Among the Dust and Tattered Books [Veneziano]

[Turkey]

Sadiq ran his fingers gently over the books in front of him. There was dust everywhere, trails being left behind that was easily seen. He had come into the library on a whim thinking that maybe, somehow, it would hold information that would help in the long run. His feet treaded lightly over the old wooden floors as he read each book title, or tried to at least. Some of the titles were so worn off he couldn’t read more than a few words on some of them. He wondered how long he had been in the house, but there was no way to tell for sure; long enough anyway. With a shake of his head, his eyes focused on one book in particular. The word Manor was clear enough to read, and it was written in a script cursive that seemed like it would hold clues. It actually looked more like a diary someone had written and stuck in the library so future generations would be able to use it to find out what when on in the house when everything started going bad.

Gently he picked up the book in both hands and brushed his hand over it gently before opening it. As the front cover turned, it started breaking apart in and turning to dust in his hands. With a sigh, he brushed the crumbs from his hands and sat down in one of the chairs. Sadiq sat down heavily in the chair and it groaned under his weight due to its age, it wasn’t use to carrying any weight anymore. A cloud of dust surrounded him and he sneezed. Watching it settle down around him, he knew he had to focus. The music in his head was still playing, but he had found that if he could keep his focus, he could control the music in his head. Right now it was dull, as if it was a few rooms away he could easily think. He needed to find someone else and maybe work with them and hopefully avoid any monsters that had a habit of showing up when least expected.

“Wonder who I can find first, we should really be staying in groups of two, safer that way.”

[Italia Veneziano]

With a quiet grunt and straining limbs, Feliciano finally managed to shoulder the large double-doors open enough for him to squirm through, uncaring that he smeared even more dust over his already-dirty costume in the process as he pressed his back against the door until he felt the deadbolt click into place. He'd heard the skirchings of claws in the hallways of the Manor whilst wandering around, and he needed a place to hide until the mystery monsters left and it was momentarily safe to continue on. Besides, he thought to himself as he looked up from the floor to the large, open room stuffed to the brim with books, this would be a reasonable to think that Ludwig might be here. Well, it was a bit of wishful thinking for it to be Ludwig, but he could imagine several of his more tactical friends scouring the shelves for any source of information they could use against the denizens of this Manor.
The Italian thought that hoping for that opportunity was stupid though, to be honest. As if this hellish place would leave any information available that would be useful in escape or defeating the creatures. He could only imagine that any books not originally in this library when the large home became what it is now would simply be filled with words meant to despair the prisoners.

But enough of those thoughts. Even if there wasn't anything too useful to be found here information-wise, Feliciano knew he should check to make sure there wasn't anything dangerous skulking the bookshelves. Or maybe find someone else who was looking for shelter. "Veee, I wish Luddi was here, or anyone, really..." he mumbled to himself, shifting his ornate mask a little better on his nose as his right hand slipped into his shirt and pulled out his Beretta 96A1 from its side-holster tucked under his left arm. "A little conversation and backup would be nice right now..." Looking calm, though a bit resigned, as he turned off the safety and pulls back on the slide, cocking it. With that said and done, gun held ready near mid-torso height, he began to pad around the library, keeping his steps as quiet as he could manage. Not that he wasn't sticking out like a sore thumb with his vibrant gold and red costume, with its glimmers of costume jewelry and metallic shimmer, but he didn't care too much about staying hidden. He wanted to stay alert, catch any sounds that shouldn't be in a silent, unoccupied library.
Like the sounds of something vocalizing itself, though he couldn't tell what was being said from his position. ...Did he dare call out, attract attention to himself? Or should he be sneaking up behind the new presence and take it by surprise?

"...Who's there?" He called out, slowly making his way to the voice. "Show yourself, ve! I have a weapon and if you're one of the nations I don't want to accidentally hurt you!"

[Turkey]

Hearing the door groaning on its hinges that called out for oil, Sadiq startled out of his deeps thoughts and out of the chair. It sounded like the groaning of the dying souls echoing through time and space, calling for absolution and for help to be released from their unnatural prison. It sent a cold chill up his spine that made muscles shiver in response. Each step he took brought him closer to the first set of bookcases that were placed between him and the door that had just opened. Oh how Sadiq wished he had taken the time to explore a bit more and try to lean more of the layout of the shelves before he started looking at the books, it would have been the smart thing to do in an unknown area. Carefully, he places his left hand on the bookcase and his right hand on the hilt of his sword, gripping it hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He could control his voice and everything else when it came to fear and emotions, but he had problems keeping them from his eyes and his grip on his sword. The mask took care of his eyes, but nothing could hide his knuckles here and now.

With another step towards the door, he knew he was an idiot, what sort of fool went towards an creaking door that had opened under unknown power in a place such as this, a place that was trying it’s harder to kill you and drag it out in such a torturous way as possible. Forcing his breath to be low and slow, as quite as it could be while still providing him with the oxygen he needed to survive, think and fight. He heard footsteps getting closer to him and he unsheathed his sword as silently as possible, but there was still that tale-tell ring that was always associated with the unsheathing of swords that anyone would recognize if heard it once before. Raising the sword to about neck of an average person, he was prepared to attack at a seconds notice. Hearing a voice he recognized, he sighed and lowered his sword to his side and grumbled under his breath.

“Goddamn Veneziano, you nearly ended up with a few feet of steel in your chest”

Sadiq growled out loud enough for the other Nation to hear. Of course it had to be him, the stupid pasta eating, white flag waving moron who seemed to know nothing about battle. A hint of memory tried to surface of when he had seen Veneziano rule on the battle field, but he shoved it down, now was not the time for a walk down memory lane. He hoped that he could get through this ordeal with Veneziano without wanting to strangle the annoying Nation himself…it would take the patience of a saint; which he was not known for by any stretch of the imagination.

“Get your ass over here so we can figure out what to do to get out of this hell hole without trying to kill each other.”

[Italia Veneziano]

It seems, considering his...company, making his presence known was the worse of his two ideas. After all, if the newly revealed Turkish man was going to make mean comments like: "Goddamn Veneziano, you nearly ended up with a few feet of steel in your chest,", it was certainly going to put any nation on edge, even one who was normally as oblivious as a sack of potatoes. ...not that he was ever as oblivious as a sack of potatoes, but some people liked to say that to him and he sometimes liked to use the comparison, since it was so silly. It was perhaps that same silliness, paired with a bit of indignant irritation that had Feliciano mockingly, but silently, repeating Sadiq's words at the dusty bookshelves around him, with his hands, or in one case his Beretta resting on his hips and his mask-and-feather-decorated head dramatically bopping side to side, acting completely over the top to best express his displeasure. Sure, it was exceedingly childish, but it was either this stupidity or popping out, per "orders", and properly enunciating exactly where Sadiq should be sticking those few feet of steel, or perhaps help the Turk "bite the bullet", as you could put it. Those were situations he did not want to deal with, thank you very much. Just dealing with Signore Masked Pissypants was bad enough, let along doing so after putting a bullet in him. Like Turkey had said, he didn't want to deal with a few feet of steel in his chest. That wasn't a pleasant thought, especially since even minor injuries like bruises and scrapes took much longer to heal than they used to. Who's to say if they would even be able to heal? Certainly this place would be able to do some magic to take a way the nations' healing abilities; How else would it be able to properly kill them if they could normally live through a bullet to the heart? ...Well, that cheerful thought certainly took away any incentive to shoot the Bossy Britches. Trying to explain to anyone else why exactly he had maybe not so accidentally murdered one of the other nations was just asking for trouble. ...Not to mention a headache.

