lostrealm | The English Patient [OPEN]

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The English Patient [OPEN]

Characters: England AND YOU
Date: September 15-22
Format: starting with prose, but I can follow whatever you want
Content Warnings: possible swearing and conversations about violence. also England is a masochist.
Summary: England was taken to the hospital by Stein after brutally being beaten up by Germany. People are welcome to visit, though he may be a bit loopy because he's on painkillers.
Notes: please no communicator posts. come visit in person. also, it'd be cool if you mentioned which day you visited in the subject line, though this is not necessary.

He really needed to stop sticking out his nose for Darstone. England thought he was doing the people a favor, and it had backfired on him. Twice. By now, his confidence had dwindled considerably. The only thing he wanted to do was run away and hide. Perhaps moving into the mining caves would be a good idea after all.

The island spent most of his time staring up at the ceiling remembering the fight. Germany had been acting so unlike himself. England was certain he'd been under some sort of spell, but he wasn't sure what that was. What a bother! He didn't know what happened after he'd been knocked unconscious, but he actually hoped that Germany was better. Yes, he was worried about his enemy. No, his fellow country. Because that wasn't right. Once England found out what had gone on, and if someone else was truly responsible, he wouldn't blame him.

That didn't mean he despised him any less. At least for the moment.

England's eyes slid shut. He nodded on and off throughout the day and night. After all, there wasn't much else to do. He had two arms and one leg in a cast, a neck brace, and various scrapes and bruises along his body, especially on his face where Germany had applied the most pressure. Thank goodness he was a country and he wouldn't have to be holed up here for much longer. England healed faster than a human. Still, it wasn't pleasant to be in this condition.

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If England happens to look over at his window, he will see a small head peeking up over his windowsill curiously.

Yes, even if he's on a higher floor. Yay for flying powers!

John wasn't there to hurt England. No, he was just new to the city and couldn't figure out what half the buildings were, so he was walking (or, at times, floating) around trying to get a feel for where he was. He had been trying not to peek into windows, since he did understand privacy and how people might not like having someone look in on them, but zooming past he had seen a bunch of wrapped limbs sticking up and his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

It took England a while to come to his senses after waking from his nap. The first thing he noticed, though, when he looked around, was a little boy in the window. That startled him, and he made a sound to show as such. Maybe he was still dreaming.

"Are you the Reaper? Have you come here to finish the job?"

For a moment there he almost felt bad for startling the obviously hurt and drugged-up guy, but then he had said something that made John roll his eyes. "No way," he said, pulling himself up a bit farther on the windowsill so he could talk without his mouth being blocked, "There's no metaphorical death figures here. You'll be fine."

After a short pause and another glance at England's broken everything, John added, "Eventually."

Yes, broken everything.

Once England knew that this guy wasn't Death's cold grip, he settled down... Only to be riled back up again. "Then why are you peeking in my window? Didn't your parents ever told you that that was rude?"

"I didn't mean to, I just saw something and thought it was some kind of taped-up cloth monster," John said defensively, even though his defense sounded absolutely ridiculous.

But his curiosity gave way again, and he asked, "So, what happened? Did you get hit by a bus?"

England kept himself from rolling his eyes. After all, he was just a young boy, and boys were curious. "I was..." A pause. Should he tell this kid his problems? It might be better not to get him involved. "...Yes. I was hit by a bus."

He was a horrible liar.

"It must've been a bad bus hit, to mess you up so badly." He believed England, though. He really had no reason not to believe him.

John also felt kind of bad for England, since he was going to be laid up in the hospital for weeks with all those broken bones. "So...do you need anything? Hospital food is kinda shitty, but I bet I could sneak some stuff in."

The comment made England's lips quirk up in a smile. He tilted his head slightly, expressing his thanks to the mysterious peeping Tom with his eyes. "I think I'll be alright. The doctor here knows me well."

Prussia's hope is that England is asleep when he comes to visit. So he deliberately makes his way there late at night, when the medications they surely must have him on should couple with the natural tendency towards sleepiness, rendering England some sort of unconscious. He slips into the room slightly distracted by his own feelings of guilt. Had he paid more attention to West, would England still be in such a state? Could he have done anything to help England, instead of holding back out of-

He hadn't been afraid. Really. Who was he to be afraid of his little brother, huh?

With a sigh, Prussia pulls a chair up next to the bed and settles down in it. What was he to do? It seemed his loyalties were divided...

"Well okay, if you're sure."

It must have been boring in that room, not being able to move and not having anything to do. John had thought breaking his arm that one time had been bad, but England had most of his limbs broken so that had to be three times as bad. He wanted to explore some, since he had just arrived and still had more of the city to see, but he didn't want to leave England all by his lonesome.

"Do you want to talk for a bit," he asked, deciding to leave the choice up to England, "I mean, I don't really have anywhere to be, so if you're bored I could keep you less-bored for a while."

The island was in a light sleep. He couldn't sleep very well at all while he was here. Even with the medicine, his nightmares were plagued by thoughts of Germany and his bombs, Hitler stomping all over England's lands, a complete take-over. And then he'd wake up, call out for France or America, and realize none of those horrible things had really happened.

