~Rebuilding Civilization~

The world was on fire. Countries waging all out wars against former allies. Treaties broken. Alliances dissolved. Each nation fended for themselves, and no other. Even former neutral countries such as Switzerland and Sweden were consumed by it. No one could claim to be neutral at this time and age. No one could escape the war. It was like smoke filling up inside a small apartment with all the windows and doors closed. You can run from it for only a little while until it overcomes you completely.

It was sickening. Not only to the people inside the nations, but the personified nations themselves. Looking back at this world wide war, England had to wonder whether or not it was even worth it to continue fighting. He could remember times of happiness. Times where not everyone was on friendly terms, but they all got along just fine. Sure, there were arguments constantly, but that's what made their friendships stronger. Now, the world conferences didn't even occur anymore because no one could afford to come. And even if they could afford to come, they wouldn't because they couldn't ever look their former friends in the eye.

Whatever had happened to them? A longing for the past was always there in England's mind, but none more so than now. Even it was for a day, he'd wish that all the nations could go back to what they used to be. France's and his fighting only left bruises and scratches that could be fixed with bandages. Words that were thrown via America and himself were only teasing happening between brothers. Tomatoes and scones were all that were thrown between Romano and England.

The Briton paced back and forth inside the underground room he was presently in. Was there any way to fix this misery? Or was the world to stay this way; a terrible, chaotic mess? Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. A grandfather clock stood next to the wall; one of the few remnants of what used to be England's house. England wasn't sure why he kept the clock; he could have easily replaced it with a newer one. But something about that old grandfather clock was so nostalgic and precious; he just couldn't get rid of it. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

An idea struck the English man, as his eyes trailed to the hands on the grandfather clock; completely mesmerized with the serene tick-tocking it gave out. He had always kept the most valuable item of his inside the clock. But all this war had made him forget all about it. His magic book. Now, his siblings, Norway, and Romania might all disregard him as being unable to use this magic correctly, but they were wrong. It's just that all the times he used that magic in front of them, he had had the wrong emotions overwhelming him. Hate, anger, revenge? These emotions would screw the magic up. He needed to have the right intentions, the right reasons to cast the magic. And if this need for change wasn't the right feeling for casting spells, then there was no right feeling.

England opened up the clock, finding his old, tattered cloak, his magic book, and a photo album. He had forgotten he had put that photo album there- he didn't even realize it was there when he was moving the grandfather clock into this room. England set the cloak and book down, and carefully picked up the photo album; slowly opening it up to the first page. Pictures of him, pictures of the other nations, pictures of the world. How it used to be. A picture of America grinning, giving a hero pose; with a hamburger in hand. A picture of Romano throwing tomatoes at Germany, while his younger brother Italy hugs the German. A picture of himself, smiling. One of his fairies had taken that picture without his knowing, and slipped it into the photo album.

England bit his lip, a sad look making its way onto his face. If anything, this made him more determined. Setting down the photo album, he took his cloak; pulling it over his body. He then took his magic book, flipping through it, until he found the right spell. It would cost him something vital, but he would sacrifice it. Anything to fix this horrid mess.

Words of ancient languages escaped his dry, chapped lips; a bright glow of a magic circle almost blinding him. The glow raised up into the air; it appearing high up in the dark, sky. It could be seen clear across the world; the glow replacing the dark sky for only a few moments throughout the whole entire world. When the light died down, everything was changed. England's body fell to the floor; cold to the touch, but his heart still beating.

When he woke up next, he was no longer England. His name was Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. He had no recollection of being a personification of a country. He had no memories of that world whatsoever. He was a teenage boy of the age of 17, living in a world filled with destroyed civilizations. He had a rather rough accent, with a bit of posh in it as well. His great grandfather was a little kid when World War 3 took place and destroyed the Earth. Now, his generation had to live with the consequences of that war.

The boy trudged out of his underground home, looking up at the grey, gloomy sky, filled with smoke. He held a knife in one hand, and he made his way through the rubbish to the nearest trade market. Here was where he would find his food for the day.

"What'cha got fer me today, hm?" He asked the person running the trade market.

On closer inspection, he found that it was someone he had never seen before. Newcomers were rare in these times, so they were either shun from the society they had come across or they were given a lot of attention.

"Oi, I've never seen ye 'round 'fore. Where a'e ye from?" Arthur inquired, shoving a hand in his pocket. "Where's tha regular lad who mans tha shop?"

[[ OKAY, SO THIS IS BASICALLY A ROLEPLAY WHERE THE CHARACTERS ARE RELATIVES OF THE SURVIVORS OF WW3, AND THE ROLE OF PERSONIFICATIONS OF COUNTRIES HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN TO THEM, BUT THEY DON'T REALIZE IT YET. AND IT'S UP TO THEM TO FIX THE DESTROYED WORLD AND STUFF. YEAH THAT SOUNDED KINDA LAME.... OTL WHATEVER. IF YOU GUYS HAVE QUESTIONS, JUST ASK ME. ]]

(( This idea. IS AMAZING. 8'D ArmeniaShallNowBeForeverAlone.Lol ))


Armenia paced frantically outside of Greece's house. Greece, the man who was like a brother to her. She was partially aware that blood was dripping from her lip where she was biting it. She was contemplating whether to turn right around the way she'd came and head home. Her hands trembled with anticipation. 'Will he listen to me? No-one else has.....all those I thought were friends....' She fought back another surge of tears threatening to spill. She thought back to the events that had lead her here in the first place. She didn't want to remember.....to remember that pain.....

