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graveyard part 3
 You wake up in an unfamiliar cabin. At first, it almost seems like you're in an entirely different place and that everything had been just a dream. The interior of the cabin looks nothing like the run-down, old-timey shacks that you had been living in before. Everything in here is sleek and modern, from the enormous flat-screen TV mounted on the wall to the fridge and mini-bars stocked with all your favorite foods. There aren't any individual rooms in here, just a common area large enough to house everyone comfortably, no matter how many more people join you...and there will be plenty more people joining you before the week is over. Because if you look outside the window, it quickly becomes clear that not only are you still in Prayer's Pass, but that you are no longer among the realm of the living. Judging from the tombstones directly outside, you're now in what had been the abandoned broken-down cabin in the graveyard. The cabin's not all that changed; the world outside has gone completely grey and everything you see appears to be faded and blurry. The only things that remain sharp and in color are what's inside the cabin, including your fellow ghosts. Occasionally, people who are still alive may enter, but it's clear that what they're seeing is completely different from what you're seeing. The door's unlocked; however, a mysterious force prevents you from stepping beyond the threshold, no matter how hard you may try. After all, this cabin is a cage for the dead - a gilded one, perhaps, but a cage nonetheless. On the flat-screen TV plays everything that is currently happening in the town. It will shut off once night starts...and something else will appear instead. |
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You don't know anything. All of us chose to play. All of us. That should tell you that what we're fighting for is important.
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I can probably guess what it is. Well, good luck.
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We're not the bad guys here. [It's something that Poland's said more than once that he now finds himself repeating, both to America and himself. Maybe if they hear it enough times, one of them will start to believe it.]
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[He doesn't even say it as an accusation but as a question. He wants to be wrong. But England...how England acted...it seems stupid to think he faked everything just for his own benefit, but it also feels stupid to think he was really willing to die for America. He wasn't even willing to lower taxes for America. Every time he's thought their relationship was something more important than England's self-interest and drive for power, he's been proven wrong.
He knows he also puts himself first, but it's different, because he's a good guy, and England has often not been a good guy at all.]
I want to believe you, but if your goal is just for the hunters to win, this whole time everything I've done played into your hand. And if you're going to say you'd never manipulate me like that, don't bullshit me. We both know you've done it before.
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[He steps in, hoping he can prevent a brawl since America seems to listen to him.]
England is right. Everyone chose to be a Hunter, including me. And there is a reason for it. But it is not one we are permitted to divulge under any circumstance. If we do, the past ten days will have been for absolutely nothing. Please, understand.
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[He means it - he thinks he trusts Bruce, but he doesn't really know him, not really.
For America this has become about more than just what the hunters want. He's now spent the past week trusting England more than he's allowed himself to in over 200 years. It doesn't matter what anyone else did; he's terrified at the idea that he was wrong, that he was too trusting, when fear of being taken advantage of has guided how he approaches him for centuries now.
It doesn't make sense, but he doesn't want to believe otherwise if he could be wrong.]
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Ta, Bruce. You're a mate, but America's right - this is between me and him.
[He tilts his head back in America's direction.] I did manipulate you so the hunters could win, but you knew that. You've known ever since you saved Ukyo. That was the only trick I tried to pull with you, though. As for the reason...I can't tell you that, but I can say that I never lied to you unless the rules forced me to.
And if you're wondering about how much you should trust me and how much I trust you...[He can't tell America about the hunters' incentives, but there is still one thing he's been trying to hide for the sake of pride and even a little fear. He makes a beckoning motion with his hand.] Come here for a moment.
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[He considers saying that England should come to him, but he isn't angry except by force of habit. Instead, he gets up and walks over the where he is.]
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[His voice is low, his gaze fixed straight ahead of him.]
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[But he does it and then frowns.]
Your eyes are weird...
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Figure it out for yourself. And then ask me again how much I trust you.
[His tone and face are even, but his heart is beating fast. Dead or not, this is the most vulnerable he's ever been. He hadn't really thought about what he'd been giving up beyond wanting to unlock a clue and thinking that his sight wasn't going to do him much good as a ghost, but he's starting to wish he'd followed Poland's example and simply chopped off a limb. Without his sight, he can't tell when an attack's coming or defend himself at all, and while he realizes that there likely wasn't going to be much danger in this cabin, it still terrifies him to know that anything could happen and he wouldn't be prepared for it at all. Two thousand years as a country and for the first time, he feels completely helpless.
It's not that he thinks America will take advantage of his blindness, but even just him knowing how weak England is right now scares him...and is the surest way he can think of to prove that whatever lies he may have said, the emotions and intentions behind them were genuine. Even if everyone else in the cabin knew already and America would have likely figured it out eventually, this was his choice to put such sensitive information in his hands. Their relationship had always been fraught with power struggles, from America fighting for his independence to England struggling to stay on equal footing despite his decline. So here he is, voluntarily admitting that right now, America held all the power between them and that England can't stop him from doing whatever he liked. He can only hope the other country gets the message.]
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I don't - I don't get it...how did this even happen? Is it because...because of how you got shot?
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Also, my poems are not crap, you tasteless illiterate gorm.
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[And then quietly:] Besides, it wasn't the poems that I was concerned about. If I could unlock something that could help everyone left get out alive...then whatever I gave up didn't matter.
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[He sounds angry, but it isn't about not trusting England anymore; he's just upset that this is happening. But even so, he recognizes that England is trying to tell him something important.]
I...I mean...I was glad that you did that, I was really happy you were still alive. But you could've done something less stupid. You could've given up your eyebrows or liking tea or the queen.
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[He reaches up to ruffle America's hair, misses, and winds up awkwardly patting his shoulder instead.] Anyway, it's not so bad. This cabin is small enough that I can manoeuvre around easily, and it's not like I'm missing out on much not being able to see what's going on onscreen. It's really the same as listening to the radio.
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check plurk
I wish you could just tell me why you want the hunters to win. We're not even playing. And it bothers me.
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I...I don't know why it's like this. This morning if you'd said I could talk to you again, I...I would've said different stuff.
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[He immediately looks embarrassed and sort of annoyed, not that England can tell. But it probably comes through in his voice.]
Dumb stuff. I don't remember. You can't expect things to be like before when you're not even going to die.
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