From Yesterday [England] | Do Not Forget Me

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From Yesterday [England] Jun 13, 2016 21:17:44 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jun 13, 2016 21:17:44 GMT -5

Japan blamed no one for what had happened—at least not his allies. How could he? They were all embroiled on the European front trying to stop the siege of Russia. So much land had already been lost and many countries captured. Even one was too many a prize for the Joint Pact. He had been worried too with the United States being close to Russia with its northernmost state. Yes, his allies had much on their plate. It was not logical to hold a grudge against them nor could he so he didn’t. Russia had distracted them all—and captured Germany—and none of them could have fathomed that China would have done such a thing. Not even him. He’d not even seen it coming.

He'd left Alfred’s house and landed in London several days ago, but instead of continuing his journey to the Southeast and back to his island home, he’d lingered there in the capital of Arthur’s home. All around him people treated him with respect, though were perplexed why they felt as if they should. It was the same with any Nation’s personification. He ignored them. Kiku spent his time walking down avenues, strolling through parks, and drinking tea at England’s local cafes. He enjoyed fish and chips, scones, and smiled as he did so. America always called Arthur’s cuisine horrid. Japan found it new and loved cream and jam on his scones. Physically he was completely healed, but the scars remained mentally.

He’d assured Alfred that he would be alright, but there were still far too many nights that he awoke from reliving the scene of Yao’s betrayal. His chest would be wrenching in the phantom of remembered pain and his breath would come in choking gasps. His eyes would mist with hot tears that overflowed and trickled down his cheeks and off his chin. Though the bullet that had pierced him was no longer there, the emotional trauma remained. He knew these symptoms intimately, but they had come so scarcely lately he doubted he suffered from the PTSD of America’s Nuclear attacks any longer. That day had long faded into the past. Yet all it had taken was Yao to shot him in the back to summon curdling nightmares once more. Yet even America had not left him with such an ache in his chest that had nothing to do with physical bullets.

The heartbeak was suffocating. He’d valued Yao so highly and respected him. Yet Yao just couldn’t see it! If he was poisoned by the West, then China was poisoned by Russia. Russia who had taken his own insecurities and turned Yao against his very family! Just because that nation couldn’t keep friends as a result of his cruelty, didn’t mean Yao couldn’t. Why couldn’t he see that he had an entire family who loved him?!

How could he have attacked Kiku when the nation had come peacefully? Had stated he was coming peacefully? How could he?

Japan pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window he stared out of. He should probably have been seated; that was the polite thing to do while he waited in Arthur’s sitting room, but he couldn’t. His heart was beating much too fast and his entire body was filled with nervous energy at the path his thoughts were running. He closed his hand into a fist and leaned his forehead next against the clear pane of the picture window. Alfred’s reaction had soothed him, but it was only a slight ointment. It was hardly enough.

A dark part of his mind whispered he deserved the bullet after all the pain he’d caused China. A bullet wound was not a wide, arching scar on his back after all.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed at the turbulent emotions to cease. He had to be collected and poised. He did not wish to trouble Arthur. What he did wish was that the nation would soon appear to draw his attention away from the shadows his mind was slipping into.

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From Yesterday [England] Jun 14, 2016 22:02:50 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jun 14, 2016 22:02:50 GMT -5

Since the start of the war and since Hong Kong was residing with him at his home, Arthur had taken up to hiring a housekeeper, if only to keep the home clean and functional while everything else was going on. And the money set aside for the extra hands would do some small bit of good elsewhere. It was the housekeep who told Arthur about his guest while he was in the study. He’d been going over some correspondence that he had just received from his own secret service officials and upon feeling the presence of another nation in his own home, Arthur immediately locked them away. The name she'd given him caused his reservations to fade. ”I’ll just be a moment,” he responded, sighing over the rest of what he had scattered across his desk before finally leaving the room filled with troublesome thoughts behind.

He ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair, only musing it a bit further as he made his way down the corridor and closer to the drawing room where he usually had the housekeep leave visitors. Where there was usually golden brandy on the table, tobacco, books, and other intrigues. But, as expected with what was currently going on… Kiku was staring out the window, seemingly uninterested in the unspoken offerings. Arthur paused quietly for a moment at the arched opening into the room, his fingers fiddling with the edge of his white sleeve, currently rolled to his elbows while working. He steadily approached him, making just enough noise for the other to hear him coming steadily across the room. Arthur’s eyes shifted from Kiku’s closed-eyed expression to the grey, but pleasant enough London weather just past the windowpane.

