Survivor
22.
Played by Hat.
Offline.
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Post by Prussia on May 28, 2012 20:42:27 GMT -6
Someone was calling to him.
Gilbert could hear it even deep within the void of unconsciousness that left him drifting in darkness.
It was a struggle just for him to respond to that distant sound. His first awareness was the alarming rate of speed that his heart was currently drumming in his ribcage, the albino rousing from that darkness already in a state of alarm. Gilbert slowly felt the control of his limbs returning to him as if a caul of numb were peeling away. He anchored himself with curling fingers digging into soil, and when a red eye finally squinted open to send an initially blind sweep across the blades of grass in his face, the Prussian became all too succinctly aware that his environment had changed.
"Ach... Schiesse." His deliverence from that unwilling state of rest brought with it immediate pain. The albino reached up to the worst point, pale fingers marked by a slight tremor as he probed them upon his skull to locate where an injury might have been. Gilbert didn't find one -- or at least he couldn't find any blood or fracture -- and that alone was something to be thankful for. Even if he did feel like he were suffering from the worst hangover of his entire existence.
There was still some resistence from his muscles. Gilbert felt as if he'd been out all night in some frozen place, at least long enough for the surrounding chill to permeate deep into his bones. He labored himself upright with a groan, torso sagged over his legs and the Prussian started flexing his fingers to get the circulation back into them. Not certain of how he had arrived at this point or in this condition motivated Gilbert to conduct a quick inventory to check that all of his limbs were accounted for. In this place, one never knew if something could have come to flounce off with a leg or two.
Once he'd established that his body was intact, with no other issues except for the cold, Gilbert's attention turned next to his environment. The Prussian forced himself to his feet with a grumble. His equilibrium was still off, causing him to sway. He found a better balance for his footing and began to survey his surroundings with a wary red gaze. Gilbert was able to piece together several facts quickly just from that initial look.
First, that he was outside of the Manor. He'd caught glimpses of the grounds through windows in passing. The fog that had been swirling around out here was no less appealing up close then it had been from the indoor view. Second, it was freezing. Gilbert could not claim himself to be any kind of geological expert(though he would have claimed it if asked), yet it seemed a defiance of natural logic that a steamy swamp in America's southern territory would yield this sort of frost even with the time of year. And third, he seemed to be entirely alone.
So who had he heard calling to him?
"Caw!" The sudden shriek of a crow from behind him caused Gilbert to jolt. He twisted with a scowl to face it, mouth opening in a desire to shoo the bird off with his own growling retort. Gilbert found, as his gaze crept up the massive, gnarled trunk of the towering tree that it was perched upon, that his voice suddenly would not work. The Prussian went slack faced, slowly pivoting the rest of the way around to take in the full scope of what he had woken up in the shadow of.
As if it sensed the closer proximity of the albino, that crow's wings lifted as it took flight. Black feathers were discarded in the rustle as the bird went sailing off into the obscurity of the fog. Gilbert barely noticed its departure. He was too fixated upon what was suspended beneath where the crow had been perched. Upon the nooses that hung heavy, swaying now and then as if they still bore invisible burdens.
He stared at the sight for minutes. It didn't even dawn on him that he was holding his breath. And soon that motionless figure went into action as Gilbert felt a slow burn of anger bubbling up to sear away some of the fear that was threaded through every nerve. "What is this shit?! You playing a game with me now? Don't think you can make a fool out of me!" Gilbert shouted up at those branches, to the menacing hulk of that silent sentinel -- even at the fog clinging at his skin. Sharp features contorted with rage as the Prussian stalked up to kick at one of the roots of the tree as if doing so might vent all of his frustrations with this place. "Come on then! Did you bring me out here for nothing? You want to tangle with Prussia? Then come face me, coward! Let's get on with it!"
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Post by Fear on May 31, 2012 21:02:54 GMT -6
Fear was idly amused by the waking human. The spirit itself possessed no body, no living face, but that was of little concern. Only when Fear was alone did it exist in such a form. Eerie black mist lingered around the Hanging Tree, where the moaning nation (or in this case, ex-nation) was slowly coming to. Fear would smile if it could, for the joy it felt as its icy tendrils invaded the human's skull. The action resulted in pain within the victim, but as normal, Fear was passed off as some sort of headache.
Accessing memories was never painless, but it could be more pronounced in others. For example, this one wasn't taking to the treatment very well. The notion was necessary though. Memories always held information that Fear could, and would, use against its victims. For there to be fear, there had to be a reason behind it. People weren't born afraid of inanimate objects or certain events. Death itself was a natural process that made any human uncomfortable, but Fear engorged on the fact that there were certain ways to exploit human weakness. Some hated the thought of burial, others feared dying in fire. Some didn't even fear death, but other events in life could cripple their natural state. Like this one for instance. Fear was able to draw out what this nation feared, and had full intentions of bringing those terrors to life.
