'Ey, it's me again. Side note, have I ever even told anyone what my job is? 'Cause I don't remember doing so, all I remember is complaining to ya'll about how long the shifts are and how much it takes up my time. Well, if I haven't said so before, I'm a lifeguard. Cool huh? I can guard lives. And stand in the sun all day and peel my skin off. And shiver in the rain when they refuse to close the waterpark due to a storm, just 'cause it didn't have any lightning. And get the flu because of that. *sniffle cough wheeze* Did I mention how much I love writing as a career? Sit on my rear all day, eat yummy food, and rule over a cosmos of my own making. Not to mention have people say very nice things about said cosmos(es). Having a real job sucks. On the plus side, me and my sister got cosplays for this one anime convention that was suddenly scheduled way earlier in the year than we thought it would be, and we're the 2ps! She's 2p!England, I'm 2p!America. I don't know how I look in my costume, since the red contacts haven't arrived yet, but I do know my sister looks eerily like Oliver. I'll post a picture on deviantart when I get mine together too; you'll see what I'm talking about.
August 26, 2015
Arya's POV:
After Britain ushered me into the house and gave me a tour of its layout so I "wouldn't go into another American space-out and get lost", then left me in my room to unpack. It was –luckily– not one of the rooms/hallways I had stumbled across when running from the 2p!s, and, if I had to be brutally honest, not as off-the-chain-awesome as my room in Italy.
Sure, it was pretty freaking cool, but still, I was kinda missing all the warm sun and artistry of Italy's house. The whole room was paneled in dark brown mahogany, with the floors a much smoother and sounder wood than what Italy had. Probably because England was a bit more careful about his house maintenance.
The bed was still a hell of a lot bigger than the one I had in Virginia –it had to be, it was a goddamn four-poster right out of a Victorian novel. The curtains were dark green, and the bed itself had plain white sheets and some pillows with dark green embroidery. There was a dresser-drawer for my clothes –no walk-in closet anymore, sadness– with an oval frame for what had probably once been a mirror, obviously now removed. There was also a wardrobe pushed up against another wall (did he expect me to go to Narnia or something?), and a nightstand with a lamp on it by the four-poster.
All in all, pretty swanky.
I had already unpacked the clothes I had bought here in Hetalia (including some very trendy outfits, courtesy of the Italian brothers and their fashionable cities), but not the ones that had already been in my apocalypse bag, including my now rather-dirty combat pajamas. That bag had come in handy many times over the past few months (had it really only been a few months?), including the battered journal I had hidden in one of the inside pockets. I cracked it open now and settled back against the pillows.
September 14, (current year), "Hetalia" Reckoning
(I had given up on keeping track via days, now I was just doing it by the normal calendar)
(Song) Quote for the Day:
"Hey hey daddy, give me some rum, hey hey mummy, hey hey mummy, I can't forget the taste of that pudding I ate before!" –(Song)
Weeeell…today was interesting. I met England "formally" for the first time, and boy, was there a lot of shouting involved. My throat still hurts. I mean, I know the guy is a tsundere, so he doesn't really mean to say mean things, but as far as I could tell today, he's still a total asshole. Anal retentive, hot-tempered, grumpy, a horribly cook, bad liar, and strict too.
God forbid he ever reads this, I'd be dead meat.
Anyway, my wish list is being completed as I write. It's sort of backhanded, since although I have more or less learned fluent German and very basic Italian, Japanese is still a complete mystery, and I've gotten in pretty good shape, but with all the shit I've been doing, my body's been getting a lot of scars, especially on my shoulders and arms. I haven't really done anything for actual, physical combat training other than the get in shape stuff, and I'm not sure what Britain will be teaching me as far as magic is concerned. I mean, Prussia's been teachin' me a few things about sword fighting, but I really haven't progressed beyond "how to hold the blade and not fall over", which, as I've recorded before, is a hell of a lot harder than it looks.
I can ask Britain about combat training too, I mean, he is the land of knights and so on. Not that sword training is really useful for anything but vampire hunting, at least, as far as the Hellsing universe goes, but ya never know.
Well, actually… in Soul Eater people still use swords. And in Kuroshitsuji, but those are fencing swords, which are way different than those goddamn monoliths Prussia says are swords.
But anyway, I could probably just ask Britain to teach me how to fight with just about anything, since he's been around for like forever, and knows how to fight with guns and swords and bombs and whatever the hell else has been invented between his creation and now. I mean, he is a pretty old-
"Miss Thompson?"
I squeaked and slammed the book shut, regardless of smearing the ink, my face slightly red. I did not want to be caught talking shit about the guy to his face, no matter how much of an asshole he was. I then looked up to see Britain leaning against the door, an odd look on his face. It took me a second to place the look as midway between "pissed-off" and "apologetic", something which only a tsundere seemed to be able to pull off without looking like he was having a stroke, and licked my lips nervously.
