Haya here again! AAH! It took us a whole week this time! Dx Haya really wanted to get this done for Gilbo's bday last Monday (the 18th) but she had exams to study for! DX And then the rest of the week she was busy busy busy! GAAH! It hazeth killed Haya's heart. Not being able to update for Gilbo's bday *sniffsniff* BUT! We can belatedly celebrate his bday as well as celebrate, drumroll please *drumroll* 1000 hits~! :D You all have no idea how happy Go-chan and I for that! We *heart* you all! Oh yeah ;D Instead of doing this right now, Haya should be working on her anime theme song game show for anime club tomorrow... tiiis almost 12:30 as she is typing thing... Late night for Haya! XD Procrastinator Haya procrastinates even on fun stuff she volunteers for... Haya is strange! Anywhos, without further ado, Chapter Four of ToTaoTL! :D Oh and please, let Haya know what you think of everyone's costume ;3
Chapter Four: Drang nach Osten
Carnival is a large festival spanning days and continents. It beings just before the celebration of the Christian Lent. Essentially, it's a one last big shebang of fun before a time of fasting and prayer. At least, that's what it was on its onset. Today, its lost a fair bit of its religious meaning, while growing in scale.
In Spain it is known as Carnaval, and is celebrated with festivities that include parades of floats, the wearing of costumes and masks, music, dancing, drinking, a variety of fun pastimes. And after having been outlawed for forty long years in the 1930s by the dictator Francisco Franco because of its themes against of authority, you can imagine it has been in full swing ever since. In Cadiz, especially, a city in which there is normally a calm and serene feeling that turns to the life of the party in the Spanish land. It is supposed that it was in part this city's fault for the abolishment of the festival, it's being known for having competitions of parodies of authoritative and political figures as well as celebrities. An entire six months prior its beginning with the firing of a rocket to open festivities people of this town begin preparations. Singing showdowns are taken quite seriously, despite the hysterical atmosphere. You are seen as an outcast should you not be in colorful and unique garb in the streets. No doubt you won't receive any candy thrown from the floats.
Despite the loss of religious connotations in society today, it is highly likely that in a religious festival such as this those with backgrounds in the church will feel something that resembles fear for the sins they have committed and are committing. Namely, the personification of a nation birthed by men serving a Catholic order, and another where said organization is now largely based and associated with.
Preparations for the Carnaval were serious business for two certain personified nations. France for the obvious reasons he was one for the flashy and extravagant outfits and Spain because, after all, this was his nation's carnival they were attending and he needed to represent! And so after an exciting night of partying, the two woke up early to start getting ready for the coming day of partying. Once Romano and Prussia woke up, they were suckered into helping out. Soon enough, Italy caught wind of what was going on at Spain's house and was more than willing to assist. And so after a rigorous day of costume making, the group of nations –plus Germany- found themselves amongst hundreds of masked humans, sticking out sorely for the fact they were more dressed up than everyone else.
Naturally, France's garb, or lack thereof, was the most attention grabbing. The group was going with an animal theme and France was a shimmering peacock. Strapped to his back with sequenced string crisscrossing his bare chest were giant peacock feathers, making it difficult for anyone to stand next to him without the fear of getting hit. Around his neck were turquoise craft gemstones, matching the large stone on his circlet. Concealing his vital regions was a peacock mask, the beak protruding in front of him with feather fanning out around his front. And that was it.
Although he was fully clothed, Spain's costume left even less room for imagination. He was covered from neck to toe in two-tone green spandex. Just as France had feathers strapped to his back, Spain had a giant turtle shell made of paper mâché and craft emerald gemstones. The lighter shade of green on the spandex was tiled in boxes, creating the underside of his turtle theme.
Last of the Trio was Prussia, sporting an outfit much like his Teutonic days with a few adjustments. He wore white pants, shirt, and tunic, all lined with white fuzz. Popping out of his pale hair were furry rabbit ears, matching the fuzz ball tail on the back of his pants. His nose was painted pink and the rest of his face white. Matching his eyes was a giant red bow tied around his neck. Sitting atop his head was Fritz, his yellow feather sticking out more than usual with his pure white owner.
Spain had wanted Romano to be a turtle with him, but the Italian venomously disagreed, giving France the idea to make him a cat. And so the brunette now donned a furry vest, tight tank top, tight pants, furry legwarmers, cat ears and tail in varying shades of brown that corresponded with his hair. Around his neck was a studded collar with a large bell. His face was painted brown with white whiskers. Matching his brother was Italy, who was essentially wearing the exact same outfit, just in shades of auburn that matched his hair.
