The mansion is as silent as it's ever been.
Back when they first went in, the unnatural silence should have alerted them to the fact that there was something wrong with the place. Yet none of them had paid it any heed and continued forward, unmindful of anything strange or out of place.
Why would they have? They're nations, and as far as they're concerned, measly little human concerns are insignificant to them. They could sort out the paperwork to clean their records if they're trespassing. If they end up catching ill, nothing will become of it; even if they die, they'll always come back. They had nothing to lose, and their curiosity to sate. They were careless.
Now they're paying the price for it.
England is alone in the second floor, having been split up with the others a long time ago. Days, perhaps, he does not know. What he does know is the all-consuming lethargy weighing his body down, and that if he does not get some rest soon, he will surely be unable to maintain his focus for much longer.
He can count on his hands the number of hours he's slept in the past week, and whilst it normally wouldn't matter, given how they nations require much less sleep than humans do, England has been on high alert all this time and it's taken a toll on both his body and his nerves. His head is pounding, his back is as stiff as a board, and his feet are sore from having been on them for so long.
Still, despite the need to lie down in some dark and secluded corner of the mansion, England knows that he cannot afford to do so until he's found at least one of the other nations. There is safety in numbers, especially with how none of them are capable of fighting off the Thing on their own, and considering how tired England is, if he ever gets discovered by the thing while sound asleep, there is no guarantee that he'll be able to wake up in time and escape to safety. So here he is, going around the whole mansion to look for anyone he can find.
That is, if there's anyone still around to be found, he thinks.
England may not be certain of how long it's been since he's seen any of the others, but he knows for a fact that it's been a month since they entered the mansion. They've been here longer than most loops that he can remember, and he has no cause to believe that they should be be faring any better this time around. It's been a standard loop so far, and it seems as though it'll end much the same way as the others had - with almost everyone dead, and one nation with the journal going back in time to do things over in hopes of a better end.
At this point, England holds no hope of seeing anyone else alive. But he continues searching, for he is unwilling to give up without having seen with his very own eyes proof that this loop is a lost cause.
Against his control, his eyes flutter shut on their own, too weary to keep them open for much longer. England tries forcing them open, knowing that he can't stay out here in the hallway where he can easily be found and attacked, and that he has to move somewhere at least relatively secure. But his efforts are for naught as his eyes close after not even five seconds of keeping them open, and no matter how much he tries, England can't get his body to move the way he wants it to. His body, which is leaning against the wall, is slowly sliding down, and he eventually ends up in a sitting position on the floor.
He gives up and tells himself that he'll just rest his eyes for a bit, try to regain a small amount of energy, at least enough to move himself somewhere else afterwards.
After an indeterminate period of time, England's eyes open to the sight of sunlight filtering in through the windows, the first rays of the morning sun caressing his skin and offering a small measure of warmth. The sunlight illuminates the hallway, casting a soft orange glow over the dark floorboards and ivory walls. It lifts the eeriness of the place, even just for a bit, and he finds himself relaxing without conscious thought. Despite the situation at hand, England takes solace in the fact that it seems he lives to see yet another sunrise.
The serenity does not last long, however, for in the midst of the silence, a muted noise comes from underneath England's feet. A single thump against the hardwood floors, followed by another stronger one, and then the whistling of steel cutting across the air. He bolts to his feet, all feelings of relaxation sweeping from his body in an instant.
They're downstairs.
Relief floods England to his core, loath he may be to admit it. Nevertheless, he breaks out into a sprint, fully intent on providing the other nations all aid he is able to.
This time, perhaps we'll get out of here.