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Post by iceland on Aug 20, 2012 14:14:53 GMT -6
The place gave him the slight chills.
He had been walking around and about but to stumble upon this place unnerved him. There was something eerie about the simplicity of the setting he had been unfortunate enough to find himself in. There was a weeping willow, a large and elderly tree, infested by a large mane of drooping leaves. The tendrils swayed with the wind in strange unison, ever so slightly, manifesting the ominous air that surrounded the vista.
Ah, but the well. It was made out of stone, the handle crafted from wood. The bucket was no where to be seen but was presumably strung by that worn-down rope. Emil was too far to really inspect it closely, but from such distance, he could already tell it was an exceptionally old well. Just what memories could it hold? Perhaps one had once approached the well, thirsty, meek, and hopeful. Perhaps one had done the same, but angry, spiteful, and cruel. Or maybe one had been too melancholy to have the will to live and rectified his or her burdens by throwing himself or herself down the well to drown in the abyss.
But who could judge so harshly? It was merely a tree and a well. Emil however had been jaded by the Manor's cruelty. He knew of the callous tricks, or at least he thought he did. Everything that resided in the manor, subject or object, had dark history. He had every justification to be very weary of that well.
Yet he approached it anyway. Perhaps one of his biggest vices was always falling victim to his own curiosity. He stood there, his hands softly on the cold and stone rim of the well. There was a strong presence of loneliness. The wind came and a long sigh reverberated from the concave of the well. How odd; he felt at peace.
He wondered if he could make a wish like how those legends and stories had promised. Emil was desperate for any signs of hope. A wish. Just one.
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Post by monaco on Aug 21, 2012 10:06:16 GMT -6
A bit bored, she had left the festivities of her own free will. The manor piqued her curiosity, and she wanted to learn more about its history. She had wandered about, exploring the dark hallways and trying to memorize the layout of the entire's building first floor.
However, something had seemed peculiar as she walked around in her lonesome. Normally, she wouldn't have this unsettled as she moved along, her only company being her own thoughts and queries. But there was something... different. Something wasn't right. The way the floor creaked and how her footsteps echoed throughout the dim halls put her on edge. It was quite a strange feeling; Ciel wasn’t one to be frightened of a few shadows here and there.
She decided to make her way back to where the party was being held. But when she reached her destination, the room seemed abandoned and there was no one to be seen. It was like nobody had ever been there in the first place. At first she had thought maybe the others were playing a game of some sort, but she then figured she would have run into someone if that were the case.
She most certainly did not want to remain alone in this strange manor. She set off to the door, and attempted to open it. To her surprise – as she was partly not expecting it to work – the door miraculously creaked open and she flinched at the noise. Cautiously she had stepped outside, her anxiety steadily increasing.
And so, Ciel found herself glancing over her shoulder at every movement and every sound, becoming more and more paranoid by the second. The cool, dry wind seemed to whisper in her ear, and she shivered; but not from the temperature. Gingerly she kept moving, beginning to fall victim to the rapidly growing seed of fear that had been planted within her mind.
She longed to find someone. Anyone. Just to know she wasn’t alone.
Her pace quickened and she soon realized she was by a large tree swaying in the breeze. She recognized it to be a weeping willow, and its dying leaves clung to the thin, sickly branches as if it were its last hope of survival. She scanned the area, and to her relief, spotted a short figure with silver hair and pale skin standing in front of what looked like an old well. She took a hesitant step closer, and squinted just to make sure she knew she wasn’t making a grave mistake.
“Iceland, is that you?”
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Post by iceland on Sept 7, 2012 18:05:28 GMT -6
It was a woman's voice. The peace became marred with a lurking sensation of danger.
He tensed up and then stiffly looked back to see who addressed him, just hoping he'll actually be able to see the speaker this time. When Iceland looked at the figure in front of him, he looked awfully puzzled. His face subtly scrunched with consternation, squinting at her as if that would help him recognize her before frowning ever so slightly at his inability to recall anything.
"You... know me? Who are you?"
Not so decorous, he seemed--he answered a question with a question.
Following his question, a gentle, howling breeze waltzed past them. As the stray strands of the girl's blonde hair danced over the frame of her glasses, Emil blushed slightly as he finally realized that she was a real girl--at least he thought so. His shoulders relaxed as he looked back at the well for a moment to calm himself. It was like a disease--as if he was gynophobia or something. Whenever he was around the presence of a female, his nerves would become all jittery no matter what the situation.
