Hetalia - The Rains of Castamere

[Neutual Demon]

She could feel the sun beaming down on her, sand and loose seaweed beneath her. Huh, did she fall asleep on the beaches of the Canary Islands again? Or was it Ibiza? No, that couldn't be right... she would've remembered if she went to either of those islands. She was sure she didn't leave for her week vacation to the Canaries for another four months. Ah well, siestas were always nice, even if impromptu. She shifted, wincing as a stick decided that stabbing the poor short woman in the side of the head was the best idea in the world. She grumbled some well chosen, if not incoherent sounding curses as she blindly grappled for the stick, her hand getting jabbed at in multiple attempts before she found the main branch and pushed it away from her.

 

Urgh, she wasn't going to go back to sleep now. Now with her hand aching from evil sticks of doom. Cracking an eye open, the Spaniard blinked at the blue skies above before sitting up. She was wearing sneakers- to which she immediately kicked off in order to carry them- no socks of any kind, with khaki shorts that reached just below her knees (her favorite pair with all those handy pockets!), and a short sleeved shirt that matched her flag's colors. Oh- and there was a wide-brimmed hat that she "borrowed" from a sibling of hers, laying on the sand a few feet away. Yet she couldn't hear any normal sounds of beach-goers, although she did hear some impressive bird noises coming from the trees behind her.

 

Jumping to her feet, Spain stooped down to grab her shoes and her hat, cramming the headware onto her head to block the sun from her eyes. She was used to walking through hot sand, so she easily made her way across the beach with her unprotected feet. "Hola? Hay alguien aquí?" God she hoped she wasn't alone on this island- that sounded like the base of twenty bazillion horror movies.

 

--

 

Vatican became aware of two things: one, he was very uncomfortable, and two, he could hear the sound of waves. The charcoal haired man scrunched his eyebrows together, though his eyes refused to open. His home wasn't near the ocean, and he didn't recall ever going to a beach or anything of the sort. He'd like being at home much better than crowded beaches. He dared to shift slightly, and immediately regretting his decision as what felt like hundreds of sharp needles jab him through his clothes. Okay, so he was still wearing his normal attire- that being a lightweight jacket and pants. Although he didn't feel any shoes on his feet, wincing as he attempted to wiggle his toes, only for them to be stabbed them as well. Strange, the only time he took his shoes off was when it was polite to do so, or he was at home. And he was definitely not at home.

 

Vatican opened his eyes, blinking up at bright green leaves above him. The sun was shining past the leaves, making an intricate pattern of light and shade around him. He was laying amongst some shrubbery, as if someone had unceremoniously dumped him in the nearest clump of bushes and left him. Yet he could hear the waves of the sea quite clearly from her, and if he dared lift his head a fraction, could see the beach. No, he hadn't been deposited far from the beach, only a few feet from it, just within the shade of the trees. He sighed, before attempted to make the painstaking process of removing himself from the bushes he had found himself in.

 

--

 

His feet were getting wet. North Italy frowned. He didn't fall asleep in the bathtub again, did he? No, he hadn't, he had been sticking to showers since the last bathtub incident. He'd almost drowned! Also his mouth tasted funny, like...

 

He sat up suddenly, spluttering and snorting sand out of his mouth and nose. No wonder it had been so dark! He had been sleeping face first in the sand! He whined, rubbing the sand off his face. Oh dear, did he get so distracted that he somehow passed out on the local beach? He did that once before, only that he fell asleep in a sandbox at the local park instead and pigeons had pooped all over him as they tried to pick his pockets of the snacks he tended to carry about in his pockets.

 

"My poor shoes," he whined softly after he successfully removed the sand from his face. His poor, poor leather shoes were totally ruined by the seawater! He peeled them off looking at them for a moment before picking himself off the ground. Well, he almost didn't make it that far as he noticed what exactly what he was wearing.

 

He was wearing the most tackiest blue shorts with little white clam shells on them and this horrendous washed-out pink shirt that could've been the result of washing whites with reds, that had this ugly pastel yellow winking face on it that had bright purple, thick woman lips in a kissing pose. Oh Christ in Heaven, he hadn't been drink-shopping again, had he?! He was sure he squealed like a little girl at the sight of himself. This HAD to be a nightmare! There was no other explanation for this monstrosity of an outfit! He'd rather go naked! And the only thing normal he had was his poor, poor leather shoes...

