[010] Not yet lost?

[likesottlyfab]

[A. Outside 1332 Benny Road - Backdated to the day after the end of Welcomefield]

[After spending the morning droned as Mr. Feliks Łukasiewicz, Poland actually smiles at the three boxes that showed up in the mail later on in the day. Lithuania said that Poland would get his nationhood back soon and it actually seemed like he would now!

Not even bothering to take them back into house, Poland just plops down on the front lawn with them. He'd already done his waiting, like months of it. He couldn't wait another minute. He runs the serrated edge of his house key along the tape securing the top of one of the boxes and pulls the cardboard flaps back.]

. . .

[Poland tilts his head as he looks down at the pull toy Ukraine gave him at America's Halloween party last year. The memory it brought back was nice, but... time to move onto the next box.]

. . .

[Which was full of clothes. Of course they were fabulous clothes, they were his after all. Any other time Poland would have been happy to get them back. But now they just left him with one box.]

. . .

[Poland hesitates slightly, his heart fluttering in his chest a little. It'd been a while since he'd felt this anxious over something. He was so carefree normally anyone would find it hard to believe that he actually did worry over things. And not getting his nationhood back was something he thought was worth worrying about. Taking a deep breath and scraping together the last of his optimism, Poland tears into the box and throws it open.

Sitting in the middle of the box is a single cup, filled simply with dirt.]

A cup. Of dirt.

[Poland picks up the cup to stare at it. When you spend a good portion of your life feeding the majority of Europe, you got to know dirt pretty well. Picking up a dirt clod and letting it break up in his hand, Poland recognizes it from home from just the feel of it.

This was his land.

But. Without his nationhood it was just... dirt.]

No. No way. No freaking way.

[Poland tears through the box of clothing one more time. Maybe he missed something. Maybe there was something else in here. There had to be something else in here. He can feel his hands shaking and his breath catching in his throat as he flings shirts and skirts and pants haphazardly all over the lawn, not caring where they land or that he'll have to scrub out grass stains later. The box empties quickly and he's left staring at nothing.

It wasn't fair. He'd never gone this long without knowing how they felt or what they looked like or what they were saying. He'd been wiped from the map for 123 god damn years only to be wiped out again a few years later and still he'd never been isolated from them like this. He was able to rise from the ashes of a ruined land because of them. They kept him going, they kept him fighting, they kept him alive. It was their belief in him that made him who he was.

Who the hell was he anymore without them?

He'd died.

He didn't want to admit it. The idea of dying was so utterly foreign to him that he refused to believe it had happened once before, right after coming to Mayfield. He'd died. And it happened again just yesterday.

He'd died because he'd tried to find a way out of this town and Mayfield sent a harsh reminder of what his existence was now. Mayfield's Mr. Łukasiewicz; Head of 1332 Benny Road, town tailor. That's who he'd spent the morning as anyway. Fixing his tie and shining his shoes. Greeting his wife and doting on his children. Maybe the happiness he'd been forced to feel this morning wasn't so terrible.

At least compared to the hollowness he felt trying to cling to the belief he was still Rzeczpospolita Polska...

....and the realization that without his people, there was no longer a reason for him to rise again.]

...

[Poland simply lays in his front yard holding the cup of dirt; surrounded by torn open boxes, discarded clothing, and the tipped over pull toy. He can't find the energy to do anything else right now.]

Comments

[vytis]

[Lithuania might have, upon returning from work, first attended to the boxes by is own mailbox. It was time to get things from home, after all. But no, what drew the nation's attention was the complete mess of Poland's yard. The fact that there were clothes everywhere was sign enough that something was wrong--Poland and mistreating his clothes just don't go together.

Lithuania is moving before he really takes full stock of everything, but his eyes still scan. He steps over the pull toy pony and carefully picks his way around the clothing until he reaches Poland, laying in the middle of the entire disaster area with what looks like a cup of dirt. Lithuania kneels down beside him.]

Poland, what are you doing?

[likesottlyfab]

[It takes him a long moment before acknowledging that Lithuania's even talking to him. He didn't have any justification for replying to that name anymore. It's not who he was here.]

... Don't call me that.

[vytis]

Eh? [Lithuania blinks at his friend, confusion obvious on his face.] Don't call you Poland?

[likesottlyfab]

I'm Mr. Łukasiewicz.

[vytis]

...Are you still half droned?

[He's turning Poland's response over in his mind even as Lithuania asks, though, tracing his memories back before they got stuck in that alternate carnival. He might have an idea of what's going on, if Poland isn't droned.]

[likesottlyfab]

Nope. Not droned.

[Poland lets another clod of dirt break apart in his hand, watching it crumble back into the cup.] I just can't keep pretending I'm something I'm not anymore.

[vytis]

Pretending-- [Lithuania shifts so he has a better look at Poland's face.] You're not pretending to be Poland.

[likesottlyfab]

Not anymore I'm not.

[Lithuania shifts into Poland's line of vision, but Poland doesn't seem to acknowledge it at all.]

I'm Mr. Łukasiewicz. I live on 1332 Benny Road, Mayfield, USA. I work as a tailor.

[vytis]

[Lithuania's voice jumps up a little, nervousness weaving itself more obviously into his tone.]

N-no, you're not. Not really. It's not as if we really live here.

[likesottlyfab]

[Lithuania didn't. Lithuania had a home and people who loved him and that he knew were doing okay, holding things together until he returned. He'd told Poland so in the bar a few months ago. Poland didn't have that.]

I don't know any other home.

[vytis]

[Lithuania's train of thought crashes spectacularly into itself when Poland speaks.] What are you talking about? I know you haven't forgotten anything!

[likesottlyfab]

[His eyes shift to look at Lithuania, but there's a hollowness to them that no one would recognize coming from Poland of all people.]

