As the Seasons Change

Say Goodbye, Norway

New chapter!
Finally, time for character pain, yay!
~Sergeant Leaf
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"Let's go in!" Denmark shouted excitedly and ran up to the door of Norway's house and turned the knob, pushing the door open easily and it creaked loudly. His black boots thudded the wooden floorboards as he charged inside and he pirouetted around, taking in the blank surroundings. "Come on you guys!"

Reluctantly, Iceland followed in after Norway. "You left the door unlocked...?" Iceland mumbled to himself with clear suspicion, as they walked inside the house. Norway's house would look new to anyone who hadn't been in it before, but it had that nostalgic musty smell lingering around in the air that one would find in their grandparent's house. Iceland kept glancing about suspiciously, taking note of the frown on Norway's face, it was like he was thinking quite deeply about something. Something...important. Iceland didn't know what that might be, and he didn't want to know. He just wanted to know what was going on with his older brother today. The way the Norwegian had been acting was peculiar for sure, no doubt about it.

"So, what's for dinner, Nor?" Denmark's voice brought Iceland back down to Earth, and he shook his head trying to collect his disturbing thoughts. 'Get your head outta the clouds, me..' He scolded himself, and shook his head once more.

"I'm not in the mood to make anything extravagant, understand that now, Dane." Norway said, going through the cupboards looking for a suitable dinner. Denmark nodded, "To be honest, I'd be fine with just some smørbrød."

"Fine then, I'll make that."

"...um, I don't think I'll be having anything."

Two heads turned towards the voice, Denmark and Norway. Iceland bit his lip, he wasn't about to be pressured into eating however. "What's wrong, Ice? You love smørbrød. It's as simple as you are!" Denmark replied. Norway hit the Dane on the head, "That is no way t' talk about Iceland." He said, crossing his arms over his chest, though looking towards the Icelander with a concerned expression. Maybe the over-attentiveness Norway usually portrayed towards Iceland was supposed to be reassuring, but Iceland found it rather...threatening somehow. "Are you not feeling well, lillbror?" The Norwegian asked. Iceland managed a humourless laugh. "You could say that." Oddly enough, the moment the prospect of a dinner had come up, he had felt his stomach twist into knots, and the feeling, it didn't go away, making the Icelandic quite irritated.

"You can go take a rest upstairs if you'd like." Norway suggested, motioning towards the stairway across the hall. Iceland nodded, "I'll do that."

With that, he walked over to the stairs, looking over his shoulder only once when Norway told Denmark to wait in the living room until dinner was ready. He wondered if he should spy, no, not spy, he'd only be...observing Norway to...to make sure he made the sandwiches right. Bit he decided against it, if Norway were to catch him...well, he wasn't sure anymore what might happen. He headed up the stairs, holding on to the rail as his black boots clunked up them, and stopped at the very top. Which one was his room, again?

Ah, right, it was to the right.

He entered his old room, and sat down on the bed with a sigh of relief, taking off his boots and throwing them to the side as if it were his own home. Iceland tried to relax, but his mind raced with many thoughts. He just couldn't understand Norway's sudden switch in behaviour, it was too weird.

He was stumped, but more than that...he felt trapped.

Denmark sat down, and scooted his chair into the kitchen table. "I'm not your maid, you know. Get your own sandwich." Norway said, as he sat down as well. Denmark sighed and stood up, back to the same old same old. He went over to the counter and grabbed a sandwich, jamming half of it into his mouth before he even got back to his seat.
"W'wth'is! Rlg'd! Bt'rE'nf!"