Opening paragraphs to Chapter 5
Britain stood solitary in front of the palace, appearing almost as a statue, face blank and limbs still, their breaths the only thing betraying them. Their gaze was blank, eyes seeing everything yet nothing, lost to a world of their own fantasy and desires. Occasionally, a shudder would run through them, a twitch of the lip or eye, a small crack in their facade that showed all emotions that was yet invisible to the unknowing perceiver. Their eyes would suddenly regain lucidity and gaze over to the side, becoming frighteningly focussed as if looking upon someone before them before their eyes would glaze over once again and become as distant as before. If one could listen closely, they would hear light mutterings escape their barely open mouth, the words rapid and incomprehensible but the tone frightful. Anyone who could have heard would surely raise a cry of alarm, fearing the monarch to have gone mad or be under a dark spell, but alas, they were alone in their stupor, allowed to mutter heinous things not to be heard by any living soul.
The sound of a rapidly approaching carriage roused Britain from the depths of their mind, the muttering halting and the eyes regaining partial clarity, blinking rapidly as if confused by their surroundings. They lifted their head as the carriage came into view, slowing to a stop in front of the palace, the horses still and well-mannered as the coachmen hopped off his seat and rushed to the side of the carriage. He presently opened the door, back straight and face still as a towering figure stepped out of the carriage, nodding their thanks to the coachman.
Britain snapped to full awareness as the figure made their way towards them, casting a shadow over Britain’s smaller form. The figure's singular yellow eye narrowed momentarily, having caught the miniscule change in their expression.
Britain gazed up towards them, face neutral, although a slight notion of fondness lingered beneath.
“America.”
