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Post by Deleted on Dec 18, 2013 2:44:05 GMT -6
Blood. It didn't matter that it wasn't his, it was blood. He felt dirty, for more reasons than one. He wasn't God! He shouldn't have to choose who lived and who died. It wasn't his choice to make, so why force him to make it? "Trust no one." This had become his mantra. Nothing can be trusted. He had said it over and over again, repeating with every encounter. But where had it got him thus far? A few bullets less, and a few bloodstains more. His gun hung limply in his right hand. He didn't want it anymore. After all he had done, the thing in this mansion that scared him most was himself. All it took was the pull of a trigger to end a life. He didn't want that kind of power! It was sickening – he was sickening.
Why am I such a goddamn coward? For the umpteenth time, he set his gun aside so that he could wipe his red-stained hands on his pants, tugging at the collar of his shirt as if he could escape his anxiety-worn body as easily as shedding his clothes. I can't defend myself. I can't protect the ones I care about. All I can do is shoot– He froze, flashbacks of all the frightened eyes that had found themselves on the wrong side of his barrel. So vividly, he could feel the recoil. He could hear the gunshots loud in his ears, leaving them ringing as the bodies hit the floor. How many innocents had fallen? He could clearly recall he had pointed his weapon at his own brother at one point. So much fear and paranoia, bubbling up inside him until he was ready to burst. Was this manor turning him into a monster? A cold, selfish creature who would sooner shoot his own brother than risk harm coming to himself? Hadn't he sworn to protect his family?
He picked up his gun once more, flinching as his hand closed around the handle. He wanted to drop it, leave it in the hallway to rot or be taken away by the next sentient being to come across it. He certainly didn't want to see it again; it almost burned to pick it up again, but he knew that without it, he wouldn't stand much of a chance against an actual threat.
An actual threat, he thought dryly to himself. Like what? Like Marcello? Was he an actual threat? He winced, remembering the way his brother had paled in their first encounter. The barrel was in his gut! Romano was so close to just pulling the trigger and ending him. Or the little werewolf? It was a child. It didn't even attack you. Was that an actual threat? He leaned against the wall, resting his forehead on his arm. What about Anna María? …No… Was she an actual threat?
"NO!!!" Romano screamed, slamming his fist against the wall. Repeatedly, he knocked his head there until he was sure he would break a hole through the plaster. She sacrificed herself to save your life… Bang! …and you still had the gall… Bang! …to point your fucking weapon between her eyes! Bang, bang, bang!
Romano ceased his banging, turning to face the empty hallway. Sucking in a deep breath, he let out a vicious roar, pulling back his weapon and letting it fly. He would have loved to see it crash against the wall, clattering to the ground. He would have loved to just leave it there and walk away. But his hand never let go of the gun. He stared at it, the dark stains where blood had dripped. He could still feel the warm liquid trickling down his fingers, splattering across his forehead. He had wiped it off the best he could, but without water, he was probably filthy. He needed to get cleaned up.
Trying to clear his mind of any more unpleasant thoughts, he opened the next door, hoping it would be a bathroom. Working plumbing was preferred. What he got instead was a cozy looking bedroom. And there in the middle was a girl. He knew this girl. Liechtenstein. As in, the little angel can-do-no-wrong Liechtenstein. And here he was, covered in someone else's blood with a loaded weapon.
Shit.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 23, 2013 19:36:50 GMT -6
Sleep.
Gott, if there was ever a thing she needed, it was that. Hallways were not comfortable, especially not here where the slightest movement sent the floor below her into a tirade of creaking that forced the dozing girl to jolt awake in terror. With no clocks to remind her, she wasn't aware of the current time, nor was she aware of how long it'd been since the last time she'd slept. Each room she explored seemed to function independent of everywhere else, with variable numbers of dust layers per location. Oddly, though, she felt no change in the flow of time, perhaps because she was stunted to time's propensity for change. As young as she was in comparison to all others trapped within these walls, immortality was something one does not simply forget and live with. One lives because of it, one denies change because of it. She noted that her face remained relatively stagnant over the last few decades, and suddenly Lili was unable to recall a time when she might have been a child.
