Well, I still haven't found any concrete Portugal info yet. And you know what that means... it's time for her to kick Spain's ass! (whee~~) Not in this chapter. Soon, though.
Lots of Su-san action in this chapter. Belarus hasn't found Spain yet, but when she does you can bet it'll be every bit as ugly as the Swedish-Belarusian war is turning out to be.
Lunchtime.
"Ve~~~~, pastaaaaa!" Italy chirped as he skipped down the hall to the kitchen. There were several scattered throughout the house, great huge restaurant-style ones with separate cooking stations and whatnot, and after a very heated debate (during which Germany was picked up by some exasperated African nations and thrown out of the discussion), it was decided that the countries would be divided according to continent and assigned to a particular kitchen. Immediately after the negotiations were complete, Italy dashed off, hoping to find a good spot before the other hungry nations flooded the place. He found Romano standing there alone, munching on a panino he'd made for himself. "Ve, Nii-chan, is there any pasta?" he said, opening the cupboards. Shelves of bread and flour and rice greeted him. But no pasta.
"Dumbass, if there was I'd have cooked it already," Romano grumbled, licking bread crumbs off his fingers. "They haven't sent tomatoes here yet either, those bastards. Meh. At least the ham is good."
"Ve…" Italy's face fell.
"I really don't feel like cooking anyways. Let's go see what Spain's making. Maybe we can scrounge something from him."
Spain, unfortunately, had decided to fix lunch for his twenty-odd Hispanophone children, and was frantically chopping vegetables while some of his older kids were shelling shrimp. "This will be the most epic paella ever!" the Spaniard declared as Italy and Romano stared in disbelief. "It'll be so epic, we can use it to take over the world! Bwahahahaha!"
Romano started freaking out. "Holy shit!" he cried. "Russia's brainwashed you! Oh hell, it's the end of the universe!"
A young businessman-type in a neatly-pressed suit stood in the walk-in freezer, shivering as he scanned row after row of ingredients. "Siao!" Singapore grumbled, in an accent as thick as his coke-bottle glasses. "That damn Cheena, making me get his ingredients for him! And Japan too. Stupid bodohs, the whole lot of them." He spotted what he was looking for and hauled it off the shelf. He reached for the door, only to find that it was closed, and there was no handle on this side. "Shit!" he swore. "It's just like in the movies! Why this happen to me?
"I'm a tropical nation wat!"
"And so," Germany mumbled to himself as he cut up some wurst, "I fell victim to my own strict rules." He sighed. "Good lord, my eyes…" He would forever be scarred by the sight of Poland in that bikini. Oh well, maybe imagining Feliciano in the same outfit might soothe his mind a little. He looked up as Switzerland entered the room. "I told you to organize them by continent, Vash," he chided. "We have Egypt rooming with New Zealand and China with Denmark…"
"I told you I was going to match them up randomly," the Swiss huffed, "but I assure you, it wasn't my fault. Italy had them all categorized already and I just paired them up within each group." He retrieved the paper from his pocket.
Germany read the list:
"Europe: England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Greenland? Russia (that one's debatable)… blah blah blah… Finland, Bulgaria, Greece, Monaco… What the heck? Belize? Madagascar? Canada? (Whoa someone remembered him.) Hungary… Netherlands… Paraguay? ANTARCTICA? Oh, Feliciano…" He rubbed his temples to ward off his impending headache.
"I told you so." Switzerland poured himself a glass of water.
"Gott…" Germany shook his head. "No wonder everything's a huge mess." He looked at Switzerland. "And you? What were you doing? Why didn't you correct any of it?" Switzerland pointedly looked away. Then Germany noticed something was amiss. "Hey Vash, where's your gun?"
Switzerland patted his chest. The holster strap that went across it was gone. "Huh. I don't recall…"
Germany facepalmed. "Great. Now we have a crazy axe murderer on the loose too."
"I think you mean gun murderer."
...
England trudged reluctantly through the undergrowth, following the pale braid in front of him as it weaved its way in and out of the trees. "Sis, I think we should head back," he said timidly, glancing around warily.
"Nonsense, Arthur!" Wales ducked under a low-hanging branch. England failed to notice it and got hit in the face. "Why conform to plain ol' bread and butter when you can experience the thrill of the hunt?"
England sighed. "We're heading deeper and deeper into the woods and I have no idea how we're going to get back," he said. "There's probably nothing in here worth hunting anyway."
Just then, a rabbit darted out of a blackberry bush and scrambled out of their way.
Wales looked back, smirking. "You were saying?"
"W-well, it's only a puny little—whoa, what? Sis, where did you get the gun?" He gasped as his sister held up a long, skinny object wrapped in cloth.
"It's a secret, Arthur~~"
"Bloody hell… God, save me, I'm scared…"
Wales unwrapped the cloth and took aim. A loud bang echoed through the woods. There was an explosion of feathers and flapping as several birds took flight. "Damn, I missed!"
