[England] Wandering Doctor (Imperial Eagle)

[Roderich Edelstein]

The trouble with grand illusions of jumping on a ship and sailing off to see the world, Roderich thought, was that grand illusions didn't give one any idea of how to go about fulfilling them.

The wharf where he currently was, in London, several miles from his school and several days removed from graduation, was crowded, to say the least. People bartering passage, children scurrying around underfoot, was that a herd of cows? It was busier than any place he'd ever been.

The one thing he had managed right was stowing his luggage in a roped yard with several burly looking seamen. He'd produced several shining coins with the promise that both the large steamer trunk which held his personal effects, several boxes of medical supplies strapped to a hand truck, and the incredibly large crate he had brought to the port would remain where they were. "Don' worry none, guv'nor," the seaman had said, eyes gleaming at the sight of his coin, "Your lot'll be safe as kittens with me and me boys watching it."

Now he was walking along the gangways, small doctor's bag in hand (what for, did he think he was going to need to do an interview?) trying to find a ship that looked promising. Some naturally had better paint jobs than others, and a few had boards missing which looked like they may have had some other purpose. But there was no way of telling if a pretty ship had a pretty inside, or if a plain ship would be equal to his purpose.

With a sigh Roderich sat down on a unused crate, and pulled out his notepad. He began writing names of ships down. Perhaps he could go to the Port Authority and get some recommendations about where to start. Anything had to be better than wandering around waiting for someone to approach him.

[prussia]

Gilbert had heard many things about London, tales telling of it's dreary weather and even less exciting people, but he had never traveled far from Berlin. Now, he was finding that London's weather was indeed less than favorable, and this was becoming a problem for a couple of reasons. The first was that the ship's steam system was being affected by the fog, meaning that the engines would have to be re-calibrated before they left port. The second was that the damp air and lack of sunshine had put Gilbert into a rather uncomfortable case of the sniffles.

The German was intent on dramatizing this to his best advantage, and had convinced Ludwig to dock the ship because the Captain was quite certain that he was doomed to a very unawesome death that morning. Of course, short of a bad headache caused by an unholy amount of sinus pressure, the older brother was perfectly fine, so Ludwig eventually kicked him into action later in the afternoon.

So with a handkerchief tucked into his pocket, Gilbert finally skulked out of his cabin and out onto the deck. As if the fog hadn't been depressing enough, a fat raindrop fell onto his shoulder just as he began descending the gangplank, and the stuffy-nosed German finally verbalized his frustration in a string of curses that made a few of the crew members quickly turn their attentions to their work. The captain turned his attention back toward the cabins, a soured expression on his face.

"Oi, bruder! Bring an umbrella with you, ja? It's raining."

[Deutschland]

When Ludwig made the mistake of believing his brother couldn't possibly get any more annoying than he already was, Gilbert continued to prove his grumpy brother wrong. Ludwig grumbled to himself. His voice by then already hurt a little from barking extra orders to the crew due to the change in weather. Speaking of the weather, it was absolutely miserable and only added more annoyance to his already irritated mood. But then, then Gilbert just had to prove he is more of a pansy than Ludwig had hoped.

He ran his fingers through his soaking wet hair, trying to keep it orderly in his usual style. He certainly wasn't very used to this weather, and it was surprising just how rain could chill a person more than snow could. Plus, the rain made Gilbert all the more intolerable. He heard his brother whine again(or curse, whichever really. Sounded the same to him), and Ludwig gritted his teeth. He didn't want to snap at Gilbert in front of the crew. But some days that man just...well you know.

He glared at Gilbert when the albino addressed him. He angrily grabbed two umbrellas near by, and slammed one against Gilbert's chest. "Here's your umbrella, Captain. Quit being a pansy, you are not dying because of a few raindrops and sniffles." Ludwig was sure the crew was used to this sort of banter from the two of them, but Ludwig usually tried to keep their arguments on the down low. Unfortunately, he was quite loud when he argued. It ran in the family, really.

