Some Birds Aren't Meant to Be Caged {Sealand} | Do Not Forget Me

Some Birds Aren't Meant to Be Caged {Sealand} May 1, 2015 20:48:53 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on May 1, 2015 20:48:53 GMT -5

Seoul, South Korea

It all started so simply; seconds descending into minutes, minutes to hours, and eventually those hours dragging into what seemed like infinity. Time was a relic of the past for Yong-Soo, it had been ever since that fateful day that only occurred weeks ago. He sat in silence alone in his own personal dorm at the Blue House, absolutely disgusted at the concept that those North Korean brutes were in his home, stomach churning lightly as he made a badger face, no where near the mood to tinker with some of his gadgets or boot up his Playstation 7. All he could do was suffer in silence-at least when he was hidden from the public eye, he still had a mask to wear whilst dealing with both his own Koreans and his brother's, he was the representation of triumphant from oppression, success from the rubble...their unbreakable spirit.

Question was, was he truly unbreakable? Soo asked himself this on a near daily basis these days, his signature curl sagged low with what appeared to be a frown depicted on it's features, matching the features of his own face. True, he was one the younger end of the spectrum in regards to nation aging, and there were others who have had far more baggage to burden them-but the South Korean knew what hell felt like; the death of Appa, the Japanese occupation, and the ongoing conflict with the North. He just could not catch a break to escape his demons.

He was praying to whatever God was listening that Yong-Sun had been busy with affairs that day, he couldn't bare to face him again. So much had changed since he last saw him facially. He was an arrogant monster now, a product of communism and Juche mantras, and it destroyed him internally. It made him boil, if only he had a time machine-or one of his inventors made a time machine to go back in time to prevent all of this, he would've certainly taken the leap. If his sibling weren't busy with dealing with him, all he could do was hope and continue to pray for his own citizens and political figures in hiding, though some did manage to flee to Japan, Taiwan and even the United States if possible.

The train of thought certainly wasn't aiding his psychological state, Yong-Soo figured that much was obvious as he stood up from his desk, figuring he was in need of some physical movement, slipping out his quarters to fetch a drink.

"Now, now, where do you think you're going?"

Great. A North Korean guard questioning his intentions, just what he needed. With a calm breath and a facade in place, the Korean looked at the thug straight in the optics. "A drink. I'm going to get a drink." He replied simply, wise to not upset this particular henchman of Sun's as the guard simply nodded in reply, and told him to take no more than five minutes. He nodded and thanked him, trying to keep his typical posture as he walked down the shadowed hallways of his home, truly debating whether there really was any hope for normalcy on this crazy Earth.

Word Count: 540

Muse: Best друг-C.K.A.Й.

Notes: ~~Rita Hayworth and~~ The Shawshank Redemption.<3

Some Birds Aren't Meant to Be Caged {Sealand} May 2, 2015 22:34:19 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on May 2, 2015 22:34:19 GMT -5

Peter hadn't slept in 27 hours and counting.

It wasn't as though he didn't want to sleep. In fact, he desperately wished he could. He knew this was all in his head, it was all in his head. That was a fact. It was psychosomatic and he could beat it, he didn't have to stay awake, he didn't have to only sleep for half-hours at best before rolling out of bed and crying out of empty empty fires empty broken jump, he didn't have to, he didn't! At least it wasn't as bad as the homesickness he used to get when he was very little, when he nearly hadn't been able to walk when he wasn't on Fort Roughs because he felt dizzy and blind.

That didn't mean it wasn't nothing, though, as he paced back and forth in front of a bed before collapsing down into a sitting position, defeated. Peter had never been able to sleep away from places he'd convinced himself were home. Sure, he could manage it for one night, but, depending on his level of comfort, anywhere from over the next week until the very next night, he wouldn't be able to sleep without getting nightmares of some kind. There were only a few places he considered home enough for this not to happen: his own territory, his Daddy's house, and wherever Raivis was. It took a lot to get Peter to sleep well anywhere (it had been telling when, shortly before their explosive argument, Peter couldn't sleep at his brother's house).

