lets out a strangled cry and drops his gun, the blasted weapon making a sick, wet 'plop'ing sound as it lands in the puddle of crimson blood
on the floor. Hands flying up to cover his face, he tried to ignore the violent trembling of his body-he had to get out of there, had to
escape...
(...what...whatisthisidon'teven-)
(What in the fudge did you do to yourself.)
(WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR HEAD)
(Ohh, I like this~ :B )
(I...I don't know. Owo I think it has something to do with the insane amount of tea and coffee running through my system right now. /shame)
(.......... I'm not sure... if I should take this... Er..)
(DO EET.)
(or he nosebleed reading too much kinky pronz)
(Pfft-yes, take it. >-D Let's see what levels of insanity we can hit with this~.../shot)
(.... F-fine, where is this happening?)
(/patpat :3 Umm...I dun know. 
Somewhere? Anywhere? England's house?)
Somewhere? Anywhere? England's house?)
Alfred
is
bored and wants to do something to pass time, and what better way than to bug England? Whistling, he knocks on the door and
waits for an answer!~
nearly jumps out of his own skin at the sound, the force of his trembling increasing considerably, to the point where it feels like the
entire room is shaking from the force of it. Dammit, who could possibly be visiting him now...? No, no, he had to get out of here.."J-
Just a moment!" He called, hurrying out of the room and shutting and bolting the door behind him. Trying to appear as calm as possible, he
cracked the front door open. "H-Hullo...?"
Alfred
has
half a mind to just bust the door open... Oh, hey, maybe he should! He's about to punch it down when it opens, and he greets the resident
with his signature smile. "Yo, England! Came to visit ya'! Let me in!"
America...? Dear mother of the lord, he couldn't have chosen a worse time to visit. "Er...hello, Alfred...I-I'm rather...busy, at the moment
...I don't suppose you could come back at a later time?" He subconciously runs a hand through his hair-there weren't any bloodstains on him,
were there?
shakes his head and begins pushing on the door. "Uh... nope, not really! I'm bored and I wanna play some video games here!"
reluctantly opens the door to allow him inside, inwardly praying that he doesn't act any suspicious questions. "A-Ah, but...you know I don't
have any video game systems..."
Alfred
is
completely dense, although we all know by now. "Yeah, which is why I brought mine!" He shows off his consoles in the backpack. "Come
on, ready for some Halo? I wanna shoot stuff, haha!~"
Dammit, he would do that just to spite him..."E-Er, alright...I suppose I don't mind..." Well, that was only half-true-he just didn't
want to be caught..."Should I go ahead and set up the guest room?"
"Neh, no need! Living room's good!" He waves him aside and pushes through, fumbling for a switch. "Geez, Artie, why's it so
dark in here? Not doing your spells again, are you?"
flicks the lightswitch on, grabbing the remote and turning the television on. "N-No, of course not...I was just...cooking..." He lies,
taking the (suprisingly heavy) box of game consoles from America.
blanches. "Ew, really? Yeah, no worries, I brought my own food!" Cue burgers in his bag. "Anyways, what're you up to today? Feel like
going crazy with the guns? 8D"
starts to hook up the 360 console to his television-he's done this so many times, sometimes with even less notice, that the huge mass of
colour-coded wires don't even confuse him anymore. "Oh, I was just...faffing about, I suppose...you?"
mulls the word "faffing" over in his mind - it sounds completely hilarious to him! Ah, well. "Well, like I said, I was bored! Decided to
come over and stuff!" Suddenly he has a fleeting need, and he throws his bag aside. "Bee ar bee, Artie, gonna use your washroom, alright?"
And he runs upstairs.
turns the telly on, watching America run off with a flustered, hurried response. He wonders, with as little detail as possible, how long it
might take him-if it takes long enough, he might be able to go back down into his basement and clean up the...er...he paused, an odd feeling
settling in his stomach. What had he been doing in the basement before Alfred had arrived...?
can hear his stomach growling as he uses the washroom, and decides that he's going for six or so burgers today! When he's done, he quickly
rushes back to the living room, but he sees a slightly interesting scene: a somewhat agape door leading to the basement. Eyes widening in
curiosity, he meekly pushes through. Time for an adventure!
stares at the clock, watching the seconds tick by. Honestly, how long does it take the idiot to relieve himself? Did his...er...goods get
caught in the zipper...? God, that is not something he wants to think about...letting out an impatient sigh, he goes upstairs,eyebrows
narrowing in confusion when he sees that the bathroom door is open. In that case, where did Alfred run off to...? He hadn't heard the front
door open,so that meant he was still in the house...
Alfred
is
absolutely excited at the prospect of adventure! Recently, it's true that it hasn't exactly been boring back at his place, but honestly,
it was all work, no play... and some more troubles that he would gladly overlook. So for now, he'll settle for this! Creeping down the
stairs, he is assaulted by a sick, rusty smell, and although he's seen quite a lot of things in his lifetime, this is something he can
never forget, as to be expected - the smell of blood. Frowning now, he gingerly touches the walls, looking for that light switch. What was
going on here?
wanders around the second floor of the house, looking in every room and calling America's name. Honestly, the bathroom is right by the
stairs-he can't have gotten lost, could he? Or...perhaps he was down in the kitchen, looking for some sort of greasy snack. Thankfully,
Arthur didn't keep anything of the sort down there...nonetheless, he knew that most people couldn't resist British sweets-Alfred was one of
them. Quietly treading down the stairs, he poked his head into the kitchen, not suprised to find it...empty? What on Earth...?
finally finds the elusive light switch, just as the odour becomes almost unbearable. He shields his eyes shyly when the onslaught of light
hits them, adjusting - and almost wishing they hadn't. What he met with was a sight that could have turned any weak person's stomach,
but luckily for him, he's had more than his fair share of blood shed. Splattered on the floor was a huge puddle of blood,
erratic splashes on the wall in this colour. A gun lay in the centre, unmoving. In the midst of all this, he could only utter:
"Wh-what the hell?"
pauses, straining his ears when he hears something that sounds very much like America's voice coming from...the basement? What could the
idiot be doing all the way down there? That's where he keeps his highly potent potions and elixirs...and, of course, the place where the
remains of Busby's Chair lie. "Alfred?" He calls again, moving towards the stairs leading to the basement.
Alfred
is
just frozen in his spot, unable to really do much but stare. Thankfully or not, there was no... body, or something of the sort, so he was
able to recover fairly quickly in order to satiate his desire to figure out just what exactly was going on here. Taking a few steps
forward, he leans down close to the puddle, and he doesn't have to touch it to know that it's blood. He hears his name being called, and he
absentmindedly answers with, "England, what in the hell is this?"
"What the hell is what?" He asks, walking down the stairs and pushing the basement door open. It creaks loudly in protest, and he reminds
himself to get it replaced-honestly, everything in this damn house is too old, and it's gotten to the point where it barely works. He
begins to fumble for the lightswitch, but then realizes that the lightbulb is just dim and needs to be changed-or he's just become as old as
the house,and therefore his eyesight is suffering. However, as he makes his way farther down the stairs, something distinctly iron hits
his nostrils...blood? No, that can't be...in his basement? He can't tell if it's an animal's or a human's, though...
Alfred
is
now standing up cautiously, his hand retracting subconsciously to the pistol on his belt, frowning as he scans the room. Could it be that
something was here? And... just completely removed the remains...? There couldn't be that much blood unless there was a source,
and if said source was nowhere to be found, then it just meant that... Never mind what that meant. He notices the other's presence, his hand
still not relaxed. "England... what happened here...? Was there something here...? There's so much blood, dude!"
cautiously makes his way into the basement, squinting his eyes and going over to stand next to America. His hand flies to cover his mouth in
shock-dear virgin mary, there's more blood on his basement floor than there is in a bloody American horror movie...where the hell did all
of this come from? It certainly hadn't been here early, when he'd been down in the basement doing...doing...what? What had he been doing
down here...? "Y-Yes, I can see that...I-I'm not sure where it came from..."
clicks his tongue, scanning the area. He's not sure what to make of this, except that now it was turning out to be some horror movie, and
not a very good one at that because of the lack of clues. He turns to the other with a frown, and approaches him curiously. "Dude...
it's your freaking Basement; how the heck can you not know where it came from? Are you telling me this just popped out of nowhere?"
cautiously takes a step forward, getting down on his knees and running a finger through the puddle of red liquid-no, it certainly isn't
fake, but...there's so much of it...a human certainly wouldn't bleed this much, but there aren't any bodies in the basement...just the
sick-smelling blood, smeared on the walls and the floors. "I don't know, dammit!! I was down here before, but it wasn't here then..." He
trails off, something catching his eye in the middle of the puddle-something small and...metallic? A gun?
follows the other's eye and nods. "Yeah, that was already here when I came down. Looks like yours." Now, what possible reason could there be
for England's gun to be there, smack dead in the middle of the evidence? The only reason would be if he had something to do with it, but
since he seemed genuinely lost, he could come to the conclusion that perhaps someone stole it away... "Artie, do you remember anything? I
mean, that's not normal dude, and I've seen plenty of abnormal."
stares at America for a moment, looking genuinely confused-indeed, that is his gun, but while he kept a decent amount of weapons in his
house (most of them for sentimental purposes,), they were almost never loaded. "Well...I was down here earlier.." He repeated, eyebrows
bunching together in concentration. Bugger, this was frustrating...his memory didn't seem to want to work properly. "And I was...working on
...something..."
"On something...? Well, that's extremely helpful." He rolls his eyes, keeping his hand on the handle of the gun as he walks
forward, now trying to examine the blood on the walls. The way it was splayed out was just weird, not... natural. "What, did you
accidentally summon some monster thing...? Wait," he says flatly. "You weren't doing any more of your weird voodoo shit down here, were you?
"Damnit America, I don't know!" He replies, sounding slightly panicked. Not that he wasn't panicked before-anyone would be if they came
into their basement to find it practically bathed in blood, and on top of that to discover that, while they had been there earlier that
day, they had no recollection of that time. "J-Just...it's probably not safe for us to be down here, right...?"
"It's fine." He feels like investigating this further, because what in the hell, having blood in your basement is the farthest thing from
sane... or normal. And no, not especially when it occurred at a close friend's house would he just let this slide by. "Neh. We're good! You
have a weapon, right? Just in case, or whatever." Then he trods on forward, trying to clear the blood on the floor a little, because when he
does, there is a strange marking underneath it... "What's this?"
"A weapon...? Not on me..." He glances at the gun still lying in the puddle of blood, thinking that while it would be nice to have a
weapon, it isn't worth the trouble to go and get it...besides, he can smell the blood all around him-he doesn't need it on his hands. He
cautiously follows America around the basement, glancing at the symbol over his shoulder. "I'm...not sure, but it looks familiar. Perhaps
I'd be able to find an explanation of it in one of my spellbooks..." The thought makes him cringe- whatever happened down here is certainly
his type of magic-could it be that this is all his doing...?
"Yeah, that'd be a little helpful." He says a little sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Arthur and his little voodoo magic was just plain
weird to him, and he wonders if perhaps this had something to do with it... Neh, couldn't be, right? Especially since his magic was all
a delusion of sorts. He blanches a little at the blood on his glove, and he wipes it across the floor. "Hurry up, dude. This smell's really
bad."
carefully makes his way past the puddle of blood, going over to one of the large shelves of books in the corner. *Let's see, now...occult,*
(That...was supposed to be in italics. Whut. /formatting failure)
(italics)
(...okay, that works...)
