Family Ties [Part 47]
May. 27th, 2010 08:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): England, Wales, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland, France, New Zealand, Australia, Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, America, Mexico, Brazil.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Early chapter due to me going to the con over the weekend and not being able to post then. Hope the large amounts of angst in this one will tide you over.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Walking up through the ruined streets of Liverpool, Darren felt a chill pass over him that had little to do with the wind. Ahead of him, Arthur stopped, dropping his gun.
Neither of them said a word.
Bile rose in Darren's throat, but Arthur was the first to retch his lunch into the bushes.
-----
Aine screamed until all the windows in a three mile radius shattered into a million diamond fragments, and then kept going.
Elsewhere, Éibhear joined her in mournful harmony.
-----
James didn't understand why Francis was crying. He'd checked him for injuries, he'd asked him again and again, but the man wouldn't stop sobbing, couldn't control his tongue to speak in anything but anguished French. The northern Nation hadn't been able to speak that language since... there was a fog in the way of the rest, but it still boiled down to the fact that he was keeping the gun away from his lover's hands for reasons he couldn't comprehend.
"Mon petit, mon chéri," the Frenchman moaned, rocking back and forth. "Dieu, pourquoi? Mon fils!"
Confused, the Scot merely held his partner, stroking his hair in a way he hoped was comforting. Why there was an echo in his mind of this unknown sadness, he didn't know. Instead, he let the fog pull him deeper, until even the echo vanished into nothing.
-----
"Aussie?" Katherine called, iPod headphone in one ear with an audio book playing. She searched the house, unsure as to why the feeling of dread she'd been managing to suppress better lately had returned full force. Falklands had suddenly run off outside to make a phone call, leaving her alone. "Oz?" Eventually she stumbled upon him in the office, and a little relief dampened the feeling of creeping terror. "There you are..." but oddly, her brother was staring at the screen-saver on his computer. There were a few seconds of delay before he blinked, looking at her.
"Kiwi..." his voice sounded hoarse, his eyes red. "... Mattie, he..."
Oddly, there was no moment of delayed recognition, which was possibly more frightening and unusual than anything her nightmares could conjure up. The moment of realisation was horror enough.
-----
'The edge of this building is awfully high,' thought Katyusha, staring down at the courtyard of the Slavic NWO headquarters. 'The sky is very clear too.' Perhaps she could fly off into it, to heaven...
Once they saw the blood on her hands, they would send her straight to hell. And they wouldn't want such an awful person either, and they'd send her back here. Was there any point?
Oh, Matvey...
"Syestra."
She turned around so fast she nearly fell, but large hands steadied her. "Vanya, you're up!" she uttered, surprised. Her little brother looked her over worriedly.
"... shouldn't stand so close to the edge, da?" he pulled her closer, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his long coat. Her breath hitched, but her tears, for once, would not come. Just behind him, the clacking sound of Natalia's heels approached. "Syestra..."
"I killed him, Vanya!" she cried, voice muffled by the fabric. "It's been so long since I killed anyone, but never- never another one of us!"
Her brother hushed her before she could start babbling, returning the hug. A bit difficult due the the prominence of her chest, but still possible thanks to Russia's longer arms. "It's alright, it is something you get used to eventually. It will stop hurting." Clouds gathered on the horizon, and Natalia came up behind her sister, hugging her from the other side, the three of them holding her on the rooftop. "It all stops hurting when you let it go numb."
-----
The sky was not clear in Washington. The rain was a steady torrent of grey, washing the land of colour and rather fitting Alfred's mood. The bench he sat on had a plaque on it, dedicated to some war hero. He couldn't find it within himself to care. He couldn't find the energy to do much right now. Even with 52 states and people all over the country sewing another two stars onto his flag, he couldn't feel even the slightest spark of... of anger, of sadness, of anything. There was a giant hole in his chest, and while it ached around the edges, all that came from within was a cold, bitter nothingness.
There was no grave for his brother. When a Nation died, their body vanished like it had never been. Only history recorded their existence.
He barely registered the umbrella being held over his head, María's plaits undone and her clothes similarly soaked. She opened her mouth to say something a few times, each time aborting before she'd even drawn in the breath. Cars passed, splashing water onto their shoes.
"America." the southern Nation finally said. "The war continues on."
One of the cars, a slick black government vehicle, stopped in front of them, the window rolling down to show Brazil, eyes solemn and lips down-turned. Wordlessly, America stood, stepping out from under Mexico's umbrella and into the back of the car. His sister followed.
"An eye for an eye, Russia." America finally murmured. "An eye for an eye."
Notes:
- Translation of France's line. "My little one, my darling. God, why? My son!"
- Somehow, this chapter makes me feel worse.
Part 48
Characters (in this chapter): England, Wales, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland, France, New Zealand, Australia, Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, America, Mexico, Brazil.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Early chapter due to me going to the con over the weekend and not being able to post then. Hope the large amounts of angst in this one will tide you over.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Walking up through the ruined streets of Liverpool, Darren felt a chill pass over him that had little to do with the wind. Ahead of him, Arthur stopped, dropping his gun.
