[He's woken up in Salkia Park, just as injured and bruised as he was after the war, granted his wounds have been dressed with the exceptions for the scrapes and splotches on his face. Amidst all the layers he's wearing, he's yet to notice that he's sitting on a strange, not-18th-century object that has turned on and is taping the grass, hello grass
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Don't worry you will figure it out!! Do you need help?
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Th-the box, it--! [but...but this person knew his name, which just makes it worse]
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Its nothing to be afraid of!
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Italy...I'm afraid you're making less sense than usual. Your voice is...[he pokes at the LP, his hands causing static] it's coming from this odd...communication device, you said?
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[ Slight sigh. ]
Avstreya. Even you...
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Mein Gott...Russia? [His voice is farther away, as he's promptly shoved the LP down the length of the bench from himself.
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[ Chuckles as he pictures Austria doing just that. The aristocrat was his on-again-off-again ally, and back home Roderich was hovering toward the negative of the spectrum. But, with this island, you never knew... ]
Do not be afraid of box~ Mmh... what year is it for you, Avstreya?
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I'm far from afraid! [Huff puff!] It's...[he sighs, talking to an inanimate object isn't exactly his brand of sanity] it's 1748, Russia, as it is everywhere else.
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...Hardly. Who exactly is speaking to me? [his voice is shaky, but he's trying hard to quell it]
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Austria, now you're here too?
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On a god-forsaken island speaking to an object that appears to project voices and faces? [He's so unhappy, it's ridiculous.] Yes, I'm here, as well. Might I ask who else is?
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Are you alright? Oh! Um--What year is it?
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...One of the Baltic states, am I correct?
[He rolls his eyes, not that Liet can see that.] 1748, as it ought to be in every part of the world.
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