Curiously she examined her own hands. They were pristine and immaculate, free of blemishes and weathering. She was today as she was a decade ago, perfectly and unnaturally young. People live and die questioning their own existence, "what is the point of living?" and questioning their purpose. As a whole, humanity is utterly insignificant, discovering laws and theories that define in understandable terms the function of the natural world that governs those that live upon its soil. But even then, men and women could make differences to their people by doing exactly those things, encouraging social and scientific progress, encouraging peace between nations which, personified by people such as Lili, were still so petty and shackled to the past that advancing forward could only be achieved in war. What was the point of immortal folk like Lili existing, if the people they are supposed to represent do so little to respect the things they desire. She imagined that the world was full of intelligent people who merely didn't speak up and allowed the world to be governed by people who had no business being in politics. The opposite is always accomplished.
What was the point of her immortality, her imperviousness to time and change, her unwillingness to conform to the natural laws of progress and rebirth? Even ageless objects such as rocks are eventually recycled back into the earth to make way for the new generation. Will she one day be recycled and replaced by a new version of herself, or someone entirely different? Still, what was the point? Why was she here? Why was she not some normal child who would make friends, get married, grow old, and die like the rest of them? How silly she was now, pondering such questions when the task at hand was to find a place to sleep peacefully. Obviously this mental tirade was prompted by sleep deprivation, but she wondered if she would wake up free from this kind of thought or if it would continue to bother her upon waking. More than anything she wanted an answer, if not to her question of existence then to her question of location. Were it possible she was sure all of them would have been out of the house a while ago, but clearly this was an impossible feat as she could not remember the last time she'd even seen an exit. On the third floor she wouldn't even consider jumping out a window. Convinced death was not an option, she could only picture in her mind her contorted, crumpled body laying in the damp grass, agonized but unable to succumb.
One locked door, another whose lock knob jiggled with suspicious instability. She didn't trust it at all. A door like that could either be picked easily or kicked down with equal effortlessness, not that Lili was going to go down kicking doors down out of curiosity. The next door she happened upon opened gracefully, the door creaking not even slightly as it fell open with a hushed whisper. The room was unlit, but from the light in the hallway she could make out a grand bedroom. Musty and, from the looks of the bed, unused, for the pillows were fluffed and the sheets and crimson, gold-trimmed blankets were set out as if no one had touched them in years. If this room was one that saw little use, then perhaps she could be safe enough here to lie down for an hour or two and catch up on some much-needed sleep. She could already feel her eyes drooping as the bed wordlessly beckoned her closer. To her immediate right as she stepped into the room was a lantern which she immediately lit.
The bright colors of the room were a pleasant, incongruous change to the corridor that lay out the door. Closing the deep chestnut door behind her she took in the vague familiarity. It felt safe here, as if she could sit in here forever and not be touched at all by anything threatening. It reminded her of home - wherever that was at this point, and pressing her hand down into the mattress she could feel only feathers, hopefully trimmed free of the bits that would poke up through the sheets and prick her in her sleep. It was a minor complaint, but she much preferred feathers to spring regardless of the pain involved. Slipping off her shoes she embedded her toes in the soft, cotton carpet. It was the kind of carpet that tickled feet as one moved alone it, the kind of carpet one could lie upon and sleep comfortably if one had too. Ahh, she loved it. She consciously decided if she ever found her way back here she would make this her temporary home. This reveling, however, was rather quickly and brutally destroyed by a pounding that shook the inner walls. She whirled around and stared at the door, wide-eyed as if she were caught in the headlights of an approaching vehicle.
Footsteps. They were approaching fast, from the hallway, stopping by certain portions to slam the walls or doors again. They would come upon this room she was currently in, see the light, and charge in, guns drawn and screaming like a maniac. Her fatigue-induced paranoia convinced this possibility was the only event that could happen and she frantically looked at her surroundings, hoping for a weapon or shield to be hanging from the walls - neither existed, though the largest potential 'weapon' she did she was an antique porcelain lamp standing tall on a nightstand neighboring the impossibly soft bed. The knob jiggled for only a moment, too brief for Lili to even prepare herself for what would emerge the moment after. She recognized the figure who stood in the wooden frame as the door flew open, but he was covered in blood and carried with him, yes, a gun. Just as she had imagined.
