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Post by Deleted on Mar 25, 2015 20:59:14 GMT -5
In hindsight, perhaps, the whole operation had probably been poorly planned, poorly conceived, and quite possibly entirely a poor idea in the first place. It was, after all, only their second time even daring to attempt an operation in Korea, mostly because the ability to escape was very, very limited. Still, Peter had at least thought that he had some good intel, that there wasn't really going to be border patrol there, that he could help them onto a boat and wait for a better pickup, that it was (mostly) airtight and the chances of something going wrong were very, very low. He had been wrong. Sure, things had gone well at first. Peter had been there himself, even, because this one was dangerous and everyone knew that and he wasn't just going to leave some of his People with a chance of being hurt. He'd been wearing the same uniform as everyone else in the small operation (there were only six of them), dark grey cloth with the Sealandic flag sewn over the heart. It wasn't much of a uniform- for one thing, almost everyone's was made out of a different kind of cloth and sewn in slightly different cuts and were mostly dyed white or light clothing. The shades of grey weren't even all exactly the same. But it didn't matter, since it was a uniform, and it served its purpose. Anyway, it had started well, it really had. The refugees had already been huddled onto a boat, and it seemed very much like they'd be leaving scott free. Unfortunately, Peter really should have known better. Last time it had hardly seemed so... so quiet. It was unnerving. As he stood out watch, about to be the last one to get on the boat, he'd looked over his shoulder and wondered about that. He'd looked and saw movement in the dark. But he thought nothing of it. And so he really, really should have known better. As it was, he didn't realize just how wrong the whole thing was going until he heard the first gunshot. "DOWN!" It didn't really need saying, but he shouted it anyway. "GO! GO NOW!" he continued. "Sir! Peter-" said one of the others, still face down on the boat, even as he got the engine going. Peter wasn't sure what was going through his head, but he'd imagined at the time it must have been the man remembering that, as durable as Peter was, he did only have the appearance of a thirteen-year-old kid. It didn't matter in the end, though. Someone else got the boat running as more shots fired and Peter fired back at a much less rapid pace, not really aiming at the people but aiming near enough to them to maybe, maybe get them to stop shooting long enough- BANG. He really hated that sound. Peter knew two things, and that was that his People were precious, and that he was pretty durable, or at least, physically. And maybe he'd always been more driven to protect them now that he had them then he should be. At any rate, it was his arm that wound up in front of the bullet as the boat's motor finally carried the boat into more of the distance (or at least, that's what he thought had happened. His vision was suddenly a bit more grey than it had been a few minutes before, and his ears were ringing in a way he hadn't heard them do so in a while). He absently cradled his left arm- it was the upper arm- in his right arm. His rifle had been replaced on his back. He was bleeding. He was bleeding a lot. Wow. That was a lot of blood. Quiet. His knees are weak. There are probably still gunshots and those weak knees barely carry him out of them; certainly, no more would hit him that night. He felt dizzy. Wow. That was a lot of- oh. He'd already noticed that, hadn't he? Steel and concrete, Peter. Stay standing up. He does. His head isn't very clear, but he does have the clarity to realize that he really, really should be running, and that wow, that was a lot of blood. Had it nicked an artery? No, wait, don't be stupid, Peter. It almost certainly had, but not a major one, there's a layer of steel protecting that (isn't there?). He hears the gunshots slow. He doesn't understand what they're saying, and it takes him a minute to realize that that's because they're talking in Korean, of course he has no idea what they're saying. They're a lot faster than Peter is. He clenches and unclenches his left fist (wow. that's a lot of blood) as he tries to run, but he stumbles over himself. After finally determining it was useless, he turns around to face the people who've caught him. He stays standing. He just needed a few minutes more, see. He knew he'd black out, and that after that, he'd heal, mostly, but he still needed just a few minutes more, just a few minutes more... He stares one of the border patrol members in the eyes, and they both stare at each other for a moment. Finally, in halting English, the guard asks "Who... are... you?"Peter's too tired to think of why, exactly, the guard might be asking that (he doesn't see that, even with all of the blood, his wound is awfully shallow for a bullet wound, that the shard of metal sticking out of it certainly isn't a bullet, that he shouldn't really still be standing straight up now, three minutes after he's been hit). Instead, all he can think is that he can't give that guard his real name, he can't give that guard a real name, what's a fake name he can use, fake name, he's been reading, he's been reading those books England always tried to make him read- "Ernest... Worthing..." he finally says (though he's barely understandable), and then he does black out before they can ask him anything else (or before he can realize just how obviously that was a fake name). When Peter wakes up, his hands have been shoved into plastic handcuffs, and he's in a small concrete room. His shirt had been pulled off, probably in a search for weapons. He sighs. Well. This was bad. This was- this was very, very bad... At least they hadn't tried to kill him yet or something, or at least, he was fairly certain they hadn't. His scar's mostly exposed, and its very, very not human twists make Peter realize just exactly how much trouble he's in. (Outside, they've already called in that they've got something weird.) (In his head, he's already got a plan: ' Kick the first person who comes in here really, really hard, run, you can't be far from the border, you've never blacked out for more than thirty minutes, after all, from direct physical wounds (even if you have from other kinds). You're good at navigating. If that fails, negotiate- how do you even negotiate with the Koreans?'
It's not a very good plan, though. Suddenly, Ernest Worthing (how much more of a stupid name could he have chosen?) wasn't feeling very confident.) Don't feel the need to write as much as I did. I wrote an absurd amount. |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 26, 2015 21:23:42 GMT -5
There was a story to be told here with a moral all individuals operated in a more morally gray area—or were completely amoral—touted. The power of fear. Man by himself was a stubborn, entitled creature. How easily men could fight tooth and nail to protect what they considered theirs: their land, their money, their families; and yet how easily they could be cowed by the same thing. That was the thing about North Korea, fear ran rampant and with fear came loyalty. Brothers, sisters, husbands and wives how they would grovel and sell out one another just to escape the country’s punishment; and men oh how men opened and spewed like a newly discovered spring when a gun was placed against their beloved’s head. It made Yong-Sun quiver in excitement to see what had once been a sun-kissed complexion go pallid in terror.
That’s the rate of escape was low, that was why there was border patrol that night, that’s why Peter was wrong. So very wrong. That’s why nothing was alright. Nothing was ever alright in North Korea.
The fire crackled and drew shadows over Yong-Sun’s face as he sat in his study, body facing the fireplace. His usually braided hair was down and cascaded over one shoulder like an inky snake. His eyes were closed, his body relaxed though still dressed in his olive uniform and polished shoes. At right elbow stood a table atop which was an open bottle of wine on ice and a glass of the rich cabernet sauvignon.
