[closed] Monotony
Who: Norway mystisk_norge, Denmark yndigt_land, Iceland til_himnarikis
What: Cabin Fever or something
When: Tomorrow morning, around 11am
Where: The Game room
Warnings: Language, some violence
Every single day was the same. There was no change, no variety, no air, no sky, no escape. Every day Norway would wake up in the same bed, look at the same clock, see the same snow covered hall way when he eventually left his room. It was starting to grate on his nerves and ware his patience and tolerance thin. Everything was starting to annoy him, every fucking little thing about the god damn gilded prison that they were confined in.
That morning he'd woken up and tossed the clock against the wall - it might have been broken but he didn't check. When he took a shower he turned the water up until it scalded his skin, ignoring the reddened tone of his flesh when he got out of the shower. It'd be gone by the time he got ready and dressed. As he brushed his hair he contemplated going to visit Iceland or someone, maybe Finland even. There had to be some break from this mind numbing cycle or he was going to go insane. Of course, it wasn't much in Norway's nature to go seeking out people so his plans for that were quickly forgotten.
So here it was, 11 am, dressed and ready for...well hell if he knew. He wanted something. Cigarettes...there was this sudden inexplicable craving for nicotine he'd been having lately and that too wasn't helping to ease his troubled mind. What else could content him? Alcohol was always good for these sorts of things, but was he really going to go get sloshed at 11 something in the morning? It wasn't like he was aiming for some sort of good behavior award or needed to worried about being judged around this place, so what the hell did it matter when he drank? That in mind Norway made his way to the kitchen, grabbed a couple bottles of whatever drink was above 60 proof and made his way to the game room.
What was the point of this all again? They were supposed to be getting better or some shit like that right? Better from something...something...nations, what did it even matter if they were deluded into thinking they were countries, should that be the case? It wasn't like such a belief would hurt anyone. None of it made sense anyway, there was no point in thinking about it. Norway ground the tip of his pool cue then spun the cap off the bottle of...apparently vodka...that he'd grabbed and took a swig. He put it aside and set up the pool balls on the table.
What: Cabin Fever or something
When: Tomorrow morning, around 11am
Where: The Game room
Warnings: Language, some violence
Every single day was the same. There was no change, no variety, no air, no sky, no escape. Every day Norway would wake up in the same bed, look at the same clock, see the same snow covered hall way when he eventually left his room. It was starting to grate on his nerves and ware his patience and tolerance thin. Everything was starting to annoy him, every fucking little thing about the god damn gilded prison that they were confined in.
That morning he'd woken up and tossed the clock against the wall - it might have been broken but he didn't check. When he took a shower he turned the water up until it scalded his skin, ignoring the reddened tone of his flesh when he got out of the shower. It'd be gone by the time he got ready and dressed. As he brushed his hair he contemplated going to visit Iceland or someone, maybe Finland even. There had to be some break from this mind numbing cycle or he was going to go insane. Of course, it wasn't much in Norway's nature to go seeking out people so his plans for that were quickly forgotten.
So here it was, 11 am, dressed and ready for...well hell if he knew. He wanted something. Cigarettes...there was this sudden inexplicable craving for nicotine he'd been having lately and that too wasn't helping to ease his troubled mind. What else could content him? Alcohol was always good for these sorts of things, but was he really going to go get sloshed at 11 something in the morning? It wasn't like he was aiming for some sort of good behavior award or needed to worried about being judged around this place, so what the hell did it matter when he drank? That in mind Norway made his way to the kitchen, grabbed a couple bottles of whatever drink was above 60 proof and made his way to the game room.
What was the point of this all again? They were supposed to be getting better or some shit like that right? Better from something...something...nations, what did it even matter if they were deluded into thinking they were countries, should that be the case? It wasn't like such a belief would hurt anyone. None of it made sense anyway, there was no point in thinking about it. Norway ground the tip of his pool cue then spun the cap off the bottle of...apparently vodka...that he'd grabbed and took a swig. He put it aside and set up the pool balls on the table.