October 9th, Sunday. 6:12 AM.
Scotland was reading the "Isles' Post", an Irish newspaper that covers controversy with the British crown, political unrest, etc. He mainly reads it to be reminded that other people hate his father as well.
The paper crinkled in his bandaged hands as he looked over the ink writing. It was early morning, Fireburst was asleep in his cage, the lights were dim, and it was just Scotland in this silence. Alone time had been difficult to get ever since the EU insisted that he had another person with him 24/7. So, Scotland had been waking up before England to get some quiet time to himself.
There was a sense of peace. Scotland wasn't stressed, his mind wasn't going to the past, he was staying in the present, the quiet, calm present. Reading the news with a cup of coffee and in a positive mood. Sadly, you just can't have humble things.
Just as he wondered if he should wake up his sister, she popped up on the couch right next to him.
As Scotland turned his head to the right, he greeted in a way as, "Madainn mhath- And you have a knife."
"Hand them over," England commanded seriously, holding the dagger in a threatening way. Scotland looked at the blade with no amusement, "Why."
"I know that you have them on you, just give them to me," She wasn't explaining herself, of course. With a sigh, the Scot reached into his pocket and handed over the switchblade that practically never leaves the area.
"I know you have more," England stated as she grabbed the self-defense weapon. Scotland rolled his eyes and grabbed his satchel that was placed beside him earlier. Until it was handed to his sibling.
"There, happy?" Scotland spat out with annoyance. His peaceful atmosphere was ruined.
England glared at him, "Just hand them all over." This was a mugging, an unjust theft of his possessions at knife point.
A few moments later.
With an annoyed groan, Scotland took off his rings and put them in England's open hand. Fireburst had woken up due to Kaleidoscope being an obnoxious little idiot. And now he was wanting out of his cage.
England inspected the items in her possession now, possibly counting them. There was one switchblade, two pocket knives, six enchanted items, seven other forms of sharp steel, and who knows what else was in that bottomless satchel. "This is a bit excessive, innit?" She commented.
"It's a bit excessive when you want every single thing that could be remotely dangerous," Scotland grumbled while folding up his newspaper. He didn't know why she did that and asking wouldn't do any good. And he still had something that she didn't know about....
"Why do you even have all of this on you so early in the morning?" England questioned reasonably.
Scotland stood up and walked over to Fireburst's closed cage. As he opened the door he said, "When life is like this, I'd rather be prepared than defenseless." Fireburst quickly climbed onto Scotland's arm like an over attached rhimeleon.
"So you need 16 'self-defense items'?" England shamed rudely. Scotland rolled his eyes as he gave his phoenix reluctant affection. "I know that you only use one of these things," She added. Her voice was followed by the snap of Scotland's confiscated switchblade.
"You know what I think is unnecessary?" Scotland asked with irritation in his tone as he turned around to face his sister. "The fact that you find the need to force me to give you my things and then judge me about it. Why the fuck do you find that necessary?"
England looked at him with a serious expression. She wasn't going to argue, hopefully. "Well, recently, I've observed that you have been a tad bit more violent. And I know what you did to your hands yesterday," She explained calmly.
"You don't think that I can be trusted? I've spent practically my entire life using weapons, and now I'm not trustworthy?" Scotland assumed with Fireburst providing a good amount of weight to his forearm. He may have gotten a bit carried away already.
"I didn't say that," England said blandly.
"You're treating me like Wales again. I'm not a fucking child!" Yeah.... he was getting carried away.
"I'm not treating you like a child. I'm sorry if it is coming off like that," she said as calmly as possible.
'Let me teach her how to be sorry. That bitch-.' "Get out of my fucking head!" Scotland blurted as his hands shot up to cover his face.
Fireburst consequently had no place to perch and landed on the floor. England watched her twin with a slight confusion. Scotland suddenly took a deep sigh with closed eyes as he dropped his hands to his side.
