REINO DE ESPAÑA ● Antonio Fernández Carriedo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quixotical) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thoughtformed2011-10-29 04:06 am
quixotical) wrote in thoughtformed2011-10-29 04:06 am
Entry tags:
it's midnight somewhere in the world, right?
WHAT: Log/actionspam for Spain's rescue from the nasty dark place.
WHO: Spain, and whoever is charging in to save the poor bastard. Feel free to jump in you want! The more the... creeped out?
WHEN/WHERE: Dark Hour, Spain's dungeon! Whichever... night. (My apologies for taking so long to get this up. And for how cheesy this whole thing is.)
Spain's general location in the Dark Hour probably isn't the hardest to find. After all, the sudden appearance of a large, rather typically Spanish looking villa wouldn't go entirely unnoticed, right? Anyone who knows Spain and his house would notice it looks much like his house does back home, except something about it seems off. Windows are boarded up or broken, parts of the house literately seem warped or falling apart. If anything, parts of it look like it would better suit a Salvador Dalí painting than an actual house. The only apparent entrance to it are the front doors.
Once you open the front door, you suddenly find yourself back outside. Or at least it seems that way - while it looks like you could be somewhere on the streets of Spain, the sky seems to be covered by a giant ceiling. The buildings seem to stop at the odd ceiling, instead of climbing upwards. The walls are plastered with what look like old propaganda posters - most warning about air raids and calling people to arms. (Any with a keen eye or a knowledge of history may recognise them from the Spanish Civil War. But that's silly, isn't it? That was so long ago now.) Almost none of the doors in the maze of buildings work, and any that do lead to shadows and monsters, and running away from that seems like the best idea.
Everything seems fine until you get further inside. Suddenly, the overall eerie silence of the place is shattered, and everyone can hear bombs and gunfire. As you continue on, air raid sirens suddenly shatter through the area, and you can see soldiers having a guerilla war in the distance. The state of the buildings seem to get progressively worse - some are be in ruins, others missing windows or columns. Suddenly, the fighting seems to get too close, and a building nearby explodes from the force of a bomb, blocking the obvious route out of the strange "city." The only choice now is to duck behind buildings and get out of the way, going a back alley route - which also sadly leads everyone into the thick of the fighting.
It's more dangerous as you continue on; bombs seem to explode right overhead, the shouts of soliders and the constant noise of gunfire is nearly right beside you. Buildings collapse around you, and dodging the fighting grows harder and harder. But, in the warzone, you spy Spain in the distance, looking like he's having an argument with the soldiers fighting. He looks tired and scared, and no cry you shout over the fighting will reach him. Suddenly, his Shadow appears - still in the same uniform you saw him in on the TV - knocking him out and dragging him away. Following after them is the only way out of this crazy mess, and while the bullets whiz right overhead, you find the door out of the area, and into supposed safety.
Leaving behind the war torn "streets" behind you, you'll find yourself in an ongoing and seemingly endless hallway. It looks like it should be within the house seen outside, but the hallway goes on and on forever, doors spotted along the way. Most of these doors can open, but many of them also contain monsters and shadows to fight. But, some of them seem to be nothing more than storage rooms - littered with what seems like junk, and full of stuff Spain would keep shoved away. But, if you look closely, you'll see they're old from memories - clothing, paintings, objects, and the like. Things from a gilded past - and things he'd rather keep shoved away.
After probably far too many doors and far too many dead ends, one in particular will open to a room that seems better suited in a basement - or even an old castle dungeon. Instead of clutter or another monster to drive away, the only thing in this room is a trap door. A peak outside shows double doors a little further down, but they're padlocked and shut. And something, something that you can't quite place, is calling you down below.
The trap door leads down a long, low staircase into what looks like the dungeon of an old castle. Medieval torture devices litter the area, and what sounds like faint screams echo in the distance. It's eerie, dark, and cold, and any shiver down your spine won't be easy to ignore. The only faint light in the room seems to be coming from whatever is the center of the large, dark dungeon.