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The brunette knocked happily at her Russian friend's house. She had come as soon as she had received word of his message. He had simply stated to 'drop by for a quick visit'. Armenia felt unsure as she waited at his doorstep. Why was Russia being so secretive? They were friends. Her smile brightened as the door opened, revealing a rather ruffled Russian. He literally looked like he had just rolled out of bed. His purple eyes narrowed and slight smile crept on his lips. "Ah, Armenia. Come inside da." He held the door open for her, gesturing her inside. She nodded gratefully, stepping into his vast living-room.

She heard to door shut and lock behind her. She turned to look back at the Russian, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I'm here. What did you need, Ivan?" His smile only grew. He stepped towards her slowly. He didn't stop until he was right in-front of her, making her tilt her head upwards to meet his gaze. "Yes, yes you are. And I am glad that you came, Alisia." He leaned in close, his breath smelling heavily of vodka. Armenia sweatdropped as the man stepped away, walking promptly over to one large window. He stared out as snow began to fall. She simply looked at him for a minute, confused by his strange behavior. She took a step towards him. "Russia. Wha-" He held a hand out behind him, signaling her silence. She froze in place, complying. After a long minute of silence, he finally spoke. "Armenia. I need to ask you something. Something important." The brunette nodded. "Of course. What is it?"

Russia turned slowly, eyes locking with hers as he did so. Armenia found herself gulping slightly. His purple eyes were filled with malicious intent. She didn't like that. Not one bit. He paced about the room. "Armenia. As you know, the world is in complete chaos right now." The Armenian nodded, signaling for him to continue. "Friends have become enemies, sibling have become deathly rivals. It's hard to find sanction in a world like this, da?" She nodded once more. "Yes, yes it is...." "And that is why I need you." He turned back to her, striding towards her slowly. "I need people like you, Alisia. People that will stand with me in a time like this. When the world is in this much chaos, the people will need us." His smile twisted cruelly. "People to seize power when the time is right." Armenia was frozen to the ground. Slowly, her voice rose in anger. "W-wait! We can't just take advantage of those who are suffering Ivan! You know tha-" "I do know that. But someone should keep order, and power." Her chocolate gaze narrowed. "And what makes you think it should be you? Someone like America is much more qualified for-" She gasped as a strong hand clenched around her throat, shoving her against a wall. She gasped for breath, eyes wide with horror at the rage on the Russian's face. He snarled. "Don't you dare mention that American! He is no good! You hear me?" She clawed at his hands, her face turning a shade of purple. His eyes widened, realizing what he was doing. The Russian released her, letting her slide to the floor. She shot a glare up at him, her brown eyes brimming with her own rage. "What....makes you think....I'll be part of your.....crazy plan?" She coughed, laughing bitterly. His eyes narrowed at the girl, his hands trembling with rage. "I suppose that's it then. Perhaps I won't be needing you after all." He turned away from her, shunning her. "You should go. Or I'll be forced to kill you." Armenia's eyes widened in disbelief. "B-but, Iva-" "GO!" He pointed savagely at the door. Nodding quickly, she dashed for the entrance, fumbling with the lock before stumbling out into the snow.

~

It was a long walk to Romania's house. She couldn't believe that Russia would propose some that crazy, and then threaten to kill her. How long had they been friends? How long had they supported each-other? Armenia fought back the urge to tear up. No. She would not cry, not now. That was why she was heading to see Romania, he would know what to do. He had always given her good advice.

Arriving at his house, she found that his door was already open. She welcomed herself inside, searching left and right for her friend. "Romania! It's me, Armenia! Are you home?" Silence was her only response. She stood still for a minute, contemplating whether or not she should return home. She was about to turn around when a muffled voice echoed through the house. "Yes, yes. This way." She followed the voice. Just as she had expected, there was her vermilion-eyed friend, bent over a desk of papers. His brows were scrunched together in intent focus. He didn't even turn around to acknowledge her presence. He motioned towards a chair. "Come come, sit." She sat in the chair as instructed, taking in his features. His small hat was discarded, and he looked as if he hand't slept for days, dark circles tracing his eyes. His eyes flicked to her only a second. "What do you need, Armenia?"

Armenia's eyes widened slightly. He was never that stand-offish to her. He would always greet her with a big smile and a warm hug. Her face fell. No-one seemed the same in times like these. She averted her gaze from him. "I just....needed someone to talk to-" Romania grumbled, rubbing at his temples. "Why at a time like this, you annoying girl?" She bit her lip. Why was he so angry? She spoke lowly. "It-...It's about Russia....." Her gaze flicked back to him as he snapped. He threw papers from his desk, eying her with a blood-thirsty rage. "Do you think I give a damn right now?! All you do is pester me with your whining! I, for one, am busy!" He snarled. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have your people butchered in a mass genocide?! Because that's all Bulgaria and Hungary have been inflicting on me lately! Pain and death!"

The brunette simply sat there, baffled by his outrage. Furious, she stood, locking chocolate eyes with vermilion. "Romania! You know that I know what that is like! Or did you already forget the Armenian Genocide?! I can't believe!..." She paused, sighing sadly. "First Russia, now you. What is going on?" The Romanian's furious glare did not descend from her. She shook her head at him. "I'll just go and-" That was when he slapped her. She fell to the floor, a sharp stinging sensation branded against her cheek. She stared up at him in disbelief. She was now aware of the tears spilling down her cheeks. Her horrified eyes locked with his as she snarled. "You! I trusted you! You were the first person to recognize my independence for God's sake! I trusted....." Shaking her head, she bolted out his door, not even turning to look back. She needed to see someone. Someone who wasn't consumed by this hateful war. "Greece. I'll go and see Greece. He'll know what to do." Then again, that's what she hoped.


