APH PruCan Timeless 2
The sun goes down, the stars come out,
And all that counts is here and now,
My universe will never be the same,
I'm glad you came, I'm glad you came.
-The Wanted 'I'm Glad You Came'
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Once upon a time at the Great Exhibition in London circa 1851.…..
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About three centuries later, Gilbert Beilschmidt's opinion about parties and the general humanity who attended them had not changed much. The Prussian still hated the majority of these useless functions although this one was turning out to be a touch more interesting than he had originally thought it would be. It was still full of all the same shitty uptight people(even more so since they were in England) with sticks so far up their asses it was a small wonder to Gilbert that their tongues were not full of splinters. At least this time, there were some interesting things to look at.
Arthur Kirkland, old pirate and thief that he was, had stolen an idea of Francis's own making. Building upon it, the English nation had created a spectacle, the kind of which he was claiming the world had never seen before. It was, of course, a barely veiled attempt to show off his Industrial Revolution to the rest of the lot, thumbing his empirical nose at the other nations. Everyone had been invited as far as Gilbert could tell. He was seeing glimpses of nations and countries he had never even heard of except in passing.
The Asian nations were a particularly curious sight to see. Though it was obvious they did not enjoy each other's company, the six immortals cloistered together in their colorfully garbed group following one nation in particular, a long haired being in a fiery red robe with dragons embroidered so finely upon the delicate material it looked painted on. Gilbert wasn't sure what gender of the person was at first and did not feel inclined to ask. With the exception of the child in their midst, the being appeared to be the youngest of their group. That was until Gilbert met the nation's golden brown eyes. The weight behind them was staggering even to one such as Gilbert, his own considerable centuries suddenly inconsequential. The Prussian realized immediately that this could only be China, the Immortal nation. Gilbert nodded slightly in deference to him.
The only definitive girl in the bunch helpfully wore pink garments and flowers in her long hair, the length of which flowed down her back to hit her around about the knees. Her hair was some of the loveliest Gilbert had ever seen, the blue black locks a silken waterfall of ink against the pale pink silk of her strange dress. She seemed to be the most nervous but also the most adventurous out of them all, an odd combination of qualities that tended to make her dart in and out of her perceived safety zone. She made Gilbert think of a blossom floating in and out of the wind with the swirl and twist of her fine silken robes.
The only child in the group had very familiar eyebrows, which was unfortunate. Gilbert wondered vaguely if he was related to England or had made the mistake of pissing off the old mage. The child carried a very serious demeanor about him and the face fur only deepened the impression. He wore red as well but his clothing was styled more like a basic tunic and was paired with leggings of a liquid like black material that flowed about him as he moved.
The smallest man….Gilbert used this term of gender hesitantly, the exotic clothing that all the Asian nations wore were really throwing him off….the smallest man in the group was garbed simply yet elegantly all in shimmering black(Gilbert could swear there was a pattern woven black and black into it), the only splash of color a piece of bright blue material with strange looking fish printed upon it that acted as a belt around his slender waist. He appeared to be the quietest out of the six, his blank impenetrable expression rivaling his child companion's own. He looked like the type person Gilbert loved to fuck with and the Prussian loved a challenge.
The tallest of the six made the Prussian's back teeth grind in irritation. He reminded Gilbert of a certain Austrian a lot in looks. The two had similar flyaway dark locks of hair and wore glasses that tended to perch on the ends of their noses. The Asian nation proved himself different though by seeming to be at least approachable. He smiled the most out of his companions and appeared to be the most willing to converse with strangers when the others shied away with an embarrassed flapping of hands and hiding behind wide sleeves. The man stood out from his companions as well in clothing, his long robes a brilliant shade of yellow and embroidered with elephants that were decorated with sparkling topaz and bits of gold.
The remaining member of the entourage was…..well…..just weird in Gilbert's opinion. He wore all white with what looked like a blue vest of some sort tied over his robes. The nation seem to argue the most, constantly pointing to exhibits, claiming that he made them first. When he wasn't doing that, the man would grab China's chest(causing the other nation to yell and complain)and claim his breasts or from what Gilbert could tell, lack there of. It was true that every nation had their own unique customs but the Prussian was failing to see the reason or purpose behind this one.
As much he would have liked to engage them in conversation or combat(wherever their words would take them), Gilbert was stuck with his present company. He and Ludwig were working their way through the Grand Exhibition centralized in the Crystal Palace, booth by booth, no matter what dull things was being presented. Ludwig factitiously took notes on everything no matter no trivial or absurd it was and what was worse, he was taking his sweet time about it. The German's current fascination and subtle Prussian torture was for the Tempest Prognosticator which was basically a barometer that used leeches to predict weather. As far as Gilbert was concerned, leeches should be left in the Dark Ages or the muck holes they inhabited. He had seen enough quacks in his long lifetime try to peddle the slimy bloodsuckers as a cure for the common cold to the secret of eternal youth.
