[BACKDATED] Crushing Rebellions
Who: Arthur Kirkland and Wang Yao
When: April 27th, afternooon
Where: China's house
What: England's not pleased with how rebellious China's being, and is quite miffed that the other Nation gets a house all to himself. He decides to rectify things.
Warnings: England being a massive imperialistic arse, blood, fist fighting and playing dirty.
Whilst China was rather clear headed after a week of clean air and no sweet, sickly smoke. He was still cramping and shaking, and not about to fight off the British Empire. If England found him now, it wasn't what he'd do, it was how he'd use it. China wasn't having his sister knowing any more about this stupid war than she had too, any of his siblings, and as long as he could keep the details from them that was enough. Except that those details were harder to hide at close contact, and knowing Vietnam he couldn't hide away for another week without at least one visit.
Trying to keep his hands steady after dropping the communicator, he started yanking the drawers out of the counters, raking through the utensils until he found something suitably sharp, and darted up the stairs.
Oh, he had done it now.
England was quite good at maintaining a pleasant, gentlemanly appearance for the vast majority of the time. In fact, he'd been on his best behavior as of late. He hadn't done anything to that ungrateful little sod of a country, America, and he and Russia by and large had avoided each other in order to keep things at least mildly civil (as civil as one could be with a land-grabbing madman). He'd even been improving international relations by going out to lunch with Vietnam. On the whole, he was quite happy with things.
But now. Oh, but now, Australia had arrived, much older and claiming to be from the future where he had become independent. England tried to pretend he didn't overly care. Caring brought heartbreak, and he wasn't going to risk that again. Fine, he could let Australia go, really. And if he couldn't, well, he'd just have to get him back later.
Instead, his priority was colonies that were meant to be still his rebelling.
Such as dear China.
He'd indulged himself in a little tracking magic that he knew from heart, though it was difficult without the fae to boost his powers. But eventually, China's door was revealed to him. Why did the other Nation get a house when he had to share with a room mate? That simply wouldn't do.
He knocked three times politely, before kicking the door in, only to see a streak of blue silk and a whip of black hair tearing up the stairs. England grinned. Lions always did enjoy the hunt more than the kill.
"Oh China," he called in a mocking sort of sing-song tone, following up the stairs and making sure his footfalls were heard on each step. "That was very rude of you, cutting our communications like that." He followed along the landing, looking into each of the rooms in turn. "I had so much left to say as well." The bedroom door was ajar, and England made a beeline for it.
China made sure his breathing was slow, pressing his body flat against the wall behind the door, fingering the edge of what he realised now was a vegetable knife, short and sharp. England opened the door carefully, a hand on the hilt of the sword at his belt, hovering in the doorway whilst China willed him to move further into the room.
"Ah, there you are." his eyes fell on the knife, and thick brows raised in amusement. "Now that's no way to treat a guest, is it? Though I suppose I'm not a guest am I? Because, last I checked, I own you, and what is the property of the slave is the property of the master." the empire tapped his hand on the hilt of his sword threateningly. "So I think you'd better put that down, or you'll face the consequences for threatening me in my house."
China rolled his eyes and ducked before swinging around the door and stabbing at England's side; had the Empire not been wearing such thick clothing it would have caused damage rather than merely drawing a little blood.
"You talk to much, aru." He hissed, making a dash for the exit, past the momentarily startled nation.
The smile vanished from England's face. He grabbed China's wrist with one hand, and his long, dark hair in the other. Slamming the shorter Nation's head into a wall, he forced him to drop the knife, kicking it and sending it skittering under the bed. Dazed, China reflexively kicked back on England's shin, throwing his head back at the same time and hearing a satisfying crunch. A couple of soft swears escaped the empire, before he swept China's legs out from under him and threw him to the floor, hand still gripping his hair and now capturing the arm he wasn't holding under his knee. Practically sitting on the older nation, England licked his upper lip and tasted blood. "I don't think we've had a fight like this since the Opium War." he growled lowly, unwilling to let China go to wipe the blood from his face, instead letting it drip onto his back.