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Alisia was torn from her thoughts by the opening of a door. There stood Greece. He narrowed his green eyes at her. "Oh, Armenia. This is a bad time...." Her eyes sagged. "Is it always a bad time? With all of you?" His eyes widened at her. He made his way toward her, gripping her shoulders firmly. "Alisia....please leave. I need you to leave." His voice sounded desperate. She stared at him for a long minute. "Why? What's wrong?" He turned his head, as if ashamed to look her in the eye. "It's.....my boss. He wants me to kill you."

Alisia's eyes widened in shock. She pushed the Greek away, stumbling backwards. He made to reach for her. "W-wait. You don't-" "STAY AWAY FROM ME!" She was crying now, the tears nearly blinding her vision. "I thought I could trust you! You and your damned boss!" She held the sides of her head. "And Romania! And Russia! Why-" She was interrupted as Greece's door flew open again. This time, the disgruntled form of his boss was revealed. He eyed her without sympathy. "Greece. What did I tell you?" Greece stared at him incredulously. "B-but, you know I can't!" His boss snarled. "I don't care!" He tossed a gun. Greece, caught it. "Kill her like I told you to, dammit! We can use her land and resources to make a stable base for ourselves!" He pointed, aiming at the target. "It's us, or her. You have no choice." Greece's hands trembled, his emerald eyes brimming with tears. He turned back to his friend, aiming the weapon. "Alisia....I'm so sorry." She back up slowly, horrified. "Heracles....no...." He closed his eyes, pressing his finger against the trigger. In the split second she had, Armenia ducked to run. He fired. She screamed. She fell to the ground in pain, eyes bulging. Clutching at her bleeding shoulder, she glanced back at the man she had once called her brother. He was crying. "Alisia..." Not glancing back, she hauled herself up and ran.


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Armenia paused, leaning against a house. She had no idea where she was. She cringed with pain at her bleeding shoulder, tears threatening to spill again. Everyone she knew was turning against her, even those she considered family. Raising her head, she scanned her surroundings. The architecture seemed faintly familiar. 'Where....?' After Greece had shot her, she had run until she couldn't run anymore. And now, here she was. She groped along the buildings, searching for what made this place seem so familiar.

Suddenly, the memories came flooding. A standoff, metal clanging against metal in a deadly brawl. She nearly fell over. Oh yes, she remembered this place now. She laughed cruelly. Of all places to end up, why here? She kept walking. She contemplated going to him, asking for his help. What would he say? Would he laugh and spit in her face? Would he kick her until she couldn't move anymore? Her face fell. She couldn't go home, she knew that. Greece was out to kill her, he would be waiting for her there. She laughed softly to herself as the familiar house came into view. Whether she liked it or not, he was her only chance. No-one was going to help. Her two main military supports, Greece and Russia, had already turned against her. She was alone.

She barely realized what she was doing as she slumped against the familiar wood of the door. She made an attempt to knock, though it was extremely faint. She was becoming weak from blood-loss. Using the reserves of her strength, she turned the handle, stumbling into the house. A smile crept on her lips at the sight of him; propped up on his couch, staring out the window. His head snapped to the door, green eyes widening; mask removed. Turkey. She chuckled softly. "It's not often I get to see you without your damned mask. That's a good look for you." He rushed to her falling form, gathering her in his arms. "What in the holy hell are you doing here, Alisia?!" She clutched against him tightly. "Heh....betrayed....you know, the usual...." She laughed sadly. He gripped her shoulders, locking eyes with her. "That is not funny!" His eyes widened with horror at her bullet wound. "What the hell happened to you?" She coughed, trails of blood seeping from her mouth. "Greece....shot me......"


The Turk stared at her in complete disbelief. "He.....shot you? Why?" "His boss.....wanted me dead.....I....had nowhere else to go...." She coughed again; more blood. He shook his head, pulling her closer. "I can't believe it. The MY BELOVED." She stared at him, feeling slightly confused. "Why....so nice....all of a sudden?" He only chuckled, running his fingers through her soft hair. "Did I ever tell you?" She grew more confused. "Tell me....what?" "That......That I'm sorry. For everything." She laughed bitterly. "You're just saying that because I'm dying." Her confusion only grew more as he shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "I don't say things I don't mean. You know that. Besides," he leaned in towards her ear, whispering, "I'll be dead soon." Her eyes widened. "W...why?!" He chuckled. "Russia. I swear, the man's gone insane." His eyes brimmed with sadness. "This place will be bombed before long. I cannot stop him." Armenia's eyes fell, more tears brimming. She rested her head under his chin, letting the tears fall. "So....we're both dead meat....." He stiffened slightly from her sudden affection, but rested his arms around her slowly. He placed his face against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. "I can think of worse ways to die though." She laughed at him, punching his chest lightly. "You're the weirdest flirt I've ever met." He chuckled in response.


The two sat in silence for long minutes. A low rumbling filled their ears. Armenia perked up, though Turkey's strong grip held her down next to him. "They're here." She could hear the roar of jets as the flew overhead. The bombs could be heard as they exploded. They both closed their eyes. "Sadik?" "Yes?" She let more tears fall. "I'm sorry too. For everything."

Then all was black.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The brunette awoke slowly, the boards of the hard bed creaking beneath her. Dark circles under her eyes, she took in her surroundings slowly. She gasped at the extreme soreness that came from her shoulder. She gripped it, wincing. When the hell did that happen? Her gaze flicked towards a counter as a young lady bustled in her direction. The blonde girl frowned, her curls bouncing about her face. "Aw geez, you weren't suppose to wake up yet." The Armenian rubbed at her temples, not recognizing this place. "Where am I....?" The lady set a plate down in her lap, smiling with pride. "This, deary, is the esteemed Sunlit Mare, the best inn in all of London!" The brunette dropped the bread she was munching on, staring at the woman with disbelief. The woman frowned slightly. "What? You not hungry?" "I'm in London?! When did this happen?!" The woman waved her hands in defense. "Calm down calm down! I didn't kidnap you or anything! I found you out in the streets hun, you looked like you were dying." The blonde eyed her suspiciously, her blue eyes narrowing. "Just where are you from anyhow?" The brunette swallowed. "Armenia. The city of Yerevan. I was on a cruise ship to visit friends in Greece....." She woman straightened, hands on her wide hips. "Ah, I see. Word is a ship crashed around these parts recently. No survivors." She smiled. "Except you apparently." She beamed. "You can call me Lydia, by the way. I own this here inn."