Prussia had only been there ten minutes before England stirred. His fingers and eyebrows twitched anxiously.

"No..." he mumbled in his sleep. "Germany... wake up..."

The country blinked in surprise. Someone actually wanted to talk to him, even in this state. He still felt really disgusted over the fight with Germany. Twice that man had destroyed him, even with all of England's magic. He felt inadequate. So for a stranger to take notice of him...

Ah, yes. The boy was a stranger. He didn't know what happened to England, didn't know how he'd failed. After brief hesitation, he nodded at last to the boy.

"I-if you want. I don't want to hold you up."

"It's no problem," John said, moving so that he was sitting on the windowsill instead of just leaning on it. If there was going to be a longer conversation, he didn't want to just be floating there outside the window. People might start asking questions. "Like I said, I just got here, and I don't have any jobs or anything. I'm John, by the way."

Introductions were necessary, since it would be slightly less weird for him to hang around if they weren't strangers.

"It's nice to meet you, John," smiled England. "I'm Arthur Kirkland. Why don't you come in here and sit." There were a couple chairs in the room so the lad wouldn't have to stand. "I'm also a guest of Darstone. How do you find it?"

He looks up, turning to face England at his plea. "H-hey... Shhhh... you're safe here." Prussia almost reaches for him, before restraining himself, twisting the skirt of his coat nervously. Touching might only make England's nightmares worse. "It's all right..." Part of him is uncertain he can promise England's safety, but if it comes down to it, he will protect England. Hopefully he won't have to, however.

England continued to squirm slightly before he forced his eyes to open wide. His gaze darted back and forth in the dark.

"Wh... Who's there?!" He couldn't even defend himself.

"It's me. Gilbert." Not that his voice isn't terribly distinct, but he thinks it's best to identify himself. "You're safe, Engel." Prussia shifts in the chair, but remains seated, so he doesn't loom over England.

That worked out even better. John hopped off the window sill and over to one of the chairs, glad to have a place to sit. "It's alright," he said, "There's so many kinds of people here! Did you know there's people that look like frogs? And then some that are smaller and weirder-looking humans too. It's like a bunch of different kinds of aliens all ended up here or something."

He still knew very little about Darstone, but it was all amazing to him.

Gilbert, Gilbert. Prussia. England's frantic breathing slowed down and his gaze slowly shifted to the blob in the chair. His eyes were starting to get used to the darkness, and soon he could see Prussia's hair, and his eyes, and the rest of his body followed. The pet-name seemed to calm him down instantly. He relaxed his body. Should he have been more cautious? Probably. What if Prussia had gone berserk like his brother.

"Something... wrong. With your brother..." His eyes slid shut again. He wanted to run away. How could he face the other country like this? England hated looking weak in front of Prussia, in front of anyone. He was so ashamed.

England nodded. "I've talked to a few of those little people, the gnomes. This whole world is extraordinary, yeah?" His smile got a little bit wider. He was trying to hide the shame that he felt. England had to keep reminding himself that John knew nothing about him. For now, he could pose as a human who just had an unfortunate accident. "It's not like my world at all."

"...Ja, I know." Gilbert bites his lip, swallowing nervously. "He hardly seemed to know me." He looks away, then, dragging his hand through his hair. This wasn't how he planned the night to go, really. "Reminds me of this time back in the Baltics, fighting Prūsa. Hah. New knight just fuckin' lost it on the field. Tried to kill everyone in his way. Just lost his mind." He speaks of his youth, of course, from before when he had land to his name.

"Yeah, it's not like mine either," John admitted, "There's just humans in my world, and that's it. Or there were, I guess." It had been a year since the day his Earth had been destroyed, but he still talked about it in the present tense sometimes, entirely on accident.

He did notice England's accent, too, but he just thought England was from...well, England. Or some kind of alternate version of England, wherever. It was just a funny accent and John was debating asking England if he wanted tea and crumpets.

Tea and crumpets would have been nice. But England was having a hard time ingesting solid food. Ah, well. At least tea. The tea from the hospital was bland.

"Mm, mine too." He closed his eyes, feeling sleepy from the medication. "Are you from earth?"

Oh, good. Then it wasn't just him who felt something was weird. England felt validated from that. He opened his eyes again and frowned when he saw the traction holding up his leg.

"Tried'a stop him... from hurting D-Darstone... Did he?" There was actually deep concern in his voice that could be heard even over the medicated slur of his voice. He wanted to turn his head to look at Prussia, since looking away while speaking was rude.

Edited 2012-09-22 21:11 (UTC)

"I don't think he did... Not that I saw. But... A lot of people did try to stop him. So he did not have much chance." He sits back in the chair, head dropped back so he looks towards the ceiling. This feels so awkward. Gil doesn't want to make England feel like his effort was a waste, but he also wants to allay his fears.

Edited 2012-09-22 21:16 (UTC)

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The English Patient [OPEN]

the 19th in the afternoon-ish

o helo john

He'll just be here, creepin in ur windows

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15 September, late night

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