*curses...should be in there somewhere...plague, spirit-summoning...ah, there we are. Blood loss.* He nods absently, pulling a thick, maroon
coloured book off the shelf. "Really now? I never would've noticed...I'll clean it up, just give me a moment..."
looks curiously around, the initial fear and concern still there, but at least it had subsided, if a little. He looks over to the other with
the book on his hand, and asks, "Did ya' find anything?"
goes back over to America, pointing to the faded, Latin script on the page. "Yes, I believe so...it's a rather complicated spell, though,
and one that requires quite a bit of...ah...human sacrifice...I'm not sure how it ended up being performed in my basement, let alone on
who..."
"...." He turns to the other, looking over at the book and feeling a slight twitch in his eye at how... official it looked. "So, like...
if it's complicated, doesn't that mean only you can do it?" As much as he wouldn't believe that, of course. "So... if we think like that...
doesn't this mean you did... whatever happened here?"
blinks, slowly looking up from the book, taking a second glance around the basement before looking back at Alfred. That...would be the
most logical explanation, wouldn't it...? But then...why doesn't he have any recollection of it? And there's not really any way that they
can soldily prove it..."I-I...I don't know...in that mindset, I suppose...but I didn't..."
resists the urge to hit his head on the wall. "Oh my god, Artie..." The evidence was all pointing to him, unless someone suddenly popped out
of nowhere claiming that they knew "magic" too, but as far as he was concerned, England was the only one who supposedly had magic. "Did you
get some sort of amnesia or something?" Dun, dun, dun, this was starting to be like a murder mystery. So awesome.~
"Amnesia?" He blinks, staring dumbly at America for a moment. But...no...he would remember getting amnesia wouldn't he? Oh, bugger, that
doesn't make any sense...nonetheless, why would he have just forgotten what he did in the basement only hours before, especially when it
involved so much...blood? "I don't know...anything's possible...
Alfred
thinks
that if England doesn't know what happened, then no one else does. His eyes trail over the area, where they land back to the book in the
other's hands, and he peers over to it. "The, uh, human sacrifice thing." He still can't believe there's a spell like that. "What was it
supposed to do?"
nods shakily, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. He was beginning to regret that Chinese carry-out he'd had earlier that day, even if it
England
was
only partially to blame..."R-Right, the spell...um..." He glances back at the page in the book, the text swimming and appearing to blur
together. "I-It...It's a demon summoning spell, I believe..."
Alfred
hopes
you don't throw up, because he sure as hell isn't going to clean it up. Actually, he'd just run straight out of there if you even think
about it. "... Demon summoning spell?" He raises an eyebrow sceptically. "Seriously? Those aren't real at all, are they?" ... "And why the
heck would you be doing a demon summoning spell...?"
closes the book with a quiet sigh, shaking his head. It would be helpful if there was someone else he could ask, but...unfortunately, he
England
was
the expert in this type of thing, and if he had performed the spell, he'd probably done it alone,and with no recollection of it...damn,
this was going to be difficult. "Of course they're real...we usually can't see them because they exist in a world that mirrors our own.
The spell, I'm assuming, was meant to make them visible, but...." He gives America a 'look, eyebrows furrowed. "If you can't see them, even
now...I'm assuming the spell failed, or it wasn't completed..."
Alfred
is
totally way out of his league with those whole demon-and-spell thing, so he'll just leave it at that and not ask. Still, that doesn't escape
the fact that England has ignored his question. "Why did you summon one, then?" He doesn't care too much about details other than that,
before a frown caresses his features. "Is there someone bugging you, Artie? Because ya' know you could have called me and I could have taken
care of it. =3="
gets down on one knee, taking another good, hard look at one can be seen underneath the puddle of blood-which, oddly enough, has yet to
dry. How peculiar..."I don't know...blast it, I don't even know if I was the one trying to summon it..." Even if all of the evidence
points towards him, it just doesn't make any sense. He wouldn't have any need for the power of an evil spirit...right?
leans against a nearby wall, eyebrow quirked as he stares at the other. This really did not make any sense, but he had a bad feeling about
all this. Patting his gun in its holster, he proceeds to check around under tables for some sort of clue. "Well, try and remember harder,
Artie. For all we know, you could have started some sort of apocalypse!"
reaches down to wipe away some of the dark-red liquid, jumping to his feet when his hand is pushed away by an invisible, almost electric
type of force. "What on Earth...?" He blinks, glancing over at America. It would probably be best if he didn't get involved in all of this,
but...he would most likely insist on doing so anyway. "An apocalypse? I highly doubt that...nonetheless, we should probably assume the worst
until we're sure."
looks up at the sudden crackling sound and the other's cry, and he rushes to his side and inspects the damage. "What happened? What the
hell, Artie?" He looks down at the spot, looking around as he - ah! Finding a piece of paper, he tosses it into the exact same spot, and
watches, a little confused, as it goes right through without the electricity. "... So... what is the "worst", exactly?"
stares quzzically at the unharmed piece of paper, temporarily entertaining the notion that he has, indeed, finally lost his mind. "..
n-nothing...um...right. The worse case scenario...is that the spell, if successful, when performed by...a currently undetermined party,
created a link between our world and the mirror world I mentioned earlier-therefore, allowing demons to interact with humans. ...so, I
suppose you could call it an apocalypse..."
Alfred
thinks
that if England has just realized he's lost his mind then, indeed, the world has ended. He stares at the other's explanation with wide eyes,
unsure if to be awed by the sheer coolness and possibility, or completely pissed at the fact that the world would end - and he hadn't even
had his damn lunch yet. "Seriously, Artie! What the heck are we gonna do? If there is a demon out there, we gotta find it fast, yeah?"
"Well...that's the thing...there could be several demons out there, considering the amount of blood here...and as it's still wet, chances
are that they're using it, as well as this house...as a way to channel their power, so to speak." He sets the spellbook back on the shelf-
they're going to need alot more than a few old runes to fix this one...
"......." Well, that was extremely helpful. Make bad news even worse, was it? But, ah well! That was fine and dandy, because that just
meant that when he swooped in to save everybody's butts, it would be all that more heroic. "Well, what do we do? Where do we start? Where's
this portal-ma-jig that they're supposed to come out of...?
"Well, technically the entire world is a 'portal'...they could come out anywhere, if our two worlds were successfully linked. Because
the spell was performed here, though...this is where the worst of the demons will show up." He shivers at the thought, glancing around the
room with slight paranoia.
"O-oh, okay..." He's just going to back away from that pool of blood now and take out his trusty pistols for each hand, cocking them and
staring cautiously at the centre of the pool. "Dude, seriously, this is cool and all, but this is freaky. Fix it! I would not appreciate
a demon coming out of nowhere in the middle of my lunch!"
England
wishes
that he had a weapon of some sort, but there's not much in this world that can kill a demon...let alone ward it off. "I can't fix it-I
don't know how to fix it because I don't know how exactly it was done! If at least could contact the soul of the person who was the
sacrifice..." He shakes his head, another shiver going through his body. There's something close by, he can feel it...
"Dude, you're extremely useless, you know what?" He deadpans, glancing around the room and feeling a sudden cold breeze, which serves to
cause him to become more tense, eyes flitting about the room for a disturbance. "Then hurry up and do something, dude! Contact the soul
or whatever! And if I can help, I'll do it!" Because really, when hasn't he?
shakes his head, going over to stand by America. In reality, he knows that no part of this house, currently, is safe-nonetheless, it makes
him feel safer to be closer to another person. He briefly wonders if, as nations, they can possesed by demons-oh, that's an unpleasant
thought..."I told you, I don't know how! And we don't want to do anything too reckless..."
Alfred
feels
that that's really just maddening the unhelpful, but he'll deal for now, seeing as how there are more pressing matters on hand. "Dude..
seriously... Should we go look around the house first, then?"
"We should probably get out of the house." He replies immediantly, edging towards the stairs. Oh, there's definetly something down here
now, rising up in the middle of the room-a dark, shapeless...thing, slowly taking form...he wonders if America can see it. It's so
prominent, but...his speciality is ignoring the atmosphere...
"I dunno..." He's not all too thrilled about that idea, mostly because it seems too much like running away, and America never does such a
thing! "I mean, if there's at least one here, we gotta kill it before it escapes, right?" He notes how it's so easy to say kill... and
he's not quite sure if he should be happy with that or not. There is a sudden cold feel in the atmosphere, but he looks around and sees
nothing... at least, at that moment. "Dude, we have to stay. We can't let it escape when we could have taken care of it here."
shakes his head, grabbing the sleeve of America's jacket and tugging him towards the stairs. Alfred makes it sound so easy...hah, if only
that were so. "You can't kill something like this with a conventional weapon...which is why we have to leave now." He almost puts
emphasis on the this, but it's fairly obvious that Alfred can't see the creature slowly taking shape and edging towards them. Oh, hell,
this is not going to end well..."Look...if we stay, then it's going to kill us and escape for sure."
Alfred
is
starting to feel the atmosphere dip even lower in temperature, and he involuntarily shivers at that - he's really never liked the cold, to
be honest, and now was not exactly the time to start doing so. He tugs his sleeve back out of the other's grasp, still looking around warily
for signs of the danger. "Dude, that's stupid!" There's more of irritation than fear in him at that moment. "Then how the hell are we
supposed to kill it? We can't let something like that out into your place! Or it might even end up at my place. Artie!"
The blob-create has now produced eyes and is...oh, Mary, it's looking at him...Russia's infamous stare will never terrify him again if he
comes out of this alive. Which...it's looking as though he won't, considering how obstinante Alfred is being-and he certainly isn't going
to leave without him. "It was summoned with magic, so we have to send it back with magic...but I don't have the means to do that here.
Look, we have to leave now-unless you want to be ripped apart by a supernatural being."
Alfred
is
certainly not amused by this entire situation, and it feels as though he's going to need gloves now. But England seems to harried about
getting them out of there - even if his reasoning made absolutely no sense to him (seriously, magic?), so he just sighs and trudges out of
the basement grudgingly. "Then where are these "means", Artie? We have to get rid of it before it escapes elsewhere!"
barely represses a sigh of relief, closing and bolting the cellar door (even if it won't do much good). I'm not sure, honestly...but it'd be
best if we left the other nations out of this until it either spreads or we have control of it. Understand?" He pauses, hearing a loud
crashing sound from downstairs-the damned thing is probably demolishing his bookshelves...he doesn't want to get the rest of the world
involved because mass panic is the last thing they need.
may not have been able to see the monster, but he sure as heck was able to hear it - or at least, whatever it's doing in the now-closed
basement door, and he immediately feels the urge to turn back and just... shoot it, or something. It just feels too much like running
away... "Fine, we'll keep it between us, but I'm only giving you a few minutes to figure something out, dude, before I call in some help!