The brunette nodded and stood up slowly, still feeling sore. "So...Lydia....what should I do know?" The blonde put a finger to her chin. "Well, there's no way you're getting back home anytime soon. I suggest you stay here a while hun. I can put you to work and you can work off your stay here." She winked. The Armenian sighed before smiling gratefully. "Th-...thank you. That sounds great." Lydia beamed clapping her hands together. "It's no problem hun! Now, let's get you fixed up for your first day at work, shall we?"


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Alisia sighed, not particularly liking her new 'worker's outfit'. She felt as if she was advertising for prostitution. Though, in reality she was substituting a merchant at his vendor. Apparently this man worked for Lydia, but was off on vacation, or something. She huffed, propping her chin on her hands. Here she was, miles and miles away from home, in a random vendor in London, selling to shady looking people and the like. She was going to have to get use to this, really quickly.

She was torn from her thoughts as a young man demanded her attention. She blinked, barely hearing his statement. "What'cha got fer me today, hm?" She stared incredulously at the young man before her. Her chocolate yes narrowed. He looked so.....familiar. Those piercing emerald eyes.....

She snapped back to attention. He was asking something again. "Oi, I've never seen ye 'round 'fore. Where a'e ye from? Where's tha regular lad who mans tha shop?" She stared at him, unsure of what to say. "Um, well, you see, according to Lydia the man is on a holiday of some sort." She rubbed at her neck. "I apologize if it's not to your liking. And.....I'm from Armenia. I was on a ship, and it crashed you see. So...I'm here now." She chuckled nervously, ashamed of her own vagueness. "Now. W-was there something you needed, sir?"

His eyes narrowed, as he looked her up and down. In the back of his mind, he felt as if he knew her. Her eyes, her expression, her accent. All too familiar. But why would Arthur Kirkland, a disowned teenage boy who was almost a full-grown adult, know a girl from a whole other country? Arthur searched his mind, trying to figure out where he knew her from. But he could not seem to remember anything that had to do with her.

A slap to the face. The breaking of empty bottles of liquor. Yelling, screaming. Pushing, shoving. A huge cigar, and it's overpowering scent. The glow of red hair. Laughing. Blood. Bruises. Scratches. Scars. Tears. A weak feeling. Quick and scared footsteps echoing out into the pouring rain. Heavy breathing. Falling to the ground, but getting back up again. Running in an aimless direction. Taking shelter in a destroyed vehicle. Running again when the rain stopped. Get away from them all. Go away from them all. A small, disheveled child laying in the ruins of what used to be a street generations before his time. Sick, cold, hungry. A frail, yet defiant, girl approaching him. Waking up in a small house made from broken pieces of what used to be a huge heavy duty building. A warm fire. A warm blanket. The girl staring into the boy's eyes with a seemingly emotionless look. A question. An answer. A boy who was tormented and abused by siblings. A girl who had become separated from her younger brother. Both orphans. Once alone, they now lived together. The best of friends. Years later, the girl becoming sick. The boy fending for her. Constantly near death, but never able to die. Questions arousing, but never asked.

He could remember nothing about the Armenian girl. So why was every single bone in his malnourished body telling him that he knew her?

~{[ What the mind forgets, the body remembers. ]}~

Arthur snapped out of his daze, realizing that the Armenian was probably waiting for a response. Whoops. His fingers fidgeted with the ends of his hair; a habit that had been instilled in him ever since he was a young boy. What did she say again? Oh, right.

"Tha' ol' man is out for a holiday, ye say? Hah, good luck ever gettin' him ta come back here!" Arthur chuckled. The old man who ran the shop was a traveler for sure, and he tended to get lost rather easily. It's Austria in disguisseeee

The look on the Armenian's girl's face made him feel slightly guilty, though. He had to wonder why. Since when were people of this age allowed to feel guilty about others remorse? They had their own problems to deal with. He was going to brush the feeling aside, when he spotted it. Something rare, something he needed at any cost.

"Oi, lass. I'll trade ye this mighty fine knife," Arthur said, placing the knife on the tabletop, "and my services to ye as in helping ou' with tha shop and such for as long as ye need me....If I can have tha' gas mask righ' there."

That lone gas mask on the bottom of the pile of things up for trade was something valuable. With all the pollution in the air, those were the most ideal thing to have on you. It was extremely rare to come by one, though. Arthur wasn't thinking of himself, though, when he asked if the Armenian girl would trade him that mask. He was thinking of Helene. If she had that, maybe she would be able to walk easier! Or at least go outside their make-shift house for longer than a period of 10 minutes without throwing a coughing fit.

"Please, lass!" He was practically begging at this point. He needed that mask, no matter what it cost him.

[[ MY IDEA IS LOVED. QwQ THANK YOU, ARMENIAAAAA. <3333 AhahahaThisPostIsSoShortComparedToThePreviousTwoPosts|D ]]

(( YOU'RE WELCOME. IT'S A BEAUTIFUL IDEA. 8'D MORE PEOPLE NEED TO JOIN THOUGH. DEKAKL. ))

She blinked, her brown eyes flicking to the mask. She noted the desperation in the young man's voice. He was practically begging her. She stared at the knife he was offering for a long minute. She let her eyelids fall, a distant memory tugging at her mind.

