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Post by ru on Jun 25, 2012 1:00:23 GMT -6
Managing your way out of the manor itself wasn't as great of a feat as it sounded. So you slipped out the exit and now stood on the other side of the building's massive walls, all of them enclosed around those that were still gathered inside, yet hopelessly meandering their way about in hope of finding refuge or an escape route; like pigs for slaughter. From one maze to the next. The outside premises looked even less promising, stretching out in distances that seemed endless, garnished with fog that lurked along the pathways, encased in darkness that only drew you in to seeing where they lead and what was beyond them. It was just as irrevocable a thought to even consider, though the grounds that surrounded the manor undoubtedly harbored as great a risk as the interior did, perhaps much worse. There wasn't any point in seeing the difference, either way you faced peril of losing something: your health, your sanity, your life. And, plus, it was more space to wander, see if you can find something, anything, that might make the journey worth while. Something positive about the place that you can hold onto, or merely see what you are up against.
Ivan wasn't set on where he was going, simply following wherever it was his legs were taking him. He hadn't any notions about what was to be found in Baudeau, yet there was little fear in him to stop him from advancing, no hesitation in his aimless pace. While he rather liked what attire he had dressed in for the occasion, he could only wish he was wearing his favored trench coat - the chill in the air was none too contenting, nipping relentlessly at what little skin he showed and tinting it pink - although it was not enough to make him wish he had remained inside. He wasn't one to listen to right instincts, not that any of his own could ever be considered by anyone as 'right', and there was the hopeful chance that perhaps there was something of interest out here.
It had already seemed as if an eternity had gone by, spent progressing through the countless acres of land and only making it feel as if no progress had even been made at all. Silence ensued aside from the crackling of twigs and leaves under his boots, the occasional calling of a bird or a flutter of its wings. The intimidating figure that was the manor grew further in the distance behind him, his chance of turning around making it back there slimming just as his chance of winding up lost was soaring more and more. Violet eyes took notice of the various other buildings that were making appearances in the dim light, many of which looked particularly uninviting, simply a cluster of vacant structures that did not call to his attention. It was dead out here, to say in the least, but he would stubbornly refrain from giving up and turning back the way he came; there wasn't anything in particular he was searching for, anyway, and although he was yet to realize it, it was already an unlikely possibility at this point that he would be making it back on his own.
The pale man paused upon reaching the foot of an ascent in the terrain, craning his chin to size up the hill that he had unknowingly approached. He wasn't out of stamina yet, despite the distance he had just covered, and perhaps moving on to the peak of such an increased height would allow for a better scoping view of the surroundings. He made way up alongside the aged oak that resided at the peak, its dead branches that stretched their winding fingers toward the clouded sky casting strange shadows onto whatever fell beneath them. Something was creaking from above, just a faint hint of sound that had a barely discernible difference from that of the howling wind and whistling branches. His blond head absently turned this way and that, though his vision was repeatedly filled with further discomforting sights; lonesome splotches of land, not even a creature in view, the reflection off of the lake's water that sat off in the distance. And, just a ways beside him, the heavy swaying of a row of rope nooses that had been the source of the creaking noise.
He almost instantly regretting taking this of all routes. A frown weighed down on usually upturned lips, dark eyes staring in discomfort at the loops that hung upon the largest branch, as if staring in return at those whose attentions it caught and simply waiting to be occupied. He wanted to turn away, yet another part in him curiously sought out reaching closer to the ropes and finding answer to his immediate pondering as to whether they had been recently used. A free hand lifted itself up, hesitantly dragging the surfaces of his bare fingers across of the nooses, feeling along the rough texture of the rope and tugging it down to see just how sturdy it was. There did not seem to be fresh blood upon them, though he would rather not bring himself any closer to check; his attention, anyway, was soon directed onto the swing that hung quite out of place among the rest of what dangled from the arm of the tree. It was given just a small push, observed upon its swerving from the touch, before the Russian finally pulled himself away. There were memories he'd rather have kept tucked away, though seeing the noose of a rope, not to mention several at once, that he hadn't expected to see again in a long while did not make the situation any better.
