Thank you anon above for commenting, to be honest, I was waiting for a comment to continue posting. :P
It had been months since America had tried to gather up his children’s things, and weeks since any of his kids had seen fit to wrestle him down because of the apparent danger to himself. The Northern states seemed to take his lack of struggle now as a mandate to do as they needed to maintain what they thought America needed, when the truth was that he just didn’t have the energy to struggle anymore.
Vermont and a few others had stayed behind to care for him, not trusting the servants to understand, even if they, on some level, knew what they were. “They say they’ve captured some,” said Vermont, “You want to see them?”
“Who?” said America blankly, as blank as his expression, blank ever since he’d torn those glasses off which had been kicked under the bed.
“Some of my brothers. Or they were. Don’t know what to say anymore,” answered Vermont, taking the pillows in his arm and stuffing them at America’s back to sort of make him sit upright. Then he took out a handkerchief and wiped down America’s face, arranging his hair, doing what he could to make the man look somewhat presentable. No matter what America said, it looked like he was going to have to see them anyway.
“Give me Kansas, you said if I came with you, I could see Kansas, where is she?” America could hear Missouri cry from the other room, the sound of how this whole thing started. When Missouri entered the room, though, he tried to present himself as maturely as possible, which was generally impossible given that he looked like a ten-year-old who’d fallen off of a horse. After him came Kentucky, bruised but not quite as battered, and then a boy that America did not recognize at all.
“Pa, they said that if I stayed with the Union, I could see Kansas, but I haven’t seen her yet —”
Kentucky looked like he was about to be sick, holding himself tight. “This is insane,” he muttered, “They’re all insane. You can’t make me pick a side. I refuse —”
And on and on they both went, America not really listening to either of them, instead staring at the new one uncomprehendingly.
“That one’s West Virginia,” lied Vermont softly, nodding toward the new boy.
“No.”
“West Virginia. That’s him, Dad.”
West Virginia stared coldly back. The fighting in the background sounded distant.
“Then… Virginia…?” America knew Virginia, she had that gold hair and that tall, slim figure, and such proud posture, and this boy only had the same way of standing.
“There’s still a Virginia.”
“But Virginia —”
Vermont didn’t say anything, but America understood.
Re: United We Stand [11/?]
It had been months since America had tried to gather up his children’s things, and weeks since any of his kids had seen fit to wrestle him down because of the apparent danger to himself. The Northern states seemed to take his lack of struggle now as a mandate to do as they needed to maintain what they thought America needed, when the truth was that he just didn’t have the energy to struggle anymore.
Vermont and a few others had stayed behind to care for him, not trusting the servants to understand, even if they, on some level, knew what they were. “They say they’ve captured some,” said Vermont, “You want to see them?”
“Who?” said America blankly, as blank as his expression, blank ever since he’d torn those glasses off which had been kicked under the bed.
“Some of my brothers. Or they were. Don’t know what to say anymore,” answered Vermont, taking the pillows in his arm and stuffing them at America’s back to sort of make him sit upright. Then he took out a handkerchief and wiped down America’s face, arranging his hair, doing what he could to make the man look somewhat presentable. No matter what America said, it looked like he was going to have to see them anyway.
“Give me Kansas, you said if I came with you, I could see Kansas, where is she?” America could hear Missouri cry from the other room, the sound of how this whole thing started. When Missouri entered the room, though, he tried to present himself as maturely as possible, which was generally impossible given that he looked like a ten-year-old who’d fallen off of a horse. After him came Kentucky, bruised but not quite as battered, and then a boy that America did not recognize at all.
“Pa, they said that if I stayed with the Union, I could see Kansas, but I haven’t seen her yet —”
Kentucky looked like he was about to be sick, holding himself tight. “This is insane,” he muttered, “They’re all insane. You can’t make me pick a side. I refuse —”
And on and on they both went, America not really listening to either of them, instead staring at the new one uncomprehendingly.
“That one’s West Virginia,” lied Vermont softly, nodding toward the new boy.
“No.”
“West Virginia. That’s him, Dad.”
West Virginia stared coldly back. The fighting in the background sounded distant.
“Then… Virginia…?” America knew Virginia, she had that gold hair and that tall, slim figure, and such proud posture, and this boy only had the same way of standing.
“There’s still a Virginia.”
“But Virginia —”
Vermont didn’t say anything, but America understood.
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