"Uh… I-isn't th-th-that an u-umbrel-lla?" England pointed a shaky finger at the object.
Wales looked down. "Oh! You're right! It is! Huh, I must've grabbed the wrong thing then!" She giggled. England clapped a hand over her mouth. "Wha—? Arthur—"
"Shh!" he hissed. "If all you have is an umbrella… then…" He gulped.
"Who fired that shot?"
"Hm, you know what we should have?" Thailand mused as he rummaged through the drawers.
"Hmm?" said Myanmar.
"Fried rice."
"But the Spanish what's-his-face person thing is already making paella," said Malaysia.
"Idiot, paella isn't fried rice! Hm! That stuff is just cooked in broth! No, I mean actual fried rice. And besides, what does it matter what other nations are making for lunch?" He adjusted his glasses. "So? What do you say? Shall we?"
"Um, where's Victor?" Malaysia piped up.
"I think Yao and Kiku made him run some errands," said Myanmar. "Something about pork and chicken." She blinked. "Hey, you don't suppose…"
Silence.
Thailand and Malaysia looked at each other. "You'd have to get meat from the freezer…" said Malaysia thoughtfully. His eyes widened. "Oh! The freezer…!"
"Ana~!" cried Thailand. "We'd better go check on him!"
Finland was wandering through the halls when he was suddenly seized and pulled into a closet. "Ohyaaaaaaa! Rape! Rape!" he screamed, flailing his arms about, until a large hand clamped itself over his mouth and a voice said, "Hush!" His eyes widened. "S-Su-san?"
Sweden brought his finger to his lips as he glanced out warily. "That b'tch's try'ng t' kill me," he whispered. "I placed a d'coy in m' bed b't she'll fig're it out s'n."
Belarus opened the door a tiny crack and peered inside. Her eyes glinted evilly at the sight of the lump underneath the covers. Stealthily, she slipped into the room, brandishing her knife. "I told you I'd get you for this!" she cackled as she stabbed the blade right in the middle of the lump. She frowned. Something wasn't right. She pulled the blanket back.
A blue body pillow lay on the mattress. The ugly face scribbled on it leered at her.
"CURSESSSSSS!"
"S-S-Su-san… You poor thing…" Finland patted his shoulder. "Come have some cheesecake with me."
"Th'nks, but I can't. I g'tta stay in hid'ng f'r a bit. List'n, y' gotta tell Spain t' be caref'l, ok'y? She'll be aft'r 'im too."
Finland nodded. "All right. I'll go do that right now." He turned to leave but Sweden grabbed him and pulled him back. "Eh? Su-san—"
Several minutes later, when Norway, wondering why Finland still hadn't made it to the dining table, searched for him, he found the two making out in the closet. He stared. Sweden and Finland stopped kissing and stared back. A full minute passed. Norway closed the closet door quietly and staggered off. After a few paces the shock finally got to him and he sank to his knees, shuddering.
"N-Norway? Are you okay?" said Haiti, who was passing by.
"I think I just developed closet-phobia," the Norwegian muttered.
"I have not been brainwashed!" said Spain reassuringly. "It's just that the paella really is epic enough for world domination! Right, Juan?"
Mexico grinned. "Yes, Papá!"
Romano only freaked out even more. "Oh my god! He got Mexico too! Save me…"
"Vietnam~~~~~~"
Upon hearing her name, the girl immediately lashed out with her oar. It caught France in the gut just as he was about to jump her. "Leave me alone," she said, slinging the trusty paddle over her shoulder.
"But I miss you!" the Frenchman protested. "I've been busy with work and you've been hanging out with that Thailand of yours all the time! We haven't talked to each other in so long!" He put on a kicked-puppy look.
"Maybe it's better that way," said Vietnam. "Don't delay me, I've got people waiting." With that, she continued on her way, not even sparing him a backward glance.
France sighed. "They've all grown up… I can't even approach them anymore…"
"Molesting little girls again, Francis?"
France turned around. "Estefânia!" he cried. "Hey, long time no see! How are you doing?"
The woman shrugged. "I've got aches and pains all over the place but at least I'm up and about."
"Hahaha! Of course! Man, it's so great to see you back among us! They started a show about us called Hetalia, and the fans are so upset that you haven't shown up in it yet! Say, do you want me to, ah, tell Arthur you're here?"
She ignored his last remark. "Have you seen João?"
"Oh, him! I think he was hanging out with Antonio's kids. They've probably gone outside to eat, since it so sunny. Hey, Estefânia, wanna join me for lunch? I have crepes~~~!"
"No thanks." A dark look flashed in her eyes. "João, that damn ingrate… Lino, Paulo, let's go find your brother." She strode off, her coat flapping dramatically behind her. Two small boys raced after her, flanking her on both sides.
France shuddered. Somewhere a certain South American Lusophone was about to die…
"I like noodles~~" sang China as he pulled and folded the dough repeatedly (hand-pulled noodles are the best, yum! I highly suggest you try them if you ever get the chance.) "Huh. Singapore was supposed to be back with the pork by now. I wonder where he is?"
