Her stomach clenched with anxiety, though she didn't want to admit that she was a little bit nervous. Her big brother,
Ivan, put his arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, little sister, you'll be fine, da? The only things you have to worry about are the beginning-of-conference party games. Those can get a little out-of-hand..." he said, blushing at the memory of last conference's game of spin-the-bottle, obviously suggested by France, the resident pervert. "Oh, are they bad...?" Ivana queried unsurely. "You'll see. Just don't be surprised if no real discussion gets done..." was his mediocre reply.
Ivan held the door open for his little sister as they walked in. Surveying the room full of nations, Ivana turned and looked at her brother. "Where do we sit?" Ivan motioned to a spot near his Baltic servants. Ivana was familiar with Raivis, Toris,
and Eduard, who represented Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia, respectively. Her brother had a pretty bad track record with torturing them both mentally and physically, and it had gotten so bad as of late that Raivis would start to have panic attacks whenever Ivan was near. Ivana took a seat next to Toris, who was quiet, and the easiest of the three to get along with. Ivan sat between Raivis and Eduard and pressed down on the Latvian boy's small head, and a distinct crunching sound could be heard. [Cervical Vertebrae FTW.]
A young man with golden hair and shining blue eyes suddenly leapt from his seat. In an abnormally loud, obnoxious voice he said "Alright, guys! This world conference can now begin! First, we'll play a couple of games to loosen up and get to know eachother a little better! May I suggest - TRUTH OR DARE, DUDES!" There was a general murmur of agreement with several sharp cries of protest mixed in.
"I'LL TAKE THAT AS A TOTAL YES, DUDES! I'll start - England, truth or dare?"
he shouted. A blonde, irritated looking man with crazily huge eyebrows looked up and groaned. "Fine, America. Truth."
"Okay, British Dude! What kind of underwear are you wearing now?" England sighed. "Flying Mint Bunny thong..." he muttered under his breath, causing the other man, whom Ivana now assumed must be America, to collapse in a fit of hysterical laughter.
England looked up. "Okay, France. Truth or Dare?" An older man with a perverted child molester-esque smile on his face laughed.
"ONHONHONHONHON! Dare, of course~!" "Okay, go and lick Russia." England dared him. Ivan became surrounded by his famous "Kol" aura. France strolled up to him and licked his cold cheek, instantly crumpling like Spongebob when he tried Gary's "most important meal of the day". "Okay, since France will not may speaking for a while, may I take his turn, please?" Ivan said in such a kind, yet menacing way that no one denied him his turn.
"Okay, my little Raivis, truth or dare?" he smiled, turning to the boy he was currently squishing. "D-d-are, M-m-ister R-r-ussia..." the unfortunate Latvian boy stammered. "Okay, you go wear the 'special oufit' for the rest of the conference, da?" Ivan cackled. "N-n-o! I-i d-don't w-w-ant t-to...p-please...h-ave m-m-ercy..." Raivis sobbed.
Ivana blushed, remembering the 'special outfit'. Though she refused to admit it, she secretly hoped that he would wear it. Her brother gave the boy such a kol-tastic look that he actually whimpered like a puppy that was just stepped on. He scampered off to put on his outfit, while Ivan just smiled. When Raivis came back, he was wearing a short, frilly maid outfit. Ivana blushed madly at the moe-ness of it all. The Latvian boy's sad blue eyes glittered with tears as he started to cry and the entire conference room was suddenly filled with sighs of cuteness. Really, it's a pretty sad day when a 15 year-old boy can invoke such a reaction.
"Okay, my little maid, your turn, da?" Ivan smiled. "O-okay. T-truth o-or d-dare, u-uhm" he stuttered, indicating a guy with white blond hair with barettes shoved in an 'X' in his bangs. "I-i f-f-orgot y-your n-n-ame, s-orry..." "It's Lukas. But you, Miss Maidy-kins, can refer to me as 'Master Norway'." said the mysterious man. "And by the way, I choose truth. It's only sensible." "U-understood, M-ister I M-MEAN, uh, M-m-aster N-norway...W-what is that f-f-f-lying g-g-g-green t-t-hing b-behind y-you?" Raivis managed to say between sobs. "Oh, him?
That's just Zumomo, the Norwegian Troll spirit that I like to keep with me in case of...emergencies." Master Norway said absentmindedly.
"So, it's my turn now. Onii-chan, Truth or Dare?" A boy with white hair and purple eyes turned to face him angrily. "I choose dare." he said.
"Ok, onii-chan. I dare you to take a girl your age and successfully seduce her. And if you fail the dare, which you will, you have to call me onii-chan in a sweet voice 100 times. So I get to watch you fail at flirting and then be called big brother 100 times. It's perfect." Lukas said happily, waving his arms as if he were conducting an imaginary orchestra. The white haired boy blushed as red as a tomato, causing Spain to spin around like he was on drugs. [BadTouchTrio-on-drugs-HECKYAY] "Okay. I'll do it. You'll see. I won't have to call you Onii-chan. Okay,
who's my age? You guys all look like you're in your twenties. Any seventeen year-olds here? Eighteen year-olds? Anyone? Ivana really didn't want to raise her hand, but Ivan yanked it up into the air anyways.
Lukas got the camera, shoved Ivana and the white-haired guy into the closet, peeped the lens through the keyhole, and pressed record.
This was gonna be comedy gold.