Her screech was brief. She didn't have time to over-dramatically scream out for help, there would be no help here. However, her motion to find protection was all but graceful. She turned, promptly tripped over her own feet and landed face-first into a chest of drawers that stood behind her. Adrenaline pumping through her, she ignored the suggestion of pain and pulled herself back onto her feet, trying to stabilizing herself with one hand and grapple for the lamp with the other. A lamp wasn't going to do a thing against a gun, but it was better than nothing. If all else failed she could charge him, hope to catch him off guard, and then duck into the hallway and flee for her life, but her reflexes were almost dead and completely uncooperative at that point, as her beautiful collapse to the floor perfectly illustrated. She held the lamp by the shaft in front of her, emulating the stance one would take using a large broadsword, or at least a vague imitation of a stance she might have seen in a movie. The only motion her body made then as a dripping of liquid down her face. Blood? She felt no pain and couldn't ascertain that was true.
It was Süditalien, but regardless of her familiarity with this man, his appearance only spoke ill of his intent.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 8, 2014 20:44:05 GMT -6
She was standing right there by the bed, apparently on the verge of lying down. The poor girl must have been exhausted. Romano could empathize, having gone prolonged periods of time here without sleeping as well. Before she even had the chance to get off her feet, he had interrupted her peace, and now her tiny frame froze in place, shocked stiff. Her wide, sea green eyes flicked toward his form, and all he could do was stare, breathing heavily as she analyzed his appearance. No doubt she was taking into account the gore plastered to his person, his disheveled costume and messy hair. Her eyes locked onto the gun in his hand, and his heart sharply sunk. He didn't need to see the fear in her eyes to know that she must have saw him as a threat. In all honesty, he felt like one himself.
His own eyes were sullen and tired, reflecting his emotional and physical exhaustion as he tried to meet her gaze. "L-Liechtenstein," he addressed quietly and slowly so as not to incite panic. Alas, it was all to no avail. In less than a split second after opening his mouth, a shrill wail left hers. "Liechtenstein, wait!" His tone became urgent, but didn't lift in volume. He sounded about as tired as he looked, and as he stepped toward her, hand outstretched, even his footfalls were heavy. He neglected to consider how terrifying it must have been for her to have a blood-covered man with a gun to suddenly reach for her, but there was still plenty of distance between them, and she was too busy trying to get away to take much note of his approach. Suddenly, she collapsed, eliciting a sharp gasp and pained wince from Romano as her face collided with the dresser drawers behind her. She seemed to brush it off fairly quickly, however, getting back up a moment later and grabbing a nearby lamp for…self-defense? Did she not have a weapon?
He looked around the room, half expecting to see a sword or rifle or slingshot. Just anything that she could use should she run into trouble. Indeed, the lamp was the only feasible weapon around. Of course she wouldn't have a weapon, he thought, letting his hand drop limply to his side as he eyed her from across the room. We had come here for a costume party. Why would anyone need a weapon for a costume party? A costume party. He had been rotting away within these walls for so long, he had almost forgotten. Looking her over, he raised both his eyebrows. No scars, bruises, or visible injuries– leave, of course, the slight trickle of blood he deduced she received just then from the fall (to which he immediately apologized for scaring her into it). She was undeniably clean, especially in comparison to Romano's current state. Of course, time flowed differently in this manor than from the rest of the world. Evidence of this was spread throughout his interactions with others. After spending a day or two at the manor, he found that Veneziano was there long enough to have died. Several days later, he encountered a Seborga that had only just arrived. It was completely possible that Liechtenstein herself had only just arrived, and simply hadn't been here long enough to see the darker side of the manor. Why else would she feel so comfortable letting her guard down to attempt a nap?
Shaking his head, he frowned. She shouldn't be here. As skittish as she was, things would only get worse from here. She had no weapon, and her athletic abilities were questionable considering her little fall (although he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps it was just because she was tired?). She wouldn't last a minute if she had seen the things he'd seen. He wouldn't wish what he'd been through on anyone, even "that potato bastard". It wasn't fair that Liechtenstein, of all people, would be brought to this awful place. She had never done anything to deserve this! Please, God, spare her at least! he silently prayed, eyes rolling up to the ceiling as a sigh escaped his lips. Then, turning to the girl, he pointed the barrel of his gun to the floor, taking care to keep his finger as far away from the trigger as he could without dropping it.