There she was, her beautiful brown hair accompanied by shimmering green eyes. She had always been like a mother, her son like a brother. Alisia shook her head, trying to dislodge the image. It persisted. She was young then. A gentle hand touched her cheek. She gazed up at the woman; she looked like a goddess adorned in her white robes. Her smile was tender.' She rubbed at her temples, groaning in frustration. "Remember, Alisia. Something as trivial as wealth should not stop you from helping someone in need. You need not know their reasons, for they do, and the Gods do." Her beautiful image faded. Alisia screamed.'

The brunette snapped back to reality, eying the young Brit once again. She sighed, deciding to listen to that nagging voice in her head. She laughed softly, taking the boy's outstretched hand in hers. "Don't be silly." She folded his fingers closed, pushing away his offer of the knife. She turned back to the stall, plucking up the mask before handing it to him. "Take it, it's yours. I'll take whatever reaming Lydia whips up for me later." Her eyebrows knit together. "I'm not sure what for, but I can tell you need this more than we do." A sad smile creased her pink lips. "A friend of mine told me that. I can't remember who she was now.....but I do remember that."

Alisia paused, really taking in the tattered form of the blonde. Her brows furrowed. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days. Quickly, she fumbled with the necklace around her neck. She'd had it when she'd woken up, she couldn't remember where she obtained it from though.

She scrunched her eyes shut, another image biting at her memory. Blood splattered across a white mask. Malicious laughter could be heard, echoing across the battlefield. A young boy's eyes welled with tears; his mother fell dead. Later, the young boy had given her the pendant that had belonged to his mother. "You're the only family I have left. Please...wear this...."

She eyed the jade stones lined with silver; this was why she had kept it hidden under her shirt; it was too valuable to be seen in a place like this. Leaning close to the English boy, she dropped the necklace into his palm, the sad smile returning. "Here, take this. I'm sure this'll fetch you a nice price at some market. Grab yourself something to eat, alright?" Alisia searched in his familiar emerald gaze. Giving him the pendant made her feel as if a hole was missing in her heart. She shrugged the feeling off. 'If that pendant will help save someone's life, I'll be more than happy to give it up.'

She propped her elbow on the counter, resting her chin on her palm. The Armenian eyed the boy quizzically, a soft smile on her lips. "So, do you have a name?"

(( Psft. I'm not telling any of you who the lady and her son are. You have to guess. BD /WALKEDTHEPLANK ))

A constant migraine. Bruises and scars forming day after day. The undeniable lust for blood and revenge. That's the only thing war gave you, pain. Scotland sighed loudly as he stared out a nearby window, rain pouring down heavily and trickling down the glass. Were the heavens crying from how much we've suffered and made people suffer from this war? He remembered how calm and nice rain used to be, now it seemed almost painful. He couldn't even remember how this war broke out, nor did he care anymore since it seemed like it'd never end.

Dark circles around the Scotsman's emerald eyes ensured the man hadn't slept for days, maybe even a week or so. His clothes were worn and ripped, he could've always changed them but what was the point? They'd be tainted in blood anyways. The red-head moved away from the window and looked longingly at his front door, wanting to go see one of his siblings. Any one of them, even England just to see how they were but that was wishful thinking at this point. He tried to visit North Ireland weeks ago though nothing good came from it. The visit probably made things worse, he frowned and ran a hand through his matted hair while thinking about it.

---

((Yes i'm stealing your idea of flashbacks Armenia. BD ))

A ruby-haired man ran as fast as he could towards a very petite house located on the Northern part of Ireland in Belfast. Once the house came into the man's view, he ran much slower than he had been as he tried to catch a breath. Without warning, he kicked down the door with ease, helping himself inside as he looked for his younger sibling, a bit frantic. He later found the auburn-haired brother inside his room, fast asleep though sweating buckets. 'Was he sick?' Scotland wondered, though he'd be much more calm if that were the only case. He noted the many marks and bruises on his brother, which wasn't surprising since every nation at this point had atleast a few bruises on themselves.

He leaned in to shake his younger brother awake when North's eyes flashed open in fright once he had only touched the man, the younger sibling fell out of bed clumsily as tears ran down his cheeks. Scotland looked completely dumb-founded, North was never this easy to wake up..let alone freak out over a mere brother unless it was Ireland. Actually even if it were Ireland he was always so cheery, but now the younger siblings eyes were wide with terror as more tears flowed down his face.

"It's me..Yer aulder broth. Nae need tae act so scared" Scotland said calmly, holding out a hand to help his sibling up though North didn't make any attempt to reach for it and only stared at the Scotsman. "I ken..." He heard his younger sibling squeak out. "Ken what?" He asked, straining to hear his brother through his uncontrollable sobs and quiet voice. "Yer boss..I ken. He wants tae get rid of me and Ireland. Ireland told me awhile ago!" Scotland froze. 'His boss..........Couldn't have said that, Right? His own sibling... North didn't pose a threat in the least no matter how bad the war was so why would he..' Questions raced through his mind as he drew his hand back, staring at North whose sobs died down and was hardly audible anymore. "Bu'.." North began, catching Scotland's full attention before a knife came into view. It was too late to react as it was forcefully lodged into the older siblings side. His eyes grew wide before grunting loudly in pain. "I'm nae gonna let ya kill me without a fight" North finished, his eyes determined and serious for once.

