Arthur Kirkland
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Post by England on Mar 15, 2014 16:00:52 GMT -6
How did he get himself into this situation?
That was the thought looping constantly through England's head whenever he glanced back over his shoulder to the lean, towering figure of Scotland moving along behind him. He had never expected to run into the redhead in his ventures out of his sanctuary. Abandoning Hamish to fend for himself had crossed the Englishman's mind. Guilt had prevented him from doing so. While he was highly uncomfortable being alone except for the company of the Scotsman, this was nothing he had not dealt with before.
He'd been out scouting for supplies when he came upon Hamish by accident. The Scotsman had caught him entirely by surprise, enough that Arthur nearly leapt out of his skin believing that his brother might have been one of the minions of the Manor. When he found out that it was Hamish rather than a monster bent on murdering him, the Englishman figured that his odds of survival were at least slightly improved. So far his brother had not tried to shed his blood or lash out against him violently. Knowing how things operated between them that would probably come in time. Arthur would enjoy the peace while it lasted.
Arthur tried not to let himself get too distracted with the presence of his elder brother. Especially being out in the open as they were. Any number of dangers awaited them, and the Englishman needed to be on his guard. Even Hamish presented a threat to him. It bothered him having the man at his back where he couldn't keep a constant eye on him. Hamish had a scythe in his possession that would be lethal to him if the Scotsman decided to take this opportunity to use it. The muscles along Arthur's neck and spine were sore with tension, knotted up from those imagined acts of fratricide.
Rain started a low, mournful drizzle down upon them. Arthur tilted his face upwards as the first droplet beaded from the brim of his police cap. He lifted his hand in a quick beckoning gesture to signal Hamish to follow him as the Englishman changed his course to retreat beneath the thick branches of a tree. It wasn't the least bit inviting -- the branches resembled an open claw waiting to close in upon them, and the trunk of it smelled heavily of rotting wood. Still, it was dry beneath the shelter offered by the tree and Arthur had had enough of being damp.
He backed up until feeling the tree behind him. Leaning against it let him have an open view of the mists around them. It also lessened his paranoia about being unable to keep a watch on Hamish. Even now he warily eyed the Scotsman from beneath the shadowed brim of his cap, patting down his jacket before pulling its embrace tighter around his body for the warmth it provided. The tense silence of their journey up until now was broken when Arthur spoke, voice low. "We might wait out the rain here. The storms tend to pass quickly here, after all, and so long as there's no sign of lightning we ought to be safe."
Arthur's suggestion was painfully polite. He didn't want Hamish to misinterpret it as an order from him. Their relationship was plagued with constant misinterpretations that often caused rifts between them, after all. The last thing the Englishman wanted was a row out here in the middle of nowhere. His only means of knowing what Hamish was feeling was in reading the man's aura; that usually meant that Arthur didn't sense his brother's anger until it was already burning red hot. He pressed his lips together in the budding form of a frown. "If you don't want to remain here in my company then I understand. I'm sure there are many other faces you'd rather have found than mine."
The chill of the air was getting worse. He peeked sideways at Hamish to judge how the man was faring in the elements. Arthur wasn't too bad off since he had dressed warmly thanks to the layers of his costume. His jacket was sturdy enough that the cold was tolerable. "Also .... it's gone chilly, hasn't it? Would you like my jacket? I'm plenty warm without it if it would do you any good." It was as much of a peace offering as he could think to extend for the moment, braced for whatever response Hamish might return to him.
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Hamish Kirkland
Administrator
Homosexual.
Single.
27.
Played by Dee.
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Post by Scotland on Apr 14, 2014 17:20:00 GMT -6
The thought of how Hamish ended up stalking behind his brother was much less of a mystery than it seemed to be for Arthur. Wordlessly they moved over the ground, grass that hid the endless mounds of mud only creating another layer of filth that already covered Hamish. Nothing could remain clean within the hell of the manor. Body, mind, and soul were tainted with every step through the ground making the sleep deprived mind form idea the nations would have never thought necessary back within their lands. Family, friends, lovers could any be trusted when trapped in your own personal hell?