The wispy fingers that had provided Fear with information retreated as the Prussian nation began to reach full consciousness. The mist evaporated, disappearing from the chilled air before the albino could notice. Now, as its body formed, Fear could feel its giddy anticipation growing. It had a plan in its corrupted mind that would exploit both of the ex-nations largest fears, but not without making him suffer first. Crows aided Fear's incantation of fog as their raspy caws only added to the ambiance. Though it no longer had its 'fingers' intertwined in the male's head, it could feel his unease. Perfect. Fear had to wipe the smile from its expression as the albino spoke out.
Fear couldn't help but grin. It was still shrouded in fog, providing enough cover for the moment at it saw through the hollow words. Covering fear with a trail of anger? Frustrations? Tsk tsk, shouldn't the ex-nation know better than to blatantly show his insecurities? Instead of admitting his fears, he only covered them up with a poor coating of anger, similar to a child hiding soiled bedsheets and denying the act. There was little wind in the area, but enough to slowly expose the body that Fear itself had taken on. The farthest branch had been hidden in mist, but the white haze slowly peeled away from the dirtied brown boots.
More haze began to disappear as a gentle, innocent breeze nudged the body into a softly swinging motion. More than just a dark shadow was revealed as wrinkled green army pants became visible. The rest of the low clouds gently sagged from the body, exposing exactly what had Fear had turned itself into. The one thing that the Prussian secretly feared above all else.
Germany.
The body itself appeared to be devoid of life. Limbs were still and hung inanimately at the sides as they had been hanging there for days. The body itself was yet to decompose. In fact, it appeared to look like it had been hung recently. The German's face was blanched of all colour, leaving the skin an unnatural white tone, save for the darkened skin on the neck where the noose held tight. Fear had to mentally pat itself on the back for this one. It believed that it had done quite the job here as a lone crow cawed in the distance. Save for the black bird, the area was as silent as death.
The dead German's eyes slowly opened, blankly staring ahead in silence. Ever so slowly, the dulled gaze rose to make eye contact with the Prussian, the apparent 'other' half of Germany. Aside from the slow motion, the body did not move. It merely stared with a lifeless fixation. The blue edge was still prominent in the milky whites as Fear opened his mouth and mirrored the German's voice perfectly. The voice that was rarely used, mainly from the distant memories of a younger Prussia, where Germany was softer and needed protection from the world. A Germany that sounded hurt and almost bitter about it.
“Bruder...warum hast du nicht früher gekommen?” //Brother... why did you not come sooner?
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Survivor
22.
Played by Hat.
Offline.
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Post by Prussia on May 31, 2012 22:47:45 GMT -6
"Vas...?" Out of the many corners of his imagination's potential, what Gilbert had expected might emerge to confront him certainly wasn't a sight like this. He stumbled back a step from the tree when that suspended figure revealed itself, the Prussian managing to catch his heel on another root. It sent him falling hard onto his rump, a pained grunt sounding as Gilbert suffered momentary distraction from that image. When he looked up a second time, hoping that it had been merely a trick that his mind had decided to play upon him in his paranoia, the albino went impossibly paler.
Red eyes bulged, wide stains of crimson in an otherwise pallid face. The vision in front of him had not altered. Gilbert twisted slowly around with that disbelief and horror stamped as a fixed expression. He placed his palms on the ground in front of him, slumped upon his knees as he continued to gaze up at the hung German. "N-nein. Nein! This isn't possible! This can't ... this can't be happening!" His voice was roughened, an almost agonizing twist icing through his chest the longer that Gilbert looked up into the accusing eyes of his brother.
"You're not dead. You're not dead!" That last, reaffirming statement was shrieked up at the swaying figure; the first fracture of desperation in those denials that better resembled commands. The Prussian pushed up hurriedly to his feet. He swayed again with that feeling of disorientation that sent his head swimming. Gilbert shook it hastily and dipped to pluck his fallen pitchfork from off the ground near to where he had been unconscious. It was tucked into a secure position on his back with the loop of Gilbert's belt, and he went scrambling up to that tree. Anguished, the panicking Prussian attempted what reassurance he could towards the hanging German. "I'll cut you down, ja? And once you're free, we'll get out of here. I'm coming. Ich werde dich retten, Deutschland!"