"Um, yeah?" I asked, and Britain cleared his throat awkwardly as he inserted a finger in his collar and tugged, loosening his tie.
"I am aware that our relationship got off on the wrong foot…I assure you, it was not my intention to offend you." he began stiffly, and by now I was feeling awkward.
"Well, um, same here. I didn't mean to blow up atcha, but you were being kinda…mean." I said slowly, groping for a word that was less offensive than "stereotyping asshole".
Britain shifted again, fidgeting with the buttons on his uniform, retightening his tie, and just displaying blatant delaying tactics in general. "Yes, well, we both were in the wrong then. I would like to hope that our time together will not be a constant struggle for common ground, so, without further ado…"
Here he held out his hand, and I hurriedly scooted off the bed and walked over, hesitating for a moment before taking his hand. England looked me in the eyes and gave me a smile that looked like it hurt his teeth, shaking my hand firmly. "Hello there, I'm the kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland." he rattled off formally, and I tried to smile back, returning the handshake.
"Aryana Thompson." I returned, feeling unbelievably awkward as his hand squeezed mine firmly and he then let go, backing away and then standing on one leg, looking equally unbalanced.
I tried to find something, anything, to break the silence that descended around us, but Britain beat me to it, his face tinged slightly red as he all but shouted the words.
"It's time for dinner anyways, so don't think I walked all the way up here just to apologize to you! I just don't want to have another shouting match over my food, so I decided to acknowledge your absolutely ridiculous position!" he blurted, and I grew an exasperated tick mark.
Fucking tsundere.
Then something occurred to me, and I paled. "Um, wait, so, dude…did you…cook?" I asked tremulously, and his poisonous green eyes glared at me from underneath those bushy monstrosities called eyebrows.
"Yes I bloody did! As if I'm about to force a guest, even a loudmouthed American brat like you, to cook for me! I'll have you know I'm a much better host than those Axis wankers!" he spat furiously, and I gulped.
"Well, um, I a-appreciate the gesture…" I managed to stammer out, wondering frantically if I could find some excuse to not eat whatever he would put in front of me without offending the touchy Brit even more. I think I had figured him out by now: he wasn't like Italy, who was bubbly and happy, or Prussia, who was a bit of a goof but an extremely loyal friend.
Being a tsundere, Britain was, to put it simply, a gentleman bastard. He'd do his noble best to remain formal and polite around people he hadn't already formed a grudge against, but if you lit his extremely short fuse, he'd blow up like a volcano, and he'd hold that grudge until the end of time. But he also probably got lonely, just like everybody else, which is probably the main reason he apologized to me, aside from his guilt…because stereotyping someone and then yelling at them when they tried to deny it wasn't very gentlemanly at all.
I tried not to look apprehensive as I put my journal back in my apocalypse bag and stood again, walking over to him. "So, like, lead the way dude." I said apprehensively, and he gave me a withering glare.
"…I have got to improve your grammar. I can't have you butchering the English language in my home, young lady." Britain said stuffily, and I nodded absently.
"Yeah, sure thing. Whatever." I mumbled, looking with interest at all the paintings he had hanging on his walls. Was it a country thing to collect just about every work of famous art their citizens ever made?
Probably.
He dragged me into the kitchen, where I looked apprehensively at the two plates of…something lying out on the counter. Britain took one plate and sat down at the nearby table, and I took the other, sitting across from him self-consciously.
I stared at my plate for a few seconds, trying to work up my nerve, before looking up at my "mentor". Britain was eating his…food…with obvious enthusiasm or obvious tastelessness –I honestly couldn't tell which– and I tentatively poked the sludge-colored mass on my plate with my fork. I scooped up a little bit with the metal implement, sent a prayer to god, and shoved it in my mouth.
This is…actually not that bad…I thought eventually, trying to ignore the fact the food had the consistency of oatmeal and was way too spicy. Not to mention it had weird lumps. And I think I bit down on something with a lot of small bones and/or a hard outer shell.
"Hey…Britain?" I eventually managed to choke out, and he looked up from his plate.
"Yes?" he asked briskly, and I groped for the glass of water at my side, taking in a deep gulp before answering.
"I get that you're trying to be hospitable n' all…but can I please make breakfast tomorrow? I've been doing it a while, an' I like to have my routines, ya know?" I pleaded, and he pursed his lips.
"Well…" he began hesitantly, and I frantically cast my mind around, then hit upon the perfect solution.
"I'll teach you how to make some really good pancakes. It's something my family's good at, and, although this is kinda good-" And I'm Mickey fucking Mouse. "-pretty much everyone says your cooking's shit, fans included."
"THEY SAY WHAT?!"
9.57 PM, USA Central Time
