H'okaaaaay, so, just to clear this up before I start rambling, I really don't know where this is gonna go. As a long-running story with a plot, that is. I have many ideas as to what to put in this, but I can't see it having a climax or anything . . . just more like a little adventure of Australia showing Germany around his country. Could be a pairing by the end, and even sexual themes. Dunno. We'll see how we go.
So basically to sum it up . . . I thought this was a good chunk to start off with, and if I get enough reviews having positive feedback to encourage more I will, naturally. Just to make sure it's being read and stuff.
Hummm . . . warnings, well. There's an OC in there, my personification of Native Australia. In some of my interpretations she's Australia's grandmother figure, but I'm not sure about here. I guess so. Her name is "Nana" because it's the initials of 'Native Australia' twice, and 'nana' is also a common term in Australia for 'grandmother'. So I thought it fit. Uh, also, there's an unofficial name used for Australia which was on the list of his possible names . . There's my headcanon version as to why Australia has the bandaid across his nose, and there's also a quote I borrowed from an Aussie celebrity and comedian called "Adam Hills", where Australia talks about why Australians have rising annotations in there voice. It isn't quoted word for word, and no copyright was intended, I simply thought it would have been a suitable thing for Australia to say, and that he'd probably quote someone like Adam Hills anyway.
So yeah. This chapter is kinda all seriousface. Oh, and I don't own Hetalia, Hidekaz Himaruya does. Brilliant bloke for coming up with it.
Done. Enjoy.
Ludwig ran his right hand through his hair as rebellious strands flickered about and drifted in front of his face. The wind through the window was rather forceful, but was a soothing alternative compared to the hot and still air that dwindled within the Holden from the afternoon sun.
The air-conditioner was not an option, for it was broken. Of course.
Ludwig adjusted the borrowed sunglasses upon his nose as he surveyed the land out the wound-down window. A massive expanse, where even the horizon was further than the eye could see and, in fact, blurred out from view in some places that hills failed to rise enough. Perhaps it was due to the peculiar colour of the Blue Mountains that blended into the sky – and yes, they're the exact colour that you'd expect from their title – that Kyle would later explain was from the gumtrees that grew upon them, or maybe it was from the unbearable Summer heatwaves radiating off the sunburnt land. Who knows? All he could be certain of for now was that this continent was sure good at exaggerating its size to the viewer. Rather appropriate, considering that this was Australia. Even the person himself liked to make sure others knew just how huge and freakishly empty he was.
The view hardly changed before his eyes as they rumbled down the road. Virtually, it was the only sign of civilisation they had seen for hours – other than the occasional farmhouse or the fences that lined paddocks that often didn't even contain livestock.
"It ain't even a dirt road yet," Kyle had remarked when Ludwig had made this comment.
It was such a beautiful country in its own way, and Ludwig admired Kyle for maintaining such a piece of land and to keep it so tidy and untouched. It gave Germany a very relaxed wash through his mind. No paperwork, no boss, no Prussia. Just them, the road, and the sky.
Such a feeling also brought on a light sense of agoraphobia to the German. So flat and so wide . . the tallest things were the gumtrees and the rolling hills they stood upon. The sky seemed to swallow everything – the cloudless, solid sky – for there was nothing to break its continuous blue, all the way until it blurred out with the lineless horizon.
It made Ludwig feel lonely of all things, even with the Australian beside him, and then made him consider just how small and insignificant he was in the universe.
Such a wistful beauty. Perhaps this is why Australians had such an easy-going, yet dry humoured view upon the world.
Ludwig averted his gaze from the sagacious view to his company beside him. Kyle, too, had his window down, and casually his left hand on the steering wheel while his right elbow rested against the bottom of the window frame, his hand against the top, patting the start of the roof above it in beat to the music that was playing in the car. 'Cold Chisel', Ludwig recalled Kyle calling the band. They were very appropriate for a nation like Australia to favour.
Kyle was singing to the music rather freely, and while not always in tune his voice made the car-ride more vibrant. That was another thing that Ludwig admired of Kyle – his voice seemed to wash through your ears and vibrate down your body to rumble deeply in your chest. His trademark accent added to that, along with the rising annotations he tended to add to his statements. Ludwig, too, had commented on this, and Kyle wittily answered "that it's because all Australians are insecure, so they make everything sound like a question because they secretly need your approval". Such a degrading statement – another thing that Australians are known for; they poke fun at everyone, themselves especially – made Kyle laugh. He laughed so easily, it seemed.
. . . His laugh . . .
Ludwig was broken from his reverie at a pair of fingers snapping in front of his face.
"You awake, sunshine?" – Kyle removed his hand from in front of Ludwig back to its original position, putting his eyes back onto the road – "I'm not one to complain when people stare at me for long periods of time. Hell, it makes me feel great. But your stare can be downright creepy sometimes, y'know."
