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Post by Mexico on Aug 6, 2013 0:44:34 GMT -6
It was like having been asleep for a thousand years. Her eyes opened, revealing the blurry picture of a high ceiling in dark shades of color. The light was hard to adjust to. One blink, then another and another, the ceiling was becoming clear. It had once been a bright gold, with delicate and specific carvings of angel dolls and crowns. There were paintings, most of them of the clear blue skies and puffy white clouds. At the center there was a dome adorned with a frame of sea shells. At the center of that dome laid a perfect circle of glass. It was the most beautiful ceiling she had ever seen. Even in its rust, it gave the illusion that the sky could go on forever, high above her head so that she could never touch it.
Where was she exactly?
Mexico carefully sat up. She was surrounded by what seemed to be empty walls in bright darkness. She could barely make out small objects in a far distance. There were a couple of Victorian-esque sofas and tables, all made from wood that seemed too unstable for the scenery. Curtains were drawn, allowing very few light to come in. There was only one that was barely open and a ray of moonlight seemed to touch her skin. Ana María was amazed by how the way the marble floor shined with that small spark of light. She placed her hand over it. It was freezing cold, almost impossible to bear. It was the sort of cold that belonged to ice in the northern most parts of the world. She removed her hand immediately.
When she stood on her feet, was she able to appreciate how truly spacious that place was. In the limited view of her eyes she could see details that were obviously too luxurious for the average person, and too old to be from this century. Was she in some sort of place that ignored the presence of time and the passing of years? Was this one of those places that never aged? And if it was, then how had she ended up here? Mexico tried to recall, as she moved a few steps around the room, but no memory was reliable enough to be considered the truth.
She tried to find a door, or an open window, but all she came across was a mirror. It was an oval ornate mirror that hanged lonely above one of those small tables. Mexico was curious, intrigued by its beauty. She stood in front of it and looked. There were small traces of what seemed like white makeup over her face. Her hair was slightly uncombed and there were few but meaningful scrapes on her cheeks. It was a confusing reflection to look at, especially since the most prominent feature was her eyes. There was something awfully off about them. Almost like they did not belong in her body. Almost like they were lifeless.
Mexico took a step back, slightly frightened by her stare, like it was the first time she was looking at it, completely unaware of what it might be. There was also something missing, something that had been left behind but the girl could not put her finger on just what that was. Another step back and a wider picture of her body appeared. Her clothes seemed old and not the old that resembles the passing of time, but the old that meant it had been worn too long. There were parts of her dress that had terrifying stains on them. They were spills with ridiculous forms and color, and at the end of it it was torn. Torn like something had clinched its jaws in the fabric and ripped it apart.
What was this place?
But most importantly, who was the girl?
Ana María couldn't come to look down at the body in which she walked. She was too scared that the reflection would be compatible with her physical being, so she walked away from the mirror. "¿Qué es-" Her words came to an abrupt stop as she placed her hands softly over her throat. Was that Spanish she spoke? There was Spanish in her thoughts but why? It was a confusion ordeal because her mind was blank. She had no idea who and what and why. There was no memory to rely on and that suddenly made her feel utterly cold.
She gasped, but then she began to listen to a sound. It was a soft, melodic sound that came from somewhere behind her. The girl turned around but nothing short of darkness greeted her. Was she alone? "¿Hola?" She spoke again, but her voice was unfamiliar and unsuited. Mexico felt a chill dance around her spine. No, she could feel it. She was not alone.
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Post by The First Inhabitant on Aug 6, 2013 13:22:11 GMT -6
The inhabitant gazed down at the guest floating before him, the soul of the body now resting somewhere secret. “You know… even for a spirit, I must say that you are quite pathetic,” the reaper spoke quietly, mostly to himself, before he shook his hooded head and leaned his skeletal face near Mexico’s. “Welcome dear guest!” the Inhabitant exclaimed, acting as if he had never insulted Ana María, “Now, I know that must be experiencing an immense amount of confusion at the moment but I must express the importance of my next instructions, for I will not repeat them and I will not remain to be questioned.”
The reaper then swept his arms wide and bowed, “I am called the First Inhabitant and am titled as such for my twin brother and I are the loyal servants to our Master, the Baudeau Manor,” with his introduction aside, the Inhabitant swept his skeleton hands within his large sleeves and began to recite his instructions with sudden boom of his deep voice, “You are dead! Is that not wonderful? You have been freed from your physical form and are now a spirit within my Master, but do not despair if this is not fitting for you, for there is a way to once more live! Once I vanish, you will feel the urge to travel and will come upon the great graveyard of the Baudeau Manor. In the spiritual realm, it is far greater than it would be if you were living and it is your choice to find… well, your grave.”
The First Inhabitant grinned wickedly, not giving the nation a moment to register his words before he continued, “Now, I do realize that your memory is not what it used to be and I’m afraid you may not even know who you are, but…. it’ll come with time!” With that, the reaper began to turn to leave but paused to look back at Ana María to say in parting, “However, I would recommend that you do not take too long to return to your body because, my Master’s great power will begin to… change you if you hesitate. Best of luck and I bid you farewell!” The skeleton ended with a hearty, dark laugh and began to move towards the wall, which he plainly materialized through and disappeared, his laughter echoing down the hall in his wake.