You cannot be serious in keeping it from the world, you know!" Especially if they'll start eating people and all...
hurries up into the livingroom, not too suprised to find that all of his magical friends have fled the scene. After all, fae stand almost no
chance against a creature of that power...still, it would be nice to have some company that actually understood what they were up against
. "Well...if we can, we need to take care of this as quietly as possible." The problem in doing that, though, is that they may not be able
to get all of the help they need...unless.."Ah, Alfred...doesn't your government specialize in things such as these..?"
Alfred
wonders
what the heck they can do in the living room that they couldn't in the basement; judging from the noises, whatever was summoned would have
absolutely no problem breaking that basement door. He blinks at the other when he mentions that. "... Huh? What are you talking about,
dude?" And what do you know about that organization?, he wants to add, but first, he'll see what the other knows first. And just to add,
quiet is never going to happen.
packs a few things before heading over to the door, going outside and motioning for Alfred to follow. Until they figure out a way to stop
that thing, they need to get as far away from it as possible. "Well...you know. Don't they specialize in coming up with last-minute weapons
that, some way or another, target the weaknesses of supernatural creatures?" ...alright, perhaps Arthur is the one who's been watching too
many movies now, but...nonetheless, he knows the U.S. government is capable of...quite a bit.
"Heeeh?~" He can't help but smirk a little at that, knowing full well - obviously - what his government is capable of. He's already
thinking about calling them, that he doesn't quite realize he's already following the other out of the house. "Yo, England, just how many
of my awesome movies have you been watching?~" He snickers. "But yeah, I can probably call in some favours for this! But you have to
tell me all the details, as much as you can, about the monster!~" Alright, this was probably why he went along with the demon explanation,
seeing as how he did have weapons against them. Ah, subconscious believer!
can't help but feel a tad bit...unnerved by the cocky expression on the other's face, wondering if he's said something that he shouldn't
have-chances are that he's just dug another grave for himself. He supposes that he can let that slide for now, considering the fate of the
world is sort of at stake. Later on, though, he'll be sure to pay Alfred a visit and...possibly fill his house with ghosts. Or...something
to that degree. Yes. He walks past his car (he can't even remember the last time he drove the damn thing, and his liscence expired months
ago,) and across the street to the nearest bus station, suprised to find that Alfred is actually being...cooperative for once. "Well...I
promise to tell you everything I've figured out so far, but the rest will have to come later."
Alfred
is
actually completely giddy with excitement right now, the prospect of a new adventure after having just sat around all day looking like a
brand new miracle to him. He looks around and wonders where the heck they're going, but decides that it doesn't matter as long as they're
doing something! "Okayyyy then!" He grins, taking out his phone to get ready to dial the information. "Shoot then, let me know everything
and we'll go kick some demon butt! Now hurry up dude, I think your house is..." He looks back, blanching a little at the sudden loud noise.
"... getting owned."
glances back over his shoulder, eyes widening when he sees that the blob that had begun growing in his basement is now a good twelve meters
high, with new...appendages, (because they aren't quite arms and legs, but they are waving around and tearing through his roof), and
he's,for the first time, regretful that he lives in such a...crowded place, though he wonders if anyone else can see the demon. If not,
then the rest of the world is going to have a hell of a time fighting something that they can't see, unless he can find a way to make it
visible. "Y-Yes, I can see that...I know you weren't really listening before, but we have to go now." Without bothering to give Alfred
so much as a chance to protest, he grabs the other's sleeve and tries to dug him towards the bus that's just pulled up.
follows the other's gaze back to the loud sounds that no one can possibly miss, and looks confusingly at the space that used to be his
house, damaged by some invisible creature. His eyes then turn towards a group of children that so happened to wander around England's house,
just at a time when an explosion triggers a nearby post to collapse... Roughly yanking his arm away, he runs instinctively towards the young
boy and girl, his arms reaching out to pull them aside just as the post hits the ground. Gritting his teeth, he ushers the two to go
home, before he goes back to rejoin the other, eyes wary for any more possible victims. He allows himself to be pulled into the bus,
but there, he can no longer hold back. "England, seriously, tell me now! Look, it already almost killed children, dude, and who knows
what else it's going to hurt?! I'm going along with you here, but if you don't give me the information I need now, I'm going back there
and kicking its butt whether you want me to or not." To say he's a bit agitated at this point is an understatement.
spins around when Alfred suddenly jerks away from him, about to ask him if he's finally lost his bloody mind, stopping in his tracks when
he sees the children-children,probably not even half-way through primary school yet-crying and looking absolutely helpless, and by the
terrified looks on their faces, Arthur can at least determine that, yes, they can see the creature. His heart nearly stops when Alfred
manages to dive in in time to save them, but...it makes the situation seem all the more real, and he knows that he's going to have to do
alot of quick thinking from here on out. Moving towards the back of the bus, he pulls a notebook out of his pocket and hurriedly makes a
sketch of the creature, along with a few notes and ideas. He's not entirely sure, but it looks very familiar, and he's afraid that, if
it is what he thinks it is, things are going to become very dangerous. "Y-Yes, of course...it's a long story, but the drive to the airport
England
is
rather long...we've got time. First things first, then-have I ever told you how old that house is, or why I built it in that particular
spot?"
can only stare at the other with a mix of utter disbelief and exasperation. Really, magic was one thing, but this, that something that
almost killed children? This was going just a little too far. He holds up his palms as though in a surrender, signalling the other to just
pause for a second. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dude, airport? What do you mean airport? Where the hell are we going?! You mean you're just
going to run away from your own place and leave it here with all these..." He gets agitated thinking about it. "... these people? Have you
completely lost it? No! We're not going anywhere!" As if to solidify his point, he caresses the guns at his sides, showing that he will
really go back and shoot it if that's the only way. But at the question, he calms down a little, frowning. "No, no I haven't. Older than
me then, I guess. That's all I know..."
lets out a quiet sigh, hand immediantly flying up to massage his aching forehead. Oh, of all the ignorant..."Yes, a bloody airport.
Firstly, we're going to need to get them to cancel all flights-the last we want is panic to spread. Secondly, we're going to be needing
the fighter planes in the hanger." *That is, if I can remember how to fly one...* Alfred is certainly as brave as ever, and he can
understand why the other man is panicking, but he needs to calm him down long enough to be able to talk a little sense into him. "Well,
I'll have you know that it's centuries old-but it's not the house itself that's important. You see, that house is built on top of an old
set of underground, Celtic ruins-I wanted a home there because I was told by the locals, years and years ago, that the ruins were supposed
to hold a...mystical sort of quality, and when I went down there the day before they were going to seal it up..." He pauses, flipping to a
page in his notebook, every inch of it filled with barely legible writing. "...I found a set of worn, stone tablets. I couldn't recognise
the language, but..there was a picture of that creature that we saw there. I have a feeling that...something woke it up, but I'm not
quite sure yet as to how we're going to put it back to sleep..."
frowns a little at that; yes, that would make sense, though it also works as a double-edged blade, in that by cancelling all the flights,
everyone would just be trapped here, with no way to escape, but on the other hand, no more people would come in and be victims... it was
such an ugly result to him; dammit all, he would prefer no one get hurt or even die, but from the looks of things... No! He would try
to save as many lives as he possibly could. At the mention of fighter jets, he perks up a little, excitement gleaming in his eyes. "We're
going to use fighter jets? Dude... you should have said so before!" He can't help but be excited at that prospect... "I'm going to call in
some backup from my place then, and I'll tell them to reload it with specialized missiles after you tell me everything!~" Yes, finally,
something better than just sitting there and doing nothing. The story intrigues him, and he just nods along to it... and a small part of
his mind is wondering what would have happened if he had been too curious as a child and wandered down there... ugh. "Okay then, so
some unknown thing woke it up. Celtic." He writes that down. "Then... was there anything different that happened today? Or... is that why..
you can't... remember anything...?"
can't help but notice the purely stricken look on the other's face, instinctively reaching over to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder-
it's just like Alfred to want to be able to save everyone in a crisis, and he decides to make his own duty, as well, to spare as many
lives as possible. It's going to take alot of work, though, and they're going to need as much help as they can get...hopefully that
veteran he fought with back during the war is still alive, for one matter, and still has the key to the hangar. If not...well, they can
always do the illegal thing and break in. It's all for the sake of saving the world, after all, and it's better that those jets be used in
fighting a shadow demon than be sent off to a museum. "Right, exactly...those are the basics, anyway." He furrows his brow at the question,
that...haze from earlier settling over his mind, and he glances down at his notebook as though it will give him some sort of answer. He
can't remember what he had been doing that way, nor can he remember...most of what he had discovered down in those ruins..."That's...
very possible...though, obviously, I can't remember...one option would be to go back and go down into the ruins, but...it would be
extremely dangerous...not physically, per se, but...some demons have the potential to steal your soul. That sort of dangerous."
cannot even feel that shoulder on his hand any more, and even if he did, he would have never thought of it as a symbol of reassurance
because really, at this point, can he even feel reassured any more knowing that that thing is out there, already potentially hurting more
innocent victims? He can't be blamed for his rigidity and his heightened senses, combating with the pure adrenaline. Part of him is still
excited over this prospect of a new adventure, that finally, something is about to happen. But the more sane part pushes this away and
reminds him that this is no game, that people could die, and that he better put his heroic senses to good use. At the prospect of a trip
back down, he looks up. "Oh... okay... well, that doesn't sound too bad, I guess." As long as there are no ghosts, anyways, he can basically
face anything. "Wait, what happens when they steal your soul...? Can you get it back?" And he still cannot believe he just asked that
with a straight face. Urgh, the world is really ending here.
tries to think of something, anything that he could say or do that would break the tension, this fearful atmosphere that seems to
slowly be filling the world around them...but he supposes that it's to be expected, considering everything that is occuring. They're going
to have to put their fears and doubts aside for this, else there won't be...anything left. Though, first things first, they need to get
more people supporting them and make use of those fighter jets...he's not entirely sure that regular bullets will work against the
creature, but he's still hoping that they'll find some means of taking it down. That solemn, sinking feeling returns, and Arthur slowly
shakes his head. "N...No, I don't believe that's possible..."
Alfred
is
already clacking away at his phone using all the information that was handed to him so far. They are responding quite quickly, because
even if he won't admit it out loud, these sorts of things actually do happen, and it's his job to keep it all hush-hush while destroying
the possible threats completely. The fighter jets are apparently being readied, but they just need a bit more information to get just the
right kind of ammo... "... Are you kidding? Okay, well... do we even have another choice? If that's the only way, we have to go! And if
you don't want to, I will anyway!" He's really quite determined to get this mess cleaned up.
stares at him for a moment, knowing that he really should have expected that Alfred would want to make the riskiest decision first, but
..in that sense, it really is the most direct. If he can fight this...thing directly at it's source, then they'll have the least amount
of damage and casualties. Nonetheless..."Don't be ridiculous." He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "As if I would let you do that
alone...I'll cast a protection spell, too, so while you won't be completely invincible against the spirits...as long as you don't make
direct eye contact with one, then you ought to be fine. Be careful, though-they can change their shape at will." He jerks a hand out to
grab onto the front of the seat when the bus comes to a sudden stop in front of the airport, still rather...unnverved by the fact that
they're the other passengers. "...alright, let's see about those fighter jets, then."
