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United Kingdom's day was started with a horrid message.
It seems that England had invited him with all the others constituent countries to some sort of get-together. It was clear to all that may have been observing him that he was starting to regret even looking at his phone as the first thing to do after waking up from the comfy bed that he had previously slept in. He grimaced as he threw the blanket across and lazily brought his legs down to touch the cold floor of his home. The second regret of the day was the choice to not sleep without socks, as the sudden contact his bare feet had with the floor was enough to make his droopiness disappear from his face completely.
UK's face was carved into one of a scowl as he mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, presumably swearing his luck for the day. He sluggishly got up from the grey sheets of his bed and went directly to the bathroom located in his room, doing the usual bathroom-ly business as he normally does in the morning, taking quite the while due to the fact that the toilet seat indeed gives one a sudden brain power increase.
The uncombed-brown haired lad exited the—both the bath and bed—room not long after, taking a left turn from his room's entrance of the hallway to go to the kitchen, to see what kinds of food might be there. His grey baggy attire was messy from all the sleeping he had just done last night, and his steps were still pretty effortless even if his eyes were now fully cautious and awake.
A while later, he found himself in front of the cabinets scanning across all that is placed in there. He saw bread, oatmeal, cornflakes and... just that, really. He scratched himself on the head and moved towards the fridge-he just really wasn't in the mood for any of those three-and tried his best to find something that needs no cooking and is actually edible. Though, the few things he found were only a carton of chocolate milk that might be expired and a cold bottle of black coffee. He furrowed his brows in annoyance upon realising that he would be eating a bowl of milk and cereal to start the day, and grumbled some swears.
He took a plastic bowl for himself and poured the milk first, not caring for the possibility of it being expired, then grabbing the box of cornflakes and poured it afterwards. He stared at the filled bowl for a while, observing as the cornflakes slowly got soggy, seemingly in a daze until the voice of a woman pulled him out from the zone.
"Why are you eating that?" The familiar voice of the hazel-eyed woman questioned UK's choice for a breakfast, as she eyed him judgingly for not even having a spoon to eat with. "Did you pour the milk first again?" The shorter brunette asked once more, moving to the counter to get a spoon for UK.
"That's not your matter to dive in, England." He muttered as the mentioned woman's brow was raised, and she gave him a metal spoon to eat with. "No other food, and yes I poured the milk in first." He replied in an annoyed tone after seeing the other's expression.
"Really, now?" England spoke as she looked in the fridge once more, finding a carton or two of eggs in there. "Could've just cooked a toast with eggs lazy prick." She turned to the younger's stature who was starting to get a bite to those soggy cornflakes, and when her gaze went to the bowl, she continued, "You're supposed to pour the cornflakes first, then the milk."
Hearing that, the blue-eyed man took a full bite from the cornflake-filled spoon and—still with a full mouth—retorted, "This is my life, why do you bother with my choices." Gaining a pretty exaggerated reaction from the older Personification.
"Well," The English woman said, squinting at UK while internally despising how UK is speaking with a full mouth. "That's the wrong way, you pour the cornflakes first. Milk first doesn't fit right." She reasoned, grabbing a stool for herself, just realising he was eating while standing up. "Get a chair." She ordered, motioning her head to the chair on the other side of the room.
UK glanced at the now sitting relative of him and sneered, saying, "No." Rejecting what England has spoken of before. An uncomfortable silence fell upon the room after the former Representation of Great Britain had replied, until he himself asked to her, "Today looks like it'll be a pretty good day, why did you choose to hold a fancy dinner way down in Cornwall for us five rather than hanging out with your mate Portugal or something."
England looked at him as if he was mad and responded, "Portugal has a busy schedule today, and the dinner isn't just some leisurely activity, we will discuss of our work there as well." She took a quick look on his clothes and said, "If you dare to wear all that to the place, I will throw you out of the castle." She gave him a threat.
