Every Breaking Wave (Germany / England)

[England - Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur secretly found enjoyment in traveling to Germany, perhaps because the culture held some similarities to his, and he always did find a certain comfort in that. The former closeness that he had with its nation had been fractured recently because of the recent divorce. Even so, Arthur felt that it was important to at least continue having decent relations, especially with the burgeoning threats nearby that were more worthy targets of their attention. He had taken a flight over, and had decided to enjoy his trip while he waited for the day and time they’d previously set to have drinks and dinner, an attempt to work toward something better than the soured aftermath following the events of a handful of years prior.

The planned city that they were meeting in was Berlin, one of Arthur’s favorites when it came to unique nightlife spots of inland Europe. The restaurant was located on one of the main strips of the city, in an area that felt very young and vibrant, but also quite causal with lots of beer choices. Arthur was careful to choose a spot that was conservative enough for Ludwig’s comfort level, and interesting enough for himself. This bar/restaurant was on a more respectable side of town, with patrons that likely had at least some money, but still with enough of the Berlin glamour that clung to the city’s reputation.

He dressed casually enough, but still with enough class for a night out. Once he arrived, Arthur decided to hang around the bar area on the second floor where people mingled, got their beer or other drinks, and would hang around either around the interior or out on the balcony that overlooked some of the city life. Arthur decided to wait near the balcony so that he could smoke a bit. It was a habit that he’d just recently started to pick up again, particularly in times of stress, although it was still sparse enough. He’d gotten himself a chilled lager and was nursing it slowly, not wanting to become too loose by the time Ludwig managed to get there. In the meantime, he was also thinking over aspects of their very up and down relationship throughout recent history; and how this felt like just another unexpected turn in a rather fast-paced journey.

tag // Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Ludwig had kept most of his thoughts and feelings about the divorce fairly close to his chest, at least compared to the other nations involved. Though even without giving much of an indication one way or the other, it was easy for anyone to guess that he wasn't happy about it - he just didn't see the point of loudly voicing his opinion. After all, Arthur is his own nation - he is, of course, welcome to make his own decisions. Even those that leave almost thirty countries tied to an economic bloc minus one powerful and responsible nation, shifting the burden almost entirely on Francis and himself to make sure that the others stay afloat. That is, of course, completely fine.

But now that the dust had settled on that, he recognized just as much as Arthur did that their relationship had not been undamaged by all of that. Which was certainly not desirable for political reasons, but also for personal reasons - though he had certainly been angry at Arthur for this or that reason, he'd never truly hated him. And that being the case, he saw no reason not to patch up any tension between them now, whether or not there are any threats making it even more important.

When he arrived at the place they were to meet, he look a quick look around to get a sense of the place - this was not a venue that he had been to before. It may have been in his capital, but he certainly didn't have the time to keep up to date on each new bar or restaurant as it opened. Especially one that he could immediately tell wasn't quite to his taste - which isn't to say that it wasn't a prefectly acceptable place, it just didn't have a chance of making his personal top ten list. It took him a few minutes to locate Arthur when he arrived, though this meeting was casual enough that the search didn't bother him more than a little bit. And his spot near the second floor balcony isn't exactly a hiding place, after all.

"Guten Abend," he said as he joined him, his voice and manner relaxed, "It is good to see you again." He'd dressed casually, at least for him - Ludwig seemingly doesn't seem to be aware that there are indeed clothing options that are more casual than 'business casual' but are not, for example, workout wear. Having located a drink of his own before he found Arthur, he sipped it and took a glance at the view from the balcony. The sight of Berlin in the evening was of course familiar to him, but that didn't mean that he didn't appreciate seeing it from a new angle.

