Quando Parli [2 a / ?]
anonymous
March 7 2010, 07:33:45 UTC
Romano is having his intern debate, I'm a sucker for his inferiority and whatnot complexes. He's so troubled in this "chapter", I almost feel bad... D': Spain's is rather difficult to write, surprisingly... He's acting kinda off, huh ? And Veneziano is being adorable :D Overprotective little brother moe appears here <3 Anon forgot to add that the title means "When you speak", I know, my naming-skills are amazing 8D
"Fucking bastard !" Romano screamed, kicking his beloved Vespa. How was it possible the fuel went out ? And how was it possible that he had landed in a part of his country he didn't know ?! So much for driving far away to get some rest. Everything was obviously Spain's fault. He was the one who had been at his house, he was the one talking with Veneziano, he was the one talking in Italian. He still couldn't really believe it. Since when could he... ? Was he able to talk to him in Italian back then when he had to learn Spanish ? Spain had forced his culture upon him but had never told him that he actually was interested in his as well ? It was so humiliating ! That was probably what the bastard had aimed for since the very beginning. Humiliating him, because he was able to learn a second language and Romano had never wanted to (not that he didn't know Spanish... But it had more turned into a dialect than staying the actual language). That was it. And the worst in all this was that Veneziano knew. He hadn't told him (him, Romano) who he knew for over four centuries (he had lost count years ago) and had raised and protected and loved and seen grow up, but he had told his little brother. Adorable Veneziano. He felt a sting in his heart of what he wished was disappointment for being lost, but knew was pain and sorrow. Didn't Spain trust him enough ? After all, he had never been a good confidant. A lot less than his brother. Little brother. Again, Romano kicked his Vespa, hoping it would turn back on by miracle, which unsurprisingly did not happen. He had been driving for at least an hour, no way he was going to go back by foot... ! Romano checked his options : the first one was to walk home. Not that he didn't like to walk, but fifty kilometers or something ? No thank you, he really didn't need that. Second option was to call someone to pick him up, and when he checked his mobile phone, he saw the screen flashing a happy "13 missed calls" at him (seven were from his brother, six form Spain), and he had to reconsider this one because there was nobody he could (or wanted) to actually call. Third option was to find a gas station in this middle of nowhere (was it even possible ?), and drive off somewhere else with his scooter. Fourth was to wait for a miracle. He took the third option, and started wandering about, pulling his vehicle along. He could now only hope for no more complications.
Quando Parli [2 b / ?]
anonymous
March 7 2010, 07:37:47 UTC
~ ~
He hadn't planned this. Not at all. He had just exchanged a few words with the younger Italian in their native tongue, how was he supposed to know it would upset Romano so much ? Was his Italian so horrible ? He knew he had an accent, he had never really practiced it with a teacher or anything after all, but it surely wasn't that bad, right ? Maybe was it the intonation on the "Dov'è" ? Really, he had just asked where his little Lovi was, and said something about Italy's cuteness and adorableness, and then Romano had suddenly appeared, screamed something close to the entirety of all bad words in the Italian language, thrown a plate at him and hurt himself ("Lovi ! Are you oka-") and had stormed off to lock himself in his room. He had tried so hard to get him out of it, but the younger nation was terribly stubborn, probably even more than him. The only time he had opened the door, it was to insult him again. This was getting so repetitive, and so not cute ! In the end, Romano had somehow escaped and driven away. Spain wasn't fast enough to stop him even when the latter's little brother had called him with a "VE ! BIG BROTHER SPAIN, WHAT DID YOU DO TO FRATELLO ?!" scream, menacingly pointing a big wooden spoon he probably used for pasta at him as soon as he had run down the stairs, and seriously, Spain had no idea how a simple "Come stai ?" and "Dov'è tuo fratello ?" got him to be insulted by a very angry Italy and threatened by a very hysteric one. He thought he would try to find Romano, but the look Italy gave him (the "move from this spot and I won't hesitate to use this spoon to eviscerate you"-look) quickly made him understand that indeed, he might have to give in for once and let the young man look for his sibling. He had been rather good with bow and arrows for a time after all, and who knew what Italians could do with a spoon, they used them so often during their cooking... … But still, was his Italian this horrible ? A very loud crash-like sound told him that Veneziano had just driven away, and that he was, obviously, just as hysteric as before. Sometimes he could just feel the joys of being an only child... ! He decided that the brothers weren't going to come home soon, and took the initiative to make something for dinner (what? Six in the evening already ?). Tomatoes ? Check ! The most important ingredient was there ! … Okay, maybe not the most important ingredient. He still had to somehow get a chicken, rabbit, rice and beans. And the spices. "Well... Than let's get started !" he said joyfully to himself, and looked for the ingredients for his paella.