There, in the center, is Spain. Left in a crumbled heap, he doesn't even seem to stir as people near him. He's obviously worse for wear - tired, battered, and bruised. Almost as if a switch went off, his Shadow appears - and this time looks different.
He's dressed in the splendor of Spain's Golden Age, all covered in velvet, furs, and gold. He looks younger than the Spain anyone knows now, barely a boy of sixteen and grinning eerily. There's no bruises or battered uniform this time, only the trappings of an empire at the height of its power.
"It's taken all of you long enough to find us, you know!" he says, his smile even and set as he comes closer. "Curious about where you are? It really shouldn't be that hard to figure out, not if you know anything about us." He gestures to the dungeon around them, shaking his head. "This is often how the Inquisition looked to those who were doomed to fail its rules. People would rot here, and all for some deluded sense of right. From some deluded sense of God that even the rest of the Church scoffed at."
He laughs a little, high and strange - not like the warmth of Spain's usual laugh, not like the awkward laugh he'd give if he was embarrassed. "And all this from the throes of the Reconquista. All this because we trusted and believed that we had to cleanse ourselves of the taint of the Moors. Of the Jews. Of anyone that didn't show the faith and sense of mind we had supposedly fought so hard to restore to our lands. We gripped tight, and what did that accomplish? Just more and more unnecessary bloodshed. Just for Europe to stop looking at Spain as some sort of stain on the map. Corrupted by Islam and other faiths."
The laugh and the ramble seems to cause Spain to finally stir, looking around blearily at his surroundings before stiffening. He catches one look of his Shadow and shakes his head, his face pale. "No."
"No?" his Shadow laughs, staring at him. "No? You can't say no. This is what you were, what you've never properly apologised for - and you're never going to, are you? Oh, no. You gripped too hard on everyone; every colony, every protectorate, even every bit of yourself, and what did that get you? A destroyed and decayed empire, and a civil war that literately tore you apart and made you into even more of a pariah than you were as a child! Everyone has left you, and everyone still wants to leave you. Catalonia and Basque are just chomping at the bit to leave you behind and never see you again, aren't they? And they aren't the only ones! You've literately destroyed yourself, and you don't even seem to care. You won't even admit your wrongs. What on earth do you have to be so cheery about, huh?"
The Shadow pauses, staring at everyone around Spain. "This is what you came to save. Better to let us rot, right? It'll happen anyway."
WHO: Spain, and whoever is charging in to save the poor bastard. Feel free to jump in you want! The more the... creeped out?
WHEN/WHERE: Dark Hour, Spain's dungeon! Whichever... night. (My apologies for taking so long to get this up. And for how cheesy this whole thing is.)
Spain's general location in the Dark Hour probably isn't the hardest to find. After all, the sudden appearance of a large, rather typically Spanish looking villa wouldn't go entirely unnoticed, right? Anyone who knows Spain and his house would notice it looks much like his house does back home, except something about it seems off. Windows are boarded up or broken, parts of the house literately seem warped or falling apart. If anything, parts of it look like it would better suit a Salvador Dalí painting than an actual house. The only apparent entrance to it are the front doors.
Once you open the front door, you suddenly find yourself back outside. Or at least it seems that way - while it looks like you could be somewhere on the streets of Spain, the sky seems to be covered by a giant ceiling. The buildings seem to stop at the odd ceiling, instead of climbing upwards. The walls are plastered with what look like old propaganda posters - most warning about air raids and calling people to arms. (Any with a keen eye or a knowledge of history may recognise them from the Spanish Civil War. But that's silly, isn't it? That was so long ago now.) Almost none of the doors in the maze of buildings work, and any that do lead to shadows and monsters, and running away from that seems like the best idea.
