Astrit Zupan
Survivor
Pansexual.
Single.
13.
Played by Koso.
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Post by Kosovo on Mar 12, 2013 13:29:21 GMT -6
Alone again. Astrit hadn't seen another face in a while, and he was beginning to worry that he simply wouldn't meet back up with anyone, ever. His mental fortitude, which had been rejuvenated while he had been in company with Lithuania, was beginning to degrade again into a deep and whirling vortex of fear turning to paranoia and loneliness turning to desolation and regret turning to self-hatred. The worst was that it might be justified. Did it even qualify as paranoia, when you knew there were definitely malicious, powerful creatures in the house and they might really be around any given corner? Was it wrong, to feel utterly alone when for all you knew everyone you had ever loved or known or even met could be dead or worse, and even if they were still alive there was no guarantee that you would be able to find them? Might it not be justified, that he hated himself now after what he had been proven capable of in this horrible place?
The environment that surrounded him seemed so in tune with his mind, now, a far cry from the laughing familiarity he had pretended when he thought it was all a game. So long ago.... Rather than that amusingly distant thing it had too-briefly been, the dark, ruined manor seemed almost an extension of his own state of mind, like it was mirroring his thoughts. Blood stained the walls and his hands, even if he had tried to wash his hands clean. Darkness pervaded the halls, and the sickly yellow lights every now and again illumined only enough to let him see where he was going. Nothing relieved the gloomy pall over his surroundings or his mind.
Nothing, until he rounded a corner and saw something entirely new.
It looked like a finely worked silver key, just floating in midair a little bit above his head height, and glowing slightly. Unlike the lamps, its glow seemed to be... inviting, somehow. Like a burst of hope. Astrit reached up curiously, wondering what it was.
The moment his fingers brushed the key, it took off, zooming down the hall. He might have wondered if it was going towards some kind of trap--after all, this was a haunted mansion--but something in his heart told him otherwise. Instead, he ran after it.
The key was fast and relentless, but even though his mind was in poor shape, Astrit was still young enough to make use of the remnants of childhood energy. As long as he kept his eyes on the speeding key, he barely noticed how hard he was pushing himself to catch up with it. The key led him to the end of the hall, and down a staircase--the boy must have taken the stairs ten at a time, more in free-fall than anything else--and around one more corner before stopping before a door a third of the way down the corridor. Finally, he grabbed the key and from curiosity tried the door. It was locked, of course, with the key that had just led him there. In a moment, he was able to get through the door and lock it behind him.
Beyond, he found himself met by a shockingly welcome sight. It looked nothing like anyplace else in the Manor; the door seemed to have led to a different building entirely--a windowless wood cabin, to be exact. One section of the large room was taken up by a small forest of neatly made beds, all of which looked very comfortable and prompted Astrit to realize just how far and fast he had just run while carrying his now-accustomed burden of an excessively large sword. Another piece was occupied by a kitchen that appeared to be thoroughly stocked with food that made his stomach rumble to realize how long it had been since he had eaten. Another part of the room seemed to have been set up as a living room, with cushy-looking sofas and even a television. There was another door on one wall, which the boy considered investigating but decided to put it off until later. There was nothing hostile or dangerous about this place, he could tell. A welcome change, certainly, even though the cheerfulness almost felt alien.
The sword fit neatly under one of the beds, and the exhausted boy collapsed on top of it, breathing hard to try and slow his heart. Now that he let himself rest, his limbs felt like they had turned to spaghetti: wobbly, weak, and entirely useless for movement. The dark thoughts were still there, swirling in the back of his mind, but he was almost content to lie down and let himself appreciate this unlooked-for respite.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2013 23:23:27 GMT -6
Kyle was worried about Matilda. The Koala, normally possessing a vicious feral streak, was lying limp upon his shoulder and barely moving. She had been like this for some time and he was getting quite worried. In ideal circumstances he would have stopped by now to see to her, but this was not ideal circumstances. All the doors that he'd tried were either or had held something that did not want it's territory invaded. The last room that he'd entered had contained a small white hovering object with a wail that sounded like nothing he'd ever heard on this earth. The closest he could come up with was the sound of a beached humpback.
And all the while he'd been walking Matilda was getting quieter and more sluggish. She'd even stopped using her claws to hang onto his shoulder. A Koala's grip was an instinct far stronger than that of a human's. The fact that she was loosing hers could mean any number of things and none of them were good. The feeling of helplessness that came with being unable to treat her had Kyle's teeth on edge. Not because he wasn't used to the feeling, there had been plenty of occasions where (for whatever reason) he'd been unable to help an animal in need. It was because in the past he'd been unable to help for definite reasons. Reason's like having no medicine, no food, or not having the tools to find out what was wrong. Those were things he could understand, but nothing here made even the slightest bit of sense.
Here he was helpless and unable to do anything because something was preventing him from doing so. The feeling was alien to him and he didn't like it. Especially because he didn't even know what was obstructing him like this in the first place. If anything, he suspected that the Manor itself was preventing him from treating his Koala by forcing him to keep pushing on. But this suspicion had his mind in knots. Could a Manor like this one really render him unable to help his pet? Could it have in fact, made her unwell in the first place? Kyle didn't have the answers, and it was driving him wild.
As he rounded another corner something caught his eye. The passing glance he gave it resulted in a full on double take. Hovering in the middle of the corridor was a key with an intricate silver design. He'd never seen anything like it before. It glowed faintly with a light that seemed soft and inviting. Nothing like the cold lamps he'd passed in the hallways of this place. He reached up cautiously to try and touch it...
And as soon as he did the key was off like a shot and away. It zoomed through doors and passageways that previously didn't seem to exist and then rocketed up a set of stairs. Australia's long legs were put to work as he tried to keep up. The floating key thing sure was fast. As he bolted up the stairs he could feel his calves burning and his breath tearing in his lungs, telling him to slow down. Perhaps he should've listened to them but then he would've lost sight of the key. And he had a feeling that it wouldn't wait around for him to catch his breath.
After chasing the key through more corridors than he liked to count it stopped and Kyle skidded to a halt. With the key firmly clasped in his fist he surveyed the scene in front of him. A door (perfectly normal looking except for the ornate silver handle) was standing there; looking for all the world like it was inviting him to come inside. As the handle's design matched that of the key's Kyle tried it in the lock and was only half surprised to hear a nice solid click.
The other side of the doorway was much more astonishing. It was a room bathed in a soft, soothing light, the kind that would calm its weary and nervous visitors. A cluster of couches hovered in one corner around a wide screened TV set. In another was a sort of kitchenette that housed a fridge, a microwave and... My god was that a toaster?
But what caught Kyle's eye was what was obviously the sleeping quarters of this little oasis. First of all because there were several very comfortable looking beds there. And secondly because a skinny youth with an sword about ten sizes to big for him was sprawled across one of said beds.
He cleared his throat to get the younger nation's (for he surely couldn't be anything else but another nation) attention before speaking. "I don't suppose you followed a floating silver key to arrive here as well did you?"
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Why would I want to destroy something I helped build?
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Post by Mexico on Mar 13, 2013 9:38:18 GMT -6
A million years had passed. For endless hours she had ventured alone through the shrieking menacing walls that made up this place. No longer did she care where she went, as long as she went someplace. She couldn't stay in a place for too long. She couldn't allow herself to stop and take a deep breath for fear that the memories decided to hit her a thousand miles a second. One after the other like sparkles of negative energy hit the most vulnerable parts of her head. She hated this place. She did, with every single ounce of her being. The feeling inside her that seemed to build up with every breath was something close to a raging fit. There was anger inside her, accumulated from everything that she had to endure. An anger that she was afraid of.