So many thought the nation impatient and rash, but he wasn’t. Not really. Okay sometimes, but far more he treated situations like these like the wine at his side, he savored them. He let them age, then let them air, and then he let them circle in his palm just like the crimson liquid in the glass before he brought it to his lips. The pleasures in life were not to be rushed and letting his citizens believe they could leave so easily only to crush that mote of hope…Yong-Sun felt the noise bubble up from his chest before he was laughing. How he hated that his people needed to be taught a lesson—he was just trying to protect them—but how he enjoyed delivering their judgments. He never knew just what any one “traitor” would pay as their price, but that was all part of the relish he took. It was always a surprise!
He picked up the wine glass and let it stay poised against his mouth for several moments before he took a sip. His pink tongue darted out to gather what had stained his lips and it was then he opened his almost golden eyes with all the hurry of a sated cat. His lips curled up and he begun to hum. It was one of his military marches, starting out slow and somber. And quiet.
Just like Peter would find the night. The melody was drowned out by the fire just as he knew the footsteps of his border control would be drowned out by the roar of the sea. He could have felt pity for the poor souls who were trying to leave and their “rescuers”, but if he did was washed away by his anticipation.
Poor unfortunate souls…In pain…in need…
He grinned and his eyes seemed to stare into the fire which lit them and truly made them seem to glitter. He took another sip and imagined as the first bullet whizzed through the air. If the people who had come to “kidnap” his people were smart, they too would have weapons, but they would be no match for his men. They’d better not be, at least. To have such a negative thought it would easy to imagine that Yong-Sun scowled, but he didn’t. If his men failed their families would join those of the escapees. More people to pass judgment on! North Korea could be worried. He could fume at the worst case scenarios, but he doesn’t. There was no stirring of trepidation in his blood only excitement. Though he did hope the traitors are caught along with whoever was bold enough to stand against him and tempt his wrath. He really wanted to meet them! What conversations they could have!
His humming had grown in volume and pace. It was loud and sharp like the bullets that would whiz past the boat Peter would try to escape on, like the bullet that would pierced his arm and made him bleed. It was fast like all the heartbeats on that boat. Hope and terror colliding and battling like two dragons. Yong-Sun could hear the drums from the song in his ears and suddenly when they stop it like when all the fighting would stop. His traitors would be captured. He took another sip of his wine and the last chords and steady, soft drum beats float through his imagination.
The door to the study opened.
Yong-Sun placed the wine glass down and stood leisurely, though the movement was as graceful as the stream winding around a river stone. He ran his fingers through his hair and gathered it as he turned to the man who had come for him. Behind him he could see his boss, but any acknowledgement given or that he’d give back was lost as the patrol guard began to talk.
They’d found something strange with one of the prisoners, one of them who was trying to abscond with his citizens.
“Please take me to him,” Yong-Sun grinned.
He braided his hair as he was lead to the holding cells. They are close to his home because they are temporary. Here the traitors will be questioned and then it will be decided based off many factors including what else they knew that could be of use what would become of them. They must have been hoping their Immortal Leader was in a generous mood or planning on how to make their crime seem less in line with the others.
Slander: Yong-Sun loved it, but at that moment he didn’t care about any of that. His mind was focused on one thing, the young man with the steel beneath his skin and the amusing name of Ernest Worthing.
He was even polite as they came to the door. The guard did not wish to see him, his boss deferred to him, and so North Korea opened the door. That was when he saw how young the other was. He knew one thing before then that this prisoner was a nation, but upon seeing him he did not know what. Yet that didn’t steal his smile.
“Well, aren’t you a brave one, Mr. Worthing,” he told him and it was with genuine pride and joy. He remembered being a bold, young nation too. He would never harm another child as he had been, but still it was a pity that he’d come without permission. “I don’t mind calling you that, though I know it’s not your real name. In fact, I have no idea who you are.” And it wasn’t because he didn’t recognize Sealand, but because he was a nation secluded from the West and little came to him and such news as Sealand declaring independence wouldn’t be the sort of news he paid much attention to anyway.
“But I suppose that’s a question for later, yes? Tell me, just what you were doing in my waters?” And it didn’t matter that he already knew. This was how China and Russia always spoke to him when he was caught doing something against the rules and he knew this nation was aware of the rules or otherwise he’d not have done this in the cloak of night.
North Korea might have been more lenient if Sealand actually didn’t know.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 27, 2015 20:38:03 GMT -5
He heard footsteps down the hall, and all of his muscles tensed, ready to spring forward if the time came. His hands were still bound behind his back- they apparently knew better than to even consider untying that much- but Peter wasn't about to be on the ground when whoever was coming to talk to him arrived. No, he'd be on his feet, just as defiantly staring them in the eyes as ever. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he managed to struggle up to a standing position, hearing the footsteps echo around him. Click… click… click… He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, unfortunately. His room didn't have windows. Peter suspected that this was a bad thing, as while it may have been to prevent the inside from seeing out, but it seemed just as likely that it was to prevent the outside from looking in. Maybe he could argue that he was young for his age. Maybe he'd be lucky. But he doubted it. Peter had found that he was very rarely lucky, per se, but rather just very, very odd. Besides, if he had been the sort of person with lots of good luck, he'd probably have to be the kind with lots of bad as well, and he didn't really want that, to leave things to luck. No, he didn't want to leave things to luck at all, because that would mean he couldn't do anything at all to change things. But now also wasn't the time to be thinking about tangents like that. Instead, he stood looking warily at the door, trying to figure out if there was anything better he could do to make the situation better. HIs plan continued to essentially fall as “kick them really, really hard in a bad place and then run really, really fast,” and that certainly wasn't enough of a plan to succeed. Peter was beginning to think that he probably should have come up with better contingency plans in case he himself was captured, rather than simply the vague knowledge that it was likely to happen. He should be better at this by now! Planning was a thing! Planning was a thing that had to happen! Click... click... click... Now Peter was fairly certain that the footsteps were getting further away. Although, as good as he was at judging distances, he'd mostly done it by sight. Also, it was normally in familiar places when he didn't have a dent in his arm and wasn't somewhat leaning against a wall because he was still ever-so-slightly off balance (though that was going away even as he thought it). The fact that he didn't have a shirt on was even more unbalancing, though that was all mental. Whoever came in, he really didn't want them to see- (Only Michael had ever really seen the extent of the injuries when it had happened, 'cause Mr. Bates was sick and he wasn't going to show his Jerk Brother England. He didn't want him to worry. And now, he didn't show anyone now either. Only if they'd happened to see.)