lostrealm | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

England had no idea that Prussia was trying to hide. He made a humming noise. "I don't care," he said tiredly. Prussia could talk about whatever the hell he wanted. Wasn't like England could leave the conversation. That thought made him smirk slightly.

He sighs. "Well, I'm visiting you, but if you wanna be like that what was that I heard Doktor Stein saying about vivisection?" Is it too soon to be asking? Eh. Whatever. It's a subject that isn't Germany.

"Vivi-what?" England had nodded off momentarily. "Oh, oh... right." After a section, the smirk widened. Had Stein talked to Prussia about it? Whatever happened to that doctor-patient privacy thing? "Gonna... help him... with science and all that rot..."

Well, it's hardly confidential if the doctor just announces in the middle of the street that it's terribly inconvenient that Germany keeps breaking England.

Ehem.

"By letting him cut you open?" He sounds horribly offended. Not at the idea of England being cut open, no. By the idea that it will be some strange man doing the cutting open. Honestly, England. Have you no decency?

England closed his eyes as his smirk faded into a wistful smile. His expression was on the verge of wicked as though he were already imagining it. Thanks to that medicine, he was not even thinking before he spoke, not even holding back his emotions.

"Yeah... to take pictures... for students. Can't wait." If Prussia could flit from alliance to alliance without concern for his partners, then he certainly couldn't say anything about a doctor cutting England open. Besides, it was for a good cause. It's not Stein would photograph his face. Just his beating organs...

And if England happened to enjoy it, then that was just a bonus.

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

That's different and England ought to know it! Alliances and sex are entirely different from... from that, and everyone knows Prussia doesn't do marriage or commitment or whatever they call it these days. Besides, England hardly has room to talk, with his inconstancy in wartime alliances prior to the 20th century. Only fighting on someone's side because their enemy was France. Hah.

"Whaddya mean you can't wait?"

...Why is he so jealous? It's not like England is his! He doesn't do commitment.

England never slept with France. Or America. Or anyone (Spain, he did on occasion when he was being rebellious back in his younger days. And once with Japan, though both of them were terribly awkward about it). But Prussia was special to England. England wanted him the most, wanted to be with him forever. And he had always been jealous of the way Prussia had fawned over Frederick the Great. Hmph.

In any case, he wasn't think about that right now. He was thinking about that scalpel cutting him open, sliding down his body. Oh, goodness, it turned him on! Why was he in these wretched casts?

"Gonna hurt," he purred. "Fun..."

...Oh Hell, his inner sadist just sat up and took notice at that tone. Along with less... inner... things. Gilbert groans, sliding his hand into his hair before looking at England out of the corner of his eye. "Is that so...?" Maybe he is leading England on; trying to get him to confess to more. So what?

He still would rather it be his hand that holds the blade. Not someone else's.

He needed to calm down. If he got too worked up, that would be embarrassing. Because someone else would have to take care of that. Not that England minded too much. But explaining it... What if Stein walked in? Or someone else? Ugh. He closed his eyes, took a long, deep inhale.

There wasn't really much else to say about it. "Basically... like a live autopsy..." he said as he tried to get rid of the edge in his voice. "Y'know? taking pictures of working... organs..." Hell, stop making him talk about this. "Hands feeling... around..." Was it warm in here?

Perhaps just a little. Or maybe it's just the subject being discussed. Prussia leans in, tracing his tongue over his lips, about to egg England on further... when he remembers that, oh, yes. They're in a hospital and England is in traction.

Which is not as much of a mood killer as you'd think. It's actually the sudden crushing wave of guilt that kills it for Prussia. Gilbert. "Sounds exciting." He clears his throat. "Still, no need to get all worked up about it right now..."

How did Prussia know he was worked up? England gulped and attempted a nod. "It's... payment. For being in the hospital... don't have money." Or at least he didn't when he was first admitted after Prussia and Germany decided they wanted to silence him. Now, England had gems, which could have paid the bills. But England wanted to keep those. And go through with the vivisection. "It's... not like... I'd do it all the time."

Why was he suddenly back-tracking? His thoughts had been uninhibited before. He'd even told Prussia how excited he was. But there was something about the other country's tone that made him feel as though he'd said too much. England cleared his throat awkwardly.

"...you'd better not..." he mutters darkly. If this were to become a regular thing, he'd find the highest point in the city to string Stein up by his intestines from.

Or maybe hang him by his arteries. That would be innovative, actually.

He reaches over and gently brushes the hair back from England's face, a gesture intended to soothe. Though likely he is radiating still some tension at the idea of vivisecting ever being a regular thing in England's schedule.

Ah, touch! That settles England down again. He tilts his head towards Prussia as best as he could, which wasn't that much at all. His thoughts of vivisection flitted away as quickly as they came, and now he was just focusing on Prussia's hand.

"Love..." Again, he still couldn't think clearly. Prussia could probably get him to admit anything if he wanted.

"What was that, Engel?" He rubs England's forehead lightly, tracing a tiny circle near the spot between his eyebrows. When England calls him love... well, he appreciates it, just a little, even if he knows it's a fairly common term to call just about anyone by.

He was starting to fade out now, thanks to the gentle rubbing. England hummed again, eyelids heavy. Finally he closed them completely.

"You..." he finished before he drifted off to sleep. Hopefully, this time, it would be more restful. He would most likely not remember what he said later, which was probably for the best.

He doesn't respond with words; instead just continuing to rub England's forehead as he drifts off. He'll stay the rest of the night, dozing in his seat, but by the time dawn comes he will be wide awake and gone.

The English Patient [OPEN]

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