Alfred
is
now all pumped and ready to go to this supposed super-scary basement of sorts, already thinking up what guns he should bring along... It
mattered very little if it was a demon or whatever, because whatever could possibly kill people just needed to be taken down, no matter
the method. Pushing himself against the seat at the sudden braking, he gives the other a blanch at his words. "Uh, what happens if you make
eye contact with them? Am I gonna turn into stone or something?" He shakes his head a little doubtfully at that, and at the so-called
protection spell, but if it calms England down... he'll go along with it... At the talk of fighter jets, he perks up. "Yeah, I've sent all
the info to them so far!~ They're currently researching more into it and will text me the results when they get it!~" Pause. "So... what
now? Do we go back to your house?"
pauses at the door of the bus, glancing back at Alfred over his shoulder. Really, the other man shouldn't have to get mixed up in all of
this, considering he didn't have anything to do with causing it...it's not his responsiblity, he could have just left England to deal
with the problem on his own, but...as always, he chose to be the hero. Honestly, at this point he shouldn't even be suprised, and yet..it
never fails to just put him in...awe. He's come to respect his former charge, see him for the wonderful adult he has become."No...they'll
suck your soul out, leaving a shell behind." He tries to keep his voice steady, but he's come across one of the blasted creatures before,
and while their 'natural' form is shapeless..the way they manage to target your memories, your heart and trick you through that is
terrifying, and he sometimes wonder how he escaped the experience...intact. "Ah...yes, I suppose we should while the ruins are still
accesible.."
prepares himself both mentally and physically to deal with whatever it is they need to deal with now, stealing occasional glances at his
phone to see if there are any new updates on the status of the fighter jets or the intended ammo for them. "Oh gee, nice suck out your
soul, of course, why not? Why couldn't it just be scare you to death or something?" Grumble, grumble. He finishes whatever preparations
he can, given that he can't exactly pull out a gun in the bus - mass hysteria was not going to help. "So what now, then? Why did we even
go all the way here...?" Then an idea strikes. "So dude, I think we should split up. How about you go to the airplane staff and dudes and
keep this in control, and I'll go back to your house and get a head start?"
"Well, they don't have much influence on the physical world...though they can take the form of 'real' things, they can't keep it for very
long, and if you pay close enough attention, you can usually tell whether or not you're dealing with a spirit..." He trails off, something-
fear, to be exact-filling him for the first time that day-not for his own life, but for Alfred's. Even if he knows very well that the
other man can hold his own against...well, anything...the idea of letting him go into that place alone...in short, terrifies him. "E-Er,
I'm...I suppose that...would be the more efficient way to do things, but..." But what? If he admits his concern, won't the other man just
laugh it off and tell him not to worry? "I-I...I don't want you killing the monster without me, you know? I-It just doesn't seem fair.."
He fakes a laugh, hoping it doesn't show how nervous he is.
Alfred
has
basically sort of had enough with all this supernatural mumbo-jumbo, and would, at this point, really rather get to the shooting and
whatever action it'll take to get the job done. But knowing England, he'll probably overdo it, over-worry, and just not let him have any
fun. =3= "What? That's all you're worried about?" He gives the other man a big thumbs-up, grinning to reinforce that message. "Neh, dude,
it's totally cool; I can handle myself. So yeah, good luck, and I'll be going ahead! You can text me, or whatever." Then without giving
the other a chance to protest, he ducks out of the bus, hailing a taxi.
England
feels
that panic finally settle over him like a blanket, bringing a sort of finalization to the situation, his cry of the other man's name
drowned out as the bus pulls away, himself still stuck inside. Bugger, bugger, bugger...no, what is he worried about? Alfred can...he'll
be fine, won't he? Hell, he hardly even knows what he's up against, of course he won't...nonethless, it'll take him at least an hour, if
not more, for Arthur to get back to his house...he'll just have to take care of the fighter jets as quickly as possible, and then make his
way back... *Git...I swear, if something happens to you before I get there...(
(...durp. Noone saw that. That was...supposed to be in italics. Yep. /flails/)
successfully hails a cab in a minute or so, immediately dashing in and yelling the directions to the poor driver who doesn't quite know
what's going on and is forced to cower somewhat in the his intimidating presence. He leans back to pull out his phone, waiting for any sort
of feedback from them, pursing his lips impatiently when he finds his messages empty, and that there are no missed calls. Well, looks like
he was going to have to wait a bit longer. "... Geez, this is what happens when you tamper with the other world, Artie."
slides into the first seat with a soft sigh, staring out the window. There's no trace of the bright blue sky that was present when he woke
up that morning-it's completely covered with clouds now, threatening to bring an unhealthy amount of rain to accompany what could very well
be the end of the world. *How ironic...* He shakes his head as though to clear his thoughts, flipping to a page in his notebook that has a
map of the ruins. Probably would have been a good idea to give it to Alfred, though it was copy of something he'd found on a tablet-he
couldn't quite discern the language, though there were notes here and there.
stares out the window, starting to feel the adrenaline fade in his blood from the entire ordeal. He wonders how long it's actually going to
take to get back... Staring at the speedometer, he huffs in impatience. Leaning over to the driver, he asks him to drive about 20 miles
faster, who then gives him a strange look. He grins in reply, encouraging, and offers some extra trips, to which the other immediately
responds to, causing the engine to roar. Then he leans back, staring back outside. Sad thing, money.
decides to get off the bus two stops early and just walk to the hangar-he can't help but feel utterly useless just sitting there, even
if it's technically getting him there faster. Taking another moment to glare up at the sky and cursing himself for not bringing an umbrella,
(that's tips, not trips, dammit)
he breaks into a brisk run, hoping that, as per usual, the back window is unlocked so that he can sneak in. Considering the mechanic who
owns those jets is years past dead, anyway...
(Hrm? Oh,look, spelling mistake~ :3 /highlights)
(shush ;-; )
now starts fiddling with his phone, half-tempted to just send out a random text to someone - anyone - in an effort to distract himself.
And it's not really helping how there's some sort of weird traffic jam happening, because lord knows that that's the best thing that could
possibly happen in a situation like this... Ah... geez, he was starting to sound like Artie, being all sarcastic. Not good. Eh, maybe he'll
just play some games instead... from the looks of things... it might take a bit longer.
England
is
suprised to find the airport completely empty and the doors of the hangar wide open. "Odd.." He mumbles aloud, walking inside and doing a
quick visual sweep of the area. "Air traffic never halts completely...particuarily in London..." He hurriedly shakes his head, even if
it's something that he ought to be concerned about. He can only hope that at least one of these damn things actually has fuel in it..and
that it's one he knows how to fly,for that matter.
blinks and looks up at the sudden speed that the cab travels, a small smile on his face as he sees that the traffic has just suddenly
cleared. Such happiness, however fleeting, is quickly crushed when he sees fallen lamp posts everywhere, and people screaming and fleeing
from a black hole in the ground in front of England's house. Narrowing his eyes, he thanks the driver, paying with with the extra promised,
slamming the door shut and running to the source of it all. Before he enters, he sends a quick text of: "I'm here. How's your end going?"
(Wait...the text is to who, now? Owo Just to be sure.)
(England.... LOL)
(H-Hey, five hours of sleep and two cups of tea, remember? D8 My brain doesn't work as well.)
(Excuses.)
jumps when his phone begins to buzz in his back pocket, the sudden vibration suprising him. He wasn't even aware that he had the bloody
thing with him...pulling it out and flipping it open, a small part of him is releived that Alfred is still alive...and another less so,
knowing that he's about to throw himself into a dangerous situation. Walking towards a fairly well-kept looking Cessna 172, he quickly texts
back (bloody keypad where is the spacebar..?) "So far so good...be careful, would you?"
waits (im)patiently outside the house, surveying the damage as he does so. It doesn't really look like whatever had been released did too
much damage... at least, on the outside. There were some rough spots here and there, but overall, everything seemed to look good and dandy.
At least the mortals were evacuated, or at least, that's what it looked like. Just as he was about to study a weird gooey mess, the phone
rings, and he replies as he rolls his eyes, "Geez, dude, calm down will you? I'm not even in yet. And anyway, I'll be totally fine! I'm
the hero, after all!" Send.. then... "Oh, yeah.. .what was I supposed to do again?"
climbs into the cockpit without too much difficulty, suprisingly calm considering the fact that he's going to have to do this in casual
dress, without any of the proper equipment. He rolls his eyes at the response, taking a photograph of the map in his notebook and sending
it to Alfred through his phone. "Use this...it's got a few of my own notes, so you'll know what floor you're on and, vaguely, what to expect
...you need to get to the heart of the ruins. Text me if you need anything,alright?"
blinks at new the picture sent, trying to make heads or tails of it. Well, he figured out some parts of it, he guesses, but not too much,
so he'll just improvise over those parts and hope it goes all well and dandy! Texting back with, "Alright, will do! And good luck on thos
those* planes, dude, haha!~" Then with that, he flicks it shut, wandering into the house... if its dilapidated state could still be called
that.
briefly reads over the text before slipping his phone back into his pocket, manually pulling the cockpit shut. Bugger, this thing really
is old...a part of him is worried that it'll shake itself to pieces if he actually gets up into the air, but without his spellbooks it's
really the only thing he has as a defense against the monster...he's already got a mini-speech planned out in his head for the Prime
Minister, knowing that the man is going to give him hell about repair costs after this...he's probably breaking some sort of law at the
moment, as well, though that ought to be the least of his worries. Taking a deep breath, he starts up the plane, letting out a soft sigh of
relief when the propellers begin to turn.
begins to walk towards the house, finding it a little funny how just a gentle tap on the door causes it to completely collapse and fall off
its hinges. He glances at his phone quickly, making his way towards the basement, and trying not to be distracted by the amounts of broken
things everywhere inside the house. Which frankly, is really quite hard considering how much he wants to just touch them... No! Shaking
his head, he makes his way down to the basement, trying to find that so-called passage around here somewhere, wondering vaguely why it's
suddenly gone so... quiet.
slowly eases the aeroplane out of the hangar, gripping the wheel tight enough to leave indentions in the steel. Easy...easy...onto the
take-off strip, there you go...he takes another glance at the various dials and meters, wondering when, exactly, flying became so bloody
complicated. Allowing the propellor to run but otherwise keeping the plane still, he pulls his phone out again, sending Alfred a quick
text. Hopefully the wireless towers are still working..."Are you alright? Where are you now?"
Alfred
is
just tapping around the room, on top of random bookshelves, opening random books in the hopes of finding that red button than he can just
click and will reveal everything for him! So far, no such luck.. He jumps a little when his phone rings, rolling his eyes at the text
screaming "worry". "At your basement. Trying to find that underground place. Keep getting distracted, haha." He leans against a desk,
effectively felling a book... followed by a groaning sound. He blinks, turning around at the noise... and sends another text. "Oh, I think I
found it."
waits impatiently for the response, the sound of his phone vibrating making him jump even though he expects it. If anything, the idea that
Alfred is now heading into the ruins, alone, panics him even more...but he's got to remain calm. "Alright, I'm taking off, then. Oh, and
make sure you bring a mirror of some sort with you." He's not even going to bother to explain that one...he'd probably just get a
skeptic response, anyway. Instinctively reaching for a seatbelt that he knows isn't there, Arthur curses softly before finally edging the
aeroplane forward, picking up speed as he goes down the runway. Slowly lifting up the landing gear, he tilts the plane up just a tad and..
finally lets out the breath he'd been holding in as the plane takes flight, moving upwards at a steady pace.