This was Gilbert's own personal version of hell, hence why he was bothering to actually study the press of humanity with a dash of immortals thrown into it for flavor. England had somehow managed to get even all of the Nordic nations, who were usually antisocial bastards, to come but that little achievement could have been all due to Denmark and his methods of persuasion. One of the Dane's inventors has a notable submission of a single cast piano frame. Gilbert didn't give two shits about it much less figure out why such of thing was of any importance. The exhibit had left Roderich in tears of joy for whatever reason, the Austrian nation taking up most of the inventor's time with inquiries and demands to play the exhibit's piano to make sure it sounded right to him.
The wild haired Dane was nowhere in sight though, much to Gilbert's disappointment. He would have to make it a point to find Denmark later and raise seven kinds of hell before the night was over. There was to be a ball later on, something Gilbert was not looking forward to. An inebriated Dane would help alleviate this feeling.
Normally Gilbert would have ditched his tedious companion for more exciting and alcohol filled pastures but England had made it very clear about his opinion on such matters when he had invited brothers, making it a point to send a list of strict rules to the German. Despite his misgivings, Gilbert conceded that he thought it was a smart move on England's part. Ludwig practically lived for that kind of shit. The result of it though was that the German felt inclined to explain all this in intricate boring detail to Gilbert…..repeatedly. If the Prussian even so much as stuck a toe out of line, he would be dropkicked back over the Channel by the invincible iron gentleman himself with no excuses of any kind accepted.
Ludwig had even gone so far as to promise England that he would keep an eye on his older brother. Gilbert considered that a very shortsighted and phenomenally stupid move on his younger sibling's part. Ludwig should really know better by now. The Prussian was already plotting his revenge, something especially horrible he would have to do later to Ludwig when the German least expected it. Gilbert's normal revenge of moving all of the OCD German's furniture over by less than two inches was simply not going to be enough this time.
A shaft of sunlight striking gold caught Gilbert's eye, distracting him and effectively interrupting his nefarious plots for a moment. He watched as a pair of blondes walked past him, the two men oblivious to the world they were so deep in their conversation. Both were dressed too casually for this event, especially when compared next to the more formally attired attendees of this function. From their foreign garb(i.e. tacky in this case) , they were obviously from across the Atlantic.
Gilbert recognized America easily enough. He had trained the younger nation back in the day when he was fighting his war of independence. Gilbert had ended up training the teenager for shits and giggles when one of Prussian's generals had gone over to the New World. Time had been kind to him, the impetuous youth had grown up tall and broad with muscle, his skin the golden brown of people who worked outside on a regular basis. Gilbert snorted in amusement at that. After all these years and America was still a fucking farmer. The coloration worked well for him though, making America's crystal blue eyes and sun streaked honey hair stand out all the more. The American was dressed oddly in a combination of leather and cotton in shades of stained earth, with leather coverings over his pants, high boots made of cracked leather, and a plain white cotton shirt with no decoration upon it. Without his standing as an invited guest and a nation, Gilbert doubted he would have made it in with his current sense or lack of style. The Prussian was amused to see that America had still not lost all the baby fat from his face and even better, now wore glasses as well, the gold rims of the squarish frames glinting in stray sunlight.
The blonde next to him was the more surprising of the two to Gilbert, but not only because the man was obviously America's twin, a fact that had not been made known to him upon their first meeting. What shocked the Prussian the most was that he still recognized Canada after all these centuries. Those twilight eyes were hard to miss or ever forget. Matthew(the nation had been slightly renamed by England when he had procured the colony from France) had grown up as tall and fit as his brother though his skin remained as pale as cream. The Canadian now carried a polar bear cub in his arms and wore a pair of glasses of his own, though his were silver and more roundish in nature. The Canadian was dressed a bit more appropriately but still too casually for this event, the nation wearing dark trousers paired with a purple shirt and fitted black vest unbuttoned with no tie or cravat in sight.
The two nations were young yet vibrant, power practically rolling off of their being. They moved through the sea of people uninhibited, the crowd parting for them as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. Gilbert's eyes tracked and followed them until the North American brothers disappeared again from view, still arguing.
"What is it?", Ludwig asked, finally satisfied with his knowledge of leeches and their applications to the weather.
"Mmmm? Nothing.", Gilbert shook his silvery head, "Just saw someone I know.". He found himself feeling oddly hesitant with Ludwig on talking about what should have been a common place event. Gilbert hadn't even exchanged words with either of the twins and yet he found his tongue stifled in inaction. Confused with himself, Gilbert shoved these opaque, unfamiliar feelings into the back of his mind for some careful viewing later when he had time and privacy to do so. "When is the ball tonight?", Gilbert asked absently, his forefinger scratching his pale cheek in thought.
"Not until seven. Why do you ask, bruder?", Ludwig regarded his older sibling warily. In his experience with the Prussian, Gilbert never asked anything carelessly. That and the thoughtful look on his face was a bit frightening in its intensity. "What are you planning?".