"Then it would be long over due." Snapped China, twisting his whole body sharply to one side and throwing all his weight behind it so that England collided with the floor. He barely registed the singular word, Opium War, when it should have been plural. Attempting to jump up, England's hand was still in his hair, and their clothes were tangled together, sending China crashing back down with a shriek. Deciding he'd had quite enough, England drew his sword in a flash of silver and held it at China's neck, hard enough to nick the skin, causing the other nation to go still. The hot blood from England's nose was dripping onto his face, and China screwed up his face in disgust, glaring at the skirtingboard and refusing to meet England's eyes.
"Look at me, China." England said in low and dangerous tones. When he didn't get what he wanted immediately, he tilted the angle of the sword to force the Asian's chin to face him. "I said look at me."
China smiled, his eyes on the ceiling somewhere above England's head. "What are you going to do,Britannia? Cut me until I bleed to death if I do not?"
England's eyes narrowed. "How much do you love Hong Kong, China?"
Clenching his teeth, China swallowed the lump that always rose in his throat. His beloved little brother... grown up by now, and because of this nation he had missed it. Perhaps loosing the child for good.
"More years to the sentence?" He spat contemptuously, eyes still averted.
"An eternity if you keep this up." England replied, sniffing back blood as it clotted slowly.
"You won't last an eternity, England." China smiled, and it was ugly.
"And neither will you." the empire snarled back. "Have you noticed? While you fall from power and grace, I rise. If this has to become a matter of endurance, I assure you that I am stable enough to withstand a millennia more than this. Are you?"
"I am China." He hissed back, still with eyes averted; if it added insult, why not? "I have existed far longer than you ever will! And will withstand longer still!"
"Really? Even as the powers of Europe rip you apart at the seams? Even as your people become British citizens?" England smirked. "Admit it, you're part of a dying world. A relic of the past that is rotting from the inside. A contemporary of Rome, who has fallen some one-thousand three hundred years ago. But I am young still, ever growing, and it will be a while before I fall."
China's expression became a mix of contempt and nostalgia, for reason England couldn't quite comprehend. "Rome." He scoffed. "I thought I recognised your style from somewhere England. No wonder, with such a role model. You're quite the mimic."
England stared. And kept staring, even as the realisation crept onto his features. He did not relinquish his grip, however, instead his knuckles whitened on the hilt of his sword. "I am better than Rome. I told him I would be, and I am. Don't compare me to him."
China finally looked England straight in the eye, earthy brown against acid green. "Why not?" He said quietly. Maliciously. "The only difference to me is appearance. And perhaps he was more courteous."
A sickening crack resounded as England's fist snapped China's face sideways, followed by a sharp smell of metal.
"That is enough." England growled. "I am not Rome. Rome is nothing. I am far worse." he leaned down to whisper in China's ear. "Hong Kong is very, very small, China. So easy to hurt. I hate to think... Just one little accident, one mistake with a cargo of gunpowder and he will be half-dead within a week-"
It was below China to spit. Nevertheless, it was all England deserved, the worse form of insult, a mix of blood and saliva splattered across his face and in his eyes.
"You dare, and even the dogs won't touch your corpse once I'm through with you." He shrieked, thrashing under England's weight. The Empire swore softly as he was nearly thrown off, pinning down China's wrists instead.
"As it is, you won't have a corpse left to touch. I could let Russia know where you are." England personally didn't like the idea, but the point was that if China was going to be disobedient then he would have to face consequences. "We are rending you apart limb from limb already. In fact, my monopoly of your trade is probably the only reason you're still a country. So if I were you, I'd be a little more co-operative."
China's thrashing weakened but his shrieking continued, harsh strings of shaky Chinese punctuated with English words here and there, eventually dying down into rapid murmuring.
"Better." England nodded, getting off China but only letting go of his wrists once the other nation had gone still. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and clean up your mess. I'll be back in an hour with my things. Oh, and don't think you can escape." he paused in the doorway. "There is no way off this island, and I will find you."
