#leftbehindwords

Since personifications were formed through the unification of people and the creation of communities with shared cultures, every aspect of their personality is representative of something from their people. It may be their physical appearance, their sense of fashion. It may be the way they handle unexpected situations. It may also be something less tangible, such as ideals and religious beliefs.

All the same, due to this, the personifications will not necessarily be amenable to the actions that their government takes. Some governments are more representative of their people's will than others; as such, some personifications are in better standing with their government than others. The more in tune a government is with the general public, the more similar they are with their personification, and the less disagreements there are between the two.

This is not to say that the personifications only take after most of their population, of course. Personifications are also highly affected by their upbringing, whether reared by humans, by one of their kind, or both. Upbringing may result in a personification holding beliefs contrary to their people's, or holding beliefs that do not belong to the majority. But there will always be a connection between a personfication and their people's culture, whether or not anyone realises the origins of certain characteristics.

In cases where a nation is divided - split into two different sides regarding a single matter, such as civil wars, referendums, elections, or anything else - their personication is always, always, in great pain. A divided nation is a vulnerable one, and a vulnerable nation results in an unhealthy personification.

All of these is why nation personifications oftentimes aren't treated as well as might be expected. One common characteristic among them is their uncompromising nature. There is no else who can exert the will of their people upon their government more than them, and it is a severe dereliction of their duty as the human personifications of everything that constitutes their nations to neglect doing so. Such characteristic may be tamed, but not by the personifications themselves. It goes against their very nature to do so - to restrain themselves from fulfilling, or at least attempting to fulfill, their people's desires. But their governments?

Their governments can and have done so.

When a government has had enough of their personification's unruliness and incompliance with orders, they might look for a way to make said personification do so, rather than find common ground between them and compromise. The government would do everything in their power to make the personification bend their knee, whether by force or by persuasion. A personification may be broken by such an ordeal, especially if the former method is applied. They will lose touch with their people, unconsciously detaching themselves from their connection, though never fully breaking the link.

Sometimes, instead of succumbing to their government's control, a personification may grow even more tenacious in their resolutions. And when a government has tried and failed to subdue said personification, they may eventually resort to the highest order of punishment possible.

Exile.

The very essence of nation personifications entails a physical, mental, and emotional connection to the nation they personify. Their territory's destruction is the destruction of their soul, the agony of their people is their own, and every major loss resonates deep within their very being. Losing that physical connection with their territory will absolutely destroy a personification. It will not kill them - not for centuries on end, at least - but it is one of the greatest sufferings that a personification may endure, right alongside mass slaughter of their people. So in the end, when a personification pushes their government too far, they often end up capitulating instead.

There are other situations, of course, in which a personification may manage to 'win' against their government. A personification will not be so recalcitrant if there is no specific reason for them to be so, and as such, having the backing of their people is essential for a personification.

Yes, a personification represents the people's beliefs, the people's values, the people's desires and needs. Even then, the people of a nation do not always speak up against their government. They do not always express their wishes. But when the personification is in accordance with their people, when they both strive towards the same goal, they are may be able to bring about whichever change they wish for.

An example would be being on the verge of an important decision in the government, wherein the people want something that the government seems reluctant to give. In that scenario, the personification will be on their people's side (unless, of course, they're already under their government's control), and it would be cause for tension between the personification and their government if the difference in their wants is too big to be negotiated. If the people's voices grow louder and more demanding, pressuring their government, and the government ends up surrendering to what the people want, then it may be said that the personification has won, for their people's victory is theirs too.  Revolutions wherein the people are rebelling against the government may be another example of this.

This is why sometimes, a government may attempt to subdue a personification before they've even done anything untoward, knowing that the personification would be sympathetic to the masses. The government will believe that because the personification is not in favour of their decisions, they may betray the government and spill important information to the people, in order to further their cause.

Nation personifications are not always safe with their government. It always depends on how adept a personification is in dealing with their government. Different personifications deal with their respective governments differently - it is one of the major things that set them apart. Barring cultural, topographic, and other differences between nations, the personifications are all different in how they handle their governments. A government may be going directly against their people's wishes, but their personification is in good standing with them. A government may be in direct accord with their people, but they are in conflict with their personification.

Older personifications are wiser about such matters. Along the centuries, they've accumulated experience in dealing with various governments. They will know how to appear unaffected, even if their government is in shambles, without giving any hint as to what thoughts and emotions lie underneath their facades. It's a lesson learned the hard way, after experiencing the pain of exile. They will also know how to best deal with civil unrest, after having suffered through the pain of perhaps a civil war or two, and being intimately familiar with the pain of feeling split in half for months or years on end.

