Arthur Kirkland
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Played by Hat.
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Post by England on Nov 22, 2013 7:10:51 GMT -6
The temperatures in the Manor had dropped considerably for the night. It didn't help that having all the water on the lower levels seemed to sap all sense of warmth from the atmosphere. Arthur knew that spending another night in frigid conditions would cause him issues. His body wasn't healing like it should, he felt hunger pangs from not eating regularly, and trying to stay awake for as long as he had was taking a toll on him. Even if there was a danger in seeking out the comforts his body craved it was seeming worthwhile due to the benefits it would give him once he had rested and eaten a decent meal. The trick was in finding a suitable location to handle those needs.
After getting a good grasp of the upper levels the Englishman decided to enter the parlour room with its unsettling masculine portrait. Its presence didn't bother him much. The portrait wasn't anything he'd hang in his own home -- a little on the severe side -- though it was similar to many that he'd seen displayed in the castles of his monarchs in the past. He glanced to the portrait as he walked past it, green eyes squinting at the foreign face. It seemed that it could come to life at any time. If it did so, then it certainly wasn't going to get an exciting show out of Arthur.
Having the fireplace here was his primary interest in the room. Not only would it provide warmth for him, the heat from those flames would stave off exposure. The last thing Arthur wanted was to end up falling ill from not taking the proper precautions that humans were saddled with. He stripped off his jacket to hang it from the edge of the mantle, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. The wood in the fireplace was old and coated with dust. Using his magic to spark a fire would have been easy. Arthur decided against such a wasteful use of his power. Especially when he had a lighter tucked away in an inside pocket for those rare occasions that the Englishman forgot his promise to give up smoking and indulged in that old, bad habit.
Finding fresh wood and kindling wasn't difficult. Since his hosts here had so far proven to be lacking in courtesy towards him as a guest, the Englishman didn't bother holding himself to the rules of decorum. So breaking a nearby chair into pieces by bashing it against the fireplace's stones didn't cause a ripple of guilt in him. Arthur's casual destruction of the furniture gave him everything that he needed to start a fire. The wood was positioned, and the aged fabric of the upholstery was a good starter for burning. Alcohol from one of the bottles in the room was the fuel to get that blaze going strongly, even if Arthur suspected he might have singed his eyebrows in the process.
Soon the room was bathed in a pale, warm glow of light. The shadows that danced in the room were not as threatening to him with their reflections cast upon the wall far behind him. Arthur let the warmth of that fire heat up his skin, palms shown to the licking flames that he briskly rubbed together to get better feeling into the lengths of his fingers again. This was at least one part of his misery put to rest. Obtaining food and getting a chance to sleep would be next. There were plenty of places inside where he could probably wedge himself in to avoid notice from any creatures. It would be just like it was when he was a child hiding beneath brambles or in bushes to sleep without attracting any predators.
Arthur positioned himself to sit in front of the fireplace, back pressed against the warming stones. He didn't want to be vulnerable to anything that could sneak upon him. The Englishman watched the flickering shadows in the room with hooded eyes, lost in his thoughts. As often as the longing to know what it was like to live a human life free of longevity and the responsibilities of a nation had crossed his mind, Arthur was not enjoying this preview of their experiences. He had never known just how deeply needy humans were. He hated feeling weak. Despised this constant ache in his body that made his bones hurt and his blood feel frozen and his head throb painfully with each beat of his heart. Being a human was sounding far less enticing.
There was a sound of movement out in the hallway that his ears easily detected in the silence. The creaking of wooden boards betraying the presence of a potential intruder just outside. Arthur wasn't one for taking chances when every sound or shadow could accompany a threat. He reached for his weapon, the metal of his gun cold in his hands as the Englishman gripped it with them to take aim in the direction of the room's door. The biting cold of his eyes was harsher than the threat of that barrel, squinted as they were to seek any sign that he should open fire before giving an enemy a chance to overwhelm him. Arthur was rigid as he watched the door crack open, waiting with baited breath.
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Post by America on Nov 23, 2013 17:25:06 GMT -6
It was a frequent activity of Alfred's to come to the edge of the stairs and peer down at the water that flooded the first and second floors. Maybe he hoped that if he lingered around long enough, the water would start to sink and they would be able to venture back down into the lower floors of the manor once more. Alfred was constantly on edge with a sense of claustrophobia in the manor - but with even more limited space to move within, he felt even more weary. That, and at least when he could access the first floor he could hold out hope that he might find a way out. On the third floor? He knew it to be impossible.
He wondered if everyone made it up safely. That was the hope, but he wouldn't be surprised if the manor managed to take a victim or two in the floods. Finally wrenching his eyes away from the sight, Alfred started to walk down the hall. He hated how easy it was to get separated from others in the manor. He knew there was something to it, of course - Safety in numbers, which meant that the manor wouldn't give you an opportunity to build up those numbers. That didn't mean that Alfred would stop trying, of course.
He hated the way that his footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. He knew that there were plenty of nations and monsters lurking around the manor, and they were all confined to the third floor or higher. So why didn't he see others lurking around? It seemed as though time and space could be bent within the manor.