...He was thinking too much, the small Italian realized as he rounded around the far corner of the bookshelf. Actually putting thought to how he would explain to people a situation like that? He needed to and thus gave himself a subtle shake of his head in order to dislodge those ponderings, feeling the graze of feathers against the back of his neck and his left temple. If simply thinking of being in the Turk's presence had him acting so... "out of character" to his normal, peace-loving self, then this encounter going to be so much fun, he couldn't help but mentally growl, not even pausing the uncharitable thoughts as he continued walking with a huff. "Sure, ve, let's talk like that, "get your goddamn ass over here"," Feliciano grumbled, fingers slipping from the trigger of his gun to turn the safety on again, in order to disengage the firing pin. "Because that's going to make me want to work with you. Honestly, he's just as bad as Lovi..." Of course, he kept his mumbling quiet enough to be muffled by the rustling of his costume and the click-clack of his hard-soled boots. The less than complimentary words were sure to piss Turkey off if he heard them, though if he could have caught even a whiff of the thoughts he'd been churning before... While the grudge Feliciano had harbored in the back of his mind would take much pleasure in pissing the tall brunette off--in fact would like to do much worse--the Italian wasn't going to show the other that he was getting to him. Nope, not at all. If he did that, the other would just pester him more and that would just end badly, back to those scenarios he was pondering just a few moments ago.

So, as soon as he popped out from behind the bookshelf, standing at Turkey's side, a bright smile crossed tan cheeks and a slim hand reached up to resettle his own mask upon the bridge of his nose. "Veeee, I'm sure the House is going to try a lot harder to kill us than we would trying get rid of each other~" He chirruped, making a show of slipping his semi-automatic back into its holster beneath his left arm. "So really, we have no problems on that battlefront, si?" Despite his sanguine words and dulcet voice, there was an evanescent challenge: Would Sadiq continue to act like a grumpy old sourpuss who couldn't even attempt to put the past behind them in the face of a horrid situation, or would he show some incentive in making this horrid, completely unwanted meeting a situation of serendipity?

[Turkey]

Of all the possible nations it could have been, why did it have to be Veneziano? He was a ridiculous nation, a cry baby and an idiot who couldn’t tell which way was up without having a map...assuming he could read one of those. A small part of his memory told him different, reminded him that Veneziano was a force to contend with when he wanted to be. He remembered back all those years ago during one of the battles with a young Veneziano. He couldn’t remember which battle this memory was from as there was too many to remember, but certain memories were burned into his brain, never to be forgotten. It was one of his humiliations, one that he wanted to forget, but knew he never would, it would haunt him to the day his own life came to an end, and perhaps longer. If he tried, Sadiq could see it still as if it had happened moments before, or even yesterday instead of a century ago.

The winds blew at the tattered flag of his ship as it hung in disgrace from the mast; holes littered the deck and the hall from the cannon shots. He looked around and saw his men injured or captured with no hope of escape. His eyes finally landed on the child in front of him. The child that had thrashed him so savagely it was hard to believe that he was now laying on the deck, helpless before him. The golden eyes were staring at him, unblinking as they seemed to look into his soul and find him unworthy in whatever he was measuring him off. This child…no, this Nation had just done with many others had failed to do, and at such a young age…no, not young, only young physically. North Italy, Veneziano, had just proven why he was one of the two grandsons of Rome. “This is my sea, know your place verme.” With a quick turn, those eyes the color of honey vanished from sight and he walked away, his own crew following behind.

Coming out of the memory Sadiq shook his head to rid himself of the left over traces that liked to cling to him long after the memory vanished. Focusing on the sounds of Feliciano’s shoes and the gently wisping of his costume, he grounded himself and sharpened his focus, he needed to have his full wits around Veneziano, for as stupid as he might seem, he could be dangerous and deadly when he wanted to be. Sadiq knew he needed to try to keep his ass behavior under control; knew that it had already shown up, but he often didn’t notice when he was an ass until after the words had already left his mouth and others had already reacted in their usual manner.

Seeing Veneziano finally appear from behind the bookshelf and fix his brightly colored mask, Sadiq huffed and rolled his eyes, still couldn’t believe that he hadn’t ditched the brightly colored feather mask yet, it had to be a hindrance on the others line of sight and had to cause problems for him. Watching the gun disappear back into its holster, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything special towards it. “Not that we haven’t tried to kill each other in the past, put some good effort into it if I remember right.” He looked up into the Italian’s face and nodded. “As much as I don’t like you, I’m not going to try to actively hurt you. Let’s just try and see what we can find in here and leave, the less I have to interact with you the better.”

[Italia Veneziano]

This was certainly going to be trying, Feliciano mentally huffed as he stared at Sadiq, looking unamused. He could see the judgmental glint in dark hazel eyes as they rolled with some self-righteousness that Feliciano felt was completely unjustified considering the other's penchant for masks. The only difference between his own and Sadiq's was that his was ornate, not just made to hide his face but to actually distract one from the idea of seeing his actual face. He could see perfectly fine; the feathers that were attached to the left side of his mask hovered along the side of his scalp, drifting over his ear and curl in order to keep entirely out of the way. Sure, he was dressed flashily, but the golds and jewel tones were still dark enough that he could pull his cloak over himself and hide in the shadows if he were quiet and still enough. Not that Sadiq had the right to judge anyway. Stupid judgmental bastard.

