arcanarumlogs | The dire wolf collects his dues, while the boys sing round the fire

Who: France and you!
When: November 1st, from about noon to sunset
Where: All over the island - feel free to meet him anywhere!
What: France is alive, but contemplating his successive deaths in the forest, and is appreciating life just a little more. Also he looks terrible.
Warnings: Mentions of death and small mentions of bile, lots of ~feelings~. Likely lots of tearful reunions.

It was with a jolt that Francis woke, as he sat straight up with a gasp. But his head began to spin, his whole body tingled as he remembered the scene in the forest, with the wolf slashing at his flesh. It almost seemed like a dream, now, but it felt so real -

Francis felt the bile rising in his throat and in a rush he tried to clamber out of bed, to get to the bathroom, but his limbs just wouldn't work - they were numb from not being used for several days. So he ended up on all fours on the floor, retching, body trembling all over from the nostalgic chills of pain, from the phantom feeling of missing flesh despite his side looking very much present, and him being very much alive. France felt as if he was going to be sick again, but he had nothing in his stomach in the first place, so the little bit of bile was all that stained his floor, as he continued to dry heave for what seemed like an eternity. Damn this mortal body! Francis thought to himself, eyes closed, teeth gritted, as he tried to get it back under his control.

Once it seemed to be done, Francis coughed, wiping off his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He recognized it - the old, blood-stained, red costume he was forced to wear that night. Thankfully, the hat and the mask were completely gone. But that thing... it still felt wrong to be in it. And with the slight smell of blood... well, it was almost making him sick, again. So he decided to quickly change out of it into something else. He tugged off the coat, throwing it to the side - the shirt went over his head and in the same pile. The boots he had to sit on the floor to tug off, and the leggings were (thankfully) easy to remove. Shakily, he stood back up, and went to his wardrobe to look at his choices. He pulled on a simple shirt and pair of slacks - but he had to lean against the wardrobe to get dressed, and he couldn't even really be bothered with buttons or laces, so he ended up also slipping on a pair of loafers.

Once Francis has changed out of his old costume and fixed his room (thank god his imagination could get rid of his bile and that old costume for good), he carefully used the wall to climb out into the main room of his house. But that wasn't what he was interested in - he wanted to go outside. So, he used the wall to make it to the front door, and stepped outside.

Then sun felt good on his face. It almost made him feel better, somehow, and it was what finally got him to take a trembling step on his own, away from any support. Within a few minutes, he felt as if he could walk again, and so he started around the island, looking at everything again with new eyes. But something still plagued his thoughts, and that was the thought of his death in the forest. He remembered distinctly that he had said his last goodbyes to a number of people. Was he going mad? He had remembered distinct times when he felt himself giving his last breath. And they were multiple. But that was impossible, unless...

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Working out was one of the few things Germany could effectively do to keep himself controlled and his mind focussed. And with little else to do, he had come to do so more than just once per day. Early in the morning after waking up or in the late evening hours. Anything but being stuck inside all day.

The park was just one decent place to go for a run. He didn't mind the cold temperatures and while the sky darkened above, the nation stuck in an awfully mortal body could... Think. Because there were many things he had to think about. The recent events for once. But also he had to roll ideas and information around if he wanted to form a solid plan to go against their captors. Because he was sick of it already. They would pay. For trapping everyone here and playing with them. He would make sure of that.

The German idly noticed another person up ahead. At this hour that was a bit odd, but Germany wasn't going to question anyone's motives. He was here himself after all. And it was only once he got closer to that person that he slowly began to recognize a familiar shape...

France had just given up exploring the island again methodically after the first few hours. So by that evening, he had just been idly walking - he had no idea where he was (as he wasn't paying much attention to anything but the sights and sounds), and he certainly didn't know why he felt like going that way. But it was later in the evening, as he was thinking about returning home, that he reached the park.

