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Post by Deleted on Aug 3, 2012 14:49:03 GMT -6
"Nederland?! Grote broer?!" Belgium's voice rang out loud and clear as she poked her head into another dark room in the mansion.
For what felt like the last few hours, Emma had been searching for her older brother, Netherlands, hoping they would bump into each other and then get out together. Unfortunately, she'd had no such luck in finding either of her siblings yet. Hopefully Luxembourg hadn't come to the party, but she had a feeling that Netherlands was here. Belgium was sure of it.
Letting out a huff of frustration when she realised that, again, there was no sign of the tall, spiky-haired nation in that room, the Belgian made her way across the corridor to a room where the door was wide open. Raising an eyebrow and holding her weapon tightly, the red cloaked nation stepped into the room.
As she took in her surroundings, she realised that this was the living room. Chairs and sofas were positioned around the room, but coated in white sheets. There wasn't anything else to see, sadly. No food supplies or anything useful, at least.
"Nederland?" she called again. Of course, he wasn't there. The woman sighed and visibly deflated, before flopping into one of the covered chairs. The fabric crinkled underneath her as she sunk into the seat.
Belgium was getting really fed up. All she could think was, "maybe I should take a break from searching and try to work out what exactly is going on." Yes, that seemed sensible enough.
The blonde rested her head on the back of the comfortable seat and let out a long huff, crossing one leg over the other and reclining slightly. Her olive eyes focused on the ceiling in deep concentration as she went over all she knew about the manor in her head.
This place was infuriating. First, she kept loosing everyone she met. Then, time went all bizarre and got jumbled up or something… who knew what was up with that?
"I wish I knew where big brother was," she grumbled loudly as she crossed her arms over her chest and sulked a little to herself.
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Post by genesis on Aug 8, 2012 8:53:18 GMT -6
There were elephants residing in her head.
That was the sole thought that came through to her amongst a filter of blurred senses when Belarus had been stirred back to consciousness. The pain was a low, steady throb at her right temple and the dense, sticky trail down to her cheek led her to the conclusion that blood had been drawn.
She laid, unmoving, against the cold marble tiles, allowing sensibility to thaw out her numb mind and begin the structure of comprehensible thoughts. Where was she? What happened? How long had she been out?
Slowly, like water escaping from a faulty tap, memories started to leak back into her and weaved her a simple tale. Ah, yes. She remembered it now, all of it.
It was all America’s fault.
If he had not – on pure impulse and whim and zero consideration – concocted a downright puerile and mindless plan to hoist a party in a mansion that was infamous with its own dark past, none of them, none of the nations, would be trapped in here now. With no way out.
Belarus suppressed something that was caught between a scream and a sob – she did not know what it was, but it felt suffocating. She twitched, and her muscles flexed accordingly, assuring her of proper functioning. She couldn’t remember what had knocked her out; all she recalled was the discorded harmonies of bellows and shrieks, and when she had turned around, something fast – too fast to be human – knocked her away and out. Whatever it was, it left her alive. Either it had no intentions to kill her, or it simply liked playing with its food first.
The European nation climbed to her feet, the single act awaking her sore limbs in a scream, but at least they could still move. First things first; she had to find her siblings.
Ukraine was notorious cry baby; the slightest could startle and scare her. Who else would protect her if not her siblings? And Russia… Belarus honestly feared more for what he would do to the mansion, than what the mansion would do to him…
Those thoughts alone were enough to motivate her forward, to place one foot in front of the other despite the pain. "Brat? Sistra?" She called. No response.
Suddenly, the sound of shuffling caught Belarus’ attention. Her knife was up and glinting, an instinctive reaction in situations of threat and danger. It came from some distance off, a room with the door ajar. She creeped closer, her flight or fight instincts keening loudly in her head. Nudging the door further open, she entered, and visibly relaxed when she recognised a somewhat familiar figure as the source of the noise. Petite with blonde hair, and sister to the country of Netherlands, Belgium was reclined in a chair, none the wiser about the new presence in the room.
Belarus paused. Now what? Courtesy and diplomatic relations dictate that she was to greet the other nation in an offering of peace, but she was stuck on how to do that. Belarus was not a people person. She did not usually greet people. If they had some business with her, they would come to her. If it was her sister, she would greet anyone in a suffocating hug and with no regard for personal space. If it was her brother, he would have them – preferably – on their knees. For Belarus, she was neither, so she did the only thing she could think of to announce her presence.
She cleared her throat pointedly.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 20, 2012 13:54:52 GMT -6
The frustration was only building in the Belgian woman as she sat there, staring as the shadows danced menacingly above her head. Save her own breathing, the room was completely still and silent. Everywhere had an eerie feel to it, and this room was no exception. A part of her wanted to get up out of that chair and bolt out to find another nation. But another part was telling her to stay. For, what if she accidentally ran into something out there? That would make everything worse. Suddenly, her senses became alert and her ears pricked up.
It felt cold. Her breath trembled, mirroring the goosebumps that was spreading across her skin, causing the hairs to stand up on end. An icy finger of dread prickled the back of her neck, sending a menacing shiver down her spine. There was someone... or something else in the room. She could feel it, just from the faint creak of a door slowly opening. Then, the soft tap of footsteps drawing closer. The blonde swallowed thickly, keeping her eyes glued on the ceiling above her. Belgium knew that she had to be careful; she couldn’t make too much noise of movement. She couldn’t draw attention to herself.
For a brief moment, she remained frozen in the seat, every muscle in her body tense. She could just feel her heart rate increasing, violently pounding in her chest. And previous frustrations had now been replaced with the instincts of fight or flight. Fight was beginning to look like the best option right about now. Letting out another soft, shaky breath, very slowly the blonde reached down beside her. Her fingers tentatively wrapped around the smooth, cold wood of her pistol crossbow. With a firm grip on the weapon, the woman slowly drew it up in a fluid, subtle movement. Olive orbs narrowed in the semi-darkness as the medieval weapon was held out in front of her. The next thing Belgium registered was another noise; what sounded like a cough. It didn’t take a moment for the European to react, and instinctively she jumped out of her seat, the weapon held up and ready to shoot. Eyes narrowed dangerously, frown plastered across her face, the Belgian would have been almost unrecognisable to others in that moment.
Her finger was about to press down on the trigger when she froze. As though it took a moment for her to register who was before her, Belgium’s eyes trailed up and down the figure, her frown dropping into a look of shock. “Be-Belarus?!” she choked out the name in a raspy gasp as though the words were foreign, her voice clearly laced with obvious surprise. Eyes widened at the realisation of her mistake, and instantly she lowered the crossbow to her side. It was evident how stunned she was to see the other female nation. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t realise it was you! I thought that maybe...” the blonde trailed off, gaze lowering as she bit her lip. She felt stupid for even thinking it, honestly. “Do you feel it too?” Emma suddenly blurted out, unable to stop the words escaping her. It really felt childish to ask, but she needed to know. “Do you feel that... that presence? Like there’s always something watching you, or getting ready to creep up behind you to attack? Like there’s something... supernatural here.” Belgium sighed heavily, bringing her gaze away from the floor and back to the other woman. “It’s stupid, right? I mean, there’s no such thing as ghosts and that sort of stuff.” Belgium was rambling, and she knew it. But she couldn't help it. The feeling of dread was only causing a tighter knot in her stomach the longer she paced these halls and waited in the shadows. It finally felt better to be in the company of another nation, even if it was one she hardly knew. Her attention then when back to the Belorussian.
“Are you... all right, Belarus?”
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