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Post by Deleted on Dec 6, 2011 20:31:59 GMT -6
The cut on his arm was bleeding again. The event by which he received the large, jagged wound are unimportant but Lukas knew that he had the clean the damn thing before it became infected; then her would be in so much more trouble then he already was. Step by step he walked down deserted halls, casting a weary, cautious glance around every corner, at every door, and over his shoulder at periodic moments. Although he had managed to bandage the wound and wash it with water and supplies from a bathroom, blood still oozed from it and Lukas had to keep a firm hold pressed on top of it. This meaning, both of his hands were useless and his sword remained potentially dangerously within its sheath at his hip.
Which is why he had to hurry. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to clean it with, perhaps another bathroom had more supplies then the last one, but if push came to shove, he could always start a fire in one of the many hearths and cauterize the wound shut… he had done it before, too many times actually. Save for the new wound, Norway’s appearance and attire had drastically improved. No longer covered in blood, mud, and dirt, his clothes were freshly washed, after having stumbling upon a functioning laundry room, and Lukas had given in and had the quickest of showers. He could deny if he wanted to that he felt much better, fresher, and more alert now that he had resumed some of his composure though being dirty and bloodied as he was, did remind him of his Viking days.
This reminder was most probably the biggest factor as to why Lukas decided to risk shedding his clothes and lowering his guard in order to cleanse himself; he knew if her lost his grip on control and become a murderous berserker like he was when he was younger, he could end up hurting someone other than a monster… like his brother. That thought in itself almost caused Norway to fall to his knees and break, either into tears or sanity wise. He knew that the other countries saw him as indifferent and uncaring, and to a degree he was exactly that, but that didn’t mean he was a heartless brute.
Deciding that he had walked far enough, Norge stopped before a door. His stoic gaze tightened as he studied the grain of the wood but assuring himself that standing there in the open hall was far more dangerous, he removed his hand from his arm and drew his sword before reaching out with his other hand to clasp the doorknob. Frowning and drawing in a breath, he slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open, instantly falling back into a fighting stance.
After a few uneventful moments, Norway dared venture forward and gaze into the room. The lights were off but with the light spilling from the hall, Lukas could make out the outline of a large pool table. Silently moving forward, Norway held his sword at the ready, his back to the doorframe so his peripheral was on the hall as well, ad he ran his fingers on the interior wall until they discovered what he sought.
As he flicked on the light switch, his assumptions were confirmed as the aspects of the billiard room were revealed. With much hesitance, the Norwegian entered the room and closed the door behind him; slight annoyance rose when he saw that there was no lock. ‘I won’t be long…’ even as he thought it, he knew that he couldn’t predict that. His gaze slowly surveyed the room, taking into account the poker table, the portraits, and the bar…
Norway had nearly given up on the aspect that luck could survive in this place until his eyes fell upon the various half full, empty, and unopened bottles of liquor on the wall. But in this case he knew that he could consider this discovery like kissing lady luck’s cheek. Acting quickly, Lukas hurried over to the bar and went behind it. Placing his sword on the counter, he selected an unopened bottle of whiskey and pulled off the top.
Unwrapping the soiled bandage, he took a swig, somewhat savoring the slow burn down his throat as he swallowed the liquid, and quickly outstretched his wounded arm and poured the bronzed liquid over the cut. “Faen!” Squinting his eyes against the intense sting, Norway quickly indulged in another swig before cursing again. Now all he had to do was bandage the gash again and he could be on his way, though another kiss to the rim of the bottle brought more whiskey to his throat before he slammed the bottle down on the bar.
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Post by greece on Feb 10, 2012 14:01:30 GMT -6
He had been wandering for quite some time with almost no awareness of where he was going. The maze of hallways seemed to have sucked him in. He was most definitely lost and though that would have put anyone into a panic, Greece kept calm. So far, he had seen very few things to put him on edge. He had heard a lot of strange noises, some of which he had hid from in order to get a look at what seemed to be coming after him. However, each of those instances had ended with Heracles seeing nothing and no one. It was enough to make him think he was getting a little paranoid of the empty mansion. He had yet to see anyone for quite some time and was starting to get tired of the constant solitude. It wasn’t that he had any problem being alone usually, it was just that he would feel a lot better about his apparent paranoia if someone else was with him. Perhaps they would hear the strange noises also and he would then know they weren’t imaginary sounds. Heracles was so tired of wandering that he almost wished that old bastard was around so that at least he would have some kind of distraction to the eerie-ness of the mansion.