At long last, after seeing no one, Alfred decided to take a chance and peer within one of the rooms. Perhaps he might find something of use. He'd already received something that looked like it might potentially be promising - A card that he was supposed to wave in front of a monster when and if he encountered one. He had to admit that he was curious about what that could entail, but wasn't particularly eager to meet a monster face to face. Not unless that monster was their ticket out of the manor. Were that the case, he'd gladly fight the monster to the death. Only if it meant that it was their ticket out of there. He wasn't about to leave on his own.
Alfred stopped outside of a door, retrieving his gun from its holster. He held the gun tight in one hand while cracking the door open with the other. He kept his gun pointed outward, ready to fire at a moment's notice if something jumped out at him.
Instead of a monster, he spotted a familiar face pointing a gun at him in return. Rather than be put off by this, Alfred was rather relieved. "Old man," He greeted, a small smile coming across his face. It lacked the luster of his usual goofy grin, but it was the best he could manage at the moment in these dreary circumstances. "Boy am I glad to see you."
[Note - My Al tends to call Arthurs 'old man'. It's half to poke fun at Arthur for his age...and half because it's the closest Alfred can come to acknowledging the fatherly feelings he has toward Arthur without coming out and saying the word 'dad' or 'father'. XD]
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Arthur Kirkland
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Played by Hat.
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Post by England on Nov 30, 2013 19:36:22 GMT -6
If Alfred expected a warm reception out of him, then Arthur undoubtedly left him disappointed. Even after he was greeted by the American the barrel of that gun didn't lower. Green was staring at Alfred with a sharp intensity behind the line of that weapon. His manner was leaning towards hostile, as every bit of muscle inside Arthur stayed coiled in cautious tension. He shifted the grip on his gun into a teacup hold to better balance it, tracking the figure of Alfred as it came stepping further into the room.
"You. I'm not sure if you're the real Alfred or not. This could be trick sent to lower my guard. And if by chance it isn't an illusion, I am debating whether I ought to shoot you for getting me into this situation. Perhaps just your knee or another painful spot. Disabling yet not fatal. That's half of what you'd deserve, spectre or no."
Naturally his threats were a bluff. He was already fighting against the desire to turn his barrel away from the American for fear that his shivering finger might actually pull the trigger. Any seasoned soldier knew that you never put your finger on the trigger unless you intended to squeeze it. Arthur was experienced enough with a gun to keep his finger just off to the side. Were this an illusion meant to prey upon his weaknesses, it had chosen a successful image. The Englishman was feeling conflicted simply from the idea of shooting a spectre wearing Alfred's face.
Reason won out over his self-preservation. He lowered his arms to point the barrel to the floor instead. Arthur found himself unable to shoot this potential foe. Not even if this proved a fatal decision. It still felt suspiciously like he'd be committing filicide. Fratricide? Homicide. Yes, that term was general enough not to confuse the complicated non-relationship he had with America. No matter what the history books decided to coin their long term alliance, Arthur didn't think there was anything 'Special' about wanting to punch someone in the face as often as Alfred's obnoxious laugh and idiot notions tempted him.
Unless a 'Special Relationship' had taken on the connotations of 'A strong desire to injure an American without the ability to follow through.'? Then that old term coined by the media might make sense after all.
Arthur's exhaustion had him slumping back against the fireplace's edge again. He couldn't bring himself to shoot a bullet at Alfred yet that didn't spare the American from getting the Englishman's meanest look fired at him like a cannon. Mixed in with that resentful glower was Arthur's own form of concern. He was studying Alfred thoroughly, taking in any detail that might betray the American as a hoax, while also checking him over for any sign of injury or serious flaw in well-being.
"I'll punch you later. And don't call me 'old man', old boy. You should be more respectful of your elders. Which you can start with by closing the door behind you before you let anything else unwanted into the room on your heels. Then you can start explaining to me how it is that anyone except the most royal of prats could invite me to a party at a haunted residence that he did not even have the foresight to inspect beforehand." Arthur intoned dryly, as he patted his palm on the floor nearby. His other hand still kept the gun held tight. Just in case.
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Post by America on Dec 1, 2013 12:25:11 GMT -6
Alfred watched as Arthur kept his gun trained on him. He held his grip on his own gun. He was fairly certain that the man he was talking to was in fact his former guardian - but it didn't hurt to be prepared in case it wasn't.
If this was a trick by the manor, it was an awfully good one. Arthur's biting jibes were right on the money for something that Alfred would expect from the older nation. He couldn't say that he entirely blamed England for the harsh words, but that didn't mean that he would take them lying down either. "Shooting me would be silly. I mean obviously it would make sense if I was a spectre - but I'm not - so no matter how pissed off you are at me, shooting me probably isn't a good idea. Say something attacked us right after you shot me in the leg. You just disabled one of your allies!"
He had his doubts as to Arthur being serious about shooting him anyway, but hey - might as well present a case against it on the off chance that Arthur was making a serious threat.
Alfred, too, was surreptitiously checking over Arthur to make certain that he was alright. While he didn't look in tip-top shape, he had to remind himself that no one in the manor was in their peak condition, save for perhaps the monsters that dwelt within. Given their situation, Arthur seemed to be doing fairly well, which was a relief to the young natoin.
