rakuen | Backdated to IC Tuesday

Entry tags:

Backdated to IC Tuesday

Characters: Britannia and yooou~
Format: Action or prose!
This log is: open
Location: Fortitude Campus.
Summary: Having woken up with some fresh new memories and injuries to match, Britannia tries to make it to where her boss is but is having a pretty hard time of it.
Warnings: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANGST

When Britannia had opened her eyes on Tuesday morning, she had expected to find tall ceilings, elegant furnishings and the barest hint of light peeking through her curtains. She had expected to find herself in her room back at home.

What she got instead were simple furnishings and agony. Her body beat with the burning sensation and it nearly made her pass out from the sheer intensity of it all. Choking back a surprised shriek of pain and breaking the skin on her bottom lip in the process, her hand immediately went to her chest where the pain originated from as her brain tried to sort through the sudden confusion that was her memories.

'This is... home? No, Rakuen. But I was just- memory games. FLEIJA.' As her mind registered that one word, she unintentionally bit down hard enough that a drop or two of blood slipped down onto her pillow.

And then she remembered- Schneizel had unleashed FLEIJA on her heart, on her capital city whose name she couldn't bloody remember because of this damned place. She would never forget the agony of a part of her being seared off the face of the Earth. The burn on her hand from the Tokyo Settlement fiasco had seen to that.

Still, she could hardly stay here in her current state. Weak and vulnerable, it would be easy for her to become prey to someone else- anyone else and that thought terrified her more than any other. She needed to call the only person who could protect her in this situation. (God help her.)

With a low curse, she fumbled through distant memories for where she'd left her PDA and finally remembered- drawer on the night table. With a soft hiss, she stretched for it and nearly cried at the effort it demanded of her. Slowly, easing her way towards the table, she finally grabbed the knob and yanked, groping blindly for her phone within. Once she had it, she hit the speed dial, knowing it would at least save her some time.

That is, of course, provided Lelouch even answered. It was then, as she was rewarded with his voicemail, that she noticed the time.

6:23am.

She would have to go in person.

"Damn you." She swore softly, breathing through gritted teeth as she slowly forced herself out of bed, head spinning as every beat of her heart sent another dizzying wave of pain down her spine. Somehow, she wasn't exactly sure how, she managed to pull on a pair of pants and her shoes. Her shirt, a plain white tee, was too much effort she immediately decided and it was left alone. Appearance thus satisfactory (though appalling to her normal standards) she quietly shuffled out of her room, one hand clutching her phone and the other held to her chest like it could stifle the pain.

If asked how she had managed the walk between the dorms, Britannia would never have been able to answer. All she knew was that it was one slow step after the other, forced onward by the simple drive to get somewhere safer. Still, there was only so far she could go on willpower alone.

As she came to the recreational building, she finally had to stop as her legs threatened to give out on her. Her body was shaking all over and her breathing was coming hard. Leaning against the side of the campus building, Britannia took a deep breath and tightened her fist over her chest, cursing the way it drained her of energy with every painful throb. When she finally drew her hand away, she was completely unsurprised to see the spots of blood that dotted her fingers. Of course she was bleeding, Schneizel had essentially taken a canon to her body and set it off. Ruthless and cruel, everything Ricardo would have ever wanted. Her first Emperor would be proud.

When she checked her phone again, the clock mocked her with a cheerful 7:05. It had taken her over half an hour to get out of Black Dorm and to here. Barely halfway and her body refused to go any further.

It was pathetic and it was weak.

"... dammit." She hissed, slumping down against the wall.

[ooc: tl;dr she's hurt and leaning against building 4 on the settings map.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And for perhaps the first time in decades, Britannia felt her jaw drop in sheer speechlessness. It wasn't so much as his matter-of-fact manner, it was simply the proposal that he was suggesting she die. The one thing that was considered the epitome of weakness in her society. Even if it wasn't permanent, the mere thought of dying made her stomach churn uncomfortably, overwhelming the pain in her chest for a brief moment.

Worse, he was the only human being in existence who probably could kill her. Granted, she had never heard of a boss actually killing a nation, but if there was one non!nation in the world capable of it, it would be him. (And lets face it, Lelouch was one of a kind.)