"Never you mind, West.", Gilbert grinned slowly, watching Ludwig out of the corner of his eye as the German paled under the untamed expression.
"I gave my word that you….", Ludwig launched into his lecture to find his words being waved away like gnats in annoyance.
"Calm yourself, dummkopf. I just want to talk with someone there. Is that a crime or against any of your precious rules?", Gilbert informed his kin dryly, lifting a single silver eyebrow at him in judgment and challenge.
"With who?", Ludwig pressed tentatively. That could actually be a very bad thing considering Gilbert's pension for causing total and utter chaos. He didn't even really have to say or do anything. If Gilbert stared at nation longer enough, bad things tended to happen. Add France and Spain in that precarious mix and that was just a disaster fated to happen. There were nations who broke out into a cold sweat just at the mere mention of the Bad Touch Trio.
Gilbert sighed as he watched Ludwig look around them, the German obviously looking was what he had missed a few moments ago in favor of leeches. "My business is my own.", Gilbert intoned, "And I will remind you, dear bruder of mine, that keeping me on a short leash will only end up with you having your arm torn off by it. I would advise that you not take your self proclaimed title as my keeper too seriously or make promises that weigh so heavily on your morals. I feel that the stress of it might end up being very bad for your health.". Gilbert paused to give Ludwig a significant look.
Frowning down at his notes, Ludwig decided to let the matter at hand rest, the German making it a point of moving on to the next booth and the 'wonders' it held. Gilbert followed, though his thoughts were not one the exhibit, his worried brother, or the ebb and flow of humanity around him. Doing what he thought was once the unthinkable, Gilbert started to count down the minutes until the ball.
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After centuries of wearing some sort of uniform whether it was for the clergy or the military, Gilbert admitted to himself that he didn't really care for the style of this particular period in time. He felt it lacked a certain flair or as Francis would put it, a certain 'je ne sais quoi'. One of the nice things about being an immortal though was that when one didn't like the fashion of the day, they simply just had to outwait it or ignore it entirely. Case in point, Francis still wore his hair long so matter what the current style or fad was, though his clothing was always up to date. In direct contrast, England had never been able to do anything with his own tresses besides trimming it back and praying for some sort of miracle. Francis had once told Gilbert a story about England's hair that still made the Prussian chuckle to this day upon remembering it or hearing Francis's vivid retelling of the infamous golden caterpillar.
The Victorian age(as these years were being called) seemed to favor black a little too heavily for Gilbert's liking. The albino personally preferred blues when he got to chose what he wore, the various shades of the color working well with his abnormal features and skin tone. Black tended to make him look like a corpse.
His cravat was a deep shade of crimson though, so dark that it was almost black and looked velvety to the touch. Gilbert found that it pleased him, taking a moment to stroke the plush decoration with long bone white fingers. The tie pin for it was also favored, the chunk of onyx carved into the likeness of a spread wing black eagle. It had matching cufflinks as well, the dark jewelry accented with a spray of garnets that made the eyes and wingtips of the birds frozen mid-flight glitter darkly in an almost menacing way.
"Not too shabby.", Gilbert grinned at his reflection, admiring the effect. He also caught Ludwig's eye roll from behind, the German already fully dressed in his own tux, though his cravat was a satiny cobalt and the jewels in his eagles were sapphires. Ludwig was currently taming his hair, smoothing platinum locks back with the aid of some pomade so that it gleamed and lay flat like polished gold.
Gilbert rolled his eyes back at him, not seeing the point of it. It wasn't like the other nations going didn't know what they really looked like. It had been Gilbert's observation though that that was the way of things for nations. They either saw each other at the very best of times in places such as this or the very worst of times when war was upon them. Ballroom or battlefield, parlor or pillage, dining or dying-there didn't seem to be any happy medium for them.
The Prussian was not one to dwell on such matters though, cutting off his line of deep thought with a satisfied nod to his reflection. They really served no purpose in his line of work. One didn't debate vague concepts with another who was trying to beat their head in with the butt of a gun. Walking out of the bathroom, Gilbert took the opportunity run his hands through Ludwig's hair, effectively ruining all of the German's careful work, before he ran off snickering. Dodging a thrown jar of pomade as well as several other bathroom items, Gilbert found himself wondering if a certain someone would remembered the Prussian just as vividly as Gilbert had recognized him.
If he did not, Gilbert promised himself that he would endeavor so that Canada….Matthew would never make that sort of mistake again.
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The ball was held in the Crystal Palace, a large space in its depths cleared of all exhibits to be decorated in a flood of near fatal white, from the tablecloths to the serving staff that scurried about to the mass amounts of decorative flowers that threatened to drown the guest in their scent. The glass enclosed steel building was lit up from within by candlelight and the clever use of mirrors, the structure glowing like a jar filled to the brim with fireflies.