UK rolled his eyes in annoyance as he spoke, "What's wrong with this to the restaurant? They don't have bloody anything against a t-shirt and tracksuit joggers, yeah?" The former Empire continued on eating his food, though it's more to drinking as all the cornflakes were gone and he was scooping milk from the spoon.
England sighed as her eyes glared at that annoying younger relative of hers who just so happens to be her son as she answered, "Did you even read the full message, you twat? I clearly asked for all who attend to dress their part and, in the least, semi-formally, and that includes you."
"Why didn't you invite the Crown Dependencies, then?"
"They don't deserve a fancy restaurant to hold a meeting in. A bench in Hyde Park seems fitting enough." She replied as her nearly Green-coloured eyes observed UK's doings. "If you ask about the Overseas Territories, a Zoom meeting would do just well." England continued. UK let out a low hum in reply, and placed the bowl and spoon to the sink afterwards, already finishing his breakfast. UK was about to ask of the woman another question, but England beat him to it, saying, while also using UN and United States' alias, "For the Commonwealth members, that can go another time, maybe in that one shopping mall Uther somehow owns jointly with Pyrander."
UK scoffed hearing England's remark, and opened the fridge once more, oddly expecting for something that doesn't need to be cooked to show up, ultimately failing in the process. England gave the man an amused expression while UK finally decided to check the expiration date on the milk that he recently drank. Well, that didn't take long enough.
England stared at the blue-eyed man with a deadpan look, internally wondering why he was just staring at the carton like that. She decided that it'd be best if she just said, "Also, we're going at one." This surely made UK gain his focus once more, giving her a confused look until she elaborated, "One o'clock at noon, just a few minutes from now."
"It's already twelve?" UK asked her mother quite the stupid question, which made the woman harbour a stare for the man once more.
"Blimey, of course it is, bloody git." She replied shortly which made UK go silent for a while. So apparently UK's breakfast was more of a lunch. Maybe even a brunch, who knows. "In other words, go clean yourself up and make yourself dressed. I am not accepting that look." The light brown-haired woman sharply added.
UK straightened his posture and stomped his way back to his room, leaving an England with a furious reaction of how he should act like how he did when he still had an Empire, sophisticated and respectful. He made sure to slam his bedroom door to make England know that he isn't really having it at the moment, though the highest possibility there is, is that the woman won't even notice it due to their proximity.
It was only half an hour away from one when UK finished his shower, he found himself staring in front of the mirror, combing his thick hair back. A while later wearing the same clothes he previously wore, as he grabbed a few clothes and placed them inside his rucksack. He wiped the lenses of his round glasses and put them on for better visibility. He exited his room with his rucksack on one of his shoulders, as he was greeted by England politely, until she herself realised what he was wearing.
"Didn't I tell you to wear something suitable?" She asked the taller man, who sneered as a response. The woman furrowed her brows as she brought her cane upwards and smacked UK in the head.
"Ow! Bloody hell, woman..." He muttered the last part of the sentence, making England sigh in return. "I'll do that when we get there, it's in me rucksack." He and England got into a stare contest for a few seconds until he himself commented, "Why in Cornwall exactly? We're in Yorkshire, and that's a long way down."
"I'll answer your questions in the car." England replied as she walked towards the Rolls-Royce Wraith that UK owned, entering the front left door and sat in there.
UK rolled his eyes and brought his left arm upwards to see the time using his Ballast Perisher watch. Learning that the time was just ten minutes away from one o'clock, he threw his rucksack on the back and jumped in the driver's seat. England gave the younger man a questioning look, which UK returned with another questioning look.
"What do you want." She asked him directly, her eyes giving off the annoyed glint that can be seen clearly by the other brunette. UK's un-responding stature gave England an idea that UK wanted nothing, and so she continued, "Just get on with it and drive."
"But I- Whatever." The former Representation of the Commonwealth of England wanted to retort and answer, but shoved it off for some odd reason. This indeed caused the woman previously known as the Kingdom of the West Saxons to look at him confusingly, but she shrugged it off a few seconds later.