He really didn't need everyone reminding him that he screwed up - Did they think he hadn't heard it before from just about everyone in this damn place? "Ding ding ding! We have a winner! Congratulations, you're the millionth person to ask me that question since we've been trapped in here! He ran a hand through his mop of hair out of frustration - a habit he'd had since he was a colony. "I'll tell you what I told everyone else - I didn't think the place was haunted. How many so-called haunted places are actually haunted? Should I have checked it out beforehand? Obviously. I'd be the only one trapped here if that were the case. I'd prefer that to be the case. But that's not the way it happened and there's nothing we can do about it now."
He closed the door behind him as he spoke, knowing Arthur was correct about the dangers of leaving the door open. As the door clicked behind him, however, he felt an odd mixture of relief and apprehension. He knew it was likely safest with the door shut, but the room suddenly seemed a lot smaller. He swallowed, attempting to even out his breathing as he felt his heart start to race in his chest.
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Arthur Kirkland
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Played by Hat.
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Post by England on Dec 14, 2013 7:47:22 GMT -6
The passage of Alfred's hand through his hair in that expression of frustration was the telltale giveaway Arthur needed. No evil presence on these haunting grounds could have picked through his memories enough to have an illusion perform the American's habit. Arthur knew it all too well. Yes, it had been one Alfred had had since his colony days. And in the time of increased tension leading up to when America severed from him it had been a constant sight.
How frustrated you were. We spent so much time speaking in circles with each other then that we might as well have been talking in foreign languages. That has never changed, really, all these years later.
He shut his eyes against those thoughts, snorting quietly after listening to Alfred's retort. "Leave the dry wit and scathing sarcasm to me, old boy. They're not anything you're suited to. I am sure that everyone has been less than pleasant to you for this situation. Of course you didn't mean to get us all into this dire scenario. If anyone believed you'd ever be so malicious then they are fools."
When Arthur opened his eyes again it was to view the painting that hung on the wall. He engaged that eerie stare with his own, speaking distractedly to Alfred as the American came further into the room. "Come sit with me. I managed to get a fire started. Lucky that time and domestication haven't spoiled me enough that I've lost the skill of surviving in the wild. Not that I would have ever expected a house to become a scene for survival." His hand lifted above him to rap his knuckles on the wallpaper of the room, letting that dull thump sound in the room.
"Would it make you feel any better if I told you that I don't believe we are even in the same house anymore? Not in the when that we were. I think where we are is other than the were we were at before, and even the where is a bit dodgy. So you're half right, and they're half right. Your critics, I mean." The Englishman paused for thought, lips parting as he confused himself. "I'm sorry. My brain is in shambles so I might not be speaking lucidly enough for a decent conversation. 'Nothing new', I am sure you are thinking? Right, Alfred?"
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Post by America on Dec 19, 2013 12:25:02 GMT -6
The corners of Alfred's mouth twitched upward as Arthur once again called him by the name 'old boy'. Arthur proceeded to both critique and defend him within the same sentence. Were it nearly anyone else, Alfred would be annoyed - But this was something he was used to. The relationship that he had with the man who he considered to be the closest thing he had to a father figure was a roller coaster in every sense of the word.
Regardless, his presence was something of a comfort in the manor. Being near Arthur offered a feeling of comfort, even though Alfred knew that this was nothing like when he was a child and would run to Arthur after having a nightmare. Then, Arthur could assure him that he would be alright, that it was just a dream and nothing was going to come after him. Here? Well, he could assure Alfred in the manor, but both of them would know he was lying.
"Who have you come across since we all got separated?" Alfred questioned, a common one that he asked nearly everyone that he came across. "I've met up with Israel, Kosovo, Denmark, and Mexico. Unfortunately, I ended up separated from each one before too long." He frowned, a troubled expression on his face. "Makes me wonder how long we have before it happens to us." He didn't want it to happen at all, but he knew that it was inevitable.
He took a seat next to Arthur, finally allowing himself to relax the slightest bit. There was safety in numbers, and he knew that he could trust Arthur - Just like Arthur could trust him. They were family, after all, albeit a dysfunctional one.
Alfred arched a brow as Arthur started to go on a tangent concerning the house. He had difficulty following what the elder nation was saying, but hoped that he'd at least gotten the gist of it.
"So, if I get what you're saying - you're saying that you think we somehow got transported somewhere else? Or do you think that this house is like a dimension all it's own?" Once upon a time he would have teased Arthur about being crazy, but after what he'd seen in the manor? That wasn't so much the case any more. If anything, Arthur's eccentricities might come in handy within the wall of the manor.
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Arthur Kirkland
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Played by Hat.
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Post by England on Jan 2, 2014 6:28:10 GMT -6
When Alfred asked him about those he had seen in his wanderings of the Manor, the Englishman's head knocked gently back to rest against the support of the fireplace stones. His gaze lifted to watch the play of firelight dancing upon the ceiling overhead. "So far I have encountered Prussia, Romania, France, Germany, and my brothers . . ." With the way that he let that trail off into silence, that few seconds of quiet was pregnant with things unspoken. Arthur wasn't going to divulge any details concerning the fiasco of meeting with his siblings if he wasn't pressed. He trusted Alfred to let it pass.
