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Post by America on Jul 19, 2012 22:58:53 GMT -5
[[Title makes no sense, shuddup. XP]]
America glanced over at the frozen river, his cheeks coming out in a pout. So much for fishing. He had been looking forward to catching something that the nations could enjoy. Fried fish was always a delicacy, and one would have thought that the river would be full of fish, but America really forgot how cold it was. Of course the river would be frozen. Why was he thinking everything would be nice and warm?
Setting down the fishing gear he had taken without permission (everyone else was busy, so he took matters in his own hands, as usual), America looked over the river. Maybe he could be an Eskimo and fish their way. He'd have to make a hole in the river, but that should be simple enough.
With a glance behind him to make sure no zombies were around, America put one foot on the ice, tapping it to see just how thick it truly was. Luckily, it wasn't frozen solid, but it was a good amount. Stepping back again, he glared at it, sticking his hands in his pockets and wondering why he thought this would be a brilliant idea. |
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Post by England on Jul 19, 2012 23:12:10 GMT -5
England was doing inventory when he noticed that the fishing gear was gone. And his first thought was: "Who in bloody hell decided to go fishing at this time of the year?"
Most of the Nations were scattered off across the warehouse grounds, though, so he couldn't do a role-call to check who was gone. And usually, he wouldn't have cared, but he hadn't been notified of the Nation's departure, and if anything ever happened to that Nation, and he didn't even know he or she'd been out... Things could get ugly.
Irritation coursed through England, and he swore softly as he shut the door to the storage room and headed to the front door to get his gear on, including his trusty gun. It was chilly outside, but he wouldn't be gone long. Just the time to go reprimand the Nation that had left without advising anyone, and then come back to hide away from the cold. With that thought in mind, he opened the door and stepped out, quickly exiting the perimeters, all the while being on the lookout for zombies as he made his way towards the only place the Nation could have gone with fishing equipment- the river.
(Unless he or she had found other uses to fishing equipment, in which case, England wasn't particularly interested to know).
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Post by America on Jul 20, 2012 8:46:57 GMT -5
After a few moments of glaring at the ice, America realized it wasn't going to crack itself. Besides, the longer he stood out here, the colder he would get. And he hated being cold. With a groan, he stepped forward, placing one foot on the ice like before. He was strong enough to smash it through, right? Even if it was just one of his feet, he should still have an immense amount of strength capable of making a hole for him to fish.
That is, if fish could survive weather this cold.
But Eskimos fished like this, and it was always this cold, if not more, when Eskimos fished, so it shouldn't be too difficult.
"Here goes," America breathed. He brought his foot up then slammed it on the ice, wincing when he heard a crack. That better have not been my leg, he thought, pulling back. Nope, it was the ice. So his plan was working after all. He repeated the process twice more before the ice finally cracked. Of course, his entire leg went with the ice and under the freezing cold weather.
Damn it," America growled, pulling his dripping wet leg back towards him. Well this was just peachy. Now he was cold and wet. Fishing didn't seem nearly as enjoyable out here as it did when he had planned it. But since he was out here and since he had cracked the ice well, he might as well try catching a little something before heading back inside. |
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Post by England on Jul 20, 2012 23:12:33 GMT -5
Visibility was clear on that day, so it made it easier for England to spot the trail through the snow that led to the riverbanks. He trudged through the snow, listening to it crunch under his boots and watching out for the telltale sound of moans in the area around him. His grip was tight as always on his gun, because he didn't feel safe if he wasn't constantly ready to attack.
Some part of him yelled at him to stop it before he actually became paranoid, but another part of him encouraged it, saying it was only for self-preservation. And that being so alert and conscious of everything around him would save his life one day.
Caught up in his stealthy movements, he almost didn't realize it when he finally got to the riverbank, and momentarily ducked behind a snow-covered bush to scan his surroundings. He hated being outside on his own, especially when the atmosphere was still and silent like this. He hated the lack of noise, and the lack of company. He hated feeling so isolated and so alone.
Thankfully for his mental stability, a small sound soon reached his ears and he tensed in apprehension. Slowly, he crept out, hand steadily set on the safety switch of his gun, and walked forward. A figure soon emerged from in the trees, fumbling around on the banks of the river, back turned to England.
Who promptly relaxed when he identified the Nation right in front of him, stepping towards him a little more comfortably, and also somewhat confused.
"... America?"
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Post by America on Jul 21, 2012 10:08:33 GMT -5
He had been rifling through the fishing supplies when he heard his name spoken. Already well aware that zombies couldn't speak (and, if they did, he highly doubted they'd have such lovely English accents), he glanced behind him, suspicions confirmed when he laid eyes on England. He wasn't going to say how his sudden appearance did make him a tad bit jumpy. He would pass that off as his usual enthusiasm for everything.
