first; ur here next; https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1278955504/ *Written from Pakistan's perspective* I straighten my dupatta, clear my throat. I've been in this SAARC meeting for the past hour, and I haven't even been asked my opinion in the matter. There's an unknown force hitting against the UN's forcefield. It's not a mortal human, as human's can't even see it. It's a nation. But not one of us. SAARC ruffles his papers, adjusts his golden-rimmed glasses. "I believe we are finished then?" Murmurs and nods around the table. SAARC nods. "Meeting adjourned." I nod, sliding my bag over my shoulder, head out the door. I turn, too occupied by my own thoughts to notice that I walk into an empty room. Dark mist surrounds me. Every instinct screams at me to leave the room, but I just squint, take another step forward. India taught me to not be afraid of the unknown. He said to embrace it. The dark mist curls around my fingers, fills my nose, my mouth. I can't breathe. I claw at my throat, fighting for air. Air. Not this mist. I try to scream, but the door closes and locks. No. My eyes roll back in my head, and I drop to my knees. The mist escapes me, seeps into a vent on my right. "India," I croak, crawling towards the door. That's really the first word that escapes my mouth. "He won't come," A cold voice snaps behind me. I've heard it before. The British accent. The icy tone. No, no, no. NO. This can't be happening. I get up, desperately yanking at the doorknob. "INDIA! SOMEBODY! HELP!" I scream, banging on the door. Funny how the only name I can think is his. I can hear footsteps on the other side. "Paki...?" He asks, uncertain. "YES! HELP! PLEASE!" Panic, panic, panic. The door bangs open, and his eyes widen at something above my head. His hand flies to his belt, to the g*n he carries everywhere. He aims it with a shaking hand. Wait, shaking? The g*n flies from his hands, and into the wall. Oh, what the FU- I feel something hit me from behind, and let out a scream. "BROTHER!" India's eyes widen as he lunges at me. I can hear flesh hit flesh, and a grunt. My perpetrators' grip loosens on me, and someone else's replaces it. "It's alright. It's okay. I'm here. India's here. Your brother." I can hear him murmuring into my ear a split second later as my brain fails to process what happened and everything went so wrong so fast. I slump against him, my eyes sliding shut. What if he tries to hurt me again? It'll be okay. Because India's here. My brother.
so lemme give you the lore!! :D TW; disturbing stuff ahead So basically, there are two brothers. Maratha and Mughal. Mughal is married to Gupta. (and yes, all these ppl are empires, if the names sound familiar) One day, Mughal goes to pray. BE (British empire) encounters him, and attempts to strike a deal with him, his land for money, but Mughal declines. BE creeps up n him while he prays and beheads him. At home, Maratha asks Gupta where he is, and she doesn't know, she replies. She goes out to look for him, finds BE instead. BE pretends to be heartbroken at Mughal's death, Gupta doesn't know he killed mughal. BE takes Gupta, and she's gone too. lets just say he diddles her. Maratha figures out what happened. Gupta is gone. He sees Mughal's blood smothering the marble of the mosque he was praying in. He goes to try and find Gupta, but BE kills him next by stabbing him discreetly in a crowd. He and Gupta have a child. The British Raj. India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. India dismisses the mention of his father. Bangladesh's face darkens and he mumbles that he doesn't talk about him much. Pakistan's face pales in fear. Only one of them was reincarnate with the memories of their mother (Gupta). And that one is Pakistan. India has the scars of BE's abusive nature over the Raj. Bangladesh developed the Raj's meekness. Pakistan has the memories of the Raj's creation. All three of them resent their father. "Step-father." - I "Real father?" - B "Deny it." - P paki be calling bs on TS and I genuinely cant blame him
