Still on the roof, Wrath looked down at the blonde that from this angle, looked like a moving carpet. It took a few more seconds to register, and when he saw England he shied back towards the center of the roof, lowering his head so he would not be seen.
His adopted big brother was not happy with him, he wagered.
Wrath continued to retreat to a corner on the roof like a naughty child that knew what was coming to him. He still didn't know what England's intentions were, but he knew they would hurt, whatever they were.
Wrath was able to witness yet again the superior power of England, the way the country effortlessly appeared on the roof after speaking some words. Wrath figured there was no use running now and stopped backing up, and stood before England, with his head bowed in shame.
He probably would had England moved to attack him, and the construction of his inhuman body would ensure that he survived the landing.
He was contrite, but nothing more than a rambunctious child, he was hesitant to accept physical punishment, more likely to run away from it. And that tone of voice that England had--it was as if he had raked him over hot coals. Biting his hairy lip, Wrath did not look up from the concrete roof as he said,
Wrath could not answer the country. Indeed, the Homunculus, in the typical manner of his species, had betrayed England's trust. There was the simple fact. There was no point to prideful justification of his actions. He did not want to submit to the judgment of England--on the other hand, the country had found him. Therefore, he must surrender.
"I have nothing more to say."
He dropped to one knee and lowered his head, indicating his surrender to the powerful nation.
Wrath was expecting the blow to be swift and decisive. But he was not expecting some of his hairs to be torn from his scalp. His eyes went wide while he hissed at the sharp tug, his facial muscles twisting into an expression of slight pain. He did not raise his stinging head, nor did he move against England, waiting for a lethal blow to follow.
Wrath understood that the nation had once again, shown him mercy, twice over. England was shielding him from the police, and he refused to kill him. Wrath was twice in the nation's debt. And heeding his words, the Homunculus leaped off the roof of the building, finding another foothold and from there vanishing from England's sight as the latter had wished.
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His adopted big brother was not happy with him, he wagered.
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He was contrite, but nothing more than a rambunctious child, he was hesitant to accept physical punishment, more likely to run away from it. And that tone of voice that England had--it was as if he had raked him over hot coals.
Biting his hairy lip, Wrath did not look up from the concrete roof as he said,
"I am sorry I beat your friend."
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"I have nothing more to say."
He dropped to one knee and lowered his head, indicating his surrender to the powerful nation.
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