[log] you had the power to know [closed]

[keepscalm]

Characters: England, America, Ginger, and maybe Charles?
Location: Various (buildings 49, 58, and 130)
Date: Days 153-155
Summary: Getting back together just in time for Valentine's Day, picking up tea, and then getting horrifically monstered.
Warnings: Mentions of character death; will edit for anything else

[49: A normal single-story house with a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and master bedroom. There's also a second bedroom that has been converted to a craft room; the crafts that have survived are dusty and mostly useless, being along the lines of scrapbooks and fabric cork boards. There's an old-fashioned but still working pedal-powered sewing machine here. A snowman has been built outside. "ALPHONSE ELRIC, STEPH BROWN, MAMI TOMOE, FREYA CRESCENT, EDWARD ELRIC, DAY TWENTY-EIGHT, TRAVELLING NORTH." has been carved into one of the walls.]

[58: A simple single-story building, the snow weighs uneasily on it, and it creaks and groans under the strain at the best of times. It's very dark, and only the kitchen and living room are intact. The kitchen has a back door. Two snowmen have been built outside. A message has been written on the wall in blue ink: "Don't wreck the snowmen! That's super mean!" "ALPHONSE ELRIC, MAMI TOMOE, FREYA CRESCENT, GREED, EDWARD ELRIC, STEPHANIE BROWN, DAY FORTY ONE, TRAVELLING EAST." has been carved into one of the walls. The following has been written on the wall in blue pen: "This is Building 95 97 on the composite map. Contact @CaptSteveRogers for details." Underneath this is a fairly accurate map showing the house in relation to the school and buildings 29, 35, 35, 37, 40, 41, 47, 48, 50, 53. House 34 is labeled "Medical assistance; hot, clean water. Contact Dr. Epps @claytonator". The school is labeled "School. Food available in cafeteria; DO NOT STAY HERE OVERNIGHT." The shed is labeled "Shed".]

[130: A decently-sized pharmacy. It must have once also had a small section for food, but the shelves are empty now. Sometimes medicine can be found here. Four of the floorboards have been pulled up in a corner of the pharmacy, revealing metal beneath. The following is drawn on the wall in blue ink: "This is Building 111 on the composite map. Medication sometimes available here. Contact @CaptSteveRogers for details." Underneath this is a fairly accurate map showing the pharmacy in relation to the hospital and buildings 58, 125, and 126. The hospital is labeled "Hospital; hospital morgue is UNSAFE, DO NOT STAY THERE OVERNIGHT." Building 58 is labeled "Ice tunnel north entrance." Near 126 he draws an arrow pointed southeast, labeled "This way to downtown area."]

Comments

[keepscalm]

[Even just the idea of America reciting poetry is enough to embarrass England. He purses his lips and tries to ignore the burning blush of his own face. In the interest of perhaps being less pathetic, he grumbles something a bit closer to normal.] Silly git. You'd better mean it.

[fifty]

Would I lie to you? [Maybe a dumb question, being nations, but America would never lie to England about something like this, which is what he means.]

[keepscalm]

[England, being a liar himself, doesn't really know how to handle this question. Certainly, America isn't quite as dishonest of a person as England, but he still has his duplicitous tendencies. And England wouldn't be having so much trouble if he didn't expect everyone to lie.

Achingly aware of his missing sense again, England's gaze falls.] Well, I hope not.

[fifty]

[America frowns a little bit and runs his fingers through England's hair.] I mean I'm not lying.

[keepscalm]

That would be a rather cruel thing to lie about. [And usually America is not the type for cruelty of that sort. England has enough sense to know that.]

[fifty]

Yeah! [It super would be.] So I'm not, so don't worry!

[keepscalm]

[England lets out a sigh that he didn't realise he was holding in.] I don't think you're lying. Just...

[How to say it? England lifts a shoulder in half a shrug.] ...it feels too good to be true, and all that rubbish.

[It's trite, but he doesn't have any more poetry in him for the time being.]

[fifty]

[America doesn't usually think too much about it, since this sort of doubt is normal of England, but this is a reminder he really hates it when England talks like that, or thinks like that, or--believes that about things that happen to him. He hugs England more resolutely, maybe a little too tight.] I'm right here, and so are you. So, like... It's good and it's true at the same time. Or whatever.

[keepscalm]

[It's not exactly a gentle embrace, but England welcomes it and leans into it all the same, grasping for the comfort it offers.] Yeah.

[And then another laugh, dry and tired.] Sorry. I was supposed to be seducing you.

[fifty]

I'm just glad you're back. [America's voice is muffled against England, which is probably why he can say that so directly.]

[keepscalm]

[England strokes his hand over America's back up and down, soothing and slow.] So am I.

[He's at peace with the idea of dying someday, but not here. Not like this. Go figure.

After a pause, England makes an addendum for context, trying to distance himself from the sadness of the fact.] It's not back yet.

[fifty]

{It's easy to relax with England's hand moving like that on his back. His grip becomes less painful.] It'll come back. It'll definitely come back.

[keepscalm]

I know. [They've never heard of someone losing something permanently. Still, being without it at all is torture.] Bit hard to feel like yourself when it's gone.