Arthur drew a little closer, slightly behind, but standing next to him, his eyes briefly on the overcast before glancing at Kiku’s profile. ”Dull weather we’re having, isn’t it?” He remarked softly, his fingers moved to trail slowly up along the side of Kiku’s arm, his eyes assessing as if to come to his own conclusion over the other nation’s health, physical and otherwise. As his hand traveled to the back of his shoulder, his thumb grazed along the natural curve of his shoulder, still soft and inquiring. ”I’m glad you came to see me. I've thought about you since the incident… What’s done was atrocious, absolutely without cause. And it won’t go unanswered.” Of course, he ended his soft words with something that was mildly threatening with regards to the nation responsible. Arthur had his own thoughts and own further concerns with China being so willing to violently turn against his own family. And he feared for who else in that family circle could possibly have that gun pointed at them next. Not even Arthur could pull the trigger on Alfred when he had the chance; the thought turned his stomach.

But he pulled his thoughts briefly away as he turned his words in a direction that he was most curious about. ”How’re you right now?” He assumed that Kiku had recovered somewhat while in the States, but he was still curious over the rest of him, not exactly with the physical evidence of violence against his skin. And pausing just a tad, he leaned a bit closer, the edge of his mouth barely grazing against the outer shell of Kiku's ear, a whispering touch against the skin. ”...Do you want to get back at him?” Arthur inquired before retreating back a moment later, far enough to catch his expression, his own curious and quietly observing while he reached to pour himself a brandy, raising the glass slightly in a wordless offer.

.....

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From Yesterday [England] Jun 15, 2016 13:20:41 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jun 15, 2016 13:20:41 GMT -5

❝

It is a cruel dream: at the end of my day your gravity reaches such a long way. Here in the moonsea it is a cruel dream. Don’t share the past, if you won’t share your heart all that we share is the view of these stars.

❞

Japan was the land of ninjas of stealth and balance. He recalled the arcs of the katana; the lightning swing of the blade leaving only a flash before it was against the enemy’s throat. He could hear the sway of grasses and so it was no feat to hear Arthur enter the room, though his lips did quirk as Britain made a little more noise as he approached him. He was certain that Arthur knew his presence had been noticed, but Kiku did not turn to face him just yet. It was only when Arthur’s voice broke the otherwise silence that his brown eyes opened once more.

It had taken no more than that accented timbre to bring his thoughts to slow, if not stop completely their darkened sway. He slid his gaze over and just barely caught the sight of the United Kingdom out of the corner of his eyes. “I would not say dull,” he answered, “different perhaps. Beautiful in its own way.” Everything had its own beauty: pain, pleasure, the sun, moon, stars, the weather. He sighed as he felt Arthur’s fingers. The West was a culture of physical touch which differed from his own roots. Gestures, words, looks to pass down meaning. He’d grown accustomed to European ways, however, had even taken to them. Arthur was just another of a few that he didn’t only accept touches of, but whose touch he liked. He’d been standing straight as if a wire had held him tight and aloft, but all it took was the slightest graze of England’s thumb and he relaxed. “Was it Alfred who told you,” he made his own inquiry, but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he just nodded. “Without cause.” Just as he had attacked China without cause when he’d attempted to take Nanking?

He’d paid for all that, though, hadn’t he? Two atomic bombs, a war tribunal, those territories taken from him, and reparations. Becoming a ward in America’s supervision in all except name so he would never terrorize the Asian Pacific again. Yet that had all changed now. Now he would rise up as he once had. Would China come to bare another scar in his name? His family was nothing like Arthur’s. He remembered when his sword had sliced through the skin and muscle of Yao’s back. He also remembered the hot tears of mingled rage and anguish that painted his tongue as he panted. The blood had stained the ground crimson and dripped from the steel of his katana. His hand reached down as if to grip the weapon. It wasn’t there, though. Of course, it wasn’t.

His hand fell back to his side and tilted his head. “Would you like to see the scar?” He smiled. “I am well. Physically my wounds are healed and scarred. Emotionally, I am in a much better state than when I brought myself to Alfred’s doorstep.” He had thought of coming to Arthur’s or Francis’s, even to Germany’s home where Prussia could probably be found, but his mind had bid him to run. Run to the safety of another country. A country whose temper would sizzle like the fire of his nuclear bombs.

