Untouchable
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Your head will collapse, but there's nothing in it and you'll ask yourself: Where is my mind?
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Post by Finland (x) on Jun 17, 2012 22:44:29 GMT -6
The leftover taste of apple mingled in Tino's mouth as he hurried down the hall, taking another bite of the piece of fruit. Tino was fortunate to have stumbled across the kitchen of the Manor, which happened to be filled to the brim with food. It was a good thing too, because Finland couldn't remember the last time that he had eaten. Food wasn't exactly plentiful in the haunted house. The fact was evident, as Tino's skin was pulled tight across his hips and ribs. Tino had never been overweight (in fact, he was always on the thin side), but now his bones seemed to jut out unnaturally. Regardless, he couldn't linger around the kitchen. If he were right and it was the only place stocked with food, then it would lure other things to it, nation or not. Thus, Finland stuffed his face with whatever was at hand (like the apple) and packed his cloak with a loaf of fresh bread, a large box of crackers and about a dozen apples. Hopefully the food would last a few days, if he rationed it properly. He had rolled the white cloth into a bundle over his shoulders, while the bleached hood still sat loosely atop his pale blond head.
Tino hastily paced down the hall, only halting when he saw movement flicker on the wall to his left. He whirled around, flicking the kitchen knife that he had stole from the previous room to dangle it at the being that looked back at him. Tino paused, before letting the weapon sag back to his hip, where he secured it against his belt. Though Tino wasn't the largest fan of mirrors, the reflective slab poised no immediate threat. Forcing himself to swallow, Tino took a brief moment to gaze at his reflection.
He almost didn't recognize himself. The stranger in the mirror was thin with hollow, hungry violet eyes. In the thin black muscle shirt, Tino's shoulders looked sinewy, while his arms appeared fragile. The stranger grimaced, before attempting to flex the muscle. It was there, but reduced from normal. With a sigh, Tino brushed his bangs from his eyes. The man in the mirror did the same. Tino pursed his lips. His normal platinum blond hair was stained and grimy, darkened a few shades by the filth. He needed a shower. He didn't smell or anything, but he could feel the layer of dirt that had packed onto his skin. Tino sighed once more, pulling himself away from his reflection. He didn't have time to dawdle. The Finn needed cover, as it was dangerous to stay out in the open. That, and he still needed to find Berwald. Or Lukas. Or both.
Finland continued putting distance between himself and the kitchen when he passed an ornate door. It wasn't the detailed carvings in the wood that caught his attention, but the noise within. The man stopped, turning his head towards the wooden barricade. He could hear... music? Was that music playing beyond this door?
Tino didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. This set off all sorts of red flags in his mind. A trap, a lure... some sort of trick that the Manor was playing on him. Biting his lip, he wanted to move forward but did not. He had this feeling in his gut that he should go through this door. Open it and explore the room. His head naturally disagreed, pressing him onward to find a less alarming room to take refuge in. However, Tino's gut feeling was generally a good thing in a haunted house and had not failed him yet. Reaching forward as his calloused fingers grazed the brassy knob, he cautiously opened the door and peered inside.
The room had been one that Tino had entered before, intentionally or not. This was the ballroom, still as elaborate and broad as it had been the last time Tino was here. Nothing jumped out at him immediately, so his anxiety decreased, but only a tiny amount. Just because something hadn't immediately lunged at him didn't mean that there weren't dangers in here.
Once the door was open, the fluttering music was only intensified. The sound no longer had to protrude through a thick door and was much more... clear. Tino clamped his teeth together as his eyes still scanned the room. The music was unnerving. A simple little tune that radiated throughout the grand hall, bouncing off the polished wax floor. It sounded like a piano that was very out of tune, but had an added backtrack. Like a recording. The knowledge made Tino want to flee backtrack back to the hall and be on his merry way. The Finnish man moved slowly, reaching for the wood of the door to close the barricade. If he needed to run, he could open it. Right now, locking out whatever was on the outside seemed like a good idea. At the same time though, locking himself in here with the creepy music and the possibility of monsters...
Tino stepped lightly, his hiking boots giving off little clicking noises as he moved. His serrated knife was no longer lounging in his belt. No, he had it in his hand as he cautiously crept deeper into the ballroom. The music was getting louder and looping, until Tino finally figured out what it was. On top of the piano lied a small little music box. The kind with the ballet dancer that spun in a circle. It had to be modified though, to produce a recording instead of the normal tinkling. Regardless, it bothered Tino.
