Post by Spain on Sept 19, 2014 13:01:01 GMT -6
Although Antonio didn't like to admit it, the more time he spent walking the first floor's hallways in search for something familiar, the clearer it became that he had no choice but concede not knowing where he was - or why, for that matter. Most people would have probably said they were lost at that point, but the Spaniard wasn't willing to spew around such negative phrases that easily, not even in his head. He wasn't lost - he just wasn't completely in the know of his whereabouts. And besides, if you knew neither your starting point nor destination, could you really even say you were lost?
... Ah, woops. That wasn't such a positive thought either, was it? How uncharacteristic of him, true as it was; ever since he'd woken up on the cold wet floor underneath the stairs some time ago, he'd basically done nothing but wander around aimlessly in search for answers to questions he didn't even know. He had no idea how long it had been since he'd awoken and certainly not how long it'd been since he'd first set foot into the manor in hopes of attending a party, and the more he tried to remember, the further away his memories seemed to fade.
It was a very strange, very chilling feeling, and Antonio preferred not to think about it. He didn't want the slowly growing feeling of dread in his chest to grow any stronger than it already was. He never was good with dealing negativity, especially not when there was a way to escape it in sight. True, he didn't remember what had happened to him since he'd entered - but there was no real evidence anywhere in sight that it had to be something bad. What if this was all just a prank, pulled by either Alfred or heck, his two best friends? It sounded like something right up their ally. Any minute now, the rest of the party crew could jump at him from behind a corner or a door and make a fool out of him for being superstitious enough to truly believe in haunted houses. And he wouldn't mind, really.
Yup, that had to be it. All he'd have to do to see all his friends and former underlings again was to find the right door to open. And considering he'd only searched about a quarter of the first floor so far, there was no fear of him running out of places to look in anytime soon. He might as well relax and take this as a new, fun game. The man did always have a strong need for adventure, for exploration and conquest of the unknown - and in today's world, that was a need rather impossible to fill. There were no more unexplored lands left on the planet, and unlike Alfred and Ivan, he wasn't that interested in expanding his search to space. Now, this place? This place was intriguing. New. And he couldn't wait until he found its treasures.
Just as that thought brought an old spark of passionate excitement into the Mediterranean's gaze, he noticed standing straight in front of a closed door. He blinked, taking a while to process that his small trip had apparently come to a temporary end. Out of all the doors littered around the floor, his legs had seemed to bring him to this one almost as if by reflex - it would be a shame not to see what's behind it. So, shrugging with a smile, the Spaniard reached for the worn old handle and pushed it down, one foot already ready to push its way inside.
And as the door opened, Antonio's curiosity turned into amusement and an involuntary chuckle escaped past his lips. Unlike the dimly lit, at times narrow hallways, the room he'd stepped into was large, bright and so very familiar. It was a kitchen, grand, beautiful and seemingly usable despite the place's old age.
To think that his feet had brought him to a kitchen... Not much had changed in hundreds of years, it seemed. He always was good at finding food. Call it good instincts, a sharp nose or just a very demanding (and often-empty) stomach. Well, in any case, now that he was here, it would be a waste not to cook up something quick to last him through the rest of his search. There was no telling how far from the entrance the others had hidden, and a full stomach was sure to ease the lingering worry he still felt somewhere in the back of his mind. And, hey, who knew; maybe the delicious smell of his cooking would even help lure out some of his friends. He knew Lovino in particular had a tough time resisting the temptation of a good dinner, if the past was any indication.
The thought of the Italian rushing into the room and demanding a portion of whatever it was he was cooking made the Spaniard smile to himself and even break out into humming as he opened cupboards and peeked into the fridge to scout out what kind of ingredients the house had to offer. To his surprise, the choices seemed to be plentiful. Now all he had to do was decide what to make. Too bad there was no clock of any sort in sight - he would have loved to know whether it was time for breakfast or dinner at the very least, but, well, no helping it. His stomach wanted something big - so paella it'd be.