[Roderich Edelstein]

Drip...drip...

Roderich looked over his head with a look of utter disgust. Raining again, naturally. At least there was a canvas over the luggage yard so unless it started pouring buckets beyond the standard English drizzle, his things should be fine.

The Austrian hopped off his perch and put away his notebook to avoid soaking it, and shrugged into the overcoat he had been carrying along up until then. As he glanced up and down the rows of ships it was apparent that everyone else seemed keen on finishing up their business as quickly as possible and getting out of the weather.

"Tourists. You'd think they'd melt from too much rain," he muttered to himself. Granted he wasn't exactly fond of the weather either. His native land was much more pleasant, but he had to do what was necessary for the sake of his education.

A splash of water hit his glasses and his stomach growled. Lunchtime. Roderich recalled the pub he had passed a few blocks back. A bowl of beef stew could be good right now. Warm himself up, then come back to the dock when the people were out again and try to find a captain to speak with.

He started off down the walkway, pulling his collar up and ducking his head out of the rain. Up ahead, two Germans were arguing quite loudly Unfortunately, he shifted his step to avoid them just as one of them backed up, and collided with him.

"Ah!" he looked up in surprise, blinking water out of his face. "Very sorry about that, it's a bit wet and I wasn't watching where I was going. Please excuse me." Roderich made to give them a wide berth and continue on to the pub.

[prussia]

Gilbert stumbled backward a bit from having the umbrella shoved into his chest, and was just opening his mouth to utter a stuffy-nosed retort back to his brother when he was suddenly knocked slightly off balance by a body hitting his. He stumbled a bit again, turning at the apparently German voice speaking to him, and promptly froze as he got a look at the guy. Had he been aware of himself in that moment, he would have noticed that his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and that the small bird that was keeping residence in his hair was peeping wildly, hopping a bit in her apparent excitement.

However, Gilbert's mind was presently occupied with blurry flashes of memory, scenes of arguments, battles, brief friendship, and he saw the man in front of him at a piano, playing passionately and with immaculate skill.

He came back to himself in time to see the man backing up a bit and giving the pair of brothers a wide berth as he attempted to pass them on the docks, and without thinking, immediately stumbled across the dock to put himself in the man's way, arms stretched out to block his path further.

"Oi, you're German, aren't you?" he questioned, then immediately, somehow, knew this was wrong. He thought back over the man's accent, but could only hear the voice of the piano-playing, strict, annoyed man in his memory. "Nein, I meant...you're Austria. O-Or, you're from Austria. That's what I...What are you doing here?"

Gilbird was still peeping atop his head, slowly becoming wet from the drizzle that had started over the town, and the German was clutching an umbrella a bit desperately in one hand. He must have looked insane. He felt as if his head was in a sudden haze that wouldn't clear, and his mind was screaming the word Austria at him over and over. How unawesome.

[Deutschland]

Ludwig blinked. Crap, did Gil back into someone? He tried to peer past Gilbert, to see if the person was alright. Speaking of Gilbert, he seemed to be lost in his thoughts and had a strange look on his face. "...Gil?" he asked, a little bit worried. He didn't like the look on his face at all.

Before Ludwig could snap Gilbert out of his daze, he glanced at the stranger. Ludwig stopped in his tracks. The stranger was...someone he had to have known. He could feel it. But, where and how? Ludwig also formed a dazed expression, and his mind began to form obscure memories from a distant past. A pompous noble loafing off of Ludwig's hard work, sewing crude undergarments that he forced Ludwig to wear how embarrassing, infuriating know-it-all-ism even though clearly Mozart was German damn it all and-

Ludwig blinked again, forcing himself out of his stupor. What the hell was that? He awkwardly stared at the stranger, only slightly hearing Gilbert ramble nonsense about him. He took the initiative. "Er, I apologize for him, sir. He is insane. Are you alright?"

Hell, was he alright?

