29. The Creativity Within

Date Written: February 26, 2019

Date Posted: September 21, 2019

Characters: Veneziano, England, Romano, Seborga

Summary: England is stuck on what sort of present he should give to Sealand. Veneziano tries his utmost to help.

Notes:

"You could try asking him—"

"I am not asking a young child, a hundredth of my age, his opinion on what I should get him for his birthday."

England huffed as he brought his arms across his chest, a scowl on his pale face. He was seated at the annual meeting for all Nations and he would rather not be there, thank you very much. Despite his feelings, the meeting had gone well; America and France were busy talking about some private matters that England would rather not get into, his British brothers were all too busy with their own political agendas, and he didn't need to present that day.

For some odd reason, Italy had approached him for some opinions based on the financial state of affairs in the Mediterranean community. The conversation had evolved from such matters to that of family and, of course, England just had to bring up the topic of Micronations and their birthdays.

The second of September was fast approaching and England was at a loss of what to get the young boy. Sealand and him had never gotten along, especially since the child had tried gaining independence away from him. England and the rest of Britain did not officially recognize Sealand as a Nation, and neither did the rest of the world. However, that didn't stop England from being diligent as a good older brother to his...psuedo-relation...thing...that was Sealand.

Yet, good intentions never equaled better results, so it felt fitting to ask Italy, who also had a brother who was a Micronation amidst his borders, for some advice.

England had thought that Italy would brush it off with some advice about pasta, but the man actually he looked like he was contemplating something.

"Well," Italy began with some hesitation, "you could always grant him—"

"He is a child with delusions of grandeur." England seethed. It was a big mistake opening up to Italy like this. Why did he even think about asking him? He was—

Well now.

Wasn't that amusing.

Italy was laughing at him.

"Oh my, Inghilterra! I was just joking!" Italy held up his hands in a placating manner. "You're free to grant him independence if you want, but it was all just a joke. However, you really should do talk to him. Have fun somewhere. Dig deep within yourself and be creative!"

"But I don't like talking to him. He's always whining about something." At Italy's unimpressed glare, England sulked. "Fine, maybe I am acting childish, but it's been almost a decade since I've last seen him and Sweden said that he would appreciate it more if I send more than just the customary birthday cards."

Italy balked. "You-you...how...just cards?"

Honestly, at the look of such aghast disappointment, England would have laughed, but he was already feeling the guilt eating at him.

"Homemade cards," England stressed. "Even though I can't lay claim to your artistic skills, I can still use watercolors and calligraphy fairly decently and my poetry far surpasses yours."

Now, Italy could have been offended at that last comment, but now wasn't the right time for that. He could disagree and kick England's ass later; Sealand needed him for a good birthday gift.

"Why don't you just visit him?"

"But—"

"Listen, amico, I know that the last time you've seen him must have been at least a decade ago. And even then, Sealand was the one to visit you nearly all the time. Sometimes the best gift is your presence."

England glared at him. "I'd rather you make puns in your own language."

"But you see where I'm going with this, right?"

England sighed for a moment but stopped when he realized that he had been sighing for most of the day anyway.

"I'll discuss visiting when I talk to Sweden the next time I see him."

Italy smiled, happy that he convinced England to be a better brother. "Molto bene!"

Perhaps he should visit Seborga soon, as well.

.

.

.

Which led Veneziano to actually visit Seborga in his little house in his equally small nation.

Although Seborga was just as old as Veneziano, he never could quite get the physical age of that of a twenty year old. He remained quite youthful in appearance—in fact, America even claimed (once he got his head out of his own arse to recognize Seborga as an independent Nation within Italy's borders), that he looked older than Seborga himself. Seborga didn't really care about appearances (unless it had something to do with pretty women), or about his age. Seborga was simply one of the forgotten Italy brothers who still managed to survive until present day.

So, it came to pass that on one day, Seborga had arrived at his little house after a long day of walking around and playing with small children and flirting with the pretty girls. He walked into his house and was greeted with his two older brothers, Veneziano and Romano, and found himself fearing for the worst.

It wasn't every day that a Nation just happened to visit their respective Micronations without good reason.

It simply wasn't done and it technically wasn't necessary for them to check up on their small constituent that lived within their shared borders.

"What's wro—" Seborga stepped into his brother's space, but found himself gripped with a tug from the both of them. At first, Seborga was in shock. Did something happen to their President? Was there a terrorist attack? It wasn't until he felt his brothers kiss his cheeks and small greetings of "Happy Birthday!" that he cracked and asked, "What's this about? You usually just call—especially since we're all busy!"

Veneziano, bubbly with excitement, told him that he was reminded to show his little brother some love after having a talk with England.

Romano was a little gruff. He had been meaning to have some dinner with Seborga for a couple years now, it just seemed like a good idea to have his ideas align with Veneziano's.

Regardless, Seborga didn't care.

He liked having his brothers' attention on him for once.