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Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2014 14:10:05 GMT -6
This was supposed to be fun. A costume party in America: an excuse to dress up, get off the islands, meet other nations she might otherwise never even see…how could Seychelles say no to that? The house was supposedly haunted too, so that only increased the excitement. She wasn't afraid of the supernatural; it had never done anything to harm her, so why worry? If anything, it enticed her, made her want to attend all the more to see what all the hullabaloo was about. The Manor certainly did not disappoint, being just as dark and dilapidated as would be expected of a stereotypical haunted mansion. The indoors was old-fashioned and antiquated, but in a classy way that made Seychelles want to don the gold, gem-encrusted jewelry that was no doubt hiding in the manor, cover herself in the embroidered drapes, and pretend to be a prim, stuffy lady that would inhabit such a house.
Then the lights turned off. Admittedly, that was a little strange, especially since when they flickered back on, Seychelles could no longer recognize where she was. Furthermore, she was absolutely alone. The din of the party, mingled mumbling of the guests was hushed into dread silence. The only sounds to grace her ears and assure her she had not gone deaf were the wind howling against the outer walls, the creaking of the house settling, and her own breathing. She was a little confused, but still not panicking. Weird things always happened at America's parties, after all. The most she could do was explore a little and try to reunite with the others.
There was a long hallway with many rooms, although most doors were either locked or wouldn't open, as though blocked from the other side. Those that did open were devoid of life, and seemed to have been unoccupied for several years. Not a soul was to be found. Could they all be hiding? she thought to herself. Big mansions like this are perfect for hide-and-seek… She made the silent resolution to take upon herself the role of seeker, determined to search every nook and cranny until she found the others.
After wandering around a little, Seychelles discovered that she had somehow been teleported from the first floor to one of the upper ones, having found a staircase leading downwards. She began her descent– after all, the last place she saw everyone was downstairs. It only made sense to check there first. As she made her way down, she noticed the rug squishing beneath her feet. …It's wet? she noted, furrowing her brow and pressing her feet deeper in to squeeze out the water from within the fibers and watch it pool around her shoes. She looked up. Was there a flood? The whole floor seemed to be a sopping wet mess. Furniture and debris was strewn everywhere from when the water must have carried it off, and the walls were water-stained and dripping. Taking care to avoid broken glass and splintered wood, Seychelles hopped along trail of puddles, enjoying the sound of the little splats and splashes despite the hazard the wrecked floor posed. She knocked the flat of her blade along fallen pedestals and the crumbling walls– a warning for whoever was just around the corner, waiting to be found. She came to a halt when the water led her to a large and promising double door.
With a grin, she pushed it open, pleased that it was neither locked nor blocked. Within, she found what must have been an extensive library, just as soaked and damaged as the rest of the floor. Book cases were strewn about, some toppled over, and some leaning against the walls or other bookcases in precarious angles. Soggy books and papers were everywhere, ink blurred, pages torn, and overall destroyed beyond repair. Closing the door behind her, Seychelles began to silently weave her way through the shelves, checking corners for anyone that might be huddled just out of sight.
Suddenly, around a corner, a red head appeared above the destruction. The man's back was turned to her, so he more likely than not had no idea she was there. Still, the appearance of another humanoid in the heretofore empty building was so abrupt that it shocked her into stumbling backwards, sucking in a sharp gasp as she scrambled to hide behind a bookcase. Crouching low, she spied on him through the gaps in the bookshelves, a sly grin spreading across her face at her success. I found you…
Skittering around to a desk that seemed more-or-less stable (perhaps tripping on more than a few books in her excitement), Seychelles jumped atop it with a loud BOOM from the impact. Staring down at the man, she pointed her blade at him and announced for all the world to hear:
"ONE, TWO, THREE ON YOU!"
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Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2014 18:27:01 GMT -6
If there was one thing Liam hated, it was not knowing anything and being helpless in a situation. This whole manor was a big question mark. Liam had no hope of ever figuring it out, but he could try to find out something. Even the tiniest thing would be comforting to Liam. If he remembered correctly the library was on the second floor.
He very cautiously made his way there. He refused to be killed in a hallway of all things. Now that he said that it was probably going to happen. Hopefully his Irish luck would hold out, if not he was in for a world of trouble.
Squelch! Liam cringed as his boots squelched against the wet floor. There was a lot of residue water on the ground. He hoped the library wasn't too wet. Books and water don't mix at all. Liam couldn't help but think of all the books he lost to the sea. The poor books didn't stand a chance. Finally he found the door he remembered that opened to the library.
The library was a disaster. Liam didn't what he was going to find here, but maybe the books that were higher up didn't get as damaged? As he slowly made his way through the debris he was sure he felt a presence. No that couldn't be. Even with only one eye, his eyesight was pretty good so it would be hard to hide from him. Now to get back to these books. He was not a bookworm at all.
“ONE, TWO, THREE ON YOU!!!!”