[Roderich Edelstein]

Was that...a bird in the man's hair? It was clearly quite excited about something, and from the slack-jawed look he was being given, that something was probably him. Great.

Not wanting to be involved in some strange case of mistaken identity, Roderich turned to go until he was body-blocked by the larger man. Without much else to do he looked up and met the other man's eyes. Red eyes.

Had he not been in perfect health at that precise moment he would have sworn he was ill, as strange, irrational dislike rolled over him in waves. Except not really dislike, more like... well, it was hard to place. This man was a bully, and it was clear he had not one bit of class, but he did appreciate music (what are you saying, Roderich, he might appreciate music but there is no way of knowing that). The Austrian couldn't shake that under some circumstances, they may have been friends.

You're Austria. O-or, you're from Austria...

At the word "Austria" his brain clicked somewhere else. Of course he was Austria! Wait...rather, Austrian. Why would he be anything else? And why did that seem so important?

He glanced at the tall blond man speaking to him, apologizing for his brother. Again, the strangest feeling. Clearly this one was strong, determined, and had half a dozen other virtues to his name, but he didn't have common sense. Always had to have someone take care of him else he throw out perfectly good things, or work himself into a frenzy without something (piano music) to soothe him. And Mozart was Austrian! They had a museum for his birthplace, and chocolates and liquor named after him! And where did that train of thought come from, anyway?

At the mention of insanity his tongue loosened. "I assure you I'm fine. Is he really mentally unstable? Perhaps you should have him looked at?" His poor overworked subconscious was content at the moment to go back to sleep while Roderich's brain shifted over into "doctor mode." He was barely an inch or two taller than the man in front of him so it was no problem to peer into his eyes. His pupils were not dilated, his eyes were focusing well despite their unusual color... Hand on his chin, Roderich's eyes darted to fingernails and hair, looking for obvious signs of dehydration or malnutrition which could bring on sudden bursts of insanity.

[prussia]

Gilbert stared, mouth opening and closing a few times as he processed first his brother's words, then those of the Austrian man. Insane? Mentally unstable? What were they...oh, Gott verdammt.

"I'm not crazy!" he blurted suddenly, lowering his arms with a scowl as Gilbird peeped and fluttered from his head, across to the Austrian's shoulder. Gilbert gaped at her in disbelief, before finally conceding with a scowl, "You traitor."

His hurt was short-lived, as a sneeze interrupted his coherent thoughts, and he rubbed at his nose with his coat sleeve, suddenly feeling very wet, sick, and...warm. Oh, Gott, he wasn't getting a fever, was he?

"H-Hey, look, I guess I mistook you for someone, or something," he pitifully attempted to wave the Austrian man away, sniffling pathetically as he opened his umbrella and propped it against his own shoulder, shielding himself from getting even more wet. He looked at the little yellow chick and whistled for her to re-join him, but the bird wouldn't budge. She nestled in against the Austrian's neck with a defiant peep, claws grabbing hold of his overcoat.

"C'mon, Gilby, let's go," he insisted, reaching for the chick, who promptly bit his finger. He stared.

[Deutschland]

Ludwig said nothing to what the Austrian had said, he was half joking when he said Gilbert was insane. Although, locking him up in a room did have its perks....

No, I don't want him to go through something like that ever again.

Wait. What?

Ludwig shook his head. What on earth was wrong with him today? "I was joking when I said that..." he said lamely. He looked over at Gilbert when he sneezed, and noticed Gilbird, his brother's companion, had left her usual nest to perch herself on the stranger. That... was very strange. Gilbird only liked a few people, and that did not include himself. And to be expected, Gilbert looked crushed. Ludwig, although it seemed like something Ludwig would find ridiculous, felt sorry for him. He knew he loved that bird a lot, and it was really no different than a pet dog, feeling wise.