To simplify:

1.) While personifications may develop personal values and desires through interaction with fellow personifications, the foundation of their being always lies within the nation they personify, and that they change alongside the ever-shifting nature of humans.

Bonus if Australia and New Zealand suddenly drop by their place halfway through and join the session.

Back when they first went in, the unnatural silence should have alerted them to the fact that there was something wrong with the place. Yet none of them had paid it any heed and continued forward, unmindful of anything strange or out of place.

Why would they have? They're nations, and as far as they're concerned, measly little human concerns are insignificant to them. They could sort out the paperwork to clean their records if they're trespassing. If they end up catching ill, nothing will become of it; even if they die, they'll always come back. They had nothing to lose, and their curiosity to sate. They were careless. 

Now they're paying the price for it.

England is alone in the second floor, having been split up with the others a long time ago. Days, perhaps, he does not know. What he does know is the all-consuming lethargy weighing his body down, and that if he does not get some rest soon, he will surely be unable to maintain his focus for much longer. 

He can count on his hands the number of hours he's slept in the past week, and whilst it normally wouldn't matter, given how they nations require much less sleep than humans do, England has been on high alert all this time and it's taken a toll on both his body and his nerves. His head is pounding, his back is as stiff as a board, and his feet are sore from having been on them for so long.

Still, despite the need to lie down in some dark and secluded corner of the mansion, England knows that he cannot afford to do so until he's found at least one of the other nations. There is safety in numbers, especially with how none of them are capable of fighting off the Thing on their own, and considering how tired England is, if he ever gets discovered by the thing while sound asleep, there is no guarantee that he'll be able to wake up in time and escape to safety. So here he is, going around the whole mansion to look for anyone he can find.

That is, if there's anyone still around to be found, he thinks.

England may not be certain of how long it's been since he's seen any of the others, but he knows for a fact that it's been a month since they entered the mansion. They've been here longer than most loops that he can remember, and he has no cause to believe that they should be be faring any better this time around. It's been a standard loop so far, and it seems as though it'll end much the same way as the others had - with almost everyone dead, and one nation with the journal going back in time to do things over in hopes of a better end. 

At this point, England holds no hope of seeing anyone else alive. But he continues searching, for he is unwilling to give up without having seen with his very own eyes proof that this loop is a lost cause.

Against his control, his eyes flutter shut on their own, too weary to keep them open for much longer. England tries forcing them open, knowing that he can't stay out here in the hallway where he can easily be found and attacked, and that he has to move somewhere at least relatively secure. But his efforts are for naught as his eyes close after not even five seconds of keeping them open, and no matter how much he tries, England can't get his body to move the way he wants it to. His body, which is leaning against the wall, is slowly sliding down, and he eventually ends up in a sitting position on the floor. 

He gives up and tells himself that he'll just rest his eyes for a bit, try to regain a small amount of energy, at least enough to move himself somewhere else afterwards.

After an indeterminate period of time, England's eyes open to the sight of sunlight filtering in through the windows, the first rays of the morning sun caressing his skin and offering a small measure of warmth. The sunlight illuminates the hallway, casting a soft orange glow over the dark floorboards and ivory walls. It lifts the eeriness of the place, even just for a bit, and he finds himself relaxing without conscious thought. Despite the situation at hand, England takes solace in the fact that it seems he lives to see yet another sunrise.

The serenity does not last long, however, for in the midst of the silence, a muted noise comes from underneath England's feet. A single thump against the hardwood floors, followed by another stronger one, and then the whistling of steel cutting across the air. He bolts to his feet, all feelings of relaxation sweeping from his body in an instant.

They're downstairs. 

Relief floods England to his core, loath he may be to admit it. Nevertheless, he breaks out into a sprint, fully intent on providing the other nations all aid he is able to.

Wales has always found the winters up north colder than the winters back home. This year, however, he'd say that the weather is more than just colder - it's positively freezing. He's never wanted to go here during winter if he could help it. But Scotland had asked him and Northern Ireland, inasmuch as he ever asks anyone to do anything, to come to his place without giving an explanation as to why. And no matter how much Wales disliked the idea, it had been better to just agree and let it be.

When he shivers under his coat, standing outside a quaint little cafe that he and Northern Ireland had agreed to meet at, he can almost hear Scotland saying "Soft southerners, the lot of you," in that very same dismissive tone he's always used. It makes Wales smile just a little, because despite his brother's steadfast refusal to acknowledge it, Wales still remembers how Scotland had always been so watchful of him and England during their younger years, taking care to make sure they were warm enough every winter. 