"It's just as it was with you. I was with them for a time before circumstances separated us. Francis and I were swept apart by the flood. I'm not sure whether he made it to safety or not. He might be dead. They all might be dead. We might be dead, as far as I know." He concluded with a shrug, too worn to offer up optimistic words for Alfred's benefit. His trials had stolen most of his positivity away.
Arthur drew his knees up closer to his chest. It was warmer that way, so he didn't care that his posture was sloppy. When Alfred repeated back that summary of his words, the Englishman nodded. "Something like that. A different dimension, perhaps. Surely you have noticed that things aren't operating on a linear basis when it comes to time? Day, night. Minute, hour. None of these are constants like they were outside of this place. Sometimes I think I've got it all figured out and then in the next blink I've completely lost the thread. It doesn't help that I'm so scatterbrained."
As if evidence of that very statement, Arthur's attention was already drifting. He went patting at the pockets of his jacket to search through them. A grunt of satisfaction escaped the Englishman when he seemed to find what he was looking for. Out of a pocket he removed a wrapped packet of soggy Saltine crackers that were practically smashed to powder. Regardless of this fact he still waved them in Alfred's face like an offered prize. "Here. You like salty things, don't you? Can't stand them myself. They gave these to me on the aeroplane trip over. I just remembered that I had them on me. Isn't it a funny thing? Some unknown time ago I was sitting contently in a first class seat chatting with a nice stewardess that gave me extra Saltines with my meal, and now here I am fighting for my life and my sanity. Life is strange that way. Oh, but I've gone off on another vein, haven't I? Yes -- dodgy time and other nations."
"I don't think they want us united. We'd be dangerous if we all stayed together. It's safer for them to have us scrambling apart. So if you ask me if I think that the two of us will be driven away from each other just like we have from everyone else, then of course I will say 'yes'. We may as well enjoy this little time, don't you agree, Alfred?"
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Post by America on Jan 18, 2014 12:25:21 GMT -6
Hearing the names that Arthur uttered helped to reassure Alfred that there were still others making their way through the manor. It didn't sound as though the manor caught too many people as victims yet, though he knew that this could change at any moment. This was why he almost always had his gun within reach.
Alfred frowned when he heard the news of Francis and the flood. "You're right, we might be - but if that's the case, we need to work even harder to get out of here." It was sorely tempting to be as complacent as Arthur was behaving, but Alfred knew that he couldn't let himself get that way. He needed to cling on to that hope, however small it might be. It was truly one of the only things that kept him going. The manor and its inhabitants were trying to take everything they could from himself and the other visitors, but he wouldn't - no, couldn't - let them take that from him.
"It's not just you," Alfred informed Arthur. "It's like that for me too. I think some of us have been in here much longer than others, even though we all showed up at the same time." Worst thing was, it was impossible to tell how long they'd been within the walls of the manor. It felt like years - it quite possibly was years. Then again, it could have been mere minutes. There was no way of telling until they left the manor, and who knew when that would be? Just the thought made Alfred fidget a little in his seat. Trapped, trapped, trapped..
Alfred's eyes widened as Arthur pulled out a small, damp packet of Saltine crackers. He could feel himself beginning to salivate at the sight, but he stopped himself, meeting Arthur's eyes. "You sure man?" Food was a hard commodity to come by in the manor.
When Arthur admitted that he couldn't stand them, Alfred felt a little less guilty about taking them, though it still didn't feel quite right. "We should split them. You don't know when you're gonna find food in here again, and I've heard some of the food in here has worms that eat your brains."
Alfred looked over to Arthur as he started to expand upon his suspicions concerning the manor. He didn't want to say it, but he knew Arthur's suspicions were true. Regardless of how long they actually had together, they should enjoy it. "Let's eat, drink, and be merry!" He chuckled as he opened the bag of saltines, tossing one of the crackers into his mouth. He then held out the packet to Arthur so that the other nation could take one if he wanted. Well, they could eat and try to be merry...the drinking part would be a bit harder, though certainly not unwelcome given the circumstances.
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Arthur Kirkland
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Played by Hat.
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Post by England on Jan 31, 2014 15:32:04 GMT -6
Having that saltine offered back to him by Alfred touched Arthur. The American was clearly concerned about his health with the words he had spoken. This was a mutual aspect of their relationship that had last through time -- except for that lengthy span of time when England, with his slighted pride, pretending that it wasn't. Tentatively expressing concern for each other in their own subtle ways. Of course Arthur still struggled to stop himself from sinking back into the habits of their newer days when he would fret endlessly over an adventurous American colony; he didn't believe that Alfred would appreciate it if he worried over him like a parent would a child.
His interest in partaking of it withered when Alfred mentioned the brain worms. Arthur's reaching fingers folded back as he lowered his hand back to his side. "Prussia had the brain worm. I had to outwit a monster for the cure. It had managed to turn him into a living skeleton by the time I finally got him fixed up. At least the memory of the event keeps my appetite in check."