But what was even stranger, was that Gilbird bit him. He raised his eyebrow. It seemed everyone was acting weird today. "Huh. She's acting strange..." again, he said lamely. The headache that was slowly getting worse must have been interfering with his ability to speak.

[Roderich Edelstein]

"It's not a problem, mistaken identities happen frequently here. It comes from being a port city," Roderich replied, trying to shake off the strange feeling of déjà vu which still had him in its grasp.

The tiny yellow bird chose that moment to leave her master's head and move to his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck and digging in his claws. That was...odd. Animals liked him well enough, but he couldn't remember any time before one had just flocked to him like he was the pied piper or something. And she...yes she did bite her owner, who was now giving her a look resembling that of a kicked puppy.

Roderich put his med bag down on the ground, careful to avoid putting it in the areas between the stones where water was starting to collect. It was reasonably waterproof, and the moisture on the leather made the Rod of Asclepius that was embossed on the side stand out even more than it had before.

He reached up and began scratching the bird on the head, and she peeped agreeably, nuzzling up against him until the peeps turned to those of outrage as he used his other hand to carefully detach her (sharp) claws. He carefully held her in both hands and spoke to her sternly as she glowered up at him.

"Now vögelchen, none of that. I don't know what you expect to gain, making friends with me but I believe your friend over there is the one who pays for your dinners, and you've upset him quite badly."

He held the bird out to the other man. "The pair of you seem to be new in the area. Are you lost? I could help you find a constable or someone to help...though by the sounds of both of you a bowl of hot stew would serve you better," he smiled, thinking of his own impending lunch.

[prussia]

Gilbert carefully but firmly accepted Gilbird back into his own hands, staring a bit dazedly at how she suddenly seemed so subdued by the man's words. The little yellow chick was certainly not acting herself, which seemed to be a running trend that day...Gilbert decided firmly, as he place the bird back atop his head, that he was going to blame it on the weather.

"Stew? Like, food?" he suddenly picked up on what the man was saying and processed it much quicker than anything else he had worked through that day. "Food sounds..."

He trailed off into a pause as his stomach growled loudly enough to finish his sentence for him. He grinned sheepishly and tugged on Ludwig's sleeve, a bit like the younger brother had done to him when they were kids.

"Oi, bruder, can we get some food? It's wet and cold and- and-" he was cut off by another violent sneeze, which sent Gilbird into an unhappy fit of peeping, before he shushed her with a wave. He groaned miserably for a moment before scrubbing at his face with a leather-gloved hand, looking suddenly exhausted. "I'd rather not deal with any constables at the moment, ja? Can you show us where to get some food, Rod-"

He paused again, realizing that he was almost about to call the man Roderich, which wouldn't have made much sense at all, since the man had not disclosed his name to them. Obviously, the weather and fever were making Gilbert crazy, and he sighed in defeat.

"Oi, what's your name, anyway?"

[Deutschland]

Ludwig perked up at the mention of hot stew. Normally, that was a quirk that only his brother had (and he seemed excited about the prospect of hot lunch), but today was especially miserable and cold so he welcomed the idea. He was about to say that he would like to go, but Gilbert interrupted him with a childish plea. He found it ironic that the Captain of the Imperial Eagle had to ask his First Mate for permission to eat lunch, but it was sort of understandable. Ludwig was not afraid to order him around or prevent him from doing something stupid.

Before Gil finished his childish and unneeded request, he let out an enormous sneeze. Which was right in front of Ludwig's face.

Uh. Gross.

Ludwig said nothing. Mostly because he didn't want to open his mouth after Gilbert showered him with snot. He settled with a death glare. Gilbert didn't seem to notice, as he turned to address the stranger again. He continued shooting Gilbert with epic hate rays as he rummaged through his pocket for a handkerchief. He slowly wiped his face, not letting his expression falter.

At the half-mention of the strangers name however, he finally paid attention to the conversation. The name that Gilbert had begun to say, Rod...something, perked his interest. He had, for whatever reason, the feeling that the strangers name was something similar. Or perhaps exactly what he was thinking.