The drive was silent for quite a while, the tall trees of the roads surrounded by woods were intimidating yet beautiful, the greenery and wildlife that can be seen from the car was astonishing. Though it was just small to medium game present there, England could see herself that, in the least, the place was not a barren plain. She leaned to the back of the comfortable seat and hummed an old song, UK glancing quickly at the direction of his mother to wonder what made her to be in this sort of mood. Maybe it was the scenery, or might it be the fact that she'll be holding a fancy dinner today, the Union just couldn't tell.
"Where are we going to eat for lunch?" UK started a conversation, keeping his focus to the road.
England glanced at him from the window, a bit flabbergasted with his words, as the only reply she gave was, "Hasn't lunch passed already?"
UK, realising that it wasn't actually morning anymore, blinked several times in... well, unsure, rather. Shock, maybe? With that, UK just said, "Oh." The drive went silent for a few more minutes until he asked once more, "How about a snack? Do you need any?"
"No, not really." England responded; her gaze unbroken from the car window. "It's only a six-hour drive, eating can wait until the dinner." She continued, looking at the passing birds and trunks. UK gave no word, and finally, she looked at his direction and asked, "Why must you change it when we get to Cornwall? It's more practical just wearing it from the start, innit?"
The man with blue-coloured eyes frowned as he muttered, "Blimey..." And went on for an answer, "It's more comfortable like this. Y'know, just some casual clothes. Those ones are a bit... they'll be ruined in a long drive."
The woman raised a brow with a judging glint seen in those hazel eyes she had, and opened her mouth to say, "Chap, a suit wouldn't be that ruined with just a bloody long seat. In the least, a few wrinkles here and there."
The younger brunette let out a sigh and responded, "It's not exactly a suit... but still semi-formal, just old."
"Like you?" The woman from UK's left side retorted, gaining a surprised look from her son.
"Bloody hell, woman, that's rubbish. You're older than me!"
"Well," England spoke, posture straight and eyes squinting at him. "I look older because I keep doing your blummin' shambles of a workload by myself, you fucking arse. And you keep going to the nearest settlement for some booze so chuffed and act like some bovver boy chav there. Codswallop, I say. Why can't you just do your bloody work on your own, lazy git?!" UK looked as if he was about to throw a comeback at her way, but she cut him off before he did so, and finished with, "At least you're not dressed like some homeless man now."
"What kind of- You're insulting my fashion sense!" He spoke back, glaring at the elder woman in absolute betrayal.
England once more looked at him judgingly, and spoke, "Drystan clearly agrees that you look like a hobo, and Dòmnhall is just not saying to you directly that your sense is clearly awful. Really, I prefer your younger self much more than your current self." The mother in the car brought the aliases of Wales and Scotland in that order.
"What of Saoirse's opinion?" UK asked of Northern Ireland's, noticing that his mother had forgotten of the newest constituent country in his lands. Typical. "She must think it as great, yes?"
"Are you mental?" England asked him once more. Her brows furrowed in disbelief as she said, "Clearly not, even if she doesn't even speak of your clothes, she must've thought of your choice as horrid." She sneered at the mention of the former Representation of Ulster, and also at her son's question in general. "What's up with those worn sweater and ripped jeans? The coat looks garbage, and that... cloth as a makeshift belt just seals the deal as hobo." She continued with her complains.
"Ah, so you don't have anything against my scarf? How polite of you." He responded with a deadpan expression carved upon his face. "It's only because it used to be yours, innit?" He questioned the woman who sat beside him.
"Obviously." She spoke, voice akin to that of a female version of that potion's professor in J.K. Rowling's book of Harry Potter. Who was his name again? Ah yes, Severus Potter.