The final member of the group was Germany. At first he flat out refused to participate in costume wearing, but after joint whining of Prussia and Italy, he broke down and agreed to getting dressed up. France was going to dress him up as a lion, but the German laid down one condition: he had to be a dog. If he was going to humiliate himself, he might as well like the animal. And so he was wearing an outfit much like the Italys'. He wore a rather tight light brown tank and matching brown pants. Over his shirt was a form fitting black jacket, creating the coloration pattern of a German Shepard. All three garments were adorned with fur. As well as allowing the costume coordinators to paint his face like a German Shepard, he even allowed them to use colored hair gel so his hair would match the rest of him. The finishing touches were his multicolored tail and spiked collar.
With the firing of the cohete, it began. All at once the group dispersed, branching of into three pairs instead of the original unit of six. Spain took Romano by the arm and ran off, pointing excitedly at one of the performances. With linked arms France and Prussia walked off surprisingly chummy, considering. Ludwig watched them as they were lost in the crowd – as hard as it is to believe, Francis wasn't one of the most elaborate around – and noted the laughter still coming back at him, just catching Prussia punching the Frenchman's arms in a playful manner.
"Miaao~ Doitsu, c'mon!" Germany turned at the tugging of his hand to stare into the excited eyes of a feline-fied Italian, pawing at his face to only heighten the effect more. "Let's see what kind of food and candy they have around here!" With no way to follow after everyone else and unable to say no to this little brunet, Germany obliged and was dragged off in a direction away from either pair that had left him.
Left to their own devices, it didn't take Prussia and France very long to get their hands on some alcohol and have some fun. At first the two went about the carnival grounds looking at everything, often getting stopped by giggling tourist girls for a picture. But once they had exhausted their sightseeing, the two settled for people watching, as well as playing a little game they created years ago.
"Bottom."
"Fuck no, that douche is a total top!"
France raised a brow and chuckled. "Perhaps for you, mon amour, but there's no way he could top me."
With a growl, Prussia smacked France on the back of the head. "I wasn't talking in terms of me. You're fucking changing the rules to make fun of me, asshole!"
"Oh but you didn't deny he'd top you~"
"Halt die Klappe!"
It was a simple game often played when in possession of alcohol with nothing else better to do. They looked at a guy and decided if he'd be a top or bottom. No one was supposed to answer in terms him and the guy in question, but France always had to break that rule to make fun of their answers.
"Okay, how about him, he looks like a stereotypical top," France said, gesturing to a nearby man.
"Mmm I suppose," Prussia trailed off as his eyes wandered away from their subject to an animated cat a bit farther off. "Oi! Is that West and Ita-chan over there?"
Following Prussia's gaze, France's eyes light up with a mischievous joy. "Ils sont, ils sont! Let's go follow them, oui?"
Not waiting for a response, France grabbed the albino's hand and darted through the crowd – as best as he could with his outfit – to get within a hearing distance of the two. Flush apparent through his white face paint, Prussia pulled France behind some bushes to peer through the branches. "We don't want to get spotted stupid."
"Je devine ainsi," replied France reluctantly as a group of girls caught the corner of his eye. He looked back to Germany and Italy, who had yet to move far from their original spot. Perhaps his original plan wasn't completely lost… Grinning, he left Prussia behind to bushes to saunter up to and greet the women, bowing elegantly. "I can't help but feel you très beau mademoiselles are wanting to ask me something."
Highly embarrassed, one of the girls held her camera up meekly and shyly asked, "W-we were wondering if we could have a picture…" Her eyes flickered over to Prussia's crouched form at the bushes and added, "Your rabbit friend as well."
"Why of course mademoiselles!" France exclaimed cheerily. He looked over his shoulder and loudly yelled, "Gil, chéri, these jolies dames want your picture."
It came as no surprise that thoughts of following his brother were forgotten when asked for a photograph. Prussia leaped to his feet and raced over, grinning a broad, smug smile. "Kesese, can't blame you girls. I'm the most fucking awesome thing here!"
"Gilbert! Watch your language around ladies!" France scolded as he wrapped an arm around the Prussian's waist and smiled at the girls. "Excuse him mademoiselles, he's a brute allemand."
Muttering more profanities under his breath at the Frenchman, Prussia crossed his arms and leaned into the taller male. He grinned to the girls and said, "Ready when you are babes!"