She knew how to control her emotions. She was fairly good at hiding sadness and pain and vulnerability so that no one would ever question the nature of her sentiments. But there was just so much pain that a nation, let alone a human, could endure. The passion that ran through her hot red blood could also work to her disadvantage. When she got mad, it seemed that anything could set her off and her behavior was a mixture between screams and violence and finding whatever it was that would calm her down. Ana María didn't like feeling angry. She wanted, she yearned for some joy in this miserable hours that she spent in Manor.
There had to be something good inside. There just had to. Over the years Mexico had learned that anger and sadness could not exist without happiness. You cannot truly cherish happiness if you have never suffer from deep sadness. They balance each other. They benefit each other. The make human beings imperfect beings. There had to be some light inside this gruesome place. She refused to believe otherwise. Even if it was for her own sake.
Mexico had just done something she wasn't sure she could forgive herself for. The last words muttered by Serbia ached inside of her mind like rumbling fireworks. They shook her. They startled her. Even if she knew the words by heart, they still brought surprise into her being. Like she was listening to them for the first time. That experience seemed to be the last straw in her being. She was done. She was tired and she was exhausted. No more.
But she said that every time. Every time she claimed that she had had enough. Yet, when the situation demanded it, she still managed to pull through and endure another thing that added to the pain inside. How much more could she endure? No. How much more would she have to endure? All she wanted was a sign. Something that would make her believe that there was something more. Something worth keeping her hope for. Mexico sighed. But what could there be? If there was something, then she would already have found it, right?
A small tear escaped her eyes as her right hand grabbed hold of the key she had attached around her neck. Her grip tightened and all of a sudden the key floated away from her person. It stood glowing in front of her. For a moment Mexico was reluctant to believe what her eyes claimed to be as the absolute truth. She kept her distance, as if measuring any sort of danger that might threaten her. But the key, in all it's majestic light was impossible to ignore. Its beauty was intensified as the girl took a step closer to it.
The step was enough to make the key float away. Mexico ran after it, determined to catch it. She just wanted around her neck again. It was like a feeling of security she so ultimately desired. Every time she seemed to get closer to it, it simply floated away. It was a weird way of teasing her and Ana María was tired of teasing. The logical part of her mind claimed that she should just stop chasing, stop following, and give up. But her heart, and it was always the heart that she followed, demanded otherwise. So she did. Through the darkness of the shadows and the more gruesome parts of this mansion, she followed obediently.
Eventually the key lead her to the a door. She tried opening it but it wouldn't budge. She examined the lock and it seemed to need some sort of key. Key! Ana María turned around and took the key between her delicate fingers. She placed it inside the lock and gently turned it to the side. Amazed by how it fit, Ana María opened the door. She was still cautious as she closed the door behind her, fearing of what may lay inside. When she took a deep breath, she found herself feeling strangely welcomed. Ana María's eyes widened in surprise. This place was so entirely different than any other part in the Manor. Nicely made beds laid a few feet away from her. A kitchen that was scented with the unique aroma of fresh food. Her stomach reacted instinctively, for when was the last time she had eaten? There was also a living room, filled with couches and a TV. Ana María couldn't believe it. This place was like a home. It felt like a home. The sentiment of security and peace that was overwhelming her was so surprising that she took a step back.
She stood frozen in place, afraid to blink for it all might vanish the moment she stopped paying attention. Her eyes looked around again and again, memorizing what laid before her. She was focused on the environment around her, until voices seemed to pull her back into a defensive mode.
"I don't suppose you followed a floating silver key to arrive here as well did you?"
Her eyes followed the aching patterns of sound and Ana María found herself not alone. There were two people already on the room and she recognized them both. "Australia?" She said in response to the oddly English accent that she was not completely familiar with, but recognized immediately. Then her attention drifted to the younger presence. The silhouette of a boy that only existed inside her mind after the trembling words of her opponent. "K- Ko- Kosovo..."[/color] She tried to keep her voice in check but she couldn't. Once again the memories hit her and the duty to protect the small once splattered across the place she stood in. A small, very tiny bit of relief washed over her veins. He was okay, for now. Mexico had never taken care of anyone before. Not the way Serbia expected her to. And now she had. She had because she had promised. A dying wish that she had to follow through, even when there was no single part inside her that knew how.
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Astrit Zupan
Survivor
Pansexual.
Single.
13.
Played by Koso.
Offline.
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Post by Kosovo on Mar 13, 2013 22:30:01 GMT -6
Astrit had expected it would be eons before he felt ready to move again, but in its peculiar way his exhaustion left him well before that. So it was that, when the door swung open behind him somewhere between ten minutes and half an hour later, he was fully in command of his limbs again.
He felt so safe here, safe enough that he didn't even bother to look to see who was entering. Perhaps he would have back home, even if he had been sure of his safety, just to satisfy his curiosity. His priorities had changed a little since he had last been home. Now, he just luxuriated in the thought that not looking was unlikely to get him killed.
That was before the newcomer's voice said, "I don't suppose you followed a floating silver key to arrive here as well did you?" Lazily, Astrit turned to look at the speaker. The tanned, brown-haired man dressed in khakis and a faded jacket was already regarding him with vivid green eyes. At first, Astrit thought the man was carrying a gray teddy bear, but to his greater surprise the thing stirred and he realized it was a live koala. He immediately made two guesses: that this was Australia, since the Kosovan boy had never seen a koala in person and didn't think they were found in any other part of the world; and that whether it was Australia or not, this man was rather eccentric, as evidenced by the fact that he had chosen to carry a live (if currently quiescent) koala with him.
Astrit displayed the key that had not left his hand since he had caught it. "One flying key, right here," he confirmed.
Then he caught sight of one more person in the room, who must have entered just seconds before. She, too, was tan and brown-haired, but that was where her resemblance to the man who was probably Australia ended. Brown eyes scanned the room from behind an unnerving skull-shaped mask that kept him from being certain of her identity, and her dress was brightly colored. The young woman carried a sheathed blade.
All this Astrit noticed in the second before her scanning gaze landed on the man and the word "Australia?" passed her lips. So he wasn't alone in his guess as to the man's identity. Then her eyes found Astrit himself, and a change overcame her. She looked relieved, and haunted, and something else he couldn't quite identify except to know how familiar it looked, all at once. "K- Ko- Kosovo..." the woman stammered.
Astrit tensed instinctively. "That's me," he responded warily. "Who are you?" It couldn't be his sister, whom he already knew to be wearing her traditional dress and carrying a tennis racket besides the fact that she had silver hair and really wasn't that tan. It couldn't be Ukraine, who similarly didn't look a thing like that, nor Liechtenstein nor Belarus nor Monaco for all the same reasons, and it couldn't be Lithuania because while he had already seen that Toris was dressed as a girl, the Baltic nation certainly didn't consider making himself up as a skeleton to be a logical extension of cross-dressing.
The second half of his question went unasked: And why do you care?