Again masking his faint irritation with a rueful smile, the small Italian raise an eyebrow slightly. "Si, though that was a different time and you were a bigger pain than you are now," he quipped, continuing his slow meander of a walk from the the bookshelf back over to the small sitting area he assumed Sadiq had been sitting. If they were going to plot, they may as well be comfortable as they did. "Obviously it's better for each of us to stay alive as long as we can than it is for us to try killing each other, ve. Strength of numbers, plus pooling experiences to figure out an escape from this raging inferno-- Ahaha, you think you can hurt me, Sadiq, ve?" The question was offered with a strong tone of disbelief, even a little scorn as he plopped down in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and propping his cheek on his left hand. "If I remember correctly you only ever laid a hand on me when you were too cowardly to attack me at my best; only sneaking in when I had better things to deal with than an upstart who thought he could tackle Europe and be one of the big boys~ <3 It's really too bad that you think avoiding me will make those facts go away~"

.......So much for hiding his irritation. Granted, smug needling and such wasn't exactly irritation, but they were certainly unnecessary. But the Turk was rubbing against him in all the wrong ways and Feliciano needed to see the other lose his cool first; needed to see that he could still get under his skin the way the other was subtly getting under his. Prove that he was the one with a better hold on his temper. It made no sense, especially when the two of them have been able to get along in past meetings and small run-ins despite the obvious fact discomforts of a war-torn history resting between them. ...He could only blame it on the Manor, but even then it could only be part of the reason. The need to fight warred with his love for peace, and if it were the Manor it wouldn't be such a conscious effort to keep the older brunette under control, or to keep his retorts as biting as he knew they would be. This had to be more than just the effect of an overbearing, sentient home with the powerful urge to commit mass murder.

Feliciano couldn't bring himself to care, though. He wanted to see Sadiq seething.

[Turkey]

This little Italian had him twitching and was getting on his nerves. It was usually only Netherlands that got on his nerves this much, or Romano, but somehow Veneziano had managed to do it. He knew that Veneziano would disagree with anything he said on the principle of the matter. Shaking his head, he was having trouble thinking, he was getting too antsy, too-something… he wanted to punch something, wanted to hurt someone. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Sadiq heard Veneziano’s comment and grined. “I was a bigger pain back then? Guess I’m not trying hard enough now. I will always be a pain in your side Veneziano, one you will never get rid of.”

He followed the Italian over to the sitting area he was in before he was so rudely disturbed and sat in the chair across from Veneziano. As much as he wanted to punch him right now, deep down he knew the other was right, they couldn’t hurt each other right now, and they needed each other to get out alive. As least between them they should have enough experience to formulate a decent plan that had a hope of working. Hearing the words that were basically a challenge to him, Sadiq grinned wide and leaned back in his seat, resting his elbow on the arm rest and his chin on his hand, propping himself up. “Ya know Feli, you really shouldn’t make comments like that, I could hurt you if I wanted to. I would hate to bruise that pretty face of yours.~” The saccharine tone fell from his lips in the taunting way that he was sure would make the other angry as well. And using the others nickname when he had not been told he could in that tone would make him mad. Hearing the rest of the statement, his face hardened again. “Don’t play innocent victim Veneziano, you know full well you did the same to me and others on many occasions.”

He knew that this taunting was just a small way to release the anger that his built up; he needed to find a way out of here and actually hit something before he attacked Veneziano. They had been getting along deciently before this and knew that if he hit the other, their sorta friendly relations would bottom out quickly. “I have never avoided you, and this little upstart as you so put it had all of Europe in fear of me.”

Sadiq curled his free hand into the cushion on the arm of the chair, trying to hold his irritation back. It had been years since had been this irritated at any other nation and he half wondered where this irritation came from. Could the manor affect them all that way? Manipulate their feelings and their actions…could it manipulate their actions? He had no idea… but he felt close to breaking, breaking like he hadn’t done in many years.

[Italia Veneziano]

At first, Feliciano sat there and watched the Turk take a seat across from him, lips still quirked up in the slightest of smirks, but as each of his comments was returned with one, the amusement drained from his face until he was one again left with only an uncharacteristic frown. Once the other had fallen silent, chin in hand and looking far too smug than he deserved, the Italian pushed himself to his feet. "You could never be a bigger thorn in my side, Sadiq. I just learned to ignore you; there are bigger things than your stupid, self-centered need for attention to deal with. Even you know that, ve." His words were quiet, but he was sure they would sting; they were a little undeserved, but the other's threat had struck a painful chord in him. He didn't want to deal with Sadik's pettiness, not when they had an entire Manor out for their blood.

Slowly, he stalked over until he was leaning over Sadik, resting his hands on the backrest of the chair on either side of the man's head. "You could bruise my face, si, but you wouldn't. I know you; Blood is more common with a run-in with you, and I highly doubt you would feel bad about it. "I'm going to end up with a few feet of steel in my chest?" Certainly not something that would end in a few bruises." His irritation, no, his anger was more than evident in his voice as he leaned in a little closer, until he was practically nose-to-nose with the man.

"Let's stop dancing around this, Sadik. If you have a problem, say it to my damn face, ve.

[Turkey]

“I’m glad to hear I made a lasting impression on you Feli~ciano. Just the fact that I was the biggest thorn in your side means I had gotten into your head.” He had said Feliciano’s name with a musical lilt to it, drawn it out, hopping it would bother the northern representative of Italy. He didn’t understand it, but he seemed to have slipped back into old behavior, felt the need to bother him, to poke and prod and just generally try to annoy him to get a response out of him. Having the others words finally sink in, the smile fell off his face. The slight good humor he had fled him as fast it had appeared. His irritation, which had been present before skyrocketed and he could feel the burning in his stomach, feel the burning anger trying to seep into the rest of his body, traveling hotly along his veins until it tried to consume him. “You think my actions were just a call for attention, just a way to be noticed? That I was only wanted recognition for something. If that’s all the hell I wanted I wouldn’t have tried so damn hard to put you back in your place you sniveling brat. Everyone wanted to rule the world-I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you, you could never understand the obsession, the need to conquer that boils in the blood, the addiction, the blood thirsty power that comes from taking over another nation.” Sadiq’s words were harsh and grating to his own ears, rough from the anger filling his throat, burning from inside.

He spoke all this as Feliciano had walked over to him and had rested his hands on either side of his head. If the circumstances were different and there were not heated words of anger flowing back and forth between them, any outsider could take the scene as an intimate moment with how close they were. Feliciano enhanced this parody of a lover’s moment by leaning closer until they were nose to nose, sharing the same breath as they breathed in and out, exchanging oxygen and carbon dioxide with each breath.

“Blood is more my style huh? That few feet of steel in your chest was because of the creatures of the manor sneaking around, attempting to kill us all. It’s hard not to adopt a shoot first and ask questions later type of attitude with all the crap going on here. But I do admit I do draw blood more often than I bruise my enemies. Make ‘em bleed and they lose energy faster, can’t think as well, leave then that much open to failure so I can triumph in the end.” A wide, slightly sadistic smile spread over his face as he thought about the past and all the old battles he had fought in. “Have you ever licked an enemy’s blood off your hand after a fight? The taste of victory is sweet. And as for my problem with you,”

Sadiq sighed and shrugged, lifting one hand to run a finger along the underside of Feliciano’s chin, barely light enough for the other to feel before grabbing his chin so they were forced to lock eyes. “It seems I have every problem with you and none at all. You have been irritating me beyond belief. All I want to do is to wipe that idiotic grin off your face and see you hurt; see you begging for me to stop. But what seems to be pissing me off more than you in general is I can’t figure out why. Why I’m so angry at you, why your voice alone is grating on my nerves, why I want to see you hurt, why I’m so damn angry.”