The name reminds UK of the name of the former Personification of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha—now merged as one once more as the Personification of Thuringia—'s most used name of Severin. Funnily enough, his personality indeed resembles that of the one who had unrequited feelings for the book's protagonist's mother. Well, it was apparent that the Duchy had no feelings for anyone, but, yes, similar.
The road went on silently and UK took quick glances at the direction of England several times, to see that she had turned her attention away from him and towards the view that lay ahead the window.
"You know, I might just invite all your brothers and sisters still currently living to your side's next reunion." UK brought up another new subject, feeling the car become silent all of a sudden. His mind went on to imagine all of his aunts and half-uncles' reaction to be invited, while focusing with the main task of driving on his hands.
England who heard that snapped back to reality, and yelled out, "No! They already come bloody uninvited anyways, so why invite 'em? A hassle to get to each one of their houses and give 'em those invite cards, especially Kent, why Kent? Why is it that he always comes? Not one of us likes him very much, so why does he even take the hassle on inviting himself every now and then?! I mean, I'm fine with Norfolk and Suffolk, I suppose so, but seriously, Kent? Blummin' Kent?!" UK looked at England worryingly, feeling the sudden need to text his half-uncle dearest former Kingdom of the Kentish to run and hide from the Kingdom of the West Saxons' former Representation's wrath against him. But that'd be law-breaking, and he doesn't do that in the vicinity of England. "Y'know, I'm also fine with Northumberland and County Durham as well, but Kent?! I'm going to murder the man if he ever shows up once more, thank you for reminding me of that, darling, you utterly don't know what I have against him."
"I ought to say, true." UK replied shortly, a bit unsure on what response to give to one of the older of the four countries of his, beaten only by Northern Ireland.
"Totally fine with Essex and Sussex—both of them, a bit of a hassle she split now—all's well. But Kent?!--" UK slowly succumbed to hearing his mother's now endless rant about her youngest brother, lowering down the radio's sound so that he could hear more of the angry secrets his mother would ought to spill every time, and continued on with silence from his side. It was something personal, the former British Empire could tell, something to do with Kent's father being one of the Jutes and him being a bastard son of the erstwhile Representation of Great Britain's grandmother.
The man wondered to himself if Kent had any other half-siblings, not from his mother's side, but his father, though that thought was drowned amongst England's continuous rambling and yelling about that god be damned man who was previously named Kingdom of the Kentish. UK did indeed catch the theory that those might be one of the other Jutish petty kingdoms that used to be in his lands, but the aura of uncertainty still clouded his view.
Similar enough to the sudden fog that engulfs his car. Though not that noticeable to England due to the sheer fact that she's too focused on complaining about why Kent exists. UK didn't find Kent to be annoying, really, so for the doubtful, it's clearly some personal shit that the man who acts as if he never did any wrong as an Empire would never dare put his nose into.
He might even wake up the 'sleeping' White Dragon.
Sometimes UK missed being a kid, being accompanied by a younger England who wouldn't bother him about his paperwork, just acting like a mother, sometimes. Though one of his favourite moments surely came from Wales and his mythologies, surely brings a smile to his grim face in the midst of the car filled with the voice of England.
"What's with the sudden smile." England asked him suddenly, rather demanded, making him glance at her direction quickly, and smiling wider.
"Say, you ever wondered why Wales' mythologies ever called you the 'White Dragon'?" He randomly asked, making the person in question raise one of her eyebrows in suspicion. "And really, a dragon is cooler than a lion." He finished.
England sneered at this, retorting, "A lion would always be better than whatever Wales and his family would come up with. And for your question, no. Why would I? He has horrid imagination." Her hazel eyes rolled as UK finally stops her from ranting about her half-brother Kent more.
"But a dragon flies!" UK says back, making England's eye twitch in annoyance. There was some truth to that, England must admit, that flying is indeed quite amazing, but she just... didn't have that big of a liking to Wales to ever admit that out loud. Especially in front of his blasted face. And so she stayed silent. "Okay, so no comment over that, 'aight, you gave up." He continued, gaining England's attention, as she was about to reply to those words of his with something, but the man interrupted before she managed to say with another question, "How'd you manage to get Wales' schedule free for today? He'd always say that he's too busy even if he's not for things involving you, innit, so why?"