Arthur's face turned aside until just his profile was visible to Alfred, to frown at the flames of the fire. He was thinking about what the younger man had said about their time here. That made sense to him when he considered how much he had been through in what should have been a short amount of time. "If that is the case, and some of us have been pulled deeper through time, then that isn't very reassuring. I think that is simultaneously possible and impossible. I've given it much thought, as you can imagine, while I've wandered this place."
"I'm not sure that I am the person I was when I set foot inside this Manor for your party. I think there must be multiple versions of myself here. The one that arrived for your celebration is still there, fixed in that time, mere minutes into the festivities. Sometimes I think I can remember the party, you see, and other times I recall events that have not happened yet or ones that took place that have not effected me as I am right now." His fingers reached to the back of his neck, feeling the unblemished skin. He could remember the phantom pain of having Wales's blade cut into it yet there was no sign that his flesh had ever been harmed.
"I have to believe that this is what is really going on with us. Otherwise, a more horrifying possibility arises: What happens to a world in the absence of its Nations? Have we simply vanished off the globe, swallowed up here, all of our people lost? Are our people currently in chaos without the will of their nations to guide them? Has no one come looking for us, if we have truly been gone this long?" Arthur pursed his lips, bothered by the course of his own thoughts, yet these are the ones that had been cycling through his mind since the beginning. It felt good being able to vent out these patches of logic to someone else for a change. "Is it the same way for you? Do you remember things that haven't happened to you? Or have I gone nutters?"
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Post by America on Feb 7, 2014 15:25:44 GMT -6
Alfred watched as Arthur reached out for the saltines, then pulled away. He soon found out why when Arthur elaborated on their discussion concerning brain worms. Alfred was none too pleased to hear the rumors confirmed - much less to hear about the effects they had on one of their victims.
The younger nation eyed the saltines in his hand before he recalled his former caretaker's explanation concerning them. The saltines were safe - Arthur had them before the manor."The saltines are safe old man - you had them before they even came here. No brain worms in there."
He did not want Arthur to forego the opportunity to eat because of brain worms that he knew were not in the saltines. He didn't even consider the idea that Arthur's appetite was shot by the thought of what happened to Prussia. He knew that food was scarce in the manor, and he didn't want Arthur to turn down what little 'safe' food they had left. Some of the food in the manor proved to be safe as well - After all, Alfred had eaten it without encountering any problems - but this conversation meant that he would be giving his next meal a closer look, that was was certain.
Alfred wasn't sure whether Arthur's words comforted him or disturbed him. He thought that there were multiple versions of himself wandering around the manor? It sounded insane - and yet, as Arthur continued on, Alfred realized that there was something to what Arthur was saying.
"You aren't the only one," Alfred admitted quietly, as if he did not want to admit it even to himself. Alfred looked around, his gaze stopping on a rather eerie painting on the wall. Even the decorations in the manor gave him the heebie-jeebies.
Yet at the same time, confiding in Arthur brought an odd sort of comfort. Not only because the other nation raised him (though that likely played a part), but because someone else experienced the same thing. He nibbled on one of the saltines as he waited for Arthur's next response.
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Arthur Kirkland
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Post by England on Mar 5, 2014 1:06:31 GMT -6
Having Alfred insist upon him taking that saltine, and his logic behind it, made Arthur feel foolish over his paranoia. If a worm had broken into the packaging to infest them, he would have noticed such an event. The crackle of the packaging in Alfred's hand was proof enough that the American didn't find any oddity with them upon receiving them. There was a brief moment that the plastic caught the reflection of the fire's light as the younger man reassured him. Arthur blanched. "Of course. You're absolutely right. I was just being overly cautious."
He pinched the edge of the remaining saltine between his thumb and forefinger to slide it free. It was brought closer to his face as the Englishman gave it another thoughtful inspection. Trying to conserve such a meager source of food would be pointless; it was far too small to offer any lasting nutrition. That didn't stop him from carefully breaking off just a corner to bring to his mouth for a nibble. Salt wasn't a substance that he had any real love for even if it was one of the few staples of his homeland's cuisine.
Alfred was correct in suspecting that memories of Prussia's ordeal were mucking up his appetite. The Englishman's thoughts were still fresh from the incident, or at least they had surfaced to preoccupy him. Given his reasoning that things weren't linear within the boundaries of time within their location Arthur couldn't tell what was current or what was in his past. Or the future. The only aspect that remained a mystery was the future. If only he could predict what was in store for them, that would make things considerably easier.
To hear Alfred agreeing with him was a relief. The American could very well have dismissed him as crackers. It was lucky that his former charge had the ability to be insightful now and then. Having Alfred at the top of his game was essential. Arthur didn't care to admit what was becoming all too apparent to him; that he was unraveling one thread at a time, held together by sheer force of an iron will. There was no telling how much good he would even do for Alfred as things progressed. Of course he would not admit this to the American.
Once upon a time it had been his responsibility to be a teacher, a guide, and a protector for the fledgling nation in his care. For all the strife and struggles between them afterwards, he still tried to provide what he could for Alfred's benefit. Arthur dropped his eyes from the American's face with a bitter twist at the edge of his mouth as he considered the complete change in their dynamics. He had no intention to become a burden for Alfred to carry. "What is most essential is that you find a means to escape this place. You, yes, and Matthew as well. If you can manage it somehow then I suppose you must also seek to extract Francis from here as well since he is hopeless on his own. You'll promise that to me, won't you, old boy?"
