Characters: Francis and YOU. Setting: Floor Six Format: Either is fine. I’ll match. Summary: Francis needed a bit of nature. Francis got a bit more than what he asked for. Warnings: CRACK! Oh… Maybe language?
Canada had warned Prussia about the forest and only having one useable hand he walked through it easily with his broadsword strapped to his right hip. He'd wanted to at least feel like he could go for a walk outside so the strange forest was where he was.
Cutting down what he thought was a deer path, he caught a glimpse of familiar blond hair. He couldn't help but grin and sneak up behind the French man and grinned.
The Frenchman had found a stream cutting through the undergrowth of the forest and was currently following it in hopes that it would lead somewhere. Like a staircase or a clearing. Somewhere where he could gather his thoughts. This stream had been Francis' first stroke of brilliance. Recalling his first trip to the forest the memory of running water off in the distance had been audible.
So this only made sense, really. He'd hidden in the underbrush to keep an eye out for the shape-shifting creatures that called this place home. The only problem with being near running water was the fact he couldn't hear every rustle and crack.
That was unfortunate, very unfortunate, for France's man card. Yelping, high and mighty (girly), he swung around to give his friend a scathing look and a smack on the chest. "You son of a bitch! Oh my heart..." Sniffing, he tried to regain his composure, muttering now. "Again? What do you mean again?"
"Again I mean your sense of direction is shit and you'd get lost in a wet paper bag." He snickered and rubbed his chest from the smack France had given him. "So, having a nice waltz through the woods and hiding in shrubs?" he teased and put a hand in his pocket.
He didn't comment on France's wonderfully girly scream, but he was wary. A noise like that would bring out all kinds of nasty creatures that'd want a snack on the two of them.
For a moment Francis was unresponsive. He still looked like he wanted to throttle the pale man he called his friend but there were more pressing matters, namely the animals that probably heard his cry. Those animals would take a chunk out of his thigh like a famished man devouring a turkey leg and Francis was not interested in being a meal. Not at all.
When a few minutes passed and they were still intact he finally replied to Prusse's lovely queries.
"This forest goes forever. It wouldn't surprise me if I were to walk and walk for days and not find a wall. Paper bag," he scoffed. Sniffing, he looked at the stream once more. "Following the stream should lead to the staircase." A pause, then sounding more confused than ever; "What are you doing out here?"
"Going for a walk, got tired of being up in the cathedral. But the main staircase is that way." He turned and pointed behind him and a little to the left of where the two both stood. "It's not far, and after that scream I'm glad I brought my sword." he grinned and turned on his heel, following the babbling brook he noticed the more familiar deer trail that wound its way back to the main staircase.
"You need to spend more time out in the woods France, getting soft and domestic in your old age?"
"I've visited the Cathedral," he replied simply. It was said in that and I will go there only if necessary from here on out for it is a wretched, frightening place sort of tone. His attention was too caught by Prussia's other comment. The one about the exit being that'a-way. Relief, sweet and almost tangible coursed through him and he sighed, leaning against a tree. Said good news kept Francis from trying to smack the man again but he did roll his eyes.
"I probably scared them off, sot. Either way-" He stood straighter, looking around just for the hell of it, or because the scream wouldn't have scared a damned thing away and he was cautious. So very cautious. "I came out here to enjoy nature. It is not my fault I forgot a gun." He was not soft. "I could give you a run with a sword and don't you forget."
Grumbling, he started off in the direction Prusse had indicated before prodding his pride. "Pest." Not like he was grateful, oh no...
"well if you'd like to continue frolicking I can play knight in shining armor and wander around here while you become one with nature." he teased and wandered along.
"You might be able to but with that tiny rapier you used to enjoy so much you couldn't do much against me." Now Prussia was just goading him, it wasn't meant with any malice, it was just how the albino was.
"I do not need a bulky sword to slit your belly open like a fish gaping out of water. Et non, I believe that I have had enough exploring nature for a month, luck permitting I do not lose my head to something else in this Godforsaken Tower." All of this was muttered in hushed tones over his shoulder. His eyes were narrowed a bit, the goading successful.
