♬ 001 { accidental video }

[leavemariaalone]

[He's woken up in Salkia Park, just as injured and bruised as he was after the war, granted his wounds have been dressed with the exceptions for the scrapes and splotches on his face. Amidst all the layers he's wearing, he's yet to notice that he's sitting on a strange, not-18th-century object that has turned on and is taping the grass, hello grass, nice to meet you.]

--on Earth am I?

[He shifts around, moving to get up but lord he is much too tired to do it right the first two times, groaning when he tries.] This is ridiculous! That pompous idiot couldn't have done that much damage! [Frustrated, he at least pushes himself up, switching to sitting on his knees--ow, bad idea, the thighs, they aches--and leaning forward against a bench. Now the video can see this, his bent back and heavy breathing.]

Ngh...that wheelchair wouldn't be too terrible of an idea right about now. [Now he looks back, just to take in his surroundings, when he notices the LP. He reaches for it, grimacing as he does, and lifts it from the ground, staring at it all puzzled-like.]

Such an odd object...one of England's, perhaps. [His eyes flick to the corner, and his brows furrow together tighter.] A key? I've never seen one like it... [He makes to put it gently on the bench, but moves too fast, ouch war wounds, and drops it on the wood instead, ending the transmission.]

Comments

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

S'pose so, you Europeans were always fighting each other anyway. [Pokes him.] What's your key say? We can patch you up at your place.

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

[He huffs haughtily.] You have certain morons to thank for that. [Ow, poking. He perks a bit, glances back at Australia, and plucks the key from his LP.] My 'place'? You mean to inform me that I've quartering in this odd land? [And things just keep getting worse, but if it's free he supposes he can't complain.]

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

Dunno 'bout quartering, mate, but they shoulda given you a place to have a kip. This Salkia sheila, sounds like she's at least trying to be nice. She's really bad at it, but points for trying!

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

[...He will never understand how English can be so strange, and that confusion is evident on his face.] A what? A kip, a sheila, what on earth are you going on about? [And here he thought Prussia was odd with that 'awesome' word...]

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

[Calling this "English" might be a stretch.] A place to sleep, Rod. And the name of this place is Salkia, se- America says she's a little girl. Haven't seen her myself yet.

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

A young girl...? A colony, perhaps? [He does find it odd the way America is being talked about, but perhaps he's thinking too far into it.] No matter, we'll deal with that later. Are you going to assist me or not?

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

No one owns her yet. And yeah, yeah, it's why I came. Can you walk?

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

[That 'yet' brings a displeased expression to his face, but he doesn't comment.] ...In some instances, yes. I would appreciate it if you would help me stand, for starters.

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

[If it helps, if Australia gets his hands on her he'll just spoil her rotten and then help her get independent before when she's ready and then shower her in aid.]

Come on then, upsa-daisy. [Wraps an arm around Austria, moves Austria's arm around Aussie's shoulder and then lifts.]

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

[Overseas parenting, what is this. But that's friggin adorable dalfds]

Upsa--? [And he wobbles, instinctively clenching his fist around Aussie's clothes. Ow ow ow, stupid Prussia.] Is that some...term of yours?

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

Can't remember if Pommie says it too, but yeah. [Tries to hold Austria steady.] Easy now, mate, we're not in any rush.

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

O-of course we're not! [He huffs and slowly releases him, but he's still as tense as he ever was. Which one was the better leg? Right, it was the left, maybe, so he'll be leaning on that one. Either way, it hurts, and he grimaces.] Ah--the key. [Glancing behind him, it's still attached to the LP, which is still on the bench. Fuck his life.]

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

Where is- oh, fucking hell. One tick, mate, try and hold yourself up and I'll grab it.

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

[Really, those words weren't makng any sense to him, but by the tone he assumed they were just about as vulgar as whatever England's pirates might say. Not that he'd met any, personally, he'd like to avoid that.] Hmph. [And so he removes himself from Australia, wibbling and wobbling before he found a semi-steady stance. Imagine the court, Austria, no one would near pleased to see you like this.]

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

[Man, Aus wishes he was cool enough to have pirates. Instead he just got starving Irishmen who were unlucky enough to get caught stealing bread. Still just as vulgar though. Anyway, he grabs the key and 1337pod once he's able to move without pushing Austria around and immediately reaches out to steady the European again and smile encouragingly.] Right, mate?

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

[It's been quite a while since he's been helped out like this. Hungary would just carry him and not let him leave bed. Whoever this Australia man was, it was pleasant to have him there.] I've no idea what that's intended to mean, but if you meant to ask if I'm alright, then yes.

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

S'what I meant, mate. Come on, let's get going. [And let's try staying upright and moving forward at the same time, Austria! You can do it!]

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

[Oh, physical labor, what art thou?] Yes, let's... [And oomph, trudging forward now, ] Now, where exactly are we going? Do you have a map?

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

There's one on the phone thing, but I don't need it, I know where we're headed. [Checking out Austria's key.] Aw, you lucky bugger, you've got a house!

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

Phone...thing? [He shakes his head, it must be some more of that unfamiliar lingo.] A house? Is that particularly special? [And it better have a cane, if he's going to have to stay here more than he intends.]

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

I've just got a flat, the houses look cooler. Pom's moved into one too!

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

Is that the best this Salkia child can offer? [He huffs, but he shouldn't have expected anything remotely Rococo-y from a child, after all.]

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

She's just a kid, give the poor sheila a break. We just need to find her, sort her out, and you can go back to Vienna or wherever.

[leavemariaalone.livejournal.com]

She's apparently well equipped with an ability to gather us here without revealing herself, the absolute least she could do is provide with proper lodgings. [Ow, too much talking, he'll stop that now. He nods, grinding his teeth together as he stumbles along. Breathe, Austria, breathe.]

[withgoldensoil.livejournal.com]

Still not sure how she pulled that off. Oi, you get a house, no complaining. I hate being cooped up. [Don't worry, Austria, we're nearing the place with the houses and stuff like that, you can lie down soon.]