Finland's eyes swept back and forth as he neared the music device. With his free hand, he reached forward gingerly, snapping the box closed and silencing the unnerving tune. Tino waited, tense like a coiled spring as he expected something to jump out. A ghost that haunted the box, or a hidden beast that was tamed only by the atrocious tune. Nothing. Silence, aside from the last note that bounced around the walls until absorbed by the thick red upholstery.
Tino waited like that for a solid minute, until relaxing his guard and turning. At that point though, he heard a sound. A muffled noise. Tino whirled back around, his grip on the knife tight as his knuckles were white. He narrowed his violet eyes, his gaze fluttering about. That noise... it was sloppy. Monsters seemed to be crisp. If they wanted to be heard, the sound was deliberate and calculated. The sound that he had heard was too... too human.
Tino lowered the weapon ever so slightly, swallowed, and carefully called, “Anyone in here?”
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Post by iceland on Aug 12, 2012 23:18:53 GMT -6
They always said that misery loves company. In that case, it had him tied to the neck to be with him. Emil had managed to regain some of his memories through epiphanies. Yet when memories were forced upon him by others, nothing surfaced in his head. From his last misadventures, he learned that he did indeed have a brother named Lukas. It struck him as strange at first, for at first he saw him as nothing more than a stranger. Although sadness was starkly present in the air at that time, he still could not swallow the fact that he was his brother, despite openly accepting it.
However, he learned that he did not want to remember some things. Liechtenstein. She was the girl, the one he used to know and love. To say so simply, he was obsessed on figuring out her identity before their fateful encounter. There were so many countless minutes of him thinking about her--who she was, what she really looked like, and what they would do if they meet. Furthermore, he was adamant about finding her to protect her; he remembered that he had made that promise long ago. When they met, however, it appeared that they were lead into the manor's clever ruse. Neither of the two had recognized each other.
He would never forget that moment he told her that she was the one. There was excitement in his eyes, a tremble in his voice, and a certain softness in his touch when he held her hand. She was exactly who he thought she would be--there was no mistake that it was her. You are the one I used to know/.
Despite the initial confusion, she confirmed that it truly was she. It was a twist of fate; oh, the climax of the Shakespearean drama. How she had forgotten him, he did not know, but when they both remembered, he could remember the resplendence of emotion that overwhelmed the atmosphere.
Alas, a tragedy. A heartbreak. He was already too late. He had lost her to somebody else. Love was only tantalizing him. Reality's bitter zest simpered at him before gracing his senses. It was like dreaming of peace in the middle of the battlefield of war, waking up to see a gun cocked, pointed at your face. It was a crushing emotional moment. The pain felt so real, it almost felt like a physical injury equivalent of being stabbed in the heart. Ever since then, his spirit had not been able to find any excuse to be elated or even slightly pleased.
The boy of powdery white hair would walk down the hallways, his eyes as blank and desolate as the silver of the moon. His steps would be steady, but had the stormy swagger of a military general. There would be anger, his face stiff, lips taut from self-exertion and from self-pity. He didn't mind so much about his life anymore actually. The otherworldly whispering and delicate touches of the unknown didn't bother him as much. Strangely enough, he thought of those ghastly gestures as something welcoming. 'At least someone wants me.', he would think sometimes.
At the moment, he was doing something of similar fashion; he was wandering the halls by himself, heavy with a fume of melancholy within his chest. With hollow eyes, Emil sighed and then leaned against the wall. Hell if he knew where he was or where he was going. If he were to stop for too long however, he would start thinking again, and God would know what stupid things he would do when alone, mentally occupied, and equipped with a sword. At the moment, he was his own worst enemy.
Music.
His eyes became half-lidded. Ah, it was so beautiful. It was a haunting melody fit for a lonely boy like he. Each note flowed like fluid, its highest pitch lifted his heart up, its lowest pitch tantalized him for more. How curious. He felt so at ease, so at peace. For all he knew, he could be dying; he had read somewhere that people can die of extreme sadness which could promote schizophrenia before death. With a lighter spirit, Emil walked towards the direction of the song. It reeled him in like a puppet on invisible strings.
It sounded like... a... music box?
Emil stopped to see the doors open. Drawing back to his senses, Iceland furrowed his brows. Sad he may be, he wasn't quite stupid yet. "I'm not falling for another trick." He seethed through his teeth after recalling his time with Sadik literally in a music box. When he heard a voice, he tensed up and then immediately placed a hand on the hilt of the sword. That voice. That voice. Where? He knew who this person was, he just couldn't remember---"Finland?"
At the doorstep, he stared straight at the figure of who should be Tino. Yes, they had met before and he was a little relieved to see a familiar face. That music... it was promoting his madness. The bit of sanity left in him was crying out for help. If only Emil could bite his pride.
