OF CHISELS AND PAINT
Chapter III
Everyone in the room started talking among themselves about their plans for the revival of the Medieval Era. Germany has just sobered up from his passionate lecture and was, at this moment, sitting on his chair, his head rested on his arms which, in turn, were rested on the tabled. He was red to the tips of his hair, obviously ashamed of the hidden side of him and Italy sat beside him, trying his best to comfort the distressed nation. Giving up, the Italian slumped on his chair beside his German friend and let his self get lost in thought.
There has been something poking him in the back of his mind ever since the theme was announced. They were told they had to revive a period in their past and that word seemed to have disturbed his heartstrings and he wondered why. It was only now that he decided to think about it.
Revival... what are some synonyms to that word?
Regeneration, rejuvenation, renewal, resurgence, the Italian's face was turning into a scowl as the list of words got longer. He hated being so forgetful. Resurrection, resuscitation, revitalization…
Rebirth…
Renaissance… This made Italy smile, not his usual clueless, happy-go-lucky smile, it was a soft, fond smile. Grandpa Rome…
"Hey, everyone." He said, getting the attention of his fellow nations.
"What is it, lad?" England asked.
Italy fidgeted a bit. "Would you mind if I…" he trailed off, making everyone's interest pique, what kind of idea can make the ever-energetic, clueless and sometimes annoying country ever stop talking once he's started, aside from pasta, that is.
"Go on, my boy." The Briton prodded.
"W-well, would you guys mind if… if I don't join you with your medieval revival?" there, he said it.
It was France's turn to question him. "Why?" this question made the fond smile of a few minutes ago come back.
"I was thinking of rebirth." France tilted his head to the side, indicating that it wasn't enough explanation. "There was a time in my life when new interest in the learning of ancient Greece and Rome. Although most of the things that happened during this era were the sharing of new ideas in arts, there was a period of it that talked of Grandpa Rome so I-I wanted to revive Grandpa Rome again." The Italian continued, smile never leaving his place as his eyes took on a distant look. This idea made the eyes of France, England and Spain soften. They were once brothers under the rule of the Roman Empire and Italy was their youngest, it was the young Italian that inherited the riches of their grandfather and it was also him who was most attached to the retired empire, so quite obviously, it was him who was most heartbroken when Rome fell.
"Oh, so you're going to make another Renaissance?" France inquired.
"Yes. Since Renaissance started after the wars, epidemics and economic upheaval ended, I want to show everyone the beauty that can be created once we finally put a close to ill intents. I want to show everyone the beautiful works made by the people all around Europe once they were freed from the nightmares of war. I just want to share that happiness to everyone in the world, so that no more wars can be made." Everyone fell silent; they didn't know the Italian can be this perceptive.
"Very well," England broke the silence. "I have a shelf of the original manuscripts written by Shakespeare himself. I will stay by decision of manorialism but I won't mind lending them to you for an exhibit." He said as smiled gently at his former little brother.
"Really, England?" Italy's eyes lit up and jumped up to hug the Briton, making the older country blush at the sudden affection.
"I-it's nothing. No one expects you to exhibit nothing but your own country's works, anyway." He said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"England is right and I think I still have the original manuscript of Erasmus' The Praise of Folly somewhere in my basement. I'm not sure but I'll call you when I find it." Netherlands, who has been quiet throughout the whole ordeal, spoke up, touched by the Italian's insight.
"Oh! So Erasmus was your son! Now I remember. He was quite a good friend of my son, Thomas More." England said, unconsciously starting a conversation with the otherwise silent nation.
"Yes. If I remember correctly, it was Sir More who encouraged Erasmus to study Greek."
"Well, it seems it was Erasmus' The Praise of Folly, which talks of his criticism on scholars, scientists and the likes that inspired More to write Utopia, he was a very devout Catholic, that lad." The Briton said as he and the Dutch immersed themselves in a friendly conversation.
"It seems England found a new friend." Italy giggled.
"Yes, it seems so." France agreed. "What do you plan to exhibit, mon petite?"
"Oh, it really isn't anything everyone hasn't seen yet. I was just planning to give people knew knowledge about the things they see every day, like the paintings on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel."
"Oh, if I remember correctly, they were painted by Michelangelo."
"Yes, he was also the one who sculpted the Pietà. The comments he got were very nice and he won instant fame with it."
"Such a talented man he is but I can't help pitying him. Didn't his eyes start failing him because paint kept on dripping into his eyes? It must have been very painful. His talent and passion were what caused his health to deteriorate and I don't even remember hearing about him having a lover."
"His lover was the paintbrush, his lifeline the chisel, in my opinion, he was quite a happy man." And yet again, France was stunned by the perception of his former younger brother. It seems Italy is quite passionate when it comes to arts.