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Post by Deleted on Jul 24, 2013 13:40:40 GMT -6
Slowly the Kiwi shuffled into the kitchen, his feet dragging behind him as he panted in short sharp intervals. The boy was horribly tired, his feet burning and his knees scraped from his frantic flight from the creature down the hallway. He had not even seen what it was, yet something about it sent chills down his back and a flutter in his gut. Never was that a good thing, if he had learned anything in all his years it was that his gut was an almighty being that had the foresight of a time traveler. Whatever the creature out in the hallway was it was something frightful enough that he didn't want to go near it for now. Something was horribly wrong, that was clear.
He sat back against the cabinet and caught his breath, his palms pressed to the floor and his fingers splayed out to steady himself. "...Ah....haha....ha..." the soft chuckles started out slow, his brain mulling over what had just happened and sorting it into some odd sense. He had run like a frightened child from something that he didn't even know! If anyone ever knew they would never let him live it down, he had nearly wet his pants! Not even nearly, but it made great storytelling.
Soon he broke into loud guffaws that rang around the empty kitchen and out into the hallway, tears beading up in the corners of his eyes as he made his way back to his feet and started to look about. He was never very proficient in horror games, there was always an easy way out that the hero overlooked. One that he would most certainly take advantage of.
The Kiwi slowly started to scurry about, poking through the various cabinets and drawers to see what there was of use. Food was there, good food, packaged food, ugh...American food. He pulled out a large box of animal crackers and tore it open with his teeth, turning it over to pour it on the floor. The gentle scent of vanilla spiked the air and he flopped back down onto his bum to arrange the various beasts into piles, something interesting to do while he relaxed for a moment.
With a little hum he bit off the head of a kangaroo, oblivious to the footsteps drawing closer.
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Hamish Kirkland
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Post by Scotland on Jan 18, 2014 1:14:16 GMT -6
Dark presences lurked around the corners making the floorboards creak and making the mind form illusions of death before them. Where there wasn’t a monster, waiting in silence as droll flowed from their parted lips a sense of hunger over powering them, a spirit corrupted by the ever present darkness stood ready to possess the living. Normally the spirits encountered seemed to have lost their way to the light and were lost in an endless search but the spirits within the manor were different, they loathed living flesh as they craved it for themselves. Darkness and hopelessness robbed the curious behavior from the once almost childish beings leaving nothing but disgusting feelings behind. The same darkness that took the innocence of the dead slowly worked away at the nations making their negative feelings surface and be acted upon.
Death seemed to be an endless fear for many of the nations causing them to hide from the creatures that prowled the halls waiting to cut their lives short. Such a cowardly way to survive in Hamish’s eyes. They were nations, death would probably take them all one day but they all out lived all that they had loved leaving them with the same few nations century after century. Most the living nations didn’t seem to care for each other, just like the lost spirits in the manor they only cared for their own needs, willing to step on others if it meant being a step closer to what some believed to be success.
Not only being part of the United Kingdom separated Hamish from the rest of the nations but being a piece of an island located north of most land masses the Scot was forced to be cut from the rest of the world. The workings of other nations were unknown to him unless Arthur decided to keep him updated on others. Trusting anyone outside of his brothers was uncommon; Francis always seemed to be the only acceptation to the rule of only trusting family. Despite the colonies having been almost children to Arthur in his eyes the ginger always found himself unsure of how to act toward the young colonies. Part of him wanted to baby the young nations but they weren’t his, all were the children of his younger brother giving him little right to act as a father to them. With how things were Hamish couldn’t trust the other nations anymore than he could trust the creatures lurking around the hall and yet fear didn’t come to him. Being a child during the time of the ancients Hamish had been robbed of the fear of death that haunted the youth. Nations fell, Hamish stood on his land fighting off Roman and Nordic alike. Only one brother, Michael, seemed to always be a standard in his life while the others were taken, freed, then attacked him for his land. It wasn’t something that made him trust his own.
Time didn’t flow as it did normally making Hamish unsure of how long he had been in the manor or when he stopped fearing what hid around the corner. What was the point of fearing for a life he would throw into the flames if that meant the survival of his family? What a silly notion it was to fear something he would offer up.
Moving through the halls without glancing about for signs of life the tip of the scythe ran against the wall cutting into the wallpaper making it peel away from the wall adding a ruined look to the perfect appearance. How it angered him to see the perfection in a place what should be soaked in the blood of the victims. It was as if the manor was trying to trick them into believing everything was fine.
Sound from the kitchen caught the attention of Hamish making his movements come to a halt. The movements weren’t that of one of the monsters, no these movements were too light as if a frightened animal. Perhaps a child? They didn’t appear to be the sounds of someone the size of him. "...Ah....haha....ha..." he heard awkward laughter coming from within the kitchen. It was a nation that was for sure but his mind couldn’t identify the voice with so little to use as reference.
Keeping his movements small Hamish moved into the kitchen careful not to be spotted as the burnet moved around searching the kitchen. The scythe rested upon his shoulder still not giving any trouble for the careful moves as the ginger practically danced in the nation’s blind spot. Moving toward the counter the male raised himself on top of the surface and crotched at the end. Grinning from ear to ear the man looked like something from a horror story. “Westley,” a heavily accented voice whispered against the pale ear. The whisper was followed by a childish life as the Scot remained perched on the edge scythe over his shoulder.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 27, 2014 10:46:07 GMT -6
The Kiwi boy sat quietly, a cracker in his mouth as he nibbled away on the end of it slowly, savoring the taste of vanilla crunchy goodness. His piles were nearly complete, the foil packaging having only the broken little crumbs that no longer were able to be told from one animal to the next. Those would be left for last, but for now he had to make the horribly complex decision of which group to eat first. The kangaroos he had already started on, but the lions just looked so tempting to consume. Stupid large cats, eating them would make him feel far better. Didn't they eat cats in China? Somewhere in that area of the continent? He would have to find out more about it once he got out, who wouldn't want to eat the demonic creature that they hated the most?
