The Portal To The Guardian (Countryhumans Y/N Story)

Chapter 6: The Guardian's Place

I wonder what the characters' home aesthetic is... (also this chapter will be short)

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Countryhumans POV (just entered the Guardian's house)

The countryhumans mouths dropped as they looked around the Guardian's house (For the 1942 countryhumans, it would be futuristic, but for us author and readers, it would be considered a modern home). It was very white, with grey slabs of marble for the kitchen benches, four high chairs with no backrest lined up beside a huge table that had a sink and an oven built into it. USSR thought that the huge table was called an island bench, one of America's 'great ideas'.

There was a hemi-spheric couch that looked a bit like a giant, grey mandarin slice with a lot of fluffy blankets and plump cushions that seemed to scream 'If you rest here, you'll never leave'. In front, there was a short table with something on top of it that looked like a TV, but it was flatter, taller, and with a much wider screen. The countries were starting to realize how advanced this Wuwatha Kingdom is. 

The boys peeled their eyes away from the spacious kitchen/dining/living room to a very narrow corridor. There was a door at the end, near the end a door to the right, and three doors evenly spaced out on the left wall. The countryhumans then looked to the far right of the apartment and were stunned at the sight.

All the walls were white around the house, but a  huge window showed a massive, grand city. Tall, glass structures touched the clouds, and you could see mountains in the distance. The sun was starting to set, and blue, pink, and orange lights cast over the city, giving the area the look of a futuristic fairytale. As FI drank in the view, TR immediately wished he had a canvas and some paint so he could capture this beautiful view forever. The Guardian acted as if this happened every evening, but did pause to admire the view before resuming a weird swaying motion they were doing. Only USSR seemed to realize how high up this apartment was, well, the Guardian probably knew, but probably got used to it.

All of the sudden, a canvas, paintbrushes of every shape and size, and paints of every color imaginable, and a comfy looking chair appeared in a poof of red, dusty smoke a little distance away from the window, placed for a perfect view of the city. TR looked at the Guardian, who gave a slight nod, then TR raced towards the artistic tools, giving many thanks to the Guardian, sat down, and began to paint his heart out. The Guardian seemed to be getting better by the minute.

The Guardian then turned and walk down the corridor, only USSR watching, stopped and faced the middle of the three doors. The Guardian then lifted their right arm for the first time this evening, and waved it, their hand leveling the top of the door frame at it's highest rotational point, then returned to the Guardian's side, completing a full circle. The red words started to appear.

Third Reich

'So, that must be TR's room.' USSR thought.

The Guardian then went to the third door, at the end of the corridor, and did the same motion.

Fascist Italy

'That must be FI's room. Which means the one nearest to me would be mine.' USSR concluded.

When the Guardian had done the motion a third time, just like USSR thought, the door frame read:

Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

The Guardian then faced the countryhumans that were very much more relaxed around them, and looked at USSR, who had watched them do their special magic thingy, FI, who was still gawking at the view, and TR, furiously trying to paint the scene before the colors drain into the night. The Guardian then lifted their right arm again, producing a small notepad from nowhere, then with their left hand, wrote something on the notepad with a pen that also came from a non-existent space. Then, put the pen back from wherever they got it from, ripped the page of whatever they wrote out the book, held the paper in their left hand, the folds of the cloak's sleeve enveloping the notebook and making it disappear. After the disappearing act had finished, the Guardian calmly walked up to TR, placed their right hand on TR's shoulder, and shoved the note in TR's face. He he gently, but quickly, grabbed the note, read it, and quickly nodded, packing up his paints, washing his paintbrushes in the kitchen sink, blowing on his canvas to dry the paint, and when all was done and finished, he walked into his room, the piece of paper held between his razor sharp teeth.

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TR, the sunset it exactly the same everyday, I would know because I have lived here for over ten years. You need to have rest tonight because I already know Her Royal Highness, The Queen will have a very busy day scheduled for you. Tomorrow evening I'll make sure no one disturbs you while you paint if you tidy up and go to your room immediately. 

Thank you for your cooperation,
The Guardian

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There isn't much to say here, and I just want everyone to know that the image at the top of the chapter is NOT mine, credits to original creator!

မြန်မာပြည် ငြိမ်းချမ်းရေ

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