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Post by Mexico on Aug 8, 2013 13:54:55 GMT -6
That's when she saw it. There was a figure, barely recognizable in its dark mist that stood a few steps away from her. Mexico gasped for a short second, but other than that there was no clear signals of fright in her being. There was something about the figure, the way it was dressed, and its bright pale white skull that made her remember a few small and vague recollections that perhaps she had been in this place before, but still she couldn't remember why. The reaper shook his head and leaned so close to her own face that Mexico took a step back as a reflex. It was oddly discomforting to be standing so close to this thing, especially since as far as she was concerned, it was never precisely ecstatic to be in the presence of something that resembled Death so thoroughly. The situation was turning to be more strange that what she had thought.
“Welcome dear guest!” The reaper exclaimed. “Now, I know that must be experiencing an immense amount of confusion at the moment but I must express the importance of my next instructions, for I will not repeat them and I will not remain to be questioned.” Mexico raised an eyebrow. Confused was a vague understatement of the sentiments she was experiencing at the moment. It was not just pure confusion, although that was bad enough on its own, she also felt immensely lost and lonely. She didn't recognize anything about her. Not the language, or the reflection she had previously seen, or even the threads in which she was dressed. There had to be something that would unravel the question of why her memories, if she had them that was, had been taken away.
It was a matter that needed to be addressed but for what was left of the moment, she focused on what the hooded skeleton was saying. Instructions? What sort of instructions and why did she need them? Mexico was about to open her mouth but the creature's last statement sunk in. It was probably wise to listen to it all, before adding any further commenting. “I am called the First Inhabitant and am titled as such for my twin brother and I are the loyal servants to our Master, the Baudeau Manor,” The reaper continued as he bowed. “You are dead! Is that not wonderful? You have been freed from your physical form and are now a spirit within my Master, but do not despair if this is not fitting for you, for there is a way to once more live! Once I vanish, you will feel the urge to travel and will come upon the great graveyard of the Baudeau Manor. In the spiritual realm, it is far greater than it would be if you were living and it is your choice to find… well, your grave.”
The words sank in quicker than what the girl had expected them to. In that moment, when the words you are dead were pronounced, everything else seemed to disappear. She was dead? But how could she when she was standing right there in- She was standing in a room she had never been on before, listening to a creature that embraced this sense of empowerment over her, with instructions and a crude sense of humor. Was it because she was dead that she could no longer remember anything? Mexico raised her hands intending to cover her mouth but they just stood raised and with her knuckles tight. She was completely taken aback, frighten even that what the reaper was saying could be in any way true. Such was her shock than any further instructions seemed to pass by without her acknowledgement. “- do not take too long to return to your body because," "-change you if you hesitate.”
As she realized that there was no further sentences coming her way, Mexico attempted to reach out to the Inhabitant, for there was really nothing she had said that could provide any useful guidance as to how to reverse this. And what did he mean by change? What happened if she hesitated? How much time did she have? "No, wait, hold on!"The words came out on its own, the first bit of English that she had experienced it seemed. She had expected the skeleton to turn around but it just vanished, his laughter echoing in crude humor. Mexico was too stressed to even appreciate the fact that she could speak two languages without realizing it. She felt a huge weight fall on her shoulder and found her knees resting on the floor. Her breathing had thickened and rage seemed to build up inside her. She wanted to scream in frustration because nothing made sense and there was no one to explain.
There was an undeniable need in her to punch something, play around with this violent side, but instead she merely sighed. Because whatever she did would not work on her advantage unless she found her body, wherever that was, before the Manor, or whatever its name was got to it. It seemed things couldn't get worse.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 8, 2013 14:54:49 GMT -6
The siesta Spain woke up from was not the kind he particularly enjoyed. Normally when he wakes, he likes to roll out of bed, stretch, and then slowly wake up before going about his day as usual. Collapsing from exhaustion and fatigue is not usually pleasant, especially when bleeding. Due to this small detail, it was no surprise Spain woke up feeling glued to his hauberk. He cursed himself mentally for coming to the mansion in armor, even if it did help to save him. The next fifteen or so minutes he spent peeling the breastplate and hauberk off of him.
"Note to self, stay out of dark rooms in creepy mansions," he whispered this softly with a slight grimace on his face. Looking around the room he was in, he continued, "I wonder where the others ended up? Hopefully they got out okay before...whatever that thing was showed up."
He couldn't remember very well what exactly had happened. In fact, he mostly just remembered yelling at the others to leave before he was grasped by claws. Wracking his brain to remember who all was with him and why exactly the creature left him alone, he worked at tearing up the thin shirt he had worn under his armor to wrap around his left shoulder and chest. In the process of taking off the Roman armor he had successfully reopened the cuts that rested there. The pain had mostly subsided from it, probably because the left half of his torso was for the most part numb. After he had ripped up his shirt and tied the strips together he wrapped himself up, wincing at the sharp pain that came as he tightened the bandage. Upon finishing this task he pushed himself to his feet and walked out of the room into the hallway outside.
