Guess who's baaaaaaaaack?!
here's the new chapter!
O_O
4000... we reached 4000 motherf***ing views?! *dances around the room*
and 77 reviews! yaaay! *dances even more*
i LOVE you all! (i'll soon reply as soon as i can to the last reviews, sorry for the delay ;_; but i'm pretty busy at the moment!)
anywayyyy! i hope you'll like this chapter!
...
ENJOOOOOY
After all the commotion, Arthur found his hands full.
First he had to patch Romano and Ludwig (and himself too) up. Luckily no one had been infected by the Nightmares, and all the injuries had been caused by falls or stones. After that, he had to check Alfred too. He also made sure Feliciano was settled in his room, with someone constantly keeping an eye on him.
When he was done with the American (who hadn't stopped blabbering for one second) he sat on his chair sighing. He was exhausted. Then he heard a soft voice "May I?"
Arthur sighed. "Come on in, frog."
The Frenchman came inside his medical room, uncertain. He glanced around, and whistled. "Wow. You upgraded."
The Brit smiled a little and stood up. "Maybe." He moved a hand towards the table. "Just sit there, ok?"
Francis nodded, and sat down, shifting, a little uncomfortable. "Everyone is so nice here. I already met everyone, they all seem so friendly..."
"Hm."
And silence fell.
They wereboth uncomfortable. They both had many things to say, to explain... Francis however was really worried. How could he explain all those things? He didn't know himself why he had done the half of them.
Minutes passed in silence, neither of them wanting to begin. Arthur started checking his back. The wings had torn and ripped open the shirt he had been wearing, but there was further no evidence of the event. As if it had never even happened. The Frenchman's back was smooth, except the burn marks. But those were his spell's fault.
He took a small pot of lotion for burns. He could choose between three in his stock, and chose the one he knew stung the most.
Francis hissed as the cream was smeared on the burns. "Merde...!"
Arthur chuckled. "It stings, doesn't it?"
"I bet you did that on purpose."
The Brit smiled. "Maybe."
Silence fell again, but Francis broke it abruptly when Arthur started examining his shoulders. He grabbed the Brit's hand, and looked him deep in the eyes. "Arthur, there are no words that can express how sorry I am."
Arthur stopped, narrowing his eyes. "You'd better find them. I'd like to hear some explanations." He freed his hand from the Frenchman's grasp, and continued with the cream.
Francis sighed. "I...I don't know, Arthur... I really don't-"
"Don't you 'I don't know' me!" Arthur exclaimed, stepping back. His gaze hardened. "The hell, Francis?! You make that wretched deal, and after more than a year, you try to kill me and all you have to say is 'I don't know'?! You'd better give me ahell of an explanation!"
Francis' eyes widened, his gaze falling on the faint bluish strangling marks on the Brit's neck. "What should I tell you?! Half of the time I wasn't even conscious...! I..." he buried his face in his hands.
Arthur's gaze softened. He sat beside his friend and put a hand on his back. "Just...tell me what happened. Ok?"
The Frenchman nodded, lifting his head again. He took a deep breath.
"Well..." he paused, uncertain. "...You remember when the Nightmares attacked the city we were in, more than a year ago?"
Arthur nodded. "I do remember. They attacked us from all sides, and they made every building crumble. We barely managed to survive the chaos."
"Oui.Well, when we were running away, I saw this thing through the plumes of smoke. You didn't see it, probably, and you ran ahead, thinking I was still following you. But that thing..." Francis shuddered. "It was a Sentient Nightmare. And it looked at...no, it lookedin me. I was like under a spell. It was messing with my thoughts. I couldn't think straight anymore. His eyes were...hypnotizing, to say the least. And he kept talking to me. He...showed me things. I do not know how, but images flashed in my mind...the city we were in, completely destroyed and crawling with Nightmares. People dying, getting eaten or infected by them. And then me and you, dying by the Sentient Nightmare's horrible hands. He offered me to join him, and in exchange he would spare your life." Francis paused again, looking sideways to the Brit. Seeing he wasn't going to talk, he continued.
"As I said, I couldn't think straight. The thing was somehow messing with my mind, my thoughts... twisting them, bending them. I... I accepted his offer, as you know. I saw you, for an instant. You were watching, and I saw the horror in your eyes. In that moment I instantly regretted my choice, but it was too late. The Nightmare hit me in the chest and well... you know what happened."