"Are ya an eejit?! I wasnae gonna kill ya in the first place!!" He shouted at his sibling, pulling out the knife roughly while putting pressure on his side with his hand. Before North could even begin to object, Scotland continued his rant. "Ye can clearly see society is crumblin'. Even if ma boss did say tae attack ya, who said I would listen?" North stared at him and grew quiet, he looked a bit troubled before his facial expressions hardened and he became serious once again "I don' believe or trust ya..Sorry broth. Even...Wales tried tae hurt me" His eyes swelled up with tears as memories of his younger brother holding a weapon in his hand and pointing it at him played through his mind.

North finally dropped the blood-stained knife and fell to his knees. "Jus' go..Broth. I don' want..anythin' bad tae happen anymore. Jus'...go" The auburn haired man said through sobs, making the Scots heart ache though listening to him nonetheless. He was right, afterall. For all he knew, North's people could attack his at any given moment and as long as he talked to him and visited him the more the risk of that happening increased.

"Tha gaol agam ort." He said to North as he walked towards the Northern Ireland's front door, North stayed quiet though once he said that and left.

---

His siblings sobs echoed throughout Scotland's mind, making him frown more and move his attention away from his door. He wondered if any of his siblings were fighting right now, Ireland probably was and maybe even North. Scotland sighed and remembered when everything used to be great, when they all would meet up and try to get along though it didn't last but they all had fun anyway. It was pure bliss even if they didn't realize it until this war started.

Scotland looked up at the ceiling, he could hear gunshots growing closer to his abode though he didn't even try to hide, or find out who exactly was doing the shooting. Instead he sat on his couch as he usually did, and lit a cigar leisurely as he continued to look up at the ceiling. "Everything's goin' tae hell" He said quietly, smiling slightly as he continued "I wonder what ye would do if ya were in this situation...I'm almost glad ya don' haff tae live through this." He said towards the sky, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath. "Seems like we're all gonna be reunited if this keeps up...."

A thought crossed his mind once he said that and his eyes shot open. "England......." He muttered quietly, wondering if he was doing alright though knowing he could take care of himself even though he was the youngest sibling. He smiled again before looking out the window, only to see a bright beam of light come from England's direction. "The hell........" Scotland squinted his eyes to see the light more clearly though it was already huge enough. His eyes widened once he realized it was a spell, though he couldn't tell what exact spell it was. It was without a doubt, a strong one though.

The beam of light grew larger and brighter before it without warning covered everything. All the Scotsman could see around him was a blinding bright light for a couple seconds until it dissapeared completely. His surroundings were completely changed and he wondered if he had just woken up from a horrible dream. His memories had almost completely faded away which unsettled him deeply as he stood up. Everything around him looked familiar but at the same time, not. He groaned slightly before glancing at his side, raising his shirt only to see a re-opened cut wound. "Tha' is jus' dandy" He said sarcastically as his stomach growled in hunger. Deciding to steal some food, and find out where he was he walked around looking for places engulfed with people.

Once he reached a local trade market, a girl with chocolate eyes caught his sight, she looked too familiar though he couldn't understand why. "Maybe i've been here before.." He said, deciding that was the case as he walked closer only to see a blonde with thick eyebrows talking to her. His huge eyebrows made him question humanity for awhi-/SHOT He stared at him for a brief moment, his eyes mirroring his own and a woman from his memories he couldn't quite place.

A smile grew on his lips as he leisurely wrapped an arm around the Brit's shoulder once he finally recognized the man as his younger brother. "His names eejit." Scotland remarked playfully once he heard the Armenian girl, his eyes caught the mask Arthur had only gotten a few seconds ago as he snatched it to analyze it for a quick second. "Ye ken i could've found somethin' like this a long time ago if yer havin' trouble breathin' " He replied before throwing it back over to his brother, staring at the things the Armenia had though not having anything on his person that was valuable and he was willing to give up if he even was interested.

She... was giving the gas mask to him? For... absolutely nothing? Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was she for real? He hesitantly took the gas mask, looking into the Armenian's eyes, an expression of gratitude in his eyes.

"....Thank ya.....," he managed to say, realizing she was sincere. He didn't even realize there was people like this still in the world; kind and generous by nature.

Arthur's widened when he saw the pendant that was given to him. It would fetch an almost unthinkable high price at this day and age, why was she, a stranger, giving it to him? He took the pendant, and looked it over meticulously, his eyes entranced by its beauty for a while.

"This...." His voice had a twinge of awe as he carefully tied the necklace around his neck.

For some reason, even though the woman told him to go get something to eat, he didn't want to use that necklace for trade. It was as if there was a definite importance that the girl had to the necklace... He decided that since she was so insistent on him taking it, he would, but only to protect it from others that weren't the woman's prying hands. Even though he had just met her, the Briton felt the need to... protect her. Just like he felt the need to protect Helene, and though he'd rather die than admit it, his siblings, too. It was strange, really. From the instant he met some strangers, he'd feel compelled to make sure that they survived through this wreck of a world, no matter what. And then with other strangers, he just wouldn't care. They could fend for themselves. It's as if there was some sort of importance to the people he felt compelled to protect....

"Ya know wha', I'm still going to help ya 'round the shop. There's a lot of shady people who come 'round here, and a lass like yourself'll have a hard time dealin' with those drunkards. It wouldn't be tha' great if someone came and tried ta abduct ya or somethin' like tha', righ'?" He gave her a sincere look, not able to accept all that she had given him without something in return. Plus, who would protect her if someone tried to take advantage of her?

"Also, keep the knife for yourself, if ya won't take i' for tradin' purposes. You'll need it 'round here." He enclosed the knife back into her hands, not letting her refuse it.

He was about to respond to her question about his name, when someone interrupted him.

"His name's eejit," a hauntingly familiar voice said, the owner of the voice slinging his arm around Arthur's shoulder.