The hallway looked like most he had traveled down in this house. Relatively dark, with a musty air about it that seemed to choke your very soul. The main difference, was the mirror he faced as soon as he stepped out. He gazed at himself and smiled, albeit a sad smile didn’t suit him well. His skin, all over, was stained red with blood, his hair was messier than usual–also caked with blood–and reached almost to his shoulders. That shocked him, as he didn’t think he had been here long enough for his hair to have grown so long. He was barefoot, as his sandals had been lost awhile ago, and his leather war skirt was the only bit of his costume that still graced his body.
”I might just look more like the old Roman now, he never did care much for propriety,” he chuckled softly to himself and continued down the hall.
Given he was alone, he let his smile fade as he worried about his friends. He hoped that they were all alive and well. It had probably been days since he’d seen Romano, and that concerned him very much. The absence of the others also troubled him greatly, and he yearned to see anyone, that he might ask them if they knew how anyone else was doing. Had he been left alone, Spain probably could have wondered aimlessly down the hall lost in thought for hours, or longer. This, however, was clearly not his destiny. For at that moment he saw one of the demons walk through the wall a few yards in front of him.
Stopping stock still he held his breath and watched the monster walk away down the hall, his evil laughter chilling him to the bone. Seldom did these individuals laugh without having tortured someone. With this in his mind he walked down the hall and entered the first door he saw, in hopes of finding the room the demon had just left. Possibly then, he could find someone...preferably someone who still had breath enough to speak with him.
“¿Hola? ¿Alguien aquí?”
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Sadiq Adnan
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Post by Turkey on Aug 16, 2013 17:46:45 GMT -6
Walking down the hallways of this place, Sadiq could only think to himself of Mexico’s death, could only replay the final moments in his head. He never got a chance to tell her it wasn’t her fault; she did what she had to do. This was, as some religions call it, hell, and there seemed to be no way out. If only he had told her his story, perhaps it would have helped her, would have made some difference in how she viewed it. Shaking his head, he tried to push those thoughts away, it wouldn’t help anyone now.
Watching the carpet vanish under his feet as he walked, his thoughts drifted for a bit before settling down again. Did he do the right thing in running from that monster cat that killed Mexico? He could tell that she was dead the moment the cat had bitten down from the crack that he had heard, but hadn’t registered at the time. He could have fought the thing off and gotten her body back to give her a proper burial…but it also could have ended up in both their deaths by those sharp claws and accomplished nothing. He wanted to believe that she would have wanted him to get away, but there was no way to know for sure, it would always been just speculation.
Stopping in his tracks at hearing a sinister laugh getting closer, he moved and opened a door, slipping inside to hide from whatever was making that dark laughter. Sadiq didn’t want to get close to it; that was for sure. He stayed against the door and listened closely, for he knew from past happenings and such, anything that laughed like that shouldn’t be messed with. He only kept an ear on the door, not even bothering to look around the room to make sure there was nothing in the room that would hurt him. After a few moments of silence, he cracked the door open and popped his head out, one hand going to grip the hilt of his sword just in case it was needed. Not seeing anything around, he left the room and closed the door behind him and headed down the hallway in the opposite direction in which the laughing thing traveled. Farther and farther he got from that room until he felt like he had to have walked the entire length of the house at least twice, he heard a voice.
“¿Hola? ¿Alguien aquí?”
Moving against the wall, making sure to not hit any paintings or any lighting fixtures, he listened. That was Spanish but… a male voice? Frowning, he tried to think of who it was…a male voice speaking Spanish, and it was a voice he recognized, but who was it? Was his memory finally failing him? The Turkish man knew that wouldn’t be it, it was just a voice he hasn’t heard in a while. Moving farther in, at least to where he was a few feet from the door, he saw the male speaker and smiled.
Spain! How you doing buddy? who you talking to? He hadn’t looked in the room yet, and he hadn’t heard another voice, but he did move closer to see who he was talking to. After all, whoever it was, they had to be a live to talk, right?
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Post by Mexico on Aug 16, 2013 22:50:59 GMT -6
Mexico took long, deep breaths as she tried to put pieces together. She was a ghost, vanishing by the second as the skeleton in the black robes had implied. If she was a ghost, then why did it feel like her heart was racing at an unmeasurable speed? Was it just the sensation of feeling like she actually had a heart? It was a confusing enigma of feeling remains of vitality while yet being completely empty. Maybe it was because she had just recently perished that she still possessed bits of her humanity. Perhaps does would fade away as she became a memory and as a result trapped between the worlds of the dead and the living. Her memory was torn, but if there was something that she knew was that ghosts could not completely move on because there was something among the living that held them back.
That thought irritated her for a second, because if she was dead the she should be fully dead, in a place like Heaven, or Hell if that was the case. She was almost inclined to accept it, but being just a spectrum limited her ability to come to terms with it, because there was this growing urge inside her that mandated that she found her body. Her body. Where was it? That was the question, was it not? And what did it look like? That glimpse at the mirror had sent a discomforting feeling through her. It was like staring at someone else, she could barely recognize the features or the shapes and forms. How could she find something when she wasn't sure what she was looking for?