England glanced at him judgingly and proceeded to answer, "I may or may not might have bribed him." A frown following her sentence forming against her neanimorphic face.
UK made an expression which signalled reason, and continued the drive without saying a single other word. The woman that sat beside him looked pleased with this new-found silence, and an ominous smile could be seen creeping upon her facial expression. UK noticed the change of the mood of his mother, and pressed the gas further in to change the scenery faster. He could see the nearest city going into his range of sight, and he could feel England sinking back into the chair.
Huh, odd. What's with her mood changing this quickly?
The Union looked as if he were to ask his mother a question, though halted himself before that as to be more careful for what he should ask to the woman on his left. He had an inkling as to what is happening to her, as she wouldn't be as rash as she would be at the current moment of time. Bribing Wales? That's quite fast, and the son in the car knew that the older brunette wouldn't do things the fast way. The slower and more intricate way was her style, even if that was the hardest fucking way in the cosmos, she's stand with her choice.
And so, he stayed silent. He'd rather not risk the sudden mood change of the Kingdom of England to turn against him, that'd be extremely troublesome. And the Representation previously known as the Commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland would rather not deal with trouble now.
The view outside the window changed from the woods to more of a street view of typical northern England, the roads now bustling with life—even if it may not be as packed as it was before due to the blasted quarantine—rather than just the two's presence in the fog-heavy road they previously were at. England raised a brow at the view, her chin rested upon her metal hand of her left.
UK looked at the time on his wristwatch. 15 o'clock. He himself was surprised with the amount of time which had passed ever since he woke up, but figured that that was normal, things go much quicker as you age after all.
Realising the thought, he grimaced realising his age, but found relief with the fact that he could be considered young in Personification standards. 1578, four hundred and fourty three years, yes, young enough compared to the ones in the mainland. Wait no, scratch that, Wales is considered somewhere after young and before old due to the fact he was born somewhere in the early 1000s, and he's in the Isles. UK quietly hoped that he was not the youngest Personification in the British Isles, though Northern Ireland kept saying that he was, he sincerely doesn't want that, thank you.
He was surprised to hear a slight snore coming from his left, only to see the sight of a wild England leaning her head against the window and atop her hand, both eyes closed. And UK could've sworn his dear mummy was drooling, though he wouldn't be able to confirm due to the fact that he was driving and letting the car go on and have a crash certainly isn't going to be a grand experience for them both.
Importantly, England would be very angry that her favourite suit was ruined.
Was it a suit? The man who was more known as a Flaghead before the 20th century wasn't sure himself, though he had presumed as such because England seemed to wear that fit nearly every formal and semi-formal event that she was to attend. Well, whatever it was, the man had to agree that purple and white mix surprisingly well. That—white coloured blazer, dress trousers, and shiny purple-ish coloured silk waistcoat accompanied with that red cravat made out of the same type as the other pieces—surely made her stand out from the surrounding crowd. Paired with the contrasting black oxford shoes, together they make England's style.
A tired moan from his dear mummy's direction snapped him away from his train of thought, as from the edge of his sight, he was able to define that the teabag of a mother was already awake, seemingly wiping something off from her mouth with a tissue the car had provided, courtesy of dear Great Britain, spouse of dear Kingdom of Hanover who surprisingly survived to become Lower Saxony. Questionable, rather, but he wasn't interested in mainland European politics currently, especially with what goes on in former lands of the Holy Roman Empire. Was it an Empire? He was rather unsure, though he must begrudgingly admit that Charles V's Empire was indeed the First Empire on Which the Sun Never Sets. An interesting feat in where the young man inherited all those combined lands, Spanish and of Holy Rome.
