'I can't believe they cancelled the meeting as I'm waiting for my connecting flight from Heatrow!' Ireland cursed internally, throwing himself down onto one of the metal benches outside the front entrance of the airport. What a wasted journey! Or...perhaps not. Cathal fished for his mobile phone and searched for Cian's number, however when he tried to phone the nation the line went straight to voicemail. Sighing, the country resorted to sending a text message instead.
'Hey Norn, meeting got cancelled at the last minute- by email no less! Fancy a drop in visit? We could get coffee together if you'd like?'. Pressing send, the Auburn haired man leant back into the ice-cold framework of the bench, staring up at the clouds.
The notification sound on Cian's phone caused the nation to jump, resulting in him banging his head on the dining room table, which he laid under with a magnifying glass to search for Arthur. He thought he'd put his phone on silent after Cathal had tried to call, so he'd very much been caught off-guard. Fumbling with the passcode, Cian briefly examined the text Cathal had sent. Instantly, Cian's heart leapt up into his throat. Cathal would be available to aid in the search after all!
"Al, Med! Cathal just text me, his trip got cancelled last minute so he's asking me if we want to go for coffee. He's local and can help, right? Should I invite him over?"
Alistair lifted his head from where he'd been searching underneath the various pots, pans and plates in the kitchen cupboards. The Scotsman's eyes were still glowing from the spell, yet, Cian could see that the strain of the spell was taking it's toll on his eyes. All of a sudden, Alistair's eyes resumed their normal appearance and the nation swayed unsteadily on his feet.
"Ugh...My head...A-Aye is he now? Go on and invite him over, we need all the help we can get to fix your mess" Cian flinched at the harshness of Alistair's cutting statement, while Alistair leant against the kicthen counter for support, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut tightly.
"Aye are- are you ok?" Cian reached a hand out to his elder brother, concern etched over his face.
"I'll be grand, go let Medwyn know what's going on" Alistair waved away Cian dismissively, massaging his temples with his brow furrowed. Solemnly, Northern Ireland made his way down to the basement while typing a reply to Ireland. Before he pressed send, Cian wanted to run the idea past Medwyn and so with a deep breath, he poked his head around the door of the basement where he could catch a short glimpse of the Welshman dashing around erratically.
"Eh, Med? Ireland text, his business trip got cancelled and he was asking me to join him for coffee. I was going to ask him to come here to help us, Scot thinks its a good idea what do you-" Northern Ireland was cut off by Wales harshly slamming a book down onto the project table, its dull thud echoing throughout the basement. Oh boy, Medwyn was still rather cross with him it would seem.
"Yes. Do that. Though I'm more knowledgeable about magic, Ireland is the one with the most powerful magic out of all of us. We need all the help we can get" Medwyn uttered, his teeth clenched and his hair sticking up in all manner of directions from his persistent rushing. Cian gulped audibly, backing slowly out of the basement to leave Medwyn to continue to work on an antidote, tapping the sent button. Everyone was so angry with him, rightly so, but Northern Ireland couldn't help but fret that Ireland would be too. How he wished he could go back in time and stop himself but alas, messing with time was a dangerous and near impossible thing. The Irishman hoped that Cathal would put aside his distain for Arthur and help the brothers out in their hunt for the tiny nation.
Cathal had to re-read the long response Cian had sent him several times over, a mixture of shock, amusement and astonishment mingling in his mind. What on earth had possessed Cian to do such a thing? Initially, his first reaction was to giggle at the thought of a shrunken Arthur cursing and shouting the odds at his misfortune, but he quickly reprimanded himself for his immaturity and planted the seriousness of the situation at the forefront of his thinking. It was a no-brainer. Cian and the others needed his help and he would happily give it for them, not Arthur mind you, but because Cian specifically asked him he would put aside his feelings on this occassion. Cathal immediately tapped a response back to Cian, confirming his presence at the UK sharehouse, then flagging down a taxi to take him to the location. Ireland could only envision the chaos unfolding in the home and could practically hear the arguments that would likely be taking place. In no time, Cathal arrived at the UK residence. But, before he could knock on the door Cian whipped the door wide open, almost taking it off his hinges. The man could clearly read how Cian was feeling: Guilty, anxious, scared. It was evident he now regretted his actions very much.
"You're here! Please help us, we still haven't found him" Northern Ireland's voice faltered, tears threatening the corners of his eyes. It broke Ireland's heart to see Northern Ireland so distressed. Though he was aware that Cian wasn't much of a hugger with him, Cathal tenderly placed a hand on the latter's shoulder and stepped inside the home.
"Ireland? That you, lad?" Cathal followed the sound of Scotland's voice to where he lay on the sofa, an arm draped over his eyes.
"Scot? What's wrong?" Cathal gasped, startled by the nation's state.
"I overdid it with a temporary spell I cast to grant myself enhanced vision...now my head is killing me... I'll be fine once the painkillers kick in" Alistair groaned.
"Och, I know the one you used and I don't envy you...It gives you such a terrible migraine! Nothing for it but to sleep it off" Ireland tilted his head to one side, planting his hands on his hips. "Come Cian, lets leave Scot to rest. Where's Medwyn?"