It had become clear Arthur had either plans of fratricide or believed Hamish to be guilty of such ideas as his firm glance inspected the ginger as if he made sign of the abominable act. Barbarous act that none seemed to be past he members of their family. Somewhere, surely, a bet was in place of who would be the one to raise the blade and become the guest reaper of the manor. Two brothers already seemed to begin the dance to obliterate their kin using the manor as a guide. Taunting voices would break the will of one and cripple another. Will seemed to be all what kept weapons lowered among the family instead of raised in a promise to cut down what stood before the blade.
Not long before now the sound of shifting objects, carefully chosen steps, and a panicked aura caught his attention. Scythe reaching around the door ready to strike before he managed to catch a glimpse of the figure Hamish moved toward the room. Moments before the strike the curve blade came to a halt. Images of a small blonde boy whimpering came to mind, flowers soon surrounded the crying child and a soft song rang through the air. This aura was familiar. Shaken and panicked as it felt during the nation’s youth, the aura of Arthur back when Hamish secretly blanketed his brother in flowers and sang a lullaby hidden behind a tree. It could be a trick meant to cause him to lower his guard and yet Hamish couldn’t swing the blade. On the other side of the wall Hamish wished to find the youth whimpering and ready to be clutched to his chest until the tears dried. Arthur would need him to be the comfortable but that sight was not one Hamish was met with and yet he followed not able to get the image of the helpless child out of his head.
Now trapped in the manor the choice of costume seemed to have been a benefit to Hamish, scythe extending his reach and when used outside the manor’s halls gave him the ability to defend all sides. Resting below the blade was a lantern glowing an eerie green but illuminating the ground enough to allow the large strides to avoid holes. A slight concern for something reaching for his legs kept his eyes scanning the ground for movement. Arthur would at least escape death if Hamish were able to fend off the attack while the youth made a run for it. Even with a feeling of jealousy, Hamish knew Arthur had friends and a lover to miss him, possibly fall weak, if he were to be reaped by a lurking creature. It was more than Hamish could say for himself.
Remaining still for a moment after noticing the gesture to follow Hamish gave a sigh before changing his course to follow after his brother. Even with the cold drops against his skin Hamish didn’t allow the rain to be much of a brother anymore. Instead of joining under the tree to avoid some drops of rain Hamish removed the cape from his back and used the scythe to place is among the branches making a cover for Arthur. The makeshift cover prevented any of the rain from soaking the Englishman anymore but provided little room for the Scot to escape the downpour. Standing away from the tree as if to keep watch rain continued to soak the red head making his bright hair darken as if the rain managed to extinguish the flames. Not long after the white dress shirt rolled to his elbows clung to his skin revealing the freckled skin hidden below. Dirt coating the maroon pants soon turned to mud that caked itself over his thin legs. The lack of muscles seemed to be more noticeable as his vest soon joined clinging to his soaked flesh. An outline of ribs could almost be seen through the drenched material. Not looking back when he finally heard his brother speak up Hamish’s voice was soft enough that the rain nearly buried in, “If th' lightening begins ah will fin' ye shelter tae wait it oot.”
Pain seemed to be a constant in the relationship Arthur and Hamish had between them. Words and actions always seemed to work like a whip making the elder brother feel he wasn’t welcome in the family the Englishman seemed to have founded. Part of him seemed to believe he was nothing more than a servant meant to tend to the family the blonde has created with his empire. Both sides understood little of each other. “Thare ur few ithers care tae see mah face. Ah'ament surprised ye'r among they wha wish tae hae fun anither form o' company.” Even with words showing he knew Arthur didn’t welcome his company he didn’t flee; standing like a stone he watched for any movement that could bring his brother danger.
Clothing already clung to his skin it was almost impossible for Hamish to hide the shiver the cold had began to cause him. Lacking much fat his temperature seemed to always to drop at the slightest chilled breeze that brushed past him. “Dinna fash yirsel aboot me, ah will survive.” Another shiver caused his entire body to quiver in the cold.
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Arthur Kirkland
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Played by Hat.
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Post by England on Apr 22, 2014 0:57:42 GMT -6
Being fussed over in this manner left Arthur flustered. He wasn't used to it. A darted glance was lifted nervously to the makeshift cover above his head that was absorbing the spill of raindrops. Arthur took the opportunity to remove his hat long enough to shake water from it before it was replaced on his head. "You didn't have to do that. I don't mind the rain. You know my place enough to know that rain is more common than sunshine most of the time." Plus, as he watched Hamish getting soaked more thoroughly, it filled him with an awkward guilt. The Scotsman's decision to remain out there was unnecessary when there was room enough for them both to stand together for some shelter from the elements. That was precisely why Arthur had chosen this tree. He reached out in exasperation to take hold of Hamish's arm so he could pull the redhead beneath the branches with him. This was getting uncomfortable to witness.