There was no mistaking that voice. The height in its volume, the haughty overtone. In an instant Ludwig had picked it out from the clamor of voices and music rising in the air, pinpointing the location of its source and honing in on it. With a confused Italian following behind him, the German managed to pick through the crowd more or less unnoticed to see just what was up. Sure enough, there was his brother, arm in arm with France and posing for a gaggle of women. Was that a faint twitch of his brow? He couldn't tell.
"Doitsu? What is it?" Asked the bewildered Feliciano. He had just been procuring for them some delicious looking candies when all of a sudden his tall blond – now brunet – friend was plowing through the crowd with about as much refinement as a bull making its way through a field of grass. It was surprising he remained hidden. Maybe not… Considering the height and width of some of the costumes before him.
When he had reached Ludwig it was immediately known, the reason for his hasty departure. Glancing up, Feliciano released an unheard whimper in response to the new decoration to Germany's face that was his deep frown. "Is Germany mad at GilGil?"
The whined inquiry was what Germany needed to return to reality, so fervent he was in glaring in the direction of his brother and… Friend. Releasing quite the exasperated sigh, he just shook his head and turned away in favor of looking to whom hte was speaking. "Nein, I am not mad at my brother."
"At France nii-chan, then?"
There was a pause before that. "No… No, I'm not mad at France." Well, it was only part lie. He wasn't mad at him.
"Then what's wrong?" Worriedly, dislike of seeing his friend upset, our Italian hung on said males arm, still looking up at him with wide amber eyes. "This is a carnival! People are supposed to be happy. Even Doitsu can be happy, I've seen it! A few times…"
Just a shadow of a chuckle at the last comment. Though it soon died in his musing over how to answer the preceding questions. "I'm really not… It eludes me, the reason for my discomfort," he admitted, and this time he spoke the whole truth. So he was upset that Prussia was spending so much time with France. It hadn't affected him on this level in years prior, had it? Why did he feel the urge to shoot something now?
"But it has to do with GilGil?" Feliciano offered.
Fortunately the awkward blush was undetectable beneath the face paint. "Ja," he murmured, looking back to the scene that had caused all of this. The scene that soon changed, pictures taken and girls back to chatting with the two men. They were beginning to move away.
"Then c'mon! They're leaving, Doitsu, don't let them get away! If we go and watch them together, maybe we can figure this out," Italy sang, moving from the side to the front of a blushing German Shepherd to tug on his arm, eyes aglow.
A warm smile formed. A thin layer of his tension was peeled away by those hopeful brown eyes and kind smile. Germany allowed himself to be led away after France and Prussia. "Danke…" Friendship, no matter its late arrival, was something he had come to appreciate.
The group and its stalker made their way to a nearby pub filled with Carnaval goers. A large table in the middle of the room quickly became the loudest. Although the conversation had started on their costumes, it quickly became all about Prussia. He was bragging about any and everything, France interjecting comments here and there, most of them being insults the drunk Prussian didn't catch on to. The girls were full of laughter, very much so enjoying the bantering between France and Prussia. In the few moments of silence as Prussia took a break in talking to drink his beer, one of the girls spoke up.
"Are you guys like, a thing?"
Before either man could respond, the rest of the girls started talking at once.
"That's rude Sherry! How can you ask that?"
"I can't believe you actually asked! I was only kidding!"
"Hey! I wanted to ask!"
"What a pansy way of asking!" The girl who said this turned to the nations, a smirk on her face as she asked, "Are you two butt buddies?"
Prussia instantly flushed and slammed his beer onto the table, quickly swallowing his mouthful instead of spitting it out (one did not spit out beer). "FUCK NO!"
"Oh but of course~" France said languidly, ignoring the death glare he was receiving from his albino friend. "Dear Gilbert here is just embarrassed about the fact, hm GilGil?"
About to protest again, France silenced Prussia with an arm around his shoulders, quietly whispering into his ear, "The girls are obviously of the Elizabeta type, look at how they are just eating this up. Surely you aren't turning down the chance for attention!"
Glancing at the girls from the corner of his eyes, Gilbert smirked. He tilted his head up to nibble on France's earlobe. "I'm sure you're eating this up at well, Franny."
"Oh mon chéri, not as much as someone else is," he said cryptically, his gaze flickering over to a certain German intently staring at their every move. He gave a wink before looking back to the girls, his arm around Prussia's shoulder pulling him closer.
The females of the group were whispering among each other, thinking he couldn't hear. It was rather amusing, their topic of conversation. They were wondering if they got him and Prussia drunk enough, they'd start 'doing stuff that should be contained to the bedroom.'
"Fuck they're just like that she-bitch," Prussia muttered more to himself than anything.