"The basement. Be warned he's uh...had better days..." Cian mumbled, leading Cathal through the house and downstairs to where he could hear the clattering of glass bottles and the utterings of Welsh curse words.
"Ireland?!" Arthur gasped aloud, unsure as to whether it really was the Irishman or that he'd hit his head too hard when he was rendered unconscious after his joyride. Groggily, Arthur stood and staggered over to the table leg and peered out, wishing fevently that he'd wake to find it had all been a dream. Sure enough, Arthur braced himself as footsteps pounded towards his location, the echoes of Cian and Cathal's voices dancing across the atomostphere. It was Ireland, but what was he doing here? Arthur assumed Cian had asked him to aid in the search still, he was surprised Ireland showed given the Irishman's distaste for England. Yet knowing Cathal was present and here to help gave Arthur some hope; Ireland did possess the strongest magical abilities out of all of the brothers after all. But, Arthur knew he couldn't just sit around and just wait to be found like a lost puppy. So, with a renewed sense of courage and faith, the tiny nation scurried out from underneath the table, making a beeline towards the dining room door with the objective of reaching the basement himself, however difficult that may be.
"Medwyn?" Wales craned his head towards the sound of the voice, one whose indistinguishable Dublin accent he could recognise instantly.
"Cathal? You're really here..." The Welshman almost dropped the jar of snake scales in his hands, astonished that the Irishman had turned up to help knowing it was Arthur who needed help. Suddenly, a crash wave of relief engulfed Wales and he impulsively tackled Cathal for a hug, almost knocking the Irishman off his feet.
"Whoa there! Seems I came at the right time, eh? Let's get started!" Ireland mused, already scouring the bookshelves with a look of sheer determination. "Cian, why don't you make us all some tea? I'm sure Scot would appreciate some too" The auburn-haired man smiled gently, winking at the latter. Cian looked to Medwyn, the Welshman avoiding eye contact and instead burying himself into his potion making once again. The silent treatment, something that touched Cian's nerves and made him feel as small as Arthur. Northern Ireland shuffled out of the basement and slowly trodded up the stairs with his head held low; he figured the next best thing he could do now was to make some tea, flicking the kettle switch on.
Arthur had reached the basement doorway, but the stairwell down posed too much of a hazard. Instead, he chose to follow a newly formulated plan B, which was to capture the attention of Northern Ireland as the country emerged from the dark basement and entered the kitchen. England raced to the side of a kitchen unit where a tea cloth hung on the handle of a cabinet door, using the gingham patterned material to haul himself up onto the counter top, where he observed Cian getting a tea tray ready. Now was his chance! England rushed across the surface of the marbled counter, waving his hands manically and roaring to try and get Northern Ireland's attention, forcing sparks of magic from his palms but in his frantic race against the clock missing Cian and misfiring in all directions. Concerned he may miss this opportunity to grab Cian's attention, Arthur scanned his surroundings of anything he could use to aid in his mission, spotting a stack of teabags that stood on the allocated tea bag tidy beside the kettle. That's it! Adding some height would surely increase Arthur's chances of being seen! Plus, the ginger had just taken out the tea bag from the pot and placed it on the tidy, providing the perfect point for Arthur to stand on. England scrambled up the tower of tea bags, slipping on the wetness of them, but able to reach the warm teabag that had just been used.
"Cian! Hey!" Arthur bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Cian hummed a sorrowful melody to himself as he turned to place a small plate of chocolate digestive biscuits onto the tea tray along with the cups and their matching saucers and a small jug of milk. When he spun to grab the tea pot, he realised he'd removed the tea bag prematurely and so, without much thought, Cian picked the used bag back up and dunked it, and Arthur, back into the teapot and placed the lid atop it.
"No! Cian no! I'm here!" Arthur wailed, pounding against the walls of the teapot, sweat beading across his forehead from the heat of the tea. Cian, unaware of the how close Arthur was in proximity, first carried the tray downstairs and poured both Medwyn and Cathal a cup of tea and offered them a biscuit to which Wales took one and Cathal took two. The pair munching on their biscuits gratefully while they examined an 'all seeing' spell in one of the many old books that adorned the basement shelves, books now littering the table surface and the ground. Arthur was thrust to and fro inside the teapot, screaming obscenities and futility attempting to climb out of the teapot. Cian decidedly left his two elder brothers to work, knowing he'd only be in the way, and carried the tray to where Scotland lay in the living room, creeping carefully around the doorway so as not to disturb the Scotsman. Setting a cup down, Cian poured Alistair a generous cup of tea, resulting in Arthur being forcibly flung through the spout and into the china cup below.
Arthur surfaced for air, gasping and coughing profusely while flailing uselessly to try and propell himself towards the rim of the cup so he could make his getaway. Unfortunately, the Englishman possessed poor swimming skills and so instead of inching closer to freedom, he splashed pathetically in place, all while screaming an obscenity of curses and attempting, but failing, to summon magical energy to his fingertips to draw attention to his whereabouts. Amidst his struggle, the nation felt the tea sway, which caused a wave of the warm beverage to swallow the Englishman and pull him underneath the soil brown liquid. Frightened, Arthur desperately tried to resurface, feeling the air supply in his lungs slowly ebb away as his vision gradually dwindled.