.~.~.~.~.
The day of the meeting arrived to fill Italy's stomach with acid, burning every inch of his insides all the way up to his throat. He and Germany were the first ones in the room, sorting last minute things with the staff while the rest of the nations slowly trickled in, hushed with whispers and the occasional scraping of a chair as they took their seats. North Italy tried his best to not look across the table or to his right, but it seemed his eyes treacherously wanted to settle there as he repeatedly caught himself staring at one of them, as if waiting for someone to fill them.
Slowly the din in the room swelled in volume as more nations arrived, and North Italy spent his time greeting people, heart racing as he exchanged pleasantries as distractions. America beamed at him and clapped him on the back, greeting him exuberantly and asking how he was before wandering off to be intercepted by China. England greeted him warmly, but his smile was strained and deformed from a bandaged cut across his cheek. Japan said hello quietly and politely, but North Italy caught his eyes wandering to Greece's empty seat repeatedly, and eventually left him to his own devices, nodding in understanding. Hello, how are you, I am fine. Lies and lies and more forced pleasantries, his heart racing the entire time and making his stomach turn.
Soon enough the meeting started, and North Italy returned to his seat, unusually quiet as discussion began and nations argued on what to do. Slide after slide of facts and names and incidents went across the screen explaining the situation in Spain and Portugal and the growing unrest in Greece and now in his own southern half, the middle east caught in revolution again, and North Italy didn't have the stomach to even bother taking notes as the dread grew and coiled and burned his insides.
Lealtad, estabilidad y protección was the European Spanish-led rebelling party's motto, born from anger over corruption and poor spending by their governments; Del Pueblo, the people, stood up for themselves. Spain fell at their hands with the hope of rebirth—Portugal disappearing with him. South Italy was seeing riots from the backlash. Greece hung onto a string weakening from mismanagement, his people inspired from the unrest in the west and the east. The rest of the world was losing their footing in the process, down the slippery slope the world economy had become.
They were trying their best, but as the meeting went on and the slides and faces of his fellow nations went by, tired and angry and old, North Italy only had the sickening feeling that there was nothing they could do.
We thought we were immortal. Now we are faced with the reality we've been trying to avoid for centuries—that nothing is permanent, not even nations. Everything crumbles to dust.
Ashes, ashes, until we all fall down…
.~.~.~.~.