"Oui, so we should entertain them, should we not?" The blond started to lean in to capture Prussia's lips when music started playing from his peacock beak. Grinning, France sat up and reached down, pulling a small pouch out from behind the feathers of his lower 'garment.' He flipped it open and put it to his ear. "Bonjour mon Antonio, ce qui est incorrect?"
There was hardly enough space between the answering of the phone for France to answer before sobs rang out from the other end. "Franny!" A long string of Spanish ensued, drenched in tears. "Lovi got mad at me," Antonio finally sniffed out in English, "and ran off! I can't find him, and I don't even know why he's mad at me! All of a sudden he dashed while I was hugging this chica in a really nice costume. I don't know what to dooooo!"
With several 'mhms' and 'uhhus' in response to the cries, France sighed and said, "I will be there in a bit, just calm down. And don't worry about your little tomato, I'll send Ita-chan after him. Be there in a bit." He hung up and returned his phone and the pouch to their original place, not before pulling a wad of cash from the pouch.
"Mon chéris, I am afraid we need to go now. One of our friends in a bit of trouble. Please, keep enjoying your drinks, it's on me. Come along Gilbert," France said, placing the money on the table as he stood, pulling Prussia up with him.
With a wave to the disappointed girls, France dragged the confused albino across the room to the booth where Germany and Italy were seated. He exchanged Prussia for Italy, placing the drunken albino next to his brother and pulling Italy to his feet. "Your brother is PMSing again. Could you find him and calm him mon cher? I need to comfort Antonio."
He sighed and looked to Germany, the hint of a smug smirk in his expression. "And your brother has been drinking all day. The only reason he isn't passed out is due to you two's stupid German ways. I trust you're capable of keeping an eye on him, hm?" That said, France left the pub with Italy, complaining wearily about the idiots he had as friends.
It took a couple of second for Prussia to catch up with the flurry of movement. He stared up at Germany blankly, and then burst into drunken giggles, falling into the blond's lap as he clutched his shaking sides. "Lovi, PMSing! Oh that's great! He does PMS, doesn't he? I wouldn't be surprised if he really is a girl and just hiding the fact!"
Red eyes brimming with tears, Prussia stared at Germany for a few more seconds before bursting into laughter again. "What a cowinkydink West is here! What are you doing here West? The chances of you being here are crazy awesome! Just can't stay away from the awesome me, huh?"
Ludwig in turn just maneuvered the drunken man out of his lap and into a sitting position in the seat, releasing a sigh. "I'd just heard there was good Bier, is all." As usual, it wasn't as if he was telling a full on lie. The fifth mug of beer was half empty atop the table before him, the rest tossed back in his attempts to calm himself during the various escapades of this albino and his French… Butt buddy. Still, it was hardly up to par with the alcohol intake of this Prussian. All the same Ludwig was beginning to feel a little buzzed. A light pink powdered his cheeks. "And Italy was whining that his feet hurt from all the walking." Okay, so that was a total farce. Karma was going to come and bite him in the butt after today. Butt…
"So you and France were the schwul couple we were hearing about," the German mumbled out between his finishing off his beverage in one swig.
"Wow people were talking about me?" Prussia exclaimed, plopping down into his brother's lap again, kicking his feet into the air. "Ah, wait, fuck ew! They were talking 'bout me and Francis as a couple?" He turned to his side and buried his head into Germany's stomach. "No wonder those she-bitch clones approached us. Uugh, West make them stop talking!"
"Guh!" Prussia was being his usual drunken self. Even sober he had the tendency to randomly shower Ludwig with affection, but it was worse when alcohol was introduced into his system. Being who he was, public displays of affection just weren't Ludwig's cup of tea… Er, mug of beer.
Fortunately he could blame the rising crimson tint to his condition. Stubbornly, he again moved Gilbert off of him. "Stop doing that, Bruder. Du bist ein Blödmann. Ein betrunkener Blödman." In his words Germany was relieved now that France had left his brother be. If he was this inebriated, it wasn't good for them to be together.
"Come on, it's about time we left for home," he finally said, leaving no room for argument while all the same gingerly pulling his brother up and paying for their drinks before walking the both of them out the door. At their exiting he glanced about them. "Now where did France go with Italy…?"
Pang. It was sudden and abrupt - the sharp stabbing in his chest - and it seemed to resonate in his head. What had caused it, Prussia wasn't completely sure… But what he was positive about was the fact something about what Germany said bothered him.
"Ooii, West," he slurred as he stepped in front of the German, pressing their bodies close. Prussia slipped his arms around Germany's neck to keep himself steady. Lip sticking out in a pout he asked, "why do you wanna go looking for that vergewaltiger und kind? Do you not like hanging with your bruder anymore?"