 

North Italy's horror was shattered when someone else cried out, something about fried chicken. He snapped his head around, spotting a figure way farther down the beach. "Hey!" he called, waving his hands in the air, a shoe in each. Finally! A hopefully friendly face!

 

 

(( Spanish translation: Hola? Hay alguien aquí?- Hello, is there anyone here? ))

Edited August 3, 2014 by Neutual Demon

[pudding]

When Prussia slept, he barely slept. A good night's sleep was surprising and he usually found himself waking up suddenly in the middle of the night, clutching his pillow close to his chest. It was questionable behavior for sure but he didn't elaborate on it or dismissed it as readying himself for a fight out of instinct. Fighting was in his veins, he'd say. Why sleep when there was a face to punch? And that would be the end of that conversation and on to another one more interesting and fun that wasn't so demeaning and personal.

 

But really, there was reasons for him not to speak of that. Out of everything that had ever happened to him, the events following World War II had been traumatic, to say the least. To start, immediately following a war he was scarcely involved in, he was suddenly taken prisoner and dragged away from his brother to be abolished. That was enough to make anyone wake up screaming, trying to grab any nearby object to confirm that they were still alive and existing. What if he fell asleep and never woke up again? What if he disappeared in the middle of the night? There were many things Prussia was afraid of but disappearing was one of them. He didn't want to go. He really didn't want to go. He had too much unfinished business and even besides that, he didn't know where nations went when they died. He was religious, of course, but what were nations? Did God create them and did they go to Heaven?

 

But slightly under the fear of dying was the fear of Russia. Not long after being abolished, he was dragged off again. It had been assumed that the reason he hadn't disappeared was because he was a part of Germany-East Germany to be exact. This was a belief that fell out of practice quickly but not quickly enough for him to avoid being torn away from Germany to Russia's house. In the past, it had felt like they were more on frenemy terms. He'd attack Russia a few times as children and Russia would fight back. They were fun, proper wars and for a while, Prussia would just taunt Russia and just laugh when she got irritated. But those forty years before he managed to get away and join back up with his brother were horrendous and that was caused him to wake up screaming. He hated Russia, even feared her now. So being prodded awake and finding the familiar face leering over him was not the best wake up call.

 

For a moment, he just stared, blinking slowly as his mind went completely blank. Then, the fear set in and he let out a horrified shriek. He jerked upright and dragged himself backwards, using his hands to pull the rest of his body away from Russia as quickly as he could. His breath caught in his throat as he was forced to stop as his back thudded against a tall palm tree. Where was he?! And more importantly, why had he woken up to a face full of Russia?! What kind of sick Hell was this?

 

 

 

 

 

"It was with you," England replied harshly, crossing her arms over her chest. "This isn't the time to rest, this is the time to gather supplies, assemble a fort, find some fresh water! Not sit around on your arse!" She fumed slightly, digging her toes slightly into the sand. "Now get up and be useful for once in your life or I'll find the sharpest stone I can and give you a choppy military cut, got it?!" She hated France with a burning passion. Even if he had yet to raise his voice, even just being around him was enough to make her yell. He could be doing nothing and she'd be at his throat in a second.

[Chicogal]

France smirked at England. Did she really think that she could force him to do something? Silly woman. He reached up to the neck of his shirt, walking backwards as he pulled it up and over his head. It would be good to work on his tan again. He bundled it up in his hand, and suddenly threw it at her. "Bet you can't catch me!" he called, lips curled in a cruel tease as he turned and sprinted across the long beach. His brown hair flew out majestically behind him. It was a bit mean, but he was sure that England wouldn't catch up. And if she didn't bother to run, then he would be a good distance away from her.

[SoiledLove]

After not seeing any signs that could point him to where, exactly, he was, South Korea fell into a despairing silence, mourning for his Fried Chicken. That was, until, a shout made him look up. He looked around and spotted another person waving his or her arms about, standing on the beach. Okay... How could he have missed that? He recognized that voice, South Korea was pretty sure he did. He squinted at the figure and decided that the best way to find out who they were was to get over there. "Hey!" He yelled back, jogging towards the figure. Oh, was that Italy? If it was, that was great. South Korea liked Italy since Italy wasn't one of those serious, stuck-up countries. He was fun and knew how to relax. Even America was sometimes a little too eh for South Korea, and South Korea was more or less raised by America. That was what caused the rift between him and North, after all. They just became too... Different after their stays with America and the USSR, respectively. He kind of envied North Italy and South Italy...

