December 25, 2014

Arya's POV:

Well that didn't sound good.

The original nations all edged closer together, and Romania began flipping through the pages in earnest as the others shielded the two of us with their bodies.

Prussia suddenly handed me his phone. "Call Norway, we're leaving now." he whispered urgently, and I flicked down the contact lists to find the Nordic country, then quickly began typing as Oliver, as it was easiest to call him, tilted his head to the side, still awaiting my answer.

We're ready to be use the spell or whatever, get us out of here Norway!

I sent the text, then looked up and edged around Russia to see my target, much as I disliked the sight of him. "Why don't you already know?" I asked. "Didn't the other Germany and Luciano tell you already?"

It was a valid question. I knew that the 2p!s knew what their originals did, at least when they took over, and both 2p!Italy and Germany's originals had known my name.

Oliver looked surprised. "Why, of course poppet! But it's what one does, when one introduces themselves, they say their name."

I eyed him suspiciously, and was about to answer when Romania stomped sideways on my foot. "Don't tell him. Names in the hands of a sorcerer have power, especially when they know how the original person pronounces it!" he hissed in my ear, and I swallowed and looked at Oliver. There was a suspicious, hungry glitter in his eyes that I didn't like at all.

"You already know my name, so I don't see why I should tell you again. I don't like being repetitive." I said firmly, and was rewarded by the faintest of decreases in his painted-on grin, which I took to mean was Oliver's version of a scowl.

So he was up to something.

He replaced the tiny lapse in facial merriment with his usual wide grin, but suddenly everyone linked hands, including Prussia and Romania. I stifled a yelp as they tugged on my sore muscles.

"Again, that's really lovely, but we are leaving, now." Germany said firmly, and Romania opened his mouth to begin chanting.

"Meramera to, moyaki tsukuse sumi kara sumi, made sono gouka de atokata mo nokoranu you ni, tamashii made mo yaki tsukuse."

Oliver's face abruptly twisted with rage –most disturbing of all, without losing his smile.

"DON'T YOU DARE!" he screeched, but the ground underneath us was already glowing, and I felt a familiar lurching sensation as the world melted away. The last thing I saw was Oliver's furious blue eyes and the rusty world spinning into an eternity of black.

3rd Person POV:

"Gosh darn fiddlesticks sugar muffins!" Oliver was nearly in tears of frustration. All his hard work for nothing! The girl had gotten away, the sigils were still unfixed, and worse still, Matt was nearly blistering his ears with the Canadian's swearing. He wanted to bake. Baking meant sense to him. He wanted to bake a great big batch of arsenic cupcakes and feed them to everyone he saw. It took all of his enormous self control not to tear at his strawberry blond hair as he settled for agitated pacing.

"Allen!" he shrilled, turning to the sprawled figure of the red-eyed American. He approached the body and gently kicked at it, outraged tears in his eyes. "Wake up now! Wake up! That naughty poppet got away! WAKE UP!"

Allen's head lolled lifelessly, and then his crimson eyes squeezed shut as he grunted. "Fuck you, Oliver." the boy growled, weakly rolling away from the British man's foot. He scooped up his dark glasses and awkwardly sat up, rubbing the bump on the back of his head. Brain injuries tended to make one uncoordinated for a brief time even after healing. "Bloody fucks got the jump on us."

Oliver was practically hopping up and down in rage. "I gosh darn well know they did, because they got away! All of them! Every single last one!" he wailed, turning and lashing out at a pile of rubble. "Month after month of work ruined by one vexing little poppet!" he hissed, in tears as he continued to kick at the rubble.

He needed her Given Name. He needed it, it was imperative to his entire plan to neutralize her threat before she went too far. He needed her dead and out of the way in the same fashion he needed to eat, needed to sleep. And how, how, HOW had she known about him, about them?! He had been so excruciatingly careful! It had taken years to eliminate all rumors, mythos, and records of them in the world of their originals, and this one little girl knew seemingly everything! Had someone told her!? No, no one could've possibly told her! She hadn't seen or met any of them before she and that former nation, Prussia, had shown up at Kuro's house!

He realized his toe was beginning to hurt and stopped kicking the rubble, biting his lip. Allen and Matt saw this and edged away nervously, but he barely registered them. Oliver only bit his lip when he was trying to come up with his very worst, most depraved, most heinous ideas. It was a nervous tic he hadn't yet bothered to eliminate, and it never failed to terrify his coworkers –largely because when they had been on the receiving end of such plots, it tended to scar them for life.

In some ways less metaphorical than others.

She couldn't possibly have been told by one of us, because none of us have ever met her before. And no one from that world can remember us, either. I made sure of that…could it be true? Could she have really read it in some book, some tome I missed? I was so sure I had gotten all of them…

He let go of his lip and sighed. There was no way to know, except to ask her outright. With a knife. And some poison cupcakes. He already had some lovely ones in mind, a nice brown and gold swirl on top of white frosting, with arsenic. Lots and lots of arsenic, and maybe some cyanide…

Oliver's eyes glazed briefly as he smiled. He didn't think that, being as she knew so much about the others, she would be fooled by his delicious poisoned delicacies, but one never knew. He could bake some later and hope for the best, but for now, it was time to regroup and let his temper loose. Hopefully one before the other.

When Oliver lost his temper, things got…messy.

Arya's POV:

The world realigned itself with a watery roar, and the glow cut out as I blinked at a deadpan, blonde young man with dull indigo eyes.

"Hallo. I am Norway. I suppose you are the human they went to get." he said flatly as he closed his book, blinking slowly at me.

I blinked back. "Uh, yeah, that's me."

He nodded. "Okay."

While this fascinating conversation was going on, I sensed the nations at my back moving amongst themselves, until finally someone's hand clamped down on my shoulder with an iron grip.

Russia leaned over his hand, smiling at me in an intimidating fashion. "Privet, I am Russia. You are very small to be causing such a fuss, da?" he asked me, and I looked at the two of us, comparing. I came up to his shoulder…

"I'm not that small. Nice to meet you, though." I said, turning slightly so we weren't conversing over my shoulder.

Russia smiled, his hand ruffling my hair in a friendly fashion. Only he was so strong it felt like he was trying to crush my skull.

"You are not like America says his citizens are. I like you." he said cheerfully, closing his eyes. I smiled uncertainly, not sure if this was a bad or a good thing.

"Ehehe…sure thing man."

Japan scooted around the towering arctic nation. "Konichiwa, I am Japan. But we have met before, haven't we?" he asked, blinking his deep brown eyes slowly.

I nodded and shook his hand with a friendly smile. "This is our first proper introduction, I guess. I'm Arya. Aryana Thompson."

He smiled slightly at me. "It is a preasure to meet you."

I frowned worriedly as China stepped up, but then I realized the only sign of damage was his bloody sleeve, and he was completely healed from the butcher knife. Russia's scratches were gone as well, and Japan wasn't limping any more.

Knock knock Arya, remember what Romano said? Countries heal nearly instantly after they're hurt.

My musings were suddenly interrupted by China's fierce hug. "Nín hǎo little one, I am China, as you know! It's nice to see that you're alright!" he said into my shoulder, and I grunted and nodded, resigning myself to the sudden lack of air.

Germany pried the two of us apart. "Now zat we know who is who, perhaps we should focus on the doubles, ja?" he reminded us irritably, and I sighed and nodded.

"So, about 2p!England…"

Merry Christmas!