His voice was a steady calm as he continued on. He sought to lock his gaze with Alfred's, eyebrows drawn heavier in their angles above the Englishman's eyes. "There are going to be losses here. Not everyone can be saved. Not everyone will deserve it. You understand what I'm telling you? Alfred, if it comes between the choice of being a hero or making your escape from this prison, then you ought to listen to your old man when I tell you to flee without looking back. Won't you grant me that reassurance? No matter what befalls me I will endure it so long as I can hope that you'll all be free. Promise me."
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Post by America on Apr 11, 2014 12:25:17 GMT -6
Alfred smiled, glad that Arthur saw his point. "Hey, nothing wrong with a healthy dose of caution in this hellhole, but we know these crackers are safe." It was a welcome relief to know that something within the manor was 'safe', no matter whether it was something as small as a pack of saltine crackers or something as big as a member of your family. Alfred tossed his cracker in his mouth at once, taking a few bites before swallowing it. He watched as Arthur did the opposite - Instead of taking a large bite, he took a meager nibble out of the side of his cracker. Alfred chuckled. At least he was eating the cracker - an improvement from the start of their conversation.
Arthur wasn't the only one unraveling in the manor. Alfred could keep himself together most of the time, but he still recalled a moment where he succumbed and bashed his head repeatedly against a window. It was an attempt to get fresh air, and he succeeded - but also managed a few lacerations to his face from the glass.
Another chuckle came forth at Arthur's commentary about Francis, though the amused look on Alfred's face quickly dropped into a more serious visage. "I promise I'll try to get Mattie, Francis, and I out of here safely." He looked Arthur up and down. "But I'm not that stupid. I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to get me to focus on everyone else and not you." He folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow. "I promise I'll try to save them and myself, but I promise that I'll try to save you too."
He didn't care whether Arthur protested or not. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least try to get Arthur out of there along with everyone else he promised to. "You and Mattie are the only family I have," he added, something that he hadn't admitted out loud since the Revolution.
"There are going to be losses here. Not everyone can be saved. Not everyone will deserve it. You understand what I'm telling you? Alfred, if it comes between the choice of being a hero or making your escape from this prison, then you ought to listen to your old man when I tell you to flee without looking back. Won't you grant me that reassurance? No matter what befalls me I will endure it so long as I can hope that you'll all be free. Promise me."
Alfred clenched his teeth together. Arthur knew he was making it harder for Alfred to keep his promise. He knew damn well about Alfred's hero complex. "I promise I'll do what I can to get myself out of here," he said at last. "But I'm taking as many with me as I can."
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Arthur Kirkland
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Played by Hat.
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Post by England on Apr 22, 2014 0:55:35 GMT -6
"Hey, nothing wrong with a healthy dose of caution in this hellhole, but we know these crackers are safe."
Arthur snorted derisively at that comment by Alfred, still taking his time with nibbling that cracker as if afraid he might lose it if he rushed. He became briefly distracted with marveling once again at the American's capacity to vacuum down food and wondered if the man even bothered to taste anything when he did that. Lecturing him on manners in relation to food had never gotten him very far. Alfred's habits were set from a long time without Arthur's influence. Though Arthur still tried in his own subtle way to get through to the American. How many editions of Emily Post's etiquette books had he forwarded along by now? Enough to fund a small library. If all the visitors were interested in improving their manners, that is.
He was much too worn to comment on it. There were larger concerns on the forefront of his mind, as the Englishman nodded along to Alfred's promises of saving their loved ones. Arthur grimaced guiltily when Alfred called him out on his unspoken request that the younger man abandon him if the occasion arose. He let his gaze drift since his eyes were often an open book if the right reader were looking. "All I meant is that between the two of us, I feel I might be better suited to sustaining myself in this environment. And if you discover a way to escape then I can at least remain here to assist others with fleeing as well. Though you seem uncomfortable with it, my magic is quite powerful, Alfred, and thus far it has proven an asset in this most supernatural of circumstances."
What Arthur didn't care to admit that his magic was the only shield he had to keep the negative powers of the Manor at bay. As he suffered through periods of exhaustion and strife, that protection was starting to wear down as well. If Arthur wasn't cautious then he'd be left defenseless. Those weren't concerns he wanted to burden Alfred with. He opened his mouth to speak again when the American spoke. The words he heard stunned him.
The two of them had been performing this awkward dance for so long now. Allies, yes, also occasional nuisances to each other, for sure. Since the fateful moment that Alfred had stood across from him declaring that their brotherly ties were severed, Arthur had put the American firmly into the box of fellow nation for the sake of his own emotional state. Hearing directly out of Alfred's mouth that he considered them family -- a truth that Arthur already knew yet never dared state -- woke a strong feeling of warmth in the Englishman's chest. He moved a hand beside him to dig his thumbnail into the flesh of his palm until it hurt. If he didn't keep it in check then he was likely to burst into tears or an embarrassing sort of smile.