Quando Parli [2 c / ?]
anonymous
March 7 2010, 07:44:01 UTC
~ ~
So Spain actually knew Italian ? Well, that was new. To him, at least. His brother probably knew. He always knew everything about Spain (and would deny it). But he had just ran away like that, and had forgotten two tomatoes, his keys and his jacket. No, no, no, no, NO. His brother couldn't be gone like this ! What if something happened ? He was upset ! When Romano was upset, he would always take his Vespa and drive off somewhere. And he sometimes would run into the mafia ! Italy shook his head, focusing on the road (and daring any pedestrian to come in a one-meter radius of his car while he stormed through Rome) and mentally running through places his brother would go to. Somewhere to eat ? No, he wasn't the kind to eat when pissed. Visiting monuments ?... Absurd, he knew Rome by heart, there was nothing to visit ! Someone else's place ? Romano didn't visit anyone beside himself and occasionally Spain. So he had driven around aimlessly ? You had to be kidding him ! "Fratello..." he murmured softly, more to himself than anything else, creating a rather interesting contrast with his dangerous driving style. "Don't let anything happen to you..." A loud scream told him that he had just exceeded a speed limit and bumped into a car from behind... again. He drove around a corner, ignoring the accident he had just caused, not even reading the names of the streets he passed. He didn't need to, just concentrate where his brother could have gone, and hoping he wouldn't pop up at their house while he wasn't there. On the other hand, there was still Spain, even if Romano might not want to see him then. "Ve..."
Translations : Fratello is obviously brother xD Come stai ? : How are you ? Dov'è tuo fratello ? : Where is your brother ?
The recipe for the paella was googled. It said something along the lines of "traditionnal/original recipe", I figured it was what Spain was most likely to use :3
Last note : Hungary kicks asses with a frying pan. China kicks major asses with a wok. It's only fair that Veneziano is allowed to kick asses with a spoon ! A wooden spoon, of course.
Anon forgot to add that the title means "When you speak", I know, my naming-skills are amazing 8D
"Fucking bastard !" Romano screamed, kicking his beloved Vespa. How was it possible the fuel went out ? And how was it possible that he had landed in a part of his country he didn't know ?! So much for driving far away to get some rest.
Everything was obviously Spain's fault.
He was the one who had been at his house, he was the one talking with Veneziano, he was the one talking in Italian.
He still couldn't really believe it. Since when could he... ? Was he able to talk to him in Italian back then when he had to learn Spanish ? Spain had forced his culture upon him but had never told him that he actually was interested in his as well ? It was so humiliating ! That was probably what the bastard had aimed for since the very beginning. Humiliating him, because he was able to learn a second language and Romano had never wanted to (not that he didn't know Spanish... But it had more turned into a dialect than staying the actual language). That was it. And the worst in all this was that Veneziano knew. He hadn't told him (him, Romano) who he knew for over four centuries (he had lost count years ago) and had raised and protected and loved and seen grow up, but he had told his little brother. Adorable Veneziano. He felt a sting in his heart of what he wished was disappointment for being lost, but knew was pain and sorrow.
Didn't Spain trust him enough ?
After all, he had never been a good confidant. A lot less than his brother. Little brother.
Again, Romano kicked his Vespa, hoping it would turn back on by miracle, which unsurprisingly did not happen. He had been driving for at least an hour, no way he was going to go back by foot... !
Romano checked his options : the first one was to walk home. Not that he didn't like to walk, but fifty kilometers or something ? No thank you, he really didn't need that. Second option was to call someone to pick him up, and when he checked his mobile phone, he saw the screen flashing a happy "13 missed calls" at him (seven were from his brother, six form Spain), and he had to reconsider this one because there was nobody he could (or wanted) to actually call. Third option was to find a gas station in this middle of nowhere (was it even possible ?), and drive off somewhere else with his scooter. Fourth was to wait for a miracle.