The Brit gulped. He remembered it all too well. The Frenchman accepting the Nightmare's outstretched hand, and getting hit square in the chest by the other one. The sound of ripping cloth, cracking bone... The sickening rip of flesh as from Francis' back sprouted wings... And his scream, becoming distorted. But what was actually new to him was the fact of the Sentient Nightmare confusing his victim's thoughts. He immediately felt less angry at the Frenchman.
"What happened then...?" Arthur asked.
Francis closed his eyes. "Well, you ran for it. That I remember well. But after that, I joined the Nightmare's...'company'. I was the second RED the Nightmare had created, but after that two others joined. We were the Nightmare's...how could you call it? We were his minions, but to us he could talk, we were his... 'friends'. It's almost as if all what he desired for was having someone to talk to. And besides that, we did his dirty work. He's never got out of his hiding place for one year, as you know, like the other Sentient Nightmares. Us four REDs were the ones he sent when he needed something checked or done."
The Frenchman opened his eyes again. How could he describe how he had felt that whole year? "I do not know how to describe the feeling... It was...I felt wonderful. I felt so powerful, and I could fly... I felt like the whole world was at my fingertips... But that deal sealed most of my memories away. I didn't remember anything of my past life, except my name, and some names of places or faces. I remembered your face, for example," he paused, smiling bitter sweetly, "...well, how could I forget those enormous eyebrows of yours...!"
Arthur smiled a half-hearted smile, not really amused, ad poked Francis weakly in the side. "Don't get distracted, frog. Continue."
"Well, anyway, I did not remember your name. I remembered it by pure chance, yesterday. I knew we were friends once, but... I somehow didn't care anymore. I just saw you all as... humans. Weak, pathetic humans. You all deserved to die... to be eaten by Nightmares, and killed by me. That's what I was thinking. But...it wasn't really me! I just... I don't know how to explain. It was as if the real me, with all my memories, was underwater for all this time. And I did some...horrible things." Francis shuddered. "I...I killed so many people...with my bare hands... and I enjoyed it." he stared horrified at his hands. "...I can still hear their screams."
Arthur hugged the Frenchman with one arm, not really knowing what to say. Whatcould he say, anyway?! "Don't...don't think about it. It's in the past. And...you said it yourself, right? It wasn't really you."
Francis nodded, but wasn't really convinced. When the Brit tried to talk again, he stopped him. "Don't, Arthur. Just don't. I don't want to hear any of it."
The Brit closed his mouth, understanding. Francis took a deep breath. He needed to tell him everything. He didn't want to think about what he had done. He tried concentrating on other things. "The..." he gulped. "...the other REDs were tricked in similar ways, for all I know. We were four. Me, Lukas, Gilbert and Antonio. We were all pretty similar. I mean, in thoughts and all. Not remembering much, not giving a damn about it, and so on. Gilbert kept boasting about his abilities and about how awesome he was. Lukas kept shifting from moments of intense activity to ones of deep slumber. Only Antonio was different."
Arthur listened carefully. He knew about Lukas and Gilbert, but not about this Antonio.
"He... I think he was probably tricked like we all were, but Antonio had something more. He was chosen by the Nightmare because of his...how do you call it? Avaritia, or Greed. The side effect of it was that not only he got greedier, desiring more and more money, gold, and..." He shuddered, "...human flesh, but...he managed to maintain all of his memories intact. We, the other REDs, considered this a weakness. And to him, it really was. He was always in conflict with himself, not accepting his 'new' nature, because of the memories of his old one. His moods were continuously swinging, going from rage to self -pity."
Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh."
"Usually he would get angry really quick, and set on fire the nearest thing to him. You did not want to be that nearest thing to him in those moments."
"But..." Arthur asked, "...why did he...why didyou obey the Sentient Nightmare's orders? Couldn't you just resist, or escape?"
Francis laughed a humourless laugh. "We couldn't. We had to obey his every order. Like I said, he was able to confuse our minds before, and he managed to twist our thoughts so we would obey him without resisting or even questioning anything. Again, only Antonio seemed capable of staying lucid enough to growl and glare at him. But even so, he had to obey. We mocked him for that, but now it dawns on me... he was the only smart one there."
Arthur frowned. "'There'? And where exactly is that?"
Francis shook his head. "It's to the east from here, in an abandoned building, but I do not remember exactly. I'm sorry." He looked at the Brit again. "I'm so, so sorry Arthur. You have no idea." A tear rolled down his cheek again, while he looked at the painful bluish reminder of him strangling his friend.
"Don't worry. It's okay now." Arthur smiled, and hugged the Frenchman.
"Ouch."
"Whoops. Sorry about that." The Brit had forgotten about the burns.
