~Jamaica~
Jamaica sighed to herself and looked out the window in the conference room, long slim fingers patted a guitar that has definitely been with her through the years. Smooth mocha painted skin stretched over a lean body complimented by generous curves while she balanced one of her many dreadlocks between her nose and full lips, her brown eyes lazily scanned the room and drank in the faces around her. She was very happy that she had features that set her apart from some of the other countries, most of them were blonde, almost all of them were pale, and, of course, male. To be perfectly honest sometimes Jamaica had a hard time telling the ones she didn't talk to a lot apart, until they opened their mouth and a distinctive accent flowed out, obviously. Her brown eyes shifted to a loud blonde with piercing blue eyes that sheltered behind thin framed glasses, he was loud and obnoxious and fairly annoying; the glasses seemed to be the only physical thing that separated him from the others.
"America, you bloody wanker, why are you making all the important decisions by yourself! We call these conferences for a reason, not just to hear you babble on mindlessly!" An angry Englishman objected, Jamaica shifted her eyes to him and never ceased to pat her guitar. He had choppy blonde hair (of course) and his green eyes held anger towards the loud speaker. Her brown eyes shifted higher and a smile danced on her lips. His eyebrows. He was one of the few people Jamaica could instantaneously recognize and all because of those….eyebrows…Jamaica was suddenly giggling to herself fairly loudly. The two bickering men looked at her questioningly, she waved them off.
"Dun mind me, mon, I jus' thought of somethin' funny is all. Please continue." She giggled, feeling laughed at they both settled down and the meeting continued, and by meeting continued America babbled on and England would take the occasional sip of tea while rolling his eyes at the American. Jamaica mostly looked out the window and glance about the room and pay attention to her guitar but sometimes her eyes would flutter back to England's eyebrows and a consistent smile would tug at her lips.
When the meeting was done England had gotten into five other arguments with America and had been the first one to leave, Jamaica loitered around mostly and sat outside playing on her good old rough wood guitar.
"Ve~, Jamaica you play-a really really good!" Italy exclaimed as he and Germany passed by, Jamaica smiled at him, she always thought he was a really kind country, also he was very stupid but kind all the same.
"Tanks Italy, I could teach ya how to play, if ya wish." She offered, he lit up and tugged at Germany's sleeve.
"Germany you should-a learn something from Jamaica too! She knows-a how to play a lot of instruments-a really well!" Italy prompted, Jamaica cupped her cheek and looked away.
"Stop, if ya keep sayin' that I'll blush." She laughed, they talked on for a few minutes until Italy realized it was getting close to three and Germany had to take him home for Siesta. Jamaica had noticed she should probably get home too but she didn't much like to stay home so she loitered around a little bit more. Back inside the conference room she wandered around it and traced little circles with her finger on the desk, back out in the hall she had a feeling creep up her leg. She swiftly turned around and jogged down the hall following the cold feeling, she came to a door with a purple haze coming from underneath, she swallowed audibly because she knew what that was. Jamaica slowly opened the door and stepped inside, the air itself seemed to be thicker and heavier. She felt something inside her smile at its familiar presence, pushing down the past she watched as England read from a book and poured potions and powders into a jar. The pouring was unsure as he checked and double checked the book, Jamaica watched him furrow his eyebrows together and begin to hesitantly pour a blue powder into a mixture of blue and green potions. Jamaica knew that one and what it'd do.
"Stop!" She couldn't help but rush forward.
~England~
England jumped when he heard Jamaica's accent interfere with his potion making.
"J-Jamaica what are you doing in here!" He asked trying to keep a composed voice, she pushed him aside and waved her hands over the fumes that emitted from the jar.
"Stoppin' ya from makin' a huge mistake, ya don't mix cryosin and gintia with prolistik powder, it'll make ya annoyin'ly clairvoyant an' you dun want that." She assured, he watched her clean up potions.
"You know magick?" He asked, watching her and she looked like she was in a familiar environment. Jamaica nodded then stopped and shrugged.
"Well, I guess I do. I'm a Shaman, or Witchdocta, or someting. There are too many titles nowadays." England watched her smile with reminiscence in her big brown eyes. She flipped through his book with a hand smaller than his own, he ran a hand through his hair and scratched his chin.
"How long have you been doing magick?" England couldn't help but ask, he's never met anyone else that knew about potions and magick. He wondered if he should take her to his house and see if she can see "mythical creatures" like he can.
"Evah since I was born I've been brewin' somethin'. Mai big brotha Africa taught me, he's the oldest out of almost all of us an' he sure knows his stuff. What spell were ya doin'?" Jamaica asked, England blushed slightly and flipped back to the original page then pointed to a spell.
"A fairly complicated one, for America I wanted to give him nightmares a week at least. Bad enough for him to wet the bed like he always used to when he was under my wing." England explained, Jamaica studied him then smiled and grabbed several bottles.