"I- I'll be over at Iceland's," He stated abruptly while power walking to the door. England wasn't going to stop him, there was no point in trying.
She waited to hear the dorm door close and automatically lock. England glanced down at the objects that weren't hers in her hands, "This was for safety right? Yeah. This is safer." Not only for other people, but for Scotland as well. "Why did he do that to himself, Fireburst? I thought he got over it," England spoke to the phoenix.
Kaleidoscope was too stupid to understand. Fireburst suddenly exited in his signature cloud. It wasn't long before the phoenix was on the couch next to her, holding something in his beak.
"What do you have there?" England said as she reached for the two pieces of paper. The two pieces were once one, once a full photo. She was concerned to say the least upon seeing Scotland's most prized memories ripped in two.
The family photo, there was only one of it, and it was ruined. The rip tore off the heads of three of the royals, England, Scotland, and the King. Destroyed, memories shattered by a mistake, clouded in that traitorous guilt.
"That's why."
A bit later, in Dorm #15.
Innocently watching an American homicide show on the TV and eating a bowl of chocolate ice cream for breakfast, there wasn't a concern in Iceland's mind over Scotland's abrupt arrival. She was sitting criss-cross-applesauce with her bowl in her lap and a blanket wrapped around her like an oversized shawl.
Scotland was watching the same show, sitting on the same couch next to her. Norway isn't one to stay inside all day, so who knows where he is.
"You speak French, right?" Iceland spoke up to break the silence.
"Not well, but yes," Scotland answered truthfully.
Iceland nodded while eating another spoon full of her freezing cold chocolate sugar. "What made you want to learn it?" She asked curiously.
Scotland thought back in time, metaphorically skimming through his memory files. "It was either to defy my father, or a bet. Though I'm leaning on the bet explanation," he said finally.
Iceland was almost finished with her bowl. "I'm guessing that you take bets seriously," She commented. This information could be used to her advantage.
"I mean, who doesn't?" Scotland blurted with a shrug.
The episode on the television was almost over. The killer was quickly being revealed, one sweater fiber at a time.
"Well.....sometimes it depends. But I want to know, what other bet-like things do you take seriously?" Iceland questioned while looking over at the Scot.
Scotland counted on his fingers as he listed, "Fair bets, dares, duels, drinking games I guess. I don't gamble money or my life."
His list reminded Iceland of a bet that she had lost, thanks to Norway, innocence wasn't going to exist anymore. "That's a lot, don't you think that you could be putting a bit much on the line?" Iceland asked. She tried to keep the dare for later, it would just be awkward right now.
"Eh, I'm probably going to die before I'm 30 so I might as well have fun," Scotland said. The episode ended with the show's theme song playing as the credits rolled. They both reached for the remote on the coffee table at the same time.
Scotland grabbed it first, with Iceland putting her hand on top of his bandaged one. She didn't remove her hand right away, though Iceland did bring her limb back to her bowl after about 2 seconds of the physical contact.
Scotland didn't say anything about it as he clicked the select button. And the next episode started to play.
Iceland finished her ice cream, dropping the spoon into the bowl with a clatter. "That was a bad idea," She commented without context as she set the empty bowl on the table in front of them.
"What was a bad idea?" Scotland wondered rightfully. Iceland pulled her blanket tighter around herself, "Eating that; I'm f*cking freezing now."
Scotland didn't really know what to do, warming someone up really wasn't what he did. He does quite the opposite usually. The Scot wanted to help, but he didn't know how.
"I'm gonna turn on the heater," Iceland notified him as she stood up with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.
"M'kay," Scotland mumbled. He was wearing a warm pair of jeans, add that to his sensitivity to heat, and a "M'kay" shouldn't be what he was saying. Iceland walked around the couch to go do as she said. Scotland sat in silence until she came back around the couch. He knew that the room would gradually heat up.