Releasing the others chin, he closed his eyes and started taking deep breaths. He had drawn his head back to lay on the back of the chair and was really trying to calm himself down. Each slow breath was meant to calm, meant to help him center himself and release the stress and the need to hurt. He only hopped it would work or he knew he would end up attacking the Northern Italian who he had worked so hard to make friends with before this all began.

[Italia Veneziano]

"......" Normally, when someone said his name in such a sing-song fashion, Feliciano responded in kind because it was all for cutesy fun, but instead his eyebrow twitched slightly and a frown tugged sharply down at the corners of his lips. He remembered that tone of voice; Recalled images of crimson robes, white masks and piercing hazel eyes, and that same sing-song voice calling, "Felicia~no, are you ready to be serious now, or do I get to play with you a little more~?" It was more than enough to make him bite his cheek until he tasted blood to keep from responding.
He didn't have to worry about saying anything anyway, for Sadik was speaking anyway. His ire calmed for the moment, for he could hear, practically feel the anger boiling in the air around them. And as he leaned close, he could see hazel eyes smoldering behind a landscape of dirtied white and he was sure his eyes matched that same intensity as his fingers clenched further against the creaking fabric of the chair. He let the man talk, knowing that what he had to say would have much more impact after the man was able to speak his worthless spiel about how his efforts in the past were worth more since blah blah blah. He'd stopped listening for a moment there. Only a few comments here and there leapt out at him for the first half of Sadik's angry tirade: "You could never understand the obsession, the need to conquer that boils in the blood, the addiction, the blood thirsty power that comes from taking over another nation."

The Italian's momentary digressions, though, were put to a very sharp halt as he felt something graze his skin, along the curve of his jaw. Despite the softness of the touch, the arguable tenderness, his flesh stung as if cut into with the edge of a blade, and he tried to jerk back with a start. He barely managed a flinch before large fingers wrapped around his chin with a bruising grip, digging into the bone with enough force to turn his head back until he was staring into Sadik's eyes once more, face full-force with the swirling maelstrom of rage, confusion, and sickly signs of insanity ravaging at the younger nation. It was an enlightening experience, to say the least, and when he was finally released he immediately backed away, rubbing his jaw and staring at the Turk with an inexplicable expression decorating his face.

For the moment, Feliciano was silent, simply watching the man claw at his composure in hopes of masking himself with it once again, an emotional mask to suppliment the white one adorning his face. "Si, Sadik, I rather think I am right about your overemotional outbursts and urge to 'conquer'," he mumbled at first, head canted to one side as the small brunette stared down at the Turk, eyes beginning to narrow. "Freshly run away and established as your own country, why else would you take down a dying Empire and make connections with one of the oldest representations left in Europe? Why else would you try to take over my lands if not for a call of attention, an attempt to prove that you're cabable of standing with the big boys nearly a thousand years your elder?" Thin, chapped lips lifted from their earlier frown into the weak beginnings of a smirk. "That is exactly it, mio amico, why else would you try to put me in my place but to gain attention from the rest of Europe, to prove that you're better than them? But you failed, did you not? You couldn't keep anyone under you for too long; even Mr. Heracles managed to rebel time and time again, and by who's help? Tell me that, Sadik."

The young Italian was letting his emotions get the best of him, that he knew. Already he had settled into the same ritualistic mindset he'd had all those centuries ago, when dealing with the masked nation. Indignation and ire bubbled up in his eyes, and where his fingers curved along his reddening skin they twitched for want of polished wood and waxed twine. "While I never fully overtook a nation, nor did I personally try, I know how it feels to want another's land, Sadik. If I didn't care for conquering nations, why would I try to take your colonies from you? Why did I enjoy having such a "strong Empire" such as yourself fallen at my feet with an arrow in his stomach?" He asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper as his head canted further to the side, like a bird curiously regarding an insect before it aimed to strike. "Why would I try so goddamn hard to send my brother to his knees before me, offering the lands that our Nonno left for him? Why did I not only encourage but assist Mongolia in his efforts to destroy Europe, in exchange for expanding and strengthening my trade by destroying my enemies for me? I understand perfectly, Sadik, make no mistake" There was added strength to his wicked grin now, as he continued to dig into Sadik with words, clawing at him verbally in rebuke for speaking so harshly to him in the first place, and for laying a hand on him. "What you never realized know is how stupid it is to do such yourself when you can use others to get what you want. My trades had Europe on its knees, the Reinassance had everyone conforming to my ideas of beauty! You may have had an Empire, but my influence has infected all of the Western World! Where is your strategical power when every day my accomplishments are the ones remembered, unthinkingly repeated over and over again? No one teaches the power of the Ottoman Empire but the world knows the influence of Italy, of my influence."

"Mi dispiace, mio amico, but your "exulted empire" is but a relic of history. My influence will last until the end of days."

Silence reigned for a few moments, as if in respect for the harsh statement just uttered. Then he ignored the urge to respond to Sadik's description of his need for drawing blood, it was all things that he already knew after all. "'Wipe away the idiotic grin from my face', si?" Feliciano repeated. "'Every problem but none at all'?" He couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "I think you're just drawing at straws; trying to blame me for shit that you can't control. But maybe you're just an angry person, anad you're finally figuring that out for yourself? Some people say that bad situations bring out the true personality in a person, it's nice to see that you're exactly how I remember you; hissing and spitting at my feet like a wild beast but with all the true strength of a goldfish." By now, his hand had slid from his chin down to his left side, fingers just peaking into the folds of his shirt and very ready to draw his weapon if Sadik came at him. Despite his words, and his apparent call for a fight, Feliciano was not eager for Sadik to try stabbing him in the gut. He couldn't survive it like he used to.

[Turkey]

Sadiq could see the rage boiling in his verbal sparring partner honey golden eyes and it made him happy in a sick way. To know that after all these years he could still get under the others skin enough to cause a reaction out of the happy-go-lucky Nation. That he was able to draw out the Feli that he hadn’t seen in decades, the part of Feliciano that rarely saw the light of day anymore…the part that was often forgotten. He had to be a sick and twisted individual to enjoy seeing this, to revel in being able to make Feliciano revert back to his less sophisticated behavior. His anger had a tint of pleasure to it to see all of this….he really was a sick and twisted individual.

He heard the creaking of the fabric by his ears and knew that he was under Feli’s skin if the other felt the need to dig his hand into the old, time-stained, centuries old cloth of the chair in order to do from what Sadiq knew he wanted to do. He could see it on Feli’s face, the urge to hit him, to get him to stop talking, to finally make him shut up once and for all and stop being the ever present thorn in his side that never seemed to leave. Sadiq knew that if they kept up how they were, the old wounds that they thought healed would be revealed to have only festered with the years.