Both of his cats were missing again. They had both disappeared after he had hid from one of those creepy noises. Unlike Greece, they had gone off to hide forever. He was no coward like them though. He had only been hiding so he could get a look at whatever he was dealing with. So much for having his cats though. They weren’t very useful to him if they were gone. Not that they were much use when they were around anyway, but at least they provided companionship. He was getting very tired looking for them too. He was wary to check any of the doors, not sure he wanted to get into any fights with whatever would pop out at him. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could handle it…it was just too much work on his own. Heracles didn’t much like having to do a lot of work. However, he saw a light streaming from the crack beneath one of the doors. If the light was on that meant someone might be inside—or the light had just been left on. Either way, if there was light then he would immediately see whoever—or whatever—was inside and there would be no problems. Well, at least that’s what he wanted to believe.
Heracles slowly pushed open the door with one hand, the other behind him, settling on the weight of the Colt he always carried around. He peered inside before stepping into the room fully. Sweeping green eyes over the room, he quickly spotted the other nation at the bar—the sound of the man’s voice alerting him to his presence. Seeing as it was a person and not a thing Heracles allowed himself to relax marginally. His eyes swept the room again, taking note of the pool tables, part of him wondering if one of them would be more comfortable than sleeping on the floor. His gaze settled back on the other nation in the room again as he took a few steps further inside. He dropped his hand away from the gun, probably looking slightly ridiculous with his hoodie still pulled up, cat ears flopping a bit on his head. He pulled it off. Even from his place near the door, Heracles could see the wound. “…What happened to you?” Came the question.
[ ;; hope that's okay!]
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2012 12:08:56 GMT -6
Norway flinched at the sudden sound of the voice, the new interruption form his pain both a need and a surprise. His hand had instantly re-taken hold of his blade’s hilt for when he first shot his gaze upwards, all he saw was something humanoid with ears. He blinked once and quickly realized that while the thing did have ears, they were fake and the owner of the voice was in fact, Greece. Having never spent much time with the Mediterranean nation, but he respected him all the same, not for his financial issues, but for his ties to history and all of the Western world, Lukas released his grip upon his weapon and returned his eyes to his task at hand.
“Two words: big claws…. It’s a long story, Hellas”.
The words were curt, similar to his usal tone, though they were spoken through clenched teeth, as he dabbed at his wound with a cloth form beneath a counter. The piece of fabric would be sufficient to bind the wound, though now that Heracles was here, another pair of hands would speed up the process, issuing less pain. Still, that would require asking the foreign nation for help, and the Norwegian, being a self-proclaimed loner, that bit as his ego just a bit, but in this place, ego would kill you surely. Gritting his teeth, he set to ripping the cloth into strips, using his teeth, and with apiece still placed in his mouth, he looked back up at Greece and jerked his head to motion for him to come over.
"Help me with this, would you?” his words slightly slurred from the obstruction between his lips.
Removing the strip from his mouth and pressing a larger piece of clothe against the wound, slightly sprinkling it with more whiskey, Lukas kicked at the bar against the pain but didn’t say anything. Riding the burn, keeping his eyes focused on the grain of the bar, Norway decided to distract himself with idle conversation with Greece, a rare event in any situation.
“How have you been holding up in this place? You look…. Well from what I can see…”
~ Translation: Hallas- Greece
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Post by greece on Mar 14, 2012 18:29:27 GMT -6
Big claws, he said. Obviously his paranoia wasn’t unfound. Sure, he knew that this mansion wasn’t what any of them had expected upon first arrival, but Greece still wasn’t entirely sure what there was to expect even now. Aside from the brief glimpses of the strange entities that haunted the place, Heracles hadn’t really made contact with them. He tried to imagine what kind of thing could have attacked the other nation, his mind conjuring the sorts of monsters that were mentioned throughout his mythology.
He imagined a chimaera, but those were large and would probably do far more damage than the wound Norway had. Heracles tried to imagine something else, something smaller but couldn’t figure out what that would be. At the moment he supposed it didn’t matter anyway, just as Norway had made it quite clear that it was a ‘long story’. Paying it anymore attention was silly, even if Heracles did a lot of inane ponderings. Right now, though, the fact was, if he kept on with his day dreaming there was possibility that he could end up hurt much like the Norwegian. Greece wasn’t too fond of that thought.
