Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [2/?]
anonymous
March 20 2010, 20:16:54 UTC
"What? Don't look at me. This is not my fault."
Of course, everyone kept looking at England.
"Look, the recipe I gave him doesn't even take memories away! Just suppresses them. I use it all the time! Good god, so does France!" France twitched, and England went pale as he realized that probably wasn't something his neigbor wanted spread around, but it was too late. He plowed on. "Look, I don't know what the hell happened to him but if you lot would just stop shouting for a bit we could maybe ask some sensible questions like - Lithuania! What's the last thing you remember before you woke up!"
Lithuania cast Poland a confused look. Poland sighed, and repeated in Lithuanian: "He wants to know the last thing you remember before you woke up."
"I'm not sure," Lithuania answered, in the same language. He rubbed at his temple - okay, that mannerism either hadn't gone away or it hadn't changed in, well, however long. "I remember it was a hot day, and I hadn't been working, but i was still so hot I went down to the cellar to sleep. I think you had been there before I went to sleep. We drank mead - we were celebrating something." He frowned. "Lenkija - Polska, who are these nations? Why did you bring me here?"
"Well, England's here because I think it has to have been magic. And France is here because he picked up England's phone, and your brothers are here for moral support."
"But I have no brothers -"
Poland answered that in what sounded like rapidfire Polish, but England was too distracted to listen, because France had just poured the rest of his hot coffee down the back of England's shirt. He hissed and grabbed his knees and the worst part was that he couldn't scream out loud, because it wasn't boiling coffee, just warm, and screaming would mean someone would ask what the matter was and France would probably tell them. Damn, damn, damn. And he'd waited just long enough it make it seem like he wasn't going to do anything. England took a deep breath and hissed, "What the fuck, frog?"
"Merely indulging in a spot of negative reinforcement, dearest. Also, your coffee is truly abominable." France waved a hand amiably and leaned back in his chair. "Carry on."
"It's your fucking coffee, this is your house!"
"And if you had not insisted on making it, it might have been palatable, but we all know your skill with recipes - "
Estonia coughed before the argument could get any louder, or whatever it was that was making Poland and Lithuania's discussion involve so much handwaving could erupt into an actual argument. He had long since perfected the art of politely coughing in a way that split your eardrums. Latvia shot him a desperate look of gratitude. "England! This potion of yours, if it works normally, what exactly are the effects?"
"It suppresses memories. Doesn't erase the memories, only . . . makes them less relevant." He had to hunt a bit for the Lithuanian words. It was always easier to speak your own language, even if you understood someone else's. "Someone who has taken it should be unable to recall whatever they took it for unless they deliberately think about it. The memories will not spring to mind if they see something related, or as dreams."
"Hmm. And is it reversible?"
"It wears off eventually." England sighed and put his head in his hands. "Norway's recipe, really, I just modified it. Why didn't you call Norway? Aren't you guys all buddy-buddy with the Nordics?"
"I tried! But I kept getting his voicemail. Tell you later," he added, at Lithuania's confused look. He took a deep breath. "Okay, how long does it take to wear off? If it's working normally. I mean, maybe we can just wait it out."
"What? Don't look at me. This is not my fault."
Of course, everyone kept looking at England.
"Look, the recipe I gave him doesn't even take memories away! Just suppresses them. I use it all the time! Good god, so does France!" France twitched, and England went pale as he realized that probably wasn't something his neigbor wanted spread around, but it was too late. He plowed on. "Look, I don't know what the hell happened to him but if you lot would just stop shouting for a bit we could maybe ask some sensible questions like - Lithuania! What's the last thing you remember before you woke up!"
Lithuania cast Poland a confused look. Poland sighed, and repeated in Lithuanian: "He wants to know the last thing you remember before you woke up."
"I'm not sure," Lithuania answered, in the same language. He rubbed at his temple - okay, that mannerism either hadn't gone away or it hadn't changed in, well, however long. "I remember it was a hot day, and I hadn't been working, but i was still so hot I went down to the cellar to sleep. I think you had been there before I went to sleep. We drank mead - we were celebrating something." He frowned. "Lenkija - Polska, who are these nations? Why did you bring me here?"
"Well, England's here because I think it has to have been magic. And France is here because he picked up England's phone, and your brothers are here for moral support."
"But I have no brothers -"
Poland answered that in what sounded like rapidfire Polish, but England was too distracted to listen, because France had just poured the rest of his hot coffee down the back of England's shirt. He hissed and grabbed his knees and the worst part was that he couldn't scream out loud, because it wasn't boiling coffee, just warm, and screaming would mean someone would ask what the matter was and France would probably tell them. Damn, damn, damn. And he'd waited just long enough it make it seem like he wasn't going to do anything. England took a deep breath and hissed, "What the fuck, frog?"
"Merely indulging in a spot of negative reinforcement, dearest. Also, your coffee is truly abominable." France waved a hand amiably and leaned back in his chair. "Carry on."
"It's your fucking coffee, this is your house!"
"And if you had not insisted on making it, it might have been palatable, but we all know your skill with recipes - "
Estonia coughed before the argument could get any louder, or whatever it was that was making Poland and Lithuania's discussion involve so much handwaving could erupt into an actual argument. He had long since perfected the art of politely coughing in a way that split your eardrums. Latvia shot him a desperate look of gratitude. "England! This potion of yours, if it works normally, what exactly are the effects?"
"It suppresses memories. Doesn't erase the memories, only . . . makes them less relevant." He had to hunt a bit for the Lithuanian words. It was always easier to speak your own language, even if you understood someone else's. "Someone who has taken it should be unable to recall whatever they took it for unless they deliberately think about it. The memories will not spring to mind if they see something related, or as dreams."
"Hmm. And is it reversible?"
"It wears off eventually." England sighed and put his head in his hands. "Norway's recipe, really, I just modified it. Why didn't you call Norway? Aren't you guys all buddy-buddy with the Nordics?"
"I tried! But I kept getting his voicemail. Tell you later," he added, at Lithuania's confused look. He took a deep breath. "Okay, how long does it take to wear off? If it's working normally. I mean, maybe we can just wait it out."
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