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Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2013 2:13:01 GMT -6
The boy gave him a long languid look, eyes studying his costume and then his Koala. Kyle apparently passed his inspection because he then held out the key that had been clutched out of sight in his hand. “One flying key right here” Kyle looked and the key and saw that while it wasn’t exactly the same as his own, it did have the familiar friendly glow to it. He then turned his gaze back to other country. Quite frankly Kyle wasn’t too sure which country he was, but he did bare a strong resemblance to the Yugoslavian countries he’d met a few decades ago. Maybe this boy was one of them? If he was, he must be very new. Why he only seemed to be a few years older than Kyle’s own sister. But looking at him now, he might as well have been thousands of years old for all the weariness that was displayed in his features.
Australia remembered all too well the exhaustion that came with being a young country. It had taken him many years of hard work before he even acquired his own name as the great southern land. At least he didn’t have to worry borders, lines and boundaries like so many other nations. He was just about to ask this country (who was presumably from the Balkans region) what his name was when he heard the soft tread of footsteps behind him and a new voice, a women’s voice, spoke his name.
“Australia?” Kyle turned around. Standing in the doorway was Mexico. He recognised her instantly even with the skull mask covering half her face. And it was a good thing he did. Because at the moment she could have easily be mistaken for the living dead (as if he hadn’t dealt with enough of those in the Manor already). What made her look especially haunting, but also incredibly human, was the mixture of fear and wariness that was caught up behind her eyes; when she looked at the other nation that was in the room with them, relief and nervousness also joined the fray. "K- Ko- Kosovo..."
Ah, so that’s who the boy was. Kyle remembered saying he recognised the country some years back, but he had never met the nation in question, until now…
Though Mexico obviously knew who he was, had they perhaps met before? “That’s me, who are you?” Okay, well perhaps they hadn’t. If so, then why did Mexico know who the boy was, but not vice versa? Maybe she’d been involved with his formation indirectly? It was a common enough occurrence. At the moment she was seemed to be at loss for words so Kyle took it upon himself to get the introductions rolling.
“This is Mexico. She’s from the Americas, right below the US. He glanced back at Mexico and motioned her forward "She’s a lovely nation. I’m Australia, you probably haven’t heard of me. I live near Indonesia.” He checked the sleeves of his coat, pulled a White-tailed spider off one of them, and then stuck his hand out for the other nation to shake. “Pleased to meet you Kosovo” These were his usual formalities when introducing himself to new countries. Not following them could result in a nasty accident for all members involved. “It’s nice to see you again too Mexico” He called out over his shoulder. It was especially nice to see that she was still alive at all in this place. Australia sometimes wondered whether he was the only living nation left in The Manor. But the presence of these two at this moment showed that, at least for now, his fears had not been realised.
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Post by Mexico on Mar 16, 2013 19:05:29 GMT -6
"That's me. Who are you?"
There was little that she knew about Kosovo. Mexico did not recognize the disputed state as a sovereign and independent state from Serbia. It was her boss' call more than hers, for Mexico knew what it was like to be apprehended by someone more powerful and influential than oneself. But Kosovo wasn't Serbia's colony. Kosovo was a part of Serbia. They belonged together. They were one. Ana María couldn't quite understand why he would want to be his own country when he had everything he wanted, everything he needed with his sister. Wait, no. That wasn't entirely true. Mexico did understand why but she refused to acknowledge it, especially now after the consequences of her actions were starting to set it.
Ana María couldn't help but feel a small trace of distrust in Kosovo's voice. A bad attitude perhaps? Or something far deeper than that. If there was anything that Mexico knew it was that inside this place nothing was ever what it seemed. She too had managed to cover the traces of her actions and turn it into something else. She wasn't the same person as when the party had taken place, but she wasn't someone far unrecognizable. At least she hoped she wasn't. When she managed to put words together and sound understandable in a language that was not her own, Australia spoke for her. Her eyes drifted once more to the man holding the koala.
"This is Mexico. She's from the Americas, right below the US." Mexico took several steps inside the room as the gentle feeling of safety grew thicker. "She's a lovely nation. I'm Australia, you probably haven't heard of me. I live near Indonesia." The girl smiled mostly to herself as she heard the English-speaking nation move forward with the formalities of introductions. It was a comforting feeling to witness it. For a moment this could've easily been a business meeting, a world conference, a discussion between nations and bosses. It could've been anything but what was in reality. Mexico sighed. "Pleased to meet you Kosovo. It's nice to see you again too Mexico." It is nice to see you too Australia. I am glad that you both are okay." She said in a softer tone, her voice growing slowly more like her own. Her glance turned to the floor and her right hand made its way to the inside of her pocket. She had felt something inside there, something that hadn't been there before. Her hand traced what it was and in a second covered it. It would probably have been a reckless move, had there been something venomous inside there but the shape of it and the texture with which it was made of was quite the opposite. Mexico took out of her pocket a small rubber duck.
A rubber duck? Yes. It was yellow and squeezable and inside her pocket. Mexico didn't know what on earth something like that was doing inside her clothes. She was completely sure it had not been there when she had dressed for the party or during the party itself. Was it some trick of the Manor? She wouldn't be surprised. But maybe it was a sign, like when she had found the golden key. A rubber duck a sign? It was a funny thought but possible all the same. Mexico stared at it and then turned her head towards Kosovo. She wondered if she should tell him about his sister. Obviously he should know. They were family after all. But, what would he think of the fact that the reason that his sister was dead stood in front of him? Surely Kosovo would not forgive Mexico that easily and therefore she would not tell him the whole truth. It wasn't that Ana María was selfish, quite the opposite really. How could she protect him if he rejected even her presence?
"Kosovo, you're sis- sister sent me to uh, to take care of you. That I find you here is a surprise, but I am glad that I did. It seems safer here."[/color] Her accent seemed more pronounced, her r's were rolled more profound. If she could just explain in Spanish it would be easier for her. She used the word sister because she couldn't make herself speak the name of the one that had perished. She couldn't say Serbia out loud, especially not to her brother. Mexico held on to the rubber duck firmly, like something to cherish. It seemed silly but it worked. It did made her relax, just a little.
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Astrit Zupan
Survivor
Pansexual.
Single.
13.
Played by Koso.
Offline.
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Post by Kosovo on Mar 18, 2013 22:00:40 GMT -6
"This is Mexico. She’s from the Americas, right below the US. She's a lovely nation," Australia explained in response to Astrit's question. That answered the spoken half of his question, but left the question of Mexico's interest in the boy open.
Now that he had attached the proper name to her (masked) face, Kosovo could remember a few things he knew about Mexico--most significantly to him, that she was not among those who recognized that he was a country. Perhaps that question--whether he was a nation or not--mattered less here, as he had seen that they had all been taken down to a human level anyway, but it was nice to at least have a vague idea of how much to trust whomever he might meet. He gave her a guarded nod, cautious of doing more when he didn't know what her agenda might be. Of course, given their location, he was also aware of the rather large possibility that for the time being her agenda might simply be--like that of nearly everyone else he'd met--to survive however possible. If she were not hostile to him, and she did not seem to be, Kosovo would not be hostile to her. After all, this was too safe a place to fight amongst themselves.
"I'm Australia, you probably haven't heard of me. I live near Indonesia." So speaking, the man removed an alarmingly large spider from his arm and held out his hand to shake. "Pleased to meet you, Kosovo."
Astrit took the offered hand and nodded his comprehension, if not agreement. He had met Indonesia shortly after arriving here, in a time so long ago that it seemed like a distant dream, and she had introduced herself in terms of Australia. "I've heard of you," the boy corrected the man, "and I remember I heard from you once. You sent me good wishes for my birthday." Good wishes, by which he meant something he greatly valued: a recognition of his legitimacy. "It's good to meet you at last." And, he noted silently, it was good to have someone around he could start from a place of trust with.