Kiku’s body jolted, his skin prickled to feel Arthur’s breath. He swallowed at the brush of his mouth against his ear. Then his eyes darkened.

He turned around and finally he faced Arthur. He took in his slightly mussed blonde hair, his curious and yet mischievous gaze. He took in his attire and the amber liquid of the brandy. He stepped forward and artfully poured himself his own glass. He took a sip of the bitter liquid. “I too was once a dragon of the East. He has awoken that force once more; don’t you know that dragons are hard to soothe,” he lifted a brow and smirked. Another sip of brandy.

Did he want to get back at him? Yes was too gentle a word.

658 WORDS ● TAGGED: ENGLAND

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Last Edit: Jun 15, 2016 13:30:49 GMT -5 by Deleted

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From Yesterday [England] Jan 7, 2017 19:02:25 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jan 7, 2017 19:02:25 GMT -5

Hearing Kiku’s words for the London weather had unexpectedly pleased Arthur, perhaps because very few ever thought to look past what might be considered dull and dreary to pin any sort of beauty over its natural mechanisms. London couldn’t change how it was, but people could shift their perspective. And perhaps Arthur wasn’t even really thinking of London at this moment, so his appreciation for the words felt a little more tangible. ”Not very many call it beautiful. But I appreciate your insight,” Arthur responded in a surprisingly mild manner. And hearing Kiku’s question whether it was Alfred who had told him, Arthur responded somewhat vaguely, only because he had heard it from multiple sources and couldn’t remember exactly which source had brought it to his attention first. ”Alfred and I talk fairly often,” he admitted.

Arthur raised his brow slightly at Kiku’s wording over having been attacked by another nation ‘without cause’ and his lips curled very slightly with a derisive sort of amusement, perhaps because the truth of the matter was, everything had cause. ”Well… truthfully, nothing is ever really without cause with our kind, is it? We’ve all been so entwined, involved in each other’s lives for so long, there can always be a conveniently discovered cause for something or other.” They were all so very vindictive like that. It created more ammunition, more hatred, and an intensified desire for further revenge the longer that they lived. They fed the cycle until it was a voracious monster that could never be satisfied, no matter how often or how dedicatedly it was fed.

When Kiku asked him if he would like to see his scar, Arthur allowed his touch to fade in order to give him his full attention. ”It’s not necessary,” he responded quietly. Normally, Arthur kept his own scars away from the eyes of others as much as possible, if only to safeguard his own pride. That, or because normally, he was a supremely private nation. And he offered Kiku that same courtesy. ”But, it’s good to hear that you’re doing well,” he murmured. At least well enough as he could be with what little time had passed since the incident. But time was also very irrelevant at times with their kind.

He was pleased, both internally, and it had shown outwardly with the mischievous sheen of his own gaze when Kiku poured himself a drink upon Arthur’s nonverbal request. It felt like the start of an agreement of sorts, an unspoken and informal one. Arthur took another sip of his own brandy with Kiku when he had tasted his own. His lips curved with the other's words. Oh, yes, it was clear that Japan held a thirst for retribution, and his blood was hot for it. That much was so very clear. And with Arthur currently being on the same side of the battle-drawn lines, he couldn’t help wanting to nurture that thirst in a way that would satisfy both their end games. ”It pleases me to hear that,” Arthur muttered, still not really drawing away from the proximity between them. ”I suspect that your desire for reprisal will be a long and drawn out affair, and as such, it can probably take on the form of multiple repercussions over a period of time.” And meeting like this would only be a whisper in a strong gust.

Arthur drew a touch closer, another teasing brush of his lip along the shell of Kiku’s ear. It lingered and he drew it lower, barely along the skin of his neck just below the ear before speaking once more. ”You know what would hurt him… It may not be much at first, but the smallest things and sometimes serve as surprisingly effective irritants…” His voice lowered, and the corners of his lips rose ever so slightly as he pulled away from his skin to glance up at him. ”Come to my bed.” Arthur had a feeling that Kiku knew very well that something so seemingly small and insignificant could cause an exasperating aftereffect that he could utilize. Kiku seemed like he wanted retribution, to cause pain in return for his, and Arthur was willing to give him an instrument for it. ”You may utilize it how you will... And with that, we may talk further.”