[Granted, England isn't great at dealing with emotions on his best days, but the stress of missing such a vital part of himself isn't making it any easier.]

[fifty]

[America has no idea what it must feel like. The closest he can imagine is those times he's lost limbs, in the moments before he's reattached it or a new one has started growing. A lack of something that should be there--and yet when they're talking about something like this, it's more like a lack of a part of your soul, isn't it?] You're still England.

[keepscalm]

[Is he, though? He's not immortal any more. He has no communication with his country. He's lost the last thing that truly ties him to his land.

But that's very philosophical, and he doesn't want to think too hard about who might be right or wrong in this argument. He's wasted plenty of his nights on this identity crisis already.] I suppose so.

[fifty]

You're England. ...And I'm America. [He says the last bit more thoughtfully. It's not something that he's ever really thought of directly, because before it was so obvious it didn't need to be mentioned, and now it's something that people call him crazy over, something that's half shut down. But they're still themselves. He and England know neither of them is making this up.] I know it, yeah? You're an island and you're millions of people and even if you're like this it's not like you turned into something else 'cause I'm right here and I can be sure since I know you really well, like--really, really well.

[keepscalm]

[Perhaps he was too quick to dismiss this topic as too philosophical for America.

Though they've certainly had their rows, and things between them have changed at an exponential rate recently, America is still his closest ally. And England is very grateful for that in this moment; America is his friend and lover too, of course, but the tie between them as nations is the most important of them all. It's because of that tie that they can even think about being anything else.

England tilts his head to rest it against America's.] Really really well, you say? [That's how he chooses to dress up his response, but regardless of the actual words, they undeniably sound like gratitude.]

[fifty]

[America smiles again.] Really, really, really well. [He puts a hand on England's chest, over his heart.] Here's London, obviously. [Then he traces a lazy path to England's arm and over the faint veins beneath the skin.] Here's your rivers. [He returns to England's heart, then moves up until he's brushing his thumb feather-light against the thrum of England's heartbeat up in his throat.] This one's the Thames, right?

[keepscalm]

[Though England often finds himself wondering as to the acceptability of his appearance when America touches him, for the first time the creeping undercurrent of insecurity is absent. He wants America to keep going, wants to hear just how well America knows each part of him.

A smile curls his lips, his pulse quickening subtly beneath America's thumb.] Indeed. I'm surprised you remembered what it's called.

[He's not truly surprised, but his intention in saying it is clear; it's an obvious attempt to spur America on.]

[fifty]

You've told me what it's called a ton of times. [America pulls England's geography half from memory and half from feel. England did try very hard, once, to teach him this sort of thing, and America has been to England enough that if he really tries, things do come to mind if he wants them to. It's really important, right now, to remind England that he's not human, so he's pretty invested in remembering right now.

He returns to England's heart again, this time with both hands, and then moves outward over his chest.] Okay--well, Greater London, obviously, since London is huge--and Kent. Here's the White Cliffs of Dover, you've taken me to see those a few times. [From England's ribs to his sides; all places he's traced before under slightly different circumstances, which makes this easier.] Essex and--Gl--Gloucestershire. Your names for places are super long, sometimes, y'know. [He's only playing at pouting, of course. Finally, he feels the bones of England's spine. Another easy one.] And here's the Pennines.

[He doesn't think someone who wasn't a nation would be able to do this--memorize the locations, sure, but find them by feel? Probably not. It's like knowing that what someone else has are called hands because you have hands, or something. Only a nation would be able to know mountains because they had mountains.]

[keepscalm]

[England is captivated by the progression of America's journey over his body, gaze flickering between America's moving hands and his intent face. It can't make up for what England has lost, but the blossom of warmth in his chest makes the gap seem less monstrous, less looming. It's not unusual that England ponders how profoundly deep his love for America goes, but every inch of the way he's fought against it consuming him. He's never really just let it take its course before.

It's nice. It's been a long time since England has felt a joy like this.

He brushes his fingertips over the left side of America's chest, where he knows Washington D.C. is thrumming merrily away. His hand travels up until his fingers rest against America's cheek; a glimpse of that true, well-hidden affection appears in England's smile.] And here I thought you were rubbish at world geography.

[fifty]

You taught me yours. [America wouldn't be willing to concede something like that under normal circumstances, but with what England's lost and the way he's looking at America, it doesn't seem like such a concession. He leans into England's hand a little.] Lancashire, right?

[keepscalm]

[England nods once in confirmation, and then lifts his opposite hand in demonstration.] And this one's Yorkshire.

[And then he places that once against America's face too, gentle and appreciative.] It's nice that you remember. [America would have good reason to want to forget a lot of things about England, after all.]

[fifty]

[Later, America will be embarrassed about saying this. For now, though, he just says what comes to mind first:] I want to know everything about you.

[keepscalm]

[That's definitely a declaration that shouldn't be made lightly, especially when it comes to nations. It's so over the top that England has a hard time taking it personally. He laughs again, softly, though it lacks the self-deprecation of his earlier similar gestures.] I don't think you want to know everything.

[Which, surprisingly, isn't personal, either. Everyone has sides that people are better off not seeing.]