intro / no event / aphro as desired

[featheredscones]

The room you've found yourself wandering into looks for all the world like an escape, because somehow you've gotten outside. There's no fancy beach resort or deserted island; just gentle rolling hills as far as the eye can see, and a small grove of shade trees. Under the trees lie a blanket and a cooler full of whatever your heart desires, as well

Comments

<3

[gewehrundblut]

He's not surprised by the fact that when he enters this room, he's found himself in a peaceful countryside. In fact, if anything, he's almost gotten used to the idea that opening a door means one will find themself in what seems to be a whole other place. It seems quiet, and isolated enough, so Prussia makes his way over to that grove of trees. He is, apparently, a special brand of oblivious, as he has yet to notice the England flying there

<3!

[featheredscones]

As part of his mutation, this England possesses senses developed well beyond the average nation, and so he is able to hear Prussia approaching as soon as he arrives. He's about to descend and ask him if he knows what the hell is going on here, but then Prussia starts undressing, and England's disgruntled greeting dies on his tongue. It's surprising enough that the other nation is stripping randomly, but when those wings unfold, England's own nearly miss a beat. Once he recovers, he's able to find a perch in one of the trees and merely watch curiously as Prussia attempts to fly. The wings must have newly grown, he thinks, because as far as he knows, none of the other nations have wings, and Prussia clearly has no idea what he's doing.

His presence is announced finally when he snorts in amusement and jumps from the tree; breaking his fall with a single beat of his wings so that he alights gracefully on his feet beside the other man. "You're doing it wrong."

Re: <3!

[gewehrundblut]

He sputters at the fact that someone saw him attempting this, wholly embarrassed. No, he is not trying to hide behind one of his wings, it's just that it's sunny here and he doesn't do well with sunlight. That's all. Finally he peers out from behind it, managing not to gasp at the sight of England... with wings of his own. Though he does desperately want to touch them; they look so soft and sleek. ".....Shut up," he finally grumbles out, sitting up and dusting the dirt off his arms, wings stretching back behind him.

It is a bit unfair, he thinks, that Arthur gets the cute wings while he gets stuck with the evil, demonic wings.

[featheredscones]

The fact that Prussia does indeed look like he's trying to hide causes him to smile a little, but he hides that behind his hand. Scratching his chin, he attempts to deny the gesture all together once he can get rid of that smile.

There's nothing evil or demonic about Prussia's wings, he would say if he knew what the other nation was thinking. Well... he might not have said it out loud, because that would be embarrassing, and England likes to avoid embarrassing moments. But at any rate, he's seen people with mutations that gave them much more inhuman-looking features. He studies them now, curiously, as he steps around Prussia. "How long have you had these?"

[gewehrundblut]

"Um, about a month..." He twists, following England's movements around him as much as possible, wings furling and pressing close to his back under the scrutiny. "Not quite sure. Why?" Honestly, all the studying is making him uncomfortable, to the point where his wings twitch against his back with his agitation. The sooner England is done, the happier he will be. It's hardly his fault he hasn't been able to magic wings onto himself at will since he was a child (after all, he has no reason to think this England isn't like the others he knows).

[featheredscones]

He shrugs and stops staring once it becomes clear that Prussia is uncomfortable. Even after all these years, he still knows the feeling.

Stepping back a bit, he apologises. "I'm sorry... I was just.. not expecting anyone else to develop a mutation like this. Have you told any of the others?" In truth... its a little exciting. Not many of the other nations have mutations, after all, and the majority of mutations don't come with such obvious physical manifestations.

[gewehrundblut]

"Mu... ta... tion...?" His eyebrows raise slowly, not at all comprehending what England might mean by that. Unless. Oh, that would make an absurd amount of sense, now wouldn't it? "You have no idea where we are, do you?"

Honestly, he would have thought that the first question would have been why he's wearing clothing that, if conversations with his brother have been any indication, are extremely old fashioned. Ah, well, this discussion should prove interesting, if nothing else, because his best guess at what England means is that he's expecting this to be a permanent change. Prussia... rather hopes not, because he likes being able to eat normal food and not feel hungry afterwards. Though the wings are nice (possibly because he can hide them with a bit of the magic inherent to this form), and the tail is great fun.

[featheredscones]

"Of course," he responds, as if it should be obvious. His eyes dart about the countryside, resting for a moment or two on the folded clothes before focusing back on the other nation. If he's starting to look a bit uneasy, it's because, no, he doesn't know where he is, and there is definitely something strange about this place. It's worrying enough that he can't seem to get anywhere without returning to the little stand of trees, but now that he's this close to Prussia, he's starting to feel... something else as well. Perhaps there's more to his mutation that simply the bat-like wings.

"...No. Do you know where we are?"

[gewehrundblut]

"One of the many rooms of a fucking hotel. Literally. It's a fucking hotel." He finally stands, heading back over to the blanket where his clothing lays all folded up. The red and white box intrigues him, and he hopes there's something good in there. If his cheer when he opens it is any indication, it is, as he pulls out a nice, chilled beer. After opening it and taking a long drink, he continues. "It's some kinda magical building that drags people here from everywhere imaginable -and I'm sure a few places that aren't- sometimes does weird things to us, and invariably makes us fuck like bunnies. I'm sure there's a room where that's literal too."

Prussia stoops over, digging through his coat pockets to see if he can't find any proof of his claims here, when he remembers that England's been flying and he might be thirsty. Why yes, he did just grab a bottle out of that cooler with his tail, to offer it to the older man. "Bier?"

