I looked at them before me, France with a serious look in his ocean eye'd orbs, holding up one end of the cloth, America, having a bit of a disgruntled look. He was looking to the ground but then immeditatly looked up at me with determined eyes, peircing eyes the color of the heavens clouds holding on the other side, and Canada behind it holding it. Holding it with such a soft, kind smile and a bit flustered looking as well, probably because he put this together. The cloth they were holding up, was my flag. I didn't even know what they were up to, but it couldn't be good. I stepped closer and...
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