from fairest creatures
Characters: OU!England and you!
Setting: Kitchen or Floor 19, the new library.
Format: Starting prose, but I'm flexible, baby. ;D
Summary: He's a bit disturbed by the lack of tea and history textbooks in this tower.
Warnings: England in the kitchen (but don't worry, only for tea!), probably language, and flying mint bunny.
Kitchen;;
He hadn't the faintest idea exactly how that trunk had been packed to encompass all of his basic needs, but he had never been more thankful for it as he was when he arrived in the kitchen and realized that this place lacked a supply of tea. He had brought his own tea down regardless of what he expected to find -- he trusted his own supply and brands far more than anything the tower had to offer -- but it was troubling to know that he'd probably end up having to ration what he had.
A deep sigh fell from the kingdom as he leaned back against the counter next to the stove, where the water waited to boil. He only hoped that the power wouldn't blip out while the stove was on, as it had seemed to be keen on doing this month thus far -- with the rate at which his nerves were fraying, he needed a cup of jasmine post-haste.
Floor 19;;
"There's nothing up there, either?" he questioned, craning his head back to look at the winged green creature hovering near the highest shelves. When the soft voice answered in the negative, England's generous eyebrows furrowed in perplexity.
The entire history section was gone from this library. Something about that disturbed him to his core. Those weren't just dry retellings of things that most people didn't care about anymore; those were his memories. The story of his life, and the lives of all of his comrades, as well. Stories that would die if they weren't passed down.
Chunks had been carved out of some other sections as well, it seemed. England was skeptical that the removals were at random, especially with one section all but eradicated. The pudgy rabbit fluttered down to rest on his shoulder, and he absently reached up a hand to stroke its head as he pondered. To anyone without a sight for fairies and the supernatural, it would look more like a gesture of madness to empty air at the side of his head, but England had more important things to worry about at the moment than his perceived sanity.
Setting: Kitchen or Floor 19, the new library.
Format: Starting prose, but I'm flexible, baby. ;D
Summary: He's a bit disturbed by the lack of tea and history textbooks in this tower.
Warnings: England in the kitchen (but don't worry, only for tea!), probably language, and flying mint bunny.
Kitchen;;
He hadn't the faintest idea exactly how that trunk had been packed to encompass all of his basic needs, but he had never been more thankful for it as he was when he arrived in the kitchen and realized that this place lacked a supply of tea. He had brought his own tea down regardless of what he expected to find -- he trusted his own supply and brands far more than anything the tower had to offer -- but it was troubling to know that he'd probably end up having to ration what he had.
A deep sigh fell from the kingdom as he leaned back against the counter next to the stove, where the water waited to boil. He only hoped that the power wouldn't blip out while the stove was on, as it had seemed to be keen on doing this month thus far -- with the rate at which his nerves were fraying, he needed a cup of jasmine post-haste.
Floor 19;;
"There's nothing up there, either?" he questioned, craning his head back to look at the winged green creature hovering near the highest shelves. When the soft voice answered in the negative, England's generous eyebrows furrowed in perplexity.
The entire history section was gone from this library. Something about that disturbed him to his core. Those weren't just dry retellings of things that most people didn't care about anymore; those were his memories. The story of his life, and the lives of all of his comrades, as well. Stories that would die if they weren't passed down.
Chunks had been carved out of some other sections as well, it seemed. England was skeptical that the removals were at random, especially with one section all but eradicated. The pudgy rabbit fluttered down to rest on his shoulder, and he absently reached up a hand to stroke its head as he pondered. To anyone without a sight for fairies and the supernatural, it would look more like a gesture of madness to empty air at the side of his head, but England had more important things to worry about at the moment than his perceived sanity.