ＥＮＧＬＡＮＤ♛ Arthur Kirkland (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
keepscalm) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-07-01 05:30 pm
keepscalm) wrote in towerofanimus2013-07-01 05:30 pm
12. when I do count the clock that tells the time
Characters: [OU] England (keepscalm), close CR, and anyone who came from England's network post!
Setting: Room 1-20 and various; put your scenario in the subject line!
Format: Starting action, though I will gladly match! c:
Summary: Zo has given England a gift, and he wants to share it with those who deserve to know.
Warnings: Lots of ugly nation feelings, potentially lots of other ugly feelings too.
scenario A♛ Room 1-20 (closed tocolonial)
[He wakes up with a thickness in his head that has stayed familiar, even despite all the other things that have changed since he arrived here. His nose is congested and there's a persistent tickle in his throat, despite the fact that there's nothing around to even get sick from.
July is finally upon him.
The glasses on the bedside table catch his attention before the notes. Trying not to disturb America with his shifting, he reaches over to grab the spectacles and the papers. He's touched by Zo's sincerity as he reads on; he hadn't expected a response, but he's glad that his gratitude was heard.
He's not sure about the glasses, though. Not that he particularly distrusts Zo, but England isn't certain how a pair of glasses is going to help anything. Still, he puts them on nonetheless.
Not much seems to change until he looks down at America. His stomach lurches unpleasantly at the sight of his tiny charge's soul within his body — not this, not again, he's tired of having this rubbed in his face — but something seems different, even with the gut reaction of rage and disgust at seeing America's soul.
When he tilts his head, leans in a bit closer, England can see that it isn't just one soul, as it has been every other time. It's— hundreds, thousands of souls, and then England realises: America's people.
His people, once upon a time.
They're all still there. America's soul is still— it's still America.
England sets a hand on America's shoulder and shakes him gently. His voice is urgent.] America— America, wake up.
[Maybe it's not real. Maybe it's just more of the glamour, and Zo has just given him an empty comfort. But England has never wanted more badly to see anything in his life.]
scenario B♛ Various (closed to close CR)
[He checks their dorm rooms first — Zelda is closest down from his, and then there's Link at the end, France is up a few floors — and if they're not there, he'll continue on to their usual haunts. The glasses are cradled protectively in his hands; he doesn't want to risk breaking them, and so despite being in a rush, does his best to avoid collisions with anyone.
When he finds one of the people he's looking for, he calls out their name. There's an excitement and urgency in his voice that's uncharacteristic of him even on a good day; it's downright surreal, given his emotional state during the past month.]
scenario C♛ Room 1-20 (open)
[He waits in his dormitory, seated on his bed with the glasses on the nightstand. The notes from Zo are tucked away in the drawer; they're a tad personal, and though England doesn't mind offering the comfort of the glasses, he doesn't really want to have to explain the details of his communication with Zo.
Of course, he can't be sure that these will offer anyone any comfort at all. But they at least deserve to see.]
keepscalm), close CR, and anyone who came from England's network post!Setting: Room 1-20 and various; put your scenario in the subject line!
Format: Starting action, though I will gladly match! c:
Summary: Zo has given England a gift, and he wants to share it with those who deserve to know.
Warnings: Lots of ugly nation feelings, potentially lots of other ugly feelings too.
scenario A♛ Room 1-20 (closed to
colonial)[He wakes up with a thickness in his head that has stayed familiar, even despite all the other things that have changed since he arrived here. His nose is congested and there's a persistent tickle in his throat, despite the fact that there's nothing around to even get sick from.
July is finally upon him.
The glasses on the bedside table catch his attention before the notes. Trying not to disturb America with his shifting, he reaches over to grab the spectacles and the papers. He's touched by Zo's sincerity as he reads on; he hadn't expected a response, but he's glad that his gratitude was heard.
He's not sure about the glasses, though. Not that he particularly distrusts Zo, but England isn't certain how a pair of glasses is going to help anything. Still, he puts them on nonetheless.
Not much seems to change until he looks down at America. His stomach lurches unpleasantly at the sight of his tiny charge's soul within his body — not this, not again, he's tired of having this rubbed in his face — but something seems different, even with the gut reaction of rage and disgust at seeing America's soul.
When he tilts his head, leans in a bit closer, England can see that it isn't just one soul, as it has been every other time. It's— hundreds, thousands of souls, and then England realises: America's people.
His people, once upon a time.
They're all still there. America's soul is still— it's still America.
England sets a hand on America's shoulder and shakes him gently. His voice is urgent.] America— America, wake up.
[Maybe it's not real. Maybe it's just more of the glamour, and Zo has just given him an empty comfort. But England has never wanted more badly to see anything in his life.]
scenario B♛ Various (closed to close CR)
[He checks their dorm rooms first — Zelda is closest down from his, and then there's Link at the end, France is up a few floors — and if they're not there, he'll continue on to their usual haunts. The glasses are cradled protectively in his hands; he doesn't want to risk breaking them, and so despite being in a rush, does his best to avoid collisions with anyone.
When he finds one of the people he's looking for, he calls out their name. There's an excitement and urgency in his voice that's uncharacteristic of him even on a good day; it's downright surreal, given his emotional state during the past month.]
scenario C♛ Room 1-20 (open)
[He waits in his dormitory, seated on his bed with the glasses on the nightstand. The notes from Zo are tucked away in the drawer; they're a tad personal, and though England doesn't mind offering the comfort of the glasses, he doesn't really want to have to explain the details of his communication with Zo.
Of course, he can't be sure that these will offer anyone any comfort at all. But they at least deserve to see.]
no subject
[If that's the case, he'll feel kind of bad for waking Zelda at such an early hour. But...he'd really like her to see. He can't hope to explain to her why June had such a profound and awful effect on him, because it's not something that words can adequately explain. There's nothing that can describe what it's like for a nation to lose their people.
But maybe if she sees what he really is, she'll understand.
England averts his eyes and chews at his lip.] ...I'd like you to put them on. And see what a nation's soul is really like.
—if you don't mind, that is. [He fumbles over the words; they lack confidence, and it's obvious that he isn't used to such expressions of sincerity. Of course, Zelda probably already knows that much by now.]
[1/2]
... But none of that really matters in the face of such rare sincerity. Oh, yes, she knows he's quite unused to those sort of statements, and it makes her smile with warmth and perhaps a bit of indulgence.]
All right.
[She says simply, taking the glasses from him and slipping the arms over her ears...]
[2/2]
That... definitely wasn't an issue during the glamour failure. Is this what he meant by what a nation's soul is really like?]
It's... bright, ah...
[Her voice is quieted by discomfort, as she fights the primal urge to avoid the pain looking through the glasses brings. Arthur wants her to see this, so she at least owes it to him to try. She never quite gets her hands to lower completely, but she manages to leave one squinted, blinking eye uncovered to look at the luminescence of the people of England.]
I see... movement, I think...?
[To say it's a bit difficult to tell would be an understatement.]
no subject
You— take them off, take them off! [His tone is urgent, but not ill-natured, the words driven by concern rather than ire.]
no subject
It's hard to say if it's shame, regret, or simple wariness that keeps her from looking back up, but regardless, she doesn't meet Arthur's eyes as she solemnly hands the gift back to him.]
I am sorry.
[He was so happy about it...]