[England - Arthur Kirkland]

From Arthur’s end, he had a very interesting relationship with Ludwig, because of the high level of contention between them in the past, beyond the recent divorce, particularly during the wars. He wouldn’t say that one of them was really at fault for all the terrible things that had followed, but simply that the two of them were understandably reacting to what had happened previously, like a vicious cycle that was very difficult to stop. Arthur didn’t want that same thing happening again. Like Ludwig, Arthur never really held any true hatred or loathing toward him. Frustration, fear, and anger perhaps, at various levels for different reasons. It was simply a rough past, and now with some frustration presently. Perhaps it was more surprising that the two of them were generally still somewhat pleasant with each other despite these events.

He heard Ludwig before he saw him, still leaning on the balcony railing with his forearms as he finished his last drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke delicately before he discarded the butt in one of the nearby trays. Arthur gave Ludwig an almost cynical, but still genuine smile, which was typical of the Englishman no matter who he was meeting. ”Good evening to you as well. Are you sincere in saying that it’s truly good to see me?” Arthur sounded a little amused, but he also cast his gaze out onto the city, taking a long sip from his lager. He spoke after a small pause, as if considering. ”I suppose it really is good to see you, particularly when we’re not under the scrutiny of others, without wearing our obligatory political lens, and not under the insistent direction of our leaders.”

Arthur pulled his free hand from his jacket pocket, reaching to briefly grasp at Ludwig’s hand, a gesture of goodwill and respect despite the difficulties in their relationship currently. ”Shall we get to our table? I’m sure we still have quite a bit to discuss, as much as the lights of your city are tempting me to stay out here.”

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

The fact that they got along fairly well these days was not actually very surprising to Germany. For him getting along with the other nations was very, very intentional. He may not have tried the strategy of deciding that he didn't care what anyone else thought and ignoring everyone's opinions about what he was doing for very long in numbers of years, but after seeing how well that worked out and the full aftermath of it, he's well and truly learned his lesson. And since then he'd worked long and hard to ensure that he regained a more favorable reputation - and was quite successful at that, really. Yes, many nations still got nervous when he was angry, but that is useful to him so he isn't very concerned about it. But getting along with Arthur in particular is something that he did on purpose.

His expressions were as stoic as ever as his greeting was returned, not returning the bit of humor he could hear in Arthur's tone as he replied simply with, "Of course." His voice was very sincere, making it clear that as far as he was concerned that was an unnecessary question, but not one that he was bothered by answering. And he saw no reason elaborate, because Arthur didn't need a detailed explanation of the finer points of his feelings about the situation, and even if he did Ludwig wasn't the type of person to give him one anyways. In his opinion, simply stating that he viewed seeing Arthur as a positive was an adequate summary of his current state of mind.

When Arthur mentioned politics and their Bosses, Ludwig's lips were pulled into a faint and somewhat grim smile, "Ja, and vhile all of that is important, it can also make it easy to forget other important things - the politicians think too much in terms of the time span of their careers, but our memories are much longer." Which was is roundabout and indirect way of stating up front that he didn't think of their relationship in terms of the past several years but the entire span of time that they'd known each other. Which was a very, very long time. His grip was very firm but without an ounce of hostility as he shook Arthur's hand - a sign of respect between equals and allies.

He nodded as Arthur indicated that he wished to continue the conversation indoors, and immediately turned to lead the way. During his very brief search for Arthur, he'd seen a few unoccupied tables that looked like a good place to talk with at least a little privacy, so he headed in that direction as he commented, "But food is also very tempting - perhaps ve can find some that rivals the skyline?" But as he walked away from the balcony, he didn't immediately notice that Arthur was no longer behind him.


Instead Arthur would feel a strange, falling sensation as he was pulled to another time and another place. And though he'd never been to this particular place before and it had probably been quite some time since he'd been in a place that was similar, he'd probably recognize the purpose of it immediately - it was a hospital ward. It was also fairly simple to get at least a rough idea of the time-frame - the materials used for the walls, floor, and furnishings were clearly chosen because they were easy to keep clean and there were many metal fixtures so it couldn't be any earlier than the late 19th century, but the total absence of any electronic devices and the fact that there were at least a dozen beds in this room meant that it couldn't be any later than the early 20th century.

