Getting on board the whole "Letters to So-and-So" wagon. I sent a couple to Russia and Father - ahem, General Winter as Montreal, so I'm continuing that... uh, thing AS MONTREAL!

WOO.

WITNESS THE AWESOME.

WITNESS IT.

So anyway. This is just the prologue thingy. You can just send in something in letter format and I'll reply as such. There are plenty of books and shi-stuff out there in letter format! I'd name a few but I forgot the titles.

Oh, darn.

So anyway. SEND IN LETTERS DAMMIT. The West Island is bored. And yes. She is Awesome. She is also good friends with Prussia.

Could ya tell?

"Hey! This is Montreal speaking!" The teen waved her hand energetically. "Everyone's taking letters from you guys now, from Arizona to Zimbabwe and back to the awesome Russia and Father Winter - I think you call him General Winter, but I dunno why - so I've opened my digital mailbox to you!" She grinned cheekily and ducked her head at just the right moment to avoid a manicured hand aimed for the back of her skull.

"Cheeky," the older woman scolded lightly.

"Oh yeah." The teen kept grinning. "That's my mom, Quebec. She's pretty cool too but doesn't really like Ontario for some reason. I think Ottawa's pretty awesome, but maybe that's just me." She shrugged, then looked down and squealed, picking up a white cat with a fluffy light brown tail and mane.

"Mrow?" it asked quietly.

"Catada! You're so cute!" she cooed, rubbing her cheek against the animal's head. It purred and pushed its whiskers forward in appreciation. "Oh, right. This is Canada's cat, Catada. He's so much more awesome that Americat that... well, there's no comparison, really." She kissed the cat and let it go, allowing it to crawl into her lap and curl up contentedly. She turned back to the computer in front of her, which was recording her by using a built-in webcam, and continued.

"So, anyway, I'm Montreal, also called the West Island. I'm right smack in the middle of the St. Laurence river and I'm awesome! Music is my main thing, but I'm a pretty big science nerd, too. Ever seen photos of the Expo 67? Oh yeah. 50 million visitors! Hell yeah." She held up a peace sign, still grinning. "Boston said I should describe myself a bit, so... uh, I look about seventeen, I think, and I've got..., I dunno, like five or six piercings on each ear. And two on each bottom lip, here," she pulled at her lip, "Two in each corner, see? And another one here..." She stuck out her tongue, then lifted her shirt away from her belly. "And in the navel! It's awesome, eh? And I was born, like, 2000 years ago when the Natives came over cause my land's really fertile, but my official birthday was October 2, 1535, 'cept Jack called me Hochelaga back then. Jack as in Jacques Cartier, not Jack Daniels."

"Mrrt?" Catada asked, pawing at her chin gently. She giggled in response.

"Right you are, Catada! The tattoos. I got a cross here," Montreal pointed to the inside of her left forearm, then held out her other one and twisting it around to show off the dragon inked into her skin. "China designed that one. It's pretty bad-ass, seriously. I think he's got a similar one on his back, but bigger, but I've never seen it and Hong Kong won't say anything." She sniffed the air and grinned. "Ooh, mom's making a mille feuille cake for dessert tonight. You know, she says she doesn't like France that much, but she always goes all-out in the kitchen when he's coming over..." Her smile turned impish. "Heh. Anyway, back to me! I can run pretty damn fast and I'm okay in the strength department, since I'm an island and all, and I know English, French, Spanish, Italian, Mandarin, German, Russian, Gaelic, couple of Native languages, and I understand Alfred when his mouth is full of that crap he calls food." She shuddered slightly at the thought. "All that's cause of my immigrants, yanno?"

"Rrow!" Catada agreed cheerily, kneading her thigh with his paws. She petted his ears absently, cooing at him again.

"You're so soft, oh my gawd, so fluffy!" She giggled again, then cleared her throat. "Anyway. I used to be Ville-Marie, but now I'm Montreal, and I'm the second-biggest city in Canada and the biggest in Quebec! That's why I'm five foot something... I think, like, five or six, instead of four foot nine or whatever." She shrugged. "So! So, so, so... send in your letters! Email me! Text me if you're feeling obnoxious and want me to go Grammar Nazi on your ass! Oh, wait, don't say that to Germany, he'll go all stiff again. Last time he nearly went catatonic. Oops." She chuckled a bit nervously, then picked up Catada's paw and waved it at the screen. He tolerated the action with a surprising amount of patience and even mewed for her when she asked nicely.

"Lunch!" Quebec called from the kitchen. Her grin widened again.

"Right! That reminds me. You can also ask mom or Catada here a couple of questions. I can translate for you if you don't understand him. Also, if you wanna ask about Manitoba, or the North-West Territories or someone else, I'd be more than happy to answer! If you wanna know about our relationships or if you wanna talk to them directly, I can forward your emails and letters and shit to them for you!" She held up two peace signs and snickered, "And if you wanna trade artists or songs I'll give you the best rock and roll and metal you can find! Peace out, buddies out there somewhere. I'm really nice - I'm Canada's Cultural Capital and one of Earth's most liveable cities for a reason! So ask away! I don't bite. That's BC's job. That stands for Bear Country, by the way."

She reached forward to end the recording, and several seconds of blackness passed before Quebec reopened it, Montreal nowhere in sight. Catada was cradled in one arm, the other at the keyboard. "It's actually British Columbia," she corrected, amused. "But I don't think she would object to being called Bear Country. She quite likes her pet grizzly."

The screen goes blank once more and a frazzled-looking Canada is the main focus. "Hi," he waved meekly. "If you see Kumakiko - uh, Kumajiko... uh, I mean Kumajiro, could you please get him back to me? Thank you so much! You can, um, just tell West Island if you see him, eh? Thank you!" He waves again and it is once again dark.

Kay, so, waiting for letters.