No doubt it wasn't the sudden weight on him that tipped the center of Ludwig's gravity for a short moment. He stumbled a little, taking a small step backwards as his immediate response to the movements. Wide spheres of ice met the blood red orbs, both sets a little glazed over from the drinking. "Was sagst du, Bruder? You live with me. Are you not always 'hanging' with me?"
A blond brow rose. Wasn't Gilbert the one that kept leaving to spend time with France? Ludwig voiced this now. "Bruder, you're the one that's been running off to Spain and France these days. Stop being so strange. Come on, we need to find everyone so we can get out of here." Yeah, so he can fend off the rising blush. Why the hell was Gilbert being so damn clingy tonight?
"I dun' know. 'M not strange," Prussia muttered, looking up at the blond thoroughly flushed. "I just dun' know anymore. Why am I so confused West?"
As he spoke, Prussia slowly closed the distance between their faces. Once eye level and half-lidded red met wide blue, a sudden urge filled Prussia. An urge he couldn't quite explain, but oh he really wanted to… So why not? They were so close anyways… As if he was in slow motion, Prussia tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips against Germany's.
There are various forms of shock. At times one screams or yelps at a sudden interruption and jumps away. Others, eyes widen to dinner plates and jaw drops to the floor. Right now, Ludwig wasn't experiencing either. It was the level of shock that left someone so completely motionless in that very alarm, allowing them no such movement. So he'd been kissed before, nothing big. He was friends with Italy, after all. Hell, his brother had kissed him before. On the cheek, or at times on the lips just to annoy him. But what in the world-
Astonishment dissipated at an alarming rate, likely attributed to the late hour and variety of alcohol in him now. It melted into something very unexpected: acceptance. His stiff frame relaxed, reacted automatically to the warm sensation in his lips soon branching to his other areas. Germany found himself tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Right there, right then, in the middle of crowds of people milling about, he was kissing his brother, both of them in a drunken stupor. And what did he do? He brought up a hand to the back of that head of silver locks, lids heavy. Sure, there was that voice yelling, screaming streams of German in the back of his thoughts, but with each passing moment of that sweet kiss it became smaller and smaller.
But it wasn't enough. Even as the blond returned the kiss, leaned into it and returned it despite all of Prussia's doubts, something was missing. His body obviously knew the answer, for his tongue slowly snaked between his lips and ran across Germany's mouth, asking for entrance. And that's when sense returned to Prussia. What the hell was he doing? This was Germany, Ludwig, West, his brother. Why was he kissing him? Why was he enjoying it? Why did he want more?
"Fuck!" The albino yelled, pulled back from Germany, stumbling as he did so. He was breathing heavily and a raging blush consumed his body, showing through his worn face paint. There were confused tears in his eyes as he stared, wide eyed, at his brother. His brother. That he had just kissed.
"FUCK!" Prussia yelled again. He was backing away from Germany even more, gradually getting faster until… Prussia turned on his heels and ran. Ran as if the devil was on his trail, which he probably was. He'd just kissed his brother! What was wrong with him?
End of Chapter Four
Go-chan doing the translations again~ With this chapter I did a lot of research into Carnaval, and have decided I want to see it very much so . For reals, go look up some of the pictures. It's amazing… Ahem, anyway. Some of my German is falling apart at the seams and I know it. If you can correct me, please do. And on a side note .… Smut writer or not, I squealed with the first kiss */w/*
Namely, the personification of a nation birthed by men serving a Catholic order, and another where said organization is now largely based and associated with = Okay, so it seems I need to give a bit of background on this statement seeing as I've had a few ask about it ^^; So, the country of Prussia literally started when land was granted to the Teutonic Knights, whom I hope everyone knows. You know, knights of the Church and whatnot. Today they're specifically called a German organization and are largely based there. So… Yeah, the origin of that one
Drang nach Osten = Literally translates to, 'push to the east.' A German military phrase. Prussia being also known as East Germany, I thought it fitting~
Halte die Klappe = Shut up
Danke = Thank you
Bier = Beer
Schwul = Homosexual/gay
Du bist ein Blödmann. Ein betrunkener Blödman. = You are an idiot. A stupid drunk man
Vergewaltiger und Kind = Rapist and child
Was sagst du, Bruder = What are you saying, Brother
Cohete = Rocket
Ils sont = they are
Je devine ainsi = I guess so
Ce qui est incorrect = what is wrong
Any other scattered French... I'm pretty sure you can get...