Post by Scotland on May 3, 2014 6:07:31 GMT -6
All were in the manor separated but Hamish knew throughout the floors and the many rooms of the manor were the different colonies that he watched grow under the reign of Arthur were trapped in the hell. Each one Hamish had tried to pamper during the time of the empire as his brother was forced to focus on defending land and keeping control over the many lands he has taken under his hold. Part of Hamish wished he could have raised each as his own while Arthur kept the control of the empire, none would see their parent as the one who taxed them and fought against them in war. A small part of Hamish wished that the colonies were his children to raise not be the uncle of each of the children Arthur brought home as he took control of their land.
Monsters moved along the manor killing the very nations he always tried to protect in their youth. In a way he always saw them as his own and even now felt he held responsibility for their survival within this twisted house. He knew most could care for themselves but that didn’t keep him for being concerned for the small children nonetheless. Even with his fear and overall dislike of women he found himself worrying for the female colonies that had to also be hidden around the manor if monsters had yet to make a meal of them.
Images of these children being torn apart kept coming to mind as he opened each door looking in only causing him to panic more. With each empty room another moment was wasted allowing any of the precious children to become a snack for what lurked in the shadows of the manor. The Scot couldn’t allow that. Even if he wasn’t seen as a father or mother to the colonies they were his children in his own eyes and he’d destroy whatever dared to even entertain the thought of laying a finger on them. Sooner he’d allow himself to die before something would do harm to any of those he cared for. It didn’t matter if these youths saw him as such but Hamish thought himself as their caretaker even if they had long ago left the nest.
Of all the nations he watched grow one kept him more concerned, frantically looking in every room in search of, Matthew.
During the nations youth, Hamish found himself always worried that others would bully the kind blonde. Even at times he found himself checking in on the sleeping boy just to know he wasn’t face with dreams fraught of endless terror. At time the large ginger worried that Matthew wasn’t getting enough attention and would attempt to shower the child with his own affection in hopes of making him feel that he was not viewed less than any of those around him.
Matthew had a smile that had Hamish believing he ought to be the star child that everyone fawned over in hopes of seeing his honest smile. The boys seemed to have a shy nature and yet possess a beauty that could rival Francis.
Moving up the stairs to the second floor Hamish felt his palms become damp making it harder to grip his scythe. On his hip his lantern bounced against his leg making a soft tapping sound with each step he took. Dread began to form; Hamish feared he’d find Matthew’s body torn apart looking at the door as if he had been waiting for his rescue.
Throwing up a bedroom door with his scythe raised to strike at what hid in the room waiting to be set upon the nations Hamish saw the familiar blonde locks. Dropping his scythe in a loud clatter he moved forward wrapping his arms around the nations pulling him fight to his chest as if to assure he wasn’t a dream. “Matthew,” it was a soft sob from the elder nation. Part of him didn't wish to ever release Matthew as if he would melt away if he wasn't held on to. "Ah missed ye."
Monsters moved along the manor killing the very nations he always tried to protect in their youth. In a way he always saw them as his own and even now felt he held responsibility for their survival within this twisted house. He knew most could care for themselves but that didn’t keep him for being concerned for the small children nonetheless. Even with his fear and overall dislike of women he found himself worrying for the female colonies that had to also be hidden around the manor if monsters had yet to make a meal of them.
Images of these children being torn apart kept coming to mind as he opened each door looking in only causing him to panic more. With each empty room another moment was wasted allowing any of the precious children to become a snack for what lurked in the shadows of the manor. The Scot couldn’t allow that. Even if he wasn’t seen as a father or mother to the colonies they were his children in his own eyes and he’d destroy whatever dared to even entertain the thought of laying a finger on them. Sooner he’d allow himself to die before something would do harm to any of those he cared for. It didn’t matter if these youths saw him as such but Hamish thought himself as their caretaker even if they had long ago left the nest.
Of all the nations he watched grow one kept him more concerned, frantically looking in every room in search of, Matthew.
During the nations youth, Hamish found himself always worried that others would bully the kind blonde. Even at times he found himself checking in on the sleeping boy just to know he wasn’t face with dreams fraught of endless terror. At time the large ginger worried that Matthew wasn’t getting enough attention and would attempt to shower the child with his own affection in hopes of making him feel that he was not viewed less than any of those around him.
Matthew had a smile that had Hamish believing he ought to be the star child that everyone fawned over in hopes of seeing his honest smile. The boys seemed to have a shy nature and yet possess a beauty that could rival Francis.
Moving up the stairs to the second floor Hamish felt his palms become damp making it harder to grip his scythe. On his hip his lantern bounced against his leg making a soft tapping sound with each step he took. Dread began to form; Hamish feared he’d find Matthew’s body torn apart looking at the door as if he had been waiting for his rescue.
Throwing up a bedroom door with his scythe raised to strike at what hid in the room waiting to be set upon the nations Hamish saw the familiar blonde locks. Dropping his scythe in a loud clatter he moved forward wrapping his arms around the nations pulling him fight to his chest as if to assure he wasn’t a dream. “Matthew,” it was a soft sob from the elder nation. Part of him didn't wish to ever release Matthew as if he would melt away if he wasn't held on to. "Ah missed ye."