rukhgate | 01 ★

[One hundred and sixty six. One hundred and sixty seven. One hundred and sixty eight. The rhythmic tip-tap of shoes against the cobbled floor barely echoed among the noise of the courtyard of birds--sometimes students, too--overhead, and those calling to one another. Germany's rope slapped against the floor occasionally as she skipped for the past hour. Her uniform was abandoned not far, discarded after-hours for ease of practice.

Her back was starting to ache, however. She'd never felt the strain of her figure before arriving her. Now her back ached liberally with exerted effort. If anything was an incentive to get out of here and where she belonged, getting rid of back ache was a good one as any.]

One hundred and seventy. One hundred and seventy one. [She muttered to herself, resisting the urge to wipe her damp fringe off her forehead. Perhaps she could get two hours out of this before figuring out what to do about food for the evening.

The thought was just about distracting her from those who stared as she exercised.]

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I see. [That explains it, Germany's had time to recover. Well, it's good to see she's healthy, France will be annoyed by that.] Well, that's all right then.

We're in the middle of-- [Germany bit her lip just in time to stop herself from blurting out that little fact. Perhaps she could use it to her advantage later.

Not that it wise to bring up in this place to begin with.]

[England doesn't intend on giving away how far behind she is, not being keen on admitting a disadvantage. She knows it's probably inevitable but she has to try.] Nothing that's relevant here, dear. You'll just focus on your studies and stay out of trouble, agreed?

I'm capable of keeping myself out of trouble, but I do hope you'll do the same.

Who else of those I should know [never really friends] is here?

... Well, that depends how you define "know".

I might need them to cooperate in the future, never mind gain their friendship.

[She sighs. Beating around the bush was never her forte.]

Any familiar faces, I mean?

... Familiar, yes. [England just get to it]

[If the crossed arms and the tapping foot any indication, Germany is starting to lose her patience.]

Don't you start getting impertinent with me, young lady! [It's complicated okay!!] There are people here that resemble our associates back home, and claim to be them, but they're- ... Well, rather more male than when I last saw them.

There are "representations" other than ourselves? [The world personification never crosses Germany's mind. She just simply thinks of herself and others as are. A faint sense of jealousy passes through her, however.]

They sound like imposters.

It seems many of the people here are from other "worlds". It makes sense, considering this is obviously one itself. [She'd know if this was anywhere on Earth.] I'd have called them imposters myself but.. Well, you'll understand when you meet them yourself. They certainly feel like us and they're similar to who they're claiming to be.

... They also outnumber us. [Said lightly, just stating the fact. Germany is hardly an ally- not even close, even after the treaty- but still.]

[She takes all of this in quietly, her eyes trained elsewhere as not to give England the benefit of lording information over her. The older nation has a point, though. The devil you know...]

I can't imagine you as a man.

[She really can't. Germany's imagination only extends so far.]

Neither can I but if he exists, he isn't here. More's the pity, I could do with some intelligent conversation. So far I've met the Baltics and Norway, though I think there are a few others scattered about. No one to be concerned about, but curious all the same.

That explains the little man who called me Ukraine. [Fine, she's still smarting from that one.]

[... Covers her mouth to hide her giggle at that.] Yes, I suppose it does.

In any case, that is of little relevance to it. It seems we're all at the same disadvantage here, even if some of us are burdened with maleness.

Do you suppose their you looks like our Ukraine then? A very handsome young man. [STILL AMUSED sorry]

[LIES SHE IS NOT SORRY] I'm not wasting my time filling my head with idiocies!

There's no need to get upset, I did call him handsome. I imagine the male England is a perfect gentleman; reserved, kind and with impeccable manners.

Edited 2013-01-24 03:29 (UTC)

[Germany coughs into her hand, resisting the urge to add "short" to the list of these hypothetical qualities.]

[IT'S ONLY PROPER FOR A LADY TO BE PETITE AND DAINTY AND BEING SHORT NEVER STOPPED A MAN FROM THRASHING THOSE THAT DESERVE IT so shut up]

In any case, it does to be prepared for these things in advance. Wouldn't want you running about embarrassing yourself, dear.

Edited 2013-01-24 03:37 (UTC)

[Only one of these three qualities fit here...] I assure you I can take care of myself. You wouldn't be in a position to look after me. My embarrassment is irrelevant to our survival here.

I'm not speaking of survival, dear, but surely your sisters taught you something about appearances. Never give away confusion if you can help it. [...] I know I teased you, but I really am only trying to help.

Noted. [This is as close as she will get to thanking England for something, but the younger German is inexperienced, if not easily flustered. She picks up the school uniform, draping it over her shoulder.] You're a strange one.

So I've heard. Among our company, certainly. [All the other countries are crazed idiots and England is a perfect lady obviously.]

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