- he really didn't want whoever came in to see. But he didn't have a choice, now did he? What if no one came in? That would be bad. He couldn't just sort of break down a door- Peter may be able to throw fairly strong punches, but he was also Sealand. It wasn't like he was Mister America or the Russian or Mister Germany. He'd be stuck for a long, long time if no one ever opened that door. Someone had better open that door. Luckily, someone did. Of course, Peter wasn't feeling more confident when the door opened, because while he didn't recognise the man in front of him at first glance, he did at second. Peter had only seen him once or twice, after all, because sneaking into world meetings doesn't typically give a kid access to certain people, and because when Daddy started taking Peter in with him, he'd stop Peter from getting terribly near the few, few, few times the man in front of him had shown up at all. But he was unmistakable. North Korea. Peter may have only seen him once, but he'd certainly heard stories, both on the news and from Latvia and from other people, too (it was amazing what the older Nations used to say when they thought he couldn't understand them or wasn't paying attention). Peter was fairly certain, therefore, that this was the next-to-worst possible thing that could happen to him, except perhaps that door never getting opened at all. He wasn't even vaguely comforted that the man didn't know who Peter was. It would only take a Google search (did they do that here?) of the flag sewn on his clothes to figure out where he had come from, and what were the chances he'd be any Nation other than the one on his flag. Maybe North Korea didn't know that Peter was a Nation, then? But no- there it was, the thing he didn't want anyone to see, reminding him that he could hardly be anything else. He debated speaking at all before he found he wasn't as afraid as he should be. He had been held hostage before at least once by that Traitor. It was, sadly, no longer a new and frightening thing, and North Korea didn't have Michael also, didn't have mercenaries and guns being fired. Really, this wasn't half as frightening. (Keep telling himself that, and he might just believe it.) Peter thought for a moment. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed. He couldn't possibly get in more trouble than he was already in. And besides, it wasn't like he agreed with the man. "I wasn't entirely... um... my head wasn't entirely clear when I made up that name," he finally said, not really answering North Korea's question at all, "though I'm surprised you figured it out so quickly? I mean, I doubt you even let people read Oscar Wilde here. I only read it 'cause my Big Brother wanted me to, but the play's actually kind of funny, even if it is written by an old dead guy. Though I think you'd find it a bit... I don't know. Dissident? Free-thinking? Seditious? Or perhaps simply not oppressive enough?" He shrugged almost apologetically, and his eyes finally met North Korea's directly. "No wonder people want to leave so badly." And then he pushed himself off the wall and forced himself to balance on his own two feet. He blinked as innocently as possible. The false bravado was only slightly apparent in his voice, and it only trembled a bit. He wasn't scared. Really, he wasn't! "So all I was doing was helping them do just that? I mean, I'd want to leave- I don't even get windows!"In case you're wondering, the made-up name (actually, entirely made up person) Ernest Worthing basically is the impetus for the entire plot of Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest. (You probably weren't.) It's social comedy, parody, and basically an absurd farce. Fun quotes like “In matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing." Or “Never speak disrespectfully of Society, Algernon. Only people who can't get into it do that.” |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2015 21:23:17 GMT -5
The door was shut and North Korea leaned back against it. His arms folded and he bent one foot and pressed it against the door. He regarded the nation who stood before him despite having his hands bound. He was so young and yet he reminded Yong-Sun so much of himself before the second of the War Worlds. He’d been so happy then; he and Yong Soo had both had been happy then and they had been so inseparable. They saw the world with such innocence and when the world came he had stood so much like the nation before him. He had been proud and cocky. North Korea chuckled and clapped his hands together. Sealand was just so cute with his boldness and his glaring and his bravery. He didn’t look as afraid as other nations at first. That of course made North Korea curious as to who he really was, but like he’d said that was for later. Right now the little nation was talking to him. But he did have google—just because he monitored his people’s access didn’t mean he couldn’t research whatever he wanted. Speaking of which… That was right, the nation who called himself Worthing was talking! And he was sooo cute! Gosh he really, really wanted to look fearless. The kid was stealing his heart here with his false bravado. He really reminded him of himself and North Korea really didn’t like hurting kids and just look at him! Shaking and yet he was trying so hard to look heroic. Yong-Sun laughed, “You, you’re surprised? Of course you would be! Everyone thinks I’m a shut-in and so I’m stupid, hm? Stupid and craaazy,” he sang and then clucked his tongue. “And I'm such a meanie to my citizens right? I don’t let them read anything!” This was so rich. “I’m a horrible nation! Bad Korea,” he playfully hit himself on the cheek. “Bad Korea!”The Importance of Being Ernest. Korea just continued to chuckle as he shook his head. He loved it when all the nations thought he was a murderous tyrant. He was, of course, but he loved when everyone believed the rumors he’d spread himself. About how possessing Western media, literature, or even ideas got people murdered or imprisoned by him and while, yes, it did, not everyone got killed or even jailed. All the true rumors had witnesses, so of course that made all the untrue ones even more likely. He did love his brother and it was fun watching his people be smart. Besides all those little Western ideas filled his people with hope and dreams. Those were blissful to destroy! “You know what little kipling,” Yong-Sun said and smiled happily either absolutely ignoring more of Sealand’s faux face, “I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone.” He tilted his head. “I just can’t let danger like that into my people, after all.” But he had, oh he had. He’d turned a blind eye and then just when they were blooming, he’d stamp on them. “But me? I know Wilde, Dickenson. I’m not ignorant…I can speak several languages, including English, Russian, Chinese, and even Japanese.”He wasn’t mad at all. It was actually really hilarious. He was a genius and everyone thought him dumb. He finally straightened and looked at Sealand before leaning down and reaching out to him. “My border patrol was quite rude to you, weren’t they? Would like some windows? Food? I certainly don’t want to see you being harmed because of their zealousness. That’s what happens when people depend on you, sometimes they just go a little mad in the head, you know? Overpleasers…just as bad as disappointers. But I’ll take care of you little one after all you came to my country and I’ve not had any visitors in a long time! You should stay a little while!”He clapped his hands. “You remind me of myself when I was a little country! Yes, I will make sure you are treated kindly!” I just couldn't resist having North Korea recite lines to him from The Importance of Being Earnest. But thanks for that! It'd been forever since I read that. I got a kick out of seeing a literary reference. |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 3, 2015 21:14:02 GMT -5
Peter still wasn't sure what to make of the mysterious North Korea, but he suddenly had a very bad feeling that he'd stepped wrong. Well, that was obvious. Of course he'd made a wrong step, he wouldn't be in a jail cell if he hadn't! But he was suddenly quite, quite certain that he'd underestimated something somewhere, and he wasn't quite sure where. It left him feeling a little bit uncomfortable. There was something about North Korea's grin that was absolutely impossible to read, after all. At least Russia was something he was familiar with, thanks to Latvia. But this was something else entirely.