"Liechtenstein, it's okay…" he said in a low voice. "I'm coming in now, va bene?" He said it not so much to ask for permission, but to warn her so he wouldn't frighten her even more. Stepping fully into the room, he closed the door behind him so that nothing could sneak up on the two. Open doors in this house made him anxious. "I'm not going to hurt you," he went on to say, keeping his tone as gentle as he could. "Look, I'm putting my gun down, see?" He was relieved to have it lying on the ground once again, a load being lifted off his shoulders both physically and metaphorically. As long as it wasn't in his hands, he couldn't hurt anyone. He could stay true to his promise. Taking several steps away from it, he still kept his distance from the smaller nation. She just looked so afraid– but not from anything she had seen in the manor, no. She was afraid of him. Lovino. The monster. His face twisted into one of sorrow. He was hurt. He was offended that she would even consider he would harm her, but what hurt even more was the notion that he might have, he could have killed her had the circumstances been just slightly different. He was a monster, and he knew it. So why did it hurt so much to have her look at him like one?
He averted his gaze, wanting to look at something, anything but her frightened eyes. Noting a vase full of flowers on a little end table pushed to the side of the room, Romano was reminded of how desperately he wanted to get cleaned up. Was there water in the vase? It wouldn't be much, but it was better than nothing. Making his way over to it, he removed the flowers and swished around the water inside. No, there definitely wasn't much…
"Are you all right?" he asked suddenly, looking over to her. It was a broad question. He could have been referring simply to her little stumble and the tiny scratch on her head. More likely, he was referring to her entire experience at the manor. How many hours have you spent here? How many nations have you seen? How long have you been running? Hiding? Wondering about the noises you've no doubt heard within the walls? How tired are you? Hungry? Do you even know that we can die here? So many unasked questions flew through his mind. He didn't want to overwhelm her more than he already had, though, so he bit his lip and swallowed the words before they could leave his mouth. He would stick with the simple question. He would ask her the heavier things when she had calmed down some and learned to trust him. After I've learned to trust myself…
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Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2014 15:45:22 GMT -6
She overreacted.
That was the horrible, most basic truth. Her dulled senses pulled her easily into a state of panic, despite her familiarity with the Italian that stood in her doorway. Were she conscious of her actions, she might have felt ashamed, but her apology would have to come later. For now, she eyed him as he locked off her exit and stood guard in front of her basket, which sat on a desk near the door. Her guard was just... so overactive. Poor Romano...
It wasn't until he put his gun down that she also lowered her own weapon and breathed freely of the thick air in the room. The atmosphere was absolutely strangling, and the closed door didn't make it any better. She'd much rather have the door open than force the air to stagnant and choke her, but that was only because, unlike Lovino, she wasn't aware of the dangers that would be invited inside.
The Liechtensteinerin wasn't aware of the detrimental effect she was having on her Italian guest. she had no clue what he'd just been through, and thought perhaps that his nervous demeanor was a product of her reaction to his appearance. Cautiously, she replaced the lamp back on the desk and straightening out the shade. By now, the rush of adrenaline was starting to run its course, and an unfamiliar throbbing began to overtake the side of her head from where the blood was slowly, but steadily seeping. She must have hit the corner or something, it felt as if she'd been smashed in the head with a baseball bat.
"Are you all right?" he asked her. Normal questions, no hint of deceit. Sincere concern. It was comforting.
Energy leaving her once again, she responded to his question with a yawn. "I've been better," she replied simply. "I don't know how long I've been awake, I just wanted a few minutes of rest." Maybe an hour or two, but there was no sleep to be had now. Not with Romano having thoroughly frightened her out of her skin. His gun was gone, but the blood... still obvious. Still worrying. "Is that yours?"
Her hand gestured to his entire being, to the stains on his clothes, the red caked on his hands. Despite this, his face seemed to mimic hers in the sheer amount of exhaustion, but she could tell he'd been dealing with it far longer than she had. The party seemed like a recent memory, perhaps only a day behind with over twenty-four hours of terrified wandering to fill the gap. Clearly, Romano had been around much longer - time enough to have bags under his eyes, time enough to kill.
The concept of the Manor's passage of time had not yet sunk in, so she was left wondering how such a feat could be accomplished, unless the manor had suddenly turned into an arena, in which case she was convinced she was already dead. She lacked firearms, real weapons. Even if she chose to fight, she couldn't hold a candle to even Romano, who had discarded his gun in favor of gaining trust she did not yet feel comfortable giving. It was too soon after that scare.