His voice was low when he responded. "Of course we are family, Alfred. We always were. Or, to put it more correctly -- I always considered us family even when you did not. Arthur had finally gained enough confidence in his composure to unclench his grip, hand ruffling through his wild hairs instead. "That doesn't mean I never wanted to throttle you or beat you senseless. Mind you, that's par for the course amongst my blood kin. Despite our differences in the past I have always .... greatly wanted your happiness."
He then moved both hands in front of himself, waving both dismissively. This conversation was getting too dangerous for Arthur's currently compromised emotions. "Let's not waffle on about such matters. If it makes you feel any better then we could try to locate Matthew and Francis together. We make a formidable team when we're getting along. With the four of us reunited I doubt there is anything we'd need to fear. What say you?"
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Post by America on Apr 22, 2014 12:25:26 GMT -6
Alfred grinned when he heard Arthur snort. It was so typical that for a moment or so, he could remove himself from where they were and what they were going through.
Arthur had a point when it came to his magic - and for once, Alfred did not have a dismissive comment waiting for Arthur in return. Arthur could be...eccentric when it came to his magic, but if he truly did have magic, it was a valuable tool in the manor. Especially so when considering what they were up against.
That much being said, Alfred still didn't trust what Arthur was saying. He claimed that his magic put him at an advantage, but there was still an ulterior motive behind those words that Alfred didn't like. 'Leave me behind', Arthur was essentially saying. 'I can handle myself.' But what if Arthur couldn't handle himself? "You may have your magic, but I have my strength," Alfred countered in that stubborn fashion of his, a habit that he shared with the nation that stood before him. It was no small wonder, though, when Alfred saw Arthur as a combination between an older brother and a father. An estranged one, to be fair, but they were on better terms now than any time since Alfred set out on his own. That had to count for something.
Alfred felt a pang in his gut at Arthur's words. Arthur considered them to be family all along. "You're wrong, y'know." Alfred informed Arthur, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "I never stopped considering you family. Not really, anyway."
His words in the past suggested otherwise, of course. He not only pushed Arthur away, but stopped talking to him for a good number of years. Contrary to his words and actions, he didn't hate Arthur. He hated what Arthur did, but not Arthur himself. Not when he had so many fond memories of Arthur from his childhood.
"I had to do it, old man," he continued at last. "I couldn't stand it anymore. I wanted my say and you wouldn't listen. So I had to make you listen." After having said his piece, Alfred decided to drop the subject - unless Arthur wanted to continue along that line.
"Let's not waffle on about such matters. If it makes you feel any better then we could try to locate Matthew and Francis together. We make a formidable team when we're getting along. With the four of us reunited I doubt there is anything we'd need to fear. What say you?"
"Sure, that sounds like a plan!" Alfred responded with a grin. "Beats sitting around here feeling sorry for ourselves." Alfred was a man of action, and sitting around talking only suited him for so long - Especially in an environment like this one.
If all went as planned, they'd have a group of four - Far better than the groups of two that Alfred kept finding himself in, and he'd get to see that both his brother and Francis were safe. If all went well - unfortunately, it never "went well" for long in the manor.
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Arthur Kirkland
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Post by England on May 1, 2014 4:49:25 GMT -6
"You may have your magic, but I have my strength."
Arthur shook his head. He'd predicted that Alfred would counter with that resource. The Englishman had relied on that strength in the past. America's strength was titanic, no question. Would that really be enough to survive this harrowing experience? Arthur had his doubts. "There's a chance that your strength might be underestimated here, true. I just don't believe it will be enough. It's like... er. It's similar to..."
There had to be one of Alfred's superheros that he could reference for this. Arthur never bothered to keep up the long list of comic book figures that the American loved so much. Otherwise, this would be easier. He finally pulled one out of his scattered brain. "Well, it might be like your Batman chap. This is your sprawling city to defend, full of figures that wish to do considerable harm to the.. erm... citizens here." Goodness, this was hard. Why couldn't Alfred have gotten into something more familiar to him, like Dickens or Shakespeare? He pressed on. "It's in your nature as the hero to use your strength to save innocents from harm. You're very good-hearted, Alfred, and you always have been. However, you must consider the threats here to far exceed your normal, run-of-the-mill bad guy."
"From what I have managed to observe, these monsters do not require rest. Many of them are old, very old, very powerful. And evil, yes -- oh goodness, such evil. I fear that they will wear your strength down, Alfred. Wear it down, wear you down, until you can be conquered. Your good nature will feed right into that, as you try so hard to be the hero." Arthur warned him, hand gesturing with the edge of a cracker still pinched in his fingers. "A hero never fully understands the villain and the villain always uses this to their advantage. It's the same problem with you, Alfred, because you can't be compromised enough to think as evil thinks. You can't fathom how to be ruthless or cruel or heartless. Not like..." His rush of words faded away to quiet when Arthur decided he did not want to finish what he had been about to say. Not like me.
The conversation had gone to places he did not want to explore; driven on the rails to the very subject that Arthur made it a point to never discuss. Alfred was very kind to bring it up so indirectly. America's revolution was a white elephant in the room that had haunted their relationship since it happened. One day they would have to sit together, when Arthur could confidently keep his emotions in check, to talk it out once and for all. That just wouldn't be here even if the Englishman felt raw enough to dredge up that history. He popped up to his feet as he let the subject drop when Alfred did, palms rubbing anxiously on the fabric of his slacks as he paced a little away from the American.