However, most of the beds were empty - fresh bedding was neatly folded and stacked, ready for the next patient. The few occupied beds were scattered at seeming random, the patients within mostly hidden beneath sheets and blankets. Daylight streamed through several large windows, a couple of which were open and letting in a faint breeze. The air coming in was perhaps a little cold, but the blankets on the bed were thick enough that the patients probably didn't mind it much and the fresh air was likely welcome.

As Arthur took this in, a woman in an all-white uniform noticed his presence and walked over to him. "Can I help you?" she asked, "Are you looking for someone?" She didn't know it, but she was providing Arthur even more clues. She was speaking German, and the nurse's uniform she was wearing had a long skirt, long sleeves, and a head covering. All of these were dispensed with by World War 2 because it was found to be more sanitary if nurses didn't wear quite so much fabric that was easy to accidentally soil, and it was also easier for her to notice that she had done so if it was on her skin instead of on a sleeve. And whether or not Arthur was aware of the reason for that change, he'd probably had the misfortune of being around enough nurses during the world wars to remember what they wore.

[England - Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur was about to follow Ludwig when he agreed with the notion to find their table and eventually their dinner, but he felt that sudden, stomach-churning falling sensation that he’d grown very accustomed to by this point after so many time-slips. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, and waited for that unsettling feeling to leave his body until he could hear very different sounds that wouldn’t be typical for an upscale restaurant in Berlin. Opening his eyes once more, he glanced over the sterile environment, a hospital most likely. He briefly studied the rest of his surroundings, from the style of the furnishings and the instruments that gave away a rough time period, a time that wouldn’t have been that far in the past by his standards. Arthur happened to be standing in some of the warm sunlight streaming in through one of the windows. Already, his gut was protesting him further exploring this time period, knowing exactly whose past he was stuck in based on the nation he was just interacting with. So, he waited there for a moment longer, taking what little warmth he could in what he knew would be a very numbing, uncomfortable experience.

He noticed the woman, appropriately dressed for the time as a nurse, walk over toward him, and he waited. Arthur folded his arms softly as he pulled his jacket a little tighter around his frame. His countenance suggested that he wasn't at all happy to be there. But that was perhaps normal to any outsider for a visitor to see someone in a place like this. ”Yes, ma’am. I’m looking for Ludwig Beilschmidt.” He responded back in perfect German, a language that he was familiar with over the centuries, as it was very close to Old English and he continued to learn it as it evolved up to modern times for various purposes.

Still taking in what detail he could and silently gathering more information on the exact time he was in, he waited for the nurse’s instruction when he gave her the name. Arthur didn’t want to draw any further attention to himself than was necessary, and a part of him was thankful that he dressed rather plainly this time compared to the usual whenever he would go out with another nation for dinner and a solemn conversation. All of this, he knew, would be a new memory, as he was nowhere physically near this area during this time for obvious reasons. As the time and circumstances filtered in, the less Arthur wanted to witness this further. Quite a bit of guilt over this stretch of time was still harbored firmly within him, and this would simply be added weight to the substantial amount already on his shoulders. Still, Arthur politely waited, ready to move forward.

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Though the nurse's eyes flickered over his clothing, and it was easy enough to guess why, his answer seemed to satisfy her enough to stop her from prying. Though the answer also caused a flash of sadness and worry to cross her features. She turned, and with a gesture indicated the patient in the far corner. "He is right there, sir," she replied, but quickly turned back to add, "He can take visitors, but please remember that he needs to rest." Her words were very firm, in the manner of one accustomed to having their advice ignored, but hoping that perhaps it would be heeded this time. Having said that, she turned to resume her duties.

