Hungary and Austria tried hard to understand him. Very hard. But he wasn’t North Italy, if he were that easy to understand.
Sometimes they exchanged words; Austria would secretly ask of what Italy was doing while Hungary was alone with the dirty dishes in the sink, and she would sigh and shake her head in the same amount of confusion, saying that once again she had not understood what the boy was thinking.
Holy Roman Empire did not occupy a small part of Italy’s heart, because he had taken the whole little Italy’s heart, and he still did in the current Italy. But post Holy Roman Empire dissolution, did Austria and Hungary ever see Italy cry?
He was such a cry-baby, the entire world must have known the fact. But now, seeing how Italy managed to stay calm and how he was able to endure the cruelty of their fates as nations—Holy Roman Empire’s fate, silently the two countries grew a tiny bit of respect to Italy.
Looked like the tiny useless country wasn’t all tiny inside.
Consequently, they started to forget the worries, started to take everything easily, and failed to notice the battles inside their object of concern. That time, with the help of less custody as Austria and Hungary were too busy in their own personal matters, Italy had gone to where his mind told him to.
France.
ーーーーーー
Dark. Dull. Those two words should be the ones that described a normal situation in every residence late after midnight. But France’s house was always luminous, completed with the glorified Baroque Music in somewhere of its ballroom. As expected of the French. Every night was party time.
He wasn’t wearing any formal or fashionable outfits one should wear in a ball, Italy did not own any of those, nor did he foresee about the party. All messy and sweaty from running, he came in his simple shirt and a pair of pants Austria bought him.
But years of knowing France made Italy know where to head, without letting himself to be seen. He did not come to attack, or do something dangerous to the citizen of France, thence he wasn't scared even if they did see him. A simple talk. Yes, Italy merely needed a simple conversation with France. A quick one at that, and he would leave.
“You got me surprised!”
Wide eyed and baffled, France exclaimed with his nonchalant attitude as he dragged his half-drunk self to anywhere private.
“I never thought you'd visit me, and did Austria even give you his permission?”
“Well, Big Brother France, no matter what, I feel like I must see you,” smiling as gleefully as ever, Italy followed behind, until they stopped in where Italy knew as France's chamber.
Re: Ethereal Threads of Fate [2/7]
Hungary and Austria tried hard to understand him. Very hard. But he wasn’t North Italy, if he were that easy to understand.
Sometimes they exchanged words; Austria would secretly ask of what Italy was doing while Hungary was alone with the dirty dishes in the sink, and she would sigh and shake her head in the same amount of confusion, saying that once again she had not understood what the boy was thinking.
Holy Roman Empire did not occupy a small part of Italy’s heart, because he had taken the whole little Italy’s heart, and he still did in the current Italy. But post Holy Roman Empire dissolution, did Austria and Hungary ever see Italy cry?
He was such a cry-baby, the entire world must have known the fact. But now, seeing how Italy managed to stay calm and how he was able to endure the cruelty of their fates as nations—Holy Roman Empire’s fate, silently the two countries grew a tiny bit of respect to Italy.
Looked like the tiny useless country wasn’t all tiny inside.
Consequently, they started to forget the worries, started to take everything easily, and failed to notice the battles inside their object of concern. That time, with the help of less custody as Austria and Hungary were too busy in their own personal matters, Italy had gone to where his mind told him to.
France.
Dark. Dull. Those two words should be the ones that described a normal situation in every residence late after midnight. But France’s house was always luminous, completed with the glorified Baroque Music in somewhere of its ballroom. As expected of the French. Every night was party time.
He wasn’t wearing any formal or fashionable outfits one should wear in a ball, Italy did not own any of those, nor did he foresee about the party. All messy and sweaty from running, he came in his simple shirt and a pair of pants Austria bought him.
But years of knowing France made Italy know where to head, without letting himself to be seen. He did not come to attack, or do something dangerous to the citizen of France, thence he wasn't scared even if they did see him. A simple talk. Yes, Italy merely needed a simple conversation with France. A quick one at that, and he would leave.
“You got me surprised!”
Wide eyed and baffled, France exclaimed with his nonchalant attitude as he dragged his half-drunk self to anywhere private.
“I never thought you'd visit me, and did Austria even give you his permission?”
“Well, Big Brother France, no matter what, I feel like I must see you,” smiling as gleefully as ever, Italy followed behind, until they stopped in where Italy knew as France's chamber.