Swing of the Guillotine
"Death really did not matter to him but life did, and therefore the sensation he felt when they gave their decision was not a feeling of fear but of nostalgia."
- Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
It seemed like every day there was a new newspaper article about the unrest in France, in The Motherland. (Although I, personally, sometimes called papa the Fatherland when the humans around me were discussing France and its current state because well, he did raise me for a bit. Even if as Nations we don't really have family and just adopt titles like brother or father as a way to relate to the humans we are modelled after and look after…)
And it was due to that past that I felt responsible for at least going and checking up on him. Especially when I saw that the newspapers were reporting more and more and more unrest…until it all erupted into bloodshed spilled over unhappiness.
I'm talking about the death of France's ruling family and the unrest afterwards, of course.
I had, of course, hurried onto the first boat to go and see him when I'd first felt the stirrings of trouble in my gut, and so I'd read that newspaper as one of the first things I'd done once I'd landed in France and despite worrying about if I was already too late or not…I had still used my Nation powers immediately to find the feel of another Nation close by, knowing it must be Papa, and had hurried towards that feeling.
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