Gilbert's fingers were trembling as he grabbed at the surface of the tree's trunk. He finally found a grip out of sheer tenacity and began to pull himself up the thick width of it towards the branch where his brother hung. The height was not something that the Prussian feared; even from this high up Gilbert knew that the least he would risk was a potential broken limb. Concerns for himself were not even a factor in his current frame of mind.
For himself, he was fearless. For Ludwig, he was terrified. So thrown off was his coordination that the Prussian nearly went sliding right back down the tree. Gilbert clung on, stubborn, not wanting to go back down there and face the accusations in pale blue (dead) eyes. He struggled up to that branch, breath shallow and whistling, and the strangest feeling of moisture on his cheeks. It was simple just to dismiss is as sweat, wipe his eyes clear quickly with the fabric on his shoulders, and continue up. The Prussian levered himself up onto that branch at last, grasping with one hand for his pitchfork to free it.
He began jabbing the prongs at the aged, thick cord of rope that was keeping that limp body suspended. Gilbert didn't hear his quiet keening wail. His eyes were locked upon that point in the bark where he was chipping away at the branch and the threads of the rope, inwardly cursing that he didn't have a proper knife to make this easier. "Just... hnn. Just another minute, okay? I'll get you down -- I swear it. Then I'll take you home."
Ich werde dich retten, Deutschland! Translation: I'll save you, Germany.
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Post by Fear on Jun 1, 2012 20:37:24 GMT -6
Good.... gooooood.
Sorrow had found its way into the ex-nations heart. The frivolous act of anger evaporated as the red-eyed nation took sight of Fear's current form. All that talk and boasting about himself, hah. Make a fool out of him? Fear already had. And soon, Fear would make a corpse out of the great and 'awesome' Prussia.
The ghastly body watched, only the eyes tracing 'Gilbert' below. Germany's face was blank and hollow, but Fear himself was internally smiling. Pain and sorrow were music to Fear's ears... well, if it had any. The sights and sounds of pure anguish, like the Prussian before it, settled the desire in its soul. Fear was compelled by horrors and pain and nothing would alleviate the pressure on it until it tortured a victim to the bitter end. Fears made Fear itself stronger, while bravery and strength weakened it. With the brooding atmosphere around the Manor, Fear had grown enough to venture out and taste the anxieties caused by its own metaphorical hand. It felt good. Very, very good.
The ex-nation was fixated on Fear's temporary body as denial began to bubble its way up out of the albino's tight throat. Denial... then anger, bargaining, depression... and finally, acceptance. Fear had to keep its concentration focused, for the joyous feelings that surged throughout its soul had to be confined. It had to continue this act until its plan was executed. Otherwise, all would go to waste and that would not please the Master.
Fear continued to bore his icy gaze into the Prussian, even if eye contact had been broken. He wanted to intimidate the Prussian if he happened to gaze upwards. Fear's piercing stare seemed to aggravate the albino's emotions, which made sense. After all, how many people were able to interact with a dead body, especially one that blamed them for its own death?
Fear was mildly entertained by the fact that Gilbert had begun to ascend the tree. Naturally, Fear expected some sort of reaction to the viewing of the hung body, but not a promise of escape. Was the guise not good enough? Did the German nation not look dead? Fear pondered this, contemplating its next move. Fear was positive that it looked perfectly convincing as the personified nation of Germany, but did it appear alive in any way? Aside from the fact that it opened its eyes and spoke with a German accent, there was nothing. It had not flexed its stiff body as all, merely allowing the wind to sway the weight back and forth gently.
Fear reminded itself that Gilbert appeared to be in denial. That had to be it. Hm... now how could Fear use this piece of information? Its eerie eyes traced Gilbert until he was out of sight, at least from the hanging body's perspective. Fear could easily turn its head to continue the stare, but it wanted to appear as dead as possible. Motions should be limited as a last resort. For now, Fear would just have to listen and feed off the waves of panic that it leeched from the terrified brother.
It was cruel what Fear had planned, as there was little more torture that he could actually do to the nation aside from physical abuse. Though, it would be less painful for this nation to put his body through every horrible torture device then to have his own brother blame him for his death. Fear smiled at his own cleverness. It had chosen the right method.
What Fear did not expect was for the Prussian, now above it, to try to hack the corded rope that coiled around its neck. Now this posed a problem. Fear did not want to be cut away. That would leave Gilbert with a sense of accomplishment, even if his younger brother was 'dead'. No no, that wouldn't do at all. Fear would have to intrude on his actions. Raising a hand slowly, Fear grabbed the pitchfork that was poking through the top of his field of vision. Fear's grip was strong and would not easily be broken, lest the Prussian was keep on breaking fingers. Fear made sure of this, as the hands that it had formed were bony and sunken, the flesh pale and unnaturally turning a shade of faded grey. Perhaps that would convince the albino that the hung body was long past death.