He turned his back to them and forced his focus on something else - continuing to search, yes, of course. He remained rooted to the spot atop the hill, feeling now that he was more inclined to finding someone rather than something; and mustering up what sense of hope in doing so he could, he continued to look about in each direction, staring past the fog and what low light there was for any hints of a figure. Yet he saw just as little as he heard. There had to be someone driven by curiosity as he was, foolishly and desperately seeking a way out, or simply another area to stumble upon. Perhaps calling out would bring an answer...
The iron pipe carried in his hand felt frozen against his palm, biting at the skin and chilling him even worse than the rest of him. His thumb idly stroked along the surface of the metal, keeping it at a usual protective grip while his focus remained attentively, and a tad more cautiously now, upon surroundings. On his own and especially in the cold was the last situation he wanted to wander back into again, even if it was in a different environment. It was certainly not what he came here for, and even though he hasn't made it far, he did try.
"Is there anyone arount here..?" his voice finally projected, heightened in its usual childish and accented tone.
He listened to the voice echo away in the pause that followed, the breath that became visible in the frosty air with each exhale he gave carried off by the breeze and evaporating in its path. And so he would wait, pressing his hands together to attempt regenerating some heat, and focus on all but those dangling nooses that swayed there with the most deadly of rhythms.
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Survivor
22.
Played by Hat.
Offline.
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Post by Prussia on Jun 29, 2012 20:34:18 GMT -6
Prussia had been waiting.
After his recent encounter at this location, the Prussian had not yet succeeded in returning to the Manor. He had tried; Gilbert had gone wandering around in the freezing fog in an effort to retrace his steps back to the old house. But he'd not come out to Hangman's Hill under his own power. All of the soil felt foreign enough that he couldn't navigate in this obscurity, until thoroughly defeating the Prussian's sense of orientation enough that the man gave up on locating the Manor again.
He'd come stumbling across a lone grave not too far away from the massive tree that dominated the area. The name was erased from the stone due to time and the elements, so Gilbert had been unable to determine to whom it belonged. Embedded in the twists of roots was a sword that seemed convenient enough to take for himself. A small voice inside of him stated that this was a wrong thing to do. Sacrilege, it whispered insidiously, Desecration of the dead's resting place. This is a sin most grievous. "It is," Prussia had answered with a subtle nod, "yet my need is greater than the peace of the dead. They don't rest here anyway, right?"
That inner voice went silent. It hadn't bothered Gilbert much after that.
When exhaustion had finally worn him down, the Prussian took refuge back at the tree. He folded into a spread of larger vines that blocked enough of the cold that Gilbert could tolerate it. His new prize possession was placed across his lap. Ludwig's corpse had disappeared from its noose by the time the albino had made his way back; it disappointed him, leaving Prussia feeling more alone out here in the middle of nowhere, but he reassured himself that the German's specter would return eventually.
He fell asleep waiting. That had been two days ago.
His body lurched awake when a voice shattered the black, fatal theme of the dreams that he was having. He lifted his head, red eyes blinking open to sharpen away all the traces of sleep that clung to them. Prussia wondered if he had just been hearing things again (because there were many things that he had heard while wandering around out here: animals, voices, and the growls of things he felt blessed not to see here in the fog). Then there was a sound of feet moving somewhere nearby him.
Gilbert pushed up slowly to his feet. His limbs felt numb to him, frozen from the chill and his own lack of recuperating energy. The sleep had done nothing to replenish him. If anything, he merely felt more detached from his own body. A pale hand reached to steady himself against the tree as he came moving gingerly around to investigate these new noises, sword still gripped tightly at his side.
Finding Russia out here was the last thing that the Prussian had expected. His eyes narrowed, touched with that strange fire still. It did not help that he was shivering from the cold, disheveled from his adventure outside and far from at his best. His sword did lower -- for now -- because the Russian looked so real. As real as his brother's corpse had when swinging from the nooses just above their heads. "What..." Gilbert had to clear his throat, trying not to sound as hoarse, "What the hell are you doing out here?"
