Welcome to chapter two!
The first thing that I noticed was that my head kind of hurt. My bottom lip was burning a bit. I took several minutes to wonder just what happened. The chirping of birds and the familiar warmth that was sunlight that was caressing my cheek told me that it was morning. However I was drawing a complete blank as to what happened when I came home. I remember feeling uneasy and then some relief when I came back to London. The capital that I had always loved more than anything. Even during the pirating days I had always felt a longing to return to London whenever I left. London was and always would be my home. London held my heart. I knew every street, every building like the back of my hand. If a trashcan so much as moved an inch I'd notice… However… Something was amiss. I braced myself and opened my eyes. However the increasing in the pain I felt on the back of my head I had been expecting only happened when I pushed myself up.
"Ow…"
I buried my hand in the mess of blonde locks as I felt out the painful bump. I winced a little before dropping my hand. I gave the area around me a once over. Nothing seemed out of place. My gaze faltered a little at the window. I stared at the water droplets that had settled outside in various locations.
The scream of jets and the thundering of bombs. People screaming in horror. People running for bomb shelters as the bombs whistled happily on the way down towards them. Soldiers waiting for the initial bombing to stop before they charged in, weapons ready. The screams of suffering people and pain. It was all a disorganized mess. With children screaming for their parents and parents searching frantically for the children that they had lost in the chaos. Blood and chaos. The coppery tinted smell of blood filled the air. My stomach twisted into a knot at the scent… Pain danced between physical and emotional… A scent I could not place played along the edges of my senses.
I blinked the scene away as I looked away from the window. I sniffed when the scent didn't fade. It smelled like… pancakes? Who could possibly be here? Who would Want to be here? I mean I was England. No one liked me. I was the black sheep. I was the one everyone loved to make fun of and got a kick out of making fun of me. Everyone wanted to get away from big bad England so who would be here and cooking none the less? I cautiously slipped out of bed like that movement alone would set off some alarm. I shivered a bit at the slight chill that waited outside the blankets. I then proceeded to follow the scent.
I was prepared for anything. That was what I told myself. I was ready for anything and everything. Everything except what was going on in my kitchen. I stalled in the doorway. France was in my kitchen. Cooking. I wanted to demand what exactly he was doing here. Demand that he get out. But for some reason my brain just couldn't get the message to my mouth. So I just stood there with a perplexed expression on my face.
"Well good morning. I hope you're hungry. I made crepes."
I stared at his beaming face for a moment before I found my voice.
"... What… what are you doing here?"
The last I remembered we had stormed off in two different directions. So this made no sense at all. Was there a holiday that I wasn't aware of?
"Well I'm making breakfast. What's it look like? Now come. Sit."
I approached slowly and sat in the chair he had pulled out. Cheery as usual… Thought he'd be screaming at me if anything…
"I… can see that… But why? Aren't you going to yell at me… or something?"
"Of course not. Why would I do that?"
Considering that I trash talked his entire culture I'd say that was a good enough reason… I looked over the contents of the plate in front of me. My first thought was poison, but he wouldn't use french food for such an act. Something about cultural pride and dishonoring the food or something like that. Then again maybe the last fight we had was enough of a reason to bend his beliefs a bit.
"Are you going to eat it or just stare at it?"
I looked up as he tore me from my thoughts. I glanced down again. My stomach was still a little upset from the smell of blood earlier.
"I'm not very hungry. I think-"
"Nonsense! One does not just turn down french food! Especially breakfast! Hasn't anyone told you it's the most important meal of the day?!"
I groaned and massaged the bridge of my nose as he went on and on. Something was wrong with him. I swear it. I rubbed the back of my head. All this yelling was making my headache worse.
"You might not want to do that. You hit your head at some point."
I looked up.
"Don't look at me. You did that before I got here." He crossed his arms defiantly.
"... When… exactly did you say you got here?"
"Are you saying you don't remember last night?"
He seemed curious now and I started to feel uncomfortable again rather than confused. What exactly happened last night?
"... Why? Did something happen?"
"Does the word thunderstorm ring any bells?"
The rain. The thunder. Blood. Pain. Screaming. Isolation.
"Hey."
I blinked a few times. "... There was a thunderstorm last night."
"Yes. Do you remember anything else?"
I took another few seconds. Just what was he hinting at? Wait… He was here last night. There was a thunderstorm… He… I froze. He saw. He knew. I could feel a slight heat on my cheeks.
"Did you… Did you see?"
"Considering I spent half the night trying to coax you out of your illusions, Angleterre, yes."
"O-oh… Um… Well I… um… You didn't…. I'm going to stop talking." I looked away.
I nearly jumped when he embraced me. I tried shifting out of it.
"You're lonely, aren't you?"
"Wh- what? No. I've been alone for centuries. I'm fine."
"You know if you were in so much pain we could have helped."
"I don't Want your help."
"Maybe. But you need it."
"Do not." I replied stubbornly. "I don't need anyone and I most certainly don't need you. We're enemies. We have been enemies for centuries and enemies don't help each other."
"But we don't need to be. Sure it would be a large jump to friends so why don't we start off with being neutral?"
He finally let go. He gave me one of his smiles and started out.
"I'll let you think on it."
I sat in silence as I just traced his progress to the front door by sound.
"Try and eat something! Don't let my wonderful cooking go to waste!" He called before closing the door behind him.
I dropped my head into my hands. What now?
Oh he is on foreign ground here. Haha. He knows no compassion when it comes to friendship.
Ok people. I need assistance. Tell me. Who would all of you think as a kind of aggressive person or lover, maybe possessive? who would start with distance attempts at love/wooing at first such as sending flowers or notes or kind acts, but wouldn't be afraid to just go out and take them if they believed necessary. Do Not say France.
If you wish for a continuation of this story you Will Help Me. You will help me. You will help me. You are under my control. You will help me. Look at the pocket watch... no visualize the pocket watch I may or may not be swinging. Obey. Help me. Heeelllp meeeee.