Alfred
is
... not even going to ask what that whole mirror thing is about, because he has an inkling that if he does, it will probably just lead to
more disbelief and pure... just... ugh. Never mind. Looking around the room, he grabs what looks to be a hand-held mirror, stowing it into
his jacket pocket as he takes a deep breath and ducks into the dark mustiness of the passage way. Grabbing a torch by the entrance
(seriously, a torch? How medieval.), he makes his way down, eyes blinking in child-like wonder, and nerves running full on adrenaline.
steadies the plane out once he gets just high enough to fly over the top of Big Ben, taking a moment to look out the sides of the cockpit
and at the sky around him. That's right, bird, stay away from the propellor...it's only mid-afternoon, and yet the sky is as red as though
it were early evening, and his thoughts turn once more to Alfred,with his beautiful, sky-blue eyes-why does the analogy make him shudder now
,giving him the feeling that...something bad is going to happen? He hurriedly shakes the feeling off, focusing on keeping the plane steady
. The Prime Minister's never going to forgive him for crashing into the roof of Parliment, though...
pouts just a little when his foot accidentally makes contact with a rock, causing said rock to crumble into pebbles. It still kind of hurt
though, but he'll push that to the back of his mind. The stairs of which he's descending seem to wind on and on, reminding him of the
spiralling staircase of one of England's castles... but more annoying, because he couldn't quite see the light at the end of the tunnel -
figuratively speaking. He starts to set a brisker pace, footsteps echoing in the narrow vicinity, his one hand gripped tight on his pistol.
Never hurts to be prepared, after all.
takes a deep breath to prepare himself when the building appears on the horizon, slowing down as much as he can before tilting the nose of
the plane directly at the roof, wishing there was at least some sort of horn he could blow as a warning...nonetheless, the loud whirring
of the propellor ought to at least do the trick. Despite the tension of the situation, a bit of that old adrenaline is running through his
veins, something he hasn't felt for a very long time. With a jolt, the plane breaks through the brick and plaster, and he opens the
cockpit and jumps out so as to avoid being crushed under the rubble.
isn't quite sure how long he's been walking for... maybe there was a shortcut and he just completely missed it? Because honestly, that would
have just completely pissed him off. Not that he minded the physical exertion or anything, since he was just barely breaking a sweat. It was
the fact that time was wasting, and someone else might be in danger... the thought of having someone else die because of his own incomptence
did not sit well with him, and with a defiant look, he continues to trudge downwards, hoping that the end would come soon.
makes a brief visual sweep of the room, relieved to see that noone was hurt...in fact, it seems as though the only person in the room is
the Prime Minister himself, looking rather shocked but otherwise alright. He'd done something rather risky, but at least there weren't too
many consequences left behind because of it...clearing his throat, he gives his boss a polite nod and walks over to his desk...or what's
left of it, at any rate. "Good afternoon, sir...as you may have noticed, there are supernatural occurances plaguing London at the moment.
We're not sure of the cause just yet, but we believe it may be the result of one of my spells. I assure you that the issue is being resolved
,but ask that you cancel all transportation and order the public to remain indoors. It would be best if the military remained uninvolved."
With another brisk nod,he does his best to ignore the stupified look on the Minister's face, turning around without another word and walking
out. Now he just has to get back to his home...bugger, and the plane's not very well going to work now...
Alfred
has
finally reached the end of the tunnel (and about time too, because he was just about ready to smash the walls in, in another good few s
seconds). It opens into a larger area, much larger than he ever thought could be possible underground, and he can't help but let out a
whistle of pure admiration as he surveys the scene. Given that everything was just rock and crumbling, it was still pretty amazing. But,
work had to be done! So pulling out his phone to look at the map, he notices with great irritation how his phone just displays static.
"Greeeat." Insert obvious sarcasm here. Ah, well, he was never one for maps anyway! So shrugging that off, he goes into a random direction.
He's going to wing this, dammit.
hurries out of the building and down the abandoned street, mind a whirring panic. Transportation is shut down and all of the people are gone
,so it's going to take him at least twenty minutes to get back to his house. For once, he's glad that he built it in Central London...he
only hopes that Alfred is safe,hasn't gone too far in and,hopefully, hasn't actually run into any spirits yet. It could be that they're
still waking up, gathering power, but that's very wishful thinking, given the state of the city and the colour of the sky..
wanders around with innocent naivety, content to just smell the grass-like aroma that reminds him of home. He finds it odd how there hasn't
been anything that's attacked him yet... though yes, that might be bad luck, but he sort of wishes that at least something would happen!
He was getting kind of bored, but he continues to look around, curious, touching the fading walls here and there. He did love archaelogy,
after all, and this was just amazing. Smiling a little to himself despite the situation, he walks down a path decorated with green moss,
wondering what lies ahead.
England
is
all but pushing himself to the limit now, feeling an extra burst of energy when he spots his house no less than two blocks away, suddenly
feeling the urge to laugh of all things. Perhaps its the fact that, in such a grim situation, he knows there's a bit of hope shining
through it all, the fact that humanity actually has a chance against the supernatural, and that he's been giving the honour of protecting
it. However, these thoughts are suddenly wiped from his mind as an invisible hand sweeps his feet out from under him, knocking him to the
ground. Oh bugger, that means it's gotten stronger...however, if it hasn't taken material shape yet, it means they've still got a chance
of some sort..."Don't try anything with me!" He yells, hopping to his feet and glancing around the abandoned area. "I brought you out here,I
can send you back with no problem!"
pushes the door at the end of the cavern almost shyly, half-expecting to be ambushed then and there. It occurs to him out of the blue that
knowing Artie, he might try and chase after him... so with a huff, he pulls out a piece of string, tying it to the door. Probably paranoid,
the blonde would try and follow him, even when he had already insisted he was fine. Whatever. He continues to explore, into a room that is
still somehow larger than the last, both a little awed and unnerved at how... quiet it's been.
jumps, his 'response' coming in the form of a loud crash and a large, gaping hole suddenly appearing in the cobblestone street not too far
away from where he's standing, almost as though it's been punched by an invisible fist. "Don't you dare!" He warns again, hurrying the
remaining few feet up to what is left of his porch, starting to push rubble away in order to get into the house. He feels a prescence behind
him, watching him, but he knows that if he turns around he'll see something that he doesn't want to see, and that will be the end of him
there.
stops dead in his tracks when a sudden rumbling of the earth causes him to become unsteady on his feet. Rubble falls from the ceiling around
him, and he raises the torch just a little higher with a confused expression. "What the hell..." He doesn't allow himself to move until it's
fully subsided, staring at the ceiling as though it would solve everything. Huffing when no such answer comes, he trudges on, suddenly
feeling very cold down here.
finally manages to dig a decent-sized hole for himself out of the rubble, getting down onto his knees to crawl through it. He can feel the
earth vibrating underneath him, and he takes it as a sign that the creatures in the ruins are starting to wake up, in which case he needs
to get down there fast. However, an all-too-familiar voice comes from behind him, and it takes all of his willpower not to turn around
and look. "Hey, Artie~! What're ya doin' down there~?"
(/wonders if that was some sort of godmodding OTL)
(Not at all!~ Though if you want for later, I should mod your demon and you mod mine haha.)
shivers a little at the sudden temperature difference, wondering how on earth it got so cold so fast, and to mention, he's actually wearing
a jacket, which is making this all the more unbelievable. Still, he continues to move forward, continuously unravelling the string to show
where he is, and where he's gone. His eyes slowly widen, however, when the torch reveals some strange markings on the wall, markings that
he's never seen before. Unable to resist, he takes a pause in his forward walking, leaning in to stare at these archaeological wonders.
(Alright, that works for me~ :3 That way we don't have to 'write' two characters interacting with each other...XD That can often be tiring.)
clamps his hands over his ears, finding himself paralyzed-he should just get away, go into the house...he knows that what he hears is just
a ruse, something devised by the demon to trick him. "I can't hear you, I can't hear you..." He murmurs over and over, willing it to just
go away. He slowly crawls towards the hole, wondering when the hell he became so weak.
(...brain, why did you suddenly die? D
vaguely wonders why the markings are so familiar, yet at the same time, not so. He hums a little to himself as he leans in to study them,
vastly intrigued by their myriad of shapes and sizes that remind him of his own totally awesome drawings! Then it suddenly strikes him: he's
seen these before... in his cellphone, in the drawings and map that England sent him. Mentally cursing, he tries his phone again, only to be
vastly disappointed. Well, isn't this fun...
manages to force himself into the hole, shoving a large, almost uncreognizeable now, chest in front of it to block the demon from following
him inside. Slumping against the rubble with a quiet sigh, he takes a quick glance around his now trashed livingroom-books have fallen off
the shelves, his couch is in ruins...he doesn't even want to see the rest of the house, but he knows it's going to be hell to replace all
of this. Thankfully, most of his historical sentimentals are in a vault at the British Museum...shakily standing to his feet, he walks over
to the basement door, the only part of the house still fully intact. Taking a deep breath, he turns the knob and cautiously starts down the
stairs, listening and looking for signs of anything that could be potentially dangerous.
starts wandering down back the cavern-like path, content to have stared at the wall for a few minutes. Now then, back to the task at hand,
however! Before he takes his first step, he feels a chill run down his spine, and he pauses, eyes widening from the potency of it. It wasn't
fear; it was just pure horror. Willing himself to take another step forward, he tries to ignore the sudden whispering sounds he hears,
focusing on the front. This wasn't over, not by a long shot.
walks to the center of the basement, suprised to see that there is no trace of the large puddle of blood and chalk circle that had been
there no earlier than a few hours before. He's almost there...at this rate, he's going to need his wits and his courage about him. Taking
out his notebook, he flips to the page with the map, going over to the large hole in the wall. "This must lead to the ruins..." He murmurs
aloud, if only to fill the eerie silence that seems to have filled the room.
Alfred
is
not liking the feeling that suddenly permeates from the walls behind him, in front of him, and just around him. If anything, he wants to
just punch it all to make sure that there's really nothing there, but he's pretty sure that England would just nag him about that... and
he's quite in the mood for that. With that, he continues leaving that string on the floor like a bread crumb, braving his way in deeper into
the cave... sure he had just imagined that whispering voice a few seconds ago.
pulls a small, square mirror out of the pocket in the back of his notebook, wiping the dust off of it with the fabric of his shirt. With the
way the house is vibrating around him,combined with the fact that he can see raw magic floating around in large purple blobs, he's going
to need it sooner than he thought...making a small flame appear in the palm of his hand, he sends it a little ways down the tunnel to keep
him from stumbling over god knows what. Turning around and holding the mirror just above his shoulders, he keeps his eyes locked on it and
walks backwards into the passage.
Alfred
is
just imagining that voice, is just imagining that voice, is just imagining that voice that is eerily familiar... but sends chills down his
spine all the same. Keeping the firm look ahead, he grumbles to himself at the fact that, again, this seems to be another monotonously long
passage to which there seems to be no end, and that he better get ice cream at the end of- he just imagined that footstep, right? Yes, of
course he did. Haha, he was being paranoid!~ Of course, of course. Reaching for his gun nevertheless, he snaps it in his hand, ears perked
and waiting. There was no way it could be her... (PST, mod my shiz 8D )
(Hrm...the Native Mother, yes~?)
