#attrocitea

[text: Arthur]: Yes, I am fine.

[text: Arthur]: What would give you the impression I am not fine?

  A sneak attack. 

  Expected as it was, he still managed to only catch a hint of green before he was knocked unconscious. He couldn’t criticize his attacker or anything, not in the slightest; after all, he had managed to escape situations with a clean hit before too. 

  That didn’t make the iron taste in his mouth any weaker.

  With a grunt, Feliciano shifted. There was an attempt to sit himself up, though with his hands tied and the pain radiating from his ribs, he figured it was futile.

  When the door opened, he couldn’t even bring himself to look up, simply keeping his attention on Arthur’s boots. A small smile came onto his face as if to push his own fear back, a strategy that failed as soon as fear crept into his tone.

[ text: Francis ] Well, were you ever? You tell me. [ text: Francis ] Don’t come home if you’re going to bring all this melodrama with you.

[text: Arthur] i dontt know

[text: Arthur] you never answered m e

[ text: Gilbert ] Maybe there really is an end to everything, after all. Both the good & the bad.

[text] wtf r u smoking ?

[Closed RP with @attrocitea!]

Instead of the shrill, yet familiar, ringing of his alarm, it was the cold that tugged England from sleep. A groan slipped passed his lips and he shuffled onto his side as awareness came back to him in long, gradual waves; the brush of his own clothing against his skin, the floor cutting into his cheek, the echo of dripping water bouncing off the walls...

Wait. His eyes snapped open and were met with surroundings completely unknown to him. A room of rough concrete and jagged, steel pipes, coated with mottled patches of rust. It was the farthest place from his cozy London flat that he could imagine. The Englishman struggled to sit up, panic jerking him into wakefulness, only for his back to meet a wall he must have slept beside all night. His gaze settled in front of him and he froze. The middle of the room dropped away into a trough filled with clear, shallow rainwater. His attentions, though, were drawn to the limp form of a body; legs resting within the edge of the water down below.

“Hello?” The words erupted from him almost thoughtlessly; conflicted between investigating further and taking a moment to doubt the existence of the situation entirely. When the man refused to answer him, England shoved such thoughts to the back of his mind and inched down the steep incline. The closer he crept down the concrete slope, the harder his heart pounded against his chest, and the more the features of the man’s face became clear. His hold fumbled and he slid; his feet meeting ice-cold water, but it wasn’t something he was concerned with. Not at the moment.

She folded her hands in her lap and cast her eyes down to the ground, unable to refute his claim. Hadn’t that been part of the reason, after the devastation of the Great War when she was greatly depleted, to leave her long standing relationship with Austria and form a new union with the eternally neutral Switzerland?

Safe within this union, she was able to watch the squabbling of the other nations from afar, without the fear of getting directly involved, and it allowed her to keep an emotional distance as well, not letting herself get too invested in their struggles.

YELP.COM

LOOKS

“He somehow ruins being pale and skinny. That is an extremely hard thing to ruin. Instead, he is pasty and like a stick. A bad stick. A stick that broke your window.”

PERSONALITY 

In a high, nasally voice: “’ello, I’m Arthur. I ruin things for other people because no one ever loved me. Nothing was good for me, so it shouldn’t be good for other people, either. That’s the way the world works. I would know because I am the center of it, which means I’m covered in boils and spew garbage out of my mouth.”

WHO ARE THEY?