With a swish of his coat tails, he left.
When: April 27th, afternooon
Where: China's house
What: England's not pleased with how rebellious China's being, and is quite miffed that the other Nation gets a house all to himself. He decides to rectify things.
Warnings: England being a massive imperialistic arse, blood, fist fighting and playing dirty.
Whilst China was rather clear headed after a week of clean air and no sweet, sickly smoke. He was still cramping and shaking, and not about to fight off the British Empire. If England found him now, it wasn't what he'd do, it was how he'd use it. China wasn't having his sister knowing any more about this stupid war than she had too, any of his siblings, and as long as he could keep the details from them that was enough. Except that those details were harder to hide at close contact, and knowing Vietnam he couldn't hide away for another week without at least one visit.
Trying to keep his hands steady after dropping the communicator, he started yanking the drawers out of the counters, raking through the utensils until he found something suitably sharp, and darted up the stairs.
Oh, he had done it now.
England was quite good at maintaining a pleasant, gentlemanly appearance for the vast majority of the time. In fact, he'd been on his best behavior as of late. He hadn't done anything to that ungrateful little sod of a country, America, and he and Russia by and large had avoided each other in order to keep things at least mildly civil (as civil as one could be with a land-grabbing madman). He'd even been improving international relations by going out to lunch with Vietnam. On the whole, he was quite happy with things.
But now. Oh, but now, Australia had arrived, much older and claiming to be from the future where he had become independent. England tried to pretend he didn't overly care. Caring brought heartbreak, and he wasn't going to risk that again. Fine, he could let Australia go, really. And if he couldn't, well, he'd just have to get him back later.
Instead, his priority was colonies that were meant to be still his rebelling.
Such as dear China.
He'd indulged himself in a little tracking magic that he knew from heart, though it was difficult without the fae to boost his powers. But eventually, China's door was revealed to him. Why did the other Nation get a house when he had to share with a room mate? That simply wouldn't do.
He knocked three times politely, before kicking the door in, only to see a streak of blue silk and a whip of black hair tearing up the stairs. England grinned. Lions always did enjoy the hunt more than the kill.
"Oh China," he called in a mocking sort of sing-song tone, following up the stairs and making sure his footfalls were heard on each step. "That was very rude of you, cutting our communications like that." He followed along the landing, looking into each of the rooms in turn. "I had so much left to say as well." The bedroom door was ajar, and England made a beeline for it.
China made sure his breathing was slow, pressing his body flat against the wall behind the door, fingering the edge of what he realised now was a vegetable knife, short and sharp. England opened the door carefully, a hand on the hilt of the sword at his belt, hovering in the doorway whilst China willed him to move further into the room.
"Ah, there you are." his eyes fell on the knife, and thick brows raised in amusement. "Now that's no way to treat a guest, is it? Though I suppose I'm not a guest am I? Because, last I checked, I own you, and what is the property of the slave is the property of the master." the empire tapped his hand on the hilt of his sword threateningly. "So I think you'd better put that down, or you'll face the consequences for threatening me in my house."
China rolled his eyes and ducked before swinging around the door and stabbing at England's side; had the Empire not been wearing such thick clothing it would have caused damage rather than merely drawing a little blood.
"You talk to much, aru." He hissed, making a dash for the exit, past the momentarily startled nation.
The smile vanished from England's face. He grabbed China's wrist with one hand, and his long, dark hair in the other. Slamming the shorter Nation's head into a wall, he forced him to drop the knife, kicking it and sending it skittering under the bed. Dazed, China reflexively kicked back on England's shin, throwing his head back at the same time and hearing a satisfying crunch. A couple of soft swears escaped the empire, before he swept China's legs out from under him and threw him to the floor, hand still gripping his hair and now capturing the arm he wasn't holding under his knee. Practically sitting on the older nation, England licked his upper lip and tasted blood. "I don't think we've had a fight like this since the Opium War." he growled lowly, unwilling to let China go to wipe the blood from his face, instead letting it drip onto his back.