As Ludwig and Gilbert were formally announced as their lands, the Prussian looked around the room hoping to pick out his intended sooner rather than later. The ball was merely the vehicle to do this in Gilbert's mind. Everything and everyone else was inconsequential. Matthew turned out nowhere to be found though, the only eyes of violet hue belonging to the nation of Russia who smiled back at Gilbert, the expression chilling him from the inside for some reason. The Prussian barely bit back his answering snarl in time. He didn't want to get kicked out of the party before he had a chance with the Canadian.
Snagging a drink from a passing tray, Gilbert amused himself by noting who was here and who was still missing. Most of Europe was here in force though the Italys were notably missing. Gilbert wondered about the whereabouts of the Vargas twins. He would have liked to have seen Feliciano, the younger of the pair who was very cute and sweet natured in his personality unlike his twin Romano who could teach a lemon a thing or two about being sour. Francis and Antonio were already here, the Prussian finding his two oldest friends easily enough. The Spaniard were currently involved in a heated conversation with Belgium and her older brother Holland while Francis was too busy courting one of the Baltics to be bothered by anything or anyone at the moment including his friend's eventually beat down. To Gilbert's surprise, he recognized the French nation's quarry as Eduard who was a very quiet and private nation. The Estonian looked just as perplexed as Gilbert felt about Francis's advances. The Prussian never bet against Francis or his tenacity though, no matter uninterested the target may be at first with the concept of l'amore. It was only a matter of time and who was topping before they caved.
Luckily, Gilbert didn't have to wait long for Matthew's appearance, the Canadian arriving as part as England's entourage. Gilbert turned to look along with everyone else as England was announced with all the pomp and circumstance that the old nation desired.
The British Empire practically strutted into the room, flanked by his older brothers Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. The United Kingdom was all dressed in tuxes, though England wore a velvet cloak dyed a rather bloody shade of scarlet and trimmed with ermine over his shoulders, setting him apart from the others. Gilbert was amused to see that Scotland still wore his kilt instead of pants. He himself had never been one for uncomfortable breezes and drafts between the legs but each kink to his own the Prussian wagered. The colonies and territories followed in behind them like exotic duckling, each announced in turn.
Gilbert found himself most impressed with India who held himself regally like the stolen prince he was. He wore the clothing of his country, the fabric so rich in color it could have bled rainbows. The costume had jewels sewn into every inch of the design so that the nation sparkled with every movement. To his surprise, Gilbert was pleased to see himself admired back by the dark beauty, the albino making the Indian pause a moment to acknowledge him.
Australia came next followed closely by New Zealand. Gilbert observed both of them with great interest. It was strange for the Prussian to see so many unfamiliar faces all at once and he was enjoying the experience. Australia looked like a thug made to wear a suit at gunpoint(which wasn't too far from the truth). The Australian was a tall and powerfully built man with a darkly tanned skin, the surface of which was marked with scars and bandages. He had wild locks of chocolate brown hair, two notable locks of it on his forehead refusing to lay down. His eyes were a vivid shade of green, the hue of which was only found in lost jungles. Gilbert was torn to name the color of it. Like all of the Celtic nations, he had those unfortunately large eyebrows, though they worked a lot better on Australia's rugged physique than they did with England's more deceivingly delicate one. Though his eyes glittered with good humor, Gilbert observed that they darted everywhere and to everyone in the room. Gilbert wondered to himself if that was because Australia was trying to look for the quickest way out or the quickest way to start trouble. The evil looking koala that hung off of Australia's back to glare malevolently at the crowd further impressed this notion.
In comparison, New Zealand was almost Australia's opposite. The nation was smaller and more pale, more resembling his 'motherland' of England than his 'brother' did. New Zealand had short blonde hair with a large peculiar curls on either side of his head. His eyes were a complicated shade of bluish green, the tint of them seeming to change every couple of moments. New Zealand's demeanor appeared far more calm than Australia's twitchy own but that might have been helped by his burden, a small fluffy sheep who dozed in his arms.
Gilbert would have spent more time studying them all, but Canada was announced, the nation entering the room as silently as the fall of snow. Dressed in a tux like his 'brothers', Matthew made a striking figure, the suit lengthening his already tall form and brought attention to his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His cravat was red as well, but nowhere as dark as Gilbert's own, the scarlet like a drop of blood against Matthew's neck. It was held in place by a delicate carved tiepin in the shape of a white leaf, the design echoed in his cufflinks.
All in all, it was a very impressive amount of strutting Gilbert had to admit, with England showing off all of his beautiful new toys to the world at large. It was almost sad that it only took one nation to effectively ruin the entire effect by simply showing up. A name was announced, the room turning like a wave, slow at first but finishing with snap as necks were craned and lips were parted to gasp.
