✤ twenty three; (hold your breath through late-breaking disasters)

[windmill]

[The heat is gone.

When he wakes up, he gives a strangled choking sound and half-throws himself out of bed, convinced that he is still on fire, that he is still burning alive, that his skin is peeling open raw and pink and then black and he's burning, burning, burning- he clutches at his arms and head and he can still feel it consuming his very

Comments

filtered;

[supersizedpower]

I'm okay.

We almost got there. Just a little more.

filtered;

[windmill]

At least we know now she's...

[he rubs a hand down his forehead to his mouth, and mumbles against it.] How did he know?

filtered;

[supersizedpower]

That's what he does.

I didn't think he'd...just thought we'd get droned. Must've touched a nerve.

filtered;

[windmill]

Means we did something right.

[Action]

[wafels]

*She hears his voice, even lying where she is, curled up on the couch in her living room - and in a heartbeat she's stood up, almost paralyzed by the realization that it IS her brother speaking, and...

...in the next moment she's going to dash out of the house and pretty much sprint all the way over to where her brother lives.

And then pound on the door.*

[windmill]

[He doesn't know who it could be, and doesn't get up to answer the pounding knocks right away. It's a full five minutes or so before he tucks his lighter away, clamps his cigarette between his teeth, and goes to see who it is.

Upon opening the door, he just stands there and stares at her dully.]

[wafels]

*It's her brother. He's alive. Belgium just stares, a range of emotions flitting across her face - shock, hope, grief - and then her cheeks flush with anger.

She steps forward, balling her hand into a fist and throwing a punch at his jaw as hard as she possibly can*

G-godverdomme idioot! *She sounds pretty choked up*

[windmill]

[He could block it more than easily, could catch her fist and throw her, could lock that punch before it gets him, but he doesn't choose to stop her.

His head snaps back and his back slams into the doorframe. The dull, almost emotionless look does not go away.]

akshun

[bornwithskison]

[No the back door did not just get ripped from its hinges by a troll. No that is not a certain angry neighbor stomping inside, ignoring a droned Taiwan as those footsteps head up the stairs.]

[windmill]

[This is the second time your troll has caused property damage to his home. I hope you know he's keeping track of all of this with interest added.

The sound of the door breaking gives him an indication as to who it might be, but he doesn't get up to check.]

[bornwithskison]

[Fuck yo interest he'll pay it off with booze. Besides, our troll only helps when your stupid doors don't open.

There goes the bathroom door. Nothing.

Guest room? Nothing.

He stops in front of the master bedroom.]

[windmill]

[You'll find him in there smoking on the bed, looking out of the window.]

[windmill]

[Eighteen times! Have some pissed-off sounding Netherlands.]

The hell is this?

[windmill]

...Denmark.

[not even going to argue the beer thing or ask why he owes him one. he... sounds almost relieved to hear Denmark's voice.]

[is_an_island]

[knocking]

[windmill]

[it takes him several minutes, but he answers- only after ensuring that it is England by looking out of the window.]

Hoi.

[is_an_island]

Nice phone call.

Let me in.

[windmill]

I don't need that right now.

[he moves aside to let England in.]