Who: All the nations. All of them. What: They need to have a talk. And by talk I mean meeting and by meeting I mean chaos. When: Morning of Thursday 29th Where: Library; some meeting room. Rating: PG-13 just to be safe.
[Tag at your leisure, this is meant to be more of a fun thing!]
[Because you said 'hello' so graciously, yes... Fine. You get him to put the book on his lap, and maybe a cursory look over his shoulder, but not much in regards of pep. You understand, right?]
Hello.
[tell me you plan on doing more than nagging at me?]
[Scowling straight down at France, completely lacking in sympathy.]
You're a wordy one today. What's tied your tongue, Frog? You usually have something to say at any meeting no matter how pointless the meeting might be.
[Far more if you push me to it. I'm doing you a favor, being civil.]
[He has many things he wants to say and do, particularly in the direction of bruising Arthur's face beyond recognition and it's damned tempting to act on it, but for now, he resists. Fran is doing you a favor, Arthur. Don't forget it.]
You would think that you would be rejoicing at my silence. Apparently, mon cher, I simply can do no right in your eyes.
[Does he sound frank? Maybe. Icy? Sure.]
What brilliant ideas are you to bestow upon us then?
[The book is tossed on the table with a solid sound, the Frenchma pushing his chair back a bit to look at his surly companion better before he stood. Ah, eye to eye. It's lovely being the same height, isn't it darling?]
You could pretend, for once, to want me here. I apologize for coming here in hopes of doing something useful. I should have known that if it involved that shaggy, over-inflated facade of yours it would be moot!
[He didn't WANT this, England. He wants to be home. He could deal with your bitter whining and petty arguments better if he was, but as it is no. He can't. He's not sorry for stepping around you either to get to the exit-]
[England's arm shoots out to stop the Frenchman. Outwardly he's calm; inside, seething.]
Rubbish, all of that. Absolute tripe. [Yes, it is lovely, except when I have to clean up after every one of your bloody mistakes.]
Who was it that approached you to say hello? Who was it trying at civility, at anything resembling rationality? It was me. I approached you, and you can't stand that. You can't stand knowing I gave a damn enough to bother with anything of worth, so don't pretend you've any high ground against me on this.
Go ahead and leave--or stay--I'll not stop you whatever you do, you useless, over-dramatic twat.
[Cleaning up after speaking the truth? It was to America; perhaps being frank was a mistake. He is so sorry that he has given you the opportunity to speak honestly with your boy, England. Maybe if you would do more than start off a conversation with your supposedly cutesy bantering, these two could get along for longer than two seconds, but no. Is this your civility?
God, don't make France laugh. You didn't give a damn to offer anything of worth; you just said you had nothing for the likes of someone as low as France. Over-dramatic? You're an idiot-- a complete moron with your head so far up your ass that you cannot even start to consider what this stay is like for anyone but you.]
Shall I bend over and kiss your ass for being next in line for Pope?
[Aren't you so kind?]
You started off with a jibe and disregarded an issue as worthless and you claim to give a damn? Arthur, you wouldn't piss on me if I was rolling around on the ground burning. [sneering] Usually it is part of your charm but I find myself growing tired of the act.
[That's how he is, that's how he's always been. "Humanity" doesn't change that. Asgard doesn't change that. He doesn't care what France said to America--whatever America lands himself in is his own fault. His civility is greeting an old rival with a statement of honesty; by being interested in his existence.
England pulled back because France decided to push him away. Maybe the Frenchman could stand to learn cause and effect after all these years, or were the last three centuries enough to get through to him?]
You're completely mad. I didn't disregard it as worthless--it's over, it's finished, you're the one holding the damn grudge like a child!
[Funny, when a ray of sunlight promising to lead out of a fog only turns out to be a flaming pile of excrement.
England steps back. He's grown weary of this, and he wants to find America as soon as he can. You know what it means when extra walls go up and his voice settles into a cold solidarity.]
'An act' he says. I see. I came here to conduct routine communications. As for having any desire to bother being cordial with you--[England tilts his mouth and narrows his eyes, his voice flat.]--you'll believe what you like. So appropriate for you, France, to forget alliances and events that have strengthened them; especially when it's so very convenient for you to do so.
[As much pleasure as he derives from making shots at his rival, certain comments have hit home with him. Under these circumstances he feels isolated enough; to hear that any attempt at assistance means nothing or to be accused of that when they've been left blind and deaf and dumb...
He hates you so much that it's collapsed in on itself and he's not keen on feeling much of anything.
... No, wait-- he's keen on feeling more numb than usual.]
Can't imagine why it would be convenient to forget our finest hour. What it meant.
...
Wouldn't piss on you 'cause you can put fires out on your own. I'd be looking for the bastard that ignited it.
[There was a sick sense of comfort in quarreling with the other man that he'd come to expect over those last couple of centuries. It was part of who they were, yes, but God. He's tired, England. He is a tired, very old man and just for two seconds would like to wipe the slate clean-- or tidy the mess enough to exist in peace. True quiet.
He isn't happy, not close to it and if you actually paid attention to him rather than his words you'd know it, but then again, France doesn't expect you to give any real concern. You're much too intent on proving that your shit doesn't stink, that you are in the right-emotions be damned.
As for that--]
Forgetting alliances, mm? Is that what you believe this is? [have an honestly angry hurt look; chuckling dryly] You will think what you think then.
[Oh, they'll bicker for bickering sake but like he'll let anyone bother the man himself. Doesn't mean he's any closer to being okay with how the two of them are dealing. Muttering something about searching out dragons to piss off. His next words come out sounding measured and careful, though.]
I wash my hands of this disaster-- I am done. Tired. I am not holding a grudge. [He gives the conference room a look, mouth drawing tight. It felt entirely claustrophobic.] Perhaps I will see you around.