It was difficult to glean too much more about the when and where of this place than what was easily observed when Arthur first arrived. Though the sounds coming from the open windows were the sounds of a peaceful city, and the view outside was primarily of the second floor of a neighboring building - meaning that this room was likely on the second floor as well. And the other building looked intact, so there was no sign of war - though that didn't necessarily mean anything beyond the fact that there wasn't any sort of battle being fought right here and right now.

When he reached Ludwig's bed, what Arthur would see was clearly the same person he'd seen in the restaurant moments ago. But there were also some very obvious differences. The change in physical age was very slight - only the barest hint - but the change in physique was drastic. Even at the end of each world war Ludwig had looked drawn and defeated but not like this - he was so wasted away that one could describe him as 'slender'. And he was obviously in rather poor health, shivvering slightly in spite of the fact that he was covered in what appeared to be a warm enough blanket, but at the same time there was sweat visible by his brow.

His eyes were half closed, staring blankly at the ceiling, though when he heard the footsteps of someone approach they shifted to see who it was. Even then they had a somewhat glazed appearance, though his expression became immediately confused. "Arthur? Vhat are you doing here?" he asked in bewilderment, his voice soft and somewhat distant. There was definitely something off about his reaction, though it was difficult to tell whether that was due to the influence of some drug he'd been given or perhaps it was entirely another side effect of whatever was making him ill in the first place.

[England - Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur’s face turned a little bit pink when the nurse glanced over his clothing, as if pointedly telling him that he looked rather out of place. He knew it, and it still embarrassed him the smallest bit, even as he expected it. Of course, his heart sank even further when she immediately pointed him in a direction, affirming that Ludwig was indeed here. Hearing the nurse’s instruction, he regarded her politely. ”Thank you. I’ll not take too much of his time. I promise not to be a bother.” He buried his hands deep in his pockets as he made his way across the area, noticing the view from the windows, also giving him further clues as to the exact time of this event.

A part of Arthur also knew that present-day Ludwig likely wouldn’t appreciate him traversing on a private memory like this. But, he really had no choice in the matter; all he could do was move forward and hope that it would end soon enough without invading more of that personal timeline. Ludwig’s appearance was very different, and it didn’t help the overall intrusive, heavy feeling. Arthur stood, awkwardly, at the foot of his bed for a moment, taking in these physical changes in the man. He was guessing from the glassy appearance of his eyes, that he might’ve been on something.

Arthur rubbed a little at the back of his neck as he drew closer to Ludwig’s bedside. He glanced around before spotting a chair nearby and pulled it close enough so that he could sit, not wanting to tower over the other nation while he was in bed with a rather weakened, sickly appearance. ”I… well, I wanted to… check in on you.” Arthur knew that didn’t sound right, but he didn’t know what else he could’ve possibly said for this situation, for being here at all. All his other words were stuck at the moment, and he didn’t want to overwhelm Ludwig with any further made-up explanation for why he was here. He kept his voice as low as his, a match to the quiet hospital surroundings.

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Ludwig watched the man as he came closer and took a seat. He may have felt very ill, but his expressions were as stoic as ever - he gave no real indication as to whether or not he wanted this visit. Of course, that's partly because he didn't necessarily think that his opinion mattered very much - if Arthur wanted to visit with him, there wasn't really much he could do to stop him except say that he didn't want it and hope that the other nation respected his wishes. But Arthur hadn't really been one to respect any of his wishes recently, so why bother with that? He supposed that he could simply refuse to speak, but that seemed like a rather childish tactic to use to avoid a simple conversation - it was not exactly torture or something like that.

But whether or not he wanted the visit, even in his current condition he wasn't shy about expressing his thoughts about Arthur's explanation for his presence. "I don't believe that for a moment," he scoffed, "You've made it perfectly clear that my vell-being is of no concern to you. Francis may hold more of the blame, but you vere there. You could have stopped him." His voice was bitter, but his tone was quiet. Though in his case it wasn't completely certain if he was being quiet on purpose or if his health was playing a factor in that too.