Sadiq knew that forcing the Northern Italian to look into his eyes would let him see exactly what was going on inside his head, but he didn’t care. They had spent way to many years fighting and manipulating and playing with one another for Feliciano to not be able to read him like a book. He had no doubt about it that his every action, every movement, every word could be read and interpreted accurately by the older Nation. They knew each other too well for words to be misunderstood. Their meanings were always clear.

As Sadiq had let go of the others chin, he mock frowned when the other tore himself away as fast as he could. He was still angry, but this was just too good of a chance to mess with the other. With an obvious fake sigh, he looked at Feli. It might have been believable except for the small shine in his eye. It wasn’t good that he was figuring out how to work around his anger again, but then again, this whole thing was not good. “Aww, did Feli not like me touching him as I used to do all those years ago? That hurts my friend, to know you didn’t miss something which was once a part of your life. With just a touch I could make your body do things you wish it wouldn’t. Tell me, didn’t you enjoy those days?”

Hearing the others words about taking out empires and making connections made him grit his teeth and the fake frown turn into a real one. This little maggot thought he knew everything. How dare he make assumption without the full story. He looked out the window and clenched his hands in the material of the chair and mumbled out through gritting teeth. “ You can assume what you want about my actions, but leave the incident with Ancient Greece out of his. You have no idea what happened, and frankly, I’m not going to tell you. It’s none of your damn business. As for making alliances with the oldest in Europe, all you need to know is that it had a stragitical value. I did what I had to and so did you. And as for taking your lands, purely stragitical too, they would have given me a good…..” He narrowed his eyes at the other and processed the rest of the questions and information.

It seemed that Feli knew exactly what to say to make him hurt the most, whether or not he realized it. First the comment about Ancient Greece and then his colonies willingly leaving him alone, having the Nations under his control try to kill him in his sleep in order to get away from him. He remembered it all like it was yesterday. He kept his conquered lands from going into the dark ages, let them keep their own language and religions and only asked for small things in return. Slaves for one, loyalty to the Ottoman Empire, was that too much to ask for protecting them from others who wanted their land? They all left him alone. Shaking the lonely thoughts from his head, he listened to Feliciano.

“You think I’m stupid for not trusting anyone but myself? You can’t trust others to do your work for you. They’ll all let you down eventually. Allies turn their backs and betray you for gold. A simple misunderstanding can cause the worse problems among friends. I didn’t need-” his words trailed off as he was reminded yet again that his Old Empire had fallened. A part of him had died that day, even if he didn’t. He aged so much in such a short time. He closed his eyes and felt himself sink into the seat; just sitting there as he let the rest of Feliciano’s words wash over him. It was true, Feli did understand, understood a lot better than he did. He did try the ways Feliciano suggested, but he couldn’t keep up militarily speaking, couldn’t keep with all the advances that were happening. It was why his empire fell. And Feliciano was correct again. Nowhere but in his own country did anyone know of all the good the Ottoman Empire had done. All that was remembered was their cruel behavior and the janissaries, one of the most feared fighting groups ever…but that was all…..

He stayed quite as he was attacked again verbally, degraded and put down. So much for the high Turkish Pride. Even after all these years Feliciano was still the bastard he proved himself to be all those years ago. He still knew how to cut to the heart of the situation and then poke at it, poke at it to make it hurt and bleed. After a brief second of feeling like his anger was snuffed with the shame and embarrassment of having his once great empire being forgotten, it returned with the need to make the other hurt as much as he did. The flame of anger tried to consume him, spread through his veins and muscles and skin until he could feel every air movement against it. He slowly stood up and walked a few paces towards the other.

“Its nice to know how you finally feel about me? Feel better to get that off your chest? All that hate must have been quite the burden to carry around for all these years. I’m sure you must have rejoiced when the Ottoman Empire fell, hoping I would die with it so a new nation could take my place. A new Nation that would be less of a thorn in your pasta loving side than I was. But tell me Feli, without bothering you as much as I did, you wouldn’t be half the Nation you were now, most of Europe would be different. That is a fact you can’t deny.” He stopped a few paces away from the smaller Italian and looked down at him with a wide smirk on his face. “I know you want to, I can see it in your face. All the pent up energy waiting to be released. Hit me Feli. Hit me and lower yourself to my violent level, you’ll feel so much better.”

[Italia Veneziano]

"Aw, did Feli not like me touching him as I used to do all those years ago? That hurts my friend, to know you didn't miss something which was once a part of your life. With just a touch I could make your body do things you wish it wouldn't. Tell me, didn't you enjoy those days?"

Feliciano froze, immediately struck numb by those words. Blood quickly drained from his face, and amber eyes widened in both shock and disbelief. His mind recoiled, attempting to flee the sudden influx of memories that left his hands trembling and his eyes alight with the first dredges of horror. With his ears flooded with the sounds of things he'd rather forget, he missed many of the younger nation's words. He only stared, stared hard at Sadik and looking split between so many emotions it was impossible to keep track of the flitting feelings dancing around his face.

Spots danced a little before his eyes, prompting him to finally take a deep breath and unfreeze. But still he didn't say a word, for he was a bit lost in the other's less than cheerful response. Attempting to push away the other's first comment, as well as the memories resurfacing in response to it, he slowly stepped back, away from the approaching brunette, until he was leaning against the closest bookshelf. The other brunette was stepping towards him, rage flickering almost visibly around the ex-Empire in a call-out to the "vibes" that Alfred used to speak of back in the seventies, and Feliciano swallowed thickly. Any of his own anger had immediately fled after the other's pointed barb at a part of their past he thought they both tried to forget. There were still residual burns flowing through his veins, trying to spur him on into doing as he was told and sending his fist into that damn smirk, but it wasn't strong enough to do more than bring a frown to his lips once more. "...A new nation would have made it more difficult to deal with your country, Sadik," he whispered, subtly crossing his arms over his chest in a pseudo-hug. "Because it would be a nation I've never encountered before, speaking with the memories and mindset of a man I've known for the last thousand years of my life. I rejoiced your end centuries before you were officially renamed as the "Republic of Turkey", when you stopped with your mad conquest for power and focused on running your lands." However the older man wanted to take that would be his own business, Feliciano wouldn't correct him. But the Italian refused to react to the rest of the other man's words, simply stared up into his eyes and waited. The fact that his right hand was wrapped around the grip of his Beretta was not a fact to be outwardly stated anyway. "If I were going to hit you, I would have already."

