New England ☆ America (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
colonial) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-19 07:47 pm
colonial) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-19 07:47 pm
Entry tags:
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Characters: America, open
Setting: floor thirty-two, post-event
Format: action
Summary: America doesn't handle the aftermath well.
Warnings: sad baby nation
[America wanted to believe he'd been having nightmares, which wasn't a rare occurrence in the Tower. He could almost believe it, almost force it to be true with the sheer will of his desire for it to be true. Childishly, he thought that just because he wanted things to be a certain way they would be, should be. America had huddled in the corner under his bed for hours just wishing.
Then, crawling out, he'd found the flag. It was folded far more neatly than America knew he'd ever be able to manage. Even folded up like this, though, he knew what it was. White and red and it had to be England's flag, it had to be, and America had spent the whole week--
America's wishes for nightmares shattered. He clutched the flag and he ran.
He wasn't sure how many stairs he'd run and stumbled and tumbled down--hundred or thousands, maybe. His knees were scraped up and he could hardly see for the crying, but he didn't stop until he reached the floating island of floor thirty-two, and even then it was only to leap over and run off into the woods, looking all the world like a terrified, vulnerable fawn who'd for the first time heard gunshots.
He tucks himself away under a large tree--nestled in between roots, he drapes the flag over his knees as best he can. It's bigger than he is, and he can't quite unfold it the entire way, but he's just getting it wet sobbing into it anyway, so it probably doesn't matter.]
I wa-want-- [He gulps in air. He wants England, but he can't--can't go find him, after that week.] I wanna go home!
Setting: floor thirty-two, post-event
Format: action
Summary: America doesn't handle the aftermath well.
Warnings: sad baby nation
[America wanted to believe he'd been having nightmares, which wasn't a rare occurrence in the Tower. He could almost believe it, almost force it to be true with the sheer will of his desire for it to be true. Childishly, he thought that just because he wanted things to be a certain way they would be, should be. America had huddled in the corner under his bed for hours just wishing.
Then, crawling out, he'd found the flag. It was folded far more neatly than America knew he'd ever be able to manage. Even folded up like this, though, he knew what it was. White and red and it had to be England's flag, it had to be, and America had spent the whole week--
America's wishes for nightmares shattered. He clutched the flag and he ran.
He wasn't sure how many stairs he'd run and stumbled and tumbled down--hundred or thousands, maybe. His knees were scraped up and he could hardly see for the crying, but he didn't stop until he reached the floating island of floor thirty-two, and even then it was only to leap over and run off into the woods, looking all the world like a terrified, vulnerable fawn who'd for the first time heard gunshots.
He tucks himself away under a large tree--nestled in between roots, he drapes the flag over his knees as best he can. It's bigger than he is, and he can't quite unfold it the entire way, but he's just getting it wet sobbing into it anyway, so it probably doesn't matter.]
I wa-want-- [He gulps in air. He wants England, but he can't--can't go find him, after that week.] I wanna go home!
no subject
W-wanna go home! Right now! I hate it here!
no subject
Hey. Crying won't solve anything, y'know.
[But even that attempt at shrugging it off with a simple scolding is half-hearted at best. She sighs, forcing herself to sound more confident than she feels.]
We're not gonna be trapped here forever, y'know. You've just gotta endure it for a little longer.