Turning his attention to Mexico, Australia concluded the pleasantries, "It's good to see you again, too, Mexico."
"It is nice to see you, too, Australia. I am glad that you both are okay," Mexico answered politely. Again, something niggled at the back of Astrit's mind. She kept acting like she cared what happened to him, but why would she ever do that? And, what's more, she looked rather uncomfortable--but why? A snippet of the conversation he'd had with his sister before the death match flashed through his mind. Snezana had been acting similarly strange then, and it had come out that she had been aware, when he was not, that the dangers in this house were real. Was there something about this house that just made people act that way? Was the house itself in the habit of keeping horrible secrets from him to be transmitted through such revelations?
Was he getting paranoid? He admonished himself to stop worrying about these things and just pay attention properly.
Seemingly also worried by whatever she was thinking, Mexico reached into her pocket, apparently in search of comfort. When she removed her hand, she withdrew with it a rubber duck.
Well, that was odd. Why was she carrying around a rubber duck? Kosovo nearly voiced the question, but realized before it left his mouth that Mexico herself was looking at the duck with the bemused air of one inspecting an item whose origins are utterly unknown. She didn't appear to know any more about it than he did.
But she seemed to conclude that it was a thing that gave her courage for whatever reason, because she looked to Astrit and spoke directly to him, her accent more pronouncedly Spanish now. "Kosovo, your sis- sister sent me to uh, to take care of you. That I find you here is a surprise, but I am glad that I did. It seems safer here."
What? he wondered, trying to get his reaction to coalesce into something he could communicate. Mexico seemed frightened, unsure. If there was one word that did not describe her behavior with respect to apparently being entrusted with his safety (and that anyone other than himself had to be responsible for that was another tangle, but one that could wait until later), it was "volunteer." But why on earth would Snezana have conscripted this girl for such a purpose?
After a stunned pause spent making sense of his thoughts, Astrit managed, "Serbia sent you? Why?"
It wasn't nearly enough to encapsulate all the questions he had, of course, but it might certainly tell him something he wanted to know.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 19, 2013 23:50:48 GMT -6
Even though he had conducted this ritual dozens of times, it still never failed to bring a smile to Australia's face when a nation returned a handshake. And this young nation doing so was no exception. It may have seemed silly but to him it felt like a foundation stone, a positive step in the right direction to connections, trade, or (much more recently) survival.
He wasn't so ignorant as to believe that a simple joining of hands guaranteed these things, and in any case shaking hands was still an alien gesture to many countries, but it was still reassuring to know that whatever occurred in these interactions they could always start on the right footing.
"I've heard of you" Kosovo told him "And I heard from you once. You sent me good wishes for my birthday. It's good to meet you at last." Well, that certainly proved that what goes around comes around. Nodding in agreement Kyle backed away to allow Mexico to introduce herself properly, but strangely she didn't step forward.
Something was making her hesitate. Whether it was the strangeness of the situation, the delicacy of diplomatic relations (though Australia was starting to find that those had very little significance in this place) or some previous incident she had experienced in The Manor Kyle couldn't tell. Almost absentmindedly she traced the outside of the pocket of her costume before reaching in and pulling out a...rubber ducky? Now what on Earth did that have to do with a costume that included a skeleton mask?
Any further musings on Kyle's part were cut short by Matilda issuing a growl in the rubber ducky's direction. She clumsily tried to land a swipe at the plastic squeaky toy but her motor abilities still seemed to be off kilter because all she managed was an awkward tumble out of Australia's arms. He caught her with ease and scooped her up into a more secure grip where she couldn't wriggle out. "Silly duffer Matilda." He scolded her fondly "That's not a swan it's a duck. You know swans are black and ducks are yellow."*
After a long stare at the rubber ducky Mexico clutched it firmly in her hand and addressed Kosovo, her Spanish accent a little thicker than usual "Kosovo, your sis- sister sent me to uh, to take care of you. That I find you here is a surprise, but I am glad that I did. It seems safer here." She was right on that account, this place did feel safer than the rest of the Manor, more homey, a place where you could lay down your head without fear. Kyle could already feel his over-tensed muscles starting to relax, indicating that there was nothing unnatural here that could harm them.
Kosovo's tone when he replied was one of surprise "Serbia sent you? Why?" Kyle decided that now was a good time to move while Mexico told the boy of his sister's fate. He himself was as clueless as the other, but if what he'd seen in this Manor and Mexico's current nervousness were anything to go by, then it wouldn't be good news. Best give them some space and be on standby in case he was needed.
He carried Matilda over to the kitchen area and sat her down on the counter. He would use the time to find out what was making her so listless. Using his fingers he began by combing though her thick grey fur in search of ticks. While he would normally not wish this annoying parasite on any animal he found himself almost hoping that was what was wrong in Matilda's case. Ticks were something that he could deal with, something he knew how to handle. Australia had always considered himself competent in a wide variety of scenarios without ever being the master of one. But here he was starting to find out just how limited his experiences really were. If it turned out that whatever was making his Koala miserable was yet another thing that was out of his depth...well he'd just have to find a way to save her or die trying (at least that was nothing new to him).
*Australia only has black swans, as you can imagine the movie Black Swan left him very confused.
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Post by Mexico on Mar 26, 2013 22:34:04 GMT -6
Why?
The question was inevitable. She wanted to avoid it to every cost. She didn't want to say it aloud because she feared what this realization might do to her. Mexico looked at the child in front of her. He was only a boy. She looked at his innocent expression, reasoned with the emotions that his eyes might perceived and tried to come with a reasonable way to do this. She knew very little of Kosovo. She didn't know him enough to do this. Why had Serbia taken upon herself to ask her to do this? She didn't want to take care of someone she had nothing to do with. Mexico and Kosovo, the only thing they had in common was the letter o at the end of their names.
She took a step closer to the boy, stood next to him and decided that the only way to end this was forward. "What I am about to tell you is difficult and it may be hard to hear. I am not going to judge your reaction so you are free to take this in whatever mean makes it better for you. I do ask that you hear everything I have to say before you say anything. Otherwise I will stop and you shall do what I say without asking because that's how your sister wishes."[/color] Mexico took a deep breath and organized the words in her head. This was going to be a long speech, longer than perhaps she's ever had to give. The girl placed her hair behind her ear, wondered where to start. Maybe if she just came clean with it and let it out it would be best. But then Kosovo would stay with the first words and fail to listen to the rest. Fail to listen to what exactly? Her justification.
She really didn't want him to look down at her. She knew the boy would be angry and he had every mean to be so, but if maybe he could find some sympathy it would make this easier on her. Yes, on her. Mexico was thinking about herself. She was and there was no shame in admitting it. Because it was her feelings too, her emotions, and if she didn't think about ways to make this easier for her then no one would. Ana María took one of Kosovo's hands and placed both of hers on top. She wasn't sure if she was crossing a line but any lines that were left had become a blur ever since she addressed him. Mexico looked at Australia for a moment, wondering if it was best he stayed here or not. He would listen to what she had to say anyway, but maybe a friendly face? Who knew really...
