Dark For All Of Me [2/?]
anonymous
April 26 2010, 00:16:09 UTC
Voices reached his ears before he even allowed his surroundings to sink in. They were heated and surprisingly recognisable. The more exasperated one was Spain. Austria looked around briefly, following the source of the voices until he had walked partway down a passage towards a room with a slightly ajar door. Servants who had been slowly cleaning around it, most likely to eavesdrop, caught sight of him with a start and hurried away. Austria frowned, vaguely aware that he knew some of those faces, and approached the door to knock.
The pair inside the room fell silent immediately. Austria pushed the door open.
“Good e’en.”
“Austria!”
Two nearly identical men, one clad in blood red and the other in a deep blue, stood apart from each other, as though they had just been split up from a fistfight though their clothes were not quite rumpled. One, the one who had vocalised his name, he recognised immediately. The other one took a minute before he finally realised who it was.
“What are you doing here?” Spain gently derailed his train of thought, already by his side, expression a mixture of immense surprise, delight and exhaustion.
“You complain that I never visit you, so I thought I’d remedy that,” Austria’s reply was eloquent, almost practiced. “Among other things.”
He glanced back, gesturing for Italy to enter.
Spain’s expression lit up like a lighthouse on a stormy night.
“H-Hello, Brother Spain.”
“Italy!” Spain was already tossing the little nation in the air, squeezing him tightly and cuddling him. “I haven’t seen you forever! You’re my little ray of sunshine! Are you hungry? The tomatoes will be ripening soon so we can make you pasta! Do you want to look around my castle? Do you want to play with Romano?”
“In due time,” Austria said blandly, letting out a huff. “I’d prefer it if we could settle in before reacquainting properly. The seas weren’t exactly kind.”
“You sailed?” Spain asked in awe. “You hate sailing.”
“I hate France more.”
“Ugh, don’t say his name,” Spain grimaced and put Italy down. “He broke another promise. Again.”
“So I heard,” Austria raised his eyebrows. “I also heard that he’s been trying to sabotage your treaties with the Dutch.”
“Your what?”
The outburst had been one of livid fury, and both Austria and Spain were taken aback.
“Please, Portugal, we have a guest…”
Portugal glared at Spain before swinging a hard, unfriendly gaze to Austria. His lips were set in a thin line, expression dark with an almost disquiet violence. He carefully reined in his anger and nodded stiffly, expression still disagreeable. It was a surprise to see him so furious, with an anger that wasn’t fraternal. Austria had always assumed that the extent of any possible rage he could have held towards Spain ended at incredible irritation, considering how he admired Spain. He wasn’t sure he was happy with the revelation that his assumption was wrong.
Moreover, Portugal had grown since they last met. He was as tall as Spain, taller than even Austria, body filled out with firm muscle and skin a dark shade of copper. Austria wondered if he was in his rebellious stage (he and Spain had been at the very cusp of it during the days that led up to their marriage). Sudden growth spurts could do that, sometimes, particularly when a brother figure was involved.
“Portugal,” Austria said with a faint smile. No matter how antagonistic Portugal may be, Austria’s memories and relationship with him was still fond. He hoped that Portugal would feel at better ease with him at the very least. “You’ve grown very handsome.”
It did seem to do the trick. His eyes lost its anger and his lips twitched into what could have been a smile. It was a relief to see that he still kept his manners. Portugal eyed the small Italian clutching to tail of Austria’s coat out of fear.
“… You look like a mother hen, Lord Austria.”
“Well I’m glad you haven’t lost your cheek even after a century or so,” Austria arched a brow, expression dry. “It’s a wonder you haven’t made more enemies.”
Portugal rolled his eyes. “I make enemies even without opening my mouth.”
The pair inside the room fell silent immediately. Austria pushed the door open.
“Good e’en.”
“Austria!”
Two nearly identical men, one clad in blood red and the other in a deep blue, stood apart from each other, as though they had just been split up from a fistfight though their clothes were not quite rumpled. One, the one who had vocalised his name, he recognised immediately. The other one took a minute before he finally realised who it was.
“What are you doing here?” Spain gently derailed his train of thought, already by his side, expression a mixture of immense surprise, delight and exhaustion.
“You complain that I never visit you, so I thought I’d remedy that,” Austria’s reply was eloquent, almost practiced. “Among other things.”
He glanced back, gesturing for Italy to enter.
Spain’s expression lit up like a lighthouse on a stormy night.
“H-Hello, Brother Spain.”
“Italy!” Spain was already tossing the little nation in the air, squeezing him tightly and cuddling him. “I haven’t seen you forever! You’re my little ray of sunshine! Are you hungry? The tomatoes will be ripening soon so we can make you pasta! Do you want to look around my castle? Do you want to play with Romano?”
“In due time,” Austria said blandly, letting out a huff. “I’d prefer it if we could settle in before reacquainting properly. The seas weren’t exactly kind.”
“You sailed?” Spain asked in awe. “You hate sailing.”
“I hate France more.”
“Ugh, don’t say his name,” Spain grimaced and put Italy down. “He broke another promise. Again.”
“So I heard,” Austria raised his eyebrows. “I also heard that he’s been trying to sabotage your treaties with the Dutch.”
“Your what?”
The outburst had been one of livid fury, and both Austria and Spain were taken aback.
“Please, Portugal, we have a guest…”
Portugal glared at Spain before swinging a hard, unfriendly gaze to Austria. His lips were set in a thin line, expression dark with an almost disquiet violence. He carefully reined in his anger and nodded stiffly, expression still disagreeable. It was a surprise to see him so furious, with an anger that wasn’t fraternal. Austria had always assumed that the extent of any possible rage he could have held towards Spain ended at incredible irritation, considering how he admired Spain. He wasn’t sure he was happy with the revelation that his assumption was wrong.
Moreover, Portugal had grown since they last met. He was as tall as Spain, taller than even Austria, body filled out with firm muscle and skin a dark shade of copper. Austria wondered if he was in his rebellious stage (he and Spain had been at the very cusp of it during the days that led up to their marriage). Sudden growth spurts could do that, sometimes, particularly when a brother figure was involved.
“Portugal,” Austria said with a faint smile. No matter how antagonistic Portugal may be, Austria’s memories and relationship with him was still fond. He hoped that Portugal would feel at better ease with him at the very least. “You’ve grown very handsome.”
It did seem to do the trick. His eyes lost its anger and his lips twitched into what could have been a smile. It was a relief to see that he still kept his manners. Portugal eyed the small Italian clutching to tail of Austria’s coat out of fear.
“… You look like a mother hen, Lord Austria.”
“Well I’m glad you haven’t lost your cheek even after a century or so,” Austria arched a brow, expression dry. “It’s a wonder you haven’t made more enemies.”
Portugal rolled his eyes. “I make enemies even without opening my mouth.”
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And cute little fluffy Italy, d'awwww.... The image of him hanging off Austria's coat made me chuckle.
Ah, the 1600 already? They grow up so fast... *sniffle*
*determined expression* I'll follow this until the very end, you can't escape, no matter how many parts you change!
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I'm excited that Italy's here, I hope Romano will show up soon too. *_*
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