Staid this time, Emil gave the girl a side glance, waiting for her answer. If anything, perhaps she could help him find the lost bits of his memories.
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Post by monaco on Sept 9, 2012 18:07:36 GMT -6
She watched as the presumed figure of Iceland turned around, confirming her suspicions. There was no other person it could be, but she was not expecting the words that came out of his mouth.
“You... know me? Who are you?"
Her eyes widened, not quite sure of what to make of this. The dry breeze revived itself, sending a few stray stands of hair in front of her glasses. Ciel brushed them away and tried to figure out exactly what was going on. This person in front of was most definitely Iceland, and yet… he didn’t seem quite right. Judging from his reaction, he didn’t remember her. Which was almost impossible to believe.
She finally gathered her thoughts and managed a reply. “Yes. I do know you; we have met on several occasions. My name is Ciel Blanc, and I am the anthropomorphic personification of the Principality of Monaco. I presume you have no recollection of me?” Well, as if that wasn’t obvious enough. But Ciel wanted to hear a confirmation with her own ears. Besides, he had said “You know me?”, signaling that he at least appeared to remember who he was. After her whole lifetime as living as a nation, Ciel had never heard of a country losing their memories of the past. She expectantly looked at him, waiting for an answer.
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Post by iceland on Dec 8, 2012 20:03:15 GMT -6
A gentle scrunch in the nose, a soft quirk in the brow, and a very subtle frown. Emil made a face, one that showed the slightest hint of confusion and apathy. There was a moment when he had to process all of the words that she said. Her words were so florid that he did not really know how to reply. He figured that it would've been proper if he responded with the same caliber of eloquence; however he realized that would take too much effort.
"I don't remember who you are actually," Emil affirmed, sounding only the slightest apologetic to be polite, "If what you say is true... then I knew you before I had lost my memory."
Whether she was truthful or not, he decided to not provide anymore information than that. There was no definite evidence that she was truly what she claimed to be. Being in the manor's clutches for so long had jaded his judgment--trust was a hard benefit to give to another.
When the wind blew, it rattled the very bones that structured his body. The susurrus of the wind gave an otherworldly chill, a haunting vibe that could breath fear to keen ears. Emil knew what 'cold' was, but this was the kind of coldness that could freeze even the warmest of hearts. Without a doubt, the grounds were ridden with poltergeists of some sort--he could feel the dark, intangible energy that flickered with the shadows. Whatever it was, these spirits was either pleased or felt threatened by their presence.
"Why are you here?" He asked in the quiet demand. "This place isn't safe, you know."
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Post by monaco on Jan 21, 2013 14:57:20 GMT -6
Ciel continued to study Iceland’s expressions, observing even the smallest intimations of any change. He radiated a blank aura of indifference, perhaps even a slight touch of puzzlement, and an unusual display of polite mannerisms. It was obvious enough that the other Nation rose to the same level of comprehension and articulation as she, in what appeared to be out of simple politeness and as consolation for his current status of amnesia.
She merely nodded at his words, refraining from speaking. She was unable to find her voice, too surprised that a Nation could possibly have lost his memory. It was implausible, and unreal.
But at the same time, it was very real.
She could feel the lifeless wind, brushing past her face and starting to become a mildly irritating nuisance causing a few clinging leaves to lose their grip on the willow tree behind Iceland. She involuntarily shivered as she felt the breeze escorting away all of her warmth, and watched the leaves fly away into the bleak sky for a moment, and nearly wished that she was able to do the same.
"Why are you here? This place isn't safe, you know."[/i] Ciel focused her attention back to the silver-haired Nation, and she smiled dryly at the tone in his voice.
”I came to satisfy my boredom,” she said, testing her patience. She was only the slightest bit irritated at the demand to know exactly what her intentions and reasons for being there were, but she could not afford to be rude in such a situation, particularly to a Nation with no memory. ”as well as my curiosity. My interest was piqued and I wished to learn about the Manor’s history and the extent of the building itself.” She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowed as she kept a steady gaze. ” I could ask you the same question. Surely you would wish to find other people to assist in recovering your memories? I would expect them to still be enjoying themselves at America’s party, back in the Manor.” She offhandedly glanced at the large building as she spoke, inspecting the exterior . It offered an uneasy feeling, but looked to be in relatively well-kept condition.
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