He took the third option, and started wandering about, pulling his vehicle along. He could now only hope for no more complications.
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He hadn't planned this. Not at all. He had just exchanged a few words with the younger Italian in their native tongue, how was he supposed to know it would upset Romano so much ? Was his Italian so horrible ? He knew he had an accent, he had never really practiced it with a teacher or anything after all, but it surely wasn't that bad, right ? Maybe was it the intonation on the "Dov'è" ? Really, he had just asked where his little Lovi was, and said something about Italy's cuteness and adorableness, and then Romano had suddenly appeared, screamed something close to the entirety of all bad words in the Italian language, thrown a plate at him and hurt himself ("Lovi ! Are you oka-") and had stormed off to lock himself in his room. He had tried so hard to get him out of it, but the younger nation was terribly stubborn, probably even more than him. The only time he had opened the door, it was to insult him again. This was getting so repetitive, and so not cute ! In the end, Romano had somehow escaped and driven away. Spain wasn't fast enough to stop him even when the latter's little brother had called him with a "VE ! BIG BROTHER SPAIN, WHAT DID YOU DO TO FRATELLO ?!" scream, menacingly pointing a big wooden spoon he probably used for pasta at him as soon as he had run down the stairs, and seriously, Spain had no idea how a simple "Come stai ?" and "Dov'è tuo fratello ?" got him to be insulted by a very angry Italy and threatened by a very hysteric one.
He thought he would try to find Romano, but the look Italy gave him (the "move from this spot and I won't hesitate to use this spoon to eviscerate you"-look) quickly made him understand that indeed, he might have to give in for once and let the young man look for his sibling. He had been rather good with bow and arrows for a time after all, and who knew what Italians could do with a spoon, they used them so often during their cooking...
…
But still, was his Italian this horrible ?
A very loud crash-like sound told him that Veneziano had just driven away, and that he was, obviously, just as hysteric as before. Sometimes he could just feel the joys of being an only child... ! He decided that the brothers weren't going to come home soon, and took the initiative to make something for dinner (what? Six in the evening already ?). Tomatoes ? Check ! The most important ingredient was there !
… Okay, maybe not the most important ingredient. He still had to somehow get a chicken, rabbit, rice and beans. And the spices.
"Well... Than let's get started !" he said joyfully to himself, and looked for the ingredients for his paella.
Reply
So Spain actually knew Italian ? Well, that was new. To him, at least. His brother probably knew. He always knew everything about Spain (and would deny it). But he had just ran away like that, and had forgotten two tomatoes, his keys and his jacket.
No, no, no, no, NO.
His brother couldn't be gone like this ! What if something happened ? He was upset ! When Romano was upset, he would always take his Vespa and drive off somewhere. And he sometimes would run into the mafia ! Italy shook his head, focusing on the road (and daring any pedestrian to come in a one-meter radius of his car while he stormed through Rome) and mentally running through places his brother would go to. Somewhere to eat ? No, he wasn't the kind to eat when pissed. Visiting monuments ?... Absurd, he knew Rome by heart, there was nothing to visit ! Someone else's place ? Romano didn't visit anyone beside himself and occasionally Spain. So he had driven around aimlessly ? You had to be kidding him !
"Fratello..." he murmured softly, more to himself than anything else, creating a rather interesting contrast with his dangerous driving style. "Don't let anything happen to you..."
A loud scream told him that he had just exceeded a speed limit and bumped into a car from behind... again.
He drove around a corner, ignoring the accident he had just caused, not even reading the names of the streets he passed. He didn't need to, just concentrate where his brother could have gone, and hoping he wouldn't pop up at their house while he wasn't there. On the other hand, there was still Spain, even if Romano might not want to see him then.
"Ve..."
Translations :
Fratello is obviously brother xD
Come stai ? : How are you ?
Dov'è tuo fratello ? : Where is your brother ?
The recipe for the paella was googled. It said something along the lines of "traditionnal/original recipe", I figured it was what Spain was most likely to use :3
Last note : Hungary kicks asses with a frying pan. China kicks major asses with a wok. It's only fair that Veneziano is allowed to kick asses with a spoon ! A wooden spoon, of course.
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