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Post by ru on Jul 10, 2012 11:04:22 GMT -6
Disappointment fell when he had not yet received an answer to his call. Not even from any creature, for even that would have made for something. And futile was any made attempt, let alone the very thought, of returning to the manor. The route he had taken to get here was untraceable, the stratum of fog having swallowed up the path and blanketed over any imprints left behind by his boots. But it had not been long, he would not dub himself lost yet. There still remained the possibility of least attempting to retrace his steps, nevermind the other looming chance that he would end up taking the wrong direction, or that what he could see of his footprints always could be those of another person as well.
An exhale fell from lips discolored by the cold, dark eyes returning their attention to the horizon - even past the thick clouded atmosphere and the dark shades of the evening, it was clear that the hill itself was quite lonely. The height of the terrain provided a point of vantage and the great oak that resided here could easily be used for refuge, neither of which he had any use for. There wasn't yet anything he needed to be hiding or escaping from, something that the inhabitants that undoubtedly lurked throughout the campus intended to change; though in his smug sense of fearlessness, he still sought to continue wandering on. The domain did not end here, after all, and he was far from seeing all that rested among the tall metal arms of the gate that hugged around the estate.
The Russian made was just about to embark on his descent back down the hill, a curiosity that did indeed kill the cat.. the noises made by footsteps coming from around the tree must have slipped over his head, for it was only the sound of a raspy voice that had managed to catch his attention.
Ivan paused in his own steps, whirling around to face the source of the voice and immediately hoisting his pipe up higher out of reflex. There was a moment of hesitation in coming to realize who was there before him, a sense of relief taking over him and washing away his tension with it. The Prussian wasn't the most friendly of company, but even he knew it could have been much worse.
"Prussiya," he breathed, lowering his arm back down and watching the other man with an expression of ease. "I was just wanderink, I dit not mean to ent up here. You sount as if I shoult not be here, but it is nice.. to--"
His rambling words trailed off upon taking notice of the albino man's disposition. It was hard to remember whether the Prussian had always been that pale, his appearance looked rather tattered and there seemed to be something off about those crimson eyes of his. The sword in his hand was taken careful notice of, despite the fact it had been lowered down and posed less of an imminent threat, though the grip of the Russian's fingers around his iron pipe tightened in precaution. A blade could easily best his only weapon, after all. His head lurched to one side, his unsettling stare returning to the Prussian's profile, attentive of his reactions. "..Dit somethink happen to you?"
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Survivor
22.
Played by Hat.
Offline.
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Post by Prussia on Jul 13, 2012 15:28:38 GMT -6
While Gilbert had been the one to address the Russian first with that demanding question, it took a minute for him to register Ivan's words. His attention was turned inward, listening internally to a voice that drowned out the Russian's, and therefore kept him distracted. Must get him away. What if Ludwig comes back? Russia is not allowed to see him. Trespassers must be murd-- Gilbert's features twitched, red eyes blinking sharply as the transmission of that inner voice cut off. His gaze slid out of that haze as the albino's mouth quirked in an odd little smile. "Es tut mir leid... Ah. Was?"
He noted the wary look that Ivan was directing at him. It made the Prussian self-conscious enough that he managed to emerge further out of the fog that was causing such turbulence in his mind. Pale eyebrows drew together as his face twisted with a troubled expression. What's the matter with you, Beilschmidt?, he asked himself silently, Be a soldier and get it together.
His empty hand lifted to ruffle through his hair, shaking the limp strands that morning dew and the dampness of the fog had rendered silver. Becoming more aware of himself and his surroundings caused Gilbert to tune in on the chill that gripped him. The Prussian shivered. "I'm here. I think this place is getting to me. In my head and all." He glanced down to the sword in his hand. The weapon felt too heavy for him to use right now. Gilbert thrust the tip of it into the soil near his feet.