America walked in with his head held high, dressed all in white from head to toe looking like some sort of wayward angel or new god. While England sparkled from all his plundered wealth, America shone all on his own, naturally, with gold and diamonds from his own soil. As he moved, pristine leather of boot and belt gleamed almost wetly against the suit of unmarked silk, the American's tux obviously tailored and expertly fitted to him for once. Gold buttons and the gold of his frames were the gilding on the lily while white diamonds in his tie pin and cufflinks twinkled madly like the bound stars they were shaped like.
Even more startling, America walked directly up to England who looked so angry at being shown up at his own party that Gilbert thought he would spit or stab the other nation. Neither reaction would have really surprised Gilbert. Proving he was ever the risk taker, America threw common sense and caution to the wind. He took England's hand into his own to lift it to his lips, brushing their silken touch against the back of empire's knuckles in a barely there kiss.
"My sweet England. So happy to see me as always.", America said easily enough, a smile daring to touch the lips that still caressed England.
"Ill met by moonlight, proud America.", England sniffed haughtily, biting back other hostilities in time while turning an admonishing phrase upon the American with his Bard's help.
"What, jealous England?", America's shadow of a smile resolving itself into one a challenge, a hint of teeth on England's captured hand, "Nations, skip hence. I have foresworn his bed and company.". America contradicted his own words by lewdly flicking his tongue out to taste England's skin.
England's breathe only caught for a second before he responded with a smirk of his own. "Tarry, rash wanton. Am I not your lord?".
"Then I must be your lady.", America said before breaking off his devotions to England's being to throw his head back in laughter and effectively ruining the strained mood and building tension. "Shit, I can't remember the rest.", America smiled, his tone unrepentant toward his abuse of a classic, "So, do you wanna dance with me or not?". America didn't really wait for an answer, already dragging his captive and former keeper to their destination.
England rolled his eyes but let himself be lead, his hand still being held in the American's own. "Not if you dance as well as you quote Shakespeare.", England snorted in disgust, "And please refrain from butchering the Queen's English while you are in my company. Act like a savage on your own time."
America smiled as he brought England's hand back up to his lips, flipping it over so that he could bite at the meat he found in the palm there. England flushed darkly, his eyelids fluttering ever so slightly in response before the old nation could regain full control of himself. "I'll try to remember that, your royal highness.", was the last snide remark Gilbert heard before he lost interest, his scarlet eyes alighting upon Matthew.
The wallflower stole his attention fully, the Canadian sitting at a table by himself. He was feeding a plate of delicacies(and they were, the cooks for this affair were French) to the polar bear Gilbert had seen earlier in Matthew's arms. With no further announcement than a swift kick to the back of Matthew's chair just to make the nation jump, Gilbert slid into a seat next to him, grinning wolfishly at the startled blonde.
"Hallo Kanata. Long time, no see.", Gilbert greeted as he leaned into the Canadian's body so that their faces were only a few inches apart. To his delight, Matthew met his gaze levelly, his expression un-tinged by fear or revulsion instead of the twitching most other nations did in the Prussian's close presence.
"I haven't been Kanata for a while. It is Canada now.", Matthew corrected smoothly enough, resisting the urge to move away from the other nation. As thrilled as he was to be noticed, that didn't necessarily mean he wanted someone else invading his personal space. He also had no idea what to say to the other nation, having only met him once and not in the best of circumstances. "How have you been, Prussia? It has been a while.".
This close to each other, Matthew couldn't miss Gilbert's wince even if he had bothered to try and hide it. "It's Gilbert. Only my enemies get to call me Prussia.", Gilbert informed the other nation, edging even closer to Matthew. A memories from three centuries ago and one glimpse in a crowd did not do the Canadian justice. He was even more beautiful up close. Gilbert would have continued to admired him if not for a bear suddenly coming between them, the cub's head so swiftly there its skull almost clipped Gilbert's chin.
"I'm Kumajirou. Are you insane?', the bear asked. Gilbert found he had to sit back away from his prey, his lap suddenly quite full of white fur with paw bracing themselves on his chest.
"Maybe. Why do you ask, Bär?", Gilbert toyed with idea before discarding it. He had too many sharp looking teeth close to his face to fuck around with the unknown animal.
"You have a bird on your head. Most people don't. Gimme.", Kumajirou snapped, leaning up on Gilbert's torso so that he could sniff at the pile of feathers that was the little yellow bird in question. Gilbird woke up to find a whole lot of cold black nose smelling him in uncomfortable places. Having none of it, he promptly pecked the overly inquisitive bear on the nose causing Kumajirou to jerk back with a sneeze as he fell off of the Prussian's lap. Gilbert's signature laugh added insult to injure.
"Kesesesese. Serves you right sticking your nose where it wasn't wanted.", Gilbert snickered as Gilbird peeked out of silver locks to tweet inquiries down at the indignant bear. Both Prussian and bird make noises of surprise when cool hands brushed through spiky locks to pluck Gilbird from his odd perch.