Tino had to be the one, the one to save him.
"What... are you doing here?"
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Untouchable
Offline.
Your head will collapse, but there's nothing in it and you'll ask yourself: Where is my mind?
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Post by Finland (x) on Aug 21, 2012 19:38:42 GMT -6
As the silence settled across the ballroom, Tino's gut churned in apprehension. Nothing. Any nation would have called out at this point. His fingers itched for a pistol as he gradually lowered the music box back to the piano, placing it on the dusted surface without sound. Without the haunting tune to fill the air, the room felt chilled and Tino could sense the goosebumps on his arms and neck without even checking his skin. He was not alone, and the suspense was starting to choke his breath from his lungs.
The moment seemed to last a lifetime before a noise sounded, and not that of a monster. No, it was the voice of a human. No, that wasn't correct either. Humans spoke with the air of naivety. This voice was aged. Young and slightly higher pitched, but aged with countless years. A voice that filled Tino's head with a rush of memories, flooding his vision with images of the silver-haired male before he even stepped forward to reveal himself in the doorway. The knife in Tino's hand clattered noisily on the floor as the violet-eyed man stared.
Tino almost forgot that he had closed those doors. Or, at least, he thought he had. Had the Finn not clicked the latch? Or was this some sort of trick. If it were, the Manor probably would have slated a perfectly helpless Emil into Tino's arms with a knife ready to stab his back. Instead, Emil looked cautious. Cautious and... well... Tino couldn't put his finger on it. Was Emil sad? Upset? His face was pulled into a frown, but not that of a normal calibre. Not the kind that him, or his brother, wore before entering the haunted place.
Finland swallowed, almost unable to do something like twitch his fingers as a second rush of emotion swept the previous carefulness away. Emil. Iceland. The personification of the Nordic island was here. Was alive. Tino had spent many hours worrying about him and his fellow Nordics. Though, Tino had a special spot for the white-haired boy. The two of them had been the youngest of the group, often closer than others presumed. They were the 'babies' during the viking years and had often been left alone when the older three went on raids. Sweden, Denmark, and even Norway had forgotten how much time the two spent together in the past, and Tino had not-so-secretly been worrying over the pale-haired boy. Sure, he worried about every nation, but he knew deep down that they'd not all make it out alive. He prayed with all his heart though, that his family came through. Iceland was no exception to the silent wishes.
And here he was, standing before the Fin. Tino still didn't move, standing as motionless as a statue with the surprise etched onto his face like carvings in stone. There were no wounds on the Icelandic teen, as far as Tino could tell. No bloody scratches, no new scars... Tino's eyes only picked up on the hesitation of the teen, as if he were wondering if Tino was the man that he appeared to be. Tino didn't care though, as the only thought that looped in his own mind was as follows: Emil was alive.
At this point, Tino couldn't hold himself back. “EMIL!” He nearly cried, dropping his rolled up bundle of food and dashing at full speed towards the slightly taller boy. Iceland was here. Safe. Alive. Tino didn't even wait to answer the question that the male had asked seconds before. He couldn't. He had to make sure that this wasn't some cruel illusion plopped down on him from the Manor. He had to touch the Icelander, to ensure that he was real. Without waiting to ask for permission, Tino easily reached the silver-haired boy and threw his arms around him, grasping him in a crushing hug. Real. This was real. Tino held back tears of joy as he embraced the teen, biting his lip as he tried not to look too emotional.
“Oh god, you're okay. You're really okay...”
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Post by iceland on Sept 7, 2012 18:57:23 GMT -6
It was difficult to not be overwhelmed by the sudden gesture. Emil was being embraced by someone familiar, and deep down he was confident he knew this was real and not some fabricated illusion produced by the sadistic nature of the manor. The Icelander stood there and allowed Tino embrace him. It was the warmth, the touch, and the wetness on his shoulder that assured Emil that this was real, that Tino was indeed somebody he used to know.
The act of remembering someone who was once close to you was a strange epiphany. It had a boiling sensation underneath the skin--it was both pleasant and surreal at the same time. His throat dried up as his legs felt ready to be broken down. Emil sunk his face against Tino's shoulder, glad that he could finally do this without a tinge of shame or fear. When his trembling arms reached around Tino's body to hug him back, he could feel the cloud of safety slowly veil over him.
It felt good for someone to show that they care. Emil had always reveled in seeing people act that way towards him. As of late, he had been missing that feeling so desperately due to the previous periods of chaotic loneliness. Emil let out an unsteady breath. At this point, he needed to cling on to every act of words of kindness to restore a little bit of hope into the empty and soulless heart he had.