Of course, it was never without loud complaints and being insulted about their susceptibility to the cold. Scotland has always hated showing vulnerability - much like England in that aspect, despite their vehement insistence that the two of them are nothing alike - and it wouldn't have done for him to show any signs of true worry at the thought of his younger brothers catching ill. But Scotland's actions have always spoken louder than his words, even until now, and Wales has always known this, that despite what words his brother may speak, they will never be of any consequence if his actions say otherwise. 

The reminder of their childhood brings bittersweet feelings. On one hand, Wales misses the days when they could simply spend their days together - no obligations to a king, no serious responsibilities to take care of. But on the other hand, it brings to his mind certain matters he'd rather not have to think about.

Back in those miserable years following their mother's death, Scotland had grown colder to them. He was harsher. Less tolerant of whatever it was he disliked. He acted all alone, like he cared none of what was to become of his younger brothers. He acted like it, and the two of them - England and Wales, they had believed it. 

Hindsight has made things clearer to Wales, however, and he now knows the truth of what happened back then. Scotland had tried his hardest to push the both of them away, not wanting to face the pain of another loss anytime soon. But he hadn't been able to fully stomach the thought of actually leaving his little brothers behind, and as such, the three of them were stuck in constantly oscillating levels of tension and hurt.

England, however, Wales thinks morosely, seems as though he hasn't exactly caught on to this. Over the past centuries, England and Scotland have always been at each other's throats, whatever be it while in a personal or professional setting. Of the countless offences the two have always used as justification for their petty quarrels, there's one 'offence' that has stuck in Wales' mind ever since he first heard it.

"- act like it matters to you what I -- Do you take me for a fool -- I haven't forgotten how -"

"Cymru?"

Wales startles from his thoughts, and when he looks up, Northern Ireland is staring at him in slight confusion. Wales blinks in surprise. He hadn't realised that it was already time for their meet up, too caught up in his mind as he was, so he hastily checks the time on his watch - 09:32 - and asks sheepishly, "Have you been here for long? I was just about to go in."

"No," Northern Ireland says, "I've just arrived, actually."

He pauses.

"You seemed pretty out if it when I was calling your name, though," Northern Ireland adds slowly, giving Wales a queer look. "Everything all right?"

Wales smiles faintly, "Everything's fine, North. Don't worry about me. In any case, would you like to go in to have a drink before we head to Scotland's?"

Northern Ireland acquiesces, and the two of them enter the cafe. It's warm inside, a sweet reprieve from the unforgiving cold of winter. But Wales remembers -

"I haven't forgotten how you damn near abandoned us after mother's death, and I never will."

 - and despite the warmth, he feels cold. There are matters that Wales would rather not have to think about again, but this one - this one is something that needs to be resolved soon.

And the others that can’t sense, and why… And the others that sense but “ignore it”, and why?

Does the magic have that much influence? Or there are other way of sense it?

… How would you describe the end of the world? … I meant like, a time question. It will happen soon or will be something that is far away but can’t be avoided. There are a lots of ways of ser the “end of the world” so I think that its important also know what perspective are you talking.

Sorry if my questions are kinda dumb, but I like to understand things deeply 😉 

– @hetaween​ in response to this

All the nation personifications are able to sense the end of the world. At least, that’s what they think it is. But the only personifications who know what they’re sensing actually entails are, yes, the ones who are attuned to magic. These personifications know that the “end of the world” isn’t really so, meaning that they’re aware, or at least have an inkling, of what is actually going to happen (which is much worse).

The personifications who ignore what every other of their kind considers the end of the world are just in denial, because they can’t accept that it’s actually going to happen. They can sense it, just like everyone else, and they should realise that it’s really going to happen, but they’ve let their emotions get the best of them. It’s like a person with, say, a terminal illness who won’t accept that they’re about to die. The hopelessness is overwhelming. The only way they feel like they can reclaim power over the situation is to deny that it’s real. And for these personifications, who have lived for centuries or perhaps even millennia, the thought that the world they’ve been inhabiting for all their life is about to disappear is nothing short of terrifying. 

As for the rest of your questions – they cover topics that are supposed to be up for interpretation, aka the answers should depend on the person using the idea. But if you wish to hear what my answers are, here you go. 

Magic has a lot of influence in this scenario. It doesn’t affect whether or not a personification can feel that something is wrong, which is why every personification (aside from the ones that are attuned to magic) believes that the end of the world is nigh. It does, however, allow the ones that can harness it to know more about what is happening. If what the other personifications have is only the knowledge that the world is about to end, what these few personifications have is the knowledge of what will bring it.