“Gah! What th'ell?” He turned to face a petite young woman in pirate garb pointing a sword at him. Liam could feel the annoyance beating at him. Who did this girl think she was and more importantly didn't she realize where she was? Plus she was pointing a sword at him. He growled as he kicked the sword away.
“Why in th'world are ye yelling? This is a library!”He scolded. Hopefully her yelling didn't attract unwanted attention. This girl, could she be a sign that his luck has run out?
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Post by Deleted on Jan 16, 2014 0:58:02 GMT -6
The first thing Seychelles noticed upon seeing the man face to face was that he was very tall. Much taller than her, for certain. The second thing she noticed was that he was very angry at her, and his steely gaze combined with his height made her shrink back just a little. His foot crashed against her blade, and the unexpected sting that came with the collision made her drop it in surprise, the steel clattering on the ground a little ways off. She briefly glanced at it, and would have gone to retrieve it if his voice hadn't called her attention.
"Why in th'world are ye yelling? This is a library!"
Seychelles couldn't do much more than blink in her surprise, leaning back ever slightly as though his words were tangible and striking her in full force. She thought they were playing! She never expected to be scolded in such a harsh manner. Averting her gaze and pouting her lips ever slightly, she muttered a begrudging apology as she crossed her idle arms. Still not ready to look him in the eye, she used this opportunity to take in her surroundings. So she was right after all. This was a library– or used to be, anyway. Back before the floor flooded…or whatever happened…it must have been fairly impressive. At the present, however, it was a poor excuse, and Seychelles pitied anyone who had ever found this room a sanctuary for study and research.
"It isn't really much of a library anymore," she said simply, voicing her thoughts out loud with an unsympathetic shrug. While she might pity the more studious, she herself was never an avid reader, and thus wasn't terribly bothered by this loss. Hopping off the desk, she half-walked, half-swayed in an absent-minded dance to pick up her weapon from the floor, humming cheerfully to herself. Wiping some of the water off with her sleeve, she once again emphatically pointed the knife at the ginger (this time taking care to put enough distance between them that he couldn't disarm her again). "You wouldn't happen to know where the others are hiding, would you…?" She began with an authoritative voice, but it all but faded away as she got a better look at the man.
He…is…ADORABLE! She found herself putting her knife away just so she could cup her hands over her cheeks and properly gush. A pair of white bunny ears sprang from his red hair, flopping over in what she thought the cutest way imaginable. The torn jeans and eyepatch detract from the cuteness factor a little bit, but still…bunny ears! Without waiting for an answer to her previous question, she approached ever nearer to lightly touch the furry white softness, having to stand on her tip-toes to comfortably do so. "So cute!" she squealed, completely forgetting his earlier rebuke for being noisy in a library. She didn't grab, not wanting to pull them off completely, but she couldn't help but run her fingers across the downy fur once or thrice. It was even softer than she had imagined!
Preoccupied with the bunny ears, it took Seychelles a moment longer than normal to realize that she had found the first of many nations to come, and didn't even know his name. In fact, she couldn't recognize him at all. Was he even a nation, or was he some other person who had come to visit the manor? His outfit, while a little bit punkish, was somewhat reminiscent of what someone who inhabited such a house might wear. Backing away some to more fully view her find, she furrowed her brow in an effort to recall whether or not she had seen him before. No memories were sparked, but could it be possible she had come by him before and simply forgot their encounter? She could be a bit absentminded at times. Perplexed, her gaze shifted to meet his…eye. "Do I…know you?"
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Post by Deleted on Jan 17, 2014 21:22:49 GMT -6
"It isn’t really much of a library anymore.” As much as Liam didn’t want to agree, she was right. Whatever had flooded this area had basically destroyed it. He ignored her shrug as he bent down trying to find something salvageable. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the others are hiding would you?” Eying the sword/knife in her hand, Liam couldn’t help but scoff. Just looking at her, he knew she didn’t have any fighting abilities and it would be just as easy to disarm her again.Hah do you really think you can boss me around little girl? Pausing in what he was doing, his eye drifted to the girl baffled. Was she really that clueless to what was going on here?
“Please, tell me yer jokin’. Nobody’s hiding, we are being held captive by this insane manor. We are not nations any’more.” Liam tried to push back his temper. It wasn’t the girl’s fault she had no clue what was going on. His leg was still hurting from that horrible fall that he had.
Feeling an intense stare, he looked at her only to wonder what the heck was she thinking while staring at him. Why are you staring at the top of me head? With all that was going on, Liam had forgotten he came to the party dressed as the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, which included the white bunny ears. When she called him cute and invaded his personal space, he could feel the blush erupting on his face. How he cursed being a redhead sometimes.
“Why ar’ ye petting me ears?” Liam couldn’t help but feel the blush on his face worsen. Lovely situation he had gotten himself in. Why was his Irish luck failing him so often lately. It was supposed to be good luck not bad. He wondered if it could get any more awkward than this.