"Kosovo, your sister- Serbia is dead."[/color] She took a moment to let the words sink. "And I am responsible for it. I am not going to lie, I had every intention of killing her. She was my opponent and we both knew what we were getting into. We both knew that in order to survive one of us had die. That was the way it was planned. I had to do it, in order to guarantee my own life."[/color] She swallowed and kept eye contact even if it was the most difficult thing to do. "She was a worthy match. We were at each other's hair and we fought valiantly for the sake of our people. My weapon, that knife that you see hanging from the side of my dress, is what I used to- to kill her. And on her last moments, know that she talked about you. She has always cared about you and as she stood on her knees, at her weakest moment, she asked of me that I take care of you. She made me promise that I got you out of here and that is what I intend to follow upon."[/color]
Many people say that hate is the only real thing. They say that it is the emotion that ultimately defines human behavior and actions. Hate can last forever, but so can love. People do impossible and reckless things for the people they love. They are willing to give up everything. No complaints. Mexico believed that love was more powerful than hate. Hate consumes and deprives a person from everything that has any value. Love can do the opposite. Love can save someone's life. "Kosovo, your sister saved my life. I understand that now. She died so that I could live. She sacrificed herself for me. Why would she do that for a complete stranger? I do not know. And I understand if you do not see this the same way I do. Serbia was an extraordinary person and I want you to know that I am truly sorry for what I have done. It is a grief that has no name. But it is done and there is hardly anything I or you can do about it.
Kosovo, I am determined to keep you well and safe. You may not like me and I understand if you do not forgive me, but you must do what I say so that we can both get out of here. I need you to be willing to do this. For your sister."[/color] Mexico looked down at the way her hands held on to the boy's. The color of his skin was almost completely identical to Serbia's and it pained her to think of how easily she was blinded by her own hatred. Ana María looked up but saw past Kosovo's face. She had done what she had done and it shouldn't be a regret because at the moment it was what she wanted. But now she could change that hatred and turn it into something else. Something worthy now. Something that really mattered. Mexico offered the young boy a small smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. A smile of comfort. She wanted to make him feel that he was safe with her. She wanted to make him understand that she would not let anything hurt him. Not as long as he was under her protection.
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Astrit Zupan
Survivor
Pansexual.
Single.
13.
Played by Koso.
Offline.
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Post by Kosovo on Mar 27, 2013 20:29:40 GMT -6
As soon as Kosovo had asked Mexico what was going on, Australia wandered off. The boy wondered why, but there was nothing he could really do about it if he wanted to hear what Mexico had to say, and he was fairly certain that it was what Mexico had to say that was the most important to know right now. The young woman seemed to be hesitating. Whatever she was planning on saying, she seemed to be struggling with it.
"What I am about to tell you is difficult, and it may be hard to hear," the Latina began, stepping forward. "I am not going to judge your reaction so you are free to take this in whatever mean makes it better for you. I do ask that you hear everything I have to say before you say anything. Otherwise I will stop and you shall do what I say without asking because that's how your sister wishes."
Astrit nodded, gritting his teeth just a little. He didn't like those terms at all, being rather opinionated, but if that was what it took then so be it. Unquestioning obedience was not something he cared to practice. Better to find out what was going on.
As for the part about it being difficult to hear... he had supposed that it would probably be so, by virtue of the fact that Mexico was struggling so much to say it. She took his hand--his left hand, thank goodness--in both of hers and spoke.
"Kosovo, your sister- Serbia is dead."
It was lucky that Mexico chose to go quiet for a moment after saying those words, because Kosovo would not have heard her if she had said anything further. Serbia? Dead? "Impossible," he whispered numbly, too quietly for anyone to hear. He felt as if a pair of giants' hands had clapped in front of him and struck him with the shockwave.
"And I am responsible for it."
Astrit's first, instinctive response was a sort of distant, unreal revulsion. He wanted to recoil from this woman, who bluntly claimed responsibility for this impossible thing, but Mexico kept talking.
"I am not going to lie, I had every intention of killing her. She was my opponent and we both knew what we were getting into. We both knew that in order to survive one of us had die. That was the way it was planned. I had to do it, in order to guarantee my own life."
Deathmatch. It hit him as soon as Mexico used the word "opponent" and became clearer with every word after. His sister and this woman here must have been thrown into a death match like the one he and Prussia had been forced into. He wondered whether they had been given the same cruel instructions he remembered, if they had fought in the same room. Wondered if it had been before or after his duel--or if those words "before" and "after" even meant anything in terms of that place. Wondered if the same monsters he remembered growling beneath the floor had fought over Serbia's blood like they had fought over Prussia's...
He shook the dark thoughts out of his head and focused on the painted face of the woman in front of him. They might have both survived that dark place, but now they were here, in a well-lit and homey room that exuded safety. He wanted to know more, and though he was still too shocked to speak, Mexico kept talking.
"She was a worthy match. We were at each other's hair and we fought valiantly for the sake of our people. My weapon, that knife that you see hanging from the side of my dress, is what I used to- to kill her."
Kosovo's eyes were drawn to the weapon in question now, and his free right hand slipped into his pocket to touch his own knife. His was much smaller, meant for a very different purpose but used in something far too much like the same way. It was an ugly thought, to imagine his sister dying on that weapon; as imaginations do, his mind presented him with all the horrible ways it could have played out.
Again, he forced his mind back to the present. Later, he could work through all this pain. Now he needed to... know more.
"And on her last moments, know that she talked about you. She has always cared about you and as she stood on her knees, at her weakest moment, she asked of me that I take care of you. She made me promise that I got you out of here and that is what I intend to follow upon."
So that was it, that was the reason that Mexico had been behaving this way. Prussia had not spoken in his final moments, not even when Kosovo had asked him a question; he had not seemed to care about much of anything when he died. But Serbia had cared... about Kosovo?
It touched him, in a strange way. Another thing to put aside for the moment, to deal with later.
"Kosovo, your sister saved my life. I understand that now. She died so that I could live. She sacrificed herself for me. Why would she do that for a complete stranger? I do not know. And I understand if you do not see this the same way I do. Serbia was an extraordinary person and I want you to know that I am truly sorry for what I have done. It is a grief that has no name. But it is done and there is hardly anything I or you can do about it."
To this, he could only nod numbly. He knew what that meant. His sister had done for Mexico the same thing that Prussia had done for him, and the survivors could only wonder why. He wanted to speak, and he thought that his turn had come, but Mexico kept talking.
"Kosovo, I am determined to keep you well and safe. You may not like me and I understand if you do not forgive me, but you must do what I say so that we can both get out of here. I need you to be willing to do this. For your sister."
Forgive her? Kosovo could not help but forgive her now. And when she looked at him and offered a small smile, he managed a small and uncertain smile in return.
"Mexico."
The name was strange and uncertain on his tongue, and probably mispronounced into the bargain. They had never really communicated, never really had a reason to speak of each other. But he kept speaking nonetheless, trying to make a connection over this horror that they had both somehow survived.
"It was... a death match, wasn't it? Maybe in a big room with monsters under the floor, and nothing else in it but a fancy light, and an evil thing that appeared to you to tell you that there were rules?"
He looked away. Couldn't watch her face while he pulled his right hand and his knife out of his pocket. Stared at them for a second, forcing himself to accept that they were clean, before he looked back up and a confession spilled from his lips.
"That sword under the bed belonged to Prussia. I killed him just that way, and he sacrificed himself to let me live. I don't even know why. He had me good as beat and he knew it, but then he stopped fighting at all... and I killed him with this knife, with this hand. He let me, when I barely knew his name before. I can't blame you for doing exactly what I did. You didn't have a choice..."
For some reason, he couldn't finish that thought. He couldn't absolve himself so easily as he could Mexico. But for a moment, he thought maybe he could see a way out of his guilt, to pure grief and then to healing. It was the faintest possible spark of hope, but it was there.
