a totter'd weed of small worth held

[pixietea]

Characters: England and all of you!
Setting: Floor fifteen, the workshop or floor thirteen, the cathedral.
Format: Starting prose. Have action? Will match!
Summary: Everyone has different ways of dealing with stress. England's chief outlets are consumption of tea, and a seam well-sewn.
Warnings: None yet (aside from England having girly hobbies and me

Comments

floor 13!

[latomatetas]

Someone was sitting a few pews in front of her spot, Spain noticed as she walks back in to pray after a long search in the tower. She hasn't given up hope on finding Romana, but it was starting to take a toll on her, and she spends more time in the lounge floor or the cathedral to rest and pray.

She approached him, her footsteps muffled, her curiosity fueled when she saw what he was doing.

"Hello there... don't think I've seen you around before?"

[pixietea]

The stifling nature of the church swallowed up the woman's footsteps, so England didn't notice her presence until she started speaking. Of course, said notice came with a bit of alarm, seeing as it seemed that she had appeared behind him from out of nowhere.

He turned quickly in his seat to look at her and narrowed his eyes a little, brows furrowing. She looked dreadfully familiar. Maybe he was just getting old (hah, and people said he had no sense of humour). "I don't doubt that such is the case," he agreed. "I have not bothered with putting myself out in the open as of late, and this place is certainly large enough that it's sometimes difficult to find familiar faces."

Unless you keep track of room assignments or network posts, anyways. England, however, does no such thing.

[latomatetas]

Spain nodded. The tower was expanding, and more often than not, there were new people that Spain might have missed, this man included.

"May I have a seat?"

[pixietea]

Did she mean next to him? He didn't mind, but, it was a huge room; surely she could conduct her intended business in one of the other pews? Or did she really intend to converse with him?

"Of course," answered England after a moment. He shifted following that, turning to face front again so that he could bow his head over his embroidery once more and let the woman choose her seat without worry of scrutiny.

Floor 13!

[eastern_awsum]

Prussia hadn't been himself. Even now after everything had settled down and he'd found himself not replaying the same routine and believing that the tower was a good place he'd settled into a monotony of wandering the halls and floors like an overly grumpy ghost.

The cathedral was one of the few places that made him feel nearly human once again. But even the cathedral pressed in on him, reminding him of how he was trapped and merely waiting for judgement if he did eventually fade from the tower.

Ghosting by the pew Arthur was in the colour of the thread caught his attention. It was a nice colour, especially since the rest of the tower lacked it.

"Nice colour choice."

[pixietea]

England had started to regain a bit of his normal pace by the time Prussia came along, agile fingers working the needle through the fabric with the utmost care. He pushed a little too hard on the eye end of the needle at the sound of Prussia's voice and paused to look up at the man, momentarily stilling in his work.

"Got an eye for design now, have you?" questioned the Englishman, the normal sarcasm in his voice lazy from something slightly resembling relaxation. He still found it in himself to give the other nation a wondering half-glare, though, as was par for the course when Arthur was dealing with Gilbert.

He didn't verbalize the concern in the expression (because he wasn't concerned about Prussia, that was ridiculous), but something about the Germanic man seemed off to him.

[eastern_awsum]

Prussia shrugged, putting his hands in the pockets of his his rumpled coat. not that it mattered, it wasn't like they hadn't seen him in the same outfit daily for the past fifty years.

"I just said it was a nice colour." Gilbert muttered and didn't bother to give England a glare in return. He just didn't feel like it.

He watched England's hands with the thread for a few more moment, enjoying the brightness of the colour in the dreariness of the cathedral.

[pixietea]

The halfhearted response gave the glare a turn for curious more than anything else, but England didn't say anything in return, returning his gaze to his embroidery. He continued stitching along with the red for a few moments in silence, letting Prussia watch him without comment.

Eventually, though, his mouth pulled into a bit of a troubled grimace and he graced Prussia with his attentions once more. "You may sit, if you would like," he offered with a note of discomfort. What had gotten into the usually-boisterous man? Perhaps he was still feeling the effects of the experiment. ...Not that England cared, of course, but honestly, no one seemed to be acting themselves anymore.

Floor 15

[isnotagiraffe]

Taiki was walking through floor fifteen, which was about as close he could get to floor seventeen without feeling sick. He found this room interesting, though he did not know how to use most the things in it.

He noticed that someone was in the room and went to nod politely to them before he realised he knew them. "Hello mister Kirkland." He smiled brightly, he tried to think back to his last conversation with the man, he was sure that was before he had started feeling strange. He hoped he hadn't been rude to him, because he had enjoyed their conversation.

[pixietea]

Thankfully England heard the footsteps, or he might have made a mess of his so-far immaculate cut in the fabric. He didn't anticipate that it would be someone he knew, but at least the voice wasn't cause for alarm.

He turned in his seat, away from his almost-square, to look over at Taiki. The boy was given a weary-looking (but no less genuine) smile for his greeting. "Taiki. Good day," England said politely, removing his hands from both fabric and scissors for the sake of courtesy. "Have you been well? You were not part of those dreadful experiments, I hope."

It was probably a bit of a stretch to hope that, but England's cynicism hadn't totally overtaken his weathered heart yet.

[isnotagiraffe]

"Good day." He smiled back and then his smile faded and he bowed his head. "I was." For a moment he looked like he was about to cry, he was still realing from what he had done, even though Kirin could not commit violence he had told Gohran to hurt people...

And he had took his roomate with him to his death. "How have you been mister Kirkland... did they experiment on you as well?"

[pixietea]

The former empire's expression immediately turned to concern, and he turned in his chair entirely to give Taiki his full attention. "I was part of it, yes," he affirmed, "Though it mostly entailed a bunch of self-pitying rubbish and utter refusal to get out of bed in the morning. I'm alright." The random urge to start killing aside, it honestly was not too far from how he'd felt some times in the past, not that it was any less preposterous. The worst part of it (aside from all the wasted time, of course) had probably been his reward.

His experiences, however, were not what he was worried about. He fixed Taiki with a politely curious look. "Would you like to talk about it?" He didn't know what being in any of the other experimental groups meant (aside from the "special" group -- that one was fairly obvious), but this whole awful occurrence was more dangerous to someone with a young mentality, no matter how they were messed with.