snowblindrpg | [log] I'll bury you good and straight and right [closed]

[America almost opens the door, that's the worst thing. It's nearly lockdown and he wouldn't want to watch anyone locked out, while it's early for new people to show up it's not that early--there's a lot of excuses, but it's really just because he sees Canada. It's Canada's violet eyes and Canada's wavy blond hair and even Canada's glasses, and there isn't consideration beyond that. The door is opened, a little, and then the gloom shifts and America can see how thin he looks, how grey his skin is, the way his lips are bloody and pulled back.

But even then he might have gone to see what was wrong with him, had it not been for the antlers, bloody with shedding velvet, weighing down his head. America slams the door only half a breath before the door frame rattles with the force of the thing on the other side trying to get in.]

Oh my god. [And for once America can't think of anything else to say.]

[England, of course, is busy being responsible. He's checking over the supplies and rations they picked up today, folding and rolling everything just so that it fits in his rucksack like a perfect little puzzle. He's not paying any mind to the blue eyes that watch him through the bedroom window, leering, painfully familiar in the worst way. He just catches wind of the commotion as America fusses with the door and something tries to get in.

He reacts quickly, at least, standing so that he can rush over and add his own weight to keeping the door closed. Of course, he didn't see what the monster looked like, and now his energy is running high, so he has to do a bit of shouting.] What the hell was that for, why did you try to open the door?!

It was Canada. [But, no, that's wrong, that's not Canada, so he amends it in the same breath.] It looks like Canada. There's a monster, and out the window, I thought--I thought it was Canada, but it's not.

[America's voice dances precariously between muted nervousness and the beginnings of hysteria. His emotions don't seem to know what to do with themselves.]

What? No. [England rejects that possibility immediately, especially when he can feel the monster's efforts to get to them through the door.] No, he's not here. He would have told us if he were.

[He sounds very confident about that, but that might make it even more obvious that he's trying to convince himself.]

Yeah, yeah, it can't really be him. It's just a monster that looks like him. [The door shakes again, and if America were even an ounce weaker he's sure the force of it would push him back, too. But even if he's weaker here, he's got plenty of strength available.] He's--it's got antlers, and, and it's too skinny, so--so it's not him. Just. The face.

[Some parts of the face, anyway.]

[At least England is there to offer his strength, even if it isn't quite as much as America's. He presses his heels down against the floor when he feels the door shake again, and gives a disgusted response.] Ugh. At least lockdown is soon.

[And then, something out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. He lifts his head to see the face pressed against the window — the face and the tendrils, slithering along the smooth surface of the glass, and that must have been what caught his eye. But he can't tear his gaze away from the face.

The colour drains from England's skin as he watches France's face, France's mouth, open up wide to reveal rows upon rows of too many razor sharp teeth.]

[America follows England's gaze, and even without anywhere near the level of history England and France have, watching France's mouth open up like that is still really horrifying.] Holy shit. [Why is this happening now?]

["Holy shit" is a fairly accurate summary of what England is feeling, but his mouth feels like it's filled with cotton, his jaw clenched shut as he watches the monster with France's face claw silently at the window. He only moves again because of the actions of the first monster, digging his heels in further against the vibrations of the door and searching blindly with his hand until it curls around a clump of America's sleeve.]

Holy shit, why is-- [Feeling England's hand at his sleeve stops his voice up, though, and he tears his eyes away from the window to look at England instead.] It's just this place screwing with us. It's not--the monsters're just monsters. [America can't stop the tremor in his voice and the look on his face, but any other option besides believing that is too awful.]

I know. [Again, he sounds desperately like he's trying to convince himself; he realises after a moment that he's holding onto America's jacket and has the presence of mind to let go like he's been burnt.] I know, they're not— they're just monsters.

[He swallows a thick knot that goes down like sandpaper. He still can't stop watching the creature that looks like France.] ...Just anomalies.

This really isn't fixing them at all. [That's always what he's taken the administrator's announcements of adjustments to be attempts at, anyway. On the other hand, maybe they're like an evil mad scientist and this is the whole point. Either way, the people in charge must have done this on purpose, right? You can't just accidentally get things that look like Canada and France chasing after them.] Lockdown has to be soon, right?! [Again America is edging into hysteric territory. He wants to get away from the door.]

[America is losing it, which is what makes England realise that he needs to pull it together. Whatever is outside, it's not France (even though England can't help but think of those messages that appeared on the network, those anonymous people that @ADMIN terminated...)