When her lungs finally had enough air in them for her to speak, she got out a breathy but firm (and slightly shrill): "No."

"You would prefer prolonged weakness and vulnerability to an impossibly brief death? I know you're bleeding, Lady Britannia. You're in more pain than you have ever known in your life. Britannia has never suffered so great a blow in its life than that.

"The longer we remain here, the more likely it is for others to see you in this state. As we get closer to the start of class for the day, more and more students will wake up. And should Nanami find you, she won't give you the option. She views killing a student as an efficient solution to a student trespassing from their campus, or merely being a pest. Proud, strong, empire, or otherwise.

"Would you prefer to be killed by your Emperor, or by a stranger, a Japanese stranger?" Even without the Geass his words were dangerous. But even he wasn't so sure why he was so focused on shooting her. Maybe he saw it as another aspect of his revenge. But he didn't need to consider that now.

His words stung and it showed as she narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. She was weak right now, pathetically so and perhaps what Lelouch was suggesting would fix the problem, yet even still...

Taxed with her fear and anxiety, her heart gave another spasm of pain and she doubled over, not quite able to completely stifle the small cry of agony. Something that made her feel regret and embarrassment. No one should ever be able to see her weak, not even her boss. But what he was suggesting... it went against everything she knew. Everything she stood for. Even if the voices of her people had taken on a strange tone since Lelouch's ascension (something she attributed to his overzealous use of the geass) that part of her remained strong.

Survival was the most important thing, and using death as a way out was unforgivable.

"I said no." She repeated, softly but just as firmly. Raising her eyes so that her gaze met his, she gave him a searing look for a moment before shaking her head. "I came to you for protection but if that's your solution, then I'll find another way. I cannot die."

Edited 2012-06-06 09:36 (UTC)

He didn't seem to react to her decision or her glares at all. Instead, his bored, cold expression never faltered. He met her eyes for a long moment. How easy that could have been. But no, his Geass was locked away from him.

After a long, tense, silent moment, his arm went back behind his back, under the vest. "Very well." When his hand came back into view, it was empty. "What do you propose I do? I can't very well hide you in my bedroom."

With the gun gone, Britannia relaxed against the wall and swallowed a breath of relief she didn't want Lelouch hearing. As her boss- as one of Ricardo's, she hadn't expected him to listen to her. That he had she could only attest to the fact that he had other plans in place already. Lelouch was terrifyingly brilliant that way.

Tired and exhausted from the whole affair, her voice was dry when she spoke again, containing none of her usual humor. "Why not?"

He crouched again, coming back down to her level. "The prefect's dormitory isn't meant to be accessed by students except by special invitation." He recalled what had led to Nanami's invitation and the negotiations that had followed. He thought through what he knew of Nanami's routine. If she was feeling especially sickly, she wouldn't even leave her bed. Yuri and the others would be easy enough to manage.

As he considered, he reached his hand out toward where she clutched her chest. "Let me see where the blood is coming from." He didn't really consider that a thing like feminine modesty would apply to someone like a personified country. His fingers lightly brushed on the back of her hand. The same hand that had just held a gun against her.

For a moment Britannia hesitated. Not because of modesty, she hadn't had such feminine concerns since she had given up her identity as a female in the 19th century, but if only because she didn't want to show the source of her weakness. Still, the feeling passed after a moment and she finally let her hand fall away. Her shirt, now speckled with dots of bright red that were her blood, was otherwise clean and undamaged save for the wrinkling done by her grip.

Underneath, however, was a different story. Across her chest over her heart, roughly 6-7 inches in length, was a large, angry scar that stood out in stark contrast to the rest of her skin. The veins around it were swollen and vivid, as if her blood had been poisoned in that one area, making it obvious that the wound was recent and going nowhere. The blood itself, smeared in bits by her shirt, came from the scar in small drops despite its size, indicating it was nothing more than a byproduct of an almost sealed wound.

The damage beneath her skin was most likely an entirely different story, but for now it certainly wasn't life threatening.

He wasn't sure if he expected that, or what he expected, really. He knew enough to decide that if it wasn't for he unique circumstances, he would be halfway through cooking breakfast and none of this would have happened. But he finally made a decision. He couldn't leave her here. It was a risk he would have to.take. "I'll take you to my room if you feel you'd be better after some more sleep."