[pudding]

England was briefly at a standstill as she tried to look at France while not paying attention to the fact he was stripping. God dammit, what was up with France and suddenly stripping? If he started to take his pants off, she was going to knee him in the crotch. Either way, it made her very uncomfortable that he was being so... open. No sooner than she started to turn away, her face was suddenly covered by cloth, followed by the most irritating voice in the universe taunting her. She tore the shirt from her face and watched him sprint away down the beach. "You baguette eating ***!" She yelled as she took off after him, unable to deal with his taunting at all. "Come back here and let me kick your ass good and proper!"

[Chicogal]

France simply cackled when she yelled at him. Oh, England. She was good to tease, apart from the violence. But he would just hit her back if she deserved it. There were no qualms to be had about that. He changed course, angling to the left in order to splash into the turquoise waves. He waded in to his hips, and turned around to stick his tongue out at her. Would she brave the water? That was something that he did not know. Perhaps she was scared of being underwater, with having bad breathing and all. Whatever. It wasn't his problem.

[shadow_claw]

Warmth? This was a notion somewhat unfamiliar to him. Blinking his eyes open, Germany realized almost instantly that he wasn't home. He kept his house a few degrees below room temperature, and his country didn't get this humid. But how had he women up on an island of all places? Wasting no time, he stood and brushed himself off. Jean shorts. Tennis shoes. A tank top. In other words, he wasn't wearing what he fell asleep in. Everything about the entire situation seemed strange. Hallo? Not that he expected a reply. It was just on a whim. If there was anyone nearby, he would most likely be heard.

 

---

 

Was that...Spanish she heard? Yeah, it had to be! America stood up and looked about excitedly. Should she respond? Oh jeez, she was a little rusty in her Spanish...Si! Uh...Va aquí! Está a la playa! Did she say that all right? Hopefully...America tried hard to learn other nations' languages. It was an easy way to get to know people if one learned his/her native language. Besides, one felt more comfortable when given the option to speak a more well-known language. As soon as she finished talking, the brunette headed towards where the original voice had come from. It sounded like Spain...Did that mean there were other nations around too?

 

((Translation: Yeah, come here! I'm on the beach!

 

Hehe...Spanish lessons, you have finally done something for me!))

[Chicogal]

Denmark paused by the treeline. She had heard a voice. A familiar, deep voice at that. A sound that she had heard many times throughout the years of her life. "HEJ?" she called out loudly. She thought it was Germany. She hoped it was Germany. Starting to jog down the beach, she looked to the left and spotted his unmissable figure. "Tyskland!" she called, jumping up and down and waving her arms. With a laugh of relief, she started to jog toward him. She wouldn't have wanted anyone other than him or a member of Scandinavia.

[pudding]

Adrenaline pushed the uncomfortable feelings from her lungs and chest as she reached out to grab ahold of one of France's arms. He was taller and faster than she but she wasn't going to give up until she had his fat, stupid face in a headlock or they were both too exhausted to move any further. Suddenly, he ducked out of her line of sight, causing the little woman to plow on for a few feet longer before turning her head to the ocean to stare at him. There was a slight hesitation as she stared at the rolling waves before grabbing ahold of France's shirt he had thrown at her face. Armada and everything, she was slightly ashamed to admit that she did not swim. She sank like a stone in water and while comfortable on a ship riding the waves, the water itself was a different matter. Maybe she could doggy paddle a bit but she had never actually attempted such a thing.

 

So, holding his shirt firmly, she turned away with a snort and stalked back to the forest. Fresh water seemed unlikely here so she'd have to built some kind of a filter. But first, she was going to torch France's shirt and use it to start a fire. She lifted up her skirt slightly and picked out her hip flask to see if she had any alcohol left.

[Chicogal]

France looked at her, head slightly tilted like a poodle. She was giving up without a word. Just walking away. No. That was what she wanted him to think. God, playing games with England could get difficult at times. He dipped underneath the waves to wet his head, and flicked his hair back once he was out. Ah, he could feel the magnificence of his chestnut locks~ He jogged back after her, joining the small nation at a distance. "Ah, so I have won zhe battle but not zhe war? I theenk zhat is what zhey say, mon petite anglais fleur?" He smirked, arrogant nose in the air.