"Nonsense. If any storms come along, we'll take shelter together. There's no reason for you to let yourself get soaked to the bone when we can both be out of the deluge. I know you might not like being in close quarters with me but there comes a time when it's downright madness to act so repelled by my presence." Arthur said glumly. He was already fitting an arm around Hamish's torso to keep him there beneath the shelter, breaking his rule of maintaining personal space for all parties. Water was beading on the slick leather of his jacket from Hamish being so damp and the Englishman could feel the man dripping on him now that their bodies were aligned.
He heard Hamish's comment about people not wanting to see him. It had him slightly tightening his embrace of the man into a firmer, yet more comforting hold. Arthur couldn't be sure if this is how the man felt outside of the environment or if the Manor was seeping negative influences into Hamish enough that he would assume such a gloomy attitude. How could he hope to reassure the Scotsman that it wasn't so bad if Hamish was determined to take that perspective?
"You sound like you've given up. Is that the case? You talk like you could care less what happens to you. That's not the Hamish that I know. The Hamish I know is stubborn, and won't bow to anyone. So are you going to let our surroundings get to you so easily, brother?"
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Hamish Kirkland
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Homosexual.
Single.
27.
Played by Dee.
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Post by Scotland on Apr 22, 2014 15:35:11 GMT -6
The embarrassment wasn’t noticed as Arthur busied himself shaking off the water from his hat. Compared to the Scot he seemed moderately dry and could probably brush off most the rain drops that still clung to the fabric of his costume. “'n' ye ought tae ken mines enough tae ken ah dinnae always git muckle sun either. Ah hae mah hielands whilk git some o' th' maist rain in Europe.” Soon the rain would stop and the two could continue along their path.
A damaged relationship made a visible barrier between the two siblings. Stepping on toes was always something at risk whenever the siblings managed to be in the same room or attempt to offer a helping hand. Having the small hand grab into his arm caused the scythe to be shifted from his shoulder in an attempt to fight off what had taken hold on him. Before his blade lashed toward the hand Hamish realized it was only Arthur, they were still safe for the moment. Lowering the blade once more the elder allowed himself to be led under the shelter he had improved for Arthur. It always hurt when his brother accused him of being repulsed just by his presence but now it ached more as he willingly followed behind his brother and gave shelter from the rain. “Ah'ament fur claise quarters wi' a'body if ah kin avoid it.” Looking away Hamish felt a bit awkward having the brother he aimed to protect now holding them close as if to prevent him from moving back into the rain. “Ah plan tae protect ye. Wha kin say ah will be in yer union muckle langer bit ah wull aye protect ye.” Leaning down a kiss was pressed to Arthur’s forehead.
Feeling the water drip off his body and until the petite blonde did cause Hamish to feel a little guilty as his effort to keep his brother not only safe but dry resulted in him towering above dripping onto his younger brother. Running his fingers through the mess of untamed hair he attempted to remove water preventing it from finding way to the Englishman’s coat. “Ye'r aff tae git wet if ye keep me this claise.” Another shiver moved through his thin form and the close proximity prevented him from being able to cover it.
At the tightening of the embarrass Hamish found himself feeling confused. The manor already left his out of his normal nature causing him to face other nations that he either had little to no personally relationship or had not politically done anything with outside the union. History often left him to his own land and issue among the family or invaded by an outside member for years. Nations often made unions and alliances and yet he only ever had one alliance that he never cared to revoke. It was rare, possibly unheard of, for the nations to see him attending world meetings or any of the like possibly making him a little more isolated from those that he didn’t know as colonies.
“Na, ah haven't given up.” Green eyes looked down to focus on Arthur, “Ah dae care nae whit happens tae me if ah keep mah family ur safe. Ah wid gie mah lee fur ye juist as ah wid fur Mìcheal.” Turning to look around them a sigh came from him. The manor was starting to get on his last nerve but he tried to withhold his anger to keep from lashing out. “Tis foreign 'ere 'n' ah hardly kin trust a'body 'ere.” Nothing seemed to be heading toward them yet preventing Hamish to have anything to let his built up emotion out on. “Ah hae bin keekin fur oor family tae mak' sure a' hae survived. Ye seem tae be haudin' up weel.” Setting his scythe down against the tree Hamish then pulled on Arthur’s hat to ruffle the mess of blonde that was hidden.
