Re: America/England
anonymous
May 3 2009, 21:09:18 UTC
They would grab his wrist and they'd pull him up, fingers trace over his bare chest before they'd slam him against the wall and it'd hurt so much, he couldn't do anything, and America painfully ignores England's struggles to be free, his screaming, it's so loud and it's like they're cutting him up inside out and he pulls England to his chest. His free hand folds into a straight line and it hits his neck without a sound, and England isn't awake anymore.
“Job well done, America. Now let's get going.” France adds, stoic, unlike his normal self. He... he knew England would be hurt, but this was beyond what he ever thought he'd see. His rival... his rival was by near, dead inside, or maybe already gone. France couldn't tell at England in this state.
America nods, and he takes the keys in his hand and unlocks the shackles. He picks up England, slipping his arms under his neck and knees protectively. He's... he's so light... America thinks, and all of a sudden, he feels like his knees will buckle any moment and he's going to start crying because, damn it, damn it all to Hell, he couldn't protect England. He loves him, has loved him for so long, longer then he's loved anyone and likes to think it's longer then anyone has loved someone and here England is, beaten and traumatized because America failed to be a damn hero.
What was his title worth if he can't even protect the person he loves most in the world?
France exits the cell and America follows after, France cautiously making his way forward with his pistol protectively in his hand.
The place was truly empty though, because the trio managed to make it outside without much trouble at all. The sun is setting, but the darkness has left France and America wincing as they adjust to the light, and struggle to the helicopter; “I'll pilot this time.” France says, and America doesn't reply, but France knows America would rather be holding England.
In minutes, the plane was buzzing in the air; “Let's bring him to your vacation house in Virginia for now, okay? I highly doubt letting his higher-ups see him like this will be a good idea anyway.” France explains, and America nods. Even if France doesn't say it, America knows it's also because... well, they honestly don't know whether England will heal, or rather, if he can.
They're in the air, and America's honestly always loved it up there. It's vast and beautiful colors; right now, it's purple and orange and yellow like America's hair, but the sky holds no comfort today, because he can't feel happy when England is in his arms.
England, whose eyes showed a void when they found him, who was scared when America touched his cheek, who... who didn't know who he was, who America was, who France was. Everything was a blur to England and it made America's heart break.
His gloved hand runs through England's tangled hair, and he comes to notice, and his eyes narrow; dry blood coats his sandy blond hair, which isn't so much blond anymore. It's so pale that it's almost like Prussia's white hair, and America remembers the urge to kill Russia, but he knows. France's words ring in his head, Russia is not his priority, England is.
“... Do you think you can heal him?” France asks, but America doesn't reply, because... he's always the hero, he can do anything, he's got no faults, but, to be honest... he really doesn't know anymore.
[A/N: orz, ANY TALES FANS OUT THERE? Cause that quote, " What was his title worth if he can't even protect the person he loves most in the world?" is pretty much jacked off one of the Tales Of games~~ Though I admit, I honestly don't know which game it's from. Memory escapes me. I think it's Lloyd who said it, but. idk. ;A;''' ]
They made it out safely! I don't think I could've taken it if something else bad would've happened. @A@
It's been a while since I played ToS so I don't really remember any quotes... though it does seem like something Lloyd would say if he was talking about Colette.
“Job well done, America. Now let's get going.” France adds, stoic, unlike his normal self. He... he knew England would be hurt, but this was beyond what he ever thought he'd see. His rival... his rival was by near, dead inside, or maybe already gone. France couldn't tell at England in this state.
America nods, and he takes the keys in his hand and unlocks the shackles. He picks up England, slipping his arms under his neck and knees protectively. He's... he's so light... America thinks, and all of a sudden, he feels like his knees will buckle any moment and he's going to start crying because, damn it, damn it all to Hell, he couldn't protect England. He loves him, has loved him for so long, longer then he's loved anyone and likes to think it's longer then anyone has loved someone and here England is, beaten and traumatized because America failed to be a damn hero.
What was his title worth if he can't even protect the person he loves most in the world?
France exits the cell and America follows after, France cautiously making his way forward with his pistol protectively in his hand.
The place was truly empty though, because the trio managed to make it outside without much trouble at all. The sun is setting, but the darkness has left France and America wincing as they adjust to the light, and struggle to the helicopter; “I'll pilot this time.” France says, and America doesn't reply, but France knows America would rather be holding England.
In minutes, the plane was buzzing in the air; “Let's bring him to your vacation house in Virginia for now, okay? I highly doubt letting his higher-ups see him like this will be a good idea anyway.” France explains, and America nods. Even if France doesn't say it, America knows it's also because... well, they honestly don't know whether England will heal, or rather, if he can.
They're in the air, and America's honestly always loved it up there. It's vast and beautiful colors; right now, it's purple and orange and yellow like America's hair, but the sky holds no comfort today, because he can't feel happy when England is in his arms.
England, whose eyes showed a void when they found him, who was scared when America touched his cheek, who... who didn't know who he was, who America was, who France was. Everything was a blur to England and it made America's heart break.
His gloved hand runs through England's tangled hair, and he comes to notice, and his eyes narrow; dry blood coats his sandy blond hair, which isn't so much blond anymore. It's so pale that it's almost like Prussia's white hair, and America remembers the urge to kill Russia, but he knows. France's words ring in his head, Russia is not his priority, England is.
“... Do you think you can heal him?” France asks, but America doesn't reply, because... he's always the hero, he can do anything, he's got no faults, but, to be honest... he really doesn't know anymore.
[A/N: orz, ANY TALES FANS OUT THERE? Cause that quote, "
What was his title worth if he can't even protect the person he loves most in the world?" is pretty much jacked off one of the Tales Of games~~ Though I admit, I honestly don't know which game it's from. Memory escapes me. I think it's Lloyd who said it, but. idk. ;A;''' ]
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It's been a while since I played ToS so I don't really remember any quotes... though it does seem like something Lloyd would say if he was talking about Colette.
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