Perks of Being Immortal
Being a nation had its advantages, but, as it was with everything, there was an underside as well. One of the rather convenient points was immortality – concealing that immortality from unassuming citizens was another thing entirely.
"I'm tired of moving every other decade," England grumbled and glared at one of the many cardboard boxes filling his living-room. Half of them were still empty, and the ones that had already been filled with books, clothes, and various knick-knack were sealed with tape.
"Bothersome but inescapable," France, who didn't have to move in at least a decade yet, admitted and sipped his tea. It wasn't often that he drank tea, he didn't even much like it, but somehow, whenever he was at England's, he always ended up choosing tea over coffee, in spite of England offering him both possibilities.
"Yes yes, I know." England waved his words off. "But it still feels a little pointless nowadays. The world has shrunk. Before, when I moved from Brighton to Newcastle, I could be sure that no one there had ever heard of me. But now, people travel all the time and move from town to town and widen their world in the social media -" he scoffed the word out to make his opinion clear about the said phenomenon, "and you can be certain that someone, somewhere, has taken a picture or a video of you and posted it online, where anyone can see it. It's only a matter of time before someone will wonder why I look exactly the same as their friend's friend thirty years ago. Fifty years back we didn't have such a problem."
"It was much easier in the good old days," France agreed and finished his tea, wincing a little at the after-taste. A memory came to his mind and he chuckled. "Though even fifty years is not long enough ago. I remember, in the 70´s, when I was attending university, one of my acquaintances, a history major, came to me. He was so excited he could hardly breath. He had found an old photograph while studying newspapers from the time of the Second World War, and whose face had he spotted in the ranks of the Resistance if not mine? He thought he had spotted my grandfather. Later, though, I noticed that he had begun giving me odd looks. Perhaps he had found more photographs with me in it and grown suspicious."
"At least these days people aren't as superstitious as before. Do you remember the 18th and 19th centuries? Those were the absolutely worst times."
France broke into laughter. "The age of vampirism? Oh yes!"
England rolled his eyes, smiling. "Especially after the Gothic romance novels had hit popularity. Oh God. People noticed if you stayed young for too long. Trying to undo the rumours was a pain in the arse."
"More; it was impossible."
"I was at a ball one time, when some elderly lady had approached me and declared loud enough for the entire hall to hear that she was positive she had seen me several times in her father's home four decades earlier. It appeared that she was a daughter of an officer, with whom I had stood in the front line in Waterloo." England snorted in amusement. "It didn't help that he had seen me walking away from the battlefield with several fatal gunshots in my chest. That was the last time I openly joined the army – one night I woke up to my own brothers-in-arms stuffing my mouth with garlic to make sure I was human! I almost chocked."
France doubled over in laugher and wiped tears from his eyes. "Goodness,"he said. "And our own people! Makes me think of the Reign of Terror back in France, when every other citizen was sentenced to death in a guillotine. My neighbour had reported me for whatever reason, and I had been caught and executed. Can you imagine their faces when they realised I wasn't dead even when my head was rolling in the dirt? They tried to stake me, and I was lucky to make my escape before they got a pyre going."
England laughed at the imagine painted by France so hard that he spilled his already cold tea.
"It hurt like hell, though," France pointed out good-naturedly. "You should try beheading some time. Gives you a new perspective, so the speak."
"The world was so much more colourful back in the day, don't you think?" England sighed when his laughter subsided.
"In a way, yes, though memories grow sweeter with time," France responded. "But I doubt anyone will try to stake you these days even if they do suspect something."
"A pity, almost," England grinned. "I'm beginning to consider staying here after all and seeing if people will notice anything off about me – and what they would do, if they began suspecting something."
It was France's turn to sigh. "Perhaps no one would even mark anything abnormal about you. I fear that the times when people were interested in each other is far behind. In a big city like this you're invisible."
"Perhaps. Maybe I should move to the countryside after all. They would notice."
"Always seeking to shock," France smiled.
"We all have to take our pleasures where we find them."
"I can't deny that." France put down his cup and fixed England with a mischievous look. "Speaking of that..."
Packing was delayed for some more time.
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