Greece almost missed the motion of Norway beckoning him to come over. Even if he had, the words from the other man would have alerted him anyway. Within a few steps, Heracles closed the distance between them, coming to a stop next to the other. He looked over the wound dispassionately; green eyes looking from the bottle of liquor to Norway’s face and then back again. He knew from experience that it wasn’t easy to bandage a wound with one hand and so he did what he could to help with that. He remembered countless times alone throughout the years when he had been left wounded. Just because he was a nation didn’t mean he didn’t get hurt from time to time. It happened. Seeing someone else hurt didn’t even bother him anymore and sometimes he wondered if it still should.
Green eyes blinked at the question and he gave a noncommittal shrug. “Fine…I haven’t been attacked by anything.” Heracles frowned a bit. “I have heard things, though…” He had hid but hadn’t seen anything. There had been nothing to see. The only thing that had happened was that his cats had disappeared somewhere. “Oh…you haven’t seen a white or brown cat, have you?”
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Post by Deleted on Apr 26, 2012 10:42:18 GMT -6
Lukas only half-listened as Greece spoke, focusing instead that his arm was bandaged properly. His pirate costume was blood stained and his sleeve was in tatters. Still, he did glance at the nation aiding him. He hadn’t spent much, or rather any, time with the Greek nation, who was famous amongst them all as the son of Greece of Antiquity, and rumored to be the possible son of the Roma Empire… but those were simple rumors. Greece and Norway had grown up in quite different worlds…. Lukas hadn’t even heard of Greece until after the Roman Empire had fallen. These days, each of them had an embassy within the others’ capital but their relationship wasn’t extensive.
Heracles’ words did however reach Lukas’ ears and the Norwegian scoffed, his mouth deepening into a frown. The luck of others; Lukas had in his mindset that he might have seen all that this manor had to offer, while here was Greece saying that he had only heard a few noises. Should he tell him? Warn him if you will… Lukas knew he should and being a man of bluntness and straightforwardness, he inclined towards Greece and spoke, not minding the hardness in his even voice.
“Heard things? Consider yourself lucky, Hellas, for I assure you that within this house, are more things than just for hearing”. He would have gone on, except he registered the second part of Heracles’ words and found them to be the oddest inquiry. “Katter? Are you serious?” Rather than tell the Greek off or something even more hurtful, he simply sighed and said, “Nei…. I have not”.
He remained silent furthermore until his arm was finished, damn did it hurt. He took another swig form his bottle before putting it down for good. Once the alcohol’s effect wore off, the wound would bite with dragon fire, but he didn’t ant to risk any further intoxication. It was strange… at anytime of his national life, this much alcohol would never had effected him but he knew that within this place, their national strength counted for nothing and that they were nothing more than fragile humans. ‘I wonder if Hellas knows this? Probably not’.
Leaning against the counter and grasping the hilt of his sword, the Norwegian looked up at the Greek man and paused for a moment, trying to think of a way the ever-sleepy man could understand him. Thinking of nothing save for the blunt truth, Lukas rubbed the bridge of his nose weakly before saying, “Hellas… You must understand that within these walls, we are not… ourselves. This place saps from us our strength to the point where we are something like human. We can die in here and I am lucky that I escaped that creature with only this”. Norway wasn’t much for talking, and saying this made his mouth dry. He rather the boy hear the truth than die finding it out.
~~ Translation: Katter- cats Sorry for the lateness; this thread evaded my To Do List ^^u
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Post by greece on May 24, 2012 10:33:17 GMT -6
Greece nodded, somewhat absently, at Norway’s words. He had figured as much, especially after seeing Norway like this. He had been lucky; he had felt that quite earnestly. Each time he had heard some strange noise, or felt some unexplainable paranoia that something wasn’t right, he had ducked into a place to hide. He had tried to alleviate his fears by trying to see what it was that made him feel so…strangely, but he hadn’t spotted anything. It was as if he was seconds too late, or perhaps he just wasn’t trying hard enough. Heracles doubted such a reason was the cause of his ignorance. He had, at one point, followed one of the peculiar noises in the mansion but had come across nothing again. Greece was not a coward, and so he hated feeling as if he were one. He frowned a little, returning his complete attention on the bandage again—good thing he could do this with his eyes closed by now. His eyes looked back up to Norway’s face, humming softly when the man responded to his question. To anyone else it would have seemed inane, and from the tone of incredulity he was sure Norway felt it was. Greece didn’t care though. There weren’t many people who got on his nerves, after all, and since he had very little contact with Norway it was easy to ignore any irritation from the other nation.