"I'm... I'm okay." He muttered slowly as slowly broke away from the hug. Emil's nose was slightly pink from the brimming emotions that existed within his chest. Despite the flustered demeanor he seemed to be holding, Emil was more than grateful and relieved to be found. "But... Tino you look so different. Are you... you're okay right?"
He felt like a child again, vulnerable, weak, asking pointless questions when he could've come up with an adult conclusion judging by appearance. Somehow the manor's touch had the ability to inflate Emil's character by making him a tough, solitary man living by instinct. Yet it also had the ability to revert him to the small, delusional, and weak little boy that had existed the moment Emil stepped in the mansion.
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Untouchable
Offline.
Your head will collapse, but there's nothing in it and you'll ask yourself: Where is my mind?
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Post by Finland (x) on Sept 9, 2012 21:01:55 GMT -6
Tino didn't want to let go. He had honestly found him. Found Emil. Gripping the Icelander tightly, Tino couldn't hold back the joy that was physically overflowing in warm salty tears from his eyes. He'd naturally deny the action of crying of course, insisting that he got dust or something in his eyes, but he felt so happy right now. So downright blissful that he allowed himself to forget the Manor and its monsters. Forget the Puppeteer's Well, forget the emotional trauma just to be encased by the fact that Emil, his kin, was alive. The feeling only deepened when he felt the previously stiff nation loosen and melt into the sudden grip that Tino had thrown on him. True, the Fin had been rather hasty and a little too trusting for his own good, but he didn't care. For a moment there, he just revelled in the presence of the Nordic as he smiled into the youngest Nordic's shoulder.
However, such touching reunion couldn't last. Tino wanted it to, but reality leeched the happiness from his mind as he eyes opened, staring up at the ugly, faded wallpaper that barely clung to the hallway wall. As much as the Finlander wanted to remain like this, clutching Emil like he had previously died, he couldn't. Experience in this twisted palace taught Tino that being open was equivalent to being stupid. Standing huddled like this in an open doorway was a good way to get picked off by a roaming creature, or to invite the Manor to try to part them. Tino's suspicious eyes glanced around before he peeled away from Emil, his attention flicking back to the silver-haired boy as his eyes softened once more.
Tino's face cracked into a wide smile when Emil's words grazed his ears. Emil was alive, and looked to be uninjured. Physically that was. Tino would be a fool to believe that the Manor hadn't done something to Emil's naive mind. That was something that Tino would have a hard time bandaging, especially when they were still inside the hell hole. Ah well, he could try if he needed to. Emil was a tough kid. There was a chance that he didn't want any help.
Though, the teen's next statement threw Tino off. It caused his eyes to widen slightly as the smile sagged a tad, the shock registering before Tino could hide it. The lapse only lasted an instant before a fresh grin sprung up on the pale blond's face and a small laugh chimed, the notes of his voice dancing through the still air. “Me? Okay?” Tino grinned once again, sending a wink Emil's way as he lied through his pearly white teeth. “Course! You don't think some haunted house could take me down, right?” Reaching up, Tino gently mussed Iceland's fine hair as he reached around the Nordic, grasping the ornate doorknob to heave the wooden blockade closed. Turning back to Emil, Tino threw his hand behind his head as he chuckled with unease. “Aha, sorry. Having doors open makes me nervous.”
Emil didn't need to know. He didn't need to know about the Well, the monsters that had left Tino unable to sleep at night. No. Tino could lie to Emil to keep the naive boy at peace. Smiling over his way, Tino sighed with relief and felt the need to speak again. “Oh man, I'm just so glad to see you. I've been so worried...”
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Post by iceland on Nov 11, 2012 2:10:08 GMT -6
Tino's response earned him a faint and wry smile from the lad. The smile short-lived, harboring a hint of doubt in the gentle crease that was formed by his lips. Emil had always been very observant and that was a part of his nature he was sure he would always remember. It was a skill, a form of a trade that had been learned after many years of practice, after many years of being cast aside, after many years of being left alone. He chose not to reply and forced himself to pout a bit when his hair was tousled.
Might as well play along to 'lighten' the mood; however, he was very certain that he wasn't going to keep up with this for long. Iceland rubbed the back of neck after feeling a weird sensation. It felt as if it was aching or something because those muscles twitched, becoming taut and uncomfortable. "Oh, yeah understandable." Emil nodded as he tried to not recall any gruesome moments that had to do with doors. "I'm not a big fan of uninvited guests," he added with a bit of an edge between his teeth. "Too many of those already."