"If we're going to strike out of here with the intention of finding our important ones, then we ought to at least form a plan. Charging into danger might work for you in most situations, Alfred, yet in here we must be wiser. We should decide how we're going to find them. Shall we search this property one step at a time? What will be done if we get separated? What's our plan should we come under attack? These are all decisions we need to make before we leave this sanctuary. So, let's put our heads together, America. What do you think should be our plan?"
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Post by America on Jul 6, 2014 15:26:25 GMT -6
Instead of reacting in the way that Alfred hoped, Arthur pushed aside his reassurance. Alfred frowned. True, his strength might not be enough to counter the baddies in the manor, but the same exact thing could be said for Arthur's magic. They really had no idea what they were dealing with. That being said, Arthur was probably amongst the most prepared with his magic. He had no shortage of prior experience with the supernatural, whereas Alfred? The closest Alfred came to experiencing most of what he experienced in the manor was through watching horror movies.
"I know they do old man, but I plan to use what I got to my advantage. Unless you can teach me magic, that's my strength and my guns." Alfred was starting to consider the idea that he was in over his head, and he didn't want to do that. He needed to keep his head up. Someone did.
Alfred frowned further at the warnings Arthur gave him. A shudder went through him. It bothered him seeing the stoic Englishman so perturbed. Worse, in Alfred's opinion, was how highly Arthur described Alfred. He was a hero, he had a good heart. While this was true most of the time, it didn't mean that Alfred wasn't capable of being cruel. It didn't feel right hearing Arthur talk about him as though he was above all of that when he'd already proven in the past that he was just as capable of falling to darker desires as the rest of the nations were.
"A hero never fully understands the villain and the villain always uses this to their advantage. It's the same problem with you, Alfred, because you can't be compromised enough to think as evil thinks."
"You're wrong," Alfred told him at last. "I want what you're saying to be true, old man, but it's not. I've done horrible things in the past, and what's worse is that I thought I was being heroic. What's to say that can't happen again?"
He sighed. "Villains aren't just the inhuman monsters we see running around the manor. Sometimes the worst villains can be those who think they're doing the right thing when they're really not." He knew that from experience.
Arthur was right in one aspect - They needed a plan. Even the impulsive Alfred was willing to admit that much. "Well, we need to stick together. We can go from room to room. One of us can be a lookout while the other searches the room for anything we could use or anyone we're looking for."
So far so good, but it felt as through Alfred was missing something. He looked to Arthur to see if he had any feedback to add.
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Arthur Kirkland
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Post by England on Jul 17, 2014 4:55:02 GMT -6
Arthur listened to Alfred's response to his praising words. It wasn't what he'd expected to hear. So often did the American talk highly of himself that to hear an admittance of doubt or even self-loathing from Alfred left the Englishman floundering on what he should say next. His face was slack, thoughtful as he considered the somber, youthful face highlighted by the fire nearby. Alfred's logic hit a little too close to that topic they had touched upon then quickly pushed aside; a swelling of regretful feelings knifing into Arthur's heart as a result.
He sighed and pressed up to stand. A hand dropped upon Alfred's head to send fingers swirling about affectionately in wheat-coloured hair. It was a paternal gesture, one he had regularly treated the American to as a boy, and right now in this moment it was perhaps the most fitting reminder of those early ties between them. His voice was gentle, lacking malice. "Then I must be the worst of villains in your eyes, America, because I am ever so guilty of believing I was in the right when I was doing the wrong thing. Especially with you."
His hand dropped away to snag his jacket from where it hung off the mantle's edge of the fireplace. That policeman's jacket was slid onto his body, Arthur fussing with the collar to get it adjusted, as if there was anyone here to impress with a tidy appearance. "We've all done things that we aren't proud of, Alfred. I probably shouldn't play the ageist card on you when you're thinking so seriously about things, but... You are young enough that all of your mistakes fit into a miniscule sub-section of World History. If you bothered to brush up on how the rest of us have been living our lives since the Dark Ages I think you might feel a little better about yourself."
The Englishman bent slightly to squint at what little reflection was offered to him from a nearby bit of polished glass as he positioned his hat upon his head. It was astounding how much the need to be orderly and tidy remained with him even in this atmosphere. Perhaps it was because the world was falling apart around them that Arthur's need to keep a grasp on normalcy mattered so much to him. With a curt, satisfactory nod at the angle of his brim, he turned to clap Alfred on the shoulder to signal for him to get up.
"No time to start like the present. Our little family is probably lost without us. Francis might be off crying in a corner somewhere, and Matthew off huddled in a closet. Beat yourself up later if you like but for now I think we should see who needs rescuing, Mister Hero. We can switch off searching rooms; I'll watch your back, then you watch mine. I'll admit, I'm excited about it -- feels a little like 1945 all over again." Arthur winked at him as he checked that his Magnum was securely nested in its holster. The door was pulled open as he swept his arm in a broad gesture. "After you."
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