"I didn't notice him last time. Who is this, eh?", Matthew smiled down at the bird in his hand who was puffing up his fluff in what he thought was a very threatening and impressive manner, ready to defend himself and his master.
"That is Gilbird, a powerful avatar of mine. One whose coming is feared throughout the world. His appearance is the foretelling of your doom and vital regions being claimed by me.", Gilbert deadpanned. He wasn't sure not to feel about Matthew holding his friend or if his scalp should tingle that much from just being touched.
"I can see that.", Matthew said solemnly as he put Gilbird up on his own head to see what it would feel like. Gilbert's crimson eyes narrowed to slits as he studied the Canadian's face for any signs that would say that he was less than serious but could find none. The next feeling he had to deal with was intense jealousy, directed at his own bird who was now smugly situated between silken lock of hair and did not look like he was going to move any time soon.
"You have met Kumocama now. He is more of a nuisance than anything. No where as useful or as important as an avatar or herald.", Matthew continued solemnly, reaching down to pick up the fallen bear. He deposited the grumpy animal in Gilbert's lap, the bear and nation taking a moment to appraise each other.
"I thought your name was Kumajirou.", Gilbert frowned down at his lap's occupant.
"Who told you that, snowflake?", Kumajirou snorted before turning his attention back to Matthew, "And I let you cuddle with me, you ungrateful beaver turd. See if you get any fluffy love tonight, hoser.".
"I am appalled by your language. I thought I trained you better than that, Kukuachoo.", Matthew chided lightly although Gilbert saw the corners of his lips turn up. The bear and nation were playing a game he was not aware or apart of.
"Who are you?", the bear shot back snidely. Having got in the last word, Kumajirou turned a circle in the Prussian's lap before settling down with his nose buried in his fur, falling asleep within a few minutes. Gilbert liked this turn of events even less. He couldn't get closer to Matthew like this but the baby bear in his lap was so cute with his soft little ears and soft little paws twitching in sleep. Gilbert glared down at Kumajirou, trying to hate the bear and failing to do so.
Matthew hummed softly in pleasure as he watched the Prussian. He considered himself an excellent judge of character having a lot of practice watching other people and listening in on their conversations(it wasn't his fault people treated him like a piece of furniture and acted like he had all the awareness of a chair). It helped that Francis had mentioned to him while very drunk that Gilbert had a pension for cute things. Matthew hadn't been sure it was real until now and that in itself made the Prussian endearing to him.
The slumbering bear tactic also kept Gilbert in one place so that Matthew could study him. The Prussian's manner and speech were distracting which was a pity. There was so much of Gilbert that deserved to be truly seen in Matthew's opinion.
Though he had been quite young at the time, Gilbert had left a definite impression upon the younger nation. His sudden appearance in Matthew's room during that stormy night had been frightening yet also quite thrilling, and though he had met many nations since then, Gilbert still stood out in Matthew's mind from their bizarre meeting.
Now that he was older, Matthew could really appreciate certain aspects of his strange company. If Matthew categorized Gilbert's looks in his mind, he would have to say the Prussian had all the stark beauty of a wildfire. Like his manner and way of speaking, Gilbert's face was sharp and defined. It had the overall look of a predator, an artic fox if Matthew had to be specific who whose eyes would shine back red light. Though not as tall as some nations, what the Prussian lacked in height he made up for in confidence, in attitude, in his presence a tangible, in-your-face thing.
Gilbert's hands alone were drawing in Matthew's attention in the most unusual ways. The skin of them were bone white and looked stretched too tight over their skeletal frame. Gilbert kept his nails longer then most men or simply did feel the need to peel or bite them off. The result was that his touch tended to click lightly upon surfaces, like talons seeking purchase. Looking mildly frustrated, Gilbert tapped out a melody of boredom on the table with his nails. The sound was doing interesting things to Matthew's body. He wanted those bony fingers to find a place on his bare skin, tearing furrows into it.
Stealing Gilbert's bird had satisfied more than one need. The spiky locks of silver had looked course to Matthew. He had been positive that he would have not liked their rough texture, expecting dry and brittle locks to rasp on skin when he passed his fingers through them. Gilbert didn't strike Matthew as someone who gave a damn about such things as manageable hair, something that had been impressed upon the Canadian at a very young age by Francis. Matthew had had to quickly reevaluate his impression about Gilbert though after the bird pilferage. The Prussian's hair had all the unique qualities of cat hair it would seem. It was fine but very thick and surprisingly soft to the touch. Matthew wanted to explore its moon shaded qualities more thoroughly between his fingers.
Matthew licked his too dry lips tentatively, knowing what he wanted but was unsure of how to proceed. Gilbert had simplified a lot of the busy work by finding Matthew and just basically presenting himself to Canadian, but by in doing so, had cut into Matthew's time for planning. Francis had been able to teach his 'son' a great many of things other than hair care and cooking before England had laid claim to him. Matthew wasn't stupid or naive enough to believe that Gilbert was seeking him out to just reminisce. It was all really a matter of comfort now and how far Matthew was willing to take or seek this. Gilbert had one hell of a reputation to contend with. Though a few of the rumors sounding too ridiculous to be real and/or physically possible, Matthew was hoping at least some of it were true.