[And perhaps there won't be a fight immediately.. but like hell is he going to bite his tongue because Arthur can't handle having a few walls of his own to deal with.]
But he doesn't want to think about what it is, what France isn't seeing. He doesn't want to think about what France is feeling either. It'd unravel everything, England included. He doesn't have that luxury.
And he's bitter.
Not looking at France, lowering his voice; can't even be assed to pretend to sound angry. He's just quiet and tired too. Selfish bastard, you're not the only one.]
Fuck off then.
[But he's not going to be the one to take the step to speaking again. He's leaving that up to you-- for now, he's off to find America.]
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asgardmeridiem2012-03-29 08:21 pm
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Hello.
[tell me you plan on doing more than nagging at me?]
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You're a wordy one today. What's tied your tongue, Frog? You usually have something to say at any meeting no matter how pointless the meeting might be.
[Far more if you push me to it. I'm doing you a favor, being civil.]
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You would think that you would be rejoicing at my silence. Apparently, mon cher, I simply can do no right in your eyes.
[Does he sound frank? Maybe. Icy? Sure.]
What brilliant ideas are you to bestow upon us then?
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See, now you're catching on! [His amused tone and expression are both hideously brittle. After a tense pause, he shoves his hands in his pockets.]
--But since you're asking... Nothing so worthless that I'd think of sharing it with you.
[Should have known trying to talk to you'd be a waste. Have it your way, like always.]
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You could pretend, for once, to want me here. I apologize for coming here in hopes of doing something useful. I should have known that if it involved that shaggy, over-inflated facade of yours it would be moot!
[He didn't WANT this, England. He wants to be home. He could deal with your bitter whining and petty arguments better if he was, but as it is no. He can't. He's not sorry for stepping around you either to get to the exit-]
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Rubbish, all of that. Absolute tripe. [Yes, it is lovely, except when I have to clean up after every one of your bloody mistakes.]
Who was it that approached you to say hello? Who was it trying at civility, at anything resembling rationality? It was me. I approached you, and you can't stand that. You can't stand knowing I gave a damn enough to bother with anything of worth, so don't pretend you've any high ground against me on this.
Go ahead and leave--or stay--I'll not stop you whatever you do, you useless, over-dramatic twat.
/popcorn.gif :T
God, don't make France laugh. You didn't give a damn to offer anything of worth; you just said you had nothing for the likes of someone as low as France. Over-dramatic? You're an idiot-- a complete moron with your head so far up your ass that you cannot even start to consider what this stay is like for anyone but you.]
Shall I bend over and kiss your ass for being next in line for Pope?
[Aren't you so kind?]
You started off with a jibe and disregarded an issue as worthless and you claim to give a damn? Arthur, you wouldn't piss on me if I was rolling around on the ground burning. [sneering] Usually it is part of your charm but I find myself growing tired of the act.
:|
England pulled back because France decided to push him away. Maybe the Frenchman could stand to learn cause and effect after all these years, or were the last three centuries enough to get through to him?]
You're completely mad. I didn't disregard it as worthless--it's over, it's finished, you're the one holding the damn grudge like a child!
[Funny, when a ray of sunlight promising to lead out of a fog only turns out to be a flaming pile of excrement.
England steps back. He's grown weary of this, and he wants to find America as soon as he can. You know what it means when extra walls go up and his voice settles into a cold solidarity.]
'An act' he says. I see. I came here to conduct routine communications. As for having any desire to bother being cordial with you--[England tilts his mouth and narrows his eyes, his voice flat.]--you'll believe what you like. So appropriate for you, France, to forget alliances and events that have strengthened them; especially when it's so very convenient for you to do so.
[As much pleasure as he derives from making shots at his rival, certain comments have hit home with him. Under these circumstances he feels isolated enough; to hear that any attempt at assistance means nothing or to be accused of that when they've been left blind and deaf and dumb...
He hates you so much that it's collapsed in on itself and he's not keen on feeling much of anything.
... No, wait-- he's keen on feeling more numb than usual.]
Can't imagine why it would be convenient to forget our finest hour. What it meant.
...
Wouldn't piss on you 'cause you can put fires out on your own. I'd be looking for the bastard that ignited it.
[So you can just fuck off you stupid cunt.]
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He isn't happy, not close to it and if you actually paid attention to him rather than his words you'd know it, but then again, France doesn't expect you to give any real concern. You're much too intent on proving that your shit doesn't stink, that you are in the right-emotions be damned.
As for that--]
Forgetting alliances, mm? Is that what you believe this is? [have an honestly angry
hurtlook; chuckling dryly] You will think what you think then.[Oh, they'll bicker for bickering sake but like he'll let anyone bother the man himself. Doesn't mean he's any closer to being okay with how the two of them are dealing. Muttering something about searching out dragons to piss off. His next words come out sounding measured and careful, though.]
I wash my hands of this disaster-- I am done. Tired. I am not holding a grudge. [He gives the conference room a look, mouth drawing tight. It felt entirely claustrophobic.] Perhaps I will see you around.
[And perhaps there won't be a fight immediately.. but like hell is he going to bite his tongue because Arthur can't handle having a few walls of his own to deal with.]
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But he doesn't want to think about what it is, what France isn't seeing. He doesn't want to think about what France is feeling either. It'd unravel everything, England included. He doesn't have that luxury.
And he's bitter.
Not looking at France, lowering his voice; can't even be assed to pretend to sound angry. He's just quiet and tired too. Selfish bastard, you're not the only one.]
Fuck off then.
[But he's not going to be the one to take the step to speaking again. He's leaving that up to you-- for now, he's off to find America.]