The girl began to feel like her breathing shortened, like air kept getting stuck inside her lungs and her throat was closing up. The room was getting smaller and she was getting bigger and she really just wanted to get out of there. Mexico moved around the room, trying to figure out where an exit was and where it lead to. When she finally found a door, among the darkness, she could only come across empty hallways and what seemed like endless options of where to go. Mexico groaned as she leaned against the wall, once back in the room, and slowly let herself fall to the ground. There had to be some clue somewhere as to where she was and how to find what she was looking for.
She closed her eyes for a moment, making as few sounds as possible, trying to concentrate on the atmosphere around her. Then the feeling of not being alone began to creep its way back, and Mexico stood as still as she could. When she heard a fellow voice, and male at that, her whole being stiffed. She would lie if she didn't admit that she was scared. In that predominant darkness, there wasn't much she could distinguish or see. The girl was almost inclined to say something, let whoever was in that place know she was there, but it seemed like the wrong thing to do. What if it was dangerous? But then again, she was dead, so there existed no possible threat that could hurt her.
Mexico stood up very slowly but did not move very far from her position. She opened her mouth to speak, but her words were immediately turned into an unwanted yelp as she heard another voice join the previous one. She was growing more nervous by the moment, hoping that whatever or whomever was there would just leave.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2013 11:32:05 GMT -6
Spain had relaxed, leaning against the door frame as he listened to see if there was someone inside the room. It wasn't exactly easy to tell, as the room was quite large and spacious from what he could tell–likely designed for hosting guests. A person could be heard, just barely, by their breathing. It was rough and uneasy. Probably scared. Most people in this place were scared, including Spain. As such, he decided it would only be fair to add on to his greeting "I am a friend and mean you no harm." For he figured he would like to hear a kind voice if he were scared and in a dark room. There was the off chance that whoever was hiding from him would not believe him, but given most creatures he had met in the mansion did not seem all too interested in pretending to be nice, he had hope that his statement would be found truthful.
A noise down the hall distracted him from his intent listening to the darkness. It sounded like footsteps, which brought Spain's spirits up. If fortune was in his favor, it would be another nation. He couldn't really think of a single nation he wouldn't be happy to see right now. Sure, there are some he enjoys more than others, but given his last encounter with life, anyone would do to cheer him at the moment. But still there was the chance that his luck would continue poorly and the footsteps would belong to a less than friendly individual who would wish him dead. It was because of this he let his fingers gently stroke the gladius resting at his hip as he waited for whoever it was to come into sight.
Spain! How you doing buddy? who you talking to? Ah, it was Turkey! Spain loosened up when he saw the Turk's face. He ran up and engulfed him in a tight hug, wincing only slightly at the pain it brought to his wounds. The pure joy of seeing another person brought him peace. Maybe, just maybe, with the two of them together, they would be able to find whatever was hiding in the dark room.
”Turkey! It’s so good to see you! I’m good, very good. Alive, in one piece, and with good company. I could scarcely be better. Do you know how the others are? Have you seen anyone?” Spain realized he was still hugging his friend and so let go and took a step back to look him over, "What of you? How are you?”
He walked back over to the door, realizing he had failed to answer one of the Turk’s question’s, "I’m not sure who I am talking to, exactly. I just know someone is in there. Something came out through the wall and headed that way, where you came from, actually. So I figured there was someone in the room, sure enough I could hear someone. But they won’t answer me. We should check it out, mi amigo!”
With that, he gently took his friend’s hand and slowly walked into the room. Hopefully, Turkey would follow him. Spain had always known that strength came in numbers. They were already two, and with a third, they would be much safer. Granted, there was the option that whatever was hiding was not friendly...but he didn’t want to think about that at the moment, so pushed it out of his mind. Whoever it was would be a friend, and they would find a way out. They had to. He tugged on Turkey’s hand a little, to encourage him to come in.
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Sadiq Adnan
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We can only survive here, never truely live
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Post by Turkey on Sept 15, 2013 19:23:54 GMT -6
There were certain things that always surprised the Turkish man, and some things he expected, that happened everyday as it was considered normal and it wouldn’t be a normal day without them. Well, that was before the manor where things were surprising him more and more. These surprises almost always ended up being the painful, fearful ones, the painful ones, the ones that caused him to change his mind out many things he had always believed in. This place had come to make him hate surprises; surprises weren’t a good thing anymore. So with the Spaniard hugged him, his first reaction was to flinch with the expectation of pain to sear across his nerves. But it never came. Only a few second had passed before something flicked on in his skull and his muscles relaxed. He wasn’t going to be hurt. A sigh passed his lips as his arms came up and around the man and hugged him tight. When was the last time he had hugged someone? Keeping his breathing even, he focused on the man’s presence and the present. He wouldn’t let himself think about the things that had happened until he had to. There was nowhere safe here, especially not when the monsters could come out of anywhere.
”Turkey! It’s so good to see you! I’m good, very good. Alive, in one piece, and with good company. I could scarcely be better. Do you know how the others are? Have you seen anyone?”
