To be perfectly honest with you, I have no idea what I am doing. I mean… there is definitely a plot, but… but how did the Balkans start to find their way into this?
Also, please excuse any and all cultural/ethnic/language fails and my obligatory use of google translate Croatian. Oh dear.
The conference was Absolute Chaos.
Sure, they had been told to expect a Little Chaos, on the plane when Arthur briefed them. They had been prepared for that. Actually, they'd been prepared (by stories upon stories from Alfred and Francis and Denmark) for some Medium-Level Chaos. But this was rather a shock.
They didn't know a lot of the nations more than short bios and pictures from their dossiers (oh God, they had dossiers, this conference was business) but from what Andrew could tell (and he had his eyes firmly closed as much as he possibly could) almost the entire world was there. Uncle Denmark waved at them from a seat in one corner, one arm looped around the Scary Guy's shoulders and the other around … Norway's, that was his name... neck. A younger boy, much younger than the twins, broke away from the Scary Guy's hold and began to pester a teenaged nation who must be Latvia. The younger kid wasn't in on the nations list, though. Latvia looked scared out of his mind, especially when a very large, very happy-looking country leaned over him – That was Russia. That much was obvious. Francis was over with Spain and Southern Italy, currently with a hand down the Spanish nation's pants as the he babbled obliviously on about how "cute" the lower part of Italy looked. Alex and Andrew exchanged glances. They saw this behavior in dance clubs. They hadn't expected it at the UN.
Suddenly, a commotion could be heard above the general hubbub. There was the sound of splintering wood and an entire table split completely in half. The twins whirled to find a very pretty, very angry-looking girl with a large cast-iron frying pan charging out of the wreckage and after a platinum-blonde man. "Give me back my camera, you non-existant creep!" she screeched. Alex stared.
"She's hot," he said, pointing a thumb at her. Andrew buried his face in his dossier and tried to become invisible. This was just… a little much…
"ALRIGHT ENOUGH." A very loud, very imperious voice shouted. It could be clearly heard above the din, but no one, not even their parents (currently, apparently, trying to beat up on Uncle Francis) paid it any mind.
"VASH!" the voice shouted again. Immediately, gunshots rang out. The twins let out a concerted yelp and ducked. The room fell silent.
"Thank you!"
The voice belonged to a very large, blonde man who stood at the front of the room. "Now may I call this meeting to order?"
Grumbled complaints echoed around the room, and a Middle Eastern country in the back offered "No you may not!" but everyone began shuffling to find their seats. The twins looked around in a panic at the names on the desks around the room. Their parents were nowhere to be seen.
"You lost?" a helpful voice at Andrew's elbow supplied. It was a large girl with very, very prominent… breasts… Alex immediately shoved his brother out of the way and shook her hand.
"Yes, yes, very lost indeed. I'm Alex, you know, the US Virgin Islands, and this is my brother." Andrew noticed that he was never introduced. But that was just the way it went. Meanwhile, Alex was pouring on the charm, all flashing teeth and heybaby. "We're here with our parents. Its our first meeting."
The girl had the decency to blush with all the attention she was being offered. "I'm Katyusha, the Ukraine." Andrew could tell she was really quite the motherly type. "I remember hearing you two would come. Since you two are protectorates, you may sit with your parents, or you may sit over here –" She gestured at a long table in the upper corner of the chamber. It was meant to set ten or so, but there was only a young girl and a bouncy-looking boy seated there now. "There are a few other protectorates and states who come regularly, and they sit up there."
Alex' attention was immediately drawn to the girl in the corner. She was sketching in a notebook, a look of intense concentration on her face. "Thank you very much, ma'am." He kissed her hand. Oh yeah, he was headed up there; there was no way he was going to sit near his mum and dad. And of course Andrew was along for the ride.
Alex bounded up to the two in the corner. "Hello!" he announced. The boy looked up. The girl didn't.
"Pozdrav! Oh, jebi, mislim… I mean, hi! Oh man, I'm so nervous." Still, he flashed a warm smile at the approaching islands. His hair was dirty-blonde and a strange, heart-shaped curl stood at attention from its side. His eyes were blueblueblueblueblue and Andrew felt his breath catch at the sight. "I bet you two speak English, right? Because you came in with America and England so I bet you did – are you two states? I've never met any of the states before; actually, I've never met England either although America has stopped by a few times. I'm Danica, by the way!" he stuck out a hand. Alex was so bowled over by the enthusiastic response that he didn't move at first, leaving Andrew to grasp the proffered appendage. "I'm Croatia – this is my first meeting here and I'm supposed to sit at my desk but this is Renata's first visit too and she has to sit up here because she's Dalmatia and only sort of my state I guess even though she's my sister so I figured that I'd sit up here the first time to keep her company. Besides, its scary down there."
Renata, in the corner, waved a hand, not looking up from her sketchbook. Milk-cocoa waves of hair framed her face, stopping just above her thin shoulderblades. "Excuse my brother," she mumbled. "He takes after mama."
"Who's your mom?" asked Alex, sliding into place next to her. Andrew resisted the urge to hit him over the head with something. The way his brother acted... Sometimes being baby-sat by Francis could turn out badly.
"My mama. He hates being 'mom'. Its Feliciano, Northern Italy," she pointed the chewed-up eraser of her pencil down at the an excitable-looking nation sharing desk space with Southern Italy, near the front of the room. "And my vati is Germany."
"So, which states are you?" Danica asked, gripping Andrew's hand earnestly and causing him to blush at the sudden contact. Really, this was strangely uncharted territory. No one had ever been this… forward… with him before. It was always half-painted girls and giggleblushdon'tyouwantme.
"Errr… we're… we're not states… I'm the British Virgin Islands, Andrew, and this is the US Virgin Islands."
"Shouldn't you … I dunno… not be blonde or something?"
It took Andrew a moment to process the statement.
"Oh. Um. I don't know. Yeah. Most of my citizens are black… but … I don't know – genetics? My parents are America and England, so…"
Danica nodded as if that explained everything. "Yeah, everyone says I ought to look more Eastern but I don't."
Meanwhile, behind her book, Renata was giggling.
"What's so funny?" asked Alex, desperately trying to initiate some sort of conversation with her.
"Pff… you guys are the Virgin Islands. Gawd, that had better be a misnomer or something."
Alex and Andrew colored deeply.
"No, no way, I'm no virgin!" said Alex loudly. About half of the Latin American countries turned around to stare at him.
Renata laughed. "But you are stupid. I like you."
Blessedly, it was at that moment that the meeting began.
