HeLLo MYsElf (1P vs 2P Hetalia rp)(new and accepting)

[Alfred F. Jones]

France stopped momentarily, casting his gaze up at Jean. He swallowed the mouthful of stew he had in his mouth, glaring at him. "Odd to think I haven't spit any of it in your face yet," he retorted, starting to eat again, finishing the bowl of 'food' in a moment or so. I-I'm probably going to be sick, he thought, semiconsciously raising his hand to his lips.


"Germany...? Why?" Italy asked, but he quickly reconsidered answering his counterpart's question with another question and added, "He means a lot to me... A-a whole lot; he's my best friend." He sounded childish when he answered, as always, but it was true- he considered Germany to be his best and closest friend and ally.

[The Lost Gremlin]

Talking to- No-one
Feeling- Sick
Status- Single

England/Arthur Kirkland
Before lifting his head for any amount of time had seemed like too much effort to really manage, but as his counterpart went about pointing out his new-found disability he managed to force himself to look up at Oliver. His mouth opened to say something until his words were silenced by the spoon of stew being forced in. Because England hadn't expected the food to suddenly drop to the back of his throat like it did, it almost triggered his gag reflex whilst the taste alone simultaneously caused him to retch. Some of the stew was eventually swallowed however whatever wasn't simply dribbled down his chin in the form of a very dark red line.

[Arthur Κirkland]

Jean laughed once, noting that the other, despite his sassy retorts and complaining, was listening rather well. Anything to stay alive, I suppose... He thought to himself as he watched the other finish. "Watch it there. Anything you throw up, you'll be eating again." He warned, not kidding in the least.

"Artie, where'd your table manners go my dear?" Oliver taunted as his counterpart let food run down his chin. "Eat like a good boy, or I'll have to make you something else that you might enjoy more~" Though cheerful, his words were a threat, obviously stating he wouldn't be shy to cut something else of Arthur's off to make more 'food'.

2P Italy smirked a little. "Best friend, hm..?" He repeated, then let a laugh escape his throat. "Well I suppose he doesn't think you to be his any longer." He concluded, his words saying he'd done something to the German, and it obviously wasn't nice.

[Alfred F. Jones]

Francis closed his eyes, nodding a little but not speaking. He was just concentrating on keeping the stew down into his stomach. For some reason, it wasn't that bad until he reminded himself that it was England's hand in his stomach, and he had to keep himself from retching at that point. Anything you throw up, you'll be eating again. Jean's words echoed in his mind, threatening him not to let him rid himself of the offensive meal in his stomach.

Italy blinked, staring at the other silently for a few moments, unable to understand what exactly his counterpart meant. "What..? W-what does that mean..? T-that isn't true... He told me; when England said the same thing to me, Germany said that he was wrong! Y-you're wrong!" he said stubbornly, not wanting to believe what the other Italian told him. Germany couldn't hate him now... Right? What had he done? He didn't do anything... He looked down at the floor, wondering if maybe 2P Italy had done something. He didn't, but his look-alike was certainly capable of doing such a thing.

[Arthur Κirkland]

Jean watched, almost hoping his counterpart would throw up, just so he'd have to eat his own vomit. Yes, he was a sick individual, twisted and wrong. But, weren't they all? It seemed whatever world they came from, it was a horribly demented one, where ones found entertainment in torture and pain of both mind and body. Jean was no different, despite his less than enthusiastic demeanor.

2P Italy snorted once in amusement, staring directly at Italy. "Oh, I just don't feel as if someone would consider another a friend after they stabbed them in the back, literally." He gave a shrug, words said so very casually it was almost painful.

((I might go to bed now... Uber tired ^^'))

[Alfred F. Jones]

France opened his eyes, looking up at his counterpart. "What? You're looking awfully expectant," he mumbled. He really hoped that he could keep himself from regurgitating the stew, as he would simply hate to give Jean the satisfaction of forcing him to eat a more acidic version of what he'd already eaten.

Italy gaped in horror at his counterpart. "Y..You didn't!" he gasped, staring at the other with utter and complete disbelief; what was wrong with this person? "H-how could you do that...? He... He didn't d-do anything to you... I-I didn't do anything... Why are you so mean?" he asked weakly, his chestnut eyes filled with hurt- his friend had been injured all because Germany had trusted his 2P self, and he didn't even know what was going on until he'd been stabbed. Maybe Ludwig figured it out, as he would never do that to Germany. He was almost physically incapable. He couldn't stand the sight of blood, and sometimes even knives themselves were scary to him, especially if they were big. But he didn't know if Germany even thought of the possibility that maybe that Italy wasn't the one he'd befriended so long ago.

(Okie~ ^-^ Good night!~)

[Arthur Κirkland]

"Who wouldn't, when you're looking like that?" Jean countered, crossing his arms. "You look absolutely disgusted - ready to throw up, even." He mused, taunting his counterpart with a smirk.

2P Italy laughed once more, the sound evil and not at all like Italy's. "Oh but I did~ It was priceless, the look on his face... He really did think it was you." He recalled, tapping his chin. "I wonder if he's dead yet... He sure was bleeding a lot. Perhaps I shouldn't have taken that knife out so roughly." He spoke as if he was completely innocent, not at all even acknowledgining his counterpart's question. If he was the oposite of Feliciano, than he was certainly cruel.

[Alfred F. Jones]

"A normal person wouldn't be nearly as happy about it," France replied. "And, who wouldn't be disgusted?! I was just forced to eat one of my own allies' hands!" he snapped, glaring at the other Frenchman.

Italy shook his head a little. "He-he's not dead... He can't die... Y-you're lying... You're lying!" he shouted, clamming his eyes shut and bowing his head, refusing to believe it. "It's not true, it isn't! Germany wouldn't let something like that happen! He's smarter than that... He's strong... He's stronger than you!" he yelled, forcing the image of an injured Germany out of his mind. It couldn't be true.

[Arthur Κirkland]

Jean shrugged a little. "I've had to do worse - you counterparts are too soft." He replied cooly. "Any little bit of pain and you're crying, and you complain likes five year olds." He said, looking almost disappointed. Perhaps he thought a different version of himself wouldn't be such a wuss.

"You'd be better off beleiving me - it'll save you the disappointment later." 2P Italy sneared, sitting on a nearby table, letting his legs dangle off the side before he crossed them. "Anyone's weak in the presence of someone they trust, especially a pathetic Italian who wouldn't dare carry a knife, much less stab him. But don't worry, I told him I'd take good care of his land~" He chimed, then smiled over at the other. "The disguise made it all the better~ It's a wonder what a blue military outfits and brows contacts can do."

((Meh, tired... Night!))

[Alfred F. Jones]

"You don't see me crying right now," France retorted. "And why wouldn't I complain? You're giving me every reason to! You've broken my arm, forced yourself upon me, and you just add salt to the wound every time!" he told him, glaring up at the other as if he'd forgotten about his nausea.

Italy shook his head again. "No... I don't believe you... I still don't believe you! Let me call Germany! H-he's going to be fine, because you're just lying... You're lying to me! You're just trying to make me upset," he said stubbornly. "I... I won't believe it until you can prove it!"

(Goodnighteh! ^3^ )