That person.... The one he ran away from..... No, it couldn't be him.... Arthur's head whipped around to see who he confirmed to be his oldest brother. He immediately elbowed him in the ribs.

"You...!" He managed to say, his English accent becoming more evident than ever.

"What are you doing here?!" He exclaimed, giving the Scottish man an irritated glare.

A small part of him felt almost happy. As if he hadn't seen the Scotsman in not years, but decades. As if the two of them had been separated by the hands of war. But no, that's impossible. It was just a feeling of nostalgia for a brother he hadn't seen in a few years. That was all.

"And my name is /Arthur/, you wanker! Not eejit!" Arthur scowled.

He then remembered about Armenia who is now forever alone . "Sorry 'bout him.... He's one of the shady people I was telling you about. Tha' man there.... is m' wife brother... What is your name, by chance? I can't continue to think of you as 'woman', after all."

The gasmask was taken from him, and then thrown back at him. Arthur's eye twitched.

"It's not for me! It's for my friend, you git! Which speaking of her, I should probably get back to her; she's probably wondering where I am..."

((Just going off from what Armenia's Flashbacks My Greece!Muse is still developing so please don't shoot me for this post >> ))
More and more tears had fallen from the Greek’s cheeks. He had done it; he was just following orders but regardless the reason he had shot at Armenia. He was glad that she had ran away, before he could have a chance to actually kill her. “What are you doing? Go after her!” his boss ordered. “Wait, what?” his eyebrows furrowed. “Did I stutter? Go after her, NOW.” He stood there for a several moments of hesitations, before running right after her. His vision was blurred from the tears still in his eyes. There wasn’t time to grieve just yet. It wasn’t his choice, it was his people’s. Everyone was hungry, cold, and slowing dying. Everything just wasn’t the same anymore. Everyone had to work nowadays: no more slacking off, laid-back attitudes, or even free time. Since the chaos, they needed as much help as possible. He had to look over his people no matter what, but not like this. “Armenia! Where are you?!” He cried out for her. Greece doubted that she’d answer back. While holding the gun tightly in one hand, he made his way towards her home.

He stood right in front of her doorway for a second before turning the doorknob. “Locked” he thought before taking his spare key out to open it. He doesn’t or at least didn’t need to knock or anything. Greece was always welcomed to her home and vice versa. “Hello? I’m coming in…” Quietly walking in, he began his search. “Where could she be?” First he checked her room, then bathroom, living room, kitchen, and no sign of the small country…

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The series of explosions shook the earth. “Woah!” Greece began running towards the sound. It didn’t appear too far away. ”That damn Turkey! What could he be up to?” Before he knew it he had cross the border into the once great land of Turkey. Now it’s all rubble and fire. Greece looked around for the Turk. “HEY STUPID HEAD WHERE ARE YOU?!” There didn’t appear to be any survivors. It was hard to say where the house was now. The vast stretch of land looked all the same, dark, dead, and depressing.

It looked like his hunch was correct. Turkey was dead afterall, however, Greece wasn’t in the mood to rejoice. He walked over to the body slowly until he saw another body beside him. It looked familiar, it was Armenia! He frozed on the spot once he had recognized her. ”It couldn’t be her… no..” Greece dropped the gun and ran towards the body. “Armenia wake up!” He shook her, but it was useless. Her body still remained but her soul was gone. “Aremenia…” He couldn’t hold it back anymore. The usual cool, laid-back Greece sat there and cried all of his emotions out: Sadness, Angry, Remorse, and Fear. He had finally cracked, after constant pressure and responsibilities…

He had remembered when they were little kids. They grew up together and shared so much. He had influenced her with his language. He had been fighting with her through many battles. They had always co-existed in peace and harmony. If only he didn’t take her for granted; then she would have stilled be with him now. “I’m so sorry…” His heart felt as if it bursted and his body felt heavy.

He looked up and it appeared to be a Russian Airplane in the sky. His stomach turned, ”Did Russia do this?” Greece quickly got up and ran towards Russia’s with a heavy heart and a lot to say. Knock Knock Knock! “Da? Who’s there?” he heard Russia’s voice from behind the door. “I-itt’s me, Greece. Let me in.” His voice trembled with anger. “Of course..” He heard the door unlock and revealed these large purple eyes. They look innocent enough, but he saw first hand what they were capable of. “It’s not often I see you up here.” Russia happily said before offering him to come inside. “No, no it’s not.. Thank you…” Greece walked in. It wasn’t the first time he had enter Russia’s home, but he had always felt uneasy. “I saw the bombs…” Greece began. “Da? Is that so? I didn’t realize that they could have been seen from that far..” The blonde had said amusingly. “No, I was at Armenia’s home at the time…” An eerie silence filled the room. “Hmm.. Is that all you wanted?”
“No, I wanted to thank you for getting rid of Turkey…”
“Oh, it was my pleasure really. No thanks necessary.”
“No I’m serious. Thank you, you did me a real favor. You know you also killed Armenia?”
“…What?”
“Yeah, I owe you one. If it weren’t for you I would have had to kill her myself..” Greece began to laugh out loud. “Haha.. You’re starting to creep me out, Greece…” Russia tried to laugh along. “You know she was like a sister to me? We always had each other’s back… And you went ahead and killed her! Funny right?” Greece held his stomach, “And guess what? I’m gonna beat the BALLET out of you!”
Without another thought otherwise, he ran towards him. He would try to swing back and forth, yet he missed every time. Tears blurred his vision and it didn’t help that he was fighting none other than Russia. “Hold down one second..” Russia began before he was punched in the shoulder.