Half wired and half exhausted, Peter leaned back on the bed that wasn't home and sighed at the ceiling. He had tried to run off several times already, but as the sleep deficit had widened his plans had gotten steadily more ridiculous until he finally just decided that he'd have to either force himself to sleep, which, at this rate, would take until he literally collapsed, or he'd have to wait for someone else to help him out. He wasn't sure which. All he was sure of was that the windows of his room were made of reinforced plexiglass and that even his heavily little steel fist wasn't about to break them, and that the room wasn't home and he still wasn't handling that well.

Peter swung his legs up again and started pacing. He needed something to do. He'd gone through all of the paper he currently had his hands on. Littered across the floor were slightly jittery but intricately detailed drawings of boats, of radios, of machines and their parts. There was at least one sheet of paper with faces drawn across them with different emotions. They didn't look quite right, almost more like an idea of a perfect face than a real face, but there was more emotion in them than there once had been when Peter had drawn them. He'd always drawn mechanically, meticulously (he was surprisingly meticulous, sometimes, but only about the strangest things).

Finally, he decided he was going to go find sugar. Peter wasn't supposed to drink caffeine according to his Daddy, and it only worked about fifty percent of the time for him anyway. He'd just find the sugariest foods he could and see if that woke him up enough to think clearly. That, or he'd finally swallow his pride and ask for a sleeping aid of some kind next time anyone asked him if he needed anything, because he'd become positively loopy if he went too much longer without sleep.

"Where are you going? someone asked as he left. Oh, yeah, the people who were watching him so he didn't run away. He wondered if he should try just sort of walking out the door.

"Well, I'm super tired because I can't sleep and I need to be more awake so I was going to get something to eat with a lot of sugar and see if that woke me up but it probably won't and I was sort of thinking of seeing if just walking out of the door would do anything except I think you still have people following me- you still have people following me, right?- and I was then thinking I might just get, I don't know, a whole lot of Benadryl or something so that I can fall asleep better, or maybe do something other than pace in circles and pretend that the bed will actually help me fall asleep-"

"Go," hissed the guard, and Peter realized that he'd just said all of that out loud. Whoops. The guard probably hadn't needed Peter talking at him so much. Peter almost started to apologize, but the man looked mutinous immediately when Peter opened his mouth, so he closed it again. Instead, he (somewhat shakily) walked out of his room, thick shadows under his eyes but their lids wide open, as though they'd been taped there by the mix of excess energy and lack thereof that Peter felt.

He was part way out into the hall before he realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was. This was slightly odd for Peter, who should have known exactly where he was if he'd been there before, but he forgave himself because even the wallpaper looked interesting when he was this tired. He walked a little forward before tripping over absolutely nothing and practically crumpling forward. Luckily, there appeared to be somewhere there to break his fall. Unfortunately for both of them, Peter was heavy.

"Sorry," Peter said, "I didn't mean to run into you I just wasn't really paying attention and I tripped because I'm exhausted and I have no idea how I'm supposed to sleep- wait a second I think I recognise you that's weird." He paused. The fact that he had to think for as long as he did was another sign that he was too tired, and the fact that the first face that had come to mind was actually the man's brother instead of who the man really was should have also been a warning sign to a kid who wasn't normally too bad at facial recognition. Still, a moment later, his eyes lit up.

"You're South Korea, aren't you? That's cool, I didn't know you were here I mean I guess I should have figured that out but I don't actually entirely understand where I am your brother's weird it's nice to meet you!" Peter looked up at the man and, after a moment, stuck out his hand. "My name's Peter and I'm also Sealand and I have, like, three different last names but I like Bates best but a lot of people like Kirkland better and I don't mind Oxenstierna too much 'cause that's Daddy's name." He nodded assuredly.

Wow he needed sleep.