No matter how hard he tried, England could not, for the life of him, figure this place out.
Every room was identical to the last, had the same feel as the last. He wasn't sure if anyone else could feel it, and he certainly was not going to risk mockery by asking America, but he was sure that something felt wrong about this place.
Another room.
Everything was in it's place, nothing so much as a millimetre out of line.
Maybe it was the constant repetition of the place that was making England so uncomfortable. He didn't know. But he wanted to get out of this ridiculous place. Fast.
"Find anything?" America yelled, despite being less than two feet away from him.
England frowned. "Oh, for Christ's sake America! You have a bell on every tooth and a dozen on your tonsils, I swear!" he huffed.
America just laughed and continued to dig through the drawer he was assigned to. So far, all he had found in said drawer were a bunch of plain, white button-downs, all of which were far too big for anyone he'd ever met.
He sighed. "Dude, I wasn't going to say anything but," he looked over at England. "Does this place seem kind of... creepy to you?"
Closing the doors of the closet he was previously looking through, England returned his friend's glance. "Honestly, this place seems all sorts of creepy to me." he admitted.
America pushed the drawer closed, moving to sit on the bed. "No kidding." he breathed. "I keep getting the feeling that something bad is going to happen... and every now and then, I get this weird pain in my shoulders and elbows and... well, pretty much all the joints in my extremities." He tipped himself back, lying on the bed with his feet on the ground.
England let out a quiet sigh, walking out of the room. "Come on." he said. "We have more rooms to investigate."
Since they had parted from the others, Italy had remained silent. He hadn't even looked up from the floor, seemingly content to just watch his feet carry him down the hall.
His sudden taciturnity was starting to worry Germany.
Italy was usually carefree, bubbly and playful, the way he should be. Germany didn't like him being quiet, because that meant that there was something wrong.
"What's the matter, Italy?" he asked, casting a worried glance in his friend's general direction.
Italy stopped walking, still staring at the wooden floor of the hall. "Afraid." he whispered.
Well that much was obvious. The Italian was scared of his own shadow, why wouldn't this absurd situation frighten him?
"I..." Italy continued. "I just want to go home."
Germany sighed, placing his hand on Italy's shoulder. "We all do." he said.
Italy turned abruptly, wrapping his arms around Germany's waist and burying his face in his chest. "I'm really scared, Germany."
Returning the embrace, the German frowned. "Hey," He gently rubbed soothing circles over Italy's back. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Italy." he whispered.
The whole search had consisted of Russia largely ignoring his sister's talk of true love and marriage.
It was the same thing she said to him every time the were in the same room together. He'd heard it so many times that he could probably recite the entire thing. Backwards.
He just did his best to ignore her and look around, which was a difficult task when she was clinging to the edge of his scarf.
"Answer me!" she whined.
Russia looked up from the desk he'd been examining. "I'm sorry, Belarus. What did you say?" he asked.
Belarus glared. "I asked how you would feel about a Spring wedding." she repeated. She lifted herself to sit on the desk, knocking a small, hand-held mirror off the edge, effectively shattering it.
"Be careful!" Russia chided, ducking down to pick up some of the shards. Most were too small and sharp to pick up with his hands, so he left them, warning Belarus to watch her feet when she got down. Placing the broken shards atop a small, side table, he went back to rifling through the desk.
With a pout, Belarus realised the Russian wasn't going to answer her question. Giving a bored yawn, she reached over to the side table, picking up one of the shards, feeling no fear about cutting her fingers.
She just sat there for a while, admiring her reflection. "I'd look beautiful in a veil." she stated.
He doesn't want to see you in a veil.
He doesn't love you.
He wants you to be miserable.
You'd make such a beautiful bride.
But he doesn't care.
Belarus frowned.
The girl in the shard frowned too.
Who was this?
It couldn't be Belarus. Belarus' eyes always had a stunning shine to them. This girl's eyes were dull. Dark. The whites of her eyes looked almost... grey. And her skin was so pale. Deathly so. This girl looked ill.
"Big brother." she called out. "Do I look okay?"
"You're as beautiful as always, Belarus." replied Russia, monotonously.
"No, big brother. Look at me." Belarus reached out to grab onto Russia's scarf, but he moved before she could touch it. "I don't have time for your foolishness right now, сестра, I'm busy."
Belarus frowned, glancing back into the shard.
The girl's eyes were even darker now. And her lips looked dry and chapped.
The Belarusian brought a hand up and let her fingers slowly brush across her own lips. They weren't soft and plump as the usually were. They were chapped and even cracked in some places.
Panicking, Belarus brushed her fingers over her cheek. Her skin was cold to the touch and felt awfully dry and nowhere near as soft as usual.
"Russia," her voice was quiet, almost breaking. "I think there's something wrong."
"Not now, Belarus."
He doesn't care.
He's never cared.
You could be dying right now and he just does not care.
Belarus looked into the shard once more.
The whites of her eyes were completely black now. Her pupils had disappeared, leaving only the pretty purple of her irises.
Do it!
Do it, Belarus!
Belarus looked back towards her brother.
What are you waiting for?
He deserves it doesn't he?
After everything he's done to you, aren't you furious?
He deserves this and much, much worse, just do it!
Letting her eyes flicker between the shard and her brother, Belarus brought her legs up to rest under her, sitting like a frog. She cared not about the possible up-skirt or the way she was clutching the shard so tightly that it dug into her skin and left a deep slice across her palm.
Do it!
Do it!
Do it!
She waited until he was perfectly aligned.
