subject, but answering questions had precedence. "Y-yes, London. It's my home." He seemed to be quite homesick when he said that, but considering the tower was not exactly his homeland...

"But, what do you mean, your body is reliant on our country?" Yes, our. "If that is the case, and what they claim about our worlds being destroyed, then..." Luke left the sentence empty, as if the Tower staff would hear him and suddenly strike Kirkland dead to right the timestream.

England was a little perturbed when Luke reminded him of the situation, granted, but he didn't show it. "A country is many things," he went on. "Much more than only its physical landmass. A nation is a wonderful mixture of all kinds of parts -- geography, a history, a culture..."

He leaned over the table, resting his arms on it and lacing together his fingers on its surface to be closer to Luke's eye level. "...and people," he finished with a smile. Slowly, he brought up one of his hands, folding down all of his fingers save his pointer finger. "The home that you hold so dear..." And then he reached out, indicating the side of Luke's chest that hid the source of his pulse. "...is my heart."

A light chuckle followed that as he withdrew his hand. "And my heart is still beating."

At first, Luke felt silly- of course a country was more than a landmass, hadn't this come up before? -but stilled his tongue, and kept from making the quick and easy response.

However, his face grew much more serious when Kirkland- England? -brought people in to the equation. Luke watched in humble silence as the man made his point, and found his hand gripping the breast of his sweater. The depths of the conversation seemed to finally hit him.

Slowly, a grin spread over his features, and Luke nodded with determination. "You're right. Even if this isn't London, London can't ever leave me. Home never can." He would get to return there someday, he was sure of it. "Thank you...for trusting me enough to tell me about this. It's quite the relief."

It had honestly been a while since England had bothered to introduce himself to a human as what he actually was -- a human that wasn't a politician who was already in the know, anyways. He was glad that he had picked Luke to tell about it, though. Maybe if more of his citizens had ended up in the Tower, he would tell them too. "Of course," he replied amiably.

"And thank you, as well," the kingdom added sincerely, "for believing in me." In more ways than one, really. "It's also a great relief to me, I assure you." Hell, if even Prussia could carry on as he did, England was sure it would take a huge deal more than this to strike him down.

"Do you have any other questions for me, Luke?" He knew his existence was a bit of a curious thing (and he couldn't imagine the exponent of wonder that surely came with Luke's age), so he was willing to answer to whatever thoughts his citizen was having.

"It's the least I can do! After all, I love my country." Even if he...didn't exactly have any love for the Prime Minister.

Luke thought about questions and the like, but anything that came to mind seemed too...invasive, and Luke couldn't bring himself to invade the other's privacy like that. Likewise, he wasn't sure if it'd be appropriate to ask about other matters, so in the end, Luke just shook his head. "If I think of any other questions, I can simply ask you, right? You, won't be off put?"

The declaration drew a warm smile from England. In a world where people were just as likely to hate their country as they were to love it, it was awfully nice to hear the latter from someone from time to time.

"You may," he replied charitably. "I won't be off put at all." He honestly doubted that Luke would be able to come up with much that he wouldn't be willing to answer, even if the questions were a little unpleasant. Master of repression and all.