"Good afternoon!" America responded cheerfully, shooting England one of his trademark grins. "It's cold out here, ain't it?" Such an unoriginal thing to state, and fairly obvious, as well, but America wasn't sure what else to say. After all, England was probably searching for the fishing supplies. Which would mean America was sure to get a lecture if he didn't hurry up and explain himself properly.
Pointing at the hole he made, America said, "So I decided that we need some fish, 'cause everyone likes fish and it's real easy to make, but to have fish you have to fish for fish, right? And it's winter so no one wants to do that, but I decided to do it, but the river is frozen over so I made a hole like the Eskimos do!" He laughed, then pointed at his soaking pants leg. "'Course, I nearly fell in when making it, so I'm as wet as one of the fish, but at least I'll get something for us, right?"
So long as he caught something, all would be forgiven. Maybe. Okay, probably not. |
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Post by England on Jul 23, 2012 21:32:31 GMT -5
((I thought I'd replied.... Where the hell did my reply go!?))
England raised a brow at him, obviously unimpressed. He tended to do that a lot with America around, really.
"America, do be kind enough to shut up." he sighed before getting closer. "You're an idiot, going out without telling anyone. What if you'd gotten bitten, or injured, or ambushed? Nobody would know you'd been gone in the first place. Also, you should always take someone with you when you go out, and I've expressedly told everybody to adhere to that rule at all times. And really, what took you to come out in this cold weather? And get yourself wet, at that, too? You're going to get sick, and I'm not going to take care of you." he crossed his arms and looked at him critically for a second, before sighing and taking a step backwards, blushing.
"I wasn't worried about you. But you're still an idiot for going out alone."
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Post by America on Jul 23, 2012 22:05:35 GMT -5
[[Sorry. I was hungry.]]
America raised his eyebrows, though he still looked amused at how worried England was for his safety. It was adorable, yes, but quite unnecessary. After all, he was America! Zombies couldn't catch him, nosiree! "Dude, chill," he said, grabbing his fishing line and attaching the bait to his hook. "Like a zombie would really get me?" He snorted, though he made certain to keep his voice down- despite his confidence, he couldn't help being a tad bit frightened of the undead.
"Okay, maybe I am an idiot, as you already said, like, a thousand times, but I wanted fish." He threw his line into the hole he made and sat down on the bank. He knew the snow would probably soak through his pants, but he was already wet as is, so what was the point of standing. "And, if I catch a cold, I'll get over it in a day. You know me, I'm not sick all that often." He patted the ground next to him with a grin. "Wanna sit with me?" he asked. "We can take turns fishing!" |
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Post by England on Jul 23, 2012 22:20:45 GMT -5
England just looked at him for a moment longer, wondering if being this carefree was even possible. Obliviousness level: America. And then, he remembered that this was America they were talking about, so... there could never be enough innocence. He just wished he could see that innocence again, though, full, pure and bright as day. It would take an idiot not to notice how even America, the most carefree of them all, was cautious and careful, watching out for noise and movement in a desperate attempt to stay alive.
"If I catch a cold because of you, you're going to pay." he finally huffed before plopping down on the snow, resisting the urge to get right back up and swear at the cold that immediately froze his entire lower body. "Just catch a goddamn fish so we can leave already." he mumbled, stuffing his hands into his coat pocket so the cold wouldn't numb them, either. There was a steady ache in his bones, though, caused by the wind, and before he even knew it, he was inching closer, close enough to press his side against America's in an attempt to share body heat.
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Post by America on Jul 24, 2012 15:44:00 GMT -5
"If you catch a cold, I'll be right by your side 'til you heal up!" America said, smiling to himself when England pressed up against him. Despite the chilly weather (okay, freezing weather), he thought this was nice. Just him and England, sitting by the bank and watching...nothing. Staring at nothing. Or at his fishing line. Well, whatever it was they were doing, America still found it to be rather nice. He didn't get many chances to enjoy the fresh air like this, and having England by his side to enjoy the air with him was just amazing.
Humming a little song under his breath, America sat as still as he could, keeping a close eye on the water. "Ya know, I don't think one fish will keep us all fed," he said. "Want me to catch more? If they're biting today, I can probably grab six or seven or eight or nine. Or more." His fishing success usually varied, but he was hoping for a great number of them today. |
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Post by England on Jul 24, 2012 19:00:29 GMT -5
"Catch as many as you can before becoming an icicle. I know I'm personally well on my way there already." England didn't do well with snow. He was alright with cold, as it always rained in his country, but snow was just something he'd never get used to. He mentally bemoaned the fact that the zombie apocalypse had blown out in North America, of all places, and that they'd been stationed in Canada, of all places.
