Raproachment 3a/7
anonymous
October 7 2011, 03:04:10 UTC
The largest island of the western chain had been named 'New York', after some ruins or other that the humans had found upon the peaks, and as a nod to the ancestry of one of the leaders of the settlement. Matthew wasn't certain exactly what it was, but there was some rumor about an old Nation, long gone
( ... )
Raproachment 3b/7
anonymous
October 7 2011, 03:10:59 UTC
“We'll take you there.” Matthew said firmly. Perhaps these islands were not to belong to Canada after all. Perhaps it was to Spain, as Ireland was female. He only hoped it would not be Russia. “You don't need to cry. Even if you're not going to be my little brother, I'll help you.”
“Matthew, are you sure?”
“We'll take you there, New York.”
“That's not my name-” The boy jumped down out of the tree easily, landing with the clumsy grace of a teenaged boy. He was taller than Matthew had expected, but still-- the eager expression in those large blue eyes made him reach out a hand. Perhaps the boy would accept his guidance. Would choose him.
“Then what is your name?”
“Thanks, Mattie.” A hint of familiarity at the nickname, just a flicker, and whatever it was was lost in the rush of twelve year old energy running towards the newly built docks. “My name is Alfred.”
Re: Raproachment 5/7
anonymous
October 11 2011, 16:14:15 UTC
Avalon lay before them, shrouded in fog.
It seemed that the only way to get to this island was by boat-- helicopter pilots were refusing to attempt a landing in the high winds, and there was no runway on this island. So they were forced into traveling by one of the small ships that ferried some of the more hard to come by supplies to the islanders. Not that Canada minded. Matthew actually rather enjoyed the feel of the waves rocking the craft--- and from the look on France's face, so did he.
In fact, aside from Russia's slight discomfort, and Ireland's nervous humming, the only one who wasn't taking well at all to the voyage was the cause of it.
Alfred was curled up on himself near the wheelhouse, looking pale, frightened, and ill.
At first, Matthew had been concerned that it was some after-effects of the earthquake that had ripped through his main island such a short time ago-- but the locals had convinced him that any damage was minor, and commonplace. It was just the ocean.
“I don't like the sea...” The colony had held
( ... )
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“Matthew, are you sure?”
“We'll take you there, New York.”
“That's not my name-” The boy jumped down out of the tree easily, landing with the clumsy grace of a teenaged boy. He was taller than Matthew had expected, but still-- the eager expression in those large blue eyes made him reach out a hand. Perhaps the boy would accept his guidance. Would choose him.
“Then what is your name?”
“Thanks, Mattie.” A hint of familiarity at the nickname, just a flicker, and whatever it was was lost in the rush of twelve year old energy running towards the newly built docks. “My name is Alfred.”
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
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It seemed that the only way to get to this island was by boat-- helicopter pilots were refusing to attempt a landing in the high winds, and there was no runway on this island. So they were forced into traveling by one of the small ships that ferried some of the more hard to come by supplies to the islanders. Not that Canada minded. Matthew actually rather enjoyed the feel of the waves rocking the craft--- and from the look on France's face, so did he.
In fact, aside from Russia's slight discomfort, and Ireland's nervous humming, the only one who wasn't taking well at all to the voyage was the cause of it.
Alfred was curled up on himself near the wheelhouse, looking pale, frightened, and ill.
At first, Matthew had been concerned that it was some after-effects of the earthquake that had ripped through his main island such a short time ago-- but the locals had convinced him that any damage was minor, and commonplace. It was just the ocean.
“I don't like the sea...” The colony had held ( ... )
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