[HomeForFlowers]

Just as annoyance began to bite at the edge of Russia's mind, she saw a stir in Prussia's body. At first, it was just the occasional movement of a facial feature such as the furrowing of a brow, licking of the lips, squeezing of the eyelids, twitching of the mouth corners and so on. The rest of his body followed his face though it was not as expressive. His fingertips would twitch, hips would adjust and shoulders would roll as they do for most people when the wake up. It took only half a moment for Prussia's eyes to open to a face full of Russia.

"Ah good," Russia purred as she slowly began to elevate herself. "You're avake, perhaps now I can ask you how-"

 

A piercing howl of terror cut off Russia's question. Had she not of been used to hearing people scream so loudly, Russia just might of jumped, however, her time with working out with... problematic persons helped her to overcome the fear of sudden shriek. Though her experience kept her from leaping backward, Russia could not help but tense her muscles as she became startled by Prussia's sudden shriek. The man bolted upward and began to drag himself backward before colliding with a tree. Complete and utter shock along with horror laced Prussia's facial features. He was clearly horrified to wake up with Russia in his face, but, alas, Russia merely overlooked this and concerned herself more with the fact that it seemed as though Prussia didn't know where they were.

 

"I take that as a no then," Russia huffed, mildly miffed that Prussia had failed to give her the information she was looking for. "Vell, I suppose I should you leave you to your yelling. Paka!" With that said, Russia straightened herself out and began to make her into the jungle once more. Maybe if she looked around, she could find someone else laying around. Hopefully, they wouldn't scream in her face like Prussia did. It wasn't like it was the first time Prussia had wailed when he glanced at Russia. It was probably the most unpleasant time he had done so considering Russia got a earful of his shrieks as opposed to being a meter or two away from him. Shrugging off thoughts of Prussia, Russia continued walking, not caring where she ended up or whether or not the albino followed her.

[Neutual Demon]

Italy's face broke out into a wide smile as the figure down the beach responded, jogging towards the Italian. As he got closer, Italy could make out the facial features of South Korea and he beamed. "South Korea! Hello! Did you take a nap in the sand too?" he grinned, before remembering the shoes in his hands and his face fell. "Oh, it's horrible! I woke up dressed like a false Italian-American in New Jersey and my precious shoes got ruined by seawater!" he wailed as he began to have his hands again, shoes still clutched in them. "I can't decide if this is some horrid dream or I went drunk-shopping again! Oh, my intoxicated self has no fashion sense at all!" He sniffled, his shoulders slumping. "But if you're here...this cannot be a nightmare at all...Questo è terribile."

 

--

 

Spain cocked an ear upward as she heard a reply to her call. It was a very accented, jagged form of Spanish, as if the speaker was struggling to string a proper sentence together. However, it sounded like an American, if her observation of her tourists were correct. Actually, the voice itself sounded entirely familiar...

"América?!" she called out, taking her shoes in one hand as she jogged down the sandy shoreline towards the voice. "Eres tu?" She didn't see her on this side of the beach, so the speaker must be around the cluster of trees that happen to jut out further than the rest of the treeline. "Han aquellos mexicanos finalmente convertida en español?" she called out once more, a laugh carrying in her words. If she can keep the hopefully America talking, she could locate her much quicker.

 

(( Translations:

Italian- .Questo è terribile; This is terrible.

Spanish- Eres tu?; is that you?

-Han aquellos mexicanos finalmente convertida en español?; Have those Mexicans finally converted you to Spanish? ))

 

[shadow_claw]

((Oh gosh that has me laughing Neutral))

 

Of course Spain would be snarky. She had expected it, but it still irritated her. Si, soy America. Eres España, no? In a rather dull, uninterested voice, she replied. America broke into a light jog. Soon enough, the short nation was in sight. The brunette grinned at Spain and waved. Sé español por que yo quieré. Es facíl. With a small shrug, she slowed to a stop in front of Spain. I'm not as dumb as I look, you know. I've been trying to learn to speak everything fluent...ish. So it was Spain. That meant there would likely be other nations around too. That was a comforting thought. So...Any idea how we got here? I mean, if there's a way off, I wanna know it.

