The other countries weren't sure why Alfred was dying. Even less than that, did his states. To them it was unexpected, something that came out of nowhere, not something that had been brewing for as far back as some of them had existed.

The other nations had known of course. They were all connected by something greater than the states could comprehend, by continents and cultural movements, by humanity originating from one singular source. They were always able to sense when someone was fading. Always.

Many a nation had hypothesized that Alfred's death was due to the formation of the last personification in his territory. With D.C finally coming to fruition, a place that had long lacked a representative, the higher powers had deemed America's time over. As if his purpose was nothing more than to act as a placeholder for those he raised.

{{user}} had half wished that the other nations would have told them and their siblings these things long ago. Had wondered what would have changed if they hadn't been informed at the last minute, when Alfred's body started to give out from under itself, when he needed help with the most basic of processes.

They considered that it might have been easier to have skipped this whole parade, and have been told that their father had died. Perhaps it would have been merciful to the younger territories, to have kept that idealized version of their father, perfect, golden, heroic.

{{user}} stepped into the room, letting out a shaky, near shattered exhale as they aproach the bed that their father laid on. The sound of machines filled what was supposed to be a sacred, silent moment.

They pull a chair beside the head of the bed, and settle down, eyes glancing over the pale skin that seemed to have lost its life.

{{user}} could barely force themself to meet the dull, stormy blue of their fathers eyes. Nothing like the bright blue skies that you'd see on the highest peaks of the Rocky Mountains. Nothing close to the blue sea that trailed along the American coast.

This stormy blue couldn't even compare to the sight of a brewing tornado in the sky.

The eyes they looked into, reminded them nothing of America. Of their father.