Seychelles jumped nimbly onto the soft ground, her knees bending slightly underneath her. She paused to breathe in the smell of disturbed vegetation before setting off in a light jog to search for France's whereabouts.
All the while she thought of the things that had happened to her over the seemingly infinite stretch of ten years. How she had started off with that awful dream and ended up with the discovery of her true name. She had wondered briefly where it had come from, of course, when the adrenaline rush had worn off. But after a little while she had realized that there was really no way for her to know – seeing as she had literally nothing from the outside world to help her answer that question. Save for France. So she decided to wait and have him answer it.
And now he was here and not fighting and she felt light and fluffy and could dance for joy, but didn't really want to because that would be weird, right?
She wondered how well France's people fought. Were they strong and courageous? With France's incessant boasting, they must be. Seychelles couldn't wait for the stories.
Suddenly, she heard movement in the clearing to her right. There was a wall of vines hanging down in front of her face, but she knew of the clearing through the hundreds of years of exploring she had done.
She brushed aside a small clump and her eyes were met with the sight of France pacing to and fro, hat clenched and twisting back and forth in his hands and looking considerably less magnificent and sparkly than usual. His facial expression was fixed in an exceedingly large pout and every now and again he would make the most ridiculously pathetic noises.
Seychelles watched for a minute, unsure whether to be concerned or just plain disappointed in France's lack of bravado. She mulled it over for a bit before deciding to just let her presence be known. She really didn't know why she had waited so long anyway.
She strode out from behind the vines and called out to the idiot in front of her.
"Hey, France!"
He jumped about a foot in the air and simultaneously pivoted to face her as he fell back down to Earth, somehow making what should have been an awkward landing half-graceful.
And then he smiled and held out his arms. And Seychelles didn't even care that his smile seemed strained or that he wasn't showing off his perfect teeth because France was back and she was running, running straight into his arms and he scooped her up and swung her around and around and around. Her mind flashed back to a scene in a dream she had once where England didn't receive the hug he was expecting from America. How could one live without such comforting contact? Then he was laughing and she was laughing and everything was okay, she thought, and she even kind of, sort of blushed when he set her down and made a show of taking her hand and kissing it – extra long this time.
"Ma chèri," he murmured and straightened, smiling a tight-lipped smile.
She looked into his eyes (she was only about ten centimeters shorter than him now) and was slightly taken aback at how close they were. And how focused France was. He was doing that thing again – scrutinizing. And somehow managing to look quite beguiling at the same time. She fidgeted and he started slightly and took a step back, clearing his throat.
"Ah~! My apologies, ma chèri - for not visiting more often, but…wars are meant to be fought and with my superior strength and complete lack of fear…well." He appeared lost for a second before the light returned to his eyes. "How have you been these last few years without me?"
Seychelles laughed somewhat hesitantly and nudged him lightly in the arm. "Perfectly fine, thank you. Without you things are much better." She had expected France to play pretend and fake a sense of hurt, but instead he forced a laugh and mumbled something under his breath that Seychelles couldn't hear.
What was wrong with him? Maybe a nice talk would settle some things between them.
"Um. Come with me, France. Let's talk." She grabbed his hand firmly and led the way to the south-east – towards a scenic viewpoint that she had just discovered within the last twenty years or so. They would be comfortable there.
France seemed slightly surprised at the contact and followed without a struggle. Or a word. Which was even weirder.
They walked hand in hand for about ten minutes before reaching a large, circular opening partially hidden by the angle of the rocks around it in the now stony ground. France made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat and Seychelles shivered for some reason.
"This is such a cool place; I can't believe I haven't shown you before."
She led the way inside and the air became steadily cooler in their damp surroundings. After a few seconds, the tunnel opened up into a round-ish cavern, black and foreboding. The walls were perfectly smooth and small grains of quartz and other minerals would sparkle once in a while, if the light was right.
Seychelles looked back to see France grinning at his surroundings. She was sure he had seen his fair share of caves before. But…
"Just wait. It gets a lot better." She tugged on his hand and led him deeper in.