Currently the object of his carnal affection was studying the dance floor, his crimson eyes full of open curiosity as he watched England and America dance together. Somehow, America was leading but just barely by the skin of his fingers. England was making him work for it with every turn and twirl. "So how did those two…", Gilbert let the obvious question hang midair. Matthew found he could forgive this type of distraction. Nations were as notorious as old women for gossip. Being a neighbor to one of the nations in question and an underling to the other made Matthew the perfect target for insider knowledge so really how could Gilbert resist asking.
"You remember the last war between them aboot four decades ago?", Matthew shrugged, checking Gilbert's knowledge so he wouldn't bore him with information he already knew.
"Ja. They are actually bothering to call that clusterfuck a war?", Gilbert snorted. In his opinion, wars should have definite losers and winners.
"I will remind you I was apart of that 'clusterfuck', thank you very much. Al tried to invade me so yes, it was a war.", Matthew huffed, though he had some similar opinions when it came to that confusing period in time.
"How did you get him to stop?", Gilbert asked. He couldn't see the Canadian being a participant on the battle field. Some nations just weren't made for it. Austria and Lichtenstein sprang to mind though in Lichtenstein's it was excusable. A being that cute should never be made to be covered in blood.
"I burned down his capital.", Matthew said flatly. Gilbert blinked back in surprise, searching the Canadian's face for any sign of humor or falsehood. There were none.
"Al was never one to take a hint.", Matthew continued in a dry tone after a moment, "Anyway, he saw the whole thing as one long love letter from England because he was still interested in retaking him as a colony."
"I don't get it.", Gilbert shook his head, "So let me get this straight, your idiot brother spent one whole war trying to get away from England and another one to get back with him.".
"In a way…..Yes and no. It's kinda sorta why the War of 1812 ended so…..so….", Matthew cast his words about trying to find something that fit adequately enough.
"Pathetically.", Gilbert supplied with a snort of disgust.
"Close enough.", Matthew sighed, "It did have its merits though. I proved to Al I can and will defend my own borders without hesitation, Al proved that he can stand up for himself as a nation against outside forces, and Arthur and Al patched things up between each other.".
"Looks like they did a lot more than that. Kesese.", Gilbert snickered, nodding over to the pair. Matthew managed to hold back his own amusement upon viewing America and England locking lips with one another as if they were the only two on the dance floor. Perhaps in their own minds, they were.
"Kirkland always was a greedy old man.", Gilbert chuckled, "It wouldn't surprise me if half of the reason he is with your brother is so that he can have the whole set.". Gilbert watched as Matthew grimaced, lending some truth to the Prussian's statement.
"They care aboot each other.", Matthew backpedaled charitably. He didn't want to be caught in between an angry brother and even angrier keeper if something got back to them.
"We all care about each other. You can't fight or fuck someone without some kind of emotion behind even if it just greed.", Gilbert waxed philosophical, at least for him.
"Don't you believe in love?", Matthew countered, surprising himself. He hadn't meant to ask that question.
Gilbert made a face, "You have spent too much time with Francis."
"Then you don't.", Matthew frowned, feeling hurt for some reason and knowing he really shouldn't.
"Nein, I just don't believe in the wino's bullshit version of perfection he makes it out to be. It doesn't exist.", Gilbert said, his tone full of disgust and even some contempt. It was one of those subjects that he and Francis had spent many a night arguing about over innumerable drinks until there was no more wine left(and that was saying something considering the wealth of Francis's wine cellars) and the sun was coming up to tell them it was the start of a brand new day. "I have seen love and all that it can do, what people are willing to do. I have seen cities razed to ash for it. I have witnessed oceans of blood spilled for it under one pretense or another. I have seen good men crumbled under its pressure and have seen worse men steal, torture, and kill for it. Love is one of the harshest mistresses in this world. I like to admire it from afar as I would anything I consider beautiful yet deadly."
Matthew grew very quiet and still, the blonde studying his hands which were trembling for some reason. He didn't know what he expected from Gilbert and even knew that he was being unfair to the albino in his silence. It wasn't Gilbert's fault that Matthew had meant so much more than what he was actually asking. If he was honest with himself, Matthew didn't even know the extent of it or why he had done it. It had just been a feeling….
Gilbert cursed at himself, Matthew refusing to look at him. He had gone too far and with basically a complete stranger, freely given out his harsh opinion to someone unused to him as if Matthew were a tried and true confidant. The Prussian was getting a bad feeling that he had missed something else as well. He just wasn't sure what it was and even worse, the world didn't give Gilbert a chance to rectify his mistake.