I've forgotten what they looked like and how they sound. I don't know what they feel anymore.

I don't know anything.

[vytis]

[It's a little frightening to see Poland looking like that. Poland, who Lithuania had always been able to count on to drag himself back up from whatever knocked him down just because he was Poland.

Well, that was the problem here, wasn't it?]

That doesn't mean you stop being Poland! Even if you can't feel them, they still need you. You can still remember your history, right? That still happened to you.

[likesottlyfab]

No. [He pauses, putting together his jumble of thoughts.] That's not how it worked.

They didn't need me. I needed them. They're what pulled me through everything.

I'm totally worthless without them.

[vytis]

You're still them and they're still you even if Mayfield changed your body, Polska.

1/2

[likesottlyfab]

What would you know about it? You went a whole, what? Month? Without yours?

It's been like eight months of nothingness for me with no end in sight.

2/2

[likesottlyfab]

[Poland's voice cracks and his eyes water.]

I can't do this anymore, Liet.

[vytis]

[Pointing out he'd actually gone three months without his nationhood probably isn't a good use of his time. Instead, looking around at the scattered objects, he stands up and grabs Poland's hand to pull him up too.]

Then we're going to the post office.

[likesottlyfab]

[Poland lets himself be pulled upwards, but keeps clinging to the cup of dirt with his free hand. He doesn't want it to spill.] Why?

[vytis]

[Lithuania, registering the three boxes and the dirt Poland is clinging to, begins dragging Poland down the street with a single-minded purpose usually reserved for the middle of battlefields.]

You can trade in things you get back for other things from home.

[likesottlyfab]

[Poland ended up trading on one of his excursions to the Post Office once. He didn't particularly care much for the result.]

Last time I traded for something I lost fingers.

[vytis]

[Lithuania winces at the reminder, both out of sympathy and remembering what Poland traded said fingers for, but he doesn't stop moving.] Because you didn't have anything to trade. We're bringing that. [He points to the dirt with his free hand.]

[likesottlyfab]

You're going to trade a cup of dirt for my nationhood.

[If Poland weren't feeling so emotionally barren, he'd probably find that somewhat offensive.]

[vytis]

It's from Poland, right? [Continuing to drag Poland down the road. He would rather Poland get offended than sound so blank.] It just has to be something they gave you, that's all.

[likesottlyfab]

It's dirt.

[vytis]

It's something to trade! [Just a little exasperated out of worry.]

[likesottlyfab]

[Poland stops walking, despite Lithuania's dragging.]

No one wants to trade for a cup of worthless dirt.

[vytis]

[Lithuania stumbles when Poland stops so suddenly.] It's a piece of you, isn't it? It's not worthless.

[likesottlyfab]

Here it is.

And even with our bodies back, we're still totally useless here. If we try to do something to get out or to figure out how what's going on, this place just punishes us for it.

[All he can think about is how he left Lithuania alone in a basement full of corpses after his initial arrival, only to die again just yesterday: no closer to figuring out how to get home. Months had passed and nothing had changed.]

What's the point?

[virtualdiva]

[Miku doesn't remember something, right now. Getting caught by a fog that disintegrates all in its way will do that to you, and thus she has a memory problem, particularly relating to her death. Heck, she doesn't even know she died, or spent one more day in that horrible carnival. As far as she knows, she's out, and she's glad for it.

And then she sees Poland out on the front yard. Or, well, what used to be their front yard.

She walks on over, then sits down next to him.]

You okay?

[likesottlyfab]

[Poland lets his head loll in Miku's direction. He doesn't say anything, but the look on his face should answer her question adequately enough.]

[virtualdiva]

...ah.

[She bites her lip. She's not sure just how to put this, really.]

What happened, Poland-san?

[likesottlyfab]

[It's a long moment before Poland speaks.]

Mayfield took something that was important to me and I need it.

[virtualdiva]

Can't you go get it back somehow?

[likesottlyfab]

It's been eight months. [This would have been nothing to Poland. Eight months was merely a fraction of an eye blink to someone who had lived over a thousand years. In this human form cut off from home however, it'd become an agonizingly long time for him to endure.]

I don't think I'll ever get it back. [He'd built up a thousand years worth of material crap back home for Mayfield to pull from and send through the mail. He could be waiting forever, if he even lived that long. Human bodies were so fragile and fleeting.]

[virtualdiva]

You will! I got this back, remember?

[Tapping herself on the arm to prove her point. There's the distinctive sound of metal there.]

It's just taking a while.

[splashpuppy]

[THere's someone... lying on the ground in front of the house next door]

Mr Poland? Are you okay?

[likesottlyfab]

. . . [Poland won't reply to that name, but his eyes are open and it's obvious that he's breathing. Physically he's perfectly fine.]

[splashpuppy]

[Hajime's really not sure what to do about this situation...]

What's wrong?

[likesottlyfab]

[When Poland does speak, he does so very quietly and with a flat tone. It's entirely different from the generally bubbly way he generally spoke.] I'm not myself anymore. Not here.

[splashpuppy]

[Now he's just confused]

Then... who are you?

[motheringnation]

[Walking over.]

....Poland? Poland what's wrong?

[likesottlyfab]

[It's getting to be rather painful, hearing that name over and over again .]

That's not my name here.

[motheringnation]

...What? Of course its your name....

[likesottlyfab]

I'm Mr. Łukasiewicz.

Feliks Łukasiewicz. It says so on the mailbox.

[It's odd to say that out loud, but it seems to hurt less than insisting he's Poland when he doesn't feel anything like himself.]

[motheringnation]

....oh....but...

[She's starting to wonder if you're a drone.]

Why do you want to be called that now?