For now, she only pulled herself up onto the bed and hugged her knees, listening for his answer. She didn't want a fight. If he was willing to set aside his firearm for the sake of a truce... she was at least thankful for that. "Are you alone, here?"
Alone, like her.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 2, 2014 16:44:37 GMT -6
Romano was painfully aware of the tension in the room. It only seemed to thicken as he closed the door. He could feel Liechtenstein watching his every move, ever cautious. Even when he surrendered his arms, she still regarded him with upmost suspicion. As much as it pained him, he couldn't really blame her. She had been looking for sanctuary, and he – albeit accidentally – disturbed her peace. Not that there was such a thing as sanctuary in this place. At least, not by oneself. But she couldn't be expected to know that, could she? No, not yet. Perhaps it was for the best he showed up when he did.
When the girl yawned, Romano felt himself relax just a bit. Perhaps it just reminded him how very tired he was himself, and being so tense, he wanted a moment to breathe easy. Indeed, he felt himself suppressing a yawn of his own, swallowing it back down before he could let himself calm down too much. It could also have been the mere innocence of such a delicate girl wanting for sleep. In a place where rest was a death wish, it was oddly refreshing to see someone so young be completely unafraid of letting her fatigue be known. In answer to his question, she claimed to have only wanted a few minutes. A few minutes, though, was not enough to escape. It wasn't enough to fully recuperate; Romano knew this from experience. It was unfair, being cheated out of a fully relaxing sleep due to the fear, the guilt that continued to chase him even in his dreams. Trying to rest now would be no less stressful than being awake and alert, and Romano envied Liechtenstein for having not reached that point quite yet.
"Is that yours?"
Liechtenstein's question called him out of his thoughts, and Romano realized he had been staring. Not quite at the girl, no, but beyond her. He was tired, and the thought of sleep had been enough to put him in a trance. Blinking a couple of times to let the words process, he noted her hand motion, gesturing towards him. At first thinking she meant his costume, he was about to answer yes when he realized she was talking about the blood staining his costume. His mouth sealed shut, and he looked at himself. He knew since he walked into the room that the question was coming, but that didn't make it any easier to answer. He was tempted to say yes, it was. He was willing to say anything to get her to stop being so afraid of him. But that answer would have been too obvious a lie. He was not without his fair share of cuts and scrapes, but none were quite big enough to account for the amount of gore he sported. He swallowed back a response and looked to her again, reflecting on a prudent response.
"Liechtenstein, people are dying here," he said simply after much thought. "I did everything I could–" His voice wavered, and he clenched his teeth, biting back the rest of his words before he broke completely. He would let her imagination finish the sentence. Maybe she would think him determined, a hero. He didn't care, so long as she didn't know him as the selfish coward he really was. I did everything I could to save myself. He averted his gaze, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall on his sleeve. He wouldn't cry, not openly, and not in front of her. He cleared his throat and forced himself to stop shaking, though he leaned over the table he was standing beside, head ducked and fingers gripping the wood so tightly his knuckles turned white. He didn't look at her. How could he? "I did what I had to. So, per favore, just stop looking at me like I'm a murderer!" He had started shouting. He didn't mean to, knowing full well it would just frighten her even more, but he couldn't stand her horror-filled glances any longer. He could have flipped the table – he had seriously considered it – but instead, took several shaky breaths and ever slowly loosened his grip on the table. Getting so worked up was not good for convincing her he was not a homicidal maniac.
Returning his attention to the vase once more, the stink of rotting vegetation invaded his nostrils. It would have made him gag if the metallic stench of someone else's blood was not infinitely more unpleasant. Besides, he himself had been rotting within these walls long enough; one more foul smell would not have made much of a difference. Pouring the water into his cupped hand, he began to feverishly scrub off the filth. The water that dripped to the floor was tainted, puddling in a muddy-red mess. He could never get clean enough. His hands were stained, forever a testament to the price of cowardice. Realizing how futile his attempts were, he splashed some water onto his face, hoping at the very least to wake himself up and keep him attentive.