It's not France, and it's not Canada. So England needs to get a grip and help America so they can focus on making sure the damn things don't get inside. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and tries to breathe out the tremor of fear deep in the pit of his stomach. While his voice still isn't completely level, it's more focused than previously.] ...It's soon. Just help me hold the door until then.

We've done this before. It's no different just because they look like people we know.

[He's really on a roll with this whole "convincing himself" thing tonight.]

R-right. I can hold the door. [He falls to focusing only on the task. Holding a door shut is simple. He can do that. He just has to not think about what's on the other side of the door and not look at the window. Just keep the door shut. He repeats that like a mantra in his mind and worries at his lower lip while he does so, chewing until he tastes blood.

But finally he hears the click of the locks sealing them in for the night.]

[It feels like they're holding the damn thing back forever, particularly since England can't keep his eyes from drifting to the France-monster at the window. He resists the urge to grab for America again; it would be embarrassing if it looked like he needed reassurance, particularly when they've got eyes on them.

When the door finally locks, England's shoulders slump a bit in relief, but he doesn't move away from the door. Even after all this time, he still doesn't trust that they won't be able to burst in immediately.]

[America, meanwhile, darts away from the door as if it were on fire. It's not that he trusts the doors will hold any more than he usually does so much as him wanting to get as far away from the not Canada thing as possible. He almost heads into the bathroom, but shuffles to an uncertain stop before he gets there. He feels odd leaving England there in this situation, even if he wouldn't actually be going that far.]

They'll go away before morning. [Monsters always do that.]

[Will they? Even if they disappear overnight, England is certain they'll be present in his nightmares for a long time.

But that's very metaphorical, and England doesn't have the energy for a metaphorical conversation with America right now. He just gives another shaky sigh and lifts a hand to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. Closing his eyes gives him a welcome reprieve from the unavoidable sight of the window.] Right. Of course.

Just— you can never be too cautious.

Yeah, I mean-- [And then the Canada-monster throws itself against the bathroom window behind America, making him yelp and stumble back away from the bathroom door, trip over the corner of the bed, and land on the ground. He catches himself before his face hits floor, but it's an instinctual movement. The force of the moose-like antlers against the window is enough to rattle the whole side of the house, but the window holds.]

[England isn't the easily frightened type, but he still nearly jumps out of his skin as the Canada-monster charges the house; he even draws the knife from his tool belt out of reflex, though he knows that fighting the creatures is impossible.

He moves away from the bedroom door so that he can see the bathroom window, his breathing quick with alarm. Despite the force with which it hit the house, the window still seems to be intact.]

[America, once he rolls over, can't help but stare at the monster as it tries to force its way through the window. The face is still familiar, even with dead skin and bloody lips and fangs where normal teeth should be. It looks like Canada when he's really mad, Canada when America's done something maybe a tiny bit stupid and Canada's really letting him have it. His stomach slides around sickeningly, but he can't stop staring.]

[Once England's shock subsides enough, he can finally get a look at the other monster's face. And it does look like Canada; England won't admit it out loud, but he can see why America took pause.

Seeing that it still can't get inside, though, England scoffs out a noise of disapproval and stomps over to the bathroom to close that door.] Bloody nuisance.

[Pretending (badly) not to be shaken by the appearance of the Canada-monster, England looks down at America, a concerned furrow in his brow.] Are you all right?

[There's an obvious pause where America's eyes remain locked on the monster before he can tear them away, look at England, and lie badly.] Yeah, I'm fine.

[When England closes the door, it's really more like he slams it. America won't be able to see the monster for long, at least.]

Hmph. [That done, he gives the door a baleful look before he steps back. Only then is he satisfied enough to approach America and offer him a hand to help him up.]

[With the door to the bathroom closed, it's quiet, as if nothing was outside at all. He reaches to take England's hand and get himself up off the floor, glancing over at the closed bathroom door but trying to push the memories out of his mind.] We just have to wait it out.

[Despite himself, as he pulls America up, England's gaze slides over to the window where the France-monster had previously taken up space. But it's not there now. He suspects it will be at the bedroom door soon, then.

Perhaps his hand lingers a bit too long against America's, but he pulls it back without drawing too much attention to the action and then makes sure his knife is safely back in his tool belt.] ...Indeed. It would be wise to focus on something else until we can get some rest.

We can search the--uh, rooms. [It hardly qualifies as a house, to be honest. Not to mention the matter of searching the bathroom with the monster right outside the window. Okay, so maybe it's more searching this one room.]

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