Before he could say anything, he felt the arms drop from around him and he dropped his own. It was a shame really; he could have used the support for what the images that flew his head with that. There was so much he could tell him, but how much should he was the question. Should he retain his usual behavior and keep up the façade that everything was alright in his world, or should he use the opportunity to break down, realease some of what he was feeling to a man he didn’t know that well.
"What of you? How are you?”
“I’ve….. been better. But then who can be great or wonderful in this horror show. I’ve seen quite a few others, how they’re faring now….” And images of his arguments with Feli move through his head and an encounter with a monster with Ukraine and then the incident with Mexico “…I don’t know. I hope they’re alright where ever they are.” He could only try to keep an easy going face and now show how affected he was by that simple question.
"I’m not sure who I am talking to, exactly. I just know someone is in there. Something came out through the wall and headed that way, where you came from, actually. So I figured there was someone in the room, sure enough I could hear someone. But they won’t answer me. We should check it out, mi amigo!”
A hand curled around his own and it felt odd. The flesh was warm and their flesh seemed about the same shade. It confused him a bit to see this. But at feeling the tugging on his hand, he looked back up into those green eyes and nodded. He would follow Spain inside and deal with the potential consequences later. ”Lead the way Spain, I’ve got yar back.”
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Post by Mexico on Sept 25, 2013 16:46:40 GMT -6
It was a sound she had heard before. It belonged to voice she had heard before. This realization came as quite a shock to Ana María, for how could something be so difficult to remember and yet so familiar? She tried to pay attention to the voices, that only seemed to be getting closer. They were both male, and they were both friendly. Well, as far as friendly could go. It wasn't a macabre laugh, like the one that belonged to the skeleton in the black dress. She was tempted to move forward, grace them with her presence, but what would happen if she did? She couldn't remember much, but she knew just enough to know that just because something sounds inviting it doesn't mean that it's safe.
She leaned against the wall. Her bare shoulders immediately felt the cold of the centuries that were portrayed on the wall. It was useless. She kept thinking. She just wanted to get out of there, find her body as the thing had said and then perhaps everything would be better. It was quite frustrating that she didn't know much about the situation or herself for that matter. Her silhouette slowly dropped to the ground. She pressed her legs tightly against her chest and placed her hands in front of her. Who was this person? How could you look for something that she didn't even know about? There had to be a way.
A tear painted her cheeks and the girl whipped it off her face almost instantly. There was no use in crying. Crying wasn't going to immediately lead her to her body. There was no magical key or light that would appear out of nowhere and be like "hey, follow me". This wasn't a fairy tale, this was, unfortunately, reality. Besides, if she were to cry, she knew that there was nothing in this absolute silence that would be able to muffle her sobs.
Instead, she kept listening.
"I’m not sure who I am talking to, exactly. I just know someone is in there. Something came out through the wall and headed that way, where you came from, actually. So I figured there was someone in the room, sure enough I could hear someone. But they won’t answer me. We should check it out, mi amigo!”
Mi amigo,
”Lead the way Spain, I’ve got yar back.”
Spain,
There was an odd feeling building inside of the girl. Something about those words. Mi amigo, Spanish by default, and Spain that made her consider that perhaps emitting a sound wouldn't be the worst thing. There was this memory building too, about once upon a time many centuries ago. She had heard the name before, or at least she thought she had. Mexico stood up, her knees were a bit weak, and it was like she was shaking. When she managed to stabilized herself, she stepped into the moonlight, like a rising God from mythology. It was really taking a chance, for there was nothing that could assure her that these people wouldn't harm her. But then again, she realized, if she was dead there was nothing that they could do to her. With a deep breath she muttered, "Hola." and that was that.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2013 23:56:41 GMT -6
The Spaniard’s heart raced ever so slightly as he listened to the Turk. Although he was not the most intuitive of people, in fact he was one of the least, he decided his friend was not telling him all there was to tell. Then again, not many people told all in this place, at least from what Antonio could tell. Even he himself did not tell all. Of course, he normally didn’t, but here he felt inclined to scarcely talk at all for fear of letting people know that the situation was getting under his skin. Because of this, when Turkey finished his piece, he just nodded his agreement and let the topic die away. If his friend wanted to tell him something, he would. But in the mean time, Spain saw no cause to pressure him.
A firm expression graced his face as Spain stepped into the darkness. He was a determined soul, and since he had stepped into the room, he would not leave until he found whoever had made the noise therein. In this place it could be a child or the devil himself, so he tried his hardest to be completely present to the situation at hand. He became aware that he was still holding Turkey’s hand, but this time he didn’t cease the contact. The companionship was good, and it made him feel safer.
”Lead the way Spain, I’ve got yar back.”
A smile, ever so slight, graced Antonio’s face at those words as he stepped further into the room. He stood tall, and still managed to look serious even with the grin, something he probably couldn’t have managed elsewhere. The room around him was, from what he could tell in the moonlight, a sight to behold. It was huge, and spacious. Closing his eyes he briefly imaged it brilliantly lighted and filled with all of his fellow nations dressed in their costumes dancing, laughing, and socializing. All of his friends were interacting, and it was joyful. This was how he had imaged the party. And then a shadow fell over his imagination and he saw monsters and demons rushing through the doors around the room and terrorizing everyone. A chill embraced him, his eyes shot open, his hand tightened around Turkey’s, and he shivered violently.