"Are you alone here?" she innocently asked as he swept the droplets out of his eyes with his still-damp hands. He brushed wet bangs out of his face as he turned to look at her once more. She was curled up on the bed, crouched in a ball. She looked so small, so vulnerable. Immediately, he was overcome with the desire to protect her. He wanted to shield her from the darker part of the manor, the part she obviously hadn't encountered yet. He wanted to keep her safe from the shadows, shelter her from the monsters, and stand post at her bedside so she could peacefully attain the sleep she desperately craved. He wanted to, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't even protect his own brothers.
"I…sí." he answered with a small nod, eyes trained on the floor. "My…my brothers are here somewhere, but…" He shrugged. "I haven't seen either of them in a while now." He wasn't even sure if they were still alive. As far as he knew, he could be the only one left. His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering and unblinking, but so full of sorrow. "It's hard to stay together in this place. Hold tightly to company, because you never know when you'll find someone else." He found himself zoning out once again, staring into that place beyond the girl in front of him. "It could be an hour. Or a week." You never know if you'll even walk away from the encounter alive…
He looked at the bed, ever inviting. He knew he could never allow himself to let his guard down even enough to put up his feet. Instead he eyed Liechtenstein with envy and leaned against the wall. "Mi dispiace…" he uttered quietly. "For scaring you, I mean. And I know you don't entirely trust me, but…" He couldn't leave her by herself. For her sake, but also his own. Even as tense as she was, her mere presence was comforting. He wasn't alone. He nodded at his gun. "Can you fire that?" If his presence was no longer desired – he completely understood if it wasn't – at the very least, he could give her a better weapon than a stupid lamp.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2014 21:21:55 GMT -6
"Liechtenstein, people are dying here,” she felt herself tremble at the admission. She had a feeling. There was something evil about this place, and to say she hadn’t vaguely felt like she should be watching her back would be a lie. It felt silly to be paranoid of nothing, but this was not nothing. This was a man covered in blood in a building that surely wished to pit them all against each other for its own amusement. For her sake and Romano's, she would not willingly allow such a conflict to come to pass between them. “I did what I had to. So, per favore, just stop looking at me like I'm a murderer!"
Her eyes averted then, ashamed. She couldn’t have any knowledge of what he’d been through to need to do whatever had to be done. From what she’d seen so far, whatever story he had couldn’t be too far-fetched.
Her first thought, then, was self-defense, but she would not pry. The man was clearly shaken by what had happened. His voice wavered, eyes tired as if haunted by his most recent kill. She was not a killer herself, but she knew someone who was, and his nature was built on paranoia and a finger pressed perpetually to his nearest trigger. Liechtenstein unfurled her body and sat back up to watch the Italian across the room. He was normally always with his brother. They were a pair, it was almost impossible to find one without the other. To hear him speak of them in this way, worried with a hint of hopelessness, on top of the very real possibility that they could be… gone… People are dying here, after all.
She shifted on the bed uncomfortably. She was not unsympathetic to his plight. In fact, she knew the feeling all too well. Her first priority since realizing where she was, was to find her brother. She could barely remember even entering the building with him, but there was no way she’d have come anywhere near the Manor without him at her arm.
“I have not seen them,” she admitted. “and I assume you haven’t seen my brother at all, either. I’ve lost him, too.” Her gaze fell to the floor, blinking back tears. Wiping her tears on he sleeve she glanced back up at the Italian, giving him a weak, tired smile. “If you want to partner up, I’m fine with that. We can find our brothers together!”
“Hold onto company, right?” Lili slowly hopped back down onto the floor, her toes touching and digging into the soft carpet. He had no gun and was willing to put it away to gain her trust. Lie or not, it worked, and the girl timidly made her way over with her hand outstretched. “I don’t want to be alone again. In this place, maybe meeting like this was meant to be. You startled me— I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
He gestured to the gun. She didn’t want to look at it, but nodded her acknowledgement. “Y-Yes. Bruder taught me. I’m a decent shot, I think…”
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Post by Deleted on May 3, 2014 15:34:53 GMT -6
Romano could tell that his words made it through by Liechtenstein's downcast stare. He got what she asked for: she stopped looking at him like the monster he was. The relief he felt was sickening. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For her to not be afraid of him? But the trust of one girl was hardly enough to erase the fact: he killed Mexico in cold blooded murder. Liechtenstein didn't blame him, but she also didn't know. If she did, would she still be so comfortable being in the same room with him? Maybe, maybe not. Romano wasn't in any mood to find out. He would hold onto this small reassurance that he had somebody, even if that somebody could never know just what he'd been through since coming here. Some things would have to be kept secret. But how long could he let these thoughts fester inside him before they drove him insane? He wanted a confidant, someone who would get this weight off his chest, someone who could guarantee forgiveness, but since when did he have someone he could trust, let alone with something so grave? Never. Not even his own brothers, and not even Spain. For as long as he could remember, Romano had been alone. There wouldn't ever be true relief for him.