[featheredscones]

"...'Does things to us'? As in... experimentation?" That sort of thing happens all too often, in his experience, so it's the first thing that pops into his head. He flushes darkly at the mention of fucking. Are they trying to force people to breed? If that's the case, whoever is doing this shouldn't expect much from a nation. "Who brings us here? Some sort of terrorist organisation?"

Whereas the appearance of a tail might have startled some, Arthur only raises an eyebrow and accepts the beer with a "Thanks." There is a momentary pause before he asks, "What else can you do? I feel... something." Arousal. But he can't say that out loud, of course. "A-and.. why are you wearing that old uniform..?"

[gewehrundblut]

"I dunno. It changes people. Ties us up. Weird shit like that." He has no clue as to why they're here or who is behind this, nor does he much care to think about it. "And again, I don't know. I just woke up here. I can't think of anyone I know who ended up here knowing how they came."

With a sigh, he straightens up, tail curling around his waist then up against his torso. No proof, but he's fairly certain this place will provide that sooner as opposed to later. Just how should he answer that first question? There is, of course, the cocky answer that will likely make this England storm off in a huff. Though, really, any variant of the exact answer might get the man to try to leave if he doesn't phrase it properly. "...Depends. Did you feel it before you were right next to me?" He's not sure if there's aphrodisiacs in the air here or not. He can't really smell them, but then, in some rooms the scent is masked by others from the environment.

"And I'm wearing it because it was 1815 where I'm from. Lemme guess; 20-something for you,

[featheredscones]

He is vaguely alarmed by all of this, especially since it's sounding like Prussia has been here for some time and hasn't yet been able to escape. "How do we get out of here?"

The meadow doesn't smell all that odd to England. The grass is green and sweet, the earth healthy, and the air clean. In truth, perhaps that is the odd part. It is almost too perfect, in a world made polluted by human hands. If there is something here that doesn't smell as it ought to, it's Prussia himself. "No. Before you arrived, I felt nothing." And then, in a very un-Englandlike gesture, he leans toward the other nation and gives him a bit of a sniff; nearly shivering as the concentrated breath of pheromones floods his lungs. "....It's definitely you. But... that can't be..." Heightened senses or not, he's never been able to smell what he thinks he's smelling.

He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it, face flushing as his arousal grows. "Y...Yes. You time traveled?" Good Lord, this has to be a dream of some sort.

[gewehrundblut]

"Out of this room? Either there's a door somewhere, or it won't reappear til we fuck. Out of this hotel period? Refer back to my earlier answers to how we got here and why." His mouth pulls to the side in a wry sort of smirk. It's definitely not for a lack of trying to escape that he's still here.

Then England is sniffing him, which is just weird, and he steps back as quickly as possible. "I wouldn't do that! I haven't figured out how to consciously stop that yet, so... um..." Awkward moment; he's having one. One hand rubs the back of his neck, mussing the finer hairs there, as he looks away. In fact, he's going to relocate over to underneath a nearby tree, because he'd rather not inadvertently 'drug' England until he's out of his mind with lust. This is quite possibly the most unawesome aspect of the whole thing; not being able to really control the pheremones. Sure, he's at least gotten it down to where he can be within arms length of someone without setting them off, but deep, focused inhalations are, for the time being,

[featheredscones]

"W-we aren't going to fuck! What the hell are you talking about?!" If he was flushed before, he's red now. Not because of the idea of fucking, but because he wants to push Prussia down onto the blanket spread out on the grass, or shove him up against a tree. So when the other nation backs away, England is both glad to be out of range of those pheromones and disappointed that he's no longer near. This place is absurd.

Does he look like he's about to flee? He's thinking about it. "S-some people can't stop their abilities... it's...not..." If it wouldn't be completely rude to do so, he would take off; get as far away from Prussia as possible before he simply jumps the albino. He's familiar enough with new mutants to know that such an action would probably be hurtful.

Twisting off the cap of the forgotten beer in his hand, he tucks it into his pocket before taking a swig in hopes that the cool liquid will calm him.

[gewehrundblut]

That response makes him cross his arms, settling down at the base of the tree and folding his wings around himself a bit protectively. "I'm just saying! Some rooms here the door locks or disappears until some kind of sex happens." He has yet to test to see if masturbation would count, but he has no reason as to why it wouldn't.

He wouldn't blame England at all if he fled. In fact, it makes more sense to him than how others stuck around, even after seeing what had happened to him. "i can hide everything else; you think I'd be able to figure out how to cut it with the... that," he mumbles. The lack of control there grates on him. Sure, his personality speaks of someone with no discipline, but he's Germanic. There's a sense of discipline buried down there, and in him part of it manifests in how he hates having his own actions out of his control.

Alas, his own beer sits abandoned by his clothing, left alone in his haste to move away from England. Woe.

[featheredscones]

"That makes no sodding sense!" he bursts out, his own wings sweeping wide in his agitation. Normally he's well-practised in controlling their movement (which is why he was able to hide them for centuries), but suddenly the entire world seems to have been turned on end and he can make neither head nor tails of anything. They quiver as his emotions start to roil. Perhaps fucking Prussia wouldn't be such a bad idea. It would get rid of a lot of his energy, at least.

Then, he's hit with a sudden realisation, and he takes a long drink of his beer; chugging over half of it in one go before sitting down on the blanket. With a sigh, he draws in his wings again to fold them in almost a mirror image of Gilbert's. "If you are truly from the year 1815, then you won't even know what's happening to you." Or what England assumes is happening, at least. "You never had a mutation, even back then, and not the last time I saw you. Th-that's... Well, in humans, it's caused by genetics--heredity. God only knows why some of us have them."