"I'll show ya how to make it." She more demanded than offered. England watched Jamaica grab bottles and powders and pour them without giving the book a single glance. She was like a chef that's cooked so much that they have the measurements burned into their brain, but with magick it's different you could use the same ingredients but how much or how less you use can make it a completely different spell.
"You don't measure?" England asked warily, she shook her head and he watched her knead the mixture then stretch her fingers.
"Nah, I did this enough to know what to do and what not to." Jamaica wiped a sweat covered tan brow with the back of her hand and smiled with a melancholy gleam that England could recognize in the mirror when he thought of his past as a pirate.
"Less than favorable past?" He asked, she stopped suddenly and nodded before resuming to knead the mixture.
"Long story, bad endin'. Do ya want it in a liquid or solid?" She asked, England thought about it and chose liquid. The end result was a purple mound of clay but when melted it turned green and thick. Jamaica poured it into vile and swallowed of nervousness before she handed it to him.
"Are ya sure ya want to do this?" She asked, England smiled and took it from her.
"I'm sure, don't worry about me." He assured, she looked at the ground and mumbled.
"It's not you I'm worried about…" He looked at her.
"What?"
"Nothin', mon, I uh gotta go I'll see you at the next conference." She smiled before hurrying out the door. Drat, he wanted to take her to his place so he could see if she'd be able to see his friends. Oh well, perhaps at the next conference.
~Next Week~
England found America later that day and slipped the concoction in his soft drink and today was the day of the next world conference and for the first time in a long time England was excited to go. He entered the room with a big smile, he looked around the room and found America laying with his head down with his hair in a mess. England came up to him and patted his shoulder, America almost jumped a foot in the air then picked up his head to reveal large bags.
"Dude don't do that, I've been having the weirdest dreams lately." He explained, England inwardly smiled but on the outside he frowned.
"Sorry about that old boy." England smirked, a loud yawn came from the doorway and Jamaica stumbled in. She was wearing a half-shirt and shorts with purple bunny slippers, England, and other countries watched her awkwardly as she sat down and laid her head on the table across from America who chuckled.
"At least I'm not the only one with nightmare troubles, we've been helping each other this whole week." America breathed into the desk.
"Yah mon, brothas by burden." She didn't bother to pick up her head but somehow she and America successfully fist-bumped. England looked at her again, a flat stomach and smooth skin, long legs with slight muscle definition. Japan walked in and saw her, he practically went into a fit, which is a lot for the calm natured man.
"J-Jamaica-san, you must put clothes on immediately t-this isn't decent." He stammered, she waved him off.
"These are mai pajamas, plus mai clothes are all the way in my country how sad." She murmured to the table in a sleepy hazy.
"E-England-san, Hungary-san, can you please help me change her into proper attire?" Japan almost begged, Hungary moved to help him and England hoisted her on his back. Her breath wafted across his neck and her skin was softer than it looked, he kept his hands on her thighs to keep her against his back and he subtly ran one thumb back and forth. It's like bloody silk... his thoughts trailed, when Hungary took her into a separate room to change Japan said he'd get her and America some coffee. England sat down in a chair outside the room and looked at the wall. What was Jamaica having nightmares over, then all of a sudden he remembered something he'd seen when he first started to perform magick. 'Anything negative you inflict upon people will come back at you tenfold.' That made sense but why wasn't he affected? England remembered back to when they were making it…no…when she was making it, she even kneaded it with her bare hands. But why would she take the fall for him, he was the one that wanted to hurt America not her.
~Jamaica~
In the room with Hungary Jamaica was being stripped and re-dressed by Hungary, she was being gentle but Jamaica hadn't been able to have a wink sleep since the night she'd helped England with that potion for America. Every time she'd close her eyes and doze off….that would come up, the night repeated itself over and over in her mind when she was awake but the dreams were so much more vivid! Jamaica watched Hungary go to the door when somebody knocked and took the cup of coffee to Jamaica, who sipped it and hoped that it would help unlike the other coffee at her place that made her even drowsier. When Hungary placed a dress on Jamaica she went to the back to zip it up, she stopped abruptly.
"Jamaica, where did you get this scar?" Hungary asked curiously, Jamaica went cold and stared into the cup of black liquid. Jamaica knew what scar she meant it was one of the only ones she had.
"I may not have gotten in a fight in a while but I'm a country an' I still had war." Jamaica explained, but Hungary continued.
"This isn't a war scar, trust me I've had tons of those it looks more like—" Hungary was cut off by Jamaica's sudden shaking.
"P-please, let's not talk 'bout it an' keep it a secret…" Jamaica asked watching tears fall innocently into the boiling coffee. Just like that one time. Like that one time…
~End of Chapter 1~
That was the first installation of In My Shoes. I know I said I'm going to still introduce countries not used in Hetalia but wait I have to get the ball rolling first! What do you guys think happened to Jamaica? Please Review they take less than a minute and make me smile the whole day. Thanks for reading.
Peace, Love, Peanut Butter.