It's all too late to do anything about it when he realizes that there's another person with him. He stops, looking up at the approaching figure, to see Germany, out for one of his daily runs. A cold chill runs through his spine, but France is not sure whether it's due to the memory (or was it a memory?) of his death in front of Germany, or if it was the weather, or a bit of both, or neither at all.

He must have looked odd to Germany, wearing no coat, having pulled on just some simple clothes and some loafers. No jacket, not even a sweater against the cold. France just stared at Germany as he approached, his blue eyes a lot more muted, a lot less sparkling and cheerful than usual.

"Bonsoir, Allemagne."

It felt like approaching a ghost. And maybe that was just what it was. Because this couldn't be France. France had died. Right in front of his eyes. By his own hands! Darn it. He could still feel France's throat under his hand when he let himself get carried away into idleness.

With a grimace of clear disbelief on his face Germany slowed to a stop that left several metres between the two nations. He didn't speak. He only stared, panting somewhat from his workout. But this couldn't have been a ghost. There were no ghosts. Or were there? Surely no one died and came back just like that! So it really only left the ghost possibility.

"...have you come to haunt me?"

Francis could sense the uneasiness in the other nation, as he too felt a certain uneasiness in his heart. He had been given a little confirmation from Teddie, that in fact he had died... so he was certain that Germany had seen him die. And that the hands around his throat really had been real.

But he wasn't sure he felt anger over what had happened. And Germany's words made him laugh, even if the anxious feeling was still there.

"Haunt you? Non." He finally said, drawing a bit closer, but not enough to scare Germany. "I am not a ghost. At least, I do not think so, Allemagne."

Germany didn't move, but the unsure look on his face remained, unhidden for once, at least until the nation caught himself and shifted his weight from one foot to another. His posture was tense, but not in an aggressive way, but one that suggested that he had yet to decide how to react to this.

"You died." was the simple reply Germany gave "You ceased being alive."

And that was it. France had died. Like a mere human. So there was no possible way for him to be standing here in front of him right now.

It was then France's turn to give an unsure look. So Germany really was there, in the forest. But then, how did he remember six different times in that forest...? France didn't seem to share the same hesitation, though, and he came within a usual talking distance and stopped there.

"I... remember this, oui." His hand instinctively went up to the side of his neck, rubbing it nervously. "You were with me... very briefly, non?"

So it seemed the Rulers had brought him back to life. He supposed they weren't tired of playing with him just yet.

The younger man stiffened when he noticed France reaching for his neck "Ah... You remember... That...?"

He felt a shiver running down his spine and Germany suddenly felt cold despite actually still feeling warm from his earlier workout. Plain feeling uneasy didn't exactly cover his current feeling anymore. Was France out for revenge now? Should be prepare to defend himself? No. It didn't look that way.

Pressing his mouth shut tightly, Germany glanced away, considering what to say, but ended up merely shaking his head "I-... Hn. It seemed like the only reasonable thing to do. I- I didn't know-..." didn't know what? He had no idea how to even finish that sentence. So instead, he closed his eyes "I'm sorry. You were right..."

He didn't make any claim to the contrary, but the words of confirmation - that he did remember Germany's hands around his throat that night - were hard to vocalize. So instead, he simply nodded, eyes averting away from the German soon after Germany looked away. Instead, he glanced towards the scenery. He stayed that way, watching the sunset, even as the silence pressed on.

Germany shouldn't have felt threatened by France. His body language gave no indication that he was tense or aggressive. Just nervous, the way he shifted from foot to foot, the way he kept pulling his hair behind his ear.

"I forgive you, Allemagne. I have forgiven you." Meaning, Germany hadn't needed to apologize to get France's forgiveness. "Mais... what was I right about?" He wasn't sure what Germany meant by that part of it, at least, and so that was what stuck with him.

After another moment of watching the sky shift from glorious pink and orange to a fiery red, he murmured softly almost to himself, but his volume was such that Germany could hear him. "I'm seeing everything differently now, it is almost as if even the sunset is more beautiful than any I remember before."

The dire wolf collects his dues, while the boys sing round the fire

late evening - the park

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