They walked forward again and the cavern reformed into the same cylindrical formation. It grew gradually smaller and smaller until it almost brushed the sides of their shoulders, and did France really have to be that close –
Until the tunnel suddenly ended and the Nation and future Nation stumbled out onto a wide ledge of beautiful formations – made out of the same smooth, somewhat sparkly rock of the cavern. There were rocky 'chairs' and seats and flat surfaces to lean on, sleep on, sit on and anything else anyone could imagine.
"The best part is the view." Seychelles gestured around to the ocean in front of them – stretching as far as the eye could see and long strips of perfect beaches stretching out to accompany it. Somehow the tunnel had brought them up and up to present them with this masterpiece of nature.
France looked out into the mass of blue for a long while. "It's gorgeous." The slightly breathless words seemed to melt off of his tongue.
"Uh…yup. Thanks." That was intelligent.
France's eyes seemed to drag away from the ocean and onto Seychelles. There was that strained smile again. Where was her France?
"So – what was it that you wanted to talk about, ma chèri?"
Right. "First of all, you can stop calling me that because – because – I finally know my name now! It's Seychelles!"
It was as if her words had reawakened the France that was sleeping inside this shell. His usual, falsely omnipotent smile adorned his features and his face seemed to glow with a new light.
"Aha~! C'est fantastique vraiment, ma - oh hon hon hon – Séchelles."
And with that he grasped her hand and twirled her around, expertly maneuvering their bodies so as not to hit any stray rocks and she couldn't help but emit a surprised exclamation of laughter at his sudden playfulness.
But when the twirl ended, she found herself pressed up against his chest and wasn't really sure of how she had gotten there. And he was smiling above her as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I see you are still wearing the ribbons I gave you, Séchelles." His voice was almost a purr and the young woman was drawn to it like a powerful magnet. "How…thoughtful."
She was drawn and immobile and he was confident and unmoving in whatever he was about to do, but something in his voice sparked a far off memory – a frightening memory of lust and hunger and not France, or was it France – ?
"Arêtes-la," she whispered and France looked confused – just a little.
"S'il vous plait." This time she found her voice and forcibly removed herself from France's loose (and certainly not extremely comforting, in the least) grasp.
He looked at her wearily, all trace of his normal self gone like the ever changing waves of the ocean. Then he sighed and collapsed onto a rock, head in his hands.
Seychelles stiffened in alarm at the sudden display of weakness; France never showed weakness. Did she really mean that much to him? Or was it the war? Pushing aside her insecurities, the young lady stepped quickly over to the Nation and gently removed his hands from his face. He wasn't crying, thank goodness, but when he looked up at her, she really had a chance to properly view his face. And she didn't like it one bit.
France had bags under his eyes and his usually healthy looking skin seemed gaunt, stretched and he hadn't been shaving very well. That is, he hadn't been shaving very artistically. His blond hair looked ashen in the sunlight and it drooped about his face in a way that 'normal France' wouldn't be caught dead with.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds and when she opened them again, they shone with a determined glow. She would get some answers. The answers that she wanted.
She knelt in front of him, pointedly removing her hands from his.
"France…what's the matter with you? And don't you dare try and hide behind your romantics - I know what that means now." Somehow her words seemed more juvenile than she had hoped for.
France sighed again and took a long time to finally speak.
"The world is a cruel place, Séchelles. Devoid of love and passion. Oh, how much better the world could be if mankind simply loved one another."
Seychelles considered smacking him on the head for continuing to rant on love instead of answering her question. But he opened his mouth again and she grudgingly let him continue. Maybe there was some sense floating around in his big head.
"The Austrian Succession all started due to lack of love, you know. Which is odd because Maria-Thérèsa is so beautiful… Anyway – the fighting was no problem for my, ah, strong and powerful French forces. We, eh, totally blew them away with our, um, might. And Prussia hardly did anything."
Seychelles chose not to comment on the comedic shakiness of his grin. Whatever. But soon his grin dissipated and his eyes remained downcast.
"One thing led to another and soon enough, stupid England had to take it to another level. I mean, come on! Always… He doesn't… He shouldn't…"
The young woman waited. And waited. And grew impatient. And scoffed. "What shouldn't he be doing, France?"
France fixed her with a glare and pouted. "He's always fighting with me to take my colonies away and it's getting extremely annoying, the fool. "Mon dieu."
The anger slid off of Seychelles' face and her shoulders sagged slightly. So he's worried about me?