Then again, Arthur may recall that Ludwig didn't have nearly the same level of self-control during this period of time that he had in the present - the vast majority of that didn't develop until after the 2nd World War. In fact, this Ludwig could have easily been expected to yell right in someone's face if he was the least bit inclined to. So chances were good that he was not being so quiet on purpose, even if it did keep their conversation from disturbing everyone else in the room. Which was probably nice for Arthur, but it was also another sign of just how bad the bedridden nation must have been feeling.

[England - Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur didn’t really react when Ludwig told him that he didn’t believe him, because he already knew that his explanation was barely believable. But he didn’t offer a different one in its place, as nothing else would make more sense than that one, he simply looked back at Ludwig with a grim expression, lips pressed tightly together for a brief moment. ”Well… you’re right. I could have stopped him, or at least tried to convince him otherwise. I should have,” he added the last part after a small pause. He would’ve preferred it to have Ludwig yelling at him instead of this drugged, softer version of him. His quiet responses were more disturbing, because he had a feeling that Ludwig would have been yelling at him if he had the capacity to in this moment.

”France has always been rather testy with you. I don’t think he ever forgave you when your government published all that propaganda before the war about him being a whore, and selling himself to me in exchange for the entente cordiale.” A part of Arthur was still secretly amused with that bit, but he never shared that amusement with Francis, or he risked getting punched, and likely would've caused harm to their already unstable alliance. France and Germany had a very long history of being antagonistic with each other, and the first world war simply brought all of those old wounds to the surface. He also knew that Francis had once been rather bloodthirsty, comparatively very different from the Francis they knew today, and he was certainly calling for Germany's blood after the first world war.

”Is there anything I can do now? …You don’t believe my reason for coming here to check on you, and yet I’m going to assume that you can’t find a reason that makes more logical sense than that.” A part of Arthur was curious what Ludwig’s thought process was on why he might’ve been there in the first place. He knew there really wasn’t anything that he could do in this situation other than perhaps offer the smallest bit of assistance. He glanced briefly around the area to see if there was a second blanket, food items, or another dosage of pain medication (not that Ludwig really looked like he needed another dosage in that moment.) He was also curious what Ludwig might come up with for hypothetical various reasons for him being there.

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

When Arthur agreed that he should have stopped Francis, Ludwig responded to that with only a scoffing exhale. He felt no comfort hearing those words - it did nothing to help the situation, and he felt that it should have been obvious to begin with. Simply acknowledging a past mistake did nothing to resolve the problems it caused, and Ludwig doubted that there was a way to put that particular genie back in the bottle now.

And especially in light of the way Francis had treated him after the war, he was completely unrepentant about what he'd said about the man before. "It vas accurate. And he only vanted to cozy up vith you because he vas afraid of me. And also jealous - alvays has been. Even before I took over from my brothers he tried to stop me before I could rival him, because he vanted to be the only poverful nation on the continent. So I crushed him. I vouldn't need to do these things if he'd simply accept that he peaked vhen Napoleon vas his boss, but those days are long over nov," he rambled. Even being severely ill didn't stop him from having the energy and desire to express his negative opinions about Francis, though if he'd been feeling well then there was plenty more where that came from.

As it was, he let himself be distracted by Arthur's curiosity. If he weren't literally laying there with nothing better to do, he might have blown it off, but as things were he had no real excuse not to answer. "The only thing that can help me nov is my people. If they rally together around something then perhaps I vill live. Though I do not knov vhat they have to rally around - the republic is failing, it vas clearly a bad idea. If they do not join together, then another vill take my place and perhaps I vill die," he stated rather dispassionately, as he'd had plenty of time to consider his fate recently and being both a pessimist and a pragmatist meant that he didn't shy away from the worst possibilities.

