09. is it for fear to wet a widow's eye

[keepscalm]

Characters: [OU] England (keepscalm), [OU] America (colonial), and you!
Setting: Infirmary. BACKDATED prompts to 4/13 and 4/14 (before the event start), and current-dated to today. Put your prompt in the subject line!
Format: Starting action will match etc etc
Summary: Something does not go quite right with America's collar check-up.
Warnings: Brainwashed baby nations.

scenario A♛ Infirmary: Daytime - violet collar check-up (open; backdated to 4/13)
[He'd gone in for his check-up already; England's only reason for his continuing presence amongst the other violet-collared residents in the infirmary was America, who was still in the examination room.

He waits, seated in one of the chairs outside of the exam room, looking pretty disgruntled about the whole thing, and only getting worse as others are called in for their check-ups and subsequently let go.

He grumbles it quietly to himself:] What's taking so long in there?

scenario B♛ Infirmary: Nighttime (open; backdated to 4/13)
[Something is wrong.

He bangs his fists desperately against the door to the exam room, but it shows no signs of opening one way or another.] America! America!

[No matter how much he shouts or throws himself against the door, though, there is no answer.

Say what you will to him, and he might calm down, but he's not going to leave for anything.]

scenario C♛ Infirmary: Anytime (open; backdated to 4/14)
[After tiring himself out the day previous, England had resigned himself to the wait and one of the uncomfortable chairs outside of the room. He sits with his hands folded in his lap and his legs crossed at the ankle. He looks like he's trying for all the world to keep sitting up straight and alert, but the way he keeps slumping back against the wall and closing his eyes is telling.

He hadn't really slept much yesterday.]

scenario D♛ Infirmary: Daytime (closed to colonial)
[He's exhausted, and there are bags under his eyes and visible fatigue in his body to prove it. He probably hasn't eaten much either.

But he still has not left his spot outside of the check-up room. America would either come out through this door or find him some other way.]

Comments

A

[godheals]

[While Raphael was finished with his checkup, he didn't leave the infirmary. After all, this was where he stayed most of the time so that he could fulfill his role and help people. The blond-haired man sitting outside of the exam room didn't look injured..when when he spoke, he sounded annoyed. Maybe..this was part of his role as well.]

I do not know..but are you waiting for someone there?

[keepscalm]

[England turned his head upon being addressed, perhaps a tad surprised that someone answered, but not entirely alarmed.]

I am. My...

[And then he hesitates. He's sure most of the Tower thinks that America is his son, but he can't reconcile that idea with reality; he's never considered himself America's father, especially not now. Colony is most accurate, though that would take explaining.

He decides he'll use America's term, though it's one that he'd denied when they first met.]

...little brother.

[Wow that was more complicated than England expected it to be.]

He's very young.

[godheals]

[Raphael nodded, still smiling calmly.]

I see. It is good that you and your brother were brought together here, even if he is young. If you want, I will keep an eye out for him, if you tell me what he looks like.

[keepscalm]

[His mouth twists into something not unlike a frown, but it speaks more of uncertainty than displeasure.] We weren't exactly—

[Oh rubbish there is no point trying to explain this it would take him all day.

England lets out a light sigh, returning his gaze to the examination room door.] About yay high— [he indicates America's height with both hands, showing that he is indeed rather small] —golden blonde hair, and the brightest blue eyes you've ever seen. He's got a little... [He then gestures vaguely to his hair, unsure of how to represent what he describes.] ...cowlick on the front of his head. Little bugger always sticks up.

[England you look ridiculous.]

[godheals]

[Well, it probably wouldn't take all day, but it would take a little while, since this was Raphael's first time meeting a nation. However, it might be England's first time meeting an Angel. Not that Raphael would know that.

Raphael nodded again, his smiling growing a little. England didn't look that ridiculous to the Angel.]

He sounds like a cute little brother. I shall keep an eye out for him and tell you if I see him.

[keepscalm]

[England settles down and laces his fingers together over his lap again.] Hopefully it won't be necessary. Maybe he's just... [He frowns and shifts uncomfortably.] ...giving them a hard time.

[Or that's what he's trying to convince himself of, anyway.]