It’s a bit of a spoiler, I’d say, but seeing as I’m not particularly inclined to write more for this, I suppose it’s fine. 

The answer to what the end of the world actually entails is reliant on which personifications we’re talking about. Going by what almost all of them can sense, it’s just the certainty that after a period of time – within the next half century or so – they’ll no longer have anything to personify. Their people, their lands – all of that gone. 

Seeing as I left the drabble vague and open-ended, I understand why you have these questions. Although do keep in mind that I did so intentionally, meaning that the unanswered questions are part of the mystery. The way I wrote it was as if it’s a summary, after all. I hope I’ve managed to sufficiently answer your questions ^^

The creature is short and squat, its face squished and its nose long and crooked. Its body is no bigger than the palm of Northern Ireland's hand, and it's going around him in circles, as though trying to catch his attention. The flutter of its wings is loud in the silence of the room.

He ignores it, as he is wont to do. He has no interest in dealing with it; never has, never will. 

Eventually, the thing stops in place, hovering somewhere in the vicinity of Northern Ireland's shoulder. It seems to have noticed the direction of his gaze, which is determinedly fixed upon the book in his hands. Without warning, the creature dives down, plopping itself on top of the book and right in front of his sight. 

Northern Ireland recoils and, without thinking of it, shuts the book with as much force as possible, squishing the creature inside. The thing is hideous, and his reaction to it is as instinctive as trying to swat a fly away from his face.

After a beat, he realises what he's done. Cold horror washes over him.

"Fuck," he says. "England is going to kill me." 

The book is a gift from England, for lack of a better term. Northern Ireland has never held an interest in reading, but his older brother would every so often throw a couple books in his lap and tell him to read them, a satisfied look settled upon on his face. As such, Northern Ireland would have to spend several hours better spent doing something else with reading at least half of the books, so that he would be able to keep up with the conversation England will eventually draw him into. He has learned his lesson already, and he isn't inclined to spend the better part of an hour pretending to understand anything coming out of his older brother's mouth about character so-and-so and his relationship with character so-and-so or what have you. 

Scotland always tells England off about it, saying that Northern Ireland shouldn't have to be "forced into reading books he obviously can't give a rat's arse about". England would huffily reply that Scotland should "mind his own business" and that "North obviously doesn't mind them, because he always partakes in our conversations with wholehearted interest". Which, frankly, is nothing but a bold-faced lie. 

Still, on that point onward, the conversation will devolve into a heated argument that Wales is bound to have to step into. Northern Ireland will be left completely out of the equation, Scotland and England forgetting what they'd actually been fighting about.

He personally thinks that England must do it, and be so proud whenever he does so, for he thinks that whichever books he'd procured would be the one to finally pique Northern Ireland's interest and get him to start reading on his own. He also thinks that England believes that it might have him start initiating conversations about novels on his own. It's partly the reason why Northern Ireland reads the books, even though he would be loathe to do so otherwise. He knows that his older brother is, well, lonely, and that talking with him about books brings England great joy, even though the older nation would never admit it to anyone.

That's why Northern Ireland is horrified at the sight of the book with the creature that's been bothering him for the past half hour flattened between its pages. The creature is probably dead already, squished as it is, and its insides must be spread all over the inside of the book; he can also see a thick, translucent liquid seeping out from the closed pages, probably the body fluids leaking from the dead creature. There's no way he'll be able to read this book anymore, neither will he be able to keep it. He'll have to throw it - the book that England had given to him - away.

Northern Ireland grimaces, but there's nothing for it now. He stands up, ready to hurl the book to bottom of the nearest bin and cover it with whatever trash around the mansion he can get his hands on so that none of his brothers will see it, but all of a sudden, the bit of wing peeking out of the book flutters frantically. Northern Ireland drops the book in surprise, letting out a surprised squeak. As the book clatters to the ground, it opens to the part where he had crushed the creature in, revealing it in all its disgusting glory.

Because if it was hideous before, it looks positively grotesque now. 

It isn't as bad as he expected, but the creature's appearance has unsettled him from the very beginning, and seeing it squished flat and leaking liquid all over his book makes Northern Ireland nauseous. As it is, he takes a couple of steps away. The thing clearly isn't dead, its body twitching and attempting to peel itself away from the paper, but it might be better off dead than alive in its current state.