"No problem. Just...patch me up a little, okay?"
"Sure."
"Oh, and would you mind telling me how exactly I was cured? I am still pretty astounded of that. And that boy..."
As the Brit resumed healing Francis while explaining, outside the medical room stood a man, leaning against the wall.
He was crying silently, covering his mouth. "Antonio..." he sobbed, "...cretino." He then walked away abruptly, a curl bouncing up and down with every step.
Francis, meanwhile, had been told the whole story. He rubbed his chin. "Now I understand why he was so interested in him..."
"Excuse me, whowas interested inwhat?" Arthur said, treating Francis' chest (there was a small bruise where Feliciano had punched him).
The Frenchman suddenly looked like he had remembered something. "I didn't tell you! Oh, poo. Well, the Sentient Nightmare sent us REDs to search for somebody. He gave us a not-so-detailed description of him, but we had to kill him. Mas... " Francis bit on his own tongue before he could say 'Master'. "... the Nightmare kept rambling about a mistake, but did not say why it was a mistake or why we had to kill that man. Now however, I have an idea why. Feliciano is his name, you said?"
The Brit nodded. "Yes, and I suppose the Sentient wanted to kill him because he knew that he could cure Nightmares. And, now we know, REDs too."
"Oui, I think that too."
They continued talking, but eventually Arthur was done with the patching up. They wished each other goodnight, and went to bed. Well, Arthur slept on one of the many couches of the dining caves, with Mathias (the Dane was sleeping while hugging his axe, the reason unknown). Too many people were starting to live in there, they didn't have enough mattresses for everybody. They needed to write it on the wish list for when they would get out in the city again.
Ludwig was sitting on the mattress near the feverish Feliciano.
The small Italian wasn't giving any sign of improvement, so they had been given shifts to attend to. He had offered to stay up for that night. He didn't know why, but he was kind of strarting to feel protective over Feliciano. He just seemed so... innocent,in such a cruel world.
He sighed and replaced the cloth on the Italian's forehead. Feliciano's eyes twitched, but there was no other movement. He closed his eyes. He really hoped this...RED infection wouldn't kill him.
Suddenly the Italian started choking. His hands moved weakly towards his throat.
Ludwig was immediately alert. He was having respiratory problems again...!
He opened the first buttons of Feliciano's shirt, and blocked his hands so he wouldn't do anything to himself. The Italian tried to free himself, but was too weak to do that. He coughed some times, and then stilled again, relaxing and breathing normally.
The German sighed. It was going to be a long night.
He was still way too hot. His whole body was on fire.
For a while, he just stayed like that. Burning.
But then he started struggling for air. Something was closing his throat. He heard a cackle somewhere, as a black hand materialized around his throat.
No... No! He couldn't breathe...!
He panicked, and tried to pry the hand from his throat. But he couldn't move his hands...! They were being held down...!
The cackle became an evil laugh.
No... He was going to die...!
No... His right hand burned hotter (if that was even possible) and the black hand suddenly released his neck, letting him breathe again.
He relaxed, letting his lungs do their job. But he was still on fire.
It was like this for hours. And he couldn't do anything but... burn.
Eventually, after what felt like a century, his fingertips didn't feel so hot anymore.
Finally, some relief, maybe?
... Meanwhile, in a crumbled building...
A silhouette was sitting on the top of a building, crouched in an animal-like pose.
The being sighed, and looked down at his hands. If you could call those hands. In front of him there was a small puddle of water, and the being stared at his own reflection.
He shuddered, horrified. He was... hideous.
Then he growled, anger quickly building up inside him and hands shaking with rage. The being snarled as he punched the puddle, and the concrete roof of the building cracked. The crack let the water seep away, and in moments his reflection was gone.
Again the being sighed, his anger gone, and grabbed his own head while diggind with his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes firmly, and shook his head, muttering something.
His mental torment went on until a shout shook him out of his thoughts.
"Hey, Antonio! Get your lazy ass over here, we're going!" another being shouted, not so far away, waving at the first. He stood out from the grey asphalt and concrete because of the white covering his body.
The first being, Antonio, straightened up, and neared the white being.
"Let's go, okay? Lukas is already ahead of us."he paused. "Hey, are you okay?"
Antonio glared, and hissed a single word. "...Hungry..."
The white being smiled, understanding. "Don't worry, we'll have dinner soon enough! Now, let's go."
The two beings left, joining a third that was somewhere ahead.
The third being, with dull eyes, sighed as the other approached him. "There are four main cities in the western area..."
The white being folded his arms. "So?"