(for those of you wondering, i will illustrate what this post looked like. Gilbert: -SNEEZE- D: Luddy: B| -wipes face- god i love skype)

[Roderich Edelstein]

Roderich raised an eyebrow. Clearly the one was in a bad way, and the other seemed in no humor to take care of him. He picked up his doctor's bag, and motioned further down the quay.

"I can certainly recommend a place, it's only a few blocks from here." The idea of going to lunch with two strangers was odd - except they didn't really feel like strangers at all, so was it therefore not strange that he didn't mind the prospect of eating with them? The whole thing was giving him a headache.

As he motioned them to start walking with him, he replied to the question, "My name is Roderich. And you two are brothers, right? What are your names?"

Wait, brothers? Where did that come from? They looked nothing alike!

The walk was not particularly long, though it seemed to get chillier and wetter by the minute as they went along. Warm stew was just the thing for him, but Roderich was a bit worried about his companions. If hot food and drink didn't make them feel better, he could always see what he could do. It seemed like sailors never had the good sense to go to a doctor when they were sick.

He led them into the tavern and was pretty sure he could see the two of them visibly thawing as they entered the warm, homey space. Keeping half an eye on them he requested they be seated at a table for three. One of the barmaids nodded and went off to clear dishes from a recently vacated spot.

[prussia]

Gilbert did visibly thaw when they stepped into the tavern, the warmth and familiarity of the place instantly relaxing him. He supposed there was something wrong if a poorly-lit, smoke-filled tavern made one feel at home, but he had never been one to question himself, not to mention...

He was a bit preoccupied thinking about the fact that, yes, the man's name was Roderich. It's not that it was a particularly common name, and Gilbert's poor, illness-ridden mind was boggled on how he could have guessed it. And the fact that the man knew somehow that they were brothers...? Something was odd, here, and Gilbert was starting to think that it wasn't just on his end.

As soon as they were seated, he settled back into a fit of sniffles, interspersed by the occasional sneeze, which he covered with his sleeve - the same damp one he kept wiping his nose on. After a moment of silence, he leaned back in his chair and heaved a heavy, stuffy-nosed sigh.

"This is much better," he sighed, a sloppy little grin spreading across his face as he propped his chin in his hand, elbow on the table.

"Anyhow, I'm Gilbert, und this is Ludwig," he punctuated the statement with a wave in Ludwig's direction, narrowly missing whacking the taller man in the face as he did so. He took a moment to look the man over, and trying to swallow down the feeling of I know you from somewhere, I know I do, made a feeble attempt at conversation. "So, uh, are you here on business or something?"

[Deutschland]

God give me strength to not punch my brother in the face.

His facial expression did not change as he followed Roderich and Gilbert, praying that Gil could feel the intense hate rays he was shooting at him. Ah, he probably couldn't. Gil was as dense as a goldfish, and he knew he couldn't pick up signals or signs like that. He's been like that since they were kids, even when Gilbert was taller than he was!

Ludwig's face immediately softened when he walked into the tavern. The warmth was simply soothing, even for the rigid and thoroughly annoyed beefy blonde. He sat comfortingly at the table, a bit of his irritation returning at Gilbert's awful manners. He stepped on the edge of his toe as a warning. How many times had he done this; correcting Gil's terrible posture? He must have done it over a thousand times and yet, Gil still persisted. He wondered if he did it on purpose, just to annoy him. And furthermore-

His eyes widened at the suddenness of Gilbert's hand narrowly missing his face. He glared daggers at his brother and snarled a "Watch were you swing that thing you god dam-" He trailed off. It would be best to not swear like that in front of a stranger. Bad taste.

Speaking of the stranger, he recalled what he had said earlier. How did he know they were brothers? That was awfully suspicious, and Ludwig was determined to find out how he knew. He nodded at the stranger. "Nice to meet you. How did you know we are brothers?" Quick to the point as always.