"Hello there, ayashe..." A soft but kind voice from behind him whispers, followed by warm laughter and a gust of wind, blowing out the
torch lighting his way. "Or...not so little anymore, hm? Didn't you promise to come back and see me? ...could it be that the inteus (one
who has no shame) who took you away has been keeping you from me~?" Another bout of quiet laughter, accompanied with footsteps echoing
across cold stones. Something reaches and grabs hold of America's gun, giving it a brief tug. "Ayashe...? Are you planning on killing me
again? Are you going to pollute my land and slaughter my people, our people and replace them with those pasty dolls that everyone else
calls human...?"
Alfred
is
definitely now not imagining that soft and tender voice that just radiates warmth... is he? Because if he is, his imagination must be
really working overtime, because it just feels so... real. He immediately freezes on the spot, almost immediately whirling around at the
sound of her voice, that sends that sadness through him like none before. "Hvshki... You... you can't be real, you... you disappeared..."
The pounding sounds in his head echo and reverberate, gluing him to the spot with his eyes shut at her next words, the guilt immediately
flooding through him as he shakes his head desperately, not even noting the touch on the gun. "No, no, no... It's not his fault... I..." He
takes a shaky step froward, bracing himself for the pain that has long since disappeared when he last thought of her. "N-no, hvshki... I
wouldn't... wouldn't kill you... I didn't do that, I swear! I-I had no choice..."
A small, white light flickers in the dark stairwell, similiar to a will-o-wisp, as if taking shape from America's panic. "We both know that
isn't true, ayashe~...don't you remember what you promised? 'I won't let them get rid of you-we can both be America'. But you were lying
to me...when the 'colonists' came, you were so happy with your new life that you didn't do anything to stop them, did you? And now look what
you've done to the land..." There's another soft, almost cynic laugh, the light flaring up and taking the shape of a dark-skinned woman,
with long, braided hair and an almost wild appearance. "But all of that can be forgiven, dear ayashe...you just have to do one thing for
me, alright~?"
Alfred
feels
the words penetrating his very core, dredging up memories that he would have been better off completely forgetting... or at the very least,
hidden within his cases and cases of other memories. Why this is affecting him so much, he doesn't understand... perhaps its the sudden
appearance of the problem, or its perhaps because his nerves were already so on edge that it would only take a little... Eyes snapping open
at the words, mind breaking itself apart from the truth ringing in them, he gives an almost resigned sigh as his hold on the torch
strengthens. Anything, anything to fix what he's done to her... and to so many other people... "What... what would you have me do, hvshki?
The figure suddenly warps and fades, turning back into a small will-o-wisp before changing to a bright, violet hue. Floating a bit closer,
it emanates a lower-pitched, almost childish sounding laughter. The orb shifts and takes shape again, this time as a tall, platinum-blonde
young man. He grins, pressing something hard and metal to the American's chest, eyes shining with something that would never be seen in
those of a human. "I would have you rot in hell, da~"
(...t-technically, none of this is...godmodding, right...? ;; 'cause it's just...y'know...demons and...stuff...
(Nope, not really... xD)
(Hokai, that's good. :3)
awaits shakily the consequences of his action, mind racing through all the possibilities. He would really give anything to make this work
out, because of all the injustice... He did try to fight back, but it was clearly a useless effort, told to move on and never glance back.
But he couldn't help glancing back until the memory slowly faded... but still ever-present. Taking a deep breath, his eyes snap shut when
he feels that coldness on his chest, the sheer familiarity of that voice, coupled with the tension in his muscles serve to boil the blood
in his veins. Eyes redirecting themselves to the figure, meeting that odd gaze with his own fiery ones, he yells, "What the fuck, Russia?
Where's my hvshki?!"
Cold, violet eyes twinkle with amusement, the figure becoming larger, more prominent, as though the American's outburst is giving it more
power. The gun is pressed a bit more insistently against the strong, broad chest, barrel cocked and loaded. "She's not here anymore, da~ You
killed her, didn't you~?" The imitation Russian reaches up, roughly grabbing hold of America's chin in an attempt to get him to open his
eyes. "But that's alright, because you can still make up for it~...'a life for a life', da~?"
Shit. He can only swear as the darkness completely envelopes his line of sight, giving the stupid Commie all the more of an edge against
him, which is not helping. A small part of his mind is nagging at him to wonder why his sadistic counterpart hasn't come out... in that
something about this Russia is off. Trying very hard to keep out those trespassing words, he hears that familiar sound of a gun,
followed by a yank on his chin that makes him cry out in pain, and he shakes his head to attempt to pull out of the grasp. "Oh, fuck you,
Commie! Why the hell are you here? Didn't you learn your lesson last time?" One hand blindly gropes for his own gun, adrenaline rushing
through his veins.
A quiet, mocking chuckle fills the corridor, 'Russia' reaching down with a gloved hand to grab America's wrist. "Ah-ah~...we're going to
play it my way this time~" The trigger is squeezed, firing a blank against America's chest as a warning of sorts, though in the echo, the
sound of several...creatures, hiding in the shadows, can be heard. "Such a vulgar mouth~...is it any wonder that you can't save anyone
when you're so weak~?" The leather-covered appendage squeezes his jaw, more than vaguely amused at the blonde man's defiance. "You
should know better than to fight it~...you want to atone for your sins, don't you~?"
hisses when yet another contact on his body is made by his long-time enemy, and he shakes firmly to move him out of his grasp... but toAva
to no avail*. How weak had he become to not be able to put up a struggle? The playful words don't help, and if anything, raises the spite
and contempt. "Shut up, Commie! What would you know about my sins?" A gasp escapes his lips from the gun, and his eyes immediately shoot
open to survey the damage. An odd feeling reverberates from his chest, and his breath hitches.
"I think that what don't I know would be a more accurate question, da~" The other sounds are getting closer, and the building begins to
vibrate with more force than before. "But we don't have much time to argue about that,because it'll all be over soon,and I can't hold this
form forever~" The gun is pulled away from America's chest, one more blank being fired for good measure. "Tell me, United States of America~
What would you be willing to do to atone for your sins~?"
"That form....?" The first clue of enlightenment finally settles upon his shoulders, and he immediately clamps his eyes shut back once
more, now more than ever trying to resist your hold and your gaze. So these were one of the demons that England was talking about... hah,
how ironic it would take the shape of his personal demon from not too long ago. That somehow makes his resolve stronger, knowing that
despite previous animosities, he wouldn't have to resort to calling him forth. Struggling to push you away roughly, he replies, " Don't
know what sins you're talking about dude, but if you can't stay long, then just go the fuck away now, yeah?~"
The imitation flickers for a brief moment, the smile on its face appearing more stressed. The gun dissapears from its hand,no longer of any
use, even as a threat. "How cruel...I told you we would be playing this my way, da~? You can't just make up your own rules like that~ It's
not fair~" It changes forms one last time, the vibrations from up above almost impossible to ignore at this point. Just one more soul,
that's all the extra push they'll need...a hand reaches up to grab America's cheek again, though this time the hold is much gentler. "Are
you just trying to make things difficult for me, luv..?"
can almost feel a smirk of somewhat-victory creeping its way onto his lips, brought on by the obvious defeat in the words uttered by the
"demon". He still finds it quite scary how it was so... similar to the real Russia; it even brought chills down his spine at his very
words. He's just glad that his other side was more observant than himself to not come out. He feels the hold dissipate, ready to about move
on to try and figure things out, his mind still in a slight disarray from the appearance of... her. But just as he's about to move on,
he feels another hold on his cheek, and his eyes shoot open, before they flick now instinctively to the wall behind the figure. "Oh, what
the hell...?"
*Oh, I've got you now~...you put up quite the fight, 'hero', but there's no way for you to get out of this one~ There are other's like me,*
(OH, BUGGER AND BLAST-.../blames plurk for formatting fail ;A
*but I assure you they're much worse.* 'England's' lips curl up in a small smile, and he tilts his head to the side, feigned hurt shimmering
in his eyes. "What's wrong, Alfred..? Why won't you look at me? And after I came all this way to help you...seems rather ungrateful, don't
you think?"
"A-Artie, let me go!" The first sign that would have alerted him to the fact that this was not England, even if he hadn't met the previous
demons, was that he was much too... personal and in-your-face in terms of physical proximity. All the same, his words stung and bit at his
mind, tempting him oh-so-much to just look at him and tell him off, but he knows that that could mean the end of it. Why couldn't he really
move, damn it? "You're not England, that's why! Now let me go, you demon!"
"What are you going on about, Alfred~? We both know that you could easily push me away if you wanted~" He chuckles without any humour,
the hand on America's face shifting ever-so-slightly in an imitation of a caress. "A demon? Oh, that hurts, luv...and here I thought that
you trusted me..." Oh, this is much too fun. If anything was worth all of those years,trapped underground, it would be this, seeing that
look of utter confusion on a human's face. Or at least, the closest he could get to one.
knows he can push England away too easily, but the familiar feel of that skin on his and the same voice being emitted from his mouth makes
it all the more difficult... even more so when the memories of before come tumbling in, an onslaught of horrible nostalgia that he'd rather
not quite have to relive. Somehow, even the simple words get through to him... no, he can't push the man away when he's already done that
once, and somehow he feels his will melt, if just a little. "Just tell me what the hell you want, you bastard. And take that disgusting form
off."
"It's simple, really~.." He hums, finally pulling his hand away. There's really no need to keep the form any more, but he's got the
feeling that as long as he does, he'll be able to do and say as he likes-America hasn't shown any sign of pulling away or trying to hit him
at this point, so he seems to have chosen well. "All you've got to do is-" He pauses when footsteps echo from the other end of the
corridor, signaling that someone is coming in to the ruins...another person? No, that's impossible, not when he's so close.."Alfred~..
you came here alone, didn't you~?"
tries to keep down that irritated sound in his throat at being denied his information, and to get that, he'll stay here for as long as
necessary. He only vaguely hears that rumbling come down the hallway, and but he's much too engrossed with the matter at hand to think
about anything else, much less observe anything else. Nodding to the question, he replies, "Yeah, I did. Why does that matter to you?"
Despite knowing that this is not England, he can't help but let his guard down a little... it's just too weird to ever try and cross
swords with him again...
"Because there's another person here~...can't you hear that~?" He gives the American a vaguely annoyed smirk, blood boiling under skin
created by age-old sorcery. "I'm going to be very, very upset if I find out that you called someone here to help you~..you wouldn't want
to let down your hvishki, would you~? Not after you promised to make up for what you did to her~..."
can now definitely hear that, now that it's been pointed out so blatantly, but he can't, for the love of God, determine who it could be.
It couldn't be England, could it...? He should have been out elsewhere with another task... Dammit. It could be; knowing him too well,
he'd probably just come to try and help, even if he had said too many times that he would be fine. Panicking a little at what this fake
would do, he grimaces at the mention of his hvshki again. "Just tell me what you want me to do, bastard, and leave that person alone!"