"I don't know why," Astrit admitted, "but I think I trust you now. We've both survived... having to kill."
There it was, the bald word that made them alike. Killers who wouldn't have killed. It answered so many of his questions, to know he wasn't the only one to have experienced it this way.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 7, 2013 3:54:06 GMT -6
Kyle’s guess had been right; Mexico was passing on news of Serbia to her brother and not good news either. But what shocked him was the manner in which Kosovo’s sister had met her demise.
“Serbia is dead. And I am responsible for it.” Kyle’s head shot up. Mexico had killed Serbia? A thousand questions flashed through his mind. Why would she do that? What was her motive? Had she done it in madness and cold blood? Here Kyle looked at the female nation closely. Mexico had always struck him as someone whose feet were firmly planted on the ground, even as her heart was tuned to her emotions. Insanity just wasn’t her style. But then again, he didn’t know her that well and facades could be very easily maintained if you were careful enough. Take right now for instance. On the outside he continued the examination of his koala, inwardly though he was calculating how much force and distance he’d need to knock the other nation out with his boomerang if things came to that.
But as the words continued to flow from Mexico’s mouth Kyle became so transfixed that all plans he had of forced escape melted away from his mind. The scenario she was describing, it sounded as if she had not been given a choice. As if she was forced to either kill the other nation or be killed. And as she continued to talk Kyle knew that there was grief in her voice. She hadn’t wanted to kill Serbia, and doing so had caused her unmeasurable pain... Mexico laid all this out before the boy whose sister she’d just killed. And honouring Serbia’s final request, she swore to protect him herself.
But then the real icing on the cake had been Kosovo’s response. “It was a death match wasn’t it? Maybe in a big room with monsters under the floor, and nothing else in it but a fancy light, and an evil thing that appeared to you to tell you that there were rules?"
So Kosovo had gone through the same experience, at the Manor’s behest. How many others had been involved? Kyle already knew that he would never find the answer to this question, but that didn’t stop him from thanking his lucky stars that he’d been spared such a fate. He honestly did not know what he’d do if he had to confront an enemy in a such a match, or even worse a friend.
And with Kosovo’s final words "I don't know why, but I think I trust you now.” Kyle had breathed a quiet sigh of relief. So much of this exchange had depended on how the younger nation took it. Kyle would not have blamed him in the slightest for being upset, furious even, at Mexico for what she’d done. But if the boy had any fury at all then he swallowed in back and forgave her, if only because he understood what Mexico had to go through. Kyle himself wasn’t too sure if he could comprehend it himself. Killing because you have to is one thing, killing for pleasure is another, but making others kill for your pleasure? That was entirely out of his realm.
And as Kosovo finished speaking Kyle’s finger’s brushed against an oddly shaped lump against Matilda’s forearm. Ah, so it had been a tick after all. With practiced efficiency he pinched the insect at the jaw and pulled it out from his pet’s skin. Crisis averted on both fronts, one because he knew what to look for, the other because a young nation was able to empathise with the actions of another. Hang on... empathise.
“Kosovo” He addressed the younger nation “I think I know why Prussia allowed you to live.” Indeed he had a fair idea as to why the silver haired ex-nation had let himself be killed by this boy. It was just possible that the crazy albino, in the heat of battle, had recognised what was now staring at them in the face.
Picking Matilda up he crossed the room and came to stand once more beside Mexico. “I think he saw your potential, what you could become. If we ever get out of here I reckon you’ll grow into a great nation. Not only because you’re strong, but because you can understand others actions...and forgive them for it. He saw that there’s hope for you yet.”
Kyle then passed his Koala over to Kosovo. It was a stupid action and he knew it, but it was the only way he could think of showing the younger nation that he believed in him, by entrusting him with the care of one of his animals if only for a little while. It helped that Matilda was still too dozed up from the tick’s bite to even think of mauling the kid. Kyle then left Kosovo to absorb his words and turned to face Mexico.
“I don’t know if you have any plans for getting him out of this place or not.” By him he meant Kosovo “But if you have any ideas then I’ll be happy to help.” Realistically he knew that they stood a better chance of getting one or two of them out of this Manor than all three. And out of the three of them he felt that it should be Kosovo, along with Mexico if that was possible, women and children first and all that. Besides, there was someone else trapped here that he wouldn’t leave until he found them again, alive or dead.
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Survivor
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Why would I want to destroy something I helped build?
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Post by Mexico on Apr 8, 2013 21:08:25 GMT -6
Mexico had never apologized like this to another nation. Apologizes were hardly given. Nations rarely talked about the wars of the past in a personal level. They didn't say "I'm sorry for-". She had never heard Spain apologize for making her a colony, or for killing Aztec Empire, or for driving her into rebelling against him. She had never heard America apologize for stealing half her territory during the Mexican-American War. She had never heard France apologize for invading her territory when she failed to pay him back. Apologies like this did not exist. One of the hardest things about a nation was that you stood still and watched the people pass you by. One couldn't simply deal with stuff that had happened years, if not centuries ago. They had to keep moving forward. Never forget but not deal with it in the present.
"Mexico."
The soft sounding of this child, his voice echoing inside her mind like a warm musical provided her with relief and uncertainty. He had no reason to forgive her. No reason to obey her and trust her that she was in fact capable of getting him out of there. He had no proof that she could keep her word. She was the murderer, the killer, the assassin and she almost took that role. She almost convinced herself. That match had ignited a flame inside her that had remained off during the three hundred years as a colony, and the two hundred as a country.
Mexico had feared that she had enjoyed that moment. That solemn moment of power in which she looked at her opponent with the dominant face at hand. Was it then that that suppressed feeling had finally come to the light? Mexico would rather be the dominant than to be the dominated. She couldn't allow herself to succumb to the will and power of another. It was madness. And maybe that's why during her match against Serbia she had desperately and irrevocably refused to fail. She had unconsciously agreed to murder someone who could be spared as long as she did not lose. Lose what? Whatever. The point was not what to lose, the point was that she wouldn't lose anything.
"It was... a death match, wasn't it? Maybe in a big room with monsters under the floor, and nothing else in it but a fancy light, and an evil thing that appeared to you to tell you that there were rules?"
Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. Ana María held Kosovo's hand firmly between hers and nodded. She pressed them against her chest as the beating of her heart took a calmer road. She bowed her head slowly so that her lips touched her palms. It looked for a moment as thought she was praying, and praying she might be. The only thing she did was hold his hand like she would hold a rosary and silently ask for forgiveness. Her religious beliefs were one of the things that Spain had planted deep unto the core of her soul. They were always there. A country may be a country but in the reality of things a country is still a human being and as a human he or she makes mistakes. Mistakes of grand magnitude at times. Mistakes that take a longer time to talk about to the Lord. All she was thankful for was that she was alive and so was the one that had been bestowed upon her.
"That sword under the bed belonged to Prussia. I killed him just that way, and he sacrificed himself to let me live. I don't even know why. He had me good as beat and he knew it, but then he stopped fighting at all... and I killed him with this knife, with this hand. He let me, when I barely knew his name before. I can't blame you for doing exactly what I did. You didn't have a choice..."