”What have we gotten ourselves into, compañero?” His voice was barely more than a whisper as he let the words slip out of his mouth. He had to stay hopeful, for Turkey’s sake, and yet he felt he could not fool him even if he tried. It seemed to Antonio that even if he came across as perfectly fine, Turkey would know better than to believe it. And so, he let the words out along with a shaky sigh. Would they get out of this one? Just an innocent costume party, or so they thought, would change their lives forever. Could they ever truly be the same? He shook his head sharply. He couldn’t think like that. Even if his companion knew he wasn’t alright, he wouldn’t let anyone else, especially himself, know it. Forcing himself back into reality he was just about to ask Turkey how he thought they should search the hall when a voice came from his right grasped his full attention.
"Hola."
Spanish. Without thinking Spain began sifting through countries that spoke Spanish: Panama, Argentina, Chile, Ecuador, Costa Rica, Peru, Mexico, Venez- Mexico... The voice was female, and it certainly sounded like Mexico. He looked over where the voice came from. Sure enough, there, stepping into view, was Mexico, with the moon dancing around her in a most eerie fashion. It took a minute for the sight to sink in to his brain and process. Even after it all was clear to him, something kept him from running up to her. He simply couldn’t bring himself to leave Turkey’s side. Something about Mexico, quite possibly her appearance in general, frightened him enough to make him hesitant to drift away from his friend, to the point where his grip tightened ever more on Turkey’s hand. Perhaps just this once, greeting from a distance would be acceptable and preferable.
“Niña mio...venir aquí.” He smiled and held out his free arm to welcome her forward as he took a step forward. Mexico was definitely not one of the people Spain had considered meeting soon, and as he had never seen her in this state he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with her. With good fortune, she would help in that with her response to his salutation.
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Sadiq Adnan
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Bisexual.
30.
Played by Silv.
Offline.
We can only survive here, never truely live
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Post by Turkey on Oct 30, 2013 16:19:21 GMT -6
Fight after fight, he had always endured, persevered. He had accepted each fight, understanding the goals and the possible consequences. Unfortunately, he often could not see even half the possibilities. Like this for instant. Who would have thought that a simple, fun Halloween party would have turned into something so horrible, so mentally scaring, that he doubted any one could see a way out, or even a glimmer of hope. Sadiq couldn't; not anymore. There was almost no reason to keep fighting. His friends had died and vanished in front of him. The atmosphere was pushing him into a melancholy of gray proportions. His real hope left was that his little brother had listened and not attended the party this year.
"What have we gotten ourselves into, compañero?"
He didn’t let himself hear the tone of the voice, the questioning pitch and the almost terror that rang in it. Or that could have just been Sadiq himself trying to avoid his own. It was never safe to tread where a living skeleton had just crossed. But the question that had fallen from the Spaniard’s lips still hung in the air. How could he answer that, given what the man believed in?
"Hell Spain. We're in hell."
It didn't matter what room they entered, this whole place was a torture chamber designed because the most pain and fear and hopelessness it could. The creatures seemed to thrive on their lingering agony; watching the writhe in pain. Along with the shedding of blood to feed the monsters. That's all they truly were to the spirits and monsters, just cattle. But what would the harvesters do with the stock vanished the way of the graveyard? There was no fire and brimstone like the classic depictions and descriptions of Hell showed, but this was still it.
"Hola."
He froze from that word, with the feminine voice. The word along was not enough to make him freeze, but it was the owner of the voice. “this place really does like to mess with your head, bring back your worst memories to haunt you at the worst time, mocking the dead to bring your defenses down….” Swinging his head around to see what spoke, the color drained from his tan face as his feet stepped back a few paces without him noticing. Sadiq could only stare at the figure in front of them that looked at them so innocently, as innocent as a child.
“Niña mio...venir aquí.”
“It can’t be, you can’t be…I watched as you… you’re not real, you can’t be real.”
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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 Nov 16, 2013 22:21:46 GMT -6
Niña mía,
He looked strangely familiar. Ana María watched him closely, her eyes searching him up and down. His hair was a shade softer than hers and his eyes were a dull Emerald green that looked so European. His accent was off and there was something about him that made her keep his distance. Yet, in the deepest part of herself, she felt a sort of bond she didn't recognize. He spoke in a way that made her feel like she belonged to him, like once upon a time she had sit up and rolled over in command. She was sure she had seen him before, but in his attire it was difficult for her to want to approach him.
venid aquí...
She almost took a step toward him, but the second man that spoke, with an accent that she knew she would never be able to be true to and therefore gave her an air of distance, made her stop.
You are not real.
It had not occurred to her, until that very moment, that the older much taller man was right. She was not real. She looked down at her body, or at the least the illusion of a body that helped her still be part of a world. Her body, her name, her features, nothing was real. She was an spectrum. A ghost. Floating through the air with no purpose. Mexico took a step back. Even though she knew his words were true, they still hurt. Sniffling, she looked at them both.