"What beastly things are you saying to Canada to make him look so distraught, Beilschmidt?"
Gilbert glared up at England, drawing his lips back in a snarl at the empire. England arched an impressive brow back at him to tell the Prussian just how unimpressed he was by it. "Mind your own business, Kirkland.", Gilbert snapped. He wondered where the hell America had gotten himself and why he wasn't being useful. Knowing him, the fat ass had probably gone off to feed him face.
"Canada is my business, you cheeky bugger.", England sniffed empirically, "Now mind your manners or you will be swimming back to your land. I am not playing rounders with you all night.".
"That's rich coming from you.", Gilbert growled out, really wishing that America would show up again and distract England so that he could focus on Matthew and mend whatever the hell he had inadvertently broken, "Mind my manners? Says the pirate.".
"Says the gentleman.", England correctly stiffly.
Gilbert grinned as he spotted a different blonde not to far off from them, one with wild hair and glittering cobalt eyes that were begging for a fight. Gilbert realized he would have to time this just right as a plan formed in his mind. "Who the fuck are you trying to bullshit here, Kirkland? I've come across things six months dead and buried that have had better hygiene than you after a year at sea. Smelled better too.", Gilbert challenged to see England's face flush, the shade of red on his cheek deepening as the Prussian continued, "Seaport hookers have cleaner mouths than you when you're drunk, you delusional old seadog. Hell, I've seen you drop trou and take a shit on….."
"Keep your voice down.", England hissed, reaching for the smirking Prussian and missing him as Gilbert dodged him at every attempt. The game of cat and mouse did draw the blonde he wanted nearer to them though, the nation drawn to conflict like a moth to a flame. England stopped when he realized how ridiculous he looked, the empire straightening up to start fixing his clothing with a resolute manner.
"Things change.", England said simply, as if his word were the end all be all. Gilbert thought it was time to remind the empire that he did not rule over the entire world and Prussians were no one's lackeys.
"Don't piss on my leg and tell me its raining, Kirkland. You and I both know you steal anything that's not nailed down or put a flag in it so that you can come back later to do it.", Gilbert scoffed openly, "That damn ruby on your throat has probably been pried out of a statue from some poor heathen bastard's temple."
"It was not stolen.", England fumed, his slender hands curling into fists despite his earlier resolve, "It was acquired.".
The taste of victory was so sweet, Gilbert bit his tongue to keep from reacting to it too earlier. England had only taken the bait. Now it was time to reel in the shark that was going to eat him. "Oh, is that what they are calling robbing other nations blind these days. I wasn't aware. I'll have to remember that when I talk to Denmark.", Gilbert could feel the hungry grin growing across his face, consuming it. "Well speak of the devil and he shall appear. Hey Danny! Get your ass over here and settle this! You ever used to 'acquire' goods and services?!".
England stiffened as the taller Nordic nation leaned over him bodily to grin back at the Prussian like two wolves greeting each other. The Dane picked up on the game easily enough.
"Hell no, but I did steal a lot of shit.", Denmark laughed, cuddling with a now enraged England, "And if I remember correctly, a lot of it was from you, Artur.".
And that was when things went severely downhill.
America decided to show up at that very moment to find England in another's embrace. Whether the empire was willing or unwilling(and looking murderous while doing it) was of little matter to the American who instantly saw red and little things like diplomacy, tact, and international incident suddenly became words for other nations.
To his amused surprise, Denmark found himself suddenly airborne. Old warrior that he was, Denmark landed with a roll a ways off, taking the brunt of the impact with his shoulder and was back on his feet in moments, a grin on his lips as a call for battle sang from his throat. Because old pacts made from bone and blood still held, the other Nordics appeared at his side as if by magic, following Denmark into the fray. America met them head on without pause or regard for his own safety, reckless young nation that he was. England couldn't let him do that by himself, the empire darting forward after him. Scotland and Ireland came out of the woodwork about then as well but in aid of whom was anyone's guess really. His plan set into motion, Gilbert was about to turn and grab Matthew so that the pair could make their escape unnoticed amid the chaos.
The Prussian found out that the best laid plans, even the ones made up on the fly, go awry. Before he could complete the next step of his awesome plan, Gilbert was jerked roughly back by his collar so he did the first thing that came to mind. The Prussian turned into the motion like the pro that he was, punching without looking at whoever was foolish enough to test him, the unfortunate nation going down like a sack of potatoes only to be replaced by another. This one was armed with a frying pan though this time and looked ready to beat Gilbert with the cooking implement within an inch of his life. Gilbert realized belated that the nation at his feet was Austria and the nation wanting to avenge him was Hungary.
"Fuck my life.", Gilbert sighed, as a skillet came whistling toward his head like the hand of God.
It wasn't until much later that the Prussian realized he had lost track of Matthew entirely.
Gilbert never did get to apologize.
It was something that weighed on his conscious for many years to come.