Emil's expression became slightly more grim, unable to find Tino's demeanor as an excuse to hide the emotional wreck that was ticking in him. "Yeah..." He said blankly as he vacantly stared at a different direction. There was solace in staring at nothing of importance than darkness. "I've been... taking care of myself. And business."
He placed a hand on head, curling his fingers a bit before running them through his hair. "My memories have still been hazy since the last time we've met. I've been... I don't know.... confused about..." Taking a sideways glance, Emil took a couple of steps back to sit down on a chair of some sort that was conveniently nearby. "About everything I... just..." He paused and then looked at the rather massive black object next to him. A piano.
His chain of thoughts stopped as he nonchalantly reached out to hold the old and tattered pages of a song's score. Emil wasn't well-versed with pianos so the whole thing looked kind of foreign to him. Still, there was something mesmerizing about it, he couldn't let his eyes off. His eyebrows knitted together as he stood up, startled, excited yet slightly frightened. "Tino the words on this score is... it's changing."
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Untouchable
Offline.
Your head will collapse, but there's nothing in it and you'll ask yourself: Where is my mind?
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Post by Finland (x) on Nov 13, 2012 22:51:28 GMT -6
Tino was internally thrilled to see a ghost of a smile brush across the younger Nordic's features. The Fin couldn't deny that he missed seeing his family, but he missed seeing them happy and safe more than anything. Emil didn't appear hurt, but it was difficult to remain joyous in the cursed building. Tino was a rational man; he knew Iceland wouldn't be skipping around tossing flower petals this way and that. The fact that he could have caused the teen to smile, no matter how brief, made him very happy. Though... there was something missing from that tiny show of expression. Something that was hidden beneath the surface. The Finnish nation had not the time to analyze the slight variance in his face before the smile faded back into the pallid mask that Emil always wore.
Another flash of the old Iceland poked through the man's demeanour as he looked upset by the fact that Tino had messed with his hair. Tino had forgotten, but the teen always made that expression when poked, prodded or treated like a kid. It was usually Mathias who did it, but Tino got his fair share of pouts from time to time, despite the fact that the Fin was the second youngest of the group. He grinned as the latch of the door clicked, this time indicating that the doors were shut good and tight this time. He also moved to click the deadbolt into place, sealing the pair within the confines of the room. He hoped that Emil didn't grow suspicious of him though. He was honestly just trying to keep the monsters, ghouls, and everything else out. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to come nose-to-nose with some mutant creature that wanted to rip his face off. Nope nope nope. Apparently Emil wasn't in favour of encountering anything questionable either. Tino smiled at him for his comment, but the intensity was lacking. Too many of them...? So... how many near-death encounters had the teen had? Tino hoped... prayed that it wasn't too many. It was hard enough for the aged nations to deal with. Emil was young... it didn't seem fair to subject him to the same things that the ancients nations had.
Tino tried to look Emil in the eye as he spoke, but the pale-haired boy turned his head to the side in favour of staring into the darkness. Tino traced his gaze slowly, finding nothing there but the absence of light. The Fin bit his lip as the feather-tongued boy continued, muttering that he had taken care of things. Tino wasn't quite sure what he meant by that statement. Was the Fin reading into it more than he should have? Was Emil simply keeping himself safe... or doing other things? And what did he mean 'business'...?
Tino's questions were clarified when Emil elaborated on his troubles. Memories? Tino cast his violet gaze to the marbled floor. Ah... those. So... the Islander was having problems with them. How so? Was he simply forgetting? Having twisted recollections? Tino flicked his eyes back up as the boy collapsed back in a chair, looking exhausted by the notion of simply thinking about his issue. Tino's face twisted with sympathy, so he took a few advancing steps forward up to the teen. Clasping his hand gently on the troubled male's shoulder, Tino quietly spoke in a serious tone.
“Look, Emil... Don't worry about it. I know you feel lost, and that's okay. You're memories will return to you in time, you just have to be patient,” he stressed softly, giving Emil's arm a squeeze. He stayed like that for a moment, watching as Emil reached out to collect the pages. The Fin traced Emil's expression carefully until it suddenly widened, like he saw something he wasn't supposed to. Alarms began to ring in Tino's head as Emil piped in a sentence that unnerved Tino's anxiety. He could hide his state of mind well in casual conversation, but not when a threat showed itself.
Tino snatched the pages out of Emil's hands almost instantaneously, placing them with jittery fingers back on the piano's surface, where they had been before. The whole deal with the music was beginning to dance on raw nerves after dealing with a creepy music box in a broad room. Tino's eyes darted back and forth a few times before he finally deemed the area 'safe' and turned back to Emil, trying to smile as the cold sweat slithered down his back. “Best not to tangle with unnatural things, right?”
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