[godheals]

He shouldn't be giving them too much trouble, for a small child. Don't worry..he should be coming out soon.

[keepscalm]

[He almost laughs at that. He might if he weren't feeling so anxious.]

He's not a normal child.

Giving people trouble is one of his talents, I daresay. [And one that just gets stronger with age.]

[godheals]

..How is he not normal then?

And even if that is one of his talents, he should be alright. The drones here do well with trouble, I think.

[keepscalm]

He could easily throw you or I across the room.

[And then, with a note of something near amusement:] With one hand.

[Of course, that's irrelevant if they somehow nullify his strength, as the drones seem to be capable of, but England is hoping maybe they just can't get ahold of America to do so.]

[godheals]

[..That..actually made Raphael's smile grow, even though he wasn't the type to chuckle. If he was though, he would be.]

That is quite impressive. I am not sure if he could toss an Angel across the room..but it is interesting that he is that strong.

[No, Raphael had never made any attempt to hide what he was. Why do you ask?]

C

[crouching_sin]

[Naoya heads into the infirmary, to pick up some pain medication... and he notices the man falling asleep in the chair. He turns to him, curious.]

What, exactly, are you waiting for?

[keepscalm]

[England stirs with a bit of a start, jolting straight and blinking blearily at the man who had addressed him. He takes a moment to parse the question before answering.]

...my little brother.

[He still sounds tired, but there's an almost creepy level of disconnect as he adds:] He never came out yesterday.

[crouching_sin]

[... Okay he can't bring himself to mock the guy for that.]

Strange... though, don't you think your brother would prefer that you take care of yourself?

D

[colonial]

[America's writhing skin--well, it's not skin, really--might be the first noticeable thing about him. He's tied his little flag of flesh around his neck so it serves as something of a cape, though if this is for practicality purposes or some vestige of his childish personality is impossible to tell. It doesn't matter anyway, there's nothing wrong.

He should get to patrolling, so he begins looking around the infirmary. A colony should help to look after things, after all. It hurts to move, with his body warped so dramatically, but it's easy enough to ignore in the interests of his duties.

His eyes sweep over England and dismiss him for the moment. Sitting in a chair isn't breaking any rules, after all.]

[keepscalm]

[As soon as the door begins to open, England is ramrod straight and alert. Finally. Finally. He's coming back out this way, he's not coming up from the elevator or some other impossible location in this stupidly illogical place, so maybe he's alright. Maybe he just...needed a new body, or they ran out of the collar fluid, or— something. Something normal.

England soon realises that none of this is the case when America emerges properly out of the room.

His eyes widen and his hand flies up to his face to cover his mouth, stifling his choked gasp. The feeling is much the same as October, when he had failed to gather enough candy, and America had come back wrong; the spikes of icy dread in his chest, the nausea in his gut.]

America—

[He slides down off the chair so that he's kneeling on the floor, closer to America's height. His arms are extended out halfway, his hands suspended awkwardly in the air as if to reach for America but unsure as to if he should.] God— America, can you hear me?

[colonial]

[America's gaze shifts to England again, when England addresses him. The little creatures that are his skin squirm and writhe anew, though America either doesn't notice or doesn't care.]

I can hear you. [There's a hollow quality to his voice; it certainly lacks his usual bounce and enthusiasm, and neither is there a teary, emotional display regarding the situation. He turns away from England, inadvertently giving the other country a good look at where America's actual skin has gotten to, continuing to check the infirmary over.]

[keepscalm]

[This isn't right.

England's arms fall limply to his sides. He doesn't understand. This America has never spoken to him that way. Hell, he's not even sure his America has spoken to him like that, and he's had much more time and opportunity to do so.

Clearly his body is not the only thing that has come back twisted.

For a certain degree of it, England's voice sounds almost hollow, too.] What did they do to you?

[colonial]

[There's a pause, while America considers, but it's not that long. It's more a matter of proper wording than anything. Only a pause in his speech, though; he continues walking about the room.]

They fixed me. I was broken.

[keepscalm]

[England's almost able to look offended, though his bearings are still a little too scattered to uphold it.] Broken?

[Saying that seems to breathe some measure of life back into him, and he stands, the restless anger that he's so familiar with now beginning to take root.] You weren't broken. There was nothing wrong with you.