"Boz! Boz! Wait up!"
Bosnia turned. Croatia was standing there with a frying pan, smiling manically. Immediately, he raised his hands in front of him in defense. Croatia laughed. "Don't be so paranoid, Boz, I'm just returning this to Elizabeta. See? I didn't even raise it or anything."
"Bah. Don't scare me like that." Bosnia crossed his arms. "Where's Senka?"
"Herzé? She's right," he turned around, "behind… me…" His jaw dropped. The corridor was empty. "What the heck? How does she just disappear like that?"
"It's magic~~!" said Herzegovina as she suddenly popped up behind him. "Well, not really. I saw Sweden crawling into the ventilation system and thought, why not give it a try? It was so fun! We can spy on people like that!" She grinned.
Bosnia sighed. "Oh no… Senka, please, no…"
"Wait, Sweden is in there?" said Croatia. "Isn't he kind of… too big to fit?"
"Well, it's only the narrower pipes he can't get through," said Herzegovina. "I'm sure he'll be fine."
"I'm n't fine at 'll," Sweden mumbled, fidgeting uncomfortably. His arms were pinned to his sides, with his elbows bent and hands underneath his shoulders. Behind him, the pipe had constricted his leg room vastly, leaving only enough space to fling his foot up about three inches. His clothes were chafing horrifically and his belt buckle was digging painfully into his skin. "Well, this is gr't…
"I'm stuck."
There was a grille about a foot in front of him. With great effort, he wriggled over like a worm and peered down. A fan had been installed there. Through the gaps between the blades, he saw a white porcelain bowl. He was above someone's bathroom.
There was hope after all! He sucked in a breath to call for help, just as someone came inside. Suddenly his breath hitched in his throat. He quickly exhaled and managed to keep his voice from spilling out. That was close, he thought to himself.
It was Belarus down there.
Just his luck! Sweden prayed she would go away soon, but somewhere in his bowels he knew she wouldn't. The fact that she was here probably meant he'd somehow crawled into the air duct right above his own room. And that meant he risked facing her even late at night, when he could otherwise have been free to make a giant ruckus as he slowly worked his way free. He was screwed with a capital S-C-R-E-W-E-D.
But wait, what was that?
Sweden noticed that Belarus had brought a towel and a change of clothes with her. Uh-oh. That couldn't turn out well…
His eyes widened when the woman began taking her clothes off.
Fear not, they're never becoming a couple. Eww, that would make me projectile-vomit right over my laptop into my mom's lap.
Introducing Wales, a character design thought up by Artemis Queen of the Stars! Overview:
Name:Enid Gwalchmai
Age: well, looks 30
Bio: England's older sister. When they were younger, they lived together quite happily. Then Roman Empire invaded and took a prefrence to her brother and so used to bully the little girl. As a result, England thinks he can bully her too and is quite controlling of her and likes to say what she can and can't do. Used to wander around barefoot in warpaint and weilding spear when she was younger (harking back to Celtic warriors), she now wears hiking boots, jeans and a cagule and is often seen carrying a lamb). Very friendly, sometimes lapses into her old language (eg: "Arthur, you been fighting Alfie again? You need a cwitch" (welsh for hug)). Also rather close to Argentina who also has a tendancy to lapse into Welsh. Even though her and Arthur argue a lot, they get on with one thing: RUGBY. Often play it together.
Looks: Very well built with long bushy blonde hair which she wears in a french plait, big green eyes. Rather muscular arms and chesty (I'm not playing to a stereotype at all lol)
Many thanks for the suggestion! Now for some suckier other OC bios:
Singapore (Victor Tan): Described in the chapter itself. He speaks Singlish and is always annoyed at people. Hangs out with Thailand, Malaysia, India and Myanmar. Indonesia keeps calling him Temasek (his old name, before Raffles took over). A basic translation of what he says in this chapter is: "Geez! That damn Chinaman, making me get his ingredients for him! And Japan too. Stupid idiots, the whole lot of them... I'm a tropical nation, it's not my fault!" Yeah, I love him lots. I used to live in his vital regions. It was hot and steamy, but please let's not go there...OAO
Haiti: Only a passer-by nation mentioned so far.
Myanmur: Female, ~23 years old? Keeps a lovely color-point cat with white paws.
Malaysia: Haven't decided much on him yet but maybe he and Singapore are gay together. Yeah, that definitely sounds appealing. Not really...
(Estefania): Who knows. Yet. ;)
São Tomé and Príncipe (Lino and Paulo): A hint as to who the mysterious Estefania might be. Hmm...
(João): Someone who is in deep shit. Seriously. And, as a side note, a Lusophone is a Portuguese-speaker. Suddenly all the mystery disappears, doesn't it.
Bosnia (Petar Kovacevic): Kind of cold and cynical. Has OCD-like tendencies.
R&R~