France continued to pout. "I hate fighting wars, ma chèri – even though I'm so good – you know that. I especially hate fighting when I actually like whoever or whatever it is that I'm fighting for. Because then it matters."
Seychelles twitched at the use of her old pet name. But that's all France had ever called her in the past, so she let it slide. She also liked the fact that he used it on her alone – oh, wait, um, no she didn't…actually. Maybe he used it on others. Hehe. Silly thoughts.
"Are you, uh, fighting over me now? Is that why you're worried," she asked quietly.
It took France a while to resurface from whichever memories had been occupying his vision and answer her. But it wasn't very satisfying.
"Ah~ non. Not yet, I mean – I really don't know, but it's not you."
Or very nice.
Seychelles crossed her arms defiantly and – no – she wasn't copying France's pathetic pout, she was just frowning. Slightly.
"England is declaring war over in North America now and…who knows how long he'll be swinging his big, ugly fists at me? At my colony?" France paused awkwardly and tried to find the words to continue. "I just…I might not be around when you think you need me, that's all."
By now, Seychelles was just about fuming. She slowly rose to her feet and backed away from France.
"And what's that supposed to mean? 'When I think I need you?' I'm not even a colony yet; I'm supposed to have a father figure! Or a, a, a something-figure. And here you are gallivanting off to who knows where, fighting wars, and sailing all over the world while I'm stuck here and for all I know, you could be eating that disgusting cheese or drinking that wine the whole time. I don't know anything France! I need guidance! I need someone who knows, who understands, who can see, who – who can be my friend. I need a friend…"
But was what they had really friendship? No, shut up! What else was there, anyways?
She turned sharply so her back was facing France, removing all of him from her sight because he was confusing her when he was supposed to be giving her answers – and she just didn't understand. She wasn't even sure why she was so angry. Maybe ten years apart was a little too much time…
She heard him get up and move towards her and almost darted away when he placed a hand on her shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, Seychelles resisting the ridiculous urge to cry as France spoke.
"I'm a Nation, Séchelles. I and many, many others are charged with burdens that no human has known, or will know. I'm usually a bit more, ah, flippant with my duties, but…I can't ignore them. And I know you've been patient. But keep waiting and your chance will come to shine just like me. But right now, my charge lies with the protection of Canada. And I care for him too much to let anything else get in my way."
On any other day, Seychelles would have been moved by such a speech, especially from the often crude France. But now she was consumed by, by – was it jealousy? – by a burning envy that just wouldn't go away. It writhed inside of her and made its way quickly to her brain, cutting off all logical thought. Which was probably why her next words were so harsh.
She shrugged France's hand off of her shoulder and made her way towards the tunnel opening.
"Fine, go back to precious Canada. Personally, I hope England gets him."
She muttered these words with as much contempt as she could muster, a quiet hate seething in her gut and she squeezed her way into the tunnel – past the cavern and into the second enclosure. By the time she had reached the entrance, she was running, away, away, away like the coward she was and wiping furiously at her streaming eyes – completely and totally ashamed of herself.
Why had she said that? Those words were probably the last things France needed to hear. That was so unlike her…what was happening?
She shook her head and continued on, forcing her way through the undergrowth.
She supposed she was being a huge idiot. But how did France expect her to understand him and his – his 'burdens' when she wasn't even a country, not even a colony yet? Why did he have to come into her life and introduce all these wonderful, scary, tempting, crazy, awesome things years before she would even be claimed? And why did she care so damned much?
Seychelles was so intent on possibly unlocking the door to this new universe that she almost ran straight into a group of French explorers roaming about.
She squeaked and dived into a large fern, the Frenchmen probably mistaking her for a giant tortoise or something.
She waited for them to pass, counting down slowly from ten so she wouldn't accidentally take out her frustration on any of the unsuspecting sailors. But instead of marching (dragging their feet) onward, they chose to take a break and idly plopped themselves down on a patch of ground in front of her.
She cursed mentally. Lazy Frenchmen! No matter how quietly she moved, she would most definitely disturb the fern in which she was squatting in a way that certainly didn't suggest a giant tortoise. She had no choice but to lay low for however long it took for these bozos to get back to work.
She edged herself slowly down to her knees to eavesdrop, thankful of her lifelong knowledge of plants and their breaking points.