Grudgingly the boy scooped up the feline crackers and placed them back into the foil bag, instead moving to eat one of the crocodiles as he moved the sheep around the floor with the tips of his fingers. He made them prance, imagining them all happily playing together in a field while he bleated sound effects rather happily around the cracker he was chewing on. For just a moment he had forgotten where he was, and the dangers that he had just escaped and awaited him. He was a child again without any worry of anything other than what Kyle put in the shepherd's pie, or Arthur catching him in the act of something naughty. The corners of his lips twitched with a gentle smile as he fondly played with the crackers, a softness overtaking his gaze as he added in a few horses to the game.
He quickly became so involved in his little game that he hardly noticed the Scottish vulture perched up above him until his name was spoken. The boy snapped right to attention, the crackers scattering in all sorts of directions as he leaped to his feet and spun quickly to face him. His eyes were narrowed into emerald slits as he took up a defensive stance, taking only a moment to assess the threat. "Scotland?" he chirped, almost cheerily if not for the hardened face that he showed while his heart slammed into his rib cage. "You really shouldn't...do that!" The boy had without warning punched out with his fist, his cheeks puffed up with air as he sulked a little at having been caught with his guard down. There was a part of himself that wanted to run to him and hug him tight, burying his face into the other's chest to feel safe. Yet the formal use of the other's country name made it clear, he was not at home, or at Arthur's...it was still a formal setting and he had to be polite. He was a country all by himself now, there was a reputation that he had to keep up.
"You look silly like that...awfully silly..." he chuckled pleasantly, a soft smile overtaking the frustrated pout on his lips as he struck out at the other once again without warning. He did not really wish to injure the other, but it was still horribly wrong of him to have frightened him so. It was a small retaliation in his mind. "Now...I have to fix all of this...you made me muss it up..." The Kiwi dropped down onto his bottom and started to reorganize his cracker piles, kneeling awkwardly on the floor with his filthy bare feet behind himself. "Care for a snack?" he asked the elder, offering him the bag where he kept the feline crackers imprisoned. Better the Scott to eat them than himself, the thought of eating one made his stomach churn. "How did you get here? Did you see Mum?"
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Hamish Kirkland
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Post by Scotland on Mar 13, 2014 17:28:52 GMT -6
Who knew how when in a manor filled of death the Scot would still manage to want to play games and scare those around him. Maybe he wasn’t really the sanest nation anymore, well that was if you could have ever called the man sane. He was sure Rome would disagree that his sanity was ever present but that didn’t matter now. The manor could be made into a fun house if that’s what you tried to make it, death everywhere made it a game of survival if you looked past the gruesome deaths that the nations were met with. Thus far Hamish had yet to witness these deaths making the manor nothing more than a boring exploring game. He would have to provide entertainment for himself in one way or another. Why not going around scaring Arthur’s brats? That did always manage to put a smile on his face. It was almost as good as messing with the queen brat himself.
The way the young nation focused on which crackers he would stuff into his mouth next made it easy to creep into the room and take his spot on the counter. It was as if he could have stomped through the room unnoticed. Years of trying to avoid his brothers had come in handy; he loved them all but when in a house with all of them it caused him to wish to avoid them all. The Kirkland family wasn’t always the most pleasant bunch to have in a single room at any given time. It really was astonishing how simple minded the young nation could be when he could die at any moment. Who was to say that another nation wouldn’t be the one to lob his head off as if he were nothing but a straw mannequin to practice on. Maybe the young nation didn’t know of the death surrounding them in the house. It was hard to judge if they knew or simple didn’t care if they were the next to die in the madness. In the end Hamish couldn’t judge them as he had turned this house into a game to fight away his boredom. In the end they weren’t that different. Either way they both knew pain that Arthur had caused them but they did lead to different lives from it.
Not expecting more than a scream the punch came as a shock causing his hands to release the scythe to hold his face in pain. This wasn’t how it was going to end. No little kid was going to end things with just a punch to the face over being so foolish to not notice his surroundings. Jumping forward he lunged to take the short male to the floor and plan to give him a punch or two before knee colliding with his stomach. A punch was never returned with a simple punched. Hamish would make other feel sorry for touching him even if he deserved the harsh treatment. Something made Hamish stop from bringing harm to the male and instead pulled them against his chest giving them a hard ruffle to the hair but nothing more. He shouldn’t attach children in a place like this. This child was family and in the end they didn’t have much else to cling to in the manor so shoving them away would be too harsh. Westley had to be home sick in this endless hellhole.
Seeing the other drop to pick back up he crackers as if to still eat them Hamish grabbed him and pulled the Kiwi back to his feet. “Dinnae eat that!” His voice was nearly a shriek seeing that his nephew was even bothering to clean the cookies from the floor. Who knew if this floor was coated in aged blood caked on from endless deaths or even had been cleaned in years. “Ah juist traivelt in 'ere lik' a'body else cuid. Aye a've seen Arthur. Nearly met mah end cheers tae him.” It sounded joking but in the end it was serious.
Looking over the New Zealander for a moment Hamish had to wonder if the children Arthur cared for even really gave a damn about him. It was rare that he would be allowed to care for them and when he did often led to spoiling the nations and teaching them things that his brother surely would never approve of. The life under Arthur’s thumb was dull for all of them so what harm was it that once in a while he left a mess through his brother’s home and had nations running amuck? They all knew to respect the ginger or he’d give them a smack but despite that he often just wished the children to have fun. "How come you've bin?"
((I'm so sorry about taking forever to do this! I'm really sorry about that!))
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