You talk like we have met before, but I really do not know who you are," she admitted.
It was a scary and frustrating feeling. It was as though she was trapped in another country, another world, where everyone acted and spoke in a manner that was entirely new and strange to her. Both man looked at her expectantly. They wanted something from her that she couldn't give them. She felt cornered by her own situation. If she was dead how could they see her? It was suffocating their words and their impact on her. She was not real, she remembered. So it didn't matter whether she found her body or not. She was not real.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2014 0:33:38 GMT -6
Hell...yes. This place could certainly fall into that description easily. But Spain refused to think there was no way out. Purgatory, perhaps. On occasion he had heart purgatory described as “hell, with a back door.” So perhaps that’s where they were. Then again, they would still have to all be dead. He did not recall dying, nor did he know how one could die after death. So perhaps it was, indeed, hell, and they had been tricked into wandering into its recesses. It could work. They just had to find their way out...which was looking less and less likely as the time passed by. He let the matter rest in his mind. All that mattered was getting out, getting his current company out, and convincing Mexico to go with them.
“It can’t be, you can’t be…I watched as you… you’re not real, you can’t be real.”
Turning at the Turk who had pulled away from his kin, he glared, not really in an angry way, but in a perplexed. Of course she had to be real. She was there, wasn’t she? Looking back at the girl, and examining her, he realized what Turkey had meant. She shimmered in the moonlight, and had an air about her that saddened his heart. She had died. That was what Turkey must have meant, when he spoke of watching her. It also explained her clothes looking so tattered, and the hesitation he previously had been unable to place about approaching her. But he refused to back away in the same manner that his companion had.
”Of course she is real,” he tried to make his voice as comforting as possible, and he chose his words carefully, “she is just...shall we say...lost...”
You talk like we have met before, but I really do not know who you are," she admitted.
He blinked. She had no memory of him...how strange. Was it that no one remembered anything once they died in the Manor? Surely there had to be a way to regain the memory. For losing all recollection of a previous life would be a blessing here, in Spain’s opinion. He would no longer be concerned for his friends, or remember a happier time. This would be all he knew. And that, certainly, would make living in this Hell, as Turkey dubbed it, ever so much easier. The Manor did not want them to have any sense of peace. So, naturally, there would be a way to get one's memory back. That way it could torture you more. For this reason Spain hesitated. But not for long. He couldn’t keep his tongue and soon spoke out, trying to trigger her into remembering him.
”Mi niña, you do not remember me? You used to live under my roof; we are family. I am Spain,” he paused for a moment, ”Antonio, to you. You have no recollection of me, Mexico?”
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Sadiq Adnan
Administrator
Bisexual.
30.
Played by Silv.
Offline.
We can only survive here, never truely live
|
Post by Turkey on Jan 20, 2014 19:48:01 GMT -6
“Of course she is real, she is just...shall we say...lost...”
Those words were meant to comfort, to convince them all that things we alright, but how could he believe it. Things that were lost could be found, tangible objects that could be held, felt, had weight and a firm presence in the world to show it was there. This though… he didn’t understand it. Well, he did some; his own culture stated that if a body wasn’t prepared correctly, the spirit would wander. Perhaps this is what was happening. He didn’t know about her own burial rituals, or if they would even apply in this place, but it seemed like she was barred from entering the Afterworld, forced to be stuck forever in this house, this realm; the heavens forever just out of reach. If this was the cause, it was his fault that she was stuck like this, stuck in this world, forever to wander these halls. He had witnessed her death and had done nothing to stop it. He wasn’t even brave enough to recover the body. Never mind that if he had tried, he could have gotten himself killed in the process.
He couldn’t hear anything Mexico said in return, couldn’t hear anything Spain said back to her. He could only stare at her. His chest was heavy with grief and tight, ever so tight. Trying to breath was hard for him. Sadiq could only see the way her translucent body shimmered in the pale moonlight, the wooden paneling glimmering as it reflected and refracted off the chandeliers, visible to his eyes. He couldn’t tell what color her dress had been, couldn’t tell that her natural skin color was supposed to be that of a rich mocha it had, shining with the vitality of life and not because the moon reflected off of it while passing through it. Part of him knew that she would never dance again, never have that dress twirl and the color blend together in one beautiful sight.
Shaking his head, his eyes moved from frightened to a look of sorrow. He hadn’t meant for it to turn out like this; he never wanted this to happen. As tears threatened to fall, he promised himself. No more. No more would anyone die in his presence. He would protect them, shelter them. He would keep them from having to experience that eternal silence that never came to most Nations. There was only one thing he could do now; he needed to figure out how he could make it up to her. How could he ever get her forgiveness for not being able to protect her? How could he ever make it up to her that she would never feel the warm sun light on her skin? How could he ever apologize to her for the fact that gentle touch of the wind after a harsh rainfall was lost to her forever?
