67. A Family Matter
Date Written: July 5, 2019
Date Posted: November 14, 2020
Characters: Veneziano, Egypt
Summary: Veneziano and Egypt talk about the past amidst an almost empty meeting hall.
Notes:
On a warm, summer day, Egypt walked from the muggy atmosphere of the outside and into the brisk, air conditioned building. The meeting was adjourned for a quick lunch break, but knowing the rest of his comrades, the lunch break would extend for at least another quarter of an hour as some would struggle in from restaurants a bit too far from the meeting area, or procrastination—cruel mistress as she was—would grab hold of them.
Once Egypt walked through the maze of hallways and up a flight of stairs, he finally reached the area meant for his fellow Nations. It was a fairly old auditorium, but more than big enough to suit their needs. The host Nation for the event had tried opting for something more opulent, but due to booking issues, there was nothing more that could be done. For the most part, Egypt didn't care about the location itself. As long as they were able to get their meeting over and done with, then the location didn't matter much.
Egypt scanned his surroundings, intending to sit in the same seat as before (which was close to the other Mediterranean Nations and some of his fellow Africans, but someone was already sitting there. Not wanting to disturb this person (who was speaking animatedly with Cameroon), Egypt opted for another empty seat.
Thank goodness the meeting wasn't exactly mandatory this time around so their seats weren't organized by placard or name tag. As he settled himself in an area that was surrounded by several islands of empty chairs, he didn't quite notice that another gaggle of Nations had passed through the door. As they chattered amongst themselves—their voices growing louder and louder as the seats surrounding Egypt probably belonged to them—Egypt chose a seat at random and began perusing through his documents.
As luck would have it, those straggling Nations that had come in were of the warm, Mediterranean type. Not exactly the worst thing in the world, but when Egypt wanted to get the meeting over as soon as possible, it became a bit… irritating.
Still, Egypt kept his head bent low and closed his eyes, eager to rest for a little more before the meeting resumed. Much to his bemused displeasure, a voice called out to him in what Egypt could ascertain was friendly concern.
Egypt opened his eyes and willed himself not to look too surprised.
For some odd reason, Egypt found out that his seat was remarkably close to Italy's chair. In fact, if he were to deign a closer look, it appeared that Italy—
"Ciao! How are you today, Egypt?"
The African Nation sighed, but canted his head in affirmation that was doing quite all right.
As a man of very few words, a fact known to most if not all Nations, he thought that Veneziano would not push the matter of pleasantries further. However, as Egypt all too eagerly perused the day's agenda, that was simply not the case.
"You know, I kind of always wanted to ask you a question."
Egypt quirked a brow, but remained silent.
In a tone that would have brooked no argument or much for pleasantries, Italy asked, "Do you miss your mother?"
Blanching at the suddenness of such a question, Egypt made a short, shocked noise that not many would have heard unless they had exceptional good hearing or were paying close attention to him. Unfortunately for him, Italy was both those things.
As Egypt debated whether or not he should grace Veneziano with his answer, Italy twisted in his seat to get a better read of his companion's face. Although youthful in nature, Veneziano still held a sort of wariness in his posture that either came from age or experience.
Veneziano had both in spades.
Egypt, still a little shocked at such a ridiculously personal question, could only jerk his head more in affirmation that he had heard his companion and not because he was answering the original question. Still, though, Italy was grateful for the response. It was rare that they spoke so familiarly with one another even though their territories were fairly close.
"Sorry if I'm being a little forward here," the Italian laughed. "Romano and the rest of our group were reminiscing about our predecessors and then we were talking about Rome and Gaul and then, you know! All of us wanted to know about how your mother and if you still remember her because we also had a talk with Greece and he said—"
Egypt held up a hand, his tolerance for long winded speeches having reached its peak only a couple words into Veneziano's ramble.
"I see." Egypt, in fact, did not see, but that was besides the point. He focused on Veneziano's warm brown eyes and said, "I do."
For a moment, Egypt thought that Italy would leave the matter be. Unfortunately, the European was born to speak and socialize. If Germany or his brother wasn't present for distraction, then Veneziano would have to make do with Egypt's lackluster proclivity to speaking.
North Italy, now completely facing his dark skinned companion, tried to regain his fellow Nation's attention by poking Egypt in the face. Fortunately for Egypt, his eyes were quick to catch the movement and his hands were even quicker to catch the Italian's wrist. To his credit, Italy didn't flinch. Instead, he quickly countered with a poke from his uncompromised hand. Yet again, Egypt held fast. "Come on, Egypt! It's all in harmless fun."
Olive green eyes flecked with gold and brown narrowed ever so slightly.
Veneziano's hands went slack. Satisfied that Veneziano wouldn't ry to attack him again in jest, Egypt let the auburn haired man go. Immediately, Veneziano's eyes drifted to his wrists; the fingerprints of the Egyptian's steely grasp faded with a few experimental taps to the skin.
"But, I am truly curious." Veneziano settled back into his seat so that only two legs of the chair was precariously balancing his weight. He looked at Egypt. "Surely you can at least elaborate."
Egypt shook his head. Quite adamantly, in fact.
Veneziano rolled his eyes.
"Come on, not even a small retelling of your favorite memory of her?"
"She was my mother." Deadpan and point blank, Egypt couldn't help but a little spark of mischief color his words. "What's more to say?"
The Italian's eyes bulged out of their sockets. "Oh, come—"
Egypt, still a little bit touched by his dosage of mischief, flicked Veneziano on the nose. As always, the Italian took his little action to hear and began to flail about until he slipped off his chair and onto the ground.
Egypt sighed.
Kneeling beside the Italian, Egypt leaned a little bit closer to Veneziano's ear, a whisper resting gently on his tongue, waiting to be said.
"I loved her very much… and I suppose that you can say the same for the Great Roman Empire."