To say he was very disappointed that she hadn't seen his brothers would have been a lie. In fact, he'd be very surprised if she had seen them at all. While encounters between people weren't rare, it was nearly impossible to find someone if you were specifically looking for them. Not to mention that there was that complicating matter with time differences, so even if she had encountered his brothers at all, it could have been anywhere between minutes to months ago, maybe years. In all honesty, he had given up trying to find them by now. It was all he could do to keep himself alive. Though if he happened to run across them again, it would take all the demonic powers this manor possessed to tear him away from them as it had before. He'd sooner die then let them out of his sight, and knowing this place, that might just be how it will end if he finds them at all. Then maybe everything he did would be worthwhile…
"…I assume you haven't seen my brother at all, either. I've lost him, too." Something in her voice cracked, and Romano's heart broke all over again. He knew that feeling of loss, of knowing you were separated from someone so close to you. He knew that the odds were slim she'd ever be reunited with him again, yet he wanted so desperately for her to have more luck than he had. She still had hope, and he wanted her to find Switzerland before she lost that along with her brother.
"No, I haven't…sorry…" was his half-hearted reply. His spirits sunk even lower as she wiped her eyes, apparently crying. Why? She had no reason to cry yet. Not until she's seen a vision of her brother dead before her. If it wasn't obvious before, it was painfully evident now. This place was going to crush her. It had crushed Romano, and after he had gone to such lengths to avoid it…
And then she smiled. The smile in itself was bittersweet– that was the emotion that it communicated. But even more bittersweet was the fact that he knew it wouldn't last. As it was, the gesture was strained. It wouldn't be long before it was wiped completely from her face, nothing more than a memory of the sweetness that was her smile. How could he just stand by and let that happen? Wasn't there anything he could do for her? Anything at all?
"If you want to partner up, I'm fine with that. We can find our brothers together! Hold onto company, right?"
Romano's heart sped as she neared him, hand outstretched. Inwardly panicking, he had to resist the urge to take her hand and pull her into a warm embrace. He didn't want to touch her, not now. "Hold onto company." That's what he said mere moments before, but now? He wasn't sure he could follow his own advice. What if something happened that would result in losing her? What if something happened that would result in killing her? If he were to encounter Switzerland, would he be able to look him in the eye and say his dear sibling was dead? The thought of doing so hurt him because it was terrifyingly easy to imagine someone else doing the same thing to him.
"I don't want to be alone again…" She voiced his thoughts out loud. And as long as she was here, he didn't have to be. With a smile twice as forced and infinitely more fake, Romano's shaky hand reached for Liechtenstein's, trembling fingers outstretched. Her willingness to help was refreshing…although entirely pointless. There was no hope in this hellhole. He drew his hand back before his skin could touch hers, but not before noting the stark contrast between his rough, stained skin and her smooth, white. So much purity… he shouldn't be in the same room as her. He'll stay with her if that was what she wanted, but there wasn't any point if he couldn't stop the darkness from sucking up her spirit.
She confirmed that she could fire his weapon, and he was quick to refocus his attention on that. It was exactly what he needed to hear. "Go pick it up," he said suddenly, his smile vanished as though it was never there. "You'll need it more than I will." He swallowed thickly. He could tell by her deliberate disregard for the weapon that she didn't want to go anywhere near it, but if she was going to survive in a place like this… he wasn't about to let her just die without any way of defending herself. Already enough time had passed in the room that he was growing uncomfortable without his gun in his hand, but he kept his distance for the sake of Liechtenstein's comfort. Nevertheless, at least one of them should have a weapon on the ever-increasing chance that something deadly would interrupt them. He nodded encouragingly, hoping the urgency in his voice had been enough to get the message across.
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