A dull roar, screaming up behind as I cowered in my chair. I had stood up for a few moments, yelling and spitting before sinking back into my chair, reality grounding me. My legs went lip and my eyes scanned the room furiously, looking for something that wasn't falling apart in from of my eyes. I saw Poland stand stiffly and leave, Lithuania looking desperately after her. The room seemed to crumble around me as what I feared to be true hit me, each word plunging an imaginary knife into my heart. I sat with my mouth open, a gaping fish, the air strangling it as it was hauled along rough ground. My heart pumped blood to my ears until i could almost hear the sound of gunfire, the sounds of men yelling, their lives being snuffed out like candles in a strong wind. The sound of Germany declaring war. The sound of a catastrophe. The sound of Poland's death sentence. I stared wide-eyed at the wall in front of me, the delicate designs of the wallpaper taking my eyes swirling towards Germany's face, and the closed door behind which dry sobs from Poland were just audible above the shouting of the other nations. I sat numbly in my chair, my mind barley registering the dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. England shook me, his hand on my thin shoulder, yelling in that aristocrat voice of his. I didn't hear what he said, as my mind drifted to morbid thoughts and broke into tiny fragments imagining it. I thought of trenches, deep and mud-filled, men walking over the bodies of other men. I saw the brass buttons and trench coat uniforms of my men and a trampled french flag, the Fleur de Lis pounded into the muddy ground and stained scarlet. I saw my own body, pale and lifeless on the streets of my beloved city of paris. I saw my own gave,<span style="font-style: italic">'Franciene Bouvier'</span>carved in a plain wooden cross. I saw burning countryside that was once beautiful. I knew I was not the strongest nation, in terms of military power. I knew I would try however, to defend my home if things came to.<br/><br/>Germany's face was cold, a clear purpose under that mask of ice. I thought (very offhandedly as well) that a bit of sleep and a better haircut would do wonders for his face. His ice-blue eyes pierced right through me, his time to glare at me finally here. I winced and looked away, resisting the urge to hide behind a chair. There was something different in this, a formal death threat to one of our own. My long blonde hair fell in my face, all of my usual charm and wit gone in the face of this new menace. â€œYou all probably know why you have been called here." Germany had said. I hadn't. The only reason i had gotten out of bed at all this morning was because Canada, on his connect flight to the conference, had stopped in to wake me up. The bombs had begun to fall. I saw Canada and America, across the table. Their faces couldn't have seemed more different at that moment. America had his eyes set on Germany's. He glared with all the rage he could muster, fire blazing in his eyes that I hadn't seen since he fought England for his freedom years ago. Canada's face was the picture of pain for Poland, staring at the door with an expression of what looked to be agonized horror on his face. The cold in Germany's gaze didn't diminish as he turned to meet America's outraged stare. I blinked furiously, trying to keep tears out of my eyes. War was painful, serious and bloody. It was desolate, wretched and grim and I had never wanted to see another. My heart sank with me, my head hanging down to stare at the vibrant red of my dress's sash. My imagination took the crimson colour to an entirely new place, a bloodied war hospital, grim and dying men lying in bed. Blood the colour of vermillion stained the floor, a young man's body lying in it's pool. I saw the red spread before my eyes and touch my shoes, which were already bright scarlet. A wave of pain hit me as I forced myself to look away. My long blonde hair got in my face, blocking my view like a gold curtain. I fingered the indigo fabric of my dress, my eyes following the seams upwards. Memories from World War One haunted my thoughts for a few moments longer before I really looked up. I saw Japan and Russia's faces light up slightly, opportunity flashing in their eyes. My heart dropped, almost non-existent now. I wouldn't be surprised if it stopped beating.<br/><br/>(Note: I have made France's Character less creepy and female. Just an FYI. Here is a link for her face,m<a class="postlink" href="http://www.zerochan.net/240458">http://www.zerochan.net/240458</a>m)