 

((Translation: Yeah, I'm America. You're Spain, no? I know Spanish because I wanted to. It's easy.))

 

Was that...It had to be! Germany hurried in the direction of Denmark's voice. As soon as the waving figure was in sight, he waved back with a hand. Dänemark! Although it was hard to tell from such a distance, he was smiling. Denmark was one of the first people he would prefer to be stuck with. She could carry her own weight, unlike Italy or some of his other friends. Prussia could, but Prussia was an ass about it. No, Denmark was a good choice. It was relieving to think that there were others on this beach. Going alone...he didn't like the thought.

[pudding]

England pretended to mind her own business. She really did. She shifted the shirt to one hand as she inspected one of the palm trees, looking down near its base for dry leaves. She didn't have anything substantial in the flask but it could be used to store water. But, France walking back over didn't really help her. And him taunting her with winning battles didn't help any more. Her eyebrow twitched as she straightened upright and took a half step away from France... Before suddenly whipping around and throwing a punch at his big, stupid nose. "Won the battle my ass!" She yelled as she tried to tackle him. "Why would I ever forfeit to you?!"

 

 

 

Prussia stared at Russia in utter shock as she stood up like nothing had happened. So…that was it? No sudden brutality or slaps or anything like that? He half expected her to suddenly turn and launch herself at him but it was like she couldn't even be bothered give him the time of day. That was amazing! It was like a dream come true! The scariest, most horrifying country in the world didn't hurt him or anything like that. It didn't make him any more confident around her but it did make him thankful that he wasn't injured.

 

Becoming more aware of his surroundings, he started to stand upright before suddenly grabbing his side with one hand. He stumbled slightly as his hand reached out to grip the palm tree he had backed into for support. Gritting his teeth, he curled over slightly and bit his cheek. He had managed to bandage himself before arriving at the hotel and take some painkillers but those had obviously worn off. And Hell, it hurt. He reached his hand down and pinched his arm as hard as he could, twisting the skin around to try to distract himself from the pain in his chest as he stepped away from the tree and straightened upright. He was a soldier. He had handled worse than a busted rib!

 

Looking in the direction Russia had gone, he took a short breath then looked around. It didn't look like anywhere civilized and he couldn't count on anyone else being on the island. As much as he feared, hated and loathed her, he would have to assume she would be his only company. He couldn't hold out for France or Spain to show up and aid him in this mess. After a clear hesitation, he started to follow her. Survival situations meant that he'd have to rely on the help he could get, even if it was someone like Russia. He'd just tag along at a safe distance behind her, hopefully far enough to sprint away and climb up a tree if she tried to chase him down and actually hurt him. Climbing a palm tree wouldn't be exactly comfortable but it was better than getting pummeled by Russia. Besides, maybe they could help each other. He knew a bit about surviving but not so much on islands.

[Chicogal]

Denmark reached him in a couple of moments more. "Oh, I'm so glad I'm not stranded alone," she admitted. Taking his shoulders, she leaned up to press a kiss to each of his cheeks in excited greeting. He had nice shoulders... Wait, what? Mentally shaking her head, she came back down to earth in two ways and removed her hands. "So, I haven't seen anyone else about here. I think it might just be us." She picked at the threading on her shorts' pocket absentmindedly. "I think we should try to find some water first of all... no?"

 

France should have seen it coming. He went whirling away from her with a howl, fingers clutched over his now-bleeding nose. "MERDE MERDE!" he cursed. Immediately deciding that revenge would be the proper thing to do. His hands flew down from.the fountain of blood, sending a sprinkle of red all over the place. In tje same movement, he sent a kick at Britain's stomach. "FOUTRE LE CAMP, ANGLAIS!"

 

(( ~ French rudery ~ ))

[SoiledLove]

South Korea grinned when he realized that it WAS Italy and he had not been wrong. He was always right, anyways, no matter what other people said. It would've been horrible to have his streak broken. "Hello Italy, fancy meeting you here! I wonder why we took a nap in the sand..." He grimaced, "there's sand in my ear." He shook his head and got the sand out as he listened to the Italian's short tale, gasping dramatically in the right places. "Naneun algoissda," South Korea eventually said, nodding in agreement to the other. "It is terrible! I mean, I don't know where I am and my Fried Chicken that I majimag-eulo eod-eul!" He made a teary face. "It's going to be ruined when I get back... If I get back!" South Korea glomped his companion miserably as if expected comfort.