"Well, well, did I strike a nerve~?" He lets out another soft chuckle, raising his hand and causing several of the torches hanging on the
wall to light up, allowing him a glimpse of the person making the corridor-none other than the man he's currently pretending to be. Oh, this
England
is
going to be alot of fun~...quickly changing his form to match that of America's,he adopts a slightly panicked expression, waving wildly at
the Englishman. "Hey, Artie, you really took your time getting here, huh~? Mind giving me a hand with this guy~?"
feeling a light shudder pass through England, he wonders what exactly has happened, and his eyes start to inch open to find out, before he
quickly realizes his mistake and clamps it back shut. Gritting his teeth at the fact that one of his senses have now been temporarily deemed
useless, he lets go of that tension in his jaw when his brain comprehend the words. "Wha-...? Artie?" Shit, he did come. "Artie, go away!
Go back! I can handle this!"
stops a foot or so away from what appears to be two America's, blinking a few times to make sure that his mind isn't playing tricks on
him. No, there's definetly more than one...obviously, one of them is one of the many demons that he warned Alfred about, and it would be
just like the git to ignore everything he had told him could be used in defense...the America farthest from him gives him that signature
grin, as though beckoning him closer, while the closest one is insisting that he leaves...he'll just have to avoid looking at either of
them for the moment,until he's absolutely sure. "Like hell I'm going to leave you here, you sod...didn't you get a mirror like I told
you?"
immediately pretends to look a little offended at that statement, giving the other the most puppy-like pout he could possibly muster without
grossing himself out or straining his face. "Ehh... that was mean, England. Of course I did, but as you can see, I was able to handle
it without one!" As though to emphasize his point, he tugs on the real thing. "Don't mind him, he just doesn't want you to seal him up." He
smiles a little. "Come on, Artie, take care of him already!~"
England
gives
America a quizzical look, not sure to be relieved to see that he's still alive, or to tell him off for running off on him earlier and
getting himself into this situation. He's seen that pout countless times, but for once it sends a small sliver of...dread through him,
and he hurriedly tries to shake it off. "It doesn't look as though you're...handling it very well to me..." He keeps his eyes locked on
the other's arm, pulling out his notebook as though it will offer him some sort of guidance. "Don't be ridiculous, Alfred...how do I know
that you're not the demon? No offense, of course."
huffs as you pull out that notebook, already seemingly distracted from what should be the sole focus of your attention: him. After all,
he'd rather actually see the light leave the eyes of his victim... which in this case is proving quite difficult for either you or America,
the stubborn goats that you both are. He has to resist the smirk that threatens to emerge at your words, and pulls on America even closer,
issuing a small gasp. "It's obvious, isn't it? Duh, dude, I think the real America - meaning me - wouldn't just stand there so quietly,
dont'cha think?" Huff. "Besides, if you want more proof, you can always closer. =3="
does his best to ignore you, flipping back to his map of the ruins. Honestly, they're not even on the first floor yet...if the demons here
are already this powerful, than that spell must have awakened something large...the gasping sound catches his attention, and he looks up
,having to remind himself not to look you or America in the eyes. "I-I'm not too sure that's a good idea, Alfred...come now, let him go-it's
not like you to be so rough."
Alfred
is
quickly starting to lose his patience; what is with these two? Couldn't they let go of their self-control for just a few seconds' worth
of fun? Alright, perhaps it wouldn't be too much fun for them, but give him a break. Slumbering for who-knows-how-long, he deserves his
entertainment, and damn it all, he will get his fun. Rolling his eyes at you (and sorely tempted to throw a rock at your head to as your
attention again wanders elsewhere), he says, "Why nooot? Ya' know I can't hold this dude forever..." He sighs a little sadly, pretending
to wince as though he's being affected. "And I can't help it! It's... I'm getting tired holding him. Artie, just hurry up over here. I'll
show ya' that scar from back then..."
hesitantly takes a step towards America, rolling his eyes at the familiar whine in the other's voice. He flips to a page of spells in his
notebook, glad that he has a few packets of salt left over from his breakfast at the cafe that morning. "Yes, I'm fully aware of that..
regardless, you wouldn't mind if I performed a little..purification spell, would you? Just so I can be sure." He flinches at the mention of
that time and that wound, nearly faltering enough to look up at the other man's face. "T-That won't be necessary, Alfred...t-that is, I,
ah,trust you..."
Alfred
feels
that immensely irresistible instinct to just step back at the mention of the spell and the salt, but withholds himself from doing so, lest
he give himself away. He does shuffle a bit backwards though... just in case. A hurt look on his features, he proceeds to turn up that whine
just a little more. "I don't think you do..." he says a little sadly. "I'm here, this thing about to suck the life out of me, and you'r
just standing there wasting time with precautions..." He fidgets embarrassingly, tightening his grip just a little more. "If you really
trusted me, you'd let me just show you this scar... and we can get it over with, yeah?"
slowly closes his notebook, closing his eyes in order to take a deep breath. Blast it, the other man just had to sound so hurt, didn't
he? "H-Honestly, don't be ridiculous...you ought to know at this point that I do." There's no harm, necessarily, in letting Alfred
"prove" himself in that sense, but he doesn't want those memories, that guilt to resurface. "V-Very well, then...I suppose it'll be the
most efficient way to get this done..."
can feel that small dawn of victory nearby when you finally close that damn book (and he idly wonders what's in it in the first place).
This was much too fun, much too easy, when playing upon the heart strings of two people so closely bound... but at the same time, not so.
Nodding eagerly as he smiles, he gestures a little to allow you to move closer, nerves tingling in excitement at the possibility of his
food coming to play.~ "Thanks, Artie!~" He sighs in relief. "C'mere, then, just watch in case this guy tries to make any sudden moves..."
Now, come closer.~
can't help but feel extremely uneasy,momentarily tempted to look into those wide, sky-blue eyes for comfort-he just barely manages to stop
himself,stepping closer Alfred after another moment of hesitation. Really, he shouldn't be so paranoid, this is you after all, and you
haven't done anything to hurt him...however, a small voice in the back of his mind tells him that that's exactly what you want him to think,
though he hurriedly shakes it off. "I-I...yes, of course...you're welcome.." Almost as an afterthought, he reaches down and grabs hold of
the other America's arm, the one who's still standing stock-still and staring at the wall.
((I'm just gonna make this happen now so you can... do whatever you think is best. xDD))
(...make what happen, now? Owo Hm?)
can't quite move for reasons unknown to him; he knows that if he tries, he can move his fingers and toes, and so why couldn't he just move
the rest of his body? The simplistic answer was that it was in his mind, for the sole reason that he was still shocked from having seen
three entities that had the closest bonds to him, whether they be hate or love... but that sudden touch of his hand is what jolts him awake,
and he immediately startles to as he notices an odd aura emanating from the him holding him, and he jerks out of the demon's grasp in time
to shove the only other person there. "Artie, move!"
stumbles back and hits the wall at the sudden force applied against him, grabbing hold of one of the many torch-holders to catch himself in
time to prevent an untimely, painful meeting between his head and the ground. "A-Alfred?" He asks with more than a bit of confusion,
wondering how he didn't notice it before-that slight purple haze around what he had thought to be America, and he briefly wonders if his
senses truly are dulling in his old age. He digs through his pockets for the mirror he'd slipped in there earlier, hoping it's still in one
piece.
((Okay, mod the demon and amnesia the sucker out of America, okay?~ 8D))
(Yea? XD Will do~)
grits his teeth at the successful push, sparing a glance at the other to yell out, "Artie, just stay back! This thing is the demon, right?"
He can't help but immediately and instinctively step in between you and the supernatural creature, before he looks back at it with grimness
in his eyes. "Hey you, demon, take that form away and just face me!" And although he's already been warned before, he pulls out his pistols,
thinking nothing more than to take down this demon.
"America" narrows his eyes in annoyance, hand shooting out almost nonchalantly to punch a decent sized hole in the stone wall. Really, and
when he was so damn close, too~..."Aww, how cute...you really want to fight me~? What's that going to accomplish, hm~?" A mocking laugh
echoes throughout his chest at the sight of the gun, and he walks towards you without the slightest trace of fear in his expression,
reaching up to grab hold of the gun. "But let's be honest...what kind of hero can't even save himself, hm~?"
solidifies the hold on his guns as it comes closer, with that face that looks exactly like his, except twisted in ways that he'd never see
himself in. The expression was just exuding an aura of evil, something that he never (or hopes never) would see. The sadistic tone in the
voice makes him shiver something fierce; it reminds him of the other him, sounding too much like that. But upon the hold of his gun, he
immediately snaps back to reality, staring at the other fiercely in the eye. "I don't need to save myself; I'm perfectly fine on my own!
Now leave us alone!"
"Oh, but you do~ You're really just so weak, aren't you~? I'm you, remember~? You're just waiting to fall apart, aren't you? It'd be
merciful of me to go ahead and help you with that~" "America" gives him a smile that produces roughly the same effect as nails scraping
against a chalkboard, letting go of the gun in favour of pressing a hand against his prey's chest, directly against his heart. "Because if
you can't save yourself, then you've got no reason for existing~ If you don't know who you are, it's fine if that person just fades away,
right~?"
"What are you talking about? I'm not falling apart; look at me, I'm on the top. You're clearly just some imposter!" But he can't help
somewhat taking those words to heart, a notion even more intensified when that smile causes him to grit his teeth even more, desperately
trying not to fall to his knees in the ultimate show of weakness. But his hands do fly to his ears to cover the sound, leaving him
defenseless as he fights the slowly emerging demons within. "Just. Go. Away." He hisses.
"You? On the top? That's the most pathetic thing I've ever heard~! Hah, you don't actually believe that, do you~?" Oh, yes, he's got
his prey cornered now. It seems as though he's discovered a hidden weakeness,and it just might be the key to getting this self-proclaimed
hero to submit. What joy it would be to hear a human begging for their own demise once more~..."It hurts because it's true, doesn't it,
Alfred~? Just look into my eyes-I am you. I know exactly how much of a weakling you are~"
doesn't find anything remotely funny about this entire situation, and the fact that this thing is so eager to just laugh at him in these
sort of circumstances just sends his blood boiling. "Of course I do!" he replies adamantly. "Why the hell would I say that if I wasn't?" And
if anything, even if he wasn't, he's still trying to get there, which is the entire point. Pulling his gun back, he aims it at the thing's
chest, somehow hypnotized into not actually shooting, but talking. "Oh, do you now? And why would you know such false information, huh?"
"Ooohh, pulling a gun on me~? You're quite the adult, aren't you~?" The demon jeers, knowing very well that, in it's current state, a
gun won't have any effect on him...if America does decide to shoot, however, it'll give him a chance to have even more 'fun'. "Oh, I don't
know...maybe because you're just too afraid to admit it~? And it's like I said- I'm you. I know everything about you, so you can't lie
to me~"
"Me? Afraid? Please." It's his turn to jeer a little, though that's a bit marred by the fact that he's growing more and more uneasy with
every passing second. "How can you be me, when I'm me?" Okay, well now this was just slightly confusing him, but it didn't matter; he had
to make sure it wouldn't harm England. "I'll ask again: what do you want?"