Everything seems fine until you get further inside. Suddenly, the overall eerie silence of the place is shattered, and everyone can hear bombs and gunfire. As you continue on, air raid sirens suddenly shatter through the area, and you can see soldiers having a guerilla war in the distance. The state of the buildings seem to get progressively worse - some are be in ruins, others missing windows or columns. Suddenly, the fighting seems to get too close, and a building nearby explodes from the force of a bomb, blocking the obvious route out of the strange "city." The only choice now is to duck behind buildings and get out of the way, going a back alley route - which also sadly leads everyone into the thick of the fighting.
It's more dangerous as you continue on; bombs seem to explode right overhead, the shouts of soliders and the constant noise of gunfire is nearly right beside you. Buildings collapse around you, and dodging the fighting grows harder and harder. But, in the warzone, you spy Spain in the distance, looking like he's having an argument with the soldiers fighting. He looks tired and scared, and no cry you shout over the fighting will reach him. Suddenly, his Shadow appears - still in the same uniform you saw him in on the TV - knocking him out and dragging him away. Following after them is the only way out of this crazy mess, and while the bullets whiz right overhead, you find the door out of the area, and into supposed safety.
Leaving behind the war torn "streets" behind you, you'll find yourself in an ongoing and seemingly endless hallway. It looks like it should be within the house seen outside, but the hallway goes on and on forever, doors spotted along the way. Most of these doors can open, but many of them also contain monsters and shadows to fight. But, some of them seem to be nothing more than storage rooms - littered with what seems like junk, and full of stuff Spain would keep shoved away. But, if you look closely, you'll see they're old from memories - clothing, paintings, objects, and the like. Things from a gilded past - and things he'd rather keep shoved away.
After probably far too many doors and far too many dead ends, one in particular will open to a room that seems better suited in a basement - or even an old castle dungeon. Instead of clutter or another monster to drive away, the only thing in this room is a trap door. A peak outside shows double doors a little further down, but they're padlocked and shut. And something, something that you can't quite place, is calling you down below.
The trap door leads down a long, low staircase into what looks like the dungeon of an old castle. Medieval torture devices litter the area, and what sounds like faint screams echo in the distance. It's eerie, dark, and cold, and any shiver down your spine won't be easy to ignore. The only faint light in the room seems to be coming from whatever is the center of the large, dark dungeon.
There, in the center, is Spain. Left in a crumbled heap, he doesn't even seem to stir as people near him. He's obviously worse for wear - tired, battered, and bruised. Almost as if a switch went off, his Shadow appears - and this time looks different.
He's dressed in the splendor of Spain's Golden Age, all covered in velvet, furs, and gold. He looks younger than the Spain anyone knows now, barely a boy of sixteen and grinning eerily. There's no bruises or battered uniform this time, only the trappings of an empire at the height of its power.
"It's taken all of you long enough to find us, you know!" he says, his smile even and set as he comes closer. "Curious about where you are? It really shouldn't be that hard to figure out, not if you know anything about us." He gestures to the dungeon around them, shaking his head. "This is often how the Inquisition looked to those who were doomed to fail its rules. People would rot here, and all for some deluded sense of right. From some deluded sense of God that even the rest of the Church scoffed at."
He laughs a little, high and strange - not like the warmth of Spain's usual laugh, not like the awkward laugh he'd give if he was embarrassed. "And all this from the throes of the Reconquista. All this because we trusted and believed that we had to cleanse ourselves of the taint of the Moors. Of the Jews. Of anyone that didn't show the faith and sense of mind we had supposedly fought so hard to restore to our lands. We gripped tight, and what did that accomplish? Just more and more unnecessary bloodshed. Just for Europe to stop looking at Spain as some sort of stain on the map. Corrupted by Islam and other faiths."
The laugh and the ramble seems to cause Spain to finally stir, looking around blearily at his surroundings before stiffening. He catches one look of his Shadow and shakes his head, his face pale. "No."