[Turkey]

Sadiq watched Feliciano back away from him with a look of horror on his face as it turned ashen. Ashen wasn’t even the right word as ash was gray, the shade that Feliciano seemed to turn was pale, paler than pale. The color didn’t look right on Feli, even Sadiq knew that. Part of his anger died and was replaced by curiosity. Why did Feli’s coloring change, why the look of horror on his face. He saw him cross his arms as if in a defiant gesture, but something was wrong with it. Feli being defiant was differet than this… it was almost as if… Walking slowly, he stepped the few feet in-between where he was to the bookshelf Feli was trying to merge with. Carefully, he lifted up Feliciano’s chin to where he was looking the other in the eyes. The emotions there rang a bell with him, memory flooded back of a similar situation a few centuries ago. Fear, worry, anger, all were present in those golden eyes that always capture everyone who saw them.

“You’ll come to like my touch, you’ll experience it often enough to react at even the thought of it.” Past memory rang in his head, similar words uttered then and now affected them both more than one would think. He had sounded like Ottoman again, sounded like the man he had sworn to never be again. Feli was right, was right all along. He suddenly heard the words Feli had uttered a few minutes ago ringing in his ears, ringing truer than anything had even had before. “Some people say that bad situations bring out the true personality in a person, it's nice to see that you're exactly how I remember you; hissing and spitting at my feet like a wild beast but with all the true strength of a goldfish."

It was true, Feli was right, he was reacting the same as he had back when he was Ottoman. His reactions were based on anger, he was advancing against someone who had really caused him no harm. He had willingly brought up their shared past to hurt Feliciano in the worst way he knew how, the same past they had come to a silent agreement on to never mentioned. He, who had taken pride on having changed since the fall of his empire, had not changed at all. He still let his anger rule him, let it dictate how he acted. Slowly Sadiq backed away from Feli, his own face paling. How far away was he from fully returning to Ottoman behavior? How far was he from actually trying to reduce Feli to their relationship from years past? Feli was right, was right all along. He was the same. He no longer felt angry, he didn’t feel anything. He just was and his emotional state was blank. He felt empty.

Hearing the words as they left Feli’s lips, he shook his head and sat down when he felt his legs bump into something that just happened to be the seat he had abandoned earlier. He broke his gaze with Feliciano and stared out the window that only revealed a clouded sky void of sunlight. “Your right and I’m a damn fool. I haven’t changed. I’m still the same angry bastard I was then. Hell, II would have preferred t if you hit me. I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I’m sorry….Shit.

[Italia Veneziano]

Despite his own words, and the subtle hope that Sadik would take them as the weak peace-offering they were and back off, Feliciano couldn't bring himself to be surprised, or disappointed, as the taller nation continued his trek closer. It didn't stop him from trying to back away, though, regardless of the fact he already pressed himself against the side of a bookshelf. He couldn't help his flinch as large fingers once again wrapping around his chin and tugging his gaze up to meet hazel eyes, but he didn't fight the touch. There was no harm in it now, and if he tried to fight away who knows what kind of reaction he'd earn. For now, he stayed impassively silent, tightening his grasp around the grip of his weapon. One wrong move, and he would put a bullet in the younger nation, that he knew for certain. Feliciano had never had a weapon on him when they "met" for their thankfully few 'rendezvous', but now was different.

But sitting here, watching the older nation watch him, Feliciano saw that whatever madness had possessed them both finally left Sadik. He was no longer being regarded with anger or malice, mostly curiosity and something he couldn't quite read. The grip on his chin was no longer bruising, though it wasn't soft enough to be considered "gentle". It was simply enough to keep him from immediately wrenching his face away. And as recognition dawned behind a white mask, the young Italian felt a slight sigh of relief escape him. Amber eyes slipping closed for a moment and slim fingers relaxed their grip on the sleek Beretta tucked away in his clothes. "...Ve, I was lying, before, Sadik. Hard situations, they don't truly bring out the "real" personality of a person," The small brunette replied, sliding down to sit on the floor, still wrapped around himself in a protective, comforting hug. "Some people might think that, but the real sayings usually say that they either bring out the best in a person, or the worst. I wasn't acting any better than you, so if I hit you...you have to hit me back, ve." When he opened his eyes and stared at Sadik, he offered a weak, slightly sardonic grin.

Of course, Sadik didn't seem to be too much attention to what he was saying. The man was pale, though only noticeable because when such dark olive skin was set to such startling white, any change in skin-color became easy to spot. And he was staring out the window. With a slight shake of his head, ruffling the black feathers still attached to his face, Feliciano pushed himself to his feet and walked over. "Veeeee, look at me, Sadik," he huffed, face twisting up into a more characteristic pout as he leaned over the taller man. "I'm still upset about you bringing that up again--really upset, actually--but I also understand that this place knows how to get to people, ve. Bad situations do not always breed camaraderie, at least not initially. I was reacting just as badly, and I'm sorry too. But if you really want me to hit you, then hold still." Without waiting for an answer, the small Italian reached out and plucked a white mask from a pale face, staring down at the Turkish nation's full face. Then he lifted his free hand and smartly flicked Sadik on the forehead, hitting with a small, satisfying thunk that probably stung if the little red welt rapidly growing on the man's skin was anything to go by. Of course, it would go away soon, and no one would see it, Feliciano told himself as he placed the mask right back where it came from.

"There, ve. Now stop being all sad and help me figure out what we should do before I hit you for real."

[Turkey]

Staring out the window, Sadiq could still see the fear that he had instilled in Veneziano just now, see the terror in his face at being reminded of the certain incidents in their shared past. He hated himself for bringing it up again. The fact that he had slipped back into that behavior so easily frightened him…it frightened him that he couldn’t even pinpoint exactly when it had happened…one second they were trading barbs, then he was backing the Italian up against the bookshelf with every intention to remind him exactly why ...he shook his head to get rid of that thought. He hated the fact he had drawn that reaction out of Veneziano, but he had enjoyed it, enjoyed it a lot. The fear, the anger, and the surge of power he had felt at still being able to reduce someone to that level…he hadn’t changed, not one bit. Before all this had happened, before the manor, he could have sworn he would never act like that again. Turns out he was wrong. If he was wrong about this, what else about himself was he wrong about? His ears picked up Veneziano’s voice, could still hear the slight tremble in it, and that alone was like a slap to him. He wanted to hide from the older Nation, didn’t feel like he even deserved to be in his presence.

“It don’t matter if ya lied or not, you were still right, an it did bring aut the worst in me.”