"Yes, afraid~ You're so terrified that I bet the smell won't wash out of these walls for years~ But that's fine, because I'll be
inhabiting the human's world soon enough~" He can feel himself getting closer, though he hasn't quite broken America's will just yet-he'll
just have to take a more...direct route. "I told you, it's a soul I need...but if I can't have yours, then I'll just take the next best
thing~" He says in a sing-song voice, snapping his fingers and causing a few stones from the ceiling to come loose and fall down towards
the Englishman's head.
Alfred
is
going to completely disregard that statement; he would never show fear, especially not in the face of an enemy, and especially not in
front of a creature who's made poking fun of weaknesses their life and game. But was he terrified right now? He would think not; more on the
lines of confused and irritated. But the sudden explanation, followed the tumbling of rubble makes his eyes widen, and instincts scream
out as he runs over to England, pushing him out of the way. "Artie!" The collision allows the other to get out of the way, slamming him
against a wall, but causing a scrape on his own leg - perhaps it was even broken. "What the hell! Don't touch him! If you really need a
damn soul, take mine and leave him alone!"
snaps out of the slightly fazed, confused stupor he had gone into when he was knocked to the ground in the first place,a sudden rumbling
sound, harsh shove and cold laughter making his senses reel and his adrenaline rush, bringing him back to reality. A quiet crunching sound
comes from his shirt pocket, and he knows that must be the mirror breaking-his main means of defense, because know the most he can do is
cast an incantation and hope that it will at least weaken whatever that damn demon is planning on doing. It takes him a moment to notice
that the fake America is actually speaking again, a cruel grin on his face. "That sounds like a fair enough trade~...you're giving me
permission to take my soul, then, if I leave him alone~?"
*your soul
confirms his slightly bruised - sprained, really - ankle as he attempts to move it, only letting out a small hiss of pain as a betrayal
of his body part, having been much more accustomed to stronger and more brutal injuries. But this immediately is dismissed when the thing
starts talking again, and he can only glare at it as it does, before this look of defiance melts into one of pure certainty. "Yes," he
utters without any sort of hesitation. "But only if you promise to leave him alone."
finally manages to find his voice, vocal chords starting to work again when he sees the demon start to walk towards America, hand
outstretched and cold grin stretched wide across his face. "Damn you, I'll die before I let that happen!" He protests, just barely
managing to push his jelly-like limbs away from the wall and between Alfred and the imitation. The bloody creature chooses that moment to
laugh at him again, and he simply glares in response, repeating the incantation over and over in his head. "What do you think you're doing
,Artie~? Didn't he just say he would be willing to do it~?"
"Artie, don't do this!" Forcing all his strength into his leg and mustering the willpower to just stand, he does so, limping a little. But
gaining his bearings, he immediately places a hand on the other's chest and pushes - hard - to send him tumbling back against the wall. He
grimaces at the sound of bones against rock, but he rearranges his features into one of defiance. "No." Turning towards the demon, he
quickly takes its hand. "I told you I'll do it, but only if you don't hurt him. If not, then the deal is off."
finds himself falling again, a sharp pain reverberating through his chest, though he's not sure if it's from the impact or the fact that
Alfred is about to give himself and there's nothing he can do about it..."Y-You...what the hell do you think you're doing?? Y-You..can't..
" The protest is weak, a helpless plea, and the demon laughs, roughly squeezing America's hand. "Now that's more like it~ It's fun when
the prey fights, but you have to give up sometime~ Now..." He smirks, the twisted expression spreading across his face. "Look into my eyes
and give in!"
guiltily ignores the weak cry from behind him, and shifts to move closer to the damn thing. A cool feeling overtakes him when it squeezes
his hand a little, but his expression remains defiant. "Do not hurt Artie. You promised!" And then he takes a deep breath, sparing a glance
at the other. "Artie, ya' gotta run okay? And get some help from the other nations!" With that, he does as told, staring into the
thing's eyes boldly.
stubbornly shakes his head, far past the point of being even remotely reasonable. He can gather the other nations, yes, and take care of
the rest of the nations, but now..."D-Don't be ridiculous...I'm not going to leave you..." He tries to push himself up again, but his legs
have lost all feeling-he can feel the demon's eyes on him, mocking him with a cold stare. "Sure, sure~ I'm a spirit of my word~..shame I
can't do anything to him, though, because I'd really like to see him squeal~" He stares into the American's eyes, seeing all of the
memories, thoughts and dreams and eagerly soaking them all up.
The demon now cheers internally for his victory, gulping up that food of his that is a very human - or nation's - essence. If anything, he
preferred nations, for they just had so much more life in them, and thus, so much more... meat in them, per say. It was almost a whole
feast, all to himself. Already, he could feel America going limp in front of him, his wrist no longer taut as his very life was sucked out
of him. Finally, victory.
(Nooooooo-ahem. I mean...alright, what now...? Owo)
(Go as England and attempt to stop it? xD Unless you want him to die LOL)
(No, no, death is bad. ;; Hokai~)
England
is
only able to watch, eyes wide with horror, as Alfred's, his Alfred, life is sucked out of him, and it feels as though his own heart is
breaking, stomach tying in knots and threatening to exit through his mouth. He doesn't have the energy to scream and standing is still
impossible, but he'll be damned if he just sits by and lets America be taken away like that-holding his hand out towards the demon, he
squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on gathering the magical energy around him. He murmurs the incantation under his breath, as though
making sure that he remembers it, before saying it aloud-he's not even fully aware of what he's saying at this point, honestly, but it
sounds like a bizarre mixture of Latin, Greek, and something Germanic. He hears a loud gust of wind and the sound of someone screaming,
but when he tries to open his eyes, he realizes that he can't. Hoping for the best, he slumps back against the wall, fading out of
conciousness.
The demon feels itself growing more and more powerful with each memory, each millisecond that the other is in his arms, just being so weak
and submissive towards him. He can almost see it, the end of that hole of memories. If he reaches that, then America will be no more. But
just as his fingers are about to caress it, a striking blow to his gut sends him reeling backwards, before a searing pain from that spot
forces his eyes to bug out and his mouth open to curl into a scream. He flails at the burning sensation from within him - pain, pain...
more pain until... all is nothing. America blinks, falling to the ground in a heap, groaning. Rubbing his head, his vision slowly swimming
into existence in front of him, he looks around... Uh... where was he...? He... doesn't quite recall, but his eyes set themselves upon
England, a figure he'd always recognize, splayed against the wall. Eyes widening, he crawls on over to the body, firmly shaking his
shoulders. "Artie, Artie, wake up!"
slowly opens his eyes, looking up at America with a slightly dazed look on his face. A confused smile tugs at his lips, and he reaches up to
poke the other man's cheek. "Oh, Alfred...you're alive...?" Then he pauses, pulling his hand away. That is, unless...the demon had succeeded
,and is now just trying to trick him. "...you are Alfred, aren't you?" He asks hesitantly, trying to sit up and wincing when his (most
likely broken) bones scream in protest. "Oh, bloody hell...don't ever scare me like that again, you understand?"
smiles a little when you come to, shaking just a few more times on the shoulder to make sure you're not going to black out on him again.
But your comment makes him frown. "Huh? Of course I'm alive... why wouldn't I be?" Maybe England has slowly gone mad from the effect of the
demons... "And yes, I'm Alfred..." He reaches over and places a hand on his forehead. "You okay, dude? You don't have a fever... you're
being delusional again, aren't you?"
blinks a few times, trying to force himself to stay focused and awake. It's so difficult, though, because he knows that the main part of
the danger has passed and all he has to do is seal off the ruins...managing another smile, he leans into the hand, deciding not to point out
he's just relieved, not necessarily delusional. "Thank god..." He sighs, finally managing to push himself into a decent sitting position."
I-I thought you were...for a moment, I honestly thought you were going to..." He halts and bites his lip, tears threatening to flow from the
corners of his eyes. He can't say it because he doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to think about what could have happened to
you...
's eyes widen in the darkness, acting almost like flashlights in the cave that is still much too eerie for his liking. He may not remember
remember much after he started playing with the drawings on the wall, but he doesn't like knowing that something actually caused England to
cry... "Artie! What?! Are you crying? Wh-what happened? Who hurt you?" He frowns, looking around. Everything looked clear enough to him...
hurriedly shakes his head, reaching up to wipe his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "D-Don't be ridiculous, I'm not crying.." He murmurs
half-heartedly, pausing to give you a quizzical look. "What...what do you mean 'what happened'...? You just...with the demon...don't tell me
you don't know...?" No. There's no way that he actually just dreamed or imagined all of that...perhaps it's just the demon trying to
play another mind trick on him...
"Huh?" Now he's just insanely worried about you; now you're really spouting nonsense that's making absolutely no sense to him. He can't make
heads or tails out of it... maybe he should hit you on the head...? Ah, or that might make it worse. "You too are crying." He leans in a
little. Yep, definitely tears. "Calm down, dude, just calm!" He's starting to feel concerned for your sanity... not that... he hadn't always
been doing that... "What demon are you talking about?"
England
thinks
that he's either finally lost his mind or that you're playing some sort of cruel joke on him by pretending to be an amnesiac git.
Unfortunately, both options are rather likely...if only to hide the fact that he's on the verge of tears, (as well as to assure himself that
you are, in fact, alive and well,) he pulls you into a hug, taking a deep, shaky breath. If you are just messing with him, then he'll play
along, even if it makes him feel slightly...ill and confused. "It's...nothing. Really, I'm fine.."
startles himself from the hug, instinctively reacting as any guy should... or, well, technically him to you: he untangles your arms as
nicely as possible and leans back a few inches. "Uh... dude, what? Did you just hug me? That... is just really weird." Okay, maybe the
caves had some sort of effect that made the people delusional and over-emotional...? Because England just suddenly hugging him... well,
that was definitely off. "Y-yeah, I don't really think you're fine." The hug sort of proved that. "But listen, can we just finish with
sealing this place off and stuff and get out of here? It's giving me the chills."
looks confused at the sudden loss of warmth and comfort, however brief it had been, a wave of hurt shooting through him that he quickly
masks with his usual bitter indifference. "Er...I...um." How wonderful, now he's gone and added a dose of awkwardness to the situation
without even knowing it...fate, why must you be so cruel to this particular Englishman? "...I wasn't hugging you, I just...couldn't support
myself, so I fell." He lies, though it may actually be rather believeable, considering he's not even standing now-just slumped against the
wall, and he's sure that if he tries to move he'll just fall again. "Right...sealing off the ruins. Look, I'll...finish things here. You go
ahead and go back up top.."
knows that England has never really been stable in the mind, per say - what with the constant harping on about nonexistent creatures that
seriously... do not exist, but this was just taking the cake. Never once had he engaged in physical er... "activity", and this...? Yeah,
this was just off the charts. But the explanation was something he believed, and he sighs in relief. "Oh, okay! Here, let me help ya'." He
reaches over and places your arm around his shoulder, stabilizing you. "Seriously, dude? You can't even stand. Why the hell would I leave
you here alone?"
keeps his palm placed firmly against the wall, leaning into the support a bit. Really, it just seems as though he's never going to
understand you or your reasons for whatever it is that you do. And he's not still hurt from being pushed away like that, nope..."Of course
I can stand...it's probably just a...few broken ribs or something..." As if on cue he winces, swearing quietly under his breath. "Oh, bugger
and blast it...mmph. Did you see where my spellbook went...? I swear I had it just a moment ago, and I'll need it to seal this place up.."