Mexico opened her eyes and gazed down upon the sword that the young boy talked about. It was hard to imagine Prussia holding such sword. It was hard to imagine Kosovo facing the force of an ex-nation that, although had fulfilled his purpose, still had centuries of experience in the art of war and battle strategy. But as Kosovo had said, Prussia had allowed him to live. It was something to think about that bit of words. To be allowed to live." It sounded like the old ways of slavery. They were all slaves to the Manor, whether they liked to admit it or not. In the end they did what the Manor desired and at the same time were slaves to one another.
Ana María wondered what would have been of her had Serbia decided not to sacrifice herself for her. Would she have won? Or maybe she would've done the same thing she did and allow her to continue to look for her brother. So many different scenarios and sentiments followed what Mexico had just thought about. But there was something else that bothered her and that was whether or not she had had a choice in the matter. Truth is people always have a choice. There is always a choice. Mexico chose to survive, she chose to kill Serbia even when she didn't want to. She could've refused to fight and become the pray of the monsters underneath. The choice was there. She chose what helped her the most.
"I don't know why, but I think I trust you now. We've both survived... having to kill."
And finally relief. That was all that Mexico truly wanted to hear, the certainty that he trusted her despite everything she had done. She didn't know whether it was the truth that set you free, but it had worked this time and for that she was grateful.
"Kosovo," The sound of another voiced seemed unfitting in the situation that had arisen between the two. Mexico turned to look at Australia who seemed to join them back into their conversation. Ana María sighed for a moment for she was sure he had heard everything and while she had come clean with the youngster she was still reluctant to spread the news to others. It wasn't something to be proud of. "I think I know why Prussia allowed you to live." Australia had grabbed her attention and Ana María looked intently at the man who had decided to stand next to her. Did he possess all the answers they were looking for? Some at the very least? The reason why they had been spared even when their opponents were an equal or greater match?
"I think he saw your potential, what you could become. If we ever get out of here I reckon you'll grow into a great nation. Not only because you're strong, but because you can understand others actions...and forgive them for it. He saw that there's hope for you yet."
Hope, what a strange thing to hear out loud. Mexico's eyes followed Australia's motions and she looked at the Koala that never seemed to leave his side. Such an interesting animal, cute in every sense of the word. She almost reached to pet it but she knew better than to touch strange animals. Back home her xoloitzcuintles, those famous hairless dogs, would bark at anything that was unfamiliar. At times they were a bit violent and she certainly did not want an experience like that on top of everything else, so she kept her hands to herself.
"I don't know if you have any plans for getting him out of this place or not." Australia suddenly said, turning to face her. "But if you have any ideas then I'll be happy to help." Mexico looked down for a moment trying to restart her memory and all the plans she had previously assigned for escape. Escape was something that everyone had in their mind right now but it seemed like a thought long lost in time. "I do not have quite a solid plan." She said in a more confident tone towards her English speaking abilities. "At first I had thought about exploring the Manor. A place like this would certainly have a weakness and that weakness ought to be, um, exploited, is that right? Anyway, I had been doing most of the exploring outside and I haven't gotten anywhere so you are more than welcome to share your ideas."
Finally, she let go of Kosovo's hands as her eyes met with Australia's in hope that he might have a plan that, if not better, would match the urgency of the situation. Her only concern was the safety of the kid and that new emotion was overpowering and overwhelming. It was in a bit weird how much she was willing to do for someone who wasn't herself, someone that for most of her time here knew only by name. Is that what Spain had felt when she belonged to him? A father and daughter bond. Parent and child. It made sense.
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Astrit Zupan
Survivor
Pansexual.
Single.
13.
Played by Koso.
Offline.
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Post by Kosovo on Apr 11, 2013 23:18:06 GMT -6
Up until that point, Astrit had been able to keep himself together, but when silence fell between him and Mexico, he could no longer keep the memories back.
Red eyes. Animal grin. Sword screeching and sparking along the metal grid of the floor. "Your sister is likely already dead."
No. No. He had been right. Gilbert had spoken the truth in his insanity, and Astrit had been too stubborn to believe it. Did that mean--did it make his survival a fake, somehow? That what little justification he had had was gone? He had been so determined to live... but hadn't that been...
Opposite ends of the deathmatch stage. The first words spoken. "I am not going to be killed today. Make your peace."
Right, and Astrit had been equally confident he wasn't going to be killed--and, unlike Gilbert, he hadn't been... and how much of that had been his determination to see his sister again? However much that had been, it was useless, useless because he wouldn't get to see her alive anyway. That pessimism...
"Your sister is likely already dead."
It was true. How could that be? Despite everything, it was true. Yet in the present time, Mexico seemed to be praying over his hand, almost as if she was physically holding him to reality. The hand she held was the clean one, the one that hadn't--her hands, like his, had been--
Blood, so much blood, dripping through the floor to feed the evil things below.
Kosovo couldn't even tell whether the image in his mind now was his memory of Prussia's death or his imagination's construction of Serbia's. Did it even matter? They had died, both of them, in the same place for the same reasons, except...
"Kosovo."
The boy looked up at the sound of his name, his thoughts interrupted for the first time in the--seconds? minutes?--since he had fallen into this trancelike state. Australia had come back around into the bedroom-area, still carrying his koala.
"I think I know why Prussia allowed you to live."
His attention was already focused on the other nation, but at Australia's words, Kosovo jumped slightly in place. "Why?" he wanted to know. Was there a reason that didn't make him wrong for being alive? Something that was somehow valid now?
"I think he saw your potential, what you could become. If we ever get out of here I reckon you’ll grow into a great nation. Not only because you’re strong, but because you can understand others actions...and forgive them for it. He saw that there’s hope for you yet."
He was hungry to hear those words, but at the same time he struggled to accept them. He could forgive Mexico now primarily because he knew that in this, he had no claim to being any better. If he refused forgiveness to someone who had made exactly the same choice he had under exactly the same circumstances, he would be sacrificing another piece of the humanity he had left. That would be another step that he was so desperate not to take towards being no better even than the monsters who had forced them into those deadly games.
What would you give your life for?
If there really was any hope for Astrit, then paradoxically he was less likely to survive in a place like this than someone who had given up every chance at redemption. Sooner or later, he would all too possibly be asked to choose, death as himself or survival as an unrecognizable monster. Was the hope real? And even if it was, did he really have a chance at ever manifesting it as anything more than a relatively noble destruction?
But then Australia handed him the koala. It was as warm and heavy and furry as he had expected--perhaps a bit heavier; the larger nation must have been strong to make it seem so light. The boy held it very carefully; though the creature seemed docile, he feared angering or harming it.
This must have been a gesture of trust, and though his worries didn't dissolve, it warmed Astrit to think that someone had confidence in him. He gave the austral nation a grateful smile, which the other seemed to see before turning to address Mexico.
"I don't know if you have any plans for getting him out of this place or not, but if you have any ideas then I'll be happy to help."
Getting out--if it were possible, if they could find a way, then maybe there would be hope for Kosovo after all. There were dangers outside and at home, of course, but those were human dangers. Ordinary dangers that any nation might face. Dangers that didn't teleport or play havoc with your memory or force alliances to break without a reason. He had never once imagined that he would be nostalgic for the kinds of things that happened on account of human corruption and tyranny, but he had equally never imagined that he would be facing a situation where all of those things happened multiplied by the blatant intervention of malicious, supernatural forces.
