Day 3: Party
When Norway talks, he refers to the countries with their Norwegian transitions. Denmark is Danmark, America is Amerika, and England is just England.
It was chaos.
Early in the evening, Prussia had challenged Denmark and England to a drinking contest. A few hours later, they were probably going to die of alcohol poisoning. Even Gilbird had plopped down on the table, occasionally stumbling around and weakly flapping his wings before plopping down again. Still, the sea of assorted alcoholic beverages was unending. France was doing his best to egg them on.
Germany was (unsuccessfully) trying to remove Prussia from the beer whilst simultaneously trying to control Italy's wine intake. For his part, Italy had thrown a wine glass at Romano and was drunkenly bawling about the theft of his art. Romano had joined him, bawling about the injustice of the potato bastard's existence.
Spain was fast asleep, underneath the Christmas tree.
No one could hear them, but Austria and Hungary were performing a piano and violin duet.
Finland, Sweden, Sealand had dressed up at as Santas, throwing stray candy canes in the air. Most of them were eaten by Hanatamago.
Somewhere, Israel was smacking nations with a lit menorah. Sometimes they caught on fire.
It was an unanimous agreement that the annual International Holiday party led to more harm than good, and really was not worth the money spent. In two weeks time, once the nations were mostly almost recovered, new feuds and rivalries would plague the already tumultuous world stage. Occasionally, a declaration of war would accidentally be signed. The party really only served to negate the efforts and diplomatic campaigns carried out in the year.
For America, this was his one night of peace. He didn't have to show himself off as the dominant world superpower, the horrible superpower with good intentions but embarrassingly bad solutions, the attention stealing, meddlesome power that the United States of America was. America chose to spend the annual Christmas party sitting back, for once able to pass on the spotlight.
This year he was joined by Norway, who seemed to be talking to himself. Occasionally Norway would glance over at Denmark, chuckling softly when patches of his clothing were mysteriously cut off and when his hair began to knot itself. America swore someone (or something) was poking Denmark's belly. Norway was doing something with his hands, an almost petting motion, an action England often did. America was pretty sure he saw a spark jump off Norway's finger.
"It's strange, you know. Quite unfair." Norway suddenly spoke up, voice devoid of emotion. He didn't look up from his hands.
America looked around for anyone else the Nordic could have been addressing. "What, me?"
Norway's hands paused, and he shot America a deadpan look. "One would think, after marrying England, you would have more respect for the fairies. They must like you because of England."
America could probably count the number of conversations he'd had with Norway on one hand, but if he was anything like England, it would be in his best interests to humour Norway. "Do fairies like Denmark?"
Norway smirked. "Danmark is stupid and is the mortal enemy of every one of my friends. How he manages to piss off creatures he can't even see is beyond comprehension."
"But aren't you dating him?"
Norway's violet eyes filled with a sort of dark affection. "My relationship with Danmark cannot be defined by mere words. It is a long and complex history we share. You're too young to understand how it is to be a nation. I would not have expected England to chose to settle for such a mundane, such a human relationship with you."
"But he loves me?" Norway was a difficult person to read, nevermind converse with, and America was painfully reminded of why he chose to leave Norway and Iceland to their own devices.
"Love is primitive. Feral. It is in your's, and England's, best interests to stop humanizing your existence, Amerika. Amerigo."
America looked downed, fingers fidgeting in his lap. "I'm not really sure what you mean. But I do know that I love England and I'm pretty sure England at least kind of likes me back. Special Relationship, you know? And I don't really get this whole humanizing things thing but I like being married to England and I love spending time with him and waking up to him beside me and fighting battles with him and going on long car trips and getting lost. I'm even okay with his food. If humanizing things is bad, I want to be human forever." He felt Norway's heavy gaze leave him.
"Mmm, be as it may, it is in our best interests for us to separate now, and separate our partners."
In a single, fluid motion, Norway stood, heading for a tangled mess of barely conscious drunks comprised of Denmark and England. America trailed behind second later, after wrapping his head around his conversation with Norway.
Across the room, Kumajiro bit Russia's pinky and ring fingers off. Again.
Amerigo Vespucci was an Italian explorer for whom the Americas are named for. By calling them Amerigo, Norway is emphasizing America's humanity by bringing up he is named for a human.