“Kein Bruder, es ist zu spät ...” // No brother, it's too late...
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Survivor
22.
Played by Hat.
Offline.
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Post by Prussia on Jun 4, 2012 14:27:37 GMT -6
When the image of Ludwig's hands entered his field of concentrated vision, looking ashen and lifeless, Gilbert felt the oxygen go rushing out of his lungs in one sharp expulsion. He stopped his efforts to cut the German down. His grip remained tight on that pitchfork since it was his most reliable weapon; the Prussian clung to it with tenacity even while the thing remained locked in the grip of the animated corpse that hung below. Gilbert's eyes followed the line of those gripping hands down the rest of Ludwig's body.
Distressed and grieved, the albino's normal functioning faculties started to shut down. It was unconscious habit; a lifetime of facing horrors and glimpses into the darkest behaviors of mankind upon a field of battle had left Gilbert with an internal switch. One where, despite the strength of his emotions, he still needed to function as a soldier in order to survive. The longer that Gilbert stared down at this image of his brother, the deeper that he sank into that other state. He welcomed that numb, and the clarity in his head that chased all other thoughts out to scatter the panic. Gilbert's heaving chest slowed, his breathing gone even, his heart's speed crawling down to its normal pace.
Once the lump that had choked his throat cleared, the Prussian managed to speak again. His voice was rational sounding and flat. "Ja. Right. It's too late. I was too late." His gaze fixed upon the mottled blue-white of the dead German's eyes. "Now you are ... what? A zombie? A ghost? Or is this a nightmare?"
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Post by Fear on Jun 7, 2012 10:36:44 GMT -6
... What the hell was this?
Where was the fear? Where was the raw emotion that Fear had felt before? It was... either gone or temporarily muted. This did not please Fear one bit. One second the ex-nation was near a breaking point, and the next he was calmly speaking to the animated corpse. The fuck?! The black mist that resided within the German's corpse bloomed and began churning in silent anger. People weren't supposed to tune Fear out! No! Fear was the one controlling the situation! If there were no fears pressing in the mind, then Fear lost its strength. True, at the moment it was alright, but without a constant source of panic, it would lose its effects on people and be banished from this ex-nation's mind.
Fear would not let that happen. Not easily. This Prussian was still on edge. Even if his mind was going onto autopilot, Fear would make sure to drag him back. No one got of lightly once held in Fear's grip. He needed to wrench out some sadness out of Gilbert. How would Ludwig do that? Fear immersed itself in the memories that he had collected from Prussia before he had woken. Ludwig had been through many wars, and even after those wars, he still existed. Prussia did not. If Germany was dead, then Prussia should rightfully fall alongside him. A new plan blossomed in Fear's cruel mind as it barely managed to shake its head in regards to the Prussian's questions.
“No Gil...” it said slowly, as if the words themselves were a great effort to pronounce. Fear did not swallow. It did not blink, aside from moving the pale blue eyes up to the vibrant, red ones of its brother. “I couldn't leave... without you... Bruder,” it said softly, the sighing words barely audible over the howling breeze.
“I honestly tried Bruder.... I could not... escape. I fought until the end... but there is no way out. I am here... because I could not leave you for the Manor to have...” the words were strained, but Fear made sure to glaze them with sadness and a touch of fright. Raising a hand took so much effort, but the limb slowly lifted, like it was being pulled by a puppeteer's string. Pointing gingerly to the fog beside it, the breeze acted on cue and gently peeled the covering away.
There hung a single noose, new and unscathed. It looked fresh and sturdy compared to the others, as if it had never been used before. The dead blue eyes returned to the Prussian's as Fear spoke with Germany's voice.
“Please Gilbert... join me. It is the only way... that you can escape this hell...”
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Survivor
22.
Played by Hat.
Offline.
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Post by Prussia on Jun 22, 2012 15:00:24 GMT -6
Staring up at the corpse of his brother, Gilbert felt the comfortable numb that had been enfolding him begin to ice. Despair was spreading quickly again, opening up inside the Prussian so fast that he once again felt a collapse of his lungs as the air fled in a rush that stirred the fog continuing to swirl around his head like a dire halo. On the heels of that was a sense of resignation: That perhaps Ludwig was right, and this was truly the only feasible outcome for his deliverence. He sagged back against the support of the tree's trunk. Prussia did not even register the chill emanating from it that seeped through his costume's layers.