"No?" his Shadow laughs, staring at him. "No? You can't say no. This is what you were, what you've never properly apologised for - and you're never going to, are you? Oh, no. You gripped too hard on everyone; every colony, every protectorate, even every bit of yourself, and what did that get you? A destroyed and decayed empire, and a civil war that literately tore you apart and made you into even more of a pariah than you were as a child! Everyone has left you, and everyone still wants to leave you. Catalonia and Basque are just chomping at the bit to leave you behind and never see you again, aren't they? And they aren't the only ones! You've literately destroyed yourself, and you don't even seem to care. You won't even admit your wrongs. What on earth do you have to be so cheery about, huh?"
The Shadow pauses, staring at everyone around Spain. "This is what you came to save. Better to let us rot, right? It'll happen anyway."
no subject
He's toward the rear of the party, looking worse for the wear — after all, the only thing he's good for is being a human shield. Nathan's not a fighter, never has been, and the simple act of keeping up with the rescue team has him worn out. However, the stomach-churning memories that come with seeing Spain crumpled on the ground rile him. Nathan's lilting accent rises from the back of the crowd, his words irreverent as ever.
"Don't be a twat. We came to save both of you." A beat before he adds: "Why should you ever have to apologise for who you are?"
no subject
His Shadow speaks before Spain gets any chance to, focusing his smile on Nathan quickly. "Both of us, really? And here I thought you would call me the bad guy!" He tilts his head, blinking in gentle confusion. "For who we are? Oh no, it's just more of what he's done. All these years alive, and he lauds optimism over his own regrets. What a rather silly thing to do, right?"
no subject
Naoto cast a fleeting, sidelong look towards Nathan. While he hadn't been entirely helpful for the fighting portion of this dungeon adventure, he was proving him worth as a member of the team early on by attempting to reason with the shadow. Not that there was much reasoning anyone could so in this situation. Still.. for someone as normally uncouth and irritating as Nathan Young, this attempt wasn't so terrible.
"Optimism in the face of regrets is a capable way of coping with the past for anyone," Naoto retorts, attempting to be comforting with her gun raised all the same. "It does not necessarily alleviate guilt, but optimism is not a method to be ashamed of."
whooops, sorry for the delay
The Shadow, however, only scowls. "He's got nothing to be optimistic about. Our economy's collapsing, any power we had is nearly gone, and all anyone remembers us for is a black legend. What is there to be optimistic about?"
no subject
There's no hesitance, no looking back. Countries—people—did terrible things. He knew that, he wasn't particularly well-versed on the nuances of history, but he had read enough in his school book to know of the travesties that people caused in the name of their country.
It made everything very real. No one could escape the Dark Hour: not demons, not trolls, and not countries. Everyone had a darkness welling inside of them, but everyone who accepted it became better because of it. The whole situation baffled him a little bit, and even moving through the dungeon things seemed odd. Was this one person? A collection of people? The heart of a country? Did his own country have a Shadow too? In some ways, it was like how he understood Hong Kong, and how he didn't understand him at all at the same time.
"I dunno you can't take stuff like that back, and feeling sorry isn't the same as making it right! But I feel like if you're a decent guy, you're gonna be weighed down by it."
That's why they were here, right?
no subject
Spain doesn't answer - it is true, at least in terms of his people wanting to leave him. It does hurt. It's always hurt when his colonies and friends left him behind. But, maybe it has to happen, right? He's been alive a long time, but it doesn't make it easier.
no subject
"Sure I do. I'm still walkin'."
Belgium fixes the Shadow with a sharp, unintimidated eye. "Look, things are hard for everybody, have been for a long while, but that don't mean the worst is the only thing could be 'round the corner." She begins to move forward again, slowly, her expression softening to face the real Spain, the Spain she knows, huddled on the floor. "And we've all done things we ain't got nothin' but shame for, Boss. You know that..."
no subject
The Shadow just scoffs, glaring at Belgium. "You're one to talk. I'm amazed you've sticked around us this long, with all we've done to you and your brother."