Well the girl had just proven that it could get much more awkward than it already was. Being petted and stroked by a stranger was awkward enough and now she just realized she how no idea who he was. “I’m Liam Campbell, also known as North Ireland, England’s older brother. Of course, the eejit hates to admit he has brothers have of the time. I wonder why that is anyway.” Oh well it was Arthur’s loss and it wasn’t like Liam couldn’t complete not understand Arthur’s feelings. Half the time he was hard press to admit Michael was his brother.
Hopefully she wasn’t one of his brother’s former territories. They tended to react poorly when it came to Arthur’s brothers, blaming them for his bad attitude and poor disposition. It wasn’t their fault Arthur couln’t tell between playful brotherly taunting and mean bullying. He eyed her carefully waiting for her reaction.
As he waited for her reaction to his words, his mind wondered. Why were they just jabbering out in the open like this? Did this girl not have any sense of self preservation? Probably not judging from her completely clueless expression, hopefully this girl didn’t end up being the death of him, but for some reason he had a feeling she would be.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 3, 2014 11:11:37 GMT -6
Seychelles' eyes never left him as he sifted through the remains of immeasurable information. It was almost sad, how desperate he was to find something when there was obviously nothing to be found. Nevertheless, she pitied him enough that she would have bent down to help him had his bunny ears not distracted her. Two heads were better than one, as the saying goes, so surely four hands were better than two. It was a big library, but even if there was only one thing worth saving, surely one of them or the other would be able to recover it. Alas, that would have to wait until later, as once the man's costume captured her undivided attention, all other thoughts flew away from her easily-distracted mind.
He had said something that sounded so important, but Seychelles didn't notice. His tone was a little too gruff, a little too annoyed with her to make her want to notice. More so, it was all too easy for her to overlook his discomfort. She couldn't see that the color of his face was slowly flooding with red merely from her being so close to him. Had she been paying just a little more attention, she might have felt him flinch under her touch, heard the unease and irritation in his voice when he asked why she was petting him, caught some sign to show that she was crossing personal boundaries. As it were, she was still trying to process the fact that there was an actual person standing right in front of her. She could barely tell that his lips were forming words.
"I'm petting your ears because they're soft, silly!" she cooed affectionately in answer to his earlier question. There didn't have to be any other reason, did there? She saw them, she liked them, so she had to touch them. It wasn't that difficult to understand. Unless, of course, he was the kind of person who liked his personal space? Oops… It was slightly shameful to admit that the thought didn't occur to her until just now. For a moment, her cheeks were tinted just slightly pink as she took another step back in an attempt to conciliate the exasperated nation, making a mental note to keep her distance from then on. After all, he was the first person she found since the blackout. It wouldn't do any good to have him mad at her, especially if the others were just as hard to find, making him the only company she had for a while. Lacing her fingers together, she idly twiddled her thumbs through his introduction.
"I'm Liam Campbell, also known as North Ireland…" he was saying. She released a soft sigh of relief through her nose. He sounded at least a little less annoyed at her. "…England's older brother."
Seychelles' face perked at the familiar name. "You know Mister England?" She didn't notice how stupid that sounded until after the words left her mouth. Of course he knows Mister England– he's his brother! Brushing aside her mistake (but not without beating herself inwardly for it), she jerked a thumb at herself as she continued. "I'm Seychelles. I used to be one of his colonies." Of course, she never knew him very well, even when she was under his authority. He always seemed to be too preoccupied with other matters to pay much attention to her. Nevertheless, she still maintained a friendly relationship with him. She saw him as a sort of trying but endearing step-mother figure who was almost impossible to please. He had his moments, but while he might be a bit picky at times, he was overall good person.
But he had brothers? That's right, she reminded herself. She had heard mention of them every now and again. Ireland, Scotland, Wales…was that right? Wales is such a funny name for a country. It sounds like an undersea nation: Whales. Whales… She blinked a couple of times, staring off to the side as her mind wandered, forgetting for a moment that she was talking to someone.
"Right!" she said suddenly, snapping herself from her train of thought. Extending a hand to North Ireland, she flashed her friendliest smile. "It's nice to meet you, Mister Ireland. I've heard of Mister England's brothers, but I've never met one until now."
Now, what had he been saying earlier about the manor? She wracked her brain to remember, as it had sounded rather important. Something about being held captive in the manor?
"If nobody's hiding," she began slowly, waiting for the rest of what he said to come to mind before continuing, "why can't I find anyone? You're the first person I've seen since the lights went out." The other thing he had said was rather unsettling, and she wondered if maybe she might have misheard him in her excitement. "And what do you mean we're not nations? Of course we're nations, silly! I'd know if we weren't." Or so she assumed. After all, she still had close to five hundred years of memories. Humans didn't live that long, did they? None that she had witnessed, anyway. She kept her smile plastered on her face, even letting out a soft giggle. This had to be some kind of joke, right? It had to be. Nations don't just stop being nations. But taking into consideration his serious face through all of this, and his stern and angry tone…North Ireland didn't really seem the joking type. Seychelles' smile flickered for just a moment, a barely noticeable falter. Should she be concerned?
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