He watched apprehensively as the man playfully quipped at Peter, whacking himself on the head. Peter wasn't quite sure what to say. He didn't think North Korea stupid, that was certain. Oh, he was more and more certain while watching the man that North Korea was completely and utterly insane, but stupid? Oh, no, Peter had never met a Nation before that was really stupid when it came down to it. Even silly Seborga had his wise moments. Even Mister America could dance artfully around Russia and annihilation when necessary. Even the tiny bit he'd seen and heard of about Mister Italy gave Peter an idea of just how smart most Nations could be if they really, really applied themselves. The Renaissance hadn't ever been lost on that man, not that Peter could see. So North Korea wasn't stupid. It probably would be impossible for him to really, really be. (That, and Peter had no preconceptions beyond the few things his ears hadn't been covered for and his knowledge of some of the Korean people's state during this war. He had no reason to think the man wasn't smart.)
So even as Peter's heart sank while he quoted Wilde right back at him, he couldn't say much. He'd known North Korea had recognised it somehow. "I don't think you're stupid," said Peter, reflecting his thoughts. "But seeing just the few of your People I've seen?" He laughed. He tried to make it sound light and airy, even as Peter's heart was speeding up slightly below his steel chest. His brave face and bravado needed to remain keeping him light. But it came out slightly bitter and slightly cold and all-too-knowing, even as he forced himself to smile. "Well, most Nations aren't so sensitive to it, I guess, but only having about three citizens for a large part of my life, I'm really, really protective of my People? I can't even imagine hurting them, you know," he continued, "and I'd think you'd have to be a quite the sociopath and extremely detached from reality to even consider doing so. But I suppose I can't judge- I have an odd perspective on the matter, really, with my upbringing!"
He was going to be in so much trouble.
Well, at least North Korea didn't seem to hate Peter. In fact, the man was practically jumping up and down with excitement for some reason, offering Peter accommodations. Somehow, Peter determined, this was worse than his most recent encounter with Russia. At least Russia was a little bit predictable! He did know, though, that this was an opportunity. He might not be able to break thick steel doors, but if he got windows there was no telling what he could do. He might not be able to kick North Korea in a bad place and get away with it, but if they were in a hall instead of a box he might be able to and get away. He should probably stop being so antagonistic, then. Play along?
He really hoped he didn't actually resemble the man in front of him as he was as a kid because Peter really, really didn't like that idea. No, he didn't like it whatsoever. And no, his arms weren't shaking. It was just his left arm still healing from that gunshot wound. He wasn't nervous at all. He was perfectly fine. Really, he was!
And it totally wasn't with a degree of nervous apprehension that he didn't want to show on his face that Peter stepped towards the man's outstretched hand. His own hands were still in the plastic handcuffs behind his back. He probably could have broken them, except his left arm had burned the first time he'd tried and he wasn't going to risk it. "I guess they were quite rude?" he finally said, gesturing behind his back as though to remind North Korea that the handcuffs made it very hard for him to grab the man's offered hand. "Although, they'd have no idea who I was. I imagine it was a bit scary, really. You can't blame them!" He nodded a little certainly and perhaps with slightly more concern than he'd really wanted to let through his eyes. He decided against mentioning that he had, in fact, been shot in the arm. For one thing, he had no idea what North Korea could do to him with that information. For another, he definitely didn't want the guards getting blamed for doing their job and, in fact, guarding.
"But I guess I might like windows and some food? I really like fish!" he offered, allowing his heart to slow down slightly as he forced enthusiasm into his bones. "And probably my clothes back, too. It would make me more comfortable, if I am going to be here a while!" He gave his most innocent, winsome smile, beaming as brightly as he could while still- totally not at all nervous. Yeah. That. He really hoped he wasn't stuck for too long. Was it too much to ask for a map? No, he'd either steal one (he was unfortunately quite good at stealing things) or go without one, or maybe ask if North Korea looked at all like he'd suggest one. Otherwise, he'd play it safe for now. Of, well, safe-ish. He wasn't going to rule out just kicking the man and running.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2015 20:15:09 GMT -5
Of course Sealand had made a mistake. He’d stepped way further out of line. Few nations attempted to invade North Korea and fewer tried to take his citizens. Rescue, take, whatever it was the same. Most of the time it was the citizens themselves that did this; it was still the citizens who had brought Peter into this. So of course, Sealand had taken a wrong step and of course he’d underestimated North Korea. Yong-Sun was on his own level and though the other nation would most likely never admit it, Russia was afraid of him. Many countries saw him as volatile and unbalanced. Over the years, he’d adopted such a façade. Was it a façade? Was it real? Did anyone actually know? Not many of his people ever were seen after all.
So was North Korea insane? That was an unknown even if people thought he was and sure his behavior didn’t help it, but it just wasn’t a for sure thing. North Korea was a genius; perhaps his country didn’t have the technology of the Western World or at least most of his citizens didn’t have access to it, but Yong-Sun? Yong-Sun was a genius with electronics, knew several languages, including quite a few dead ones. A mad genius perhaps, but he held an IQ and instinct to rival many. Another thing Korea was, was changeable. His personality, mannerisms, mood could change on a dime. He could be charming, innocent, deadly, and wrathful. And without a doubt he was obsessive and more dangerous than the young child nation before him could ever fathom.
Besides the question of his stupidity had been a rhetorical one. Which brought a chuckle from him when Sealand actually responded—wasn’t that adorable? He shifted on one foot and tilted his head and his smile grew. And the funny thing was, he wasn’t even a bit angry. Not at the fact that Peter still felt it necessary to try and play brave nor when he actually called him a sociopath.
Actually that last thing brought a hysterical laugh from Yong-Sun’s lips. “Little one, you wound me,” he shook his head and tried to stop laughing, “that you think I don’t care about my people or that you even presume to know what I do and why. Of course there’s truth to every rumor about me, I suppose, but the amount?” He shrugged. “I don’t listen much to the Western Nations so I wouldn’t know what they really presume of me.” It was a lie of course, but he easily played it off. “After all, an indifference to the West is part of my upbringing too.”
No offense, not loss of his excitement to have a new face visiting. Oh and he was from the West! Just wait until he told Russia that he had this little nation! First he’d find out who he was really of course, but then oh! He’d tell China and Russia about his new guest. Of course they wouldn’t be allowed to harm the nation.