And then a snort, ruffled feathers smoothed out easily enough. Pushing a branch aside that nearly smacked him in the face he grimaced. "My boots are going to be ruined" he lamented to himself. Not to mention his jeans. What had he been thinking?
"Not that I am ungrateful you stumbled across me..."
"Nice try France, if I remember you tend to flinch away from conflict than to run headlong into it." he smirked and continued along, France was such a good friend to Prussia, even though at times they both antagonized the other. It was a love-hate relationship.
"Boots can be cleaned, if you were coming into the woods why did you bring clothes like that then?"
He gave a hurrumph over his shoulder. "I would consider it a worthy cause to chase you into the pool and hold you down until the bubbles stopped." This was completely in jest really. Francis without his trying friend would be a very sad thing. That didn't stop him from trying to whack the albino in the face with a branch he had to duck under.
Very love/hate.
"I only have nice clothes! I would rather wear boots and denim than loafers and a nice slack, non?" Because this was his 'sporty' look. Stopping for a moment--he thought he'd heard a noise off in the distance--he pressed up against a tree and grimaced. Hushed now, "Shall we break into a run now or wait until whatever is out there is gnawing on our ankles?"
"Oh Francis, you don't really mean that you'd miss me too much if I died in the pool." Gilbert winked and ducked the branch France let go, raising an eyebrow in the process before standing and making sure France didn't have any more branches in his arsenal.
"You really need to invest in some clothing for doing more practical things like walking in the woods or cleaning." The noise caught Gilberts attention but he wasn't worried. He had a broadsword, his hand gun and an extra clip of ammunition on him. Not wanting to use the gun or sword he had his bootknife but that was only good for close combat.
Was it really smart of the Tower to grant someone like Prussia a trunk full of booze and weapons? Even without centuries of knowledge about the man it should have been commonsense to not mix the two if one really was concerned about the safety of the lost-world refugee or the ragtag group of OTHER lost-world refugees.
He was going to ignore the practicality of his clothing being questioned by Rambo over here. He was much more interested in following this trail back to the staircase to reprimand. Nodding at the suggestion he headed forward, careful of his footing to avoid stepping on any fallen branches.
"Smartest thing you have said all day, I will admit..."
"Oh shut up. I could leave you here in your nice jeans and shirt for something to gnaw on your ankles." he mock threatened. He wouldn't but it was a good threat, he knew Francis wouldn't be quiet so catty if he was actually threatening to leave him there.
GIlbert didn't stop, making his was for the exit and drawing his sword when a bush nearby rustled and shifted.
"That isn't fair, Prusse. You understand as well as I that you find my ankles insanely attractive," he replied half-way easily; lips curving into a soft sort of grin. A wink. It was completely facetious and all but Francis couldn't stop himself.
He was feeling halfway good about this on the right track thing when a bush rattled on near them, giving him due cause to PAUSE. "Shit... I would rather have a possessed bush. Squirrels are spry--"
"Yes your dainty girly ankles" Prussia smirked wickedly and held his sword at the ready. Watching he noticed soemthing that looked like a white bunny hop out.
"Ah... it's just a rabbit." he sighed and took a step toward it. When he did the rabbit hissed showing massive fangs and a maw that looked like it belonged on some alien creature.
"NOT A BUNNY, RUN!" he yelled and slashed at the thing when it leapt at his throat. The sword cleaved the creature's head clean from it's body and Prussia was already running by the time the thing's body had hit the ground. "Dear god, let's get the fuck out of here!" he said and made sure he had a firm grip on Francis' wrist as he crashed through the undergrowth along the path.
The retort died in his throat at the sight of those gaping jaws and the less than horrifying fangs. Perhaps he yelped, perhaps he didn't; all he knew is that he didn't need to be told twice to run as fast as he could. Prusse was spry which meant the Frenchman's effort had to be exercised unless he wanted his wrist torn out of socket.
It wasn't going to help his reputation, but Francis was good at running. Retreating. Saving his own skin. Etc. As long as he lived he would stand by the excuse that this was nothing to be shamed by - after all, he was still around, no? It had been awhile though and he was so focused on going forward that he wasn't bothering to look around.
Cutting down what he thought was a deer path, he caught a glimpse of familiar blond hair. He couldn't help but grin and sneak up behind the French man and grinned.