 

((Naneun algoissda - I know

majimag-eulo eod-eul - there's not really a very good translation for this, although google translate says it's 'finally got' I translated it from Chinese to Korean. Finally works, though, since it does imply that it took a lot of time/work to get it))

Edited August 6, 2014 by SoiledLove

[Neutual Demon]

She nearly choked on a snort at the supposed America's question. "Of course I'm Spain!" she managed to spit out, not realizing she switched to English. She was quite affronted with the inquiry. Who else would she be? Certainly not Mexico or any Central to Southern American country! The Spaniard wrinkled her nose and huffed when America came into view, folding her arms over her chest. "I don't know, you look pretty stupid. Mustn't be much of an improvement." The corner of her lips quirked upward, her words not holding any sharpness to them.

 

The American's next question made Spain pause, mulling over the words. "I got nothing," she said after a moment. "I think I was hitting the bottle too much." It was true, she probably found that stash that Prussia had sent her like ages ago and had never gotten around to it.

 

Blowing out a sigh, Spain contemplated their next move. "It's hard to tell what hemisphere we're even in during the day," Spain mused, tilting her head skyward as she held the rim of her hat, pulling it down just slightly in order to shade her face from the sun. "We should check at night to see if we can find Polaris or any constellations that would give us at least what half of this planet we're on." She hummed in thought for a moment. "Judging by the intensity of the sun and the relative angle, I'm going to take a gander and say we're somewhere's near the Equator...ish." Her navigation skills were a bit rusty- it had been some time, a few wars (including one with America), since she had been the domineering force of the land and sea. She preferred where she was now- less hassle and more time to grow tomatoes.

 

"From where we can walk the perimeter of the beach, find a stream or river that feeds into the ocean and follow it inward. It's a source of fresh water, it will naturally lead to higher ground to which we can either reach high enough to view the entire land or at least part of it, and the statistics of civilization settling next to a dependent water supply is fairly reasonable. Although if we don't find a village of cannibals or anything, the water will attract whatever animals that live on this place so we can hunt them and eat them." She shrugged, grinning. "Hopefully this adventure won't turn out like Lord of the Flies did."

 

---

 

South Korea made a good listener, Italy idly mused in the back of his head. He made all the appropriate noises in all the right places. Then he spoke about his fried chicken being missing, causing the Italian to gasp too. The Italian was quick to bring comfort to the Korean as the other man hugged him, wrapping his arms around his unfortunate companion. "I'll make you some when we get back!" North Italy said, sounding very determined. "And we'll go clothes shopping to replace this hideous attire!" There was no question of 'if', but 'when'. After all, when an Italian makes up their mind, there was no way in Hell they were going to change it anytime soon.

 

The thought remained in the back of the Italian's mind, being pushed there as Italy was distracted by some very loud birds making a ruckus in one of the nearby palm trees. "We need to come up with a battle plan!" he said, regretfully letting go of his companion. His face fell as he lapsed into silence for a moment. "Er... what do we need if we're stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere?" He was never good at these survival things! It happened all the time during WWII- he would start to pack, get distracted, and then arrive on the battlefield with nothing but a pair of socks and a half used package of dried pasta! No wonder they lost...

 

[SoiledLove]

This was exactly why Italy was such a good friend, South Korea thought to himself. While he and Italy may not have had that much of a history together (like he and North Korea), they really did understand each other. Or maybe it was just that they were too much alike? It didn't really matter. Whatever the reason, South Korea gratefully accepted the comfort that Italy gave. "Thank you, Italy! Gamsahagessseubnida geu!" He said at Italy's suggestion, composing himself and trying to get over his loss of Fried Chicken.

 

South Korea nodded solemnly at Italy's next statement, pulling back. "We indeed do..." He agreed, unsure of what to say next. When Italy asked the next question, South Korea couldn't help shrugging. He may be clever and creative and pretty much an awesome genius, but, and he'd admit it only this once and only because he was never wrong, that North was better at these serious things. You know, like, survival and paperwork and being a mean jerk. South liked technology, okay? And playing games, whether on screen or not on screen. He had pushed Seoul into attending most of the 'serious' lessons for him, since the two looked so alike, while he played outside, or fiddled with some invention or another. An idea suddenly hit South Korea. "I know!" He exclaimed, taking out a Samgsung Galaxy Note from, well, who knows where. He turned it on and the words 'no signal' shone out at him. He shrugged, putting the phone away. "Okay, I don't know... But!" He held up a finger as if he thought of another idea. Then, very slowly, he poked Italy in the arm. "Tag! You're it!" And ran off into the sea, laughing.