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Arthur Kirkland
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Played by Hat.
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Post by England on May 1, 2014 4:51:47 GMT -6
Arthur hid his face further forward when he heard Hamish speak about protecting him, the redhead's kiss to his forehead causing him to flush red. He had had the cooperation of his brothers for many years. Having their protection was different. It was Arthur that felt responsible for his family; being the representative of their United Kingdom, of their lost British Empire, he'd always believed it was his duty to be the one making the difficult decisions. Despite being the youngest among them, Arthur had been the one to rise up strongest, and chain his elder siblings to him.
They had never much forgiven him for it. There was plenty of blood spilled between them -- bad blood, shared blood, that had spoiled through conflict over time. Arthur felt it keenly now that they were all stuck together in this predicament. He wasn't sure if those poisoned feelings harboured between them would be put aside or if it would fester to new levels the longer they remained. The Englishman wanted to be optimistic. Optimism was just taking a lot of energy to maintain. "It's not your place to protect me, Hamish. That's my responsibility. I know that I am not as strong as I used to be but I should still be able to keep our family safe from harm if I push myself hard enough."
Because that is precisely what Arthur always did. When it came to his family or those he cared about, the Englishman would push himself to the brink of his own destruction to protect what he cherished. Many times he'd stood on the verge of collapse upon a battlefield to guarantee to his last breath that his family would be spared the horrors of the ancient days, when their childhoods had been an endless time of fighting, invasion, starvation and suffering. The protection of his family was worth any sacrifice. If Arthur had to deal with a little rain to spare Hamish from the cold then it seemed a minor inconvenience. Especially when the redhead was so ill-prepared to handle the elements in his costume now that the cloak was being used as a shield overhead.
When Hamish assured him that he had not surrendered to the influence of their environment, Arthur grunted quiet approval. He scowled when the Scotsman spoke of giving up his life for him. As touching as the offer was that wasn't talk that Arthur wanted to hear. "Absobloodylutely not. You're not giving up your life for me if it can be avoided. I don't want to hear you talk about dying. We will weather through this storm without anyone having to die. I won't even begin entertaining the thought of you, or any of our other brothers, being killed in this place."
He bent his head up into the hair ruffling. That affectionate gesture was one he was used to from his brothers. The tilt of his head was automatic habit to let it happen without difficulty. He could be an obedient little brother to a degree. "I'm a survivor. Whatever forces are behind this hellhole underestimates those of us who lived through the Dark Ages. We were used to living in fear back then, hiding from creatures or nations bigger than us, with the threat of death or conquest always on the forefront of our minds. None of that killed me in the past. A haunted mansion with its ghosts and monsters won't be enough to break me. I do worry about our brothers, though. And my former colonies. I hate to consider what trials they might be going through even while we're standing here chatting."
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Hamish Kirkland
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Single.
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Post by Scotland on Jun 16, 2014 16:29:30 GMT -6
When not trying to just give a small sweet act Hamish often found himself pressing his lips to those of one of his brother’s. Hamish didn’t find himself often pressing sweet kisses or even offering a feeling of comfort for the others on a normal day. A sign of his love was probably often more intimate than his brother, expect for Michael, appreciated. Even after all these years it seemed Arthur still turned red at any of this affection. It seemed that never the youngest would be used to such casual affection from one of his elder siblings that similar used to punch him in the back of the head as if it were nothing. With the ease some gave affection they did always seem to resort to violence at a rate at least double that. While Arthur was possibly the only thing that chained the family together he was also what pushed it apart making the relationship strained.