Blinking in surprise when he heard Veneziano tell him to look at him, Sadiq looked over with one eye, almost afraid to see his reaction. Was he still in fear, still trembling uncontrollably like a leaf in a hard wind, barely hanging on to the branch? It seemed he wasn’t as the voice was firm and Veneziano looked in control of himself again. He was partily glad to see that one of them had control of themselves; he currently felt like a yo-yo. First he was up, high on his power kick and the need to make Feliciano hurt again and now he was down low with the realization of what he had done… he couldn’t blame this all on the manor as he usually had a low when he ended up showing his old tendencies again. But he could blame the manor on enhancing the reactions; blame it for making his shame hurt worse than it had ever hurt before. This clawed at him; degraded him for making Veneziano afraid of him again. He hated when people feared him. He had improved so much. Had made friends and this one moment threatened to ruin his friendship with Venezinao. Sighing, he realized that he had never felt quite this low before with it. “Just say I’m an ass and a bastard for bringing that up again and hurting you, we both know it.”

He had slightly tuned out what Veneziano was saying, so he was taken by surprise when he felt his mask disappear. He didn’t have time to react to it before he felt a hard flick to his forehead and an involuntarily yelp left his lips as the mask was placed back on his face. Reaching up, he took his mask back off and gently poked the area when he was flicked. A stream of Turkish cusswords left his mouth as he looked at Veneziano with his lips pursed and a frown on his face. “Hit hard enough there? Ow…..” He shrugged as he rubbed his forehead gently. “I’m not sad, and how do you suggest we go about finding out about the house? Last book I tried to look at crumpled apart as soon as I tried to open it.”

[Italia Veneziano]

"Oh, don't be such a bambino, Sadik," Feliciano teased, finally looking a little more like his usual self as he smiled down at the tall nation. "I've hit you harder--you've probably hit yourself harder accidentally running into something," With that said, he simply shook his head and stepped back, amber gaze sliding around the large, eerily silent room. "When someone is upset with what they have done, it's being sad, Sadik. And while remorse is a redeeming quality, I don't want you to be sad for what the Manor forces us to feel, ve." The Italian, despite his calm words, stared about the room with fiery eyes, shining as molten amber. His anger, despite the earlier terror instilled by Sadik and his reminder of past times, had not been put out. Instead, it had first hidden in the chills of fear, and now burned for the Manor and its trials they were forced to endure.

"There are more ways to learn than from a simple book--I doubt that the Manor would leave anything here for us to find that could discuss it anyway, other than how it came to be." His gaze turned back to the younger nation, forcibly softened with the hints of a weary smile. "Besides...I simply wished to know if you had any information about my brother, or Ludwig, Gilbert, and any of the others. And to say...despite the rough beginning, that we should try to stick together. Safety of numbers...safety of having someone to watch your back, so that we can try to band everyone together, and then escape. Unless...Sadik has a better idea--That is all I can think of, ve."

He wasn't in the mood to turn back to his normal self--and it would take a long, long time for him to do so. But, that did not mean he should allow himself to fall to worse times, worse thoughts. Feliciano knew now was the time to keep focused on his main goals, and that is what he planned to do. This place swayed moods, forced minds to dark thoughts, but if there was another, someone to keep focus on and in turn keep his mind steady, then the Italian would be fine. He would do his best to help Sadik as well, since the other fell so far just now. Stepping closer, he soon sank down to sit in the chair next to the dark-skinned nation. "No need to rush just yet...the door is sturdy, and it is locked. We will have time if something comes. Do you know anything, ve? You're the first person I've run into since the party ended-- a-and I worry for the others, if the Manor is bringing up grudges for everyone and not just us..."

[Turkey]

“Not a bambino.” Sadiq muttered to himself as he continued to rub the flick mark on his head. Hearing Feliciano’s voice this time around seemed too sooth him somehow. He relaxed and closed his eyes, sinking into the seat more as he listened to his…friend? What were him and Feliciano now; he didn’t know anymore. With a slight shake of his head, he opened his eyes and looked towards the Italian and contemplated what was said. Was he sad over it? No…well, he was sad that he could still sink to that depth he thought he had got rid of decades ago. He thought that he had been able to change enough to never enjoy the thought of hurting others, seeing them shudder in terror because of something he did. Closing his eyes again, Sadiq realized he had been lying to himself this whole time. Or was it really the manor like Feliciano said…did it matter? He had enjoyed it, felt it sing though him like a long forgotten song. Even now he could still feel the small bubble of glee at the thought of what he had done to Feliciano, how he had reduced him to a cowering man again, how a part of him still wanted to see it….and it made him almost physically sick to know he felt like that.

“Where does the Manor’s influence stop and our own selves take over then if that is the case? It can influence how we feel and act, but it can’t create feelings and emotions like that…can it? Could it truly have been just the manor making me feel like that, or did I truly enjoy it?”

He needed to answer this, this question, it alone could dictate so much to him. Did he need to watch out for the manor or for himself now that he had this feeling in him? What should he believe, how he felt inside or Feliciano telling him it was just the manor? With another sigh, he looked towards the books then thought about that, anything to get his mind on something else, and information on the manor was a perfect topic.

“Your right, the library might not hold much, but… we each gather information the more we move around the manor and the more we interact with each other. And I’m sorry, but no, I don’t know anything about them. But I can tell you that Mexico wasn’t in such good shape. Her self-confidence and her strong will seemed to have been torn to shreds. I tried hard to return it, but only time will tell if that was successful. And… Iceland. He hit me too, but I deserved it.” He grinned slightly to himself and looked sideways at Feliciano. “Be careful if you make him mad, he has a hell of a punch on him. But yes, safety in numbers, watching each other’s back, it’s a good strategy, wish I would have thought of it.”

Sadiq watched Feliciano with a curious expression, watched him sit in the chair next to him and just stared at him for a few minutes, thoughts truly blank for a minute. There was no thoughts, just blinking occasionally before turning his head to look out the window again. “Bringing up old grudges for others I don’t know about, but-” with that a thought came to his head and it was almost possible to see the light bulb go off over Sadiq’s head. “Oh, I almost forget, the manor has…spirits. Things that aren’t native to it here. With the adventure with Icy, we ran into a haunted music box that had a Romanian Princess it it… or something to that affect.” He grinned, glad that he could remember that fact and pass it along to someone who actually seemed like it might be important.

[Italia Veneziano]

"..." Feliciano's face twisted up into a sort of sulking frown, and he shifted in his seat to reach over and flick Sadik's forehead again. "Stop talking like that, Sadik. It's getting frustrating hearing you get all...depressed and sulky and all that, ve." He was only referring to the less than cheerful mumblings about the influence of the Manor versus "themselves" and it was quite irritating to listen to when he was doing his best to be positive. "If you can't be positive, then at least try to be quiet until you've calmed down, per favore." However Sadik was going to respond to that, Feliciano didn't particularly care. Instead he leaned back into his chair, tucking his knees up close to his chest as he rested his head in his hand. "There is a sadistic side to all of us--it is part of our nature as both nations and simply beings that have lived as long as we have, and through as much as the world has put us through. Whether you enjoyed it, even a little, is not something you should be worried about, ve. Just focus on the self that you are, the one who's lived these past hundred years, and not worry about anything else. Focus on what matters to you, and that's all there is to it. So stop worrying and depressing yourself before I seriously lose my temper, ve."