"What time." The demanding tone England harboured made the UK jolt of surprise, unexpectedly empty eyes stared at the direction of the taller Personification who was currently driving.
"17 o'clock." He replied, taking a slight look at his exposed wrist to glance at his black-coloured watch strapped upon it.
"Are we there yet?" She asked a common question asked by any average human that has once roamed this Earth, alive and with a childhood. "Expectedly we'd arrive at 19 o'clock, so I'd say... blimey, no." She apparently answered the question before her son even had the chance to answer. "Where are we, then?" She asked her kid once more.
UK scanned his surroundings, and went with the response of, "Somewhere around Bristol, I'd say." England hummed, as she turned her head back towards the window on her left, continuing the trip in silence. "Why are you the 'White Dragon', again?" He questioned her to break the silence once more.
England stared at him back, seemingly thinking about an answer, until she spoke with a monotonous tone, "Most likely because he's the 'Red Dragon', I'm not too sure. Go ask Drystan once he arrives." The alias of Wales was mentioned by her.
"Doesn't the dragon define the people? The 'White Dragon' the Anglo-Saxon and his family the 'Red Dragon'? The Britons, I suppose." UK retorted a reply, catching England's attention.
"Maybe, I'm not that well-versed in Welsh Mythology. I find it rubbish." She replied shortly, frowning at his direction. The car went on with just the sounds of the engine, until, "Does your arse hurt?" She asked a random question out of the blue, throwing the person in which the question was directed at off guard.
"Bloody hell... yeah, it's uncomfortable just driving for four hours straight. And I still have two more to go." He scratched his nape using his right hand, the left still on the wheel. Placing them back, he continued, "I'm goin' to order a shot of whisky right then on when we arrive."
"What? No, I won't. I'm not letting you drive drunk, dearie. You can get all chuffed to bits after dinner, when we arrive back home." England forbade the younger to go for some booze.
"You seriously made it so that after two hours of being in the bloody fancy eatery, we go straight back home, not even allowing me to get booze?! I'm tired, should'a least just let me just a sip of whisky." He tried reasoning to his mother, though a direct look from her expression set her decision in stone, leaving a grumbling UK left to pick up the crumbs. That didn't stop UK from mumbling some profanity under his breath, though.
"Are you mental? If you end up making me involved in a hit and run, know well that I will not hesitate to defenestrate you." She spoke, as she had noticed the words that her son had just muttered.
"Are you mental?! First you order me to drive you from way up Yorkshire to Dumnonia down there, and then you're forbidding me to drink at least a sip of whisky?! Preposterous! And-" UK was about to continue to rant at his mother, but she interrupted him.
"Eyes on the road."
"Eyes on the-" UK looked back ahead, to realise a random deer that just popped up, squinting, he realised it was a kid in a deer costume.
Turning the wheel, he proceeded with a drift after pulling the hand breaks, narrowly missing the random child, dust and smoke settling behind them.
"The bloody- this isn't Samhain yet, no?" He questioned the woman beside him, who looked ever more slightly both surprised and concerned.
"No, it isn't." She replied shortly, turning her head backwards to take a good look at the toddler, who looked dazed with all that had just happened. Not long after, she could see two tall figures approaching the smaller one, presumably the offspring's parents. "We're still early in the year." She turned her head back after finishing her sentence, stretching her jaw afterwards. "Time?"
"18.30." He replied shortly, staying silent for now. And it seemed that the oldest daughter of Provincia Britannia agreed with what her son had silently decided, and followed suit with the silence.
She figured that she and the Union were now close to the place, as she realised the massive body of water that was seen on her left. Raising both eyebrows, she hummed to herself in understanding, and no more sounds were heard inside the car.
It didn't take long for UK to realise that their destination was right on their left, turning to that direction, and going into the place's parking lot to find a space. He was surprised to see the place awfully empty, but figured that it was just due to the whole pandemic happening quite lately.
