13. o! that you were your self; but, love, you are [closed]

[keepscalm]

Characters: [OU] England (keepscalm) and [OU] France (silencetoreason)
Setting: Floor 14 (the media room), nighttime
Format: Action
Summary: Once, England had to trek a labyrinth like this while those he loved watched him be hunted. Now England is the spectator, and he's not very happy.
Warnings: Sad angry nations.

[England hasn't been able to stop watching the live feed of the labyrinth since he first discovered it. The only thing that tore him away during the daytime was his duty to America. But during the nights, after ensuring that America was safe in bed, England crept into the elevator to take the journey down, down, down to the fourteenth floor.

It was a fool's errand, for certain, but he couldn't stop watching. He couldn't abandon them.

He never entered the floor proper unless he was alone. At some point, he found a moment to himself, and staked his claim on one of the couches.

Now, he sits, watching like a man possessed for any screen that displays Zelda and Sealand.]

Comments

[silencetoreason]

[France has had an awful month. Of course, in the Tower, that's not saying much, but February has been exceptionally horrid. Being forced to serve human hearts and blood for dinner had completely killed what remained of his drive to make delicious food now that he had proper ingredients. As if that weren't enough, on the 14th, those awful stuffed bears had popped up. What was supposed to be a day of love and affection then became a grisly reminder of the time when, crouched and terrified in a bathroom, one of those things had ripped off his head.

And then came Ruana's newest game. At first, France was almost happy, albeit in a way that made him feel sick to his stomach with guilt. He hadn't been picked. He'd be left out of the game, and others would suffer instead - that's what he thought. And then he caught a glimpse of the monitors, and that temporary bit of joy came crashing down around him.

Almost every single person chosen as prey were people he knew and held dear. The ones he'd just recently met, Princess Zelda and Tetra and Wriggle; and the ones he was well-acquainted with, his precious saint Jeanne, tiny little Sealand. He flip-flopped between watching the screens intently and ignoring them altogether for the first bit of it.

But now, tonight, after another evening spent tossing and turning and fending off nightmares, he's had enough. He can't go on not knowing. He leaves his room in the dark, rapier strapped to his side, monsters be damned, and heads downstairs.

He's not expecting to see another person in the media room this late at night, but there someone is, huddled in front of one of the screens. It takes France's eyes a moment to adjust, but he'd recognize that screwed-up, bushy-browed face anywhere. Without a word and with hardly a sound, he glides over to where England is sitting and plops down next to him. The light from the screens will illuminate how awful he looks - hair mussed and tangled, dark rings under his eyes, skin pale and clammy - but he can't bring himself to care.

For now, he says nothing.]

[keepscalm]

[England tenses at the presence of something else on the floor; he's been in the Tower long enough to have honed that instinct. He always knows when he's no longer alone. He doesn't move just yet, save to quietly place his hand on the loaded crossbow next to him, so as not to draw its attention in the event that it's a monster. It's only once he hears it approach does England chance turning his head to look.

It's not a monster, though arguably, what England finds instead is much worse. He's struck by how absolutely horrendous France looks – and he remembers the defeat in the shoulders of the France from long ago, the desperate look in Francisca's eye as she regarded the lake on the eleventh floor.

Bile rises in his throat at the association. England turns his face away from France in his abrupt rush of anguish and disgust; the overwhelming emotion manifests on his countenance as a fold beneath his half-closed eyes, a deep crease in his weary brow, and a downward twist of his lips that's wholly characteristic of someone like him. Leave it to France to fall to pieces when things get too tough. England expected nothing less of him.

His fingers tense around the stock of his crossbow as he takes a deep breath into his lungs, as if filling himself with air will leave no more room for the anger he feels. As he exhales, though, it's clear that this isn't the case: words are carried on his sigh, words he obviously didn't think over before saying.] This isn't the first time.

[silencetoreason]

[France takes a moment to scrutinize the monitors, searching for any sign of those familiar to him. His face is screwed up in concentration, and he doesn't seem to process what England said at first, but a few seconds later, he turns his head and blinks at him.]

...Excusez-moi?

[keepscalm]

[Part of England regrets opening his big mouth. He knows that France couldn't give a precious two shits about any kind of pity party England could throw regarding the labyrinth, and he wouldn't want France's pity, anyway. But part of him, some ancient, warmongering part boiling deep in the pit of his stomach, wants France to know exactly what he went through, just because he won, damn it all.

He'll have to explain himself either way now that he's said something. He'll decide how much to tell as it plays out.] That tosser Jason ran a labyrinth experiment like this once.

[silencetoreason]

[France has heard buzzings of Jason's experiments. He's seen the way people's faces twist up when they mention him, heard the venom in their voices, but he has very little experience with the man himself. Still, his lips curl into a frown.]

Well. [He scoffs.] If Jason's labyrinth was anything like this Ruana's, I am sure it must have been truly reprehensible.

[He can't imagine that it could be any worse than this "game" right now, but he'll hear England out. He's heard only a scarce few actual details about the Tower before he arrived. In fact, he's made it a point to actively avoid the gruesome details when people relate tales to him, but he doesn't much feel like plugging his ears and willing it all away tonight.]