"Then it would be long over due." Snapped China, twisting his whole body sharply to one side and throwing all his weight behind it so that England collided with the floor. He barely registed the singular word, Opium War, when it should have been plural. Attempting to jump up, England's hand was still in his hair, and their clothes were tangled together, sending China crashing back down with a shriek. Deciding he'd had quite enough, England drew his sword in a flash of silver and held it at China's neck, hard enough to nick the skin, causing the other nation to go still. The hot blood from England's nose was dripping onto his face, and China screwed up his face in disgust, glaring at the skirtingboard and refusing to meet England's eyes.
"Look at me, China." England said in low and dangerous tones. When he didn't get what he wanted immediately, he tilted the angle of the sword to force the Asian's chin to face him. "I said look at me."
China smiled, his eyes on the ceiling somewhere above England's head. "What are you going to do,Britannia? Cut me until I bleed to death if I do not?"
England's eyes narrowed. "How much do you love Hong Kong, China?"
Clenching his teeth, China swallowed the lump that always rose in his throat. His beloved little brother... grown up by now, and because of this nation he had missed it. Perhaps loosing the child for good.
"More years to the sentence?" He spat contemptuously, eyes still averted.
"An eternity if you keep this up." England replied, sniffing back blood as it clotted slowly.
"You won't last an eternity, England." China smiled, and it was ugly.
"And neither will you." the empire snarled back. "Have you noticed? While you fall from power and grace, I rise. If this has to become a matter of endurance, I assure you that I am stable enough to withstand a millennia more than this. Are you?"
"I am China." He hissed back, still with eyes averted; if it added insult, why not? "I have existed far longer than you ever will! And will withstand longer still!"
"Really? Even as the powers of Europe rip you apart at the seams? Even as your people become British citizens?" England smirked. "Admit it, you're part of a dying world. A relic of the past that is rotting from the inside. A contemporary of Rome, who has fallen some one-thousand three hundred years ago. But I am young still, ever growing, and it will be a while before I fall."
China's expression became a mix of contempt and nostalgia, for reason England couldn't quite comprehend. "Rome." He scoffed. "I thought I recognised your style from somewhere England. No wonder, with such a role model. You're quite the mimic."
England stared. And kept staring, even as the realisation crept onto his features. He did not relinquish his grip, however, instead his knuckles whitened on the hilt of his sword. "I am better than Rome. I told him I would be, and I am. Don't compare me to him."
China finally looked England straight in the eye, earthy brown against acid green. "Why not?" He said quietly. Maliciously. "The only difference to me is appearance. And perhaps he was more courteous."
A sickening crack resounded as England's fist snapped China's face sideways, followed by a sharp smell of metal.
"That is enough." England growled. "I am not Rome. Rome is nothing. I am far worse." he leaned down to whisper in China's ear. "Hong Kong is very, very small, China. So easy to hurt. I hate to think... Just one little accident, one mistake with a cargo of gunpowder and he will be half-dead within a week-"
It was below China to spit. Nevertheless, it was all England deserved, the worse form of insult, a mix of blood and saliva splattered across his face and in his eyes.
"You dare, and even the dogs won't touch your corpse once I'm through with you." He shrieked, thrashing under England's weight. The Empire swore softly as he was nearly thrown off, pinning down China's wrists instead.
"As it is, you won't have a corpse left to touch. I could let Russia know where you are." England personally didn't like the idea, but the point was that if China was going to be disobedient then he would have to face consequences. "We are rending you apart limb from limb already. In fact, my monopoly of your trade is probably the only reason you're still a country. So if I were you, I'd be a little more co-operative."
China's thrashing weakened but his shrieking continued, harsh strings of shaky Chinese punctuated with English words here and there, eventually dying down into rapid murmuring.
"Better." England nodded, getting off China but only letting go of his wrists once the other nation had gone still. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and clean up your mess. I'll be back in an hour with my things. Oh, and don't think you can escape." he paused in the doorway. "There is no way off this island, and I will find you."
With a swish of his coat tails, he left.