Footsteps suddenly come from the hallway, and Northern Ireland starts in surprise. In a moment of horrifying clarity, he realises the situation he's in. Laid out in front of him on the floor, and in direct sight of the door, is proof of his mistake. And he can't let any of his brothers see it, especially England. He then rushes forward to close the book and hide it from sight, but before he's able to do so, Wales enters the room. 

Northern Ireland freezes, both hands extended towards the ruined book on the floor. He's been caught red-handed.

(TBC)

@hetaween

Notes: This is very late, but it got too long so I have to cut it here. I'll post the next part... soon. I've already written something for Day 1, but I ended up disliking it so I might have to rewrite it. Ah, I hope submissions will still be accepted after the event ends.

Note: What was supposed to be a short display of the differences between England and 2p England’s attitudes towards magic turned into a disjointed drabble that contains a small part regarding England’s thoughts on magic alongside a semi-character analysis for 2p England that unexpectedly dipped into angstier spirits than I had planned it to.

Apologies for the lack of structure (and the bad formatting, as I’m posting on mobile). I’d revise this if I had the time, but alas, I do not.

I have plans on possibly reuploading this soon - the general idea will be the same, but with a different structure and better flow.

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All throughout the centuries, one thing has always remained constant. Even before they nation personifications were born into the world, created through the strength of bonds between humans and bound to the land in which those humans resided in, magic has always been in existence. It can be found everywhere in this world - perhaps even others, though not one soul, mortal or otherwise, knows whether there are any - and it is the very essence of all living beings.

Arthur finds it fascinating. He himself is older than every human he’s ever encountered, and none of them know - or are to ever know - about it. In this modern era, the knowledge of their existence is a treasured secret that only a select few have the privilege to hold. Other than fellow personifications, there are perhaps a couple of dozen or so others who know what he is. And so magic, with its everlasting nature, enduring since the beginning of history, older than any personification that still walks upon this world - it takes Arthur’s breath away, to think of everything it has seen, everything it has touched.

Of everything it can and has done.

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There is no question that Oliver Kirkland is an odd man. To his neighbours, at least, he’s a spacehead at best and a nutter at worst. He also seems to have a tendency to set part of his house on fire every once in a while, and show little to no amount of worry about it. Still, Oliver’s neighbours think that, for the most part, he’s not all that bad. He’s always unerringly polite during the few occasions that his neighbours manage to catch a few minutes with him to exchange words, and he often gives them exquisite shepherd’s pie and various other foodstuffs during weekends and the hols.

None of them suspect that anything is amiss with Oliver, aside from how he seems quite disconnected from the rest of the world during the times they catch him unawares, staring into the nothingness with a blank look on his face, and they simply discount it as nothing but one of his quirks. And to Oliver, everything is just the way it should be. He has a decent relationship with his neighbours - is in acceptable standing with them, at least - and he… well, he goes on as is expected of one of his kind. He fulfills his duties to a satisfactory degree, does enough to appease whoever his boss is at the moment, and fills whatever spare time he has with cooking - whether for himself, his neighbours, or less frequently, his brothers. 

Oliver supposes that he lives a rather secluded lifestyle, but it’s the way he enjoys his days so he isn’t particularly inclined towards seeking to change it. There are also the rare occasion - major deviations from his usual routine - wherein Oliver is asked by one of his brothers to help them with something. More often than not, it involves magic in one way or another. Oliver dislikes doing anything that involves magic, and all his brothers are keenly aware of it, yet time and time again, they never cease to conveniently forget mentioning that whatever it is they need his assistance with requires involvement in such. He knows that he can always simply not help them, but he’s far too weak to resist others whenever he knows he’s needed. Wanted. 

And Oliver admits to himself that sometimes, sometimes, he hopes that maybe his brothers will at least make mention if they’ll be needing him to do something related to magic. Because they’re aware that he dislikes doing so, and that they care enough to let him know.

Sustaining that hope is an exercise in futility, however, he is much aware. Oliver’s brothers are far too invested in the study of magic to truly understand why he himself is not. Anyone else might think that perhaps their insistence on involving him in matters relating to magic must be their attempt to make him grow fonder of it, but Oliver knows better than that. His brothers do not care enough for it.

And as much as his brothers do not care about him, Oliver cares not for magic. He believes that it is nothing but a tool to be used whenever one so desires. All the years he’s lived has allowed him to learn how lethal it is, especially when in the wrong hands, and it’s done nothing but to reinforce his distaste of everything even remotely magical in nature. He has used it to hurt, to maim, and to kill - whether under his own volition or under the orders of his king. And so there is nothing in the world that will convince him to further study the magical arts more than he already has.

Such power, Oliver believes, is nothing to be celebrated nor revered. It is to be feared.

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