She sat. Miffed. And very upset over her recent shouting match with France. Listening to French sailors talk about how pretty their girlfriends were. Typical.
"France is very lucky to have discovered these islands," one of the sailors spoke up after a slight pause.
Seychelles' head snapped up and it took her a couple of seconds to realize that they were talking about France itself, not him. But it seemed like the same thing…almost.
"Oui, mon ami. I just hope the shit happening in North America doesn't make its way over here. Seychelles is just so great; it would be a shame to lose it," a finely mustached man spoke in a deep voice.
"And have you seen those coconuts? They're giant asses, I swear!" The entire group chortled merrily and proceeded to talk about her 'giant ass coconuts.' So what if they were shaped…well, awkwardly? They were the biggest France had ever seen, and that had to count for something.
Wait… The biggest he had… and he had laughed… Stupid France.
Seychelles put her head in her hands and couldn't help but allow a small smile of sheer disbelief flit across her face. When she looked up, she saw the group getting slowly to their feet – much stretching and joking and general laziness included. As the last chuckle, shout and/or holler of: "Well, something just grabbed my butt" floated away, the young lady checked for any stragglers and – seeing none – she leapt to her feet and all but flew down one of her many makeshift pathways back to the cave.
The man with the mustache had been talking about her and her connection with France and if the country wanted her then surely – surely – the being wanted her too, Canada just came first because he was already a colony - and why was she so stupid?
She would apologize, Seychelles decided – with all of her heart. She didn't really understand what it was like to have multiple relationships because the only person she was really close to was France. Really…she just needed some time to think these things through. Maybe storming off into the jungle after a stupid, unnecessary fight wasn't the best method, though.
She reached the mouth of the cave and it swallowed her whole, as if inviting her to mess it all up again and ruin any chance of friendship she had left. But she braved the mouth of the cave, the unknown fears of failure because it was France. Simply France. She reached the cavern and nearly bumped into a ridge in the rock, half twirling in the air to avoid it. She squeezed into the second snakelike tunnel – almost tearing her blue dress – one ribbon untied and trailing desperately from her hair –
"France!"
She burst through the second entrance-way to meet the smell of the sea. She looked left and right, forming her apology in her mind.
But the Nation wasn't there anymore.
AN - Hey, gaiz t'is chapter nine. Hope you liked!
Footnotes - The cave is made up, but there are many cliffs in Seychelles, as I had mentioned previously. T'would be really cool if there were caves lie that, though. But there are only underwater caves that are really significant in size.
Also - random thought. There aren't many major rivers in Seychelles, so if anyone was wondering, the river/waterfall she was sitting by would have been relatively small.
Have I mentioned this? Um... Well, in any case - the reason France spells/thinks her name differently is because she's named after a person and Seychelles hasn't been anglicized yet. But it will be, so that's how she knows it. It still has the same pronunciation.
So... The Austrian Succession. Oh boy, I'll try and summarize it in as little as possible. It basically all started when Maria-Theresa, Archduchess of Austria, was unable to succeed to the Hapsburg (royal house in Austria) throne because she was a woman, and laws back then disallowed women to have any real power whatsoever. So Prussia, a new and quite intelligent empire, decided to take advantage of this and take over Silesia - Austrian territory. France eventually joined them along with Bavaria forces; England joined Prussia just to fight France, yadda yadda. France was doing alright at first, but then they kind of failed a lot, and argued with the Bavarians, and made no moves, and asked around for help while Prussia was a boss and ate things. Figuratively, of course. But then the French went and fought the Belgian and the Dutch and won battles 'n stuff. Then Prussia succeeded in winning Silesia and France went to war with Britain in North America. Coolbeanz. That's what France has been up to.
So this is the time between the Austrian Succession and the Seven Years War over Canada. 1756-ish.
And, haha! The Coco de Mer is a palm tree found only on Seychelles and resembles a "woman's disembodied buttocks." Ew, wikipedia, ew. But yeah. No wonder France likes the giant "bum seed." XD
Seychelles is also known for its Giant Tortoises - explorers would literally take them from the islands as supplies for voyages.
And that's all I can think of.
Translations - Arêtes-la = stop that.
C'est fantastique vraiment ... = That's truly fantastic...
Yeah, pretty much! Thanks for the support!