Just one more tiny step to the left, come on!
Loosing patients, Belarus launched herself forward, grabbing hold tightly to her brother's shoulder and plunging the shard into his throat.
Russia doubled over, attempting an agonising cream, but only managing to gasp for air. He struggled to get the weight off his back, a weight soon revealed to be Belarus.
Belarus slid off her brother, harshly yanking out the shard, sideways, leaving a gaping hole in Russia's throat.
The Russian collapsed onto his knees, coughing and spluttering, spraying blood over the floor.
"I'm sorry, brother." Belarus' tone made it painfully obvious that she was not the least bit sorry. "This was your own fault." She smiled, flicking her hair behind her. "Maybe it would have ended differently, had you been better to me." She turned and walked away, pausing in the doorway. "Досвидания, большойбрат."
The last thing Russia saw was his sister's little feet leaving bloody footprints in her wake.
Russia has reached Platinum Tier.
The Game Master's announcement was heard all through the house, planting the same question in everyone's minds.
What is Platinum Tier?
"Germany," Italy's voice was low, barely audible and shaking. He didn't even look up from the floor. "I have a really bad feeling."
Germany tucked the Italian under his arm. "So do I." he replied.
Prussia ground his teeth, his fists clenching automatically. The Game Master had already pissed him off enough for one lifetime. Without thinking, he went to punch through another window.
He gave a strangled yelp when he felt the flesh on his arm rip open, like it had before.
"Prussia!" Canada turned back when he heard the Prussian cry out. He rushed to his side, gently lifting his sleeve. "You have to be more careful!" scolded the Canadian, tearing another makeshift bandage from his shirt.
Prussia frowned, biting his lip as he let Canada wrap his wound. "If you keep doing that you're going to have no shirt left." he said.
Canada sighed, continuing to wrap the torn off material around Prussia's arm. "Well," he huffed. "I'd rather not have a shirt than not have you."
"What are you talking about?" Prussia asked, using his free hand to brush the Canadian's fringe out of his eyes.
With another sigh, Canada finished what he was doing and pulled away from Prussia. "I just..." he put a hand to his forehead, the other resting on his hip. "I keep getting the feeling that... that something bad is going to happen to you."
Prussia's frown deepened. He grabbed hold of Canada's arm, pulling him into a hug. They stood in their embrace for a few minutes, until Prussia heard a quiet hiccup from the Canadian. He took his Birdie's chin in his hand and lifted his face.
A few stray tears rolled down Canada's cheeks. He pushed up his glasses and wiped them away, but Prussia had already seen them.
"What the matter, Vogel?" he asked.
Canada sniffed, biting his lip. "I..." He could barely speak for sobbing. "I d-don't want you to... to d-die." he wept, burying his face in Prussia's chest.
"Who said I was going to die?" asked Prussia, rubbing soothing circles on Canada's back. "Birdie? Who said I was going to die?"
"Hungary, stop!" France yelled.
Hungary spun around. "What? What's the matter?"
France leaned against the wall. "My chest is really starting to hurt." he complained, sliding down the wall.
With a frown, Hungary placed a hand on her own chest. "Yes, mine has been hurting for a little while." she sighed.
Judging by the pained look on France's face, the pain in his chest was a lot sharper than the pain that Hungary was feeling.
"Why don't you go on ahead, Hungary?" France gave her a smile. "I'll catch up with you when I'm feeling better."
Hungary opened her mouth to protest, but something stopped her. "Okay." She turned and started to walk on. "I'll be slow so you can catch up easily." she called back over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hallway.
Another quiet groan slipped from France's parted lips. He sat alone in silence for a while, waiting for the pain to subside.
In the distance, he heard a gentle tapping of little shoes on the tiled floor. Slowly, a voice faded in.
He couldn't make out what was being said, but the voice sounded desperate and frightened.
France kept his eyes in the direction of the voice, carefully climbing to his feet when he saw Belarus round the corner, clutching the wall with tears streaming down her face, chanting in rapid Belarusian. She had blood staining her dress and crusting in her hair.
"Belarus," France reached out for the shaking girl. "What happened to you?"
The Belarusian girl took a step back, avoiding France's touch. "...dead..." she whispered. "Big brother... is dead." She shook, her hands coming up to cover her face. "I... I killed big brother!"
France's eyes widened as he drew back his hands. "...Why, Belarus?"
"Because it told me to."
"What?"
Belarus looked up, revealing her altered eyes. "The voice." she replied. "The whispering voice, can't you hear it, France?" She shook her head, screaming as she collapsed to her knees, her heart pounding. "It hurts! The whispering won't stop and my chest is aching! It's hurts so much, France!"
Kneeling beside her, France pulling her into his lap, rubbing her back and trying to get her to calm down. Slowly, her panting breaths evened out and she stopped shaking. "It'll be okay, Belarus." France whispered.
Belarus didn't respond. She lay perfectly still.
"Belarus?" France brushed her hair out of her face. Her eyes were half-lidded and totally black. Her breathing had come to a complete stop. "Belarus!"
Belarus has lost the game.
End Note: Sorry it took so long to get this up, I'm working on God knows how many different things all at once.
Translations:
сестра – Sister (Russian)
До свидания, большой брат - Goodbye, big brother (Russian. I had Belarus speaking Russian for a reason.)
Vogel – Bird (German)
Sneak Peaks
"I'll make it quick."
"We're going to die, aren't we?"
"Italy, stop it!"
"We'll find him, Romano."
"Kill me, Spain! Please!"
Until next time,
~Lolly xXx