Using it on Russia sounded tempting. It was just large enough that it could have cut right through that big body, all the way down to bone. Gilbert looked across at Ivan as imagination overlayed that imagery for him. His mouth twitched up in another bare smile. "This isn't a good place to go wandering. You don't know what you could run into out here. What might kill you in this fog."
Gilbert brought both hands up now to pat at his clothes. The devil's costume that he'd worn for the party had seeped through with moisture. It no longer offered him any warmth or protection from the elements. He was in a sorry state; definitely in no condition for a fight no matter what kind of weapon he had on his person. His face swung away from where he'd unknowingly been staring at Ivan with a ravenous gaze, to twist up and check the nooses suspended overhead once again. But there was no image of his brother hanging there. "It might be a good idea for you to get back to the mansion. Mein bruder should be back soon. He's dead now; I think it would displease him to show such an untidy corpse. Do you need help finding your way back?"
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Post by ru on Aug 6, 2012 11:04:08 GMT -6
His mouth opened again to allot a response, though no words fell from cold parted lips. There was a long moment of silence after that question had left the Russian, and he still was straining to register just what it was that seemed so offhand about the whole situation. The raspy voice that had finally broken through the still atmosphere hadn't drawn a reply from him yet, though the tension in him was slowly beginning to ease away, remaining rooted to the spot and waiting patiently for a translation he wouldn't receive. Violet eyes broke away from those of crimson dimmed by the fog, taking notice of the other's peculiar smile.
He made an attempt to mirror it, as if the Prussian's smile had really provided complete reassurance to the situation, though all that bubbled out of him was a nervous little laugh. His shoulders lowered back down and his arms swung around behind him, either hand meeting again at the small of his back to rekindle the firm grasp on his weapon and hold it there at rest behind him. "That is what it wants to do to all off us," he mused now, intently and carefully watching each and every move the Prussian ahead of him was making. "Ant I can tell it is, you look like mess~"
Gilbert did not appear to have any grave injuries from what he could observe of him, merely tired, damp and weakened. The unnerving smile of his own was not as hard to find now, though it was weak, feigning and an attempt to present himself as differently than how he felt on the inside. There was a brew of worry churning inside him, the urge to advance closer to the albino man, and suddenly the heavy blade in the other's hand was feeling like less of an obstacle. "If there is goot place to wander, then we woult not ever know without lookink for it, da? I haff mate it this far, I am still aliffe ant so are you." He tried for a wider smile, though the corners of his mouth could only twitch in the slightest before falling again. He knew the other's words were true, though his own had tweaked at least a little sense of hopefulness in him.
"Ant plus," he started again, glancing down at the Prussian's costume as its wearer's attention was drawn to it, "shoult you not be worryink more about yourself? You are in as much risk as I am, ant you look like somethink has gotten you already--" His own gaze sprung back up again, looking from that pale face to the nooses that hung above it, checking each one over down the row -- but of course, they were as empty as they were when he had arrived. Perhaps it was something only Gilbert could see. "Chto? Your brother has been killt ant you are waitink for him? Err~"
There was another pause, a shaking of his pale blond head as he drew his attention away from the nooses, but not before quickly scoping the entire tree and hill once more as well. "I think we shoult both try to make it back, hm? Fint you a change off clothes, maybe you neet some rest.."
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Survivor
22.
Played by Hat.
Offline.
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Post by Prussia on Aug 14, 2012 17:35:42 GMT -6
Everything that Ivan said to him filtered in through Gilbert's ears through a dense fog, thicker than even that which surrounded them out there in the open. The Prussian was able to acknowledge, on some level, that all of those words made perfect sense. There was danger out here where they stood exposed to the elements and whatever hostile creatures hunted these grounds. While the bigger man seemed fit enough to handle anything that crossed the space, Gilbert had enough general sense of his own condition to know that he could not fare optimally in these circumstances.