“Haha.. “ Greece had said triumphantly. Out of nowhere the Russian’s lead pipe made contact with his head, down fell Greece. Blood was everywhere and the world slowly began to disappear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

”Why am I so cold? Where is the sun? Helios you’re running late, please shine the world with your fiery chariot..” As if upon request the sunlight awoken Hercules. How he hated being woken up, yet he didn’t have anyone to blame and blaming the Gods was dangerous. So the Greek sat up and stretched, ”I wonder why I am…” He looked around, it appeared to be an alley. It didn’t look at all familiar and was extremely dirty. He frowned as he looked at his surroundings, ”This doesn’t look like Greece..” Next to him appeared to be a crumpled up piece of paper. Being a curious philosopher which he is, he uncrumpled it and read, You’re name is Hercules Karpusi. You are in London, England and trying to find your mother. Please try to remember. Signed, Hercules Karpusi.

It was a self-written note; which was odd. Who would ever write to themselves? Well it appeared that he did. “My name is Hercules Karpusi…” He said out loud. Now he had remembered: it was true everything on the paper and he remembered that he often had memory loss. It was quite sad actually, something about being hit on the head. Shocker that he didn’t remember…

“Meow meow~” A stray cat had appeared out of nowhere. It was white with large, black spots and was coming towards him. ”Do I like cats?” he cautiously petted it. The kitten sniffed his hand first and then began to purr. “Yes, I do like cats…” A smile formed on his pink lips. “Little kitty, do you know where I can get food?” It never hurted to ask for help and maybe this stray was a native. The little kitten then began to walk away. ”Maybe it understood me…” The man tried to stand up before coming back down. His body was incredible sore for some reason. Yet, he grabbed onto the wall beside him and followed the cat.

It lead him to a vast market place. People were bustling and loud. “This is a time of war! You need to survive and what better than to buy everything here?” A merchant shouted out as Hercules passed. ”War? We are at war?” Wars were horrible. Nothing ever comes of it except betrayal, blood, and pain. Also, all this short-term memory loss was such a burden. He didn’t even remember who exactly he was or what he looked like. All he knew was that he was in England and that he was looking for his long lost mom or something…

“Oh yeah, my name’s Hercules Karpusi too..” A mirror caught his attention. The person in the mirror had fair skin and long wavy brown that reached down to his chin. He appeared in his either early to mid twenties. A true Greek man by just a glance. He stood at around six feet and had a light tan. He wasn’t too bad looking if he did say so himself. Altough his clothing was more comfortable than stylish. He had on a white t-shirt, tan pants, brown jacket, and a matching white hat. Maybe he was also a narcissist or something; he couldn’t stop staring at his big green eyes...

Then he felt a little tug on his pants, “Hmm?” It was his little feline friend and in his mouth was a piece of bread. Hercules pointed to himself, “Is that for me?” Then he took the bread from the cat’s mouth. “Thanks…” It looked fresh, it smelled fresh.. Taking a bite and declaring it was indeed a fresh piece of bread. So it was least likely found in the trash. Had the cat stole the bread just for him? Though it didn’t matter to him where it came from. He was happy that he was nibbling on something.

There seemed to be a commotion, well a larger one than the market place itself. He walked over there, but stayed away from view. He didn’t know how the people here were like, and didn’t want to catch their nasty side. Especially if this was the court which the bread he was currently munching on was stolen here…

(( HOLY SENACA'S BEARD! A GREECE! *dies happily* 8''D ))


Alisia chuckled from the Brit's sudden gratitude, and offer. She waved her hands in-front of her. "N-no. You don't have to. I don't expect anything in return for-" He was putting the knife in her hands then in a silent demand that she keep it. She looked at the weapon, then back up at him, her own gratitude creasing her pink lips. "I....thank you. I'll put it to good use." She slipped it into her pants pocket, not intending to lose it anytime soon. She glanced back up at the green-eyed man. 'Gosh, he looks so familiar....like something out of a dream. But.....how? I'm sure that I've met him somewhere before...'

Her thoughts were dislodged as a rough Scottish accent cut into their conversation. ENTER SCOTLAND. The man playfully wrapped his arm around the Brit's shoulders, a mischievous smile plastered on his face. Alisia was slightly taken aback. Despite the difference in hair color...these two looked similar. Especially with those piercing emerald eyes. Her eyes widened slightly as the Brit rammed an elbow into the Scott's ribcage. She chuckled. Yep, definitely related.

Alisia nodded towards the Brit, trying to contain her giggling-fit. These two were so incredibly amusing. Watching them set a slight flutter of pain through her heart. They were family. She rubbed her fingers along the wood of the counter. She knew her name, and that she was from Armenia, and that was it. Did she even have any family? If she did, she couldn't remember them.

She pulled herself from her thoughts at the mention of the Brit's name. "Hm, Arthur. That's a wonderful name." 'Wonderfully familiar.' She chuckled again as the red-head snatched the mast from Arthur's grasp. "Now now, I gave him that mask free of charge. You better make sure he gets it to that sick friend of his." Staring at the Scott longer sent another pang of familiarity through her. 'That's impossible. Have I met this man as well? ....And why do I feel the sudden urge to punch him?'

For some reason she couldn't explain, Alisia felt her eyes drawn towards a crowd of people making their way into the market. The group was fairly large and bustling about. She raised an eyebrow; nothing special there. She was about to turn back to the brothers when something, no, someone caught her eye. She saw him ambling slowly into the swarm of people passing through. Her eyes widened, chocolate orbs glazed in shock. The man had shoulder length brown hair and calming jade eyes. She noticed a small cat with black spots following directly on his heels. Alisia couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes from the scene. 'All this deja-vu is going to make me insane.' Something about the man seemed extremely familiar, and oddly calming.

Deciding that she shouldn't be rude, the Armenian turned her attention back to the emerald-eyed brothers, keeping the strange man in her peripheral at all times.