Once finished, Heracles shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweater-turned-half-assed-costume. He had been thinking of dressing up as something a little more creative, but the idea would have taken far too much work on his part. He hadn’t been willing to do it. That had left him with this simple but otherwise usable sweater. Part of him wondered if it would get ruined eventually, especially with whatever was going on. Heracles wasn’t stupid. He knew something was off even if he hadn’t seen anything. Norway’s wounded arm had confirmed his suspicions. He knew for a fact that something bad could happen, he just wasn’t entirely certain how bad. At least not until Norway chose to enlighten him. Heracles considered the words for a moment, mulling them over in his head. Now there was an interesting predicament—or perhaps it was just another challenge like all the others before it. Perhaps it was a test that was put to them by the gods (or God but Heracles had never envisioned Him as the type to give tests). Whatever the case, Greece wasn’t fazed. They would overcome this obstacle and get out of this place as soon as possible—or die trying. Eleftheria I thanatos, Freedom or die…the easily remembered motto from the War of Independence came to the forefront of his mind.
“Mm…” Heracles hummed softly, frowning slightly. “I’m not afraid of dying.” He said finally, shrugging his shoulders. He had always been fascinated by the finite existence of humans and animals. They all had predestined end to their lives whereas the nations could exist so long as their people believed themselves to be a unified nationality. Heracles had always found it morbidly fascinating. The fascination had probably stemmed from his days under Ottoman rule, when his people were almost always in a state of unrest and frailty. He had been ready to disappear then, to not exist, to become another ghost like his mother and Rome. So many years had passed since then, but he could still remember the sentiment, and perhaps such a feeling would alleviate the paranoia that had taken hold of him before. “We must do what we have to…in order to survive or die trying.” Greece glanced around the room for a moment. “It’s not…that different from war. Someone is always fighting…a stronger enemy.” Turning his gaze back on Lukas, Heracles glanced at the bandage then to the other nations face. “What…are these things, hm?”
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Post by Deleted on Jun 3, 2012 12:12:58 GMT -6
Norway raised his brow in incredulous surprise at the Mediterranean nation. Was he serious? Greece simply had shrugged off the idea of dying, a country’s death. Countries only truly died out in the real world after being battered and beaten down by wars and once their peoples’ spirits have been broken, rendering the country annexed and nonexistent. In this place though, it seemed that a spear to the chest would b enough to end a life that had spanned hundreds if not thousands of years. There had been a couple times in Norway’s past that he recalled when he had become so weak that he had been close to disappearing, but he hadn’t and he was still there as was Greece…. But would the fool simply give in and give up if he met death in this place?
Frowning a bit, Lukas readjusted his position and slowly replaced his newly bandaged arm back into his ripped coat sleeve to sheath it so that it appeared good as new… save for the bloodstains. He didn’t know Greece, not really, and while he felt to reason of obligation to look after or instruct the other nation as he would to his own brother, Iceland, Norway sat upon a bar stool, looked the cat-hoodie wearing figure of Heracles and said in his calm, indifferent voice, “I understand your words and why you say them, but I would be more careful with your whims with death if I were you. As countries, death is s luxury that must be death politically and it usually extends over a period of years but….”
Lukas hesitated with his next few words, once more thinking as to why he should even be talking with Greece. The man had helped him with his arm; he should simply thank him and continue searching for the Nordics. Shaking his head, sighing and running his hair through his hair slightly, Lukas retrieved his sword and returned it to hi sheath before finally saying, “Takk for the bandage but you must be careful. You won’t be so calm as you are now once you actually see what roams through these halls…” Even as he said he, Lukas failed to suppress a shudder for while Greece had said he hadn’t seen anything as of yet, Norway had, and there was nothing calm about meeting a creature meant only to remain in nightmares.
Tired, weary, and slightly light-headed from the pain and liquor, Norway slid off of the bar stool and inclined his head slightly towards Greece. Uttering a short, “I truly wish you the best of luck”, before turning to leave the room, he wouldn’t mind if Greece wanted to join him but, personally, he felt like he had said enough to the nation to last a lifetime. Norway wasn’t good with conversations, least of all with younger countries that he barely knew.
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