Post by Germany on Feb 3, 2013 12:45:08 GMT -6
He knew he took a risk by shattering the normally near silent ambience of the manor with his heavy stomping, but despite how careful he'd been about moving quietly thus far, Ludwig almost wished he'd worn more solid boots. He had an old pair at home, all black leather with thick solid soles and steel plating in the toes and heels. Those would have been perfect. And yes, Ludwig realized, his current actions were entirely immature and passive aggressive. But he wasn't going to start a physical fight, and he wasn't going to completely ignore the abuse that had gotten heaped on him: angry walking fit somewhere between those two extremes.
He'd been in a dark rage for a while now, and as fairly as he could judge, it hadn't been his fault.
The German had been patrolling the upper floors of the manor, having made it a personal mission of his to find and bring together all the guests who had come to this place. He had no idea just how many other nations had shown up, but he knew who liked parties, who would be pressured into joining, and who would refuse the invitation outright. With a rough roster in his head, he'd gone off searching, no longer treating this place as safe. Instead, Ludwig had fallen back on old military tactics: move quickly and quietly, always have cover ready, be aware of your surroundings, assume nothing. And so far, he'd remained unharmed.
But then he'd come across an unlocked door. With no useful weapon to speak of, Ludwig had opened the door as quickly as possible to keep the element of surprise on his side. He'd had a split second to take in what appeared to be an empty room. And then suddenly, with the same military precision Ludwig knew so well, Vash Zwingli had leapt out from behind the door and struck him square in the left eye with the butt of a rifle.
As angry as Ludwig could be about the accident, that's just what it had been: an accident. A stinging, purple, uselessly swollen eye was a problem, certainly, but Ludwig had suffered worse. And Vash had no way of knowing he wasn't some evil creature; he'd just taken the initiative. But what had set Ludwig's mood swerving towards anger had been that Vash hadn't apologized for the act. Both men had been forced to take the 'safety in numbers' approach and had formed a team to continue searching the manor, but it was an entirely unhappy team. The manor had already put a great deal of strain on Ludwig: no place felt safe, and he couldn't escape the feeling that someone or something was pursuing him. He should have felt safer with another capable person at his side.
Unfortunately, Ludwig would have given quite a lot to swap Vash out with someone he got along with better. Most everyone else he knew would have at least apologized for accidentally blinding him in one eye.
"I'm telling you," he insisted in a low, tense voice, "I haven't been here before. The carvings on the doors are different." It took a lot of willpower not to add, If both of my eyes were working, I'd be even more certain, but Ludwig firmly refused to drop to that level of pettiness. That Vash had insisted he'd gotten them lost and that they were going in circles just rubbed salt in a wound, however, and it was taking a supreme effort for Ludwig to keep his temper under control. He felt worried, too, that his damaged eye hadn't been healing as quickly as he'd expected it to. It should be nearly back to normal by now; instead, it remained painful and shut.
Ignoring whatever complaints the Swiss man was currently raising at his side, Ludwig reached out and tested the knob of the next nearest door. To his surprise, the latch gave and the door swung slightly open. Immediately Ludwig took a step back and muttered a hasty "Shhh…. this one's working" to his companion. Not about to deviate from what he'd done before, Ludwig slammed a hand against the door, allowing it to swing open wide on its hinges. The room, richly furnished, seemed completely empty. As he glanced around from the hallway, Ludwig spied a rather unsettling painting hanging on the far wall. It was obviously supposed to be a portrait of a woman, but it looked raw, unfinished. Turning his gaze quickly away, he looked instead to Vash.
"I don't think anyone's here. Let's keep going."
He'd been in a dark rage for a while now, and as fairly as he could judge, it hadn't been his fault.
The German had been patrolling the upper floors of the manor, having made it a personal mission of his to find and bring together all the guests who had come to this place. He had no idea just how many other nations had shown up, but he knew who liked parties, who would be pressured into joining, and who would refuse the invitation outright. With a rough roster in his head, he'd gone off searching, no longer treating this place as safe. Instead, Ludwig had fallen back on old military tactics: move quickly and quietly, always have cover ready, be aware of your surroundings, assume nothing. And so far, he'd remained unharmed.
But then he'd come across an unlocked door. With no useful weapon to speak of, Ludwig had opened the door as quickly as possible to keep the element of surprise on his side. He'd had a split second to take in what appeared to be an empty room. And then suddenly, with the same military precision Ludwig knew so well, Vash Zwingli had leapt out from behind the door and struck him square in the left eye with the butt of a rifle.
As angry as Ludwig could be about the accident, that's just what it had been: an accident. A stinging, purple, uselessly swollen eye was a problem, certainly, but Ludwig had suffered worse. And Vash had no way of knowing he wasn't some evil creature; he'd just taken the initiative. But what had set Ludwig's mood swerving towards anger had been that Vash hadn't apologized for the act. Both men had been forced to take the 'safety in numbers' approach and had formed a team to continue searching the manor, but it was an entirely unhappy team. The manor had already put a great deal of strain on Ludwig: no place felt safe, and he couldn't escape the feeling that someone or something was pursuing him. He should have felt safer with another capable person at his side.
Unfortunately, Ludwig would have given quite a lot to swap Vash out with someone he got along with better. Most everyone else he knew would have at least apologized for accidentally blinding him in one eye.
"I'm telling you," he insisted in a low, tense voice, "I haven't been here before. The carvings on the doors are different." It took a lot of willpower not to add, If both of my eyes were working, I'd be even more certain, but Ludwig firmly refused to drop to that level of pettiness. That Vash had insisted he'd gotten them lost and that they were going in circles just rubbed salt in a wound, however, and it was taking a supreme effort for Ludwig to keep his temper under control. He felt worried, too, that his damaged eye hadn't been healing as quickly as he'd expected it to. It should be nearly back to normal by now; instead, it remained painful and shut.
Ignoring whatever complaints the Swiss man was currently raising at his side, Ludwig reached out and tested the knob of the next nearest door. To his surprise, the latch gave and the door swung slightly open. Immediately Ludwig took a step back and muttered a hasty "Shhh…. this one's working" to his companion. Not about to deviate from what he'd done before, Ludwig slammed a hand against the door, allowing it to swing open wide on its hinges. The room, richly furnished, seemed completely empty. As he glanced around from the hallway, Ludwig spied a rather unsettling painting hanging on the far wall. It was obviously supposed to be a portrait of a woman, but it looked raw, unfinished. Turning his gaze quickly away, he looked instead to Vash.
"I don't think anyone's here. Let's keep going."