It didn't make the thought of allying himself with Ivan in this situation any less easy to swallow. He twitched his grip on that broadsword when the Russian stepped closer. The action was automatic since Ivan somehow managed to trigger his sense of preservation. The motivations of the frozen nation were often as deceptive as the snow; one false step on seemingly trustworthy ground had brought many to fatal ends. "It's no safer inside than it is out here. This place wants us dead. But it's probably a hell of a lot warmer in there, ja."
"Deutschland is dead," Gilbert stated in answer to Ivan's comment about his sibling, "so I might as well take my chances back in there. I can't escape like this." His eyes fixed back on the Russian's face, darkened with turmoil now as that burning light ebbed beneath the sudden crashing weight of the albino's exhaustion. Rest sounded good. How many days had it been since he'd managed to find the solace of sleep? Giving in to take the time to rest felt like such a heavy risk. Once vulnerable, who knew what could happen? He squinted at Ivan to try and take a fresh assessment of the other man.
Russia was speaking words of concern. Gilbert didn't know how genuine the offer could be. Would Ivan really be selfless enough to stand guard while the albino slumbered? And what guarantee was there that he wouldn't wake up with the man's pipe smashing over his skull? It would be painful. The sharp blow, the lancing pain. Feeling the moment when the flesh split and blood flowed, hot and wet. Then the skull, yes, even that would yield in time until there was nothing but blackness. Gilbert's head twitched to try and shake off these morbid thoughts. He wasn't sure what was his and what was something else.
He tried to recall a time where Ivan was violent towards him. Couldn't. Memories were fading in and out of the Prussian's head in this place, intermingled, unfinished, fleeting. Gilbert continued to stare at Ivan's face to will his brain to provide for him a solid enough reason why his instincts would warn him against placing his trust in this man. There was nothing but the fog on his skin and inside his head.
Gilbert stepped carefully forward over the spread of tree roots to where Ivan stood. His knees found that this was the perfect moment to fail him, and the Prussian folded down into a crouch, leaning on the support of his sword as he waited for the spinning of his head to stop long enough for him to get his limbs back under control. He snorted bitterly, both hands clutching now upon that weapon where the albino slumped there next to Ivan's feet. "I don't know why, but for some reason this is really embarrassing. Just give me a minute and we can make our way back, ja? Though I don't think I remember the way -- do you?"
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Post by ru on Sept 18, 2012 15:29:55 GMT -6
Focus was still drawn ahead of where they stood, though he was attentive to Gilbert's words, offering a sole nod of his head in an otherwise silent reply. The silence was eerie even to him, coming in short intervals between their speaking and nearly making him want to hang on to each last word until it was over. His eyes lowered to again rest upon the hilt of the other's sword, seeing another tensing of the man's grip though becoming accustomed enough to assure it would be finding itself of use on something else rather than himself. Or so he assumed. "If you got that from the armory, then I woult say you are lucky enough to still haff any chances left now~"
There was another hint of a smirk, lifting his gaze to get another glimpse of Gilbert's face, just in time to take notice of that look the albino was giving him. Amidst the rugged and fatigued features the Prussian wore, it was easy to see the distrust and skepticism written out on them. "Deat," he repeated to himself, still with a rather calm tone despite the bitterness of the word. "How unfortunate for him.. it is wonder how many else the place has taken away so far. Or better, how little will be left."
And with images like that interfering with his previous train of thought, it was growing hard enough for him to keep his mind set himself - especially with those crimson eyes set so studiously on him. It would be difficult not to simply resume staring back at the older man, watchful now of what the Prussian's own motives might come out to be, whether Ivan would look away for one moment and Gilbert would suddenly disappear out of sight the next. By now it would be a disappointment to see him slip out of reach like that, what with his previous hopeless belief that there was no one else around for miles; though he still remained in place, at least, making no move to further slim the distance that was there between the two. Just in case. Smile still present while Gilbert's was not, he tried to continue assessing the situation now that Gilbert had caved in to his suggestion, wondering just what it is he would be doing if they made it back. Perhaps he would stay, perhaps watch the Prussian while he slept, or simply begin to wander through the halls again.
