Night's an interesting time. Her brother, the Day, orderly and predictable, is easier to figure out than his sister. The Day is a German. He has a way of doing things, this way rarely changes. Even if someone died, even if your life has been ruined, the Day is still as it was yesterday. Everyone unaffected is still as they were yesterday. They're all working, all taking care of responsibilities, all keeping up with obligations. That's the way of the Day. You can list off the actions of the Day.

Then comes the youngest child, Evening. Evening, the Hermanita of Night. Personifying the time of relaxation, of light amusement, of the time after the German. The Evening is an Italian. Glowing with potential, though she is content settling as a second to her Hermana Grande. It would be much more of a challenge to note the tasks that could be pursued in her time than her brother's.

Dawn is the oldest sibling, the least feisty of them all, has been shed of his opportunities with age of time. Nearly only the ones encompassed in sleep, at least partly, roam his time. The most fragile, only the resilient are able to consciously embrace the beauty of the hours he possesses. The minutes of dreams sit as his frequent companions. With time and absentmindedness, we've forgotten what lays with Dawn. Dawn is the Ancients.

And Night, the greatest of them all. The most beautiful, the most entertaining, the life of our lives. The third child, born of the brightest stars of the deepest skies, born of the lights, born of our energy. Born of our weariness of Day, the one who takes all the potential of her siblings and adds to it as well. The most attractive to all people, though chosen to be skipped by some of the more frail-hearted, the most enjoyed, the most thanked for, the time of the owls. The one I embrace most. The most difficult to read. Though being her frequent visitor, I have not yet found who she is. Though, thinking all this would be considered out of character for me by my colleagues.

Silence brings you to thoughts you never thought could be born from your mind, I suppose. Hell, actually, this is to be expected of me. I'm a nation, and it's not like nations are brainless children, as much as it may seem like that sometimes. We've lived longer than our greatest philosophers, we've read more than them, seen more, and we have the ability to observe. We may rarely show it, but we can be compassionate. Even those Italians, and that Frog. I'm just more of a dick on the surface than any of the others. I hold qualities that even in mortals are considered corrupt. I screw any good-looking chick, I drink too much for any reason, just name it. I do it without even realizing it's inappropriate to do in front of, let's say, my boss. It's my lifestyle. But a lifestyle doesn't define a person. So fuck whatever Eyebrows or Frogster has to say about it. They both know love, they're both older. So they're in no position to lecture me about my habits as a nation. When I get to that point, then they can lecture me if I'm the same.

The interruption of my thoughts by the driver of the cab could barely be called an interruption, it found a way to flow with my thoughts quite nicely. Belgians are extremely polite, to the extent where I feel a little bad stomping all over them the way I do. With a nice smile, the guy almost looked fancy enough to wear a suit. Too bad he's a taxi driver, and too bad he's got the Republic of Cuba as a passenger. Informing me we're here, I gave him the cash and a pat on the back. I do wonder if there's more to every polite one than that, or if they are just there to sit and smile like dolls, never aching to break free and escape.

In any case, not my problem.

The air was dry and polluted when I did step onto the sidewalk. Not nearly as dry as back home, that's a given, but it still did create a less-than-pleasurable environment for a tourist, what I label myself as when I travel, my latest "hobby." It's a troublesome thing of a hobby, since none of the nations or bosses know. Calling in sick is something I can do, with the bullshit I'm going through. Though, it's not the perfect time to be complaining about this all. Breathe in, out. Time to live, not think. Again, examine the place. Bright lights. Yelling coming from the inside of the bar in front of me. A festive atmosphere. These are the only things I'll be able to recognize by the time I'm out anyway, so it's all I need to know now. Something I can do, forget. For now, anyway. I shove the door open, a grin widening on my face when I see the switch of atmosphere. A gorgeous blonde dealing the drinks, fútbol decorating the TV screen. Yeah, tonight's gonna be good.

I sit down right in front of said blonde, earning a grin and an "'Eeeeeey, new kid~". Clear accent, damn, that's pretty sexy. I do the obvious first, with a playful tone, ask of her for fluency in Spanish. She shakes her head, grin not coming off. "Nederlands? Français? Deutsch?" "'Fraid English's our only common tongue~" So we spoke in English, in laughter, and in beer. From Flemish to Cuban, we drank, with both of us knowing I had one motive: to get the girl in bed. And she hadn't minded, it seems. I'm not gonna question any of that shit, I'm gonna grab her, make out with her, get her out of work, and I'm gonna pay for some shitty hotel to fuck her. It's all a goddamn blur of the same thing. Nothing stood out about that night. What did everything after that, as I realized I'd met a most precious entity that night.

I DID IT DEAR GOD I DID IT. After how many months of waiting, I re-wrote it. Life got in the way, and then laziness, and by the end of it all I honestly felt no desire to keep going. But tonight I kicked my ass and I wrote the last half. I'm still kind of annoyed with the last paragraph but I'll try my best to like…justify why it's so horrid by later chapters. Anyway.

I just realized the re-write is shorter than the original by like 30 words, which really isn't anything, but I was expecting this to be longer, so I am [s]very extremely[/s] a little disappointed in myself. I hope it's better quality, though. Is it? Please decide for me. I doubt I'll re-do this a second time, though.

Hermana Grande Big Sister

HermanitaLittle Sister

Nederlands Dutch

Deutsch German

FrançaisFrench

My knowledge in every language used here is non-existent so please do correct me if it's wrong. Again, critique please. I have no idea when or if a next chapter's coming out. Obscure characters are obscure on purpose. All will be revealed…I hope. Anyway. …Yeah.

Thanks to Rhady to motivate me to re-write and edit my screw-ups, hope it's better now~ Thanks to my beloved (you know who you are) for handling me and cheering me on while I was whining about this.

I need to go relax now. Thanks for reading.