His mind made, the Spaniard rolled up his sleeves, let his axe lean against one of the cupboards to his right and got into preparing his dish. And the further in his cooking he got, the more focused he became in both his work and hum and hence, didn't even notice when another living soul entered the room.
... Ah, woops. That wasn't such a positive thought either, was it? How uncharacteristic of him, true as it was; ever since he'd woken up on the cold wet floor underneath the stairs some time ago, he'd basically done nothing but wander around aimlessly in search for answers to questions he didn't even know. He had no idea how long it had been since he'd awoken and certainly not how long it'd been since he'd first set foot into the manor in hopes of attending a party, and the more he tried to remember, the further away his memories seemed to fade.
It was a very strange, very chilling feeling, and Antonio preferred not to think about it. He didn't want the slowly growing feeling of dread in his chest to grow any stronger than it already was. He never was good with dealing negativity, especially not when there was a way to escape it in sight. True, he didn't remember what had happened to him since he'd entered - but there was no real evidence anywhere in sight that it had to be something bad. What if this was all just a prank, pulled by either Alfred or heck, his two best friends? It sounded like something right up their ally. Any minute now, the rest of the party crew could jump at him from behind a corner or a door and make a fool out of him for being superstitious enough to truly believe in haunted houses. And he wouldn't mind, really.
Yup, that had to be it. All he'd have to do to see all his friends and former underlings again was to find the right door to open. And considering he'd only searched about a quarter of the first floor so far, there was no fear of him running out of places to look in anytime soon. He might as well relax and take this as a new, fun game. The man did always have a strong need for adventure, for exploration and conquest of the unknown - and in today's world, that was a need rather impossible to fill. There were no more unexplored lands left on the planet, and unlike Alfred and Ivan, he wasn't that interested in expanding his search to space. Now, this place? This place was intriguing. New. And he couldn't wait until he found its treasures.
Just as that thought brought an old spark of passionate excitement into the Mediterranean's gaze, he noticed standing straight in front of a closed door. He blinked, taking a while to process that his small trip had apparently come to a temporary end. Out of all the doors littered around the floor, his legs had seemed to bring him to this one almost as if by reflex - it would be a shame not to see what's behind it. So, shrugging with a smile, the Spaniard reached for the worn old handle and pushed it down, one foot already ready to push its way inside.
And as the door opened, Antonio's curiosity turned into amusement and an involuntary chuckle escaped past his lips. Unlike the dimly lit, at times narrow hallways, the room he'd stepped into was large, bright and so very familiar. It was a kitchen, grand, beautiful and seemingly usable despite the place's old age.
To think that his feet had brought him to a kitchen... Not much had changed in hundreds of years, it seemed. He always was good at finding food. Call it good instincts, a sharp nose or just a very demanding (and often-empty) stomach. Well, in any case, now that he was here, it would be a waste not to cook up something quick to last him through the rest of his search. There was no telling how far from the entrance the others had hidden, and a full stomach was sure to ease the lingering worry he still felt somewhere in the back of his mind. And, hey, who knew; maybe the delicious smell of his cooking would even help lure out some of his friends. He knew Lovino in particular had a tough time resisting the temptation of a good dinner, if the past was any indication.
The thought of the Italian rushing into the room and demanding a portion of whatever it was he was cooking made the Spaniard smile to himself and even break out into humming as he opened cupboards and peeked into the fridge to scout out what kind of ingredients the house had to offer. To his surprise, the choices seemed to be plentiful. Now all he had to do was decide what to make. Too bad there was no clock of any sort in sight - he would have loved to know whether it was time for breakfast or dinner at the very least, but, well, no helping it. His stomach wanted something big - so paella it'd be.
His mind made, the Spaniard rolled up his sleeves, let his axe lean against one of the cupboards to his right and got into preparing his dish. And the further in his cooking he got, the more focused he became in both his work and hum and hence, didn't even notice when another living soul entered the room.