☂ two
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Day 7.
Location: Hell America Discedo, Fortuna.
Status: uncertain at best; recovering from vertigo induced by proxy to idiocy.
Supplies: Steady. Or steadily decreasing. Either way.
Report:
For the moment, it seems as though almost the entirety of the original Allies are, indeed, present; America, though stuck about forty decades behind, is present and of as much soundness of mind as can be expected of him. France is alive, thank God always annoying, so there's little difference whether or not he hails from the present as well. I have not yet heard Russia about, though there's word that he is, indeed, here. I haven't heard of or from China, though likely I'd only hear him clear his throat and mention something about a tea exchange. I'm here, of course, and I will not give into such insanity that seems all too present here.
It seems as though I have come across His Highness the Prince Arthur of Pendragon and his assistant, the boy called Merlin. I've yet to properly process these two, but I do believe in the genuineness of their own beliefs. Now if they would simply reciprocate-- I've also come across Prussia, but he is of little consequence, as is Austria. Of course, if I did want to, I could perhaps make him cry by cutting a piano string. I've also yet to return my gratitude to a Professor Layton-- for his assistance in navigating this detestable place, perhaps I shall send to him that Earl Grey I had in my possession.
The current mission: find the way out of here. And take that brat Sealand with me, lest he hurt himself or someone else. I have been told that the way in is also the way out, and thus I shall have to examine the woods from which I came. It requires me to gather more information about this Fortuna, whoever she might be. I've yet to sit America down and gather any information he may have gleaned from his time here; I shall have to also find stock of liquor, else make it myself, on the subject.
My work's cut out for me, is it?
[ooc; nota bene, guys, all strike-out text is deleted.]
Day 7.
Location: Hell America Discedo, Fortuna.
Status: uncertain at best; recovering from vertigo induced by proxy to idiocy.
Supplies: Steady. Or steadily decreasing. Either way.
Report:
For the moment, it seems as though almost the entirety of the original Allies are, indeed, present; America, though stuck about forty decades behind, is present and of as much soundness of mind as can be expected of him. France is alive, thank God always annoying, so there's little difference whether or not he hails from the present as well. I have not yet heard Russia about, though there's word that he is, indeed, here. I haven't heard of or from China, though likely I'd only hear him clear his throat and mention something about a tea exchange. I'm here, of course, and I will not give into such insanity that seems all too present here.
It seems as though I have come across His Highness the Prince Arthur of Pendragon and his assistant, the boy called Merlin. I've yet to properly process these two, but I do believe in the genuineness of their own beliefs. Now if they would simply reciprocate-- I've also come across Prussia, but he is of little consequence, as is Austria. Of course, if I did want to, I could perhaps make him cry by cutting a piano string. I've also yet to return my gratitude to a Professor Layton-- for his assistance in navigating this detestable place, perhaps I shall send to him that Earl Grey I had in my possession.
The current mission: find the way out of here. And take that brat Sealand with me, lest he hurt himself or someone else. I have been told that the way in is also the way out, and thus I shall have to examine the woods from which I came. It requires me to gather more information about this Fortuna, whoever she might be. I've yet to sit America down and gather any information he may have gleaned from his time here; I shall have to also find stock of liquor, else make it myself, on the subject.
My work's cut out for me, is it?
[ooc; nota bene, guys, all strike-out text is deleted.]