[colonial]

[America glances at him again. There isn't much behind his eyes right now.] I wasn't functioning properly. I am now.

[keepscalm]

['Functioning'?]

What the hell is that supposed to mean? [It's out of his mouth before he can think better of it. He doesn't raise his voice, but it's certainly a much colder tone than he's ever used with America before.]

[colonial]

[America doesn't even blink; there's no surprise. There's no anything, really. It's the most apathetic sort of apathy, at least for now.]

I'm supposed to be taking care of this place. That's what I'm for.

[keepscalm]

No, it's not!

[The further this conversation moves, the less it seems like it's actually between him and America. His rage is to the point that his hands shake and his jaw aches from the tension, but it is not for his charge. The words America is feeding him are clearly part of a message much, much bigger than one tiny colony.

He turns on his heel to face the door to the examination room; half expecting it to be locked, he pulls it open with far more force than necessary. There's venom all ready to be screamed from his tongue, but the room is utterly normal and utterly empty of any potential recipient.

Damn it.

He turns his head to direct his question at America.] Where did they go?

[colonial]

[America, now at the exit to the infirmary, turns to look at England again. Had England been any slower, he would have started up the stairs and not heard the question.]

They left to attend to other tasks. I have to, too. I'm the Tower's colony, so it's my job.

[keepscalm]

The what?

[Oh hell no they did not just go there.

He catches sight of the bizarre patchwork of skin that hangs from America's neck again. Suddenly, the cross of red tissue woven onto it looks all too familiar. It's a pattern he vividly recalls seeing on fire in his mailbox earlier in the month.

His fist tightens around the handle of the door. He thinks it might be satisfying to break it off and clock the closest retrieval unit with it.]

I'm going with you.

[colonial]

[Another pause, as America considers what England says. It's not against the rules to follow along, probably.

Right now he doesn't think it is, anyway.]

As long as you stay out of trouble. [America leaves and begins heading up the staircase.]

[keepscalm]

[America is so lucky he's still tiny and cute (...sort of) and devoid of one revolution, because that makes England bristle like an angry cat.

He follows America up the stairs.]

I'll make a respectable attempt.

[By which he means no promises.]

[colonial]

[America continues in silence, as odd as silence is for him, apparently seeing no need to further speak at all. He checks every floor as he goes up, seeming tireless in a methodical, plodding sort of way--nothing like his usual energized self. If he's even aware England is still following him, America doesn't seem to take note of it.

Eventually they reach floor nine. America steps off the staircase.]

[keepscalm]

[England takes pause on floor nine. While this one isn't particularly dangerous, he's not entirely fond of it.]

Are you sure there are tasks to attend to here?

[He's still on the staircase, wholly distrusting of the creepy, narrow floor.]

[colonial]

I won't know if someone is misbehaving if I don't check. [America walks into the darkness.]

[keepscalm]

[England is silent as he watches America disappear into the darkness of the room.

Checking for misbehaving people.

His voice comes with a note of hesitation when he finally speaks again, raising his voice slightly to ensure that America can hear him, wherever he is.] ...what happens to them if they are?

[colonial]

I'll eliminate them. [He doesn't need to pause to consider his answer this time.]

[keepscalm]

...

[Yeah. That's what he was afraid of.

The unpleasant knot in his stomach tightens ever-further. This isn't his colony. It can't be.]

You know they just come back.

[colonial]

[America comes tumbling back--it seems whatever lurks in this room dragged him back out of it. He begins walking back up the staircase as if he hadn't just gotten dragged around by who-knows-what in the dark.]

It's a warning. Like a public hanging.

[keepscalm]

[England recoils a few steps in alarm when America comes rolling out of the room, and gives a suspicious look after him as he continues on his merry way.]

Hardly much of a warning when you can just as easily die by accident here.

[He doesn't know what the point of this conversation is, aside from maybe venting his bitterness.

Maybe he's hoping that some of it will actually get through to America.]

[colonial]

It doesn't matter, I just have to obey. [How much of America is there to get through to is pretty suspect at this point. America steps off onto floor ten, moving between the water of the aquarium without his usual awe and delight at this floor.]