Mexico's admission that she had no definite plan for how to escape sounded more confident than her long confession had, perhaps because that was one hurdle cleared. Kosovo hated to think of himself as an obstacle, but he could have served as one if he had resisted the news. While it still irked him in a distant way to know that Serbia had continued to believe him a child in need of caring for up until her death (although perhaps she had not been quite as wrong as he may have wanted to think; he knew he had not been ready to deal with the emotional aftermath of being forced to kill Prussia; still, given Mexico's behavior, perhaps this was a thing of such magnitude that adults and children would be equally unprepared), he understood that thanks to his sister's determination to protect him, he was now safer and likelier to be able to get free. That was valuable.
Suppose he were able to get home. What would he find next door in his sister's house? What could it possibly mean, for a nation to die as a human--would it fall to him to represent her nation as well as his own? That would be deeply ironic, in a black-comedy sort of way. Or would he find his sister mysteriously resurrected by her land, or perhaps present as a ghost like the inverse of how Prussia had lived all this time? That would also be strange, but it would offer him hope that he could do as he had told Prussia he would and make peace with the one person he was forever at odds with. Or would her country somehow create a new personification? The possible ramifications of that were staggering; what would such a person be like? Or would everyone just go on as usual, with no one except for a very few knowing that there had been a girl who was Serbia and now there was not? Somehow, that was the most unimaginable of all.
Mexico requested ideas for escape routes, but Kosovo shook his head. He had nothing useful. Still, in an effort to return his mind to the present place and time, he contributed, "I've mostly stayed inside the building. It's big enough to have a courtyard in the middle, which includes its own cemetery but no way out as such." If he couldn't contribute any positive information, at least he could tell them where not to go.
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Post by Deleted on May 7, 2013 5:26:49 GMT -6
Hearing Mexico’s admission to not finding anything on the outside of the Manor was more disheartening to Australia than he would ever openly admit. After all he had spent the vast majority of his existence here trying to find to find a way out of the damn building. He was like a half tamed wildcat that’s being confined to the walls of a family home; desperate to get out, positive that relief from the madness of cabin fever existed on the other side of the front door. And if the door was locked? Well those windows had to serve some purpose... And now finding out that nothing (least of all means of escape) appeared to exist on the grounds of the Manor... it was crushing. If there wasn't a way out of this place from the grounds then there might be one from the indoors, or a way out simply didn't exist. ‘Please, please let it exist. Being trapped, being trapped here, I’d rather go mad. I may very well go mad anyway.’ No, no there had to be a way out. This was an old house built on the foundations of immense wealth and slavery. It had to have bolt hole!
"I've mostly stayed inside the building.” Kosovo spoke up “It's big enough to have a courtyard in the middle, which includes its own cemetery but no way out as such."
And that just made him feel so much more hopeful.
Australia looked around the room they were currently standing in, vacantly searching for some object of inspiration. Unfortunately as comforting it was, the room wasn't particularly inspiring. It was large, luxuriously so, and filled with all sorts of homely comforts like mugs and carpets and pillows. In fact was made this room so unique was its seeming ordinary appearance. It was an absolute contrast to everything else Australia had encountered in this place. Now there was an idea, they could find plenty of things here that were a rarity in the rest of the Manor. When was the last time that he'd even seen a first aid kit?
“I haven’t been outside the Manor’s walls at all, though hell knows I've been trying to get out. If there is a way out it might have been in a place we haven’t been, or have overlooked. I think if we are going to search this place properly we need supplies...and we need light.”
A torch, lanterns, candles, even matches. They all possessed the ability to illuminate, to create light. And they needed light in this place just as much as they needed weapons. If they had light perhaps they could expose secrets (Mexico had called them weaknesses) that had previously been hidden to them. It was a slim chance that in his eyes at least, was a chance worth taking. And even if their searching revealed nothing they would still have the light sources to help them peer around the corners of these hallways where anything might be lurking. That ability would be extremely useful.
“There’s bound to be things around here that we could use.” He finished.
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Survivor
Offline.
Why would I want to destroy something I helped build?
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Post by Mexico on May 11, 2013 17:14:06 GMT -6
Mexico deeply desired to get all this emotions and memories away from her conscience. This feeling of victimization, of feeling helpless at the hands of a master was really getting inside of her nerves. She wasn't sure how much longer she could ignore the fact that she wanted to rip someone's head off, it only for a small hint of control. Contrary to popular belief, Ana María absolutely loathed losing control. She hated being possessed by something other than her own mind. It was an ironic feeling, an ironic confession since she drank at times more than she should, and that state of intoxication was, without a question, the most reckless way to lose control. She was a bag of contradictions this girl.
Mexico was slightly, no, she was utterly disappointed that there was no course of acton to follow, no plan and no clear path of how they were going to make it through this. Her brain was clueless in ideas. It grew in her irritation that she was at the same place she had been when everything had started. Right at the beginning.
"I've mostly stayed inside the building. It's big enough to have a courtyard in the middle, which includes its own cemetery but no way out as such."
"I haven't been outside the Manor's walls at all, though hell knows I've been trying to get out. If there is a way out it might have been in a place we haven't been, or have overlooked. I think if we are going to search this place properly we need supplies...and we need light."
Light. Why had Mexico never thought about it that way? It was the basic philosophy of yin-yang. Everything required a balance. Seemingly opposite forces are interconnected in the world so that they can interrelate to one another. Warmth required cold. Life required death. Water and fire. High and low. Male and female. And of course, light and darkness. In a place with so much darkness and barely a hint of light, it was no wonder that things were so atrocious. There was no opposite force that could control the darkness inside the Manor and pull it back. There was so much death that it consumed the living. Australia's idea was a good one, for it was essentially a clever start. Candles and lanterns, torches and matches could all contribute to finding the weakness of this place.
Their own presence had already played a part. They were living humans residing within its walls. That caused the seemingly endless display of monsters to arise and revolt to restore the familiar air of sobriety. Mexico wondered for a second, as she looked around, of what was inside this room that could help them in their quest. It also brought the realization that the reason this room felt so nice to be in, so safe was because it seemed to be an extension of the building. Something that was in the Manor but wasn't exactly a part of it. There was balance in it, that's why there were no monsters.
It was a nice theory, nice conclusion to go on.
"There's bound to be things around here that we could use."
That was right. Mexico took that as her cue to stand up and look around the place. She looked around the aisles of beds, looking for any oil lanterns that might separate them. Why oil lanterns? It just seemed like the type of thing that would appear in a place like this. It was an old building after all. Not much electricity, and at times none at all. But when she found nothing, she moved over to the kitchen. The kitchen seemed like a place of fair game in this search. Surely there had to be something worth using.
She opened the cupboards, drawers and even looked inside the stove, but there wasn't much to go on. If she could find a candle then she could improvise something from there. For a moment there it seemed she would have to resort to make her own. Which normally she wouldn't mind, but she doubted she could find the proper wax to make one.
There were, however, two more cupboards that she hadn't touched. This ones were at the top most part of the kitchen so she had to pull a chair to barely open them. A hint of great accomplishment washed over her face, when in fact she did spot the familiar odor and texture of a candle. She leaned forward to try and grab it, but there was co much so that her frame could expand. Mexico groaned and turned to look at the boys. "I am sorry to be a bother, but if you would please help me, Australia. It appears I can't exactly reach."[/color] It was annoying to be dependent on someone for such an easy task, but Mexico had learned, especially over her time in the Manor, that at times she did needed help, for she wasn't able to do everything on her own.
Once she could get a hold of that candle, she could proceed to make paper lanterns. Or cloth lanterns for that matter, if paper was no where to be seen. She was quite useful to making stuff with her hands. Not only would it help the situation but it also relaxed her, and some peace was very much welcomed at this point.
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