For a moment she debated the truth, of telling him that she simply didn't want to be alone in a place where she could be attacked. Of reminding him that, while their numbers were dwindling, there were still other nations here. Her "other self" sotospeak was her greatest fear. Manchild or not, he was still a country and even he would know how to seize an opportunity.

Still, she felt as if she had exposed enough of herself for today and instead nodded. Sleep, if possible, would be wonderful right about now. That decided, she reached up, clearly needing a hand to rise.

He stood back up and took her hand to pull her up. "Should I be flattered that you have come to me in your hour of need?" There was a light note of teasing there, but he helped her all the same. He wondered if the others that called themselves nations were posing an active threat or if she were being cautious. He would deal with them in turn, all the same.

At Lelouch's remark, Britannia gave him a strange look, even as she used her other hand to push off the wall and nearly stumbled straight into him. Bracing herself on the slender young man, there was a moment when their bodies were uncomfortably close as she made sure of her footing. Once she had that, she carefully stepped back from him and returned her hand to the place over her chest. Both to steady her heart and hide the stain.

With that settled, she looked right at him, then gave him a very "duh" kind of look. "You're my boss. You're the only person I'll ever ask for help from."

Edited 2012-06-06 21:48 (UTC)

He didn't mind her pressing on him, and if she needed the support, he was willing to provide it. In more ways than one, he supposed. Seeing this side of her was new, and he hadn't had time to consider why he was reacting the way he was. "Lean on me if you have to," he told her.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" She asked, voice meant to be teasing. Instead it came out with a low quality of sincere curiosity as she placed her arm over his shoulders and distributed her weight a little more evenly. "I may no longer be an empire, but I'm still a nation."

He wrapped an arm around her waist to help support her. "Of course I can." She was a bit taller, but he could manage that. "I could be wrong, but you might be a bit closer to human right now," he replied.

And thusly supported, she began to walk in slow steps. Though she tried her best to carry her own weight, from time to time she ended up leaning more on Lelouch anyway, if only to keep from falling on legs that no longer seemed to want to work properly.

His remark evoked feelings of confusion in her. Though the initial response was disdain, she did admit that it didn't seem like he had made that comment out spite or with intent to insult her. So... what then?

"... is that a good thing?" She finally asked, unable to work it out on her own.

"I assure you it wasn't intended as an insult. Some humanity might be beneficial to you." He kept pace alongside her. It was fortunate that she was still on Fortitude's campus, or he probably wouldn't be able to do the heavy lifting she seemed to need.

When the Prefect's dormitory came in sight, he stopped at a tree. "I will make sure the hallway is clear. If someone comes, tell them to look for me. Pretend you have yet to find me." Any friendly tone he'd taken with her had faded. Back to business.

Rather than respond with words, Britannia chose instead to give a non-committal "Hmm." instead. The thought that being humane might benefit her was a new one. Previously she had been inclined to think that thoughts of kindness and mercy were pointless. Only the strong should survive and those too weak to do so didn't deserve any kind of sympathy.

Had she been in better condition, she would have realized right away why she was suddenly having different opinions. It was because of a shift in rulers, from Charles's strict Darwin-esque approach to life to Lelouch's... whatever mandate he was trying to proclaim.

With a sigh, she obediently transffered her weight from Lelouch over to the tree, leaning against it a touch too quickly and resulting in a pained wince. As he relayed instructions to her, she simply nodded.

"Yes, your majesty." She mumbled, the habitual phrase slipping out of her lips.

He hurried into the Prefect's dorm, and strode around the hallways, to ensure that no one was out and about. After ensuring that the coast was clear by listening in hallways for any signs of imminent departure by their occupants, he came back outside. "You need to move as quickly as you can. This window won't last long," he told her, getting under her arm again.

As soon as Lelouch departed, she felt a surprising amount of uneasiness at being left alone again. Yes, she was concerned about being attacked while she was so vulnerable, but not enough to feel this anxious. So what then, she wondered, was the problem?

Then, after a moment, she finally recognized the desolate feeling. It was the same as back when Lelouch had returned all the areas to their former names. When all those nations she had conquered were free to leave her house and return to their own. That first night and every night after until she had moved into the palace had been... quiet.

