snowblindrpg | Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Six

[There's a little pause as America's brain flips over to translating Morse code, during which his thumb moves idly back and forth on England's shoulder.] It's just a really gross room. No cells or anything. ...There's toilets, I guess. [He gestures vaguely to one with his free hand.]

[England turns, slowly, to look back at the toilet. His gaze also finds the bed, and he taps out something else.] Bed?

Nope. Toilet and a sink. [Sorry you may or may not have slept on a gross floor.]

[England has spent a lot of his life sleeping on gross floors and other gross surfaces. That is not his concern. His concern is what was actually happening when he felt himself laying or sitting on the bed.

His expression is perplexed and a bit annoyed as he regards America. He indicates the collar again, this time running his hand along the chain that connects him to the wall. What about this?]

[The way America looks at England's gesture, clearly trying to interpret it, the answer is probably obvious even before America delicately puts the pads of his fingers on England's neck.] There's no chain or anything.

[Even though America's touch is gentle, England still flinches at the strange sensation of America seemingly reaching right through the collar. If he's not chained to the wall, then--what happened to his neck? How were they really choking him?

The memories of being strangled by his own collar are still pretty vivid, the identity of those who did it aside. England briefly squeezes his eyes shut, but that makes the recollection stronger, so he meets America's gaze again despite the tremor rising in his spine. He hates the idea of needing someone's help even to break free of this wretched illusion.

If he's confident enough, maybe America won't notice how embarrassed he is, and hopefully everyone else is too wrapped up in their own rescues to pay attention to what they're doing. He taps out an instruction.] Keep touching me.

[That's kind of a weird instruction, but it's not like America can't do it.] Okay. [He doesn't really need to answer out loud, but that doesn't stop him, of course. He puts his whole palm on Enland's neck where it meets his shoulder, being as gentle as he can. The bruises on his neck look awful.] Is it helping?

[Though it's a little annoying, England decides to explain while America is following his directions.] If you can touch me, there's no collar in the way. So it's helping.

[Unless America himself isn't real, of course.

No, that's not a helpful train of thought at all.]

Oh, yeah, that makes sense. [America puts both hands on England's neck, then, one on each side.]

[A cold shock seizes England's chest. He speaks out loud this time, too alarmed to use Morse.] Too much! [Too much like the collar, surrounding him, squeezing the passage to his lungs shut--]

[America pulls his hands away as sure as if he'd been burned.] Sorry, sorry! It's okay, nothing's happening! [He really hopes nothing's happening.]

[England's breathing has already quickened, the wheeze all the more noticeable for it. His throat feels like there are nails lodged in it, especially as he speaks, harried and a little distracted.] One hand. Gentle. Please.

Okay. [America cups his cheek, first, feeling kind of silly for it, before he moves it gently down to England's neck again. Still, he's prepared to pull it away at a moment's notice.]

[For once, England is too preoccupied by something else to worry too much about America touching his face like that. He just tries to focus on the sensation on his neck--America's hand, not a metal collar, not anything that will hurt him. America wouldn't hurt him. This is safe, he's fine...

He lifts his good hand to brush his fingers against America's wrist, further confirming the nature of the touch.]

[America is watching him with an almost comical amount of focus.] It's okay?

[England's heart is still racing, but he's focusing intently on America in front of him. This room isn't real, but America is. He can trust America.

He nods, and despite his instincts, tilts his head back a little to expose his neck further, trying to convince both America and himself that it's really okay.]

[There's a definite hesitance, but America moves his hand a little to touch a different part of England's neck. He's trying to aim where a collar would probably be, though it's hard when he can't see it.]

[At least the bruising is a pretty good guide!

With careful focus and America's gentle touch, England's breathing gradually slows. Eventually, he taps out another instruction, this time on the back of America's hand.] Help me stand.

Stand? [America's eyes drop to what's left of England's foot. Still, he'll do his best, moving his hands to England's arms.]

[Yes, as it turns out, the foot is a pretty big issue; England doesn't put any weight on it at all, and one of his arms is still broken, so he's only using half his limbs as he uses America to pull himself upright. He cringes every inch of the way, as well, his face scrunched and his jaw clenched.]

[America winces as England cringes upward.] Hey, uh--here. [He scoops England up bridal-style. He really can't just stand there and watch England hurt himself even more.]

[England takes in a sharp breath, partially from the sharp pain of being moved and partially just plain startled. He gives America an affronted look. He did not agree to this!]

Dude, your foot looks awful. [There's no way he can walk on that.]

[He's not in any position to tap out Morse code, but the expression on his face is clear enough that it's not necessary: So?]

So this is better. [He walks out of the cell--not that it looks like a cell to him, but maybe to England.] We can move faster this way.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject