Alana walked slowly but purposefully down the main street, heading towards her home wearing a green dress, black leggings and brown boots. It was dusk; the dying sun's light made her golden hair glow. She was calm, not fearing anything but Northern Ireland never let down her guard. She was the one who taught Canada how to be invisible, she taught Hong Kong how to be as quiet as she was and she thought England everything he needed to know: nothing more and nothing less. Their skills where honed to perfection all thanks to Northern Ireland.
Alana stopped and stared, tilting her head curiously towards the entrance of a side street she could have sworn she had seen something. Curiosity was Alana's biggest flaw so of course she had to go and look. She walked towards a small golden locket resting melancholically on the floor. "oh my what are ye doin 'ere" she mused to herself then chuckled; talking to yourself was the first sign of madness after all but then again, normal rules never applied in the British isles in the first place.
She picked it up and dropped it on seeing the inscription. She slowly scooped it back up, tears running freely down her perfect white skinned cheeks.
The Angel of Death: Jack The Ripper
Alana didn't register the fact she had been shot until the blood began to drip and she collapsed onto the concrete beneath her.
Elsewhere….
Portugal whistled too himself as he wandered the (rather cold) streets of Ireland carelessly. He was thinking about his adorable friend coelho adorável-England wondering briefly why his tanned skin looked so perfect next to Arthur's pearly white but that's beside the point, he almost had a panic attack when he heard the gun shots.
He of course, knew immediately North was in trouble, thanks to him and England sharing an incredibly strong bond that could only be created by allying with a magical nation (they had the longest alliance in the world and he loved to boast about it to his brother Spain, needless to say Antonio became green with envy.)
So felt it even though it was to a much lesser extent and it burnt. He knew he had to do something at least for Arthurs sake; if not Alana's so he tracked her found her and his eyes widened in horror at the sight of the blood pooling beneath her. "Alana! Que diabos aconteceu!" the brunette yelped rushing to the petite nations side.
"I've been shot João" she snapped their green eyes clashing briefly; hers an emerald green almost as enchanting as her brothers but lacking the fire Arthurs held and Portugal's chartreuse, usually dreamy and unfocused but when it came to the UK you could always guarantee his attention. "By whom" he said his voice shaking with untold fury.
"Jacky boy- he's always been one hell of a good shot sometimes I think I taught him too well," hissed Alana sinking slowly onto the pavement and leaning against the crumbling brick wall of the dark alleyway. "Alana who WAS that!" asked terrified and furious at the same time. "Get Arthur" she mumbled trying to put pressure on the wound.
João pulled out his iphone and speedialed England who was of course at the top of the list. " Arthur suas irmãs sido baleado e eu não sei o que fazer!" he said frantically holding the phone as if it were a lifeline
"Holy shit João what happened?" "Put him on speaker" advised Ireland. Portugal pressed the button and put down the phone then moved to Alana's side. "It was Jack the Ripper Artie! D'fhág sé an locket, mothers locket."
"João I need you to get her home safely, she lives nearby just follow her directions and be careful love you both I'm on my way!" Portugal's heart skipped a beat when he heard Arthur say he loved him. Loved him. "Wake up porchie and help me get home." Said Alana firmly pulling him from his daydream "of course meu trevo" he replied helping the blonde to her feet and thaking God that a) she was tiny and light just like her brother and b) she lived literally around the corner.