(REWRITE!!)

"oww... my head..."

you grunted, sitting up as you cradled your face in your palm, your eyes scorched by the bright lighting of the room. When you moved your hand away, trying to brave the light, you realised you weren't where you last remembered being before you were rendered unconscious. Your eyes felt like they were spinning, locked on the walnut hard-wooden floorboards as your headache intensified to the point you could feel your heart beat.

Badum. badum.

pain.

all the same. You heard hushed whispers around you, the voices all sounding notably different–whether it be accent, vocabulary, or just that subtle hint of something else. You perked your head up at the noise, but quickly grimaced and retracting your head slightly as a bolt of pain blew into your cranium.

people. Loads of them. Not ordinary people, though. A lot of the faces you recognised. And not by features. They had the design of a countrys flag on their skin. They were dressed in head- to-toe in that countries' traditional garments.

a young girl steppes towards you. She had the flag of england. She was wearing a beautiful floor length dress with a built in corset, gold embellishments fixed neatly along the hems. There was something graceful about her appearance, like an untold secret of peace and harmonisation, a symphony of grace trailing with her every footstep. White, angelic wings bore her back, tipped with a fluorescent ombre of lilac and sapphire. They remained relaxed by her sides, each feather delicately splayed out. Her warm toned, light blonde hair was unstyled but still so effortlessly perfect. Her head was adorned with a tulip flower crown, each petal about to bloom. She seemed so gentle and kind...

she crouched beside you, her dress poofing out slightly, her petticoat underneath slightly visible beneath the hem of the warm but harsh dark browns.

"Well hello dear... how on earth did you make it here?"

she looked at you with golden eyes, waiting for your reaction. Her voice was sweet like cinnamon, caring and gentle. But when she got no reply, she looked up at you again.

"Well, sweetheart... we are the countryhumans–personified countries... every country you could ever imagine is here. I'm England, nice to meet you..."

her wings flapped, mingling with the sunlight piercing the window and onto her back.

"come, sit down, I'm sure China here wouldn't mind making you some tea... he has his own recipe, I've tried a million times and it still never gets old...would you like that, dear...?"