[keepscalm]

There were no "hunters" or "prey". We were all meant to kill each other until only one remained.

[England's use of "we" there is a bit ambiguous, but France knows England well. It's very much England against the world most of the time, and so he would not use "we" in a show of solidarity with the other residents of the Tower for something like this. England means to say that he was a participant in that particular labyrinth.

There's an undercurrent of raw disgust in his voice. It's slight, but it's noticeable. Some of those people he doesn't regret killing, but some people he respected had had to die for him to win, and others outside of the labyrinth – people he cared about – suffered just to ensure that he wasn't hurt.]

[silencetoreason]

[France, as expected, takes note of England's word choice. He flicks his eyes up and down, examining England's body language, his face. He squints, looking vaguely disgusted.]

That is awful.

[His voice is hushed. It's not meant to be a show of sympathy for England, and he trusts the other nation will know that. Rather, it's sympathy for the residents of the Tower as a whole, both ones he's never met and ones still around to talk about it, that colors his tone.]

Absolutely barbaric. [He turns back toward the monitors, and for a second, his face scrunches up like he's going to lose himself to tears.] Women and children--

[He tilts his head down, sucks in a shaky breath. Once again, he's eerily calm.]

They do not deserve to be in there.

[He says "they" with the same conviction that England had said "we," one that should clue England in as to just which woman and which child he's talking about. Jeanne is a saint, one who deserves to rest peacefully in Heaven right now, and Sealand is just a boy, hardly a micronation. His thoughts swarm with worry for them, and for Princess Zelda, for Wriggle and all the rest, clogging up his chest until it feels like his heart is going to burst.]

[keepscalm]

[England is far past having sympathy for France when it comes to most things, and he's thankful that the case seems to be the same for France when it comes to him. He doesn't need anyone feeling for his pain like that, but especially not France, who England would trust only to save that moment to lord over England later.

England's eyes are still locked on the screens. Women and children– England has met his fair share of both that are perfectly capable. It's not even that, though it certainly does lend to how despicable the whole thing is. It's the women and children that Ruana chose which has England's blood boiling. He lets go of the crossbow before he damages it or sets it off in his rage, opting instead to dig his nails into the cloth stretched over his knee.]

When Jason ran his experiment, Zelda broke in.

[There's a certain weight to this statement, a buzz in the air around it that indicates it's only just the beginning of a much bigger thought. Despite England's tense demeanour, the timbre of his voice is slightly different; it's softer. The words are almost an admittance. What part of this statement he feels strongly about isn't certain, but it's undeniable that he connects with this far more than he does with his participation in the experiment.]

[silencetoreason]

[For a few moments, France is most concerned with mulling over this information. Zelda, Princess Zelda, with her gorgeous face and gorgeous voice, doing something so reckless as to break into one of Jason's games? Of course, France knows she's brave and capable. He fought alongside her once. But that was against monsters (against England and America, he tries not to think), not, for all intents and purposes, against an administrator.

Once he's digested that bit of information, he can let the implication behind the words sink in. Slowly, slowly, he looks back over at England.]

Are you suggesting that we...?

[He lets the rest of the statement go unsaid. If he's right, then what is this? Some sense of duty, of obligation? A debt that needs to be repaid? Or perhaps his thoughts aren't on Zelda at all. It could be that she's the one who planted the idea in his head, and England now wants to follow her lead to retrieve Sealand.

No matter what England's motivation, the prospect makes France's head spin. He doesn't want to over-think it, so he keeps his eyes locked on England and tries to keep his thoughts under control as he waits for a response.]

[keepscalm]

[England isn't aware of the extent of France's connection to Zelda, but he's not thinking about that. What he does consider is Ruler. If there is one thing that England will respect about France's feelings, it's this; it's the one thing that all nations have in common, even when they are entirely at odds in many other regards. A nation will do whatever they believe is necessary to protect their people. And, here, these few people are all they really have left.

France deserves the opportunity to protect what is most precious to him. England understands that.

It's for this reason that England answers severely, with sharp, angry conviction in every syllable.]

It's not a suggestion. If you don't come, I'll go on my own.

[silencetoreason]

[The gravity of what England is considering is enormous. It's risky; it's potentially fatal. But, then... he's died before. He's sustained grievous injuries, caught the plague, taken gunshot wounds to the head, and that's all before even coming to the Tower. What's a little pain if it means he can protect those who are precious to him?]

...Heh.

[A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. The longer he thinks about it, the less frightened he is. Dying is a small price to pay for a chance to do something proactive for once, especially if he's bound to come back to life right afterward.]

Stubborn as always, Angleterre. But that is all right. You won't have to brave it alone.

[Beneath the certainty in his words, there's a tiny hint of teasing. The situation is dire, yes, and France hasn't been in the spirits to play around with anyone recently. But speaking of something so reckless with his age-old frienemy can work wonders on him. He's not thinking lightly of things at all, but if he doesn't jab at England at least once, the boy might think he's gone soft. He can't have that.]