Iceland sat down right next to him, not where she was sitting earlier, but 3 inches away. Again, he didn't say anything about it, yet you know that he wanted to. Besides, there was a show to watch. Iceland suddenly reached over him to grab the remote on the armrest on Scotland's left. Consequently, Iceland leaned on Scotland's persons. Yet she didn't sit up right afterwards, instead she slightly snuggled up to him.
"Is this okay?" She asked politely. Scotland glanced down at her and said as casually as possible, "It's fine." Iceland hummed with content as she looked at the TV. Scotland felt her hands wrap around his right arm, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
Add these factors, the blanket, Iceland's body heat, the heater running, and Scotland's poor outfit choice. The air began to get pretty hot pretty quickly.
why did I write this?
7:32 PM. Dorm #24.
Scotland sat on the couch, fidgeting with the bandages on his hands. "It isn't that difficult," He told his sister.
"Maybe not for you," England said as she moved her knight forward. Scotland breathed a mental sigh of relief before putting his sister's knight in the death zone.
He let England think as he traced the gashes in his hands through the gauze. Starting on the back of the hand; lined up with his middle knuckle, between his thumb and pointer finger, ending in the palm of his hand; lined up with his ring finger. Another lining his middle finger, vertically slicing all the way down to his wrist.
"Will you stop doing that? It's just going to get more irritated," England expressed her dislike for Scotland's fidgeting.
"Just like you are," Scotland said as England moved her knight out of the way.
"I will deem both of your hands unusable if you don't knock it off," She threatened him.
"How would you do that? Check," Scotland asked smugly as he put her king in check.
"You'll see," England said as she moved her king out of harm's way.
"Making me believe that you don't have a plan," Scotland stated cockily as he picked up his bishop. England grabbed his wrist and jerked it upwards enough to be painful. "What the hell-"
"I'll deem your hands useless," England said with a smile before letting his hand go. She went to kill one of his pawns, not thinking about how that did nothing beneficial to her.
"Okay then," Scotland was quite stunned, "Aaaannnd, checkmate Lighter." The two were getting used to calling each other by their combat names.
"I want a rematch," England said in her frustration.
"This is the fourth rematch in a row, you've lost all of them," Scotland reminded her.
England fumbled over her words, "I know that! I'm winning this time, I can tell," she declared as she reset the board. Scotland leaned back and began to mess with the bandages again. "I am going to singe your soul," England threatened, she really didn't like him messing with it.
"I'm already covered in burn scars; you want to try again?" Scotland challenged. Both of the twins sustained scaring from the other, usually endured during training sessions or violent fights.
"Is that a challenge?" England wasn't being serious, but if the situation called for it....
"No, it is a declaration of war on jellyfish," Scotland said with a roll of his blank eyes, "White always goes first." He reminded her it was her move.
"If I lose this, I'm sending that cheating smirk to Jesus," England grumbled as she made the first move of the game.
16 minutes later.
"Checkmate," Scotland beat her once more.
"You cheater," England accused him of somehow rigging a normal chess board.
"Prove it," Scotland crossed his arms, "Prove that I'm an empty skulled chess cheater." The Scot stared at his sibling with a decently smug and victorious expression.
"I might not have reliable evidence to prove my claims, but I know how to get reliable evidence," England stated with semi-malicious intent.
"Your actions would be as stupid as the witch trials," Scotland spat out confidently. Interrogating him about this would be only gaining a straight up lie.
"One more...then bed. Your stupidity is exhausting," she said while beginning to reset the board.
Word Count: 2296
England went on to win the game, whether or not she won it fairly, you will never know.
I'm really REALLY sorry for the lack of updates. In the past 20 days, a lot's happened. I got accepted into something personal, I started juggling three different D&D campaigns at once, one of my friends and I have been getting on worse terms, school is still being a bitch to me, there's Halloween literally around the corner, and social relationships that I am maintaining. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Frostbite isn't my first priority anymore. Maybe monthly updates will become a thing from now on, until I get free-time again. Have a Happy Halloween, (Or if you don't celebrate it) have a very good week.
<Goodbye>