Swallowing the lump in his throat and forcing the muscles in his chest to relax, he pushed himself off the wall and walked slowly forward. There was no hesitation in his steps, just a slow pace of muscles fighting though a fog that seemed to overtake the room. Once he was close enough, Sadiq bent down on one knee and bent bowed his head, hands folded over that bended knee. The pose was that of a gentleman about to ask someone who was out of his league for a dance, or that of one subservient to another showing they knew their place when asking for something. In fact, there was something he wanted to ask. He could only hope she would grant him what he wanted even though deep down he knew he didn’t deserve it.
“Forgive me.”
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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 Mar 5, 2014 15:00:52 GMT -6
Ana María began to take a step back away from the two men in front of her. Their movements were making her uncomfortable. She was unsure of their intentions and though they had stated they clearly knew her, she had no recollection of who they where. What if they were just playing games with her? The girl was terrified they might do something to her. Not that it would have mattered, Ana María allowed the dark thought to pass through. She was dead anyway. She had been dead for God knew how long and nothing they could hurt her.
She suddenly had an urge to touch both men, to see if she could feel their bodies through the paleness of her skin, to grab them and pinch them and know that they could feel her as well. Except she knew that such hope was possibly not true and to do so would only incite more disappointment. Instead she refrained from moving and watched what they did next. She looked at the shorter of the two men. His presence had caused a mayor impact in her mind. His face was something she could only barely begin to recall. Like a memory from an eternity ago. But the men looked young and so it was foolish to think that there was more to their history than just this moment.
”Mi niña, you do not remember me? You used to live under my roof; we are family. I am Spain,” the men paused for a moment, ”Antonio, to you. You have no recollection of me, Mexico?”
His words of affection and the expression upon his face, Ana María didn't know what to make of it. She took another step back, far longer this time. She had her arms wrapped around herself, as a mean for protection while she tried to figure out what to think. Spain. The word kept bouncing around the mind, triggering bits and pieces of her own life.
"España," But before her words could get any further, she was distracted by the other men, the one who bend down on one knee and bowed his head. The one who gazed at her with a sort of pain that she couldn't describe. His sudden movement had her captivated. Why would he bow down to her? Why did she symbolize that it had brought up such action? And then his words said it all.
"Forgive me."
And it all made sense. In a way at least. Ana María's eyes widened. Her body stiffen as she looked down at the men with the white mask who kept his hands folded over his bended knee. "I didn't just die, did I?" She looked at him firmly. Then she looked up at the men with the Spanish accent, so different and yet so much like her own. "What are you doing here? What am I doing here?" She looked up at the ceiling, and the small rays of moonlight that barely lit the ballroom. It was such a pain not to remember. "What is this?"
Why was her hair stained with blood and her dress torn? Why was there small traces of makeup on her face and dirt marks? Why was she standing in the dark of a place she had never seen with a man bowing to her and another claiming she lived under his roof? She was getting tired of no answers, getting tired of having small pieces of broken memories that didn't even work to her advantage. It was driving every small ounce of sanity crazy. She wanted to know who she was and where her body was and just be alive again. More than anything she didn't want to be dead. "Who am I?"
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Sadiq Adnan
Administrator
Bisexual.
30.
Played by Silv.
Offline.
We can only survive here, never truely live
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Post by Turkey on Mar 28, 2014 15:56:47 GMT -6
She didn’t remember. Though he shouldn’t really have been surprised, who would what to remember this place or all the horrible things they had all been through while here? Though it would have been good for her sakes if she could have remembered who she was or anything about herself.
I didn’t just die, did I?
How could he answer that, there was nothing he could have done to prevent it He knew he shouldn’t be blaming himself for it, there was nothing he could do. He knew it within him, but something was keeping him from getting past this.
“What are you doing here? What am I doing here? What is this? Who am I?"
He wondered if Spain would answer the past about her, Sadiq knew nothing of her past, only what he had picked up here in the manor. If only someone like Romania were here, or even Hungary. They could at least have more to empathize with her. He was never very good dealing with emotions, and this just proved it. Spain would be better to deal with it, perhaps he should just tell his part and get out of here, go find somewhere to clear his head, get himself back to normal. He was acting differently, he could tell. But he hated the thought of leaving this woman how she was, without aid and without the knowledge needed to help her out.
“What I know is that you are Mexico, or well, the Personification of Mexico. This man is the Personification of Spain and I am Turkey. I know you died in my presence as we were talking. A cat monster jumped out of the closet and snapped your neck before dragging you off with it. There was nothing I could do.”
Sadiq didn’t feel any tears anymore for her, he really didn’t know her all that well, and while yes, it was sad, it didn’t bother him. Perhaps his heart was growing harder, shutting some things out to help keep him more mentally and emotionally stable. It was one of his defense mechanisms that had worked in the past and hopefully it would continue to work now. It had just been too much on him now. All the stress he had been under, the mental fight he had been putting up to keep from slipping, to keep his violent side from showing up again. He had cared for someone before, had tried to protect her and had ended up nearly killed in the process. No, he didn’t regret it, but he couldn’t keep doing that. He couldn’t keep being the hero, and honestly, there was no way right not to be a hero.
“What did the skeleton you mentioned say to you? It could be important? It’s the only clue we might have currently…. “ He didn’t want to say there was no way to get her back, she was dead, that much was obvious, so there was nothing that could be done, no way to help her.
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