"But as for your presence here, I can think of three possibilities," he added as if that question was of equal interest to him, "Either you vant something from me and are not being up front about it, or you actually do vant to check on me - I only doubt that your reason is because you care beyond some political strategy. The third possibility is both, and that's the most likely." Or at least that was his analysis of the situation, for what it was worth. Though while he'd normally judge his analysis of such things to be worth a lot, he did recognize that his health may be affecting his mental facilities. He didn't feel like his mind was being affected, but when it comes to the mind sometimes the person affected is the last person to know.

[England - Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur couldn’t help snorting softly when Ludwig reiterated his statements from before, calling Francis a whore for cozying up to him before the war. ”I can’t particularly blame him for being afraid of you. France was… is… rather used to being on top of the world.” Arthur had to be careful about using present term instead of past term, although he had a feeling that a drugged up Ludwig wouldn’t notice the occasional correction in his speech. Of course, a hint of repugnance touched his expression when Ludwig mentioned needing something to rally around, even if it was a vile man with large and very precise ambitions. Throughout history, however, it was those sorts of rulers who gained power and managed to hold onto it in such a damaging manner until forcibly removed.

”There has to be another way,” Arthur muttered quietly. While he knew that these events cannot be changed, a part of him will always wonder if there could have been another way. ”Perhaps there is something I can do to at least initiate change for you… I can speak with Francis, perhaps something can be negotiated so that you’re able to regain strength and maintain your position.” Arthur certainly didn’t feel like he could blame Ludwig for wanting something strong to cling to for survival, even if that strength came from a very questionable source.

He turned his gaze toward Ludwig on the bed once more, away from this thoughts, when he heard his response to his other question. Arthur leaned to one side of the chair, the side of his chin resting against his knuckles. This was the part of Ludwig that he personally enjoyed, a rather rational and strategic nation without a myriad of emotions attached to his thought process. ”I suppose political strategy might be a part of it… curiosity for how something might be able to end in a way that is more beneficial for everyone, yourself included. The reasoning for wanting to help you could be rather selfish on my end, since something like this does inadvertently affect all of us. History should have taught us that well enough by now.”

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Arthur's words about Francis being afraid of him prompted no response from the German. In his mind it only made sense because, after all, he was a powerful nation and was quite sure that as long as he survived this current setback he'd be able to regain his strength. So it wasn't the fear that was the problem, it was Francis acting like he could get away with treating him terribly.

Which was still the problem, as evidenced by the very events that led him to this hospital bed. And it was not a pleasant place for him to be, either physically or mentally. Which is why, as Arthur began to speak of doing something to help him, he greeted the words with a blank expression. "Arthur, look at me. Do I look like someone that just needs a little help? I am sick," he stated rather bitterly, "It's already too late to renegotiate the treaty - the damage has been done. At the same time that I desperately needed every resource I had to recover from the var myself, I vas instead forced to give much of it to Francis. And I am not going to be able to pay him this year - he is expecting blood from a stone. Vhere vas I supposed to get it in the first place? I had just lost a var! I don't even have my colonies to lean on - those vere all taken avay." A flicker of emotion finally crossed his face - sadness? - but it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

"But even if, at this point, the debt vas forgiven, that doesn't make up for vhat has already happened. It doesn't make my situation less desperate. It doesn't make my money vorth something again. It doesn't make my Boss any more competent," he continued, and in spite of his apparent lack of energy he managed to put at least a little of it into his words at this point, "And it doesn't make Francis not a greedy bastard vho did all of this to me on purpose. And it doesn't make up for the fact that you let him. You knev as vell as I did that it vasn't fair - I didn't start the var, I merely tried to protect my allies just like anyone else. Being forced to pay him is a humiliation that I vill never forgive."

Having said all that, he exhaled deeply and leaned back into his pillow, looking weary. He closed his eyes and added, "I do not vant your help, Arthur. I vill either rise again or fall on my own." After all, he didn't really trust the Englishman. Not only did he blame him for not reining in Francis, he didn't feel like they had much of a relationship before the war either. He'd seen the relationship that Arthur had with Gilbert, which certainly didn't fill him with confidence, and when he took over from his brother Arthur was running around telling everyone how splendid it was to have no allies or something. And while they got along that relationship never did have a very firm foundation, especially not when Arthur ended his isolation by siding with Francis.