And because of that comment, obviously Feliciano's mood had dampered slightly. And because of that, he hardly payed those reports on the two nations much mind. To be honest, despite how cruel it made him sound, the Italian wasn't particularly interested in how Iceland or Mexico were doing. Not to say he didn't feel for the poor woman and her apparent trials, or that he wasn't glad that Iceland seemed to be alright. It was simply that he worried more about his friends and family--the nations closer to his heart. He sighed heavily, his fingers splaying out across the aristocratic curve of his cheek and the slight dip of his temple. "No need to apologize, ve--It was expecting too much to hope that you had run into any of them with the size of the Manor." His voice was a bit resigned, but he still gently tapped his temple with two fingers. If he could just find the others...

But then that last little comment, finally drawing a bright grin in contrast the the dark skin of the Turk's cheeks, caught Feliciano's wandering attention. "...Spirits? As in...ghosts, ve." He reiterated, eyebrows furrowing behind his golden mask as he stared at the "younger" nation. "And of humans...who had not died here? I...That's a little worrying..." After all, if the Manor could summon ghosts and monsters here from places outside of its actual influence...Who knows what it could bring. But it was also good information to have, for it alerted him of the trials that could lay ahead. While he could never properly prepare himself for every single run-in that laid before him, it was better than being completely blindsided by something. Such a mistake could mean his life, and even the lives of those around him.

Finally, after giving all of this some quiet thought, amber eyes slid up from his knee to stare into chocolate brown eyes. "Is that all you know, ve?" He asked, wanting to get as much information as he could before giving up anything he knew himself. Not to say he felt he positively knew much at all, really, but Sadik didn't know or need to know that.

[Turkey]

Sadiq merely grunted in responses as he reached up to rub the new red spot that was bound to appear from the second flick. Saying quiet seemed to be his best answer currently, and it seemed as it was a good choice as Feliciano continued with his speech. He watched the Italian pull his hand back and pull himself into a ball as if trying to protect himself from something, only one of his hands free from the protective ball. Seeing this pose alone told him that Feliciano was uncomfortable and possibly wanted to hide from something….hide from him or from the manor? Sadiq’s eyes moved to stare at the carpet and they traced a few patterns in the material as the older Nation tried to comfort him, though the Italian seemed to want, no, need comfort himself based on body language alone. Sadiq listened closely, listened to every word that was said and let it sink into his brain. It was true, he knew that they all had a side that craved the pain and anguish from others under their own hands, and it was up to them if they did or not.

Realization hit him hard. He realized that with each word that was spoken, that if he continued down this thought pathway, he would be in serious danger of losing who he was now, in forgetting what mattered to him. Somehow, and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know exactly how; Feliciano knew what to say to him to make him feel better. Words alone could start the return of his better mood, but it wouldn’t be enough. He never relied much on words; they were such fickle things and often misunderstood. He was a physical nation who needed physical contact. He needed physical contact to drive the negative, sick feeling from him, and he wondered if Feliciano would mind. He was the one that told him to cheer up anyway. Glancing at the Italian, Sadiq could see the wheel’s and cogs turning in his head, thinking of who knew what now.


"No need to apologize, ve--It was expecting too much to hope that you had run into any of them with the size of the Manor."

And now it was Feliciano that sounded upset. Perhaps a bit of contact would help them both feel better. It was true that Sadiq missed his brother and friends; hell, he even missed the Greek pain in his ass; so he knew that Feliciano had to be missing people too. Every meeting he saw him with Ludwig and Gilbert, or even his brother or Antonio depending on the day. He really hopped the Italian found who he was looking for. Was there anything he could say to this besides the obvious of wishing him luck in his search? He didn’t think so.

"...Spirits? As in...ghosts, ve. And of humans...who had not died here? I...That's a little worrying...Is that all you know, ve”

It seemed like Feliciano was interested in that bit of information after all. Thinking some, he shrugged, there wasn’t much more he could remember from his time here. He had been very lucky so far, and could only wonder how much longer his luck would last. He wasn’t the luckiest Nation in the world. In fact, it seemed that if something were to start going good, it something would happen to make it go bad once he realized it was good. He could feel his thoughts starting to slip negative again, what with the friends and now this and everything. He needed to stop it before it got worse. Looking out the corner of his eye, he judged where Feliciano’s free hand was and reached out gently to take it in his own, lacing their fingers together as he looked back at the floor. The Italian’s hand fit in his own and was a comforting warm to him. Hopefully this could help them both. He wasn’t sure where to look or what to say or what to do. He felt at a loss. Didn’t know what he should be doing next with everything that was going on.

“I don’t know much else to tell you Feliciano. But I hope it was enough. I wish you all the luck in finding whoever you’re searching for. Godspeed.”

[Italia Veneziano]

It was a sure sign that Feliciano had been sinking into his own thoughts when he was surprised by the "sudden" feel of a large hand enveloping his own. It wasn't a sharp shock, or anything that would immediately yank him from his thoughts, though. He simply blinked a little, amber eyes lifting from their staring at the floor to gaze curiously into chocolate brown. A small part of him, awakened by the show the Turk had put on earlier, was screaming for him to pull away. To tuck into his little ball and avoid the touch entirely. Another sliver of his mind hissed and spat for a show of his own, to tell Sadik to keep his hands to himself and how he didn't appreciate the "pity" it saw in that gaze. That the Italian had enough pride to deny the "comfort" the man was trying to "gift" him with, for he didn't want the sympathy of a man who was just earlier trying to terrorize him.

But he kept quiet, because these were simple whispers that he put no stock into. They were simply trying to upset the "balance" he had forced into place, to keep himself calm amidst this horrid place. He knew that Sadik was being genuinely empathetic to his situation, not looking down on him with condescending sympathy. Easily shrugging away those voices and tucking them away, he offered a slight smile to the younger nation. "In bocco al lupo," he replied quietly, keeping that hand held loosely in his own grip. "You'll find tuo amici as well, and you'll escape. I know you will."

Then, he turned his gaze up to the ceiling. "No knowledge is "enough", but it will help, ve. Grazie." Those words were quiet, and he rested his cheek against the back of the chair upon which he perched. "I don't know anything that I can tell you in return, though. It's only been a few days, and I've been trying to hide from the...things out there." Thee was no shame in his admittance, even as he tightened his grip on that large, warm hand. "I don't even remember how I got up here." With a quiet giggle, he turned his gaze back to Sadik. "That bullet, the one I threatened to shoot you with earlier, would've been the first time I've even pulled that trigger. ...Mi dispiace for that, ve. I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me."

Feliciano wasn't sure what was spurring on these admissions, but he felt...better for them.