"And thus, Wenstia, my very own micro-nation, is born!"
I wasn't really expecting much, no flare of trumpets or anything. This wasn't a big project with lots of people and funding and planning. It was a mini pet project of an Italian-British-German-Spanish-American high-school home-schooled student whose favorite uncle had died and left her with his sailboat. It was nothing.
Wait. Sorry. That was confusing. So yeah, back up. I'm Alyssa Oberti, sixteen year old well traveled high school student. Well, high school aged student. My parents are Italian, though I was born in Britain. When I was 6, we moved to inland Europe, to Germany. Languages came easily to me, though, to be fair, I was a child. After I had a good grasp on conversational German, my parents snapped me up outside of school to tutor me in languages they learned as they traveled the continent after their marriage. That naturally meant Italian, with predictable additions of Spanish and French. Then came Germanics to go along with our country of residence. That meant Dutch and Hungarian. By that time, I was ten, and we picked up house and moved to Spain.
I didn't leave behind any friends, my parents tutoring sessions along with my supposedly annoying tendency to randomly speak in other languages assured that. Spain was nice, but it was hot enough that most of my time was spent indoors. By this point in my life, I had spent so much time learning languages that I became interested in history as well. Not much was being covered in school, but I often perused the local libraries and bookstores for history books. Of course, it being 2008, with myself being 11, the internet was my main source of information. I begged my parents for several months to buy me a laptop, as my family did not actually own a computer (moving every few years, after all, made a PC quite impractical). They finally gave in and bought me one for my twelfth birthday. My grades in school plummeted at a never-before seen rate. Every teacher who knew me agreed I was a lazy, uninspired student who would end up dropping out of high school and part timing forever. Well, except my history teachers, who proclaimed I was a prodigy, and thought it was a true waste I couldn't skip a grade or three. As you could probably deduce, I spent most of my time learning new languages and studying history.
I would find myself learning a couple Nordic languages (Swedish and Danish), before moving to east European. I started with Russian, a terrible idea on my part. Staying with the same alphabet for so many languages, made Cyrillic a nigh impossible subject. I managed, somehow or another. By the time I had a basic idea of those three, I was 14. Soon thereafter, I had started on Belarusian (so as not to waste my newly acquired Cyrillic skills), and Polish. Also, a momentously awful idea. I pointedly avoided learning how to write it. Or read it. Shortly before my 15th birthday, my parents pulled me out of school, recognizing my passion for language and history and only grudging acceptance for the need of anything else didn't quite fit with standard school learning. They soon realized how far out of their depth they were and sent me away to America to live with my Uncle.
My uncle, Jason, was intriguing on a level I had never encountered before. I loved my parents, yes, but they, And every other adult I had interacted with, simply didn't get kids on the level he did. Of course, this was likely a good thing, as Jason was just about the most infuriating person I had ever met. He acted like a thirteen year old at most times, and the rest, he acted eight. Well, that's a slight exaggeration, there was the odd occasion where he would act his proper age, and when I could get him to be serious, he gave great advice, and was quite smart. He helped me like no single person ever had in my pursuits of knowledge, and even helped me strengthen my skills in math and writing. I was soon declared a lost cause, though. I knew enough about writing to be able to write important documents, and enough about math to do taxes, so Uncle Jace, as he insisted I call him, stopped trying to force the information into my head. Having done that, he coached me on his own specialty, Asian languages. They were far different from any language I had learned thus far, and so I had some trouble picking them up. But, a year later, I was sixteen, and well on my way to having a preschooler's comprehension level of Hindu, Chinese, and Japanese. He often took me on his boat, and forced me to talk with him, only in one of those languages, without benefit of Wi-Fi, dictionary, or outside interpreter. Oh, how I loved him. Life was good, I had a good family, good food, fast Wi-Fi, no school, little stress, no angst. I was a well-kitted out teenager, in all regards. And then Uncle Jace died.
—End of Prologue—
Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. W-wait, why is there no strikethrough to make that actually funny.
Haha, well... a new undertaking, thiiiss should end well~! No, but really, I am so sorry about my other projects. I have just hit a block that I cannot get past on those two, so I've taken up some new ones. Hehehe... sorry. orz. A couple of notes really quick, before I go.
I realize I have given Alyssa an absolutely insane number of languages she knows. She is nota genius. I have tried to compensate by making her shaky at best in math and language arts (a hard thing to give a name to when the chapter mainly revolves around language), and let's just say there's a reason I didn't mention science. Also, she is notfluent. The only ones she can even hold a conversation in are English, German, Italian, and Spanish. AKA, the ones mentioned in the beginning. The rest, she has about a preschooler's comprehension level. Still very impressive, mind. Other than that, Alyssa's father is Italian all the way through, while her mother's family is from America. Thus, Jason is her maternal uncle.
Ah,besides this thing that you can tell what it's about, I have a Detective Conan story in the works, as well as an Avenger's one...Probably never to be uploaded, but the idea exists.
Welp, Alder, out!