At that North Korea’s stature became still. No one would hurt Peter. No one.
Yet the nation did resemble him. Yong-Sun had not been born as the dictator or unsettling country he was thought to be. Monsters were not born after all, they were created and the youth and hope he could see in Sealand, Sun had once felt himself.
If only he still did.
His face softened as the nation came to him and Yong-Sun got on a knee before him. “No need to be afraid, young nation,” he told him and pulled a pocket knife from his uniform. He flicked it open and the cuffs were gone. “I have no idea who you are either and yes it was rude, but they were only doing their job. Though I am sorry,” he nodded to his injured arm. “Do you mind if I bind that for you?” Because of course North Korea knew of the injury and of course he’d not punish anyone for doing their job.
They’d captured a nation, after all. That was something to be commended for, not scolded.
North Korea smiled at Peter. He smiled like he believed his enthusiasm and stood up, taking the hand of the nation. “I will do what I can and I am certain we can give you fish.” He began to lead him out of the cell and gave a nod to the commander who’d informed him and his boss. They turned and left.
Yong-Sun waited until they were out of sight before he gazed down at Peter. He’d be here until he either managed to escape or someone came for him. “I believe first we should find your clothes. I happen to know where they are.” He gave a winning smile.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 18, 2015 16:18:05 GMT -5
Peter was getting even more unnerved as he watched North Korea. This- this wasn't how things were supposed to go. The man was just laughing again, as though Peter was simply highly amusing and as though he hadn't just insulted the man. North Korea was, in other words, continuing to act absolutely nothing how Peter expected because he wansn't actually mad and that was slightly terrifying. It shouldn't be. It was better that Peter wasn't making the highly dangerous man that he was currently prisoner of angry, right? Except, well, he should have at least been annoyed, right? Not have this almost indulgent and happy expression on his face, right? He swallowed. No. He couldn't afford to get unnerved by a good thing, but, there was sonothing about it, something about his expression-
He ignored it. Instead, Peter answered another rhetorical question. It was mostly an attempt to start himself up talking so that he'd feel better about his entire situation. It didn't really work because all he wound up saying was "Most of them say you're crazy, actually," and then realize he'd answered something the man hadn't even asked. He might as well go on. "and I guess I haven't heard much else. I'm not allowed to be in the meetings involving you, 'cause apparently I'm too young or something," he muttered, and then frowned. "I mean, wasn't allowed... I guess they aren't having much by way of meetings that aren't for war strategy or something these days, and I can't even sneak into most of those..." He trailed off, out of words to say. Well then. That hadn't been the most successful of calming strategies, though he was a bit calmer because he seemed to be mostly out of the red zone.
For... some reason.
Okay. Okay. He really and to stop looking a gift horse in the mouth. He really did, because if North Korea liked him great! It didn't matter if it was entirely the opposite of how he'd imagined this sort of thing ever going, ever. It was probably actually better! Peter forced himself to relax, though he surprised himself as he actually started to succeed. Was that a good or a bad thing? He didn't know, but it was certainly a thing. North Korea's expression was oddly soft- or maybe not oddly- as he did something that was particularly odd. He seemed to be trying to comfort him, explain that the guards would be fine, and cut free his hands. Peter blinked owlishly for a moment, uncertain of how to react as he rubbed his hands together. His left arm still hurt, and this was a little bit more confusing and not black-and-white than he'd expected.
"...thanks," he said very quietly quietly, looking down at his wrists. "And- and I guess, if you can, you should bind it? It won't be bad for too much longer, though, I don't think. My physiology's weird, even for a Nation, so it couldn't have hit anything too vital," he explained, probably still looking a little stunned that North Korea had actually just undid his handcuffs. Vaguely, he wondered if North Korea had not perhaps already realized that, what with the exposed metal on Peter's side. He was a little distracted, though, trying to figure out what was going on. He just couldn't understand. He just couldn't understand what was going on, why North Korea would like him- because, while Peter was hardly an expert at reading faces, he was good at it, and it was not the tight, fake smile Russia had given him once that Peter was seeing. Not at all.
So Peter looked at the Nation on his knees and smiling in front of him and decided that he was going to just go along with whatever was happening and calm down, and he did. It wasn't like he trusted North Korea. He didn't. But Peter was adaptable if nothing else and so he'd adapt and his heartrate normalized and he let out some kind of breath he didn't know he was holding. Peter took North Korea's hand because it was offered, not out of affection, and if for a moment he had to re-balance himself because he hadn't been this badly injured in a while he hoped it wasn't noticed.
He then clumsily changed the subject. "What kind of fish do they catch around here?" he asked curiously. "I'll eat any of it, but-" he blushed slightly- "I've had lots and lots and lots of haddok and I don't think they catch that here but I, um, might prefer a different kind of fish? I live in the middle of the ocean so fish is easy food to get and I don't like having the food that's hard to get for myself so I've eaten lots and lots and lots of fish," he explained. "I like fish a lot, so that's good! Just, um, I might like a Kind of fish that's not in the North Sea..." He rubbed the back of his head out of instinct but quickly lowered his arm again. He'd taken North Korea's hand with his right hand, so he'd just lifted his left arm a little higher than was probably smart. Ah, well...
He slowly walked after the odd man that was still a little unnerving but he could ignore the unnerving part until he knew how to deal with it. As he stepped out of the cell with no fanfare, his original plan of kicking whoever found him in a painful place faded and he began to try to think of a new one. He could use this, somehow, probably. It was certainly a better plan than trying to outrun everyone. He smiled up, but, while he'd mostly calmed down (and that might not be a good thing), he was still planning in his head. "Oh! You do? Great!"
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Post by Deleted on May 2, 2015 17:23:44 GMT -5
North Korea was becoming more and more amused as Peter became more and more anxious. What was more amusing that taking people by surprise? Everyone, every nation and person was just so certain they knew who Yong-Sun was. They knew how he acted. That was why he wasn’t mad—couldn’t be mad. That was the point wasn’t it? No one could truly know just who sat behind that grinning mask. Well, perhaps one did, but only if he let himself see it; so many were so blind, though. Western, Eastern, there was nothing to be angry or annoyed about. Let them have their fun, let them think they knew. And then just wait…
It would be so fun to pull the floor from under them and watch every single one of them fall. After all it was all their faults. Their blindness and greed had shaped the nation thought monster before Peter. He only put the pieces they gave him together. Hate the message, not the messenger.