This made Ludwig blush a little – despite his best efforts – and he looked back out the window, keeping his head held high, but not pompous. He didn't allow himself to feel embarrassed and instead replaced it with something said – he wouldn't call it this, but an excuse, if you will: "I was looking at the bandage across your nose. You have always had it."
It wasn't until a moment of silence had past that Ludwig realised Kyle had slipped into thought. He turned to look at the Australian and examined his expression – Ludwig, after his many years of training and experience, could tell that this was a slightly touchy subject. He debated whether to apologise or not for bringing it up, but didn't, for Kyle spoke first.
"Gotta. The cut hasn't healed yet."
"Not after all this time? It's been centuries."
"Nah."
Ludwig was silent as he continued to watch Kyle closely, and after a moment the Australian continued speaking – feeling a need to, or more feeling that Ludwig wanted to know more.
"I had native people before Britain and his fellas wandered over, Ludwig. And you know how he was with colonising countries that already had residents, back then."
Ludwig did know, and this made him think thoughtfully. Again, he didn't speak. If Kyle wanted to he would.
"Arthur didn't fight with my people so much as ignore and disregard them, to the point where they were sick as dogs from his diseases and left to die in British-man-constructed land which was once theirs – no, the land was never theirs, they were the land's . . . No, not even that. I was theirs and they were mine. We belonged together. They were my people and still are."
Ludwig could hear the passion in his voice, but not Kyle's usual, bright passion, it was an angry passion. A regretful passion.
And still, Ludwig remained silent. This was one of his strong points; while he was quick to set his own conclusions when hearing something, he wouldn't always voice it and let the person talk and finish what they were saying – just generally respecting them having their input. He was a great person to just talk to and have listen when you needed a heavy release of something on your chest.
Kyle took advantage of this: someone who just listened, even if it was an unconscious thing.
"I loved my people, Ludwig. And while they did things within their society that I don't agree with today, they were my family and they nurtured me. They looked after me as one of them, rather than being owned by them, as so many countries and humans do today. Arthur didn't like her back then, my Nana, of my native people. He would often abuse her and treat her like a dog when he wasn't trying to teach her English or use her to navigate around the land to his advantage."
Ludwig took note of the whiteness of Kyle's knuckles upon the steering wheel – both hands now – deathly tight.
"But you see, it wasn't just him. I was young and confused, and while I often hated what Arthur made me do with my new life, my view upon my native people changed. I loved them, I still did, deep down. But I treated them differently. They weren't white, like me. They weren't the same. I even hit my Nana a few times, you know."
Kyle turned his head to look at Ludwig briefly, as if to examine his reaction. What did he expect, exactly? Disgust, disapproval? But he only met the eyes of someone who remained neutral, of no opinion . . . on the outside at least. After all, Ludwig had been there, too. He had seen similar things that Kyle had seen. While they were different situations, they both come to the same result: the killing and abuse of innocent human beings.
Kyle seemed to appreciate this of Ludwig. His stern expression remained, but something glimmered in his celery green eyes before leaving as quickly as it came. He looked back out to the road.
"One arvo a bluey between Arthur and Nana got really ugly. I could hear it form the other room, and as I peaked I knew I couldn't sit back this time. I was becoming a grown man, and I felt it was my responsibility to put reason and safety between the two people I adored most. I ran in, not thinking about it much, and tried to pry them a part. I cursed and yelled and tugged at their arms, but within the chaos, Arthur had shoved my Nana back into the bench with the knives and she . . . lashed out with one. It was natural instinct, but I ran in to tackle her down, but Arthur was faster. He got us both and broke her leg by accident, and she accidentally got me with the knife." – Kyle pointed to the bandaid on his nose – "Arthur had convinced me back then that behaviour like that was not acceptable. That Nana didn't know the difference between right and wrong, what's acceptable in society or in the eyes of God and that what her people did and how they lived was barbaric and inhumane. He was my big brother; of course I listened to him. He was the man that knew everything back then, after all."
Cynical, bitter, spiteful . . . Ludwig found those tones odd to come from Kyle's tongue when put in serious context.
"As the years past and I grew into a strong enough bloke, I eventually no longer needed Arthur and left from his care. Nana had never forgiven me for the things I had done over the period of time Arthur had been there, and even after he left, and the cut from that fight remained. That's what this cut is, Ludwig. It's the one cut that is still yet to heal within me – how Arthur and I ruined so many generations of Nana's culture and wellbeing.
"I am past that now. In the 1970's I saw the error of my ways for many things, including how the Aboriginal people were being treated and not receiving what they deserved. They got their rights back.
"But after all this time, while we still consider each other family, Nana hasn't fully forgiven me. This cut still remains, it still bleeds, and represents how I hurt her and her . . . my people, and in result, hurt myself. I don't know when the bloody thing will ever be healed again."