"Lost again Francis?"
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So this only made sense, really. He'd hidden in the underbrush to keep an eye out for the shape-shifting creatures that called this place home. The only problem with being near running water was the fact he couldn't hear every rustle and crack.
That was unfortunate, very unfortunate, for France's man card. Yelping, high and mighty (girly), he swung around to give his friend a scathing look and a smack on the chest. "You son of a bitch! Oh my heart..." Sniffing, he tried to regain his composure, muttering now. "Again? What do you mean again?"
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He didn't comment on France's wonderfully girly scream, but he was wary. A noise like that would bring out all kinds of nasty creatures that'd want a snack on the two of them.
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When a few minutes passed and they were still intact he finally replied to Prusse's lovely queries.
"This forest goes forever. It wouldn't surprise me if I were to walk and walk for days and not find a wall. Paper bag," he scoffed. Sniffing, he looked at the stream once more. "Following the stream should lead to the staircase." A pause, then sounding more confused than ever; "What are you doing out here?"
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"You need to spend more time out in the woods France, getting soft and domestic in your old age?"
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"I probably scared them off, sot. Either way-" He stood straighter, looking around just for the hell of it, or because the scream wouldn't have scared a damned thing away and he was cautious. So very cautious. "I came out here to enjoy nature. It is not my fault I forgot a gun." He was not soft. "I could give you a run with a sword and don't you forget."
Grumbling, he started off in the direction Prusse had indicated before prodding his pride. "Pest." Not like he was grateful, oh no...
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"You might be able to but with that tiny rapier you used to enjoy so much you couldn't do much against me." Now Prussia was just goading him, it wasn't meant with any malice, it was just how the albino was.
"This pest is an awesome pest."
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And then a snort, ruffled feathers smoothed out easily enough. Pushing a branch aside that nearly smacked him in the face he grimaced. "My boots are going to be ruined" he lamented to himself. Not to mention his jeans. What had he been thinking?
"Not that I am ungrateful you stumbled across me..."
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"Boots can be cleaned, if you were coming into the woods why did you bring clothes like that then?"
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Very love/hate.
"I only have nice clothes! I would rather wear boots and denim than loafers and a nice slack, non?" Because this was his 'sporty' look. Stopping for a moment--he thought he'd heard a noise off in the distance--he pressed up against a tree and grimaced. Hushed now, "Shall we break into a run now or wait until whatever is out there is gnawing on our ankles?"
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"You really need to invest in some clothing for doing more practical things like walking in the woods or cleaning." The noise caught Gilberts attention but he wasn't worried. He had a broadsword, his hand gun and an extra clip of ammunition on him. Not wanting to use the gun or sword he had his bootknife but that was only good for close combat.
"....Let's head for the exit."
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He was going to ignore the practicality of his clothing being questioned by Rambo over here. He was much more interested in following this trail back to the staircase to reprimand. Nodding at the suggestion he headed forward, careful of his footing to avoid stepping on any fallen branches.
"Smartest thing you have said all day, I will admit..."
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GIlbert didn't stop, making his was for the exit and drawing his sword when a bush nearby rustled and shifted.
"I hope that's a squirrel..."
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He was feeling halfway good about this on the right track thing when a bush rattled on near them, giving him due cause to PAUSE. "Shit... I would rather have a possessed bush. Squirrels are spry--"
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"Ah... it's just a rabbit." he sighed and took a step toward it. When he did the rabbit hissed showing massive fangs and a maw that looked like it belonged on some alien creature.
"NOT A BUNNY, RUN!" he yelled and slashed at the thing when it leapt at his throat. The sword cleaved the creature's head clean from it's body and Prussia was already running by the time the thing's body had hit the ground. "Dear god, let's get the fuck out of here!" he said and made sure he had a firm grip on Francis' wrist as he crashed through the undergrowth along the path.
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It wasn't going to help his reputation, but Francis was good at running. Retreating. Saving his own skin. Etc. As long as he lived he would stand by the excuse that this was nothing to be shamed by - after all, he was still around, no? It had been awhile though and he was so focused on going forward that he wasn't bothering to look around.
"Where are we, Prusse?!"
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