[England - Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur had to strongly resist any expression that showed his irritation when Ludwig pointed out that he was sick. His fingers briefly rubbed at his temple before glancing up at Ludwig again. ”Yes, I can see that you’re sick. And I can see that you’re angry and want Francis and myself to pay dearly for the damage that we’ve done to you, either directly or by doing nothing. But that’s still not worth continuing the bloodshed and inflicting more damage on the world the next opportunity you get.” A part of Arthur, with all the memories of what had followed, was a bit genuinely upset upon learning that this point in history had been set on this path long before without any real hope of it being derailed. It made him angry. And the memories of his own scars and the memories of the scars that he witnessed being inflicted on others didn’t levitate that feeling.

”You think that wandering along the exact same lines as Francis and myself is going to make this better? You blame him, you blame me, and you’re going to make us pay, aren’t you? That makes you no better than us.” Right now, Arthur didn’t care that some of his words or insinuations might not make any sense to this past-Ludwig. It’s not as if Ludwig will remember any of this or that this conversation will change the course of history. Arthur got up from his seat, his fingers gripping hard at the metal bars of the side of the bed, his knuckles white. He remembered the thunder in the sky, the sirens through the night, the fire on his skin. He remembered the fear that struck his heart when the Germans were screaming over the line for their commander to destroy Paris, that ‘it must not fall into the enemy hands except with it lying in ashes.’ To carve out the heart of France in such a monstrous manner. He remembered first laying eyes on the structures that were harvesting massive death all over Europe. He remembered the horror of the true extent of Operation Sea Lion, blueprints to not only successfully invade himself, but to destroy and dismantle England as a nation, as a culture, and as a people, the best way that might kill a nation the same way that the ancients had faded from existence. In Arthur’s mind, even the thought of that operation was true hatred, and a part of him still hadn’t entirely forgiven Germany for that insane and brutal intention. But at the same time, he knew where vengeance led. It led here, to this sick bed, to these demented thoughts of continuing the blood-soaked cycle. He had little choice but to try and forgive in the years that followed the second war. Just as everyone else had.

”Damn you,” Arthur muttered, the anger and pain edged along his lowered voice. ”And damn us. Damn this whole sodding world for this.” He forced himself to release the bed or he was worried that he might shake the bloody thing. And he only said the words he really wanted to say, that he’d never allowed himself to say after all had all been said and done after the war, because he knew that the modern-Ludwig wouldn’t remember his words. ”I hate you for what you did. It’s been over seventy bloody years and I’m still forgiving you. And I hate that the rest of us were too fucking blind and stubborn to avoid this.”

He couldn’t look at the other nation any further, and he had taken Ludwig’s last statement as a dismissal, so he took his leave from the corner of this area where the Ludwig was resting. Arthur needed to cool off, steadily making his way out of the hospital wing. He certainly wasn’t planning on staying in this time-frame for much longer, and with their recently discovered method of getting out of a time slip, he very well was going to utilize it.

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

When Arthur started talking as if Ludwig wanted revenge, the German was indeed somewhat baffled by this insinuation. Not that the idea hadn't crossed his mind, but at the present time he had so many other concerns to worry about. Though he wasn't without hope, his chief concern at the moment was simply survival, for example. Maybe once that was assured he could start considering if and how he wanted to resolve the great injustice that he felt had been dealt to him - he was certainly angry enough.

Though as for his present circumstances, he responded by scoffing and bitterly asking, "How am I supposed to do any bloodshed? I don't have the money, and even if I did I can't have a real military - I'm not alloved, remember? But even if that veren't the case, vhy should I be 'better' than you? Give me one reason." If anyone deserved to be told to forgive and forget in this situation it was Francis, back when he was drafting that ridiculous treaty. So Ludwig wasn't very interested in hearing that lecture being thrown in his direction now.