 

((gamsahagessseubnida geu - I appreciate it))

Edited August 7, 2014 by SoiledLove

[pudding]

A retaliation of some kind was expected but a kick so soon after being struck was not. The blow hit her hard in the gut and the Englishwoman stumbled backwards before falling onto her rear, both hands wrapped around her tiny chest. It hurt and throbbed but that was by no means the end. An exchange between the two never ended so easily with just one blow each. No, their fights ended when it was impossible for them to move. "Speak ****ing English, you ***!" England roared back as her hands dug into the sand. Always one to play dirty, she had no quarrels with aiming to disable the much taller Frenchman. Eyes were especially vulnerable to attacks. With a wheeze, she flung her hands up, throwing balls of sand at France's face as she tried to climb to her knees to regain some lost ground.

[Chicogal]

"PARLAIS FRANÇAIS, TU CUL!" France yelled in retaliation. Why should he have to speak English? Filthy, uncultured, rough language - that was what it was when compared to his own. He gritted his teeth, leering over her folded form. Ha! That was what you got from trying to mess with him. His nose in the air, he sniffed; and granular sand invaded his eyes. He stumbled backwards blindly, desperately rubbing at them. Gah! He knew that he would need water to wash this out.

 

"FOUTRE LE CAMP!" he yelled again, long brown legs carrying him at a fast pace to the shore. His nose was running and his eyes were streaming as he dove into the waves. The Frenchman shook his head underwater. The sand shifted as he opened his dark eyes and blinked into the roiling blue depths. It was pretty... But he had more than pleasing surroundings on his mind. A low growl rose in his throat as he surfaced from beneath the water.

[The Opium Lady]

Greece was face down in the sand. The nation rolled over, allowing himself to use the long jacket as a shield from the hot sand. Greece looked around before making the horrible revelation that this was real. "Agh!" he screamed, jumping to his feet. It would have been one thing if he fell asleep on the couch at South Korea's party and was dreaming, but this was...how did this happen? "Italy?" Greece called out, his friend being the last person he saw before this happened.

 

No response...well then. Greece decided to look around. An island, not a particluarly big one from what he could tell. The Greek wondered if anyone else was around, didn't look like it. Hmmm, well this wasn't the end of the world, after all, Greeks were known for island hoping and seafairing, though that golden age was still when Grandma was Greece. This Greece had no real skill in boating, though he was sure, if he looked deep inside she could figure this situation out.

 

Greece took off the long coat and hung it on a tree, revealing a light blue shirt and a pair of baggy beige pants underneath.

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China was sitting by herself, cross legged in the sand. Hmm interesting area, though this made absolutely no sense. First she was watching America break down into a temper tantrum and now she was alone on an Island...so she thought. But people have a tendency to show up, and likely there were natives to this place or something. Best that she go exploring, and see just who was there.

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Macau was excited, not even paying attention to the fact that she was stranted in the middle of nowhere. The girl let her hair flow free and ran into the ocean, letting the sea currents wash her back to shore, giggling as she came back to solid land. "Another Macau Original!" she exclaimed, reffering to the fact that no other nation would ever be caught doing this.

 

Her giggling was loud, and if another nation was to have been around on this island, they certainly would hear it

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Portugal eyed the waves meticulously. A bit of nostalgia hit him, ahh it reminded him of his youth, sailing the ocean currents, visiting far off lands and exotic women. Those were good years, but now he was grown. But he had to say, that it was a bit fun to be back in this situation, stranded on an island with no hope of escape. This scenario used to happen all the time for Portugal, and he smiled a little at the thought of being back like this one more time.

