It was like music really, a low tone of desperation playing softly under the harsh melody of fear that wrote over the entire piece.<br/><br/>Everyone except Germany, North Italy, Japan and Russia was still yelling. England was shaking my shoulders, and I didn't even feel the impulse to hit him over his head with one of my red high-heels.<br/><br/>I felt sick. I felt horrible. Not because Felka was going to die, but because I was willing to make the sacrifice of her life if it mean my beloved France would be safe. I could see the streets of Paris burn, and fear shocked me to my core. I felt horrible for how I felt about Felka, but to paralyzed to move from my chair. I felt like the world was gone, the Parisian music that coloured my thoughts silenced by the guns of war.<br/><br/>Before I knew it I was on my feet, screaming along with the rest of them. Profanity and anger seeped into every word as I spat viciously at England, who looked strangely frightened. I backed down, only seeing now that my hands had been around his neck.<br/><br/>He took one deep breath before looking at me, very concerned, making my face flush red from embarrassment. Fear made one act irrational...and now was not a time to be irrational.<br/><br/>I slumped back into my chair muttering "Ou est ma tete?". Where was my head? What was I thinking? That was the point. I wasn't.<br/><br/>I turned back to England muttering apologies in french. "Excusez-moi, je suis desole...". Pardon me, I'm sorry. England breathed deeply, silent a the grave, or so the expression goes. America was still boiling with rage as Russia and Germany spoke in hushed tones to one another before leaving. Canada looked so distressed as the door slammed behind them that I felt a pang of sorrow go through me.<br/><br/>"They clearly have a plan...but do we?" I asked quietly, my voice trembling against my will. England immediately snapped into action, explaining how he can mobilize the British Armed Forces and starts ranting on about being prepared for air attacks. "We'll need evacuation routes, bunkers and fortification for major structures we don't want to lose. We also need anti-aircraft guns, and mobilization of as many units as possible." he explained.<br/><br/>The rest of his ramblings went to the wind as I pictured la Tour d'Eiffel and l'Arc de Triomphe in ruins...rubble made of my proudest landmarks, the stained glass windows of Notre Dame crushed. It was all I could do not to scream. Two wars in one lifetime? Wasn't one pointless war enough?<br/><br/>"-and France, you will...Franciene are you all right?" he asked, his face reminding me far to much of all the times I had fought war with him before it went soft. "Moi? Cheri I am perfectly fine." I said simply, putting a touch of fake rebellion into my voice. It was...more convincing that I had hoped.<br/><br/>"As I was saying...we have a dire situation. None of us have our armies mobilized, so we have decided..." he faded off, wincing as though he had just thought of something particularly horrible. "We have decided, that once Germany has taken Poland you will enter the country from along your border. He will be weakened. It will be...the best time to strike." he stated this in a voice that didn't seem entirely his own, as though it hurt him so badly to say it that he couldn't bear to say the words.<br/><br/>I let my mouth hang slack for a moment, feeling tears well up slightly in my eyes before turning my head away. Did they, we, have so little faith in Felka? Did we really believe she couldn't survive this? I thought of the amassed power of Germany, Russia, Japan and North Italy and winced. No. No, Felka could not survive that.