Instead his mind was too focused on the more immediate problem - his government was on the brink of collapse. How should he fix that? He'd been strongly considering trying to save it by converting from this failing republic to a communist system - after all, it appeared to be working for Ivan and the level of organization appealed to him. He was very, very good at organization, after all. But he still wasn't sure. Of course he didn't know yet that he was about to get a new Boss, who would rally the people and fix the economy - he wouldn't be stuck in the hospital for very much longer. On the other hand, that same Boss would feed, encourage, and even add to the thoughts of revenge already present in the German's mind.

If he was baffled by the other things that Arthur had said, he was outright confused by what he could hear Arthur muttering next. However, before he could figure out how to respond, the Englishman stood and was apparently going to leave, and Ludwig was indeed not particularly interested in continuing this conversation any further anyways. So instead of puzzling over the words he turned his attention back to what he'd been doing before he was interrupted - staring at the ceiling and contemplating his fate.

As Arthur left the hospital wing, he'd find himself in a long hallway. Doors to either side were labeled in German, indicating a few isolation beds and offices. Near the end of the hallway was a staircase heading downward - the absence of another leading upward seeming to indicate that he was on the top floor. Near the staircase were a couple of windows, letting in light. They offered a better view of the outside than the windows Arthur had glanced at in the hospital ward as they were on the opposite end of the building - there was a cobblestone street with a streetcar lane down the middle. A few cars were travelling along it and a good number of people were crowding the sidewalks. There weren't any obvious landmarks to indicate exactly which city it was, but it could easily be Berlin or one of the other larger cities.

[England - Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur made his way further down the hospital corridor, glancing at the various German labels on each side, very briefly reading them, but not bothering with them too much. He did start to feel a bit better, a bit more at ease, after he removed himself from the situation, away from the words and very prominent reminders of those terrible memories that he was still trying to heal from. Wounds, if deep enough, could take more than a handful of decades to fully bounce back, if that was even possible from the atrocity this war had been. Arthur saw the windows before he noticed the staircase indicating that he was on the top floor. Arthur had to harden his resolve as he approached the windows, delicately feeling along the edge of the frame until the felt the latch clicking. He pushed open the windows, the cool breeze touching his face. He chewed a little at the inside of his cheek as he glanced down the height, estimating if it would be enough. Even though he’d experienced death many times, he still wasn’t very keen on ending his own life.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. He needed to get back. Arthur quickly glanced around himself to ensure that no one was making their way toward him, likely knowing exactly what this looked like, especially in a post-war German hospital setting. Arthur hopped up on the sill, his back to the street, facing the inside of the hospital. His heart was starting to race, naturally. He took another steady breath, finding his nerve, as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall back, releasing his hold on the window frame. The natural terror of falling freely gripped him tightly. It didn’t last long before the impact broke his body.

. . .

There was darkness and his senses were slowly starting to come to once more, only now on the floor of the restaurant that he’d left modern-day Ludwig at. There were a few people giving him strange looks, just now noticing that there was a man unexpectedly sprawled on the floor. Arthur could feel a thick layer of sweat on his brow as he gingerly started to pick himself up, the vertigo of the room unsteady, and carefully getting himself back on his feet. ”Pardon…” he muttered, somewhat dismissively so that the bystanders would leave him alone, his voice sounding rather parched and worn, which was a typical sensation after he’d experienced death. It had been a long while while since his last brush with death since nations didn't have a death experience that easily. Arthur’s shaking fingers reached for his handkerchief in his trousers pocket to wipe at the perspiration, taking in a steady, deep breath. He glanced around the area, unsure if Ludwig would still even be here. There's a chance that he might've at least grabbed another beer or two after discovering that his dining partner had disappeared.