Over time Hamish tried to set aside his head for Arthur and forgive him for his deeds but always he found himself with his wounds salted and struggling to not just hate his brother. For hundreds of years his blood spilt at the hands of his brother to protect someone he believed loved him in the ends but in the end he was nothing more than a shield and a practice dummy for a failing relationship. It seemed that his blood often found its way on Arthur’s sword as through the ages he was cut apart but some pains he felt never reached Arthur’s ears as it was done by his people but not by orders he had given. Gingers weren’t the most liked people when found in England’s land and sometimes could lead to be attacked or during different periods burnt for being a witch. Some even attempted to kill him with claims that his fat was essential to create a poison. His blood had been spilt on many blades but only Arthur’s ever was enough to give him a feeling of betrayal. Each time the sword was raised to him he had memories of hitting the youth with a stick telling him he’d never be able to handle a sword only to find a blade now pressed to his throat. Though the manor tried to strengthen these ill feels Hamish never allowed it to do such. His anger along ago faded from trying to end his brother and now only was a boiling pain that he didn’t seem to be able to give up. “Stoap trying tae be th' hero. Ye'r nae oor savior 'n' wha kin say if ye'll even be staunin up fur me by th' end o' th' year. Stoap trying tae rammy everything fur a' o' us we ur stronger than ye'll ever noo.”
Hamish no more seemed to ever show Arthur if he needed help or even if he was suffering. His brother wouldn’t be allowed to do what he had done for his marriage. Arthur wasn’t going to be his shield and try to fend off the hate and pain as it wasn’t his job or purpose to do so. Hamish was familiar with the life of the ancients as he watched many fall and rise to power and he kept himself hidden on the island.
Rolling his eyes Hamish looked over at Arthur as though he couldn’t believe the brat thought this was an opinion not what would happened if they were faced with death that only one could escape. “Tis impossible tae say if we'll a' be able tae lea.” Hamish wasn’t trying to cause panic but it was true that they might find the entire family unable to leave together leaving someone behind. Being a little more rough with Arthur with his ruffling he kissed him lightly before looking out to watch the rain.
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Arthur Kirkland
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Post by England on Jul 1, 2014 7:04:55 GMT -6
Arthur frowned when Hamish scolded him for his efforts to be heroic. The Englishman twisted his face away from the Scotsman to stare broodingly off into the rain and fog. "Why? Why can't I be heroic for my family? It's been such a long time that you all have treated me as the villain in your life stories; finding any other means to prove otherwise has been exhaustive. If the only way for me to prove that I'm not the horrible person with his horrible intentions that you lot make me out to be is by making any sacrifice to save you then I'll do it."
That was the crux of it. If he could save his family here then there was hope beyond. Even if they didn't want it, even if they laughed in his face or made fun of him for it, Arthur remained determined to try. He'd spent most of his lifetime listening to how hated he was. It had been said in Gaelic, Irish, Welsh, Scottish. Enough times and in enough dialects that they all blended together in his head, always with the same message: I hate you. Hearing it as much as he had over the years -- hating England had become a common joke by now -- Arthur had no choice except to accept that as truth in his heart. Which in turn caused him to hate himself, too.
The awareness of how deep his family's hatred for him ran had caused Arthur to retreat deep into isolation. His corner of exile felt far away from everything and everyone. Here, at least, he could try to bridge the distance. "I'm not trying to be bossy. I want to protect all of you. There's nothing wrong with that. You are my brothers. The only family that I have. None of you may care what fate befalls me here but I care very much about what happens to all of you. If I can do anything to make this ordeal less traumatic then I will. We've... we've done enough to each other already, haven't we? Let me have this chance to prove that I mean it when I say that I love my hateful brothers."
He quieted down when Hamish pointed out how unlikely it was that they'd all leave the Manor unscathed. It upset Arthur to consider the possibility that any of their family might get left behind. Personally, the Englishman intended to fight tooth and nail until every soul being tormented here was freed. Settling for less would have felt like failure. That was not an option. "Let me have my optimism. Even if it's childish. I want to believe that we'll all walk out of here. That we still get our chance to make peace. A-and that one day we shall sit down together as a family, happy. I want to see the smiling faces of my brothers. I want to feel like it's okay for me to be with you all. I want to... to feel accepted by you lot one day. Maybe." Arthur fought to keep his voice steady through this stream of confessions. He hadn't meant to sound so desperate.
Bracing himself for any jeering retorts from Hamish, the Englishman accepted that chaste kiss before lowering his face away beneath the shadow of his hat's brim. Whenever he sought to be honest with his emotions or his private thoughts he always felt so embarrassed. Arthur's fingers fidgeted where he kept hold of the thin Scotsman, not wanting to lose the warmth of the older man even if he faced a harsh teasing for everything he'd just said.
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