Ivan was growing interested in seeing what confused expression now meshed with the rest of the other man's, watching as Gilbert approached and came to a sudden collapse just beside him. Pale blond eyebrows arched at this, though he made no other quick reactions either; simply staying put, listening intently to those next words. Russia brought his hands around to hold them behind his back once more, absent-mindedly beginning to rock back and forth on his heels. "Hmm~ Embarrassink? I woult not know why either~" He tossed another glance over his shoulder, over toward the land and foliage that surrounded them. "Nyet, I cannot be certain, but if we mate it here then we can make it back."
All that lay beyond the hill now seemed more distant than it had before, hard to tell whether each miniscule detail the grounds had in store was in or out of reach. Possible trace of footsteps must have been well concealed by now, ebbing away at any chance of remembering which directions or routes he had taken to end up here. Blindly making their way back to the place was risky in itself, but perhaps worth the journey. Remaining put on this hill, whether the two dispersed or not, would be asking for at least one of them to lose what state of mind was left or end up dead.
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Survivor
22.
Played by Hat.
Offline.
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Post by Prussia on Sept 21, 2012 18:09:38 GMT -6
While Ivan stood nearby speaking, the Prussian remained sagged there against the support of his weapon. The larger man made no effort to assist him. Gilbert couldn't decide if this left him irritated or relieved. He wasn't one to rely on others for aid at times like these. Did Ivan know? How strange to think that the Russian might currently be more informed about his inner workings than the albino was. His head was in shambles enough that if Ivan had better luck making heads or tails of it then all the better.
"I wasn't searching for it. The weapon sort of found me." He answered dully, distracted by the effort to get his legs back under his control again. Allowing himself to get this weak had been a grave error. Being absorbed by the reality of his brother's death had left Gilbert reeling. And after these last two days of stumbling around in the freezing fog, with no pause for food or sleep, it had taken its toll. Gilbert felt that there should be something significant about this; like he had already faced this same situation with another person. Recent memory -- and distant memory -- were both in a state of critical failure.
Ivan's casual remarks about his brother's death irked him. It also reminded him of the promise that he'd made to his sibling before Ludwig's image had disappeared from amongst the nooses. The fact that he'd vowed to continue on, surviving long enough to see the Manor torn asunder. Gilbert was bolstered by this flash of remembrance. He had no hope of leaving this place with his brother. And Ludwig had been clear that the only way they might be reunited was through death. So it was up to the Prussian to cause as much damage as possible before that time came.
He shoved up to his feet with a low groan, feeling his joints protest as they popped. Once he got warm again, maybe forced some food down his gullet, he'd be ready to move forward. Suddenly, Ivan's arrival here seemed destined. He squinted sidelong at the Russian, face taut with the strain of remaining upright on his feet. "You'd probably be wise to split from me once we make it back there. I intend to make this place burn. So sticking around me for too long might end up being bad for your health. Once I get stable on my feet, I mean."
That would take time. Hopefully not more than a day. Just enough to get his body in a state of stability that his mind was no longer capable of. His memories, his mind -- Gilbert wasn't sure he could count on it anymore. But if his body remained strong enough, then he'd just soldier through for as long as it took. That's what he did best.
The Prussian swayed on his feet. He flagged a hand at Ivan to beckon the Russian closer. "Just lend me your arm. This'll go faster if I can lean on you for a bit. If anything gets a jump on us along the way, I might not be any good, but I'll damn well try my best." His head twisted around to squint against the fog that enveloped them. He couldn't see the way; as blind as Ivan was by these elements. Still, there was a tug at him that Gilbert was unable to explain, and he knew instinctively that it was the right way. He pointed. "If we head back downhill, that should get us in the right direction. There was a path, I think. Some gravel coated in leaves and other debris. Find that, and we'll be golden."
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Survivor
22.
Played by Hat.
Offline.
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Post by Prussia on Jan 22, 2013 14:32:30 GMT -6
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