“It’s a pity all the negotiations have stopped, isn’t it,” Sun asked as if he hadn’t heard what was said before, “if we nations were still willing to stand the presence of one another in a room together, do you think we’d have careened like a boat onto the rocky shoals of this war?” He shrugged. “I think not. Besides I miss getting to see Yong Soo—I’m sure you know him. South Korea…Those meetings were the only place I regularly saw him. He doesn’t much speak to me.” At this North Korea sighed and linked his hands together. “I miss seeing him happy, I mean. I could always see him, of course…but he hates me nowadays. I wish he just understood.” He glanced up and then shook his head. “But that’s none of your business, no need to listen to an old country lament about better times,” he smiled and waved his hand. “Now what were we talking about? Oh yes!” And just like that he was back to his old self.
He freed him and reassured him. No guilt should come weigh on his conscious. It was already too late to save such a young nation from the terrors of war, but he could be sure he wouldn’t see any more by his fault. He didn’t want to see the young nation frightened so, even if it was amusing. Two sides of him were at battle, but it was easy to see which one was slowly winning the favor.
Yet the nation would well to understand that nothing was ever black and white. No nation was wholly good or evil. Every one of them had sins and virtues in their pasts. They had killed, maimed, tortured their people. They had been hypocrites, lustful, conquering, and yet loving. No one had a history free of bloodshed or pain. History was the story their people told while their history was scars and shattered relations. Their histories were the stuff of dreams and nightmares.
Was it so hard to understand that North Korea, monster as he was called, and rightfully so could also be caring? He hated seeing children in pain, he hated watching young nations tainted by blood and carelessness. He had been a nation like that. Appa had disappeared on him and Soo and then the Japanese came and he’d…
Soo did not suffer as he did and Sun would never regret that. Soo would be happy with lighter memories. He was a strong nation, beloved, and Sun was proud of him. If he had to be the monster then for now he would be happy to be. If only Soo knew how to be truly happy. Yet Yong-Sun smiled brightly for Peter. This little nation would be truly kindly and fairly and soon someone would come for him. Sun would decide how to traverse that situation when it knocked upon his door.
For now he inspected the wound and nodded. “It will heal fine, but I do not wish for it to be another scar for you. No bad memory,” he told him as he sat on his knees. Peter didn’t have to trust him, North Korea knew he was cautious, but he also knew he meant his words. No scars, no bad memories. His smile grew into that of a happy caregiver when Sealand took his hand. He didn’t bring attention to the fact that he did notice the younger nation had to reorient himself and he didn’t frown. Even if he wanted to.
No bad memories. So when Peter changed the topic to food, Yong-Sun latched onto it.
“No, haddock. I don’t even know what that is or tastes like. We have sturgeon and eels, oh, and carp,” he grinned. “The carp is amazing! I’ll have you made some!” He glanced at him and went a moment. He’d seen the pain cross the nation’s face. “Would you like anything else? Rice, eggs? We have plenty of easily accessed food if that’s what you are so worried about.” The last thing he wanted was Peter even more concerned. He was already worried enough about other things and Korea knew he was just trying to figure out how to escape. It’d be interesting to see if he came up with a plan to do so that worked. Still he’d have him put under strict surveillance. After all, if you enter North Korea uninvited you usually didn’t leave.
Not that Peter wasn’t allowed to leave. Absolutely not. It just wasn’t preferred. It wasn’t going to happen. North Korea wanted to see who rescued him or if maybe Russia convinced him to let the nation go.
He nodded to the nation. “Yes, clothes first! And you can tell me all about your nation in the middle of the ocean! I know you are not Australia and still do not know who you are, but you are welcome to North Korea’s hospitality. My household will make sure you are cared for. I would be sad and rude if I was not good host.”
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Post by Deleted on May 3, 2015 15:46:24 GMT -5
Without meaning to, Peter relaxed his guard. It wasn't so much that he wasn't still on alert- he couldn't afford to be on anything but alert these days. But things kept on not happening and okay, okay, he could deal with that, and Peter had always been the sort of person to trust a little bit too quickly. Sure, he didn't really trust the man in front of him, that would be dangerous. It was simply that Peter stopped actively distrusting his every action as his subconscious rearranged itself to adapt to yet another new situation, rearranged itself to deal with figuring out what was genuine and wasn't genuine later, some later date, when he didn't have to assume everything was genuine to stay safe and when he didn't have to actively keep someone else liking him.
So instead of immediately getting guarded again when North Korea starts talking again, Peter does what he tends to do and starts talking himself. "I, er, well, when all of this started I thought about trying to put padlocks on the doors of the meeting room and shouting at everyone to get along, but I think that wouldn't have helped anything at all, really, and would have just made them all mad at me..." He looked down. "It's just really stupid that everyone's fighting like this, is all. Just- it just hurts everyone," he said quietly, "and helps no one at all."
And then, somewhere in Peter's head? He sympathised. He felt empathy for the man, because, well... In a voice that was quiet with only the slightest bitterness but mostly with the feeling of someone who wished he had a better answer, someone who regretted a little bit of it but also just wished things were different: "Being siblings doesn't mean they understand, doesn't even mean they'll stay..." It didn't matter, in that moment, that Peter would probably agree more with North Korea's southern sibling than with the man himself. It was just a sudden flash of understanding, a moment of words that Peter hadn't entirely intended to say but meant with all of his heart. You're even not a real country! No, siblings didn't always understand, and they didn't always stay.
A moment later, Peter wasn't even sure why he'd said that. He didn't want to understand, and he didn't want to feel the degree of empathy he'd suddenly felt for the man that Peter was still fairly certain wasn't a good person. He didn't want to project his own abandonment issues and problems onto other man and he certainly didn't think now was the time for Peter to think of things like that, not when he was already forcing smiles due to circumstances, not even when he hadn't seen his own brother in a long time, either, not even when the people Peter considered family most of all weren't the one that was related to him. Now wasn't the time.
So he fell silent for a moment to regather his thoughts, to ignore the sudden shift towards the sorts of things he just couldn't deal with at the moment. He took another calming breath, hoping that North Korea didn't notice it, before chasing it all out of mind for the time being. Besides, if North Korea was now smiling for him, Peter could smile nervously back, at the very least. He could manage that much, he really could, especially since he was good at smiling when things hurt or were confusing. So he did.
He let the man look over his wounded arm before nodding quietly and with semi-forced brightness on his face. "See? I knew I'd be fine! It shouldn't be too bad, nothing attacked my People directly, just me. No bad memories," he repeated. This, while it wouldn't be good memory, didn't line up with Peter's worst, not even sort of. He wasn't too badly hurt (yes he'd been shot but it wasn't like it was an armor-piercing bullet, wasn't like it had quite cut through the steel entirely), and his actual People hadn't been hurt. Also, he wasn't alone at all, even if he didn't really trust the person he was with.