'So that would make this... loneliness? Or abandonment?' She wondered in her head, unable to prevent the humorless smile that curled her lips. 'How childish.'

Fortunately, before she could stew in her thoughts for much longer, Lelouch returned telling her to hurry. "Alright." Britannia answered quickly enough, leaning on him again and doing her best to move quickly. If only because the fresh surge of pain helped her to not think.

By some miracle, they achieved their goal. Up the stairs they went. After a quick detour that shoved them both into a cramped broom closet on the second story, he led her into his bedroom and right over to his bed. He was clearly out of breath by then. She was a heavy load to carry.

He pulled a second set of pajamas out of his dresser and set them within reach for her. They were just your traditional two-piece set, not the ludicrous affairs the royals usually put their children in. He turned a chair in the room around so its back faced her before he finally dropped into it. "Change if you like. It would be more comfortable," he finally told her.

Of this entire adventure, Britannia would have to say that the time spent in the broom closet was probably the most uncomfortable. If only because her boss had so many pointy angles and all of them seemed to find their way to her chest or stomach. Still, the fact that he was doing this wasn't missed. As much as she whined or complained about Ricardo and his descendants, it could also be said that never once had they failed to help her when her existence was endangered. Impure motives or not, it was the actions that meant the most.

The pajamas, however, were the unexpected part. That was a step made not out of necessity and it had her flustered for a moment, wondering exactly how to react. The longer she thought about it, the more she began to have that same confused feeling she'd had when playing soccer with Spain. A pleasant feeling that she couldn't identify the source of. Like then, she quickly decided that dwelling on such thoughts were unhealthy and banished them to the recesses of her mind.

As for the pajamas... he had a point. It would be more comfortable and she could change out of her sweat soaked clothes. If getting to the facilities building had been hard, then getting into the Prefects' HQ had been hell and it showed on her strained and pale face as she reached up and tried to pull her shirt over her head.

From now on, button up shirts only. She thought miserably as her body instantly protested, causing her to curse softly and curl up on herself.

And behind all the pain and exhaustion- anger. She hated being this weak and it was even more frustrating to know there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

"Do you have bandages?" She finally gasped out after a moment. Anything to keep him from turning and seeing the state she was in. "I don't want to... bleed on a new set of clothes."

He nodded. "Yes, just a moment." He got up and went to fetch them. Knowing his own track record, he was certain to have some nearby should he ever have to lick his own wounds.

He was gone for only about a minute, and he returned with a plethora of supplies in a plastic box. "May I?" he asked, as he set it down on the bed and opened it. He didn't seem to expect her to refuse. "I think you might pass out if you strain yourself any further."

Opening her mouth to sharply reply that she wasn't that fragile, Britannia drew the breath to speak- and immediately shut her mouth again.

Fragile was exactly what she was at that moment and to deny that would only make herself seem more pathetic. So, with an aggravated whistle of exhaled air through gritted teeth, she fell quiet and let Lelouch take care of her.

Her concession was close enough to permission, and he set to work. He clearly knew a few things about dressing wounds, having been forced to take care of more than a few of his own. His fingers were gentle and sure, and applied no more pressure to delicate, bruised areas than was necessary.

He made quick work of it all, depositing the gauze wrappers and other sundries in the trash when he was done. He left the case on the side table, should it be needed again. Without a word, he picked up the pajama shirt, and held it up to help her into it. He wasn't giving her the option of refusing his help without looking petulant.

When she was younger, she used to consider the skill of first-aid a weak thing to know/do. After all, it was only necessary for people weak enough to get injured in the first place, wasn't it? It hadn't occurred to her until she was older that medical care was just another way of survival. If your own body had not provided you with the means to succeed, then making your own methods was simply that much more admirable.

It was a feeling she was coming to appreciate more and more these days, undoubtedly because of her boss- Lelouch and his retinue. While she still didn't care much for CC, she could at least appreciate the others who were extraordinary human beings. Even if what they were striving for was ultimately their own destruction.

When the dressing was done, she just as wordlessly slid her arms into the sleeves, wincing slightly but otherwise managing the task. All the while debating a note of gratefulness. Did this man who was weakening her deserve it? Did she?

Backdated to IC Tuesday

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!

Re: action!