"Just... less talking and more concentrating." he muttered, not knowing what else to say. He liked the silence that seemed to bounce off the glittering mounds of snow around them. And, well, he obviously liked America very much. So just sitting there and sharing the moment (never mind the fact that his butt was freezing) with America sounded very appealing to him.
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Post by America on Jul 24, 2012 20:14:28 GMT -5
"I'm concentrating, I'm concentrating," America replied, taking a hand off the line to tap his head. "Fishing takes a load of concentration, dude, and I totally got that!" Maybe he did. Sometimes he did. He stared at the water, narrowing his eyes to prove that he was indeed concentrating. Except nothing was biting and he was starting to get bored. He bit at his lip, his smile slowly disappearing and his eyelids dropping.
"This was a stupid idea," he finally muttered, now holding the fishing pole between his legs and stuffing his hands in his pocket. "Sorry I made you come out here. 'Cause now we're both cold and the fish aren't biting." He groaned, leaning his head back and looking up at the sky, his breath coming out in short, white puffs. "How do the Eskimos do it?" |
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Post by England on Jul 27, 2012 23:47:11 GMT -5
"Ask your brother." England shrugged absently, not really caring much about anything that wasn't the familiar heat of America's body pressed against his. "And maybe get a few tips before coming out, next time. As much as I like the relatively mild weather, it's not in my list of 'most pleasant outdoor activities' to sit down on bare snow and watch you be an idiot, as usual." he shrugged and wiggled his numb fingers in his pockets.
"It would actually have been nice if you had gotten things biting, but... in this cold, I doubt there are many fish around. Especially since they're probably in deeper during this time of the day." England remarked before shifting a little, the friction sending sparks of warmth through his limbs. "It's alright, though. Food isn't what we lack right now, although a little extra never hurt anybody. Don't fret too much."
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Post by America on Jul 28, 2012 19:13:24 GMT -5
America gave a little 'hmph' to show his displeasure, although he wasn't all too disappointed, especially when England was pressed up like this against him. "Maybe all the fishies are dead." That was a bit worrying. If the fish all died...well, would it really affect the countries too much? They could survive without food, as horrible of a prospect that was. And they were sent supplies, anyway, and there was enough that all of the nations would be comfortable with what was in their stomach.
But the poor fishies.
"If they're dead, they'll never have any baby fishies. What if the entire fish population, like, disappears? Fish is extremely, uh..." Good? Delicious? "Vital." He nodded, acting like he totally knew what he was talking about. "It's vital to our health." Ah, but fish had survived in cold weather before. Otherwise, how would the Eskimos do it? "Screw this, I really should have asked, uh...Canadia for help." And he reeled his fishing line back in, then narrowed his eyes in thought. "Maybe they don't like the bait. You think it's the bait? I think it's the bait. What do Canadians use as bait?" |
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Post by England on Jul 29, 2012 22:34:19 GMT -5
"You talk too much." England groaned, nudging him. "I understand the need to keep moving when you're cold, but do you really have to move your mouth? Couldn't you move another part of your body instead, something would possibly be less annoying?" he grumbled without any real venom, as the cold made him grumpy, but he couldn't really insult America, either.
"Depends on what you're using as bait, really. I know that cold-water fish are partial to squid, but during this time of the day, they've usually eaten enough to last until night. Unless... you have blood-worms. Those work pretty well with any kind of fish. Must be like some kind of treat to them. Although, since it's synthetically-fabricated, we should order some from overseas, because we can't make any here..." he mused out loud. "I'll take care of that. In the meantime, if you're hoping to catch something, you're better off coming out int he early hours of the morning, or late at night. But of course, be very VERY careful, and always bring someone else and weapons with you." he reminded him, especially since America had gone out alone, without taking anyone with him, either.
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Post by America on Jul 30, 2012 8:37:54 GMT -5
America fell silent, listening to everything that England told him, before choosing a blood-warm, as England had stated, and attaching it to the hook. "Once more," he said, throwing the line back in the water. "I wanna try once more to get something." And, while waiting, he figured he could do with some more talking. "I used to fish back in my states all the time. Even when it got cold. 'Course, that would be down in the more southern states, since it doesn't get as cold there." He grinned. "Always caught something then. Maybe I'll get lucky and catch something now."
He hummed happily, nudging England just as the elder had done to him minutes before. "I got weapons with me this time," he pointed out. "And I didn't need anyone. I'm cool on my own. What, you really think a zombie could get me?" |
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