"We'll have to split... Each of us searches one city, and then we meet up in the fourth, the farthest one from here... Let's see if we can find this 'mistake' Master talks about... And maybe avenge Francis too..."The third being said, a bored tone in his voice.
"Okay!Lass uns gehen!"The white one said. He turned to Antonio. "Will you be alright?"
Antonio hissed. "I'll befine."
The white one laughed. "Of course. Seeya in the fourth city!"
"Hm... We'll meet there in two days, ok?"
Then they split, each one going into a different direction.
He was feeling less hot. His body was slowly cooling down... finally!
Aaah, what a relief.
The molten lead he had istead of blood cooled down, and the warmth left his body.
Only his heart and his hand were still hot, but not burning anymore.
After what felt like hours, even his heart stopped being so warm.
Then, finally, his hand cooled down too.
...
Could he finally move, too?
He was starting to see some light in the darkness.
Ugh, the light was now blinding him.
And...
...was that an angel?
He had blond hair and azure eyes, and had gigantic wings...
...wait.
Wait wait wait.
Was that Ludwig?!
Ludwig heard Feliciano stir in the morning. He suddenly had all his attention: the Italian hadn't moved all night.
He was pretty surprised when the boy actually opened his eyes. "...L...Ludwig?"
"Ja. You're awake!" The German smiled, relieved. He had thought that maybe Feliciano wouldn't survive it all...! But he was alive!
Feliciano coughed as he tried to sit up, and failed. His face was a deep shade of red, for some reason. Maybe he still had some fever? He had become very weak, Ludwig noticed. The elimination of the infection must have sapped all of his strength. He helped the Italian to sit up, and patted him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the world of the living."
Feliciano chuckled weakly. "Yeah..."
A shout was overheard through all the caves. "GUYS! FELICIANO'S ALIVE, AWAKE AND WELL!"
They both blinked, astonished.
"Was that...Mathias...?" Feliciano asked innocently.
Ludwig facepalmed. "How did he even...? Ah, Gott,nevermind. I should stop asking myself that..."
Romano slapped Mathias on the back of the head. "Stop being so loud, you moron. And is it true? Feliciano's actually awake?"
"Ja!He's weak, but he's alive!" The Dane responded.
"Tch. Weak. Give him some pasta and he'll be alright." The Italian snorted.
Tino raised an eyebrow. "Pasta...?"
Romano huffed. "Of course, pasta! The thing Feliciano always rants about!"
Mathias and Tino looked at each other. "He never mentioned pasta..."
Romano's eyes went wide. "You're shitting me, right?"
The Fin shrugged. "No. Really."
The Italian grabbed Tino's collar. "Get me some fucking pasta, and we'll cook it. He's Italian, give an Italian some pasta and he'll be as good as new. And we're talking about Feliciano. He used to nag me all day because he was so hungry for pasta..."
"You sure? I think that's just a myth..." Mathias raised an eyebrow. The Dane soon enough fled out of the cave, followed by a string of Italian insults.
Romano panted when he was done. He took a deep breath, and glared at the Fin. "Now let's get that motherfucking pasta."
...Meanwhile, in the city...
The figure slowly turned his head to scan his surroundings.
Boring, always so boring. Couldn't buildings fall in a more... he didnt' know, organized way? It was all so messy. And all cities looked the same to him like this.
Not that he really cared.
The sun was hurting his eyes, but he ignored it. He needed to get the job done.
He searched the boring city.
Boring, boring, boring... He yawned. He felt the Nightmares sleeping under the rocks, but he found nothing else. No humans, no Francis, no mistake... nothing.
He kicked a stone.
It was all so pointless...
The being suddenly felt a tingle in his spine. He narrowed his eyes. That was a familiar feeling... a feeling that suddenly sparked some interest in him. He needed to know more.
He walked around a bit, and when he jumped on a rock, he got that tingle again.
"Magic..."the RED whispered, crouching to touch the stone with his fingertips. Someone had used magic there. And not that much time ago. It was still fresh in the air.
The being closed his eyes. Yes, it definitely was magic. Fire magic...? Yes. Fire.
He straightened up. "...This could be interesting."he said, as he started following the trail of the magic user, eventually heading to a desert.
Holy sheeeeep this was hard to write! I do not know the reason though...
But I think next chapters will be easier... and after that... MWAHAHAHAAHAAH *choke* argh!
gh
anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter...!
I'll upload this friday! :D
Merde : (french) shit
...cretino : (italian) ...idiot
Lass uns gehen! :(german) let's go!
Gott... : (german) God...