Gilbert dropped his pitchfork from the branch without bothering to watch it go tumbling over to the ground below. The Prussian began to move, limbs sluggish as he made his way back down the trunk of the tree since Germany had confirmed that he was beyond saving. His feet thumped upon the ground, scattering fog as Gilbert was now forced to look up at Ludwig's dangling body. Red eyes traveled between the German's corpse and that other rope. He approached the noose, a pale hand lifting up to hover in front of it as Prussia's shoulders slumped. "Use this to get out of hell, huh? That makes it sound easy."
His hand dropped back to his side as the Prussian's darkened red gaze locked upon Ludwig's face again. "That's all the more reason why I can't do it. If the only way that I might escape from this place is through my death, then you're going to have to save this spot for me, West." Gilbert's eyes narrowed. That despair was turning over on itself as anger blazed inside of the Prussian to sear away that resignation in a flash. "If this place led mein kleiner bruder to his death, then I will remain here in hell until I can tear it apart brick by brick, with my own hands if I have to. To have failed you in this way is an unforgivable sin. Until I have made amends to this, I cannot have peace until I have made my penance."
He knelt down to pick his pitchfork back up off the ground. When he rose, the albino twisted to gaze in the direction where he thought he could feel the pull of the manor somewhere there in the thick fog, a slightly feral light in his eyes. "I will wreak havoc through this place. If demons attack, I'll destroy them. If nations seek to stop me, I'll cut them down just like I did in the past. And once I have done enough... Once I have gained the attention of whatever demon commands this place.." Prussia turned around to his brother again, pale face set stubbornly; the pride of a nation that had defied death longer than expected, "Then maybe... Just maybe... Just maybe, I can still save you somehow, mein kleiner Deutschland. You will wait for me just a little longer, ja?"
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Post by Fear on Jun 23, 2012 12:55:22 GMT -6
This was it. Fear had done it. Icy blue eyes traced the mechanical movements that Gilbert made. It was as if he were a puppet and Fear was the puppeteer. Off you go, little Prussian. Off to your death... The feelings of negativity bloomed within the man once more as Fear almost sighed in relief. It thought, only for a moment, that its grip had actually weakened and that the Prussian would break free of its charm.
Gilbert's body travelled from the branch to the ground, before slowly coming up to the open noose. Fear glimmered in content as the ex-nations fingers grazed the braided cord... wait. No, his hand stopped there. Fear froze, desperately willing Gilbert to continue and hang himself. Fear was close... so close. It just needed to give Gil a little push. The nation was at the breaking point. It was now or never. Fear opened its mouth to speak, but Gilbert beat it to the motion.
The hand dropped as Fear boiled with anger. Damn it! The red eyes met its own fake ones as the ex-nation began to speak again. Shit. Fear had failed in cracking Prussia's resolve. No... DAMN! Fear hissed silently, not yet weakened by the effects of being conquered. Had it not been beat yet? Instead of giving up the act at the moment, Fear just watched silently, still in the form of the Prussian's younger sibling.
Anger seemed to soon radiate from the albino as Fear felt the strength from the horror and initial fear transform. What was the Prussian so upset about? Fear hung motionless, the gentle breeze picking up to sway the body ever so slightly in the wind. Oh? So the immense rage was directed towards the Master? That wasn't new, nor was it that entertaining. Almost every nation cornered in the Manor's clutches hated the building and spirit that embodied it. However, Fear still waited. Perhaps... just perhaps, there was still an entertaining factor here. The Master wanted death and destruction, but perhaps Fear could comply by being an indirect link?
Fear watched as Gilbert reclaimed his fallen weapon, turning back to the Manor. His tone was dangerous and raw, suggesting that Fear had affected him. More than affected, it looked like Fear had broken him. Fear's grin could not be held back as a wide, deranged smile appeared on 'Ludwig's' lips. Perhaps Fear had not succeeded in killing this one, but others would now be targets. Had Fear just created a new monster to roam the Manor's endless hallways? Glee fluttered in Fear's spirit as it forced the crazed expression from its face. Good thing too, as Gilbert turned to meet its deadened gaze.
There was method to Fear's madness, as the embodied emotion had transferred some of its insanity to its victim. Those red eyes... psychotic. Excellent. The Master might just be pleased with Fear's work, despite the failed primary objective of killing the nation. Fear smiled softly, this one normal and just a tad sad as its blue eyes gazed longingly at the albino. Fear held the Prussian's gaze for a moment, allowing the silence to still the air between them before speaking. The words were almost sighed out, like the body was using its last breath as 'Germany' closed its eyes.
“Yes bruder... I will be... waiting...”
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