Edited August 9, 2014 by The Opium Lady

[SoiledLove]

((Good to see you, Opium. Thy has arrived in time to save me from the terror known as limbo. I hope you're feeling better))

 

Hong Kong blinked as he awoke, seeing cloud-free blue skies and trees above him. He was sure that he had just been in South Korea's house mere moments ago. He sighed. Weird things happened to the countries all the time, so he had better get used to it, despite the fact that it defied all logic. He sat up and promptly fell from his previously unnoticed perch that was a bent almost horizontally palm tree. He landed on the ground with a thud, his expression not giving away his shock except for his blinking and wide eyes. Well, it sure was quiet, except for the birds. It was almost never this quiet for him, whether in his city state or with another country. He hadn't really gone sight seeing around the world or anything and, he will admit, he was a bit of a hermit, only leaving his city when the others asked him to. And, maybe the silence was making him hear things, but he was pretty sure he could hear Macau, laughing.

...

And the sound did not go away.

Getting up and dusting himself off, Hong Kong decided to investigate. He walked towards where he thought the noise was coming from and saw a figure. Yes, he was pretty sure that was Macau now. He leaned against a tree as he watched his hyper sort of sister play. He frowned a little. How the hell did they even get here?

 

-

 

Canada frowned, her eyebrows coming together, as she stared at the length of yellow sand and blue sea before her. It was a good beach, yes, Canada would admit that. And, yes, this would probably be the ideal place to go to on vacation. However, there was one, small, tiny problem. She wasn't on vacation. She was stranded in an unknown place with no idea how to get home. She took a deep breath, trying to wash away the panic. She was a country, she could deal with this. But, she didn't want to never be able to see America or France or England again and- Calm down! She took another deep breath. Think of the positives! It had been a while since she had seen the beach and, she smiled a little, played in the sand. She wished she could come to places like this more often, get out of her country more often, but she was sometimes just so damn shy and meek without something that angered her around. It wasn't that her country wasn't beautiful - she absolutely loved her own country - since there were a lot of lakes and glaciers and foresty areas. There were beaches, too. But still.

 

Canada pouted a little and walked towards the waves, not noticing the other occupant of the beach. Staring at the waves a little apprehensively - she hoped to god there weren't any sharks in there - she toed off her shoes and carefully removed her socks before walking barefoot into the waves. She smiled at the feeling of water. She wasn't like Portugal or Spain or the others who adored sailing and water and whatnot, in fact, she didn't swim or sail all that much at all, preferring hockey and dry land, but she still liked the feeling of the waves against her legs. Lifting her skirt slightly, though it wasn't needed, she ventured a little deeper into the waves after some hesitation.

[Chicogal]

((bump. I may have to remove inactives.))

[pudding]

((Sorry!))

 

England teetered dangerously, holding her stomach as she climbed to her feet. It looked like her attack had worked pretty well. That was the glory of underhand tactics, of course. " your camp too!" England yelled as she grabbed ahold of the trunk of a nearby tree, her legs buckling slightly as she focused on France's retreating form. The *** had run into the ocean yet again. Her eyes squinted in the harsh sunlight as she panted, trying to regain control of her wild breathing. She would complain about France deliberately aiming for a weak point but then again, she had just thrown sand in his eyes. Dirty fighting was mutual so it was hard to complain without being a hypocrite.

 

Shaking her head slightly, she stumbled forward, raising both of her fists as she moved into the turf. Her feet splashed into the shallow water there as she focused on the bubbles and where France quickly emerged from. Certainly too deep for her but she'd get him out eventually. "Come on, you dog! Stop bumbling around and fight like a damn country!" She wasn't going to take any of his bull right now and rather just wanted to kick him a couple times between the legs before going to do serious things. Like finding a good source of water.

[Marcus Pheonix]

((Sorry as well!))

 

Australia opened his eyes and sat up. Why was he in sand? Did he get too drunk again? He looked out towards the ocean, watching the waves roll buy. He paused and looked up and down the beach, only there were no buildings in site.

"This is weird... wasn't I at South Koreas place just a minute ago? Or was it an hour?" Australia asked. He shrugged and stood up, looking around. Turning he hurried up one of the dunes to get a better vantage point. He looked further up and down the beach and his eyes narrowed, there was something small off in the distance.

He pulled off his shoes and began running bare foot along the sand, occasionally dancing into the water. As he got closer he soon made out the shape of the person seated.

"Hey! China, where are we? Did you bring me her!? I thought we were still mates!" He called. Although his words were filled with worry, he had zero worry in him, at the moment he was just happy to see a familiar face.