Neither of them said a word.
Bile rose in Darren's throat, but Arthur was the first to retch his lunch into the bushes.
-----
Aine screamed until all the windows in a three mile radius shattered into a million diamond fragments, and then kept going.
Elsewhere, Éibhear joined her in mournful harmony.
-----
James didn't understand why Francis was crying. He'd checked him for injuries, he'd asked him again and again, but the man wouldn't stop sobbing, couldn't control his tongue to speak in anything but anguished French. The northern Nation hadn't been able to speak that language since... there was a fog in the way of the rest, but it still boiled down to the fact that he was keeping the gun away from his lover's hands for reasons he couldn't comprehend.
"Mon petit, mon chéri," the Frenchman moaned, rocking back and forth. "Dieu, pourquoi? Mon fils!"
Confused, the Scot merely held his partner, stroking his hair in a way he hoped was comforting. Why there was an echo in his mind of this unknown sadness, he didn't know. Instead, he let the fog pull him deeper, until even the echo vanished into nothing.
-----
"Aussie?" Katherine called, iPod headphone in one ear with an audio book playing. She searched the house, unsure as to why the feeling of dread she'd been managing to suppress better lately had returned full force. Falklands had suddenly run off outside to make a phone call, leaving her alone. "Oz?" Eventually she stumbled upon him in the office, and a little relief dampened the feeling of creeping terror. "There you are..." but oddly, her brother was staring at the screen-saver on his computer. There were a few seconds of delay before he blinked, looking at her.
"Kiwi..." his voice sounded hoarse, his eyes red. "... Mattie, he..."
Oddly, there was no moment of delayed recognition, which was possibly more frightening and unusual than anything her nightmares could conjure up. The moment of realisation was horror enough.
-----
'The edge of this building is awfully high,' thought Katyusha, staring down at the courtyard of the Slavic NWO headquarters. 'The sky is very clear too.' Perhaps she could fly off into it, to heaven...
Once they saw the blood on her hands, they would send her straight to hell. And they wouldn't want such an awful person either, and they'd send her back here. Was there any point?
Oh, Matvey...
"Syestra."
She turned around so fast she nearly fell, but large hands steadied her. "Vanya, you're up!" she uttered, surprised. Her little brother looked her over worriedly.
"... shouldn't stand so close to the edge, da?" he pulled her closer, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his long coat. Her breath hitched, but her tears, for once, would not come. Just behind him, the clacking sound of Natalia's heels approached. "Syestra..."
"I killed him, Vanya!" she cried, voice muffled by the fabric. "It's been so long since I killed anyone, but never- never another one of us!"
Her brother hushed her before she could start babbling, returning the hug. A bit difficult due the the prominence of her chest, but still possible thanks to Russia's longer arms. "It's alright, it is something you get used to eventually. It will stop hurting." Clouds gathered on the horizon, and Natalia came up behind her sister, hugging her from the other side, the three of them holding her on the rooftop. "It all stops hurting when you let it go numb."
-----
The sky was not clear in Washington. The rain was a steady torrent of grey, washing the land of colour and rather fitting Alfred's mood. The bench he sat on had a plaque on it, dedicated to some war hero. He couldn't find it within himself to care. He couldn't find the energy to do much right now. Even with 52 states and people all over the country sewing another two stars onto his flag, he couldn't feel even the slightest spark of... of anger, of sadness, of anything. There was a giant hole in his chest, and while it ached around the edges, all that came from within was a cold, bitter nothingness.
There was no grave for his brother. When a Nation died, their body vanished like it had never been. Only history recorded their existence.
He barely registered the umbrella being held over his head, María's plaits undone and her clothes similarly soaked. She opened her mouth to say something a few times, each time aborting before she'd even drawn in the breath. Cars passed, splashing water onto their shoes.
"America." the southern Nation finally said. "The war continues on."
One of the cars, a slick black government vehicle, stopped in front of them, the window rolling down to show Brazil, eyes solemn and lips down-turned. Wordlessly, America stood, stepping out from under Mexico's umbrella and into the back of the car. His sister followed.
"An eye for an eye, Russia." America finally murmured. "An eye for an eye."
Notes:
- Translation of France's line. "My little one, my darling. God, why? My son!"
- Somehow, this chapter makes me feel worse.
Part 48
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-05-28 03:12 pm (UTC)Good, because you're getting them anyway. And they're big and radioactive.
no subject
Date: 2010-05-28 03:20 pm (UTC)I wuv you. Sob, this should not make me happy and in RL it's terrible and horrifying and makes me disgusted with humanity but but but if it's fiction it's okay. ;o;
Also, I think I comment to you OOCly more with this journal than I comment to other people with it ICly. One day I will not be too lazy to log out, I promise.