(Peter's worst memories had always been when he was alone.)
So when North Korea picked up his clunky subject change to foods without any sort of questioning, Peter just took it up without questions himself. He did this often, this constant dance of avoiding the bad subjects when he could and just putting together the good ones, especially when he was already tense. When he was already a little tense, he said things he didn't mean to say, and then he couldn't ever take them back, because he never said things he didn't at least sort of mean on some level, even if they were things he didn't entirely mean, and so they would never really go away, never really go away at all.
"You will? Thank you!" said Peter, smiling as he said it. "That sounds great! You- you pick what kind you like, I'll take that," he said, finishing the statement automatically. 'You pick what you'll like, I'll take what's left.' That's what Peter did automatically these days, go with what the people around him either wanted or didn't need and accepting that. It helped when he ran a country with no money to just not take the things that other people would want to take, to just be as not-picky as possible. He was, after all, adaptable above all else, and could adapt to other peoples' tastes very quickly. This was one situation where he figured it would come in handy. "I don't know what of your kinds of food is good, after all!" he added, even though that wasn't the real reason at all that he'd delegated choosing to someone else.
He walked after the man, looking around as he did, trying to commit the hallways to memory as best he could. With luck, Peter's ability to find his way around places would get him out, or at least sort of get him out, if he could just get the hallways memorized, just figure out where, exactly, he was. He wondered if just walking out of the door would be, perhaps, a bit bold. Probably. He'd probably only attempt that one once his level of sleep got to a critically low level, but, knowing him, he was going to try that at least once. Ah, well...
Peter gave a startled laugh when North Korea mentioned that he wasn't Australia. "But- Mister Australia and I? We- we don't even look alike! I mean, I guess we both sort of have my brother's eyebrows, but, I mean, just- just wait until Wy hears about this, she'll think it's hilarious! I mean, if I see her again sometime soon! Hutt River, he'll think it's great too!" He giggled. "I mean, I don't suddenly have a death koala- I think Wy called it a drop bear once- following me around or something, do I?"
Peter had met Wy and Hutt River's older brother a few times. His koala was scary. After laughing for a minute, he composed himself. He really shouldn't be cracking up at things someone who was definitely holding him hostage was saying, but he couldn't entirely resist. He'd never been compared to Australia, of all people, before. Sometimes his most direct brother, but never Australia. He supposed he was tangentially related to the man, but he just couldn't see it.
"Sorry, sorry, just, that comparison... I guess we are sorta related, though, since England's my older brother..." he got an odd look over his face. "...which means a lot of people just think of me as England's annoying little brother, actually." He looked at North Korea. "If I'm going to be thought of in relation to someone, though, I prefer my adoptive Daddy, Sweden, to anyone else! Um... um, my name's Peter. Most people use Kirkland, but I prefer Bates- that's my boss's family's last name," he said. He figured at this point that North Korea would know who he was quickly enough as it was, and he might as well give the man a name to use. He was still reluctant to tell his man about what Nation he represented, his overprotective streak suddenly flaring up as he spoke, as well as his knowledge that he was on thin ice no matter what he did.
He'd said too much anyway. "Er, well, I'm also the Principality of Sealand, and we're neutral because I still think the fighting's stupid, and I'm a former British naval base in the middle of the North Sea." He looked down. "You gotta promise you won't try to hurt anyone from there, now that I've told you who I am, 'cause if you do- just, don't." He wasn't certain he could convince the man not to, but he seemed to like Peter well enough, and if Peter could get that much out of North Korea it would be greatly comforting to him.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 30, 2015 22:32:25 GMT -5
North Korea had been content to listen to the young nation as he casually walked through the long, dank, and musty corridors of the holding cells. It was best that nothing more was said to describe the place. It was quiet now, but come morning it would be so much louder and that just wasn’t productive for his image with the nation. No. It would be too disturbing; the poor thing didn’t deserve to see something so traumatic. It had been his people who had wanted to run away, after all. You have a demand and someone will offer a product. He may not have incorporated Western economy, but he knew enough about it.
Yong-Sun giggled to himself. Of course he knew about it! These silly countries who thought he was stuck in the dark ages. Foolish. His country had their bad times, but sacrifice was always necessary in order for change to take place. The rich had to offer the poor and the poor had to match effort. They needed to be self-sufficient. How could he let his nation fall like so many others? Even Russia and China had had to give in. His hand almost curled at the thought, but then he stopped. He glanced back at Sealand and offered a friendly smile. He’d been lost in his own thoughts, but he’d heard what this smaller Western nation had said. He could listen too.
Something about how everyone wasn’t getting along and stuff about siblings. That he understood and Sun couldn’t help but find his horrified face amusing. Wasn’t it just horrible when you agreed with the monster? When you understood? Yet he sympathized without guilt or hesitation that this country knew his pain and so young.
He wished he could hug him, but he refrained. Instead he listened quietly as he continued down the hallway and listened to him. Then he was told the name of the nation. Peter…Sealand. Oh yes! But his excitement was quickly washed away. He turned to Peter and tilted his head.
“Why would I hurt anyone from your country,” he asked and his brow furrowed. “That wouldn’t be practical, right? Besides who would want to harm you? You have a lot of growing to do to become strong like your brother and adoptive father.” He nodded. “And I didn’t think you were Australia…you’re just an island nation too.” He shrugged but then waved his hand and continued to walk again. When he stopped it was before a door. He opened it. “You can get dressed and I’ll wait here. While you get dressed I’ll make sure dinner is being prepared for you.”
He pulled out his cell phone and without any more mind for the moment, he started to speak quick Korean into it, ordering their best fish to be prepared especially for their guest.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 2, 2015 23:56:00 GMT -5
There was something oddly fascinating about the expressions North Korea liked to wear. Even compared to Peter's own, they were just so, so very loud. There wasn't really another way for Peter to explain them. It wasn't that they were perfectly honest expressions, because honestly, Peter had no idea. They were simply... simply... loud, and he needed a better word than that but there was no better way to put it. They were practically screaming for attention, screaming out what they intended to be saying. Even if they weren't really honest, there was something earnest and genuine about all of them.
Honestly? That almost made them more unsettling than Russia's perpetual smile. At least when Russia was smiling like that, it wasn't so painfully loud. It wasn't so painfully earnest. At least there, Peter could still figure out where he stood, hear the real message behind the smile's practiced humming. Here, his head was left reeling in the noise of those expressions. Here, he couldn't hear what was actually being said over the overwhelming noise. What wound up happening was exactly what Peter always wound up doing next to other very loud emotions and expressions: he bent, sometimes in the wrong way, sure, but he reacted to the noise, joined in with it without thinking.
Even as North Korea, briefly lost in some ugly thoughts, turned around to give Peter a surprisingly soft sort of smile, Peter couldn't help but return it with a slightly tentative one of his own. He didn't even really know if he should, but then again, if there was one thing that could never hurt a situation worse, it was a smile, no matter how forced, no matter how tentative. As long as there was some real joy behind it, there could be no true wrong in its presence. It would probably even just make things better. Or at least, that's how Peter always thought.
When he spoke again, Peter started for a moment, before sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. He was right, of course. Other than the rumors that North Korea was utterly and completely off his rocker, there wasn't actually any reason for Peter to worry. That didn't mean he wouldn't. There was no good reason for Russia to threaten him either, but that didn't mean that Peter wasn't left with bitter scraps anyway. "You're right, it wouldn't make sense, I just worry," he mumbles. He figures he has every right to be worried, anyway, and anyone who says otherwise is lying. "I sometimes say stuff that makes people mad at me, so, uh..." He shrugs, his speech falling off of some kind of verbal cliff. He can't quite figure out how to say what he intends to say, so he'll leave it where it is.
That isn't to say that he doesn't puff up at the idea of someday being as big and strong as his Daddy. That would be a dream for Peter, really. He's about to comment on that when North Korea comments on the Australia thing, and Peter's thoughts slide somewhere else. "Does Australia count as an island?" he says, sounding slightly baffled. "I could have sworn he was a continent..." Then, a moment later, he realizes that this was not the most important misconception there (though maybe Australia was an island? He wasn't entirely certain. He was pretty sure he was a continent, but...). "Also, I'm not actually an "island" nation, though I suppose it makes sense you'd guess that, given the situation?"
Here comes an interesting problem: explaining what a micronation is in a way that doesn't belittle Peter himself through his words. It was an old problem. Peter used to describe it horribly, too, before someone pointed out that he was only hurting his own self-esteem, not boosting it. He considered for a moment. All in? "I'm actually a fort from the Second World War that my first boss found and declared a Nation after my brother said that I was completely out of jurisdiction," he explained slowly. He was blushing a little, only because he didn't like talking about how small he was. He was ridiculously proud, but in situations like this he wanted to sound strong, he wanted to sound big. The problem was, he... didn't. "That's why my wound probably looked weird, actually- I'm a lot made of metal," he explained, shrugging.
For some reason, he really, really didn't want this complete stranger to judge him like everyone else. Not that it even mattered. It was North Korea, what did he care what he thought? It wasn't like he had an opinion worth much at all, anyway. He really needed to stop clinging to things like this. It didn't matter what people Peter wasn't supposed to like thought of him. He didn't even have to fight so hard to be recognized, right now. He had to fight for other things.
After a moment, they stopped in front of a door. Peter blinked. He was going to go in there, alone? That almost seemed like an appropriate excuse to escape. It almost seemed like North Korea was encouraging it. Of course, there probably wasn't a good escape path, and the fact that Peter could put an unusual amount of momentum and weight behind his hard and heavy metal fists probably wasn't accounted for, since most people couldn't break glass windows with a fast enough punch. Peter could, but that was mostly because he was basically throwing a large, dense steel and concrete paperweight at the window, at which point the window stopped standing a chance. There probably weren't breakable windows, though. Plus, Peter's arm still hurt, was still just recently wrapped up, and would definitely keep on hurting. He didn't heal fast compared to other Nations, though he did mostly end up with shallower wounds, thanks to the steel beneath his skin.
Peter finally just nodded and went inside. He was immediately greeted with two facts: yes, there was a window, but no, he wasn't getting out of it. It was against the ceiling, long and narrow, and he could hardly see out of it, thanks to the angle. Maybe, though, if he stacked some chairs... No. He was probably just going to fall and bend an arm or leg out of shape. Besides, now that he looked again, there was also definitely a glassbreak detector on the window. He wasn't tired enough yet to try something that would immediately bring most of the guards to the location.
Ironically, though, Peter was pretty sure that this particular glassbreak detector was mostly intended to prevent people from breaking in, not from breaking out. It would still detect the window shattering, though, since it relied off of noise. Actually, Peter could probably deactivate that, if he tried hard enough. He'd just have to remember what he knew about security systems, and then forget some of it because North Korea probably would have made up some new, non-standard way of making it work, considering that Peter was fairly certain he didn't particularly care what anywhere else considered "standard". He considered again whether stacking up furniture, climbing, and deactivating the alarm was going to be possible, but considering that he was more likely to just set off the alarm...
No. Now wasn't going to be the time, though suddenly he was completely itching to get out again. He finally just changed back into his own clothes (one of the sleeves, of course, was horribly torn up, and they were a mess, but half of Peter's clothes could be best described as "a mess" so...) and came out, looking somewhere between disappointed that he couldn't figure something else out and rather more comfortable now that he actually had his own clothes on. He shifted uncomfortably in front of the door. He had taken a little longer than necessary while he tried to figure out if there was a good way out from in there, but he still didn't take very long, and he came out to North Korea saying something that Peter had no hope of understanding in Korean on his phone. Peter looked left and right. Worth it to sneak away while he's distracted?
Peter saw a guard and sighed. Nope. Not worth it. He'd be caught in thirty seconds, by that guard if not by North Korea's peripheral vision. He'd keep his eyes out, though, so that hopefully when he got tired or upset enough to try something stupid he did something stupid, but at least somewhat reasonable, and so that when someone slipped up he'd notice and get his chance.
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do not forget me
About thirty years ago, Israel's boss was assasinated. By who, well, no one knows, but Israel immediately blamed Iran. Of course, that alone wouldn't have started World War III, even though Israel and Iran's various allies declared war in quick succession.
Nah, the nuclear bomb in the middle of Jerusalem probably did it.
Now? Now the rest is history. The world's been at war for thirty years, thirty years of bloodshed and pain. No one else has reached for the nuclear option quite yet, but no one's happy. So if we all die- well, do not forget me, okay?
updates
10/15/2020 Do Not Forget Me: a dark hetalia RPG is re-opened!
credits
Do Not Forget Me was created by Waffles and Jonathan and amazing layout and coding is thanks to SO-4 . Content is copyrighted to Do Not Forget Me unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney The mini-profile remodel is by Trinity Blair of Adoxography. Thanks!
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