Finishing the park, UK along with his mother exited the Rolls-Royce that the former owned, with the mentioned man opening the back door to get his rucksack which had his clothes in there. England scanned him from up top to bottom, scowling for a while.
"Why's it so... quiet? You didn't book the whole place just for us, no?" UK asked, looking at his mother in concern for their money's well-being.
"What? No, utterly preposterous. That'd be a waste of money," She uttered the first part of her sentence, making the Head of the Commonwealth look even more concerned. "Some guy booked the whole place for some... party. I'm quite sure he wanted to book my part of the table, but I got it earlier than he did. And his bribery wouldn't really work against me, such little amount of money..." She mumbled the last part in order for no one undesirable to hear her words.
"Why is she making more rational decisions...?" UK wondered to himself out loud, making England's attention squared up at him and him only.
"What'd you just say?"
UK shook his head slowly, saying, "Nothing... let's just go in."
Entering the place, UK immediately noticed the brightness of the place, squinting his eyes as he stared off the biggest source of light in the place, the gigantic chandelier hanging down the tall ceiling. He saw England talk to a woman, and let her be, as he inspected the surrounding area to look for the restroom, which didn't take long, as he saw the symbol for it in the corner. He looked around to find England's whereabouts, a while later seeing her asking him to come over. He did so, and noticed where they'd be sitting.
It was a circular table with white cloth, material presumable made out of silk or satin, with five seats present there. The plates and wine glass were present there, he hummed and nodded his head slowly in slight impression.
"'M going to the restroom for a change." He spoke, heading back to where he saw the sign in the entrance. England hummed in understanding, and he left the woman alone.
The place was only filled by the waiters of the place, but it didn't take that long of time to find the door entrance open wide once more, with a dapper man entering through the place with a grand enter. He spoke quite loudly, England notice, looking upwards to notice the man walking to her direction, immediately realising that the man that had just arrived was Dòmnhall, or rather, Scotland.
"Ah, you arrived just in time." England started, her gloved hands inspecting the wine glass, and continued to gaze over the younger man's fit. "Surprisingly dapper." She remarked.
"Well, I don't deny food." The man answered with surprisingly no stereotypical Glaswegian accent, rather in an odd mix of American and King's English, though it sounded a bit Australian at times. "And what's with that last part? I always look dapper."
"Yes... totally..." Sarcasm leaked through the elder's words, and she kept her eyes stuck on her apparent husband as he took a seat for himself and sat down, leaning to the back of the comfy chair immediately. His hands fixing the blue-coloured tie of his, straightening the dark grey suit he wore.
The two sat in an uncomfortable silence, both watching each other's moves intently. The attention to each one of them both was broken when the sight of a much more suitably-dressed son of theirs entered both's eyesight.
The young man who inherited his father's features of eye and hair colour wore a black tailcoat with silver buttons with the insides of it coloured dark grey with silver floral patterned trims. His white dress shirt with a wingtip collar, dark grey waistcoat trimmed with silver lining, and black bow tie accompanied with it. His pair of round rimless glasses that he previously wore kept intact. He also wore a pair of dress pants, shoes, and gloves, the two former pairs coloured black while the latter was coloured as dark grey.
"Ah, certainly unexpected to see you wear that old piece." England commented, watching her son much more intensely than what she had done to her spouse as he sat down.
"At least I don't change my 'formal' attire every start of the century..." The youngest among the Personifications present on the table muttered the first words that he had just spoke, continuing the next part with a louder voice, "What do you mean by 'unexpected'? Did you expect me to wear the average business suit or whatever you could think of?" He questioned the woman who sat on his right.
"Oh, no, I simply merely expected you to dress similarly to Mr. Rich Uncle Milburn Pennybags-Monopoly Man." She replied with a deadpan expression, which was accompanied with a monotonous voice that she uses often to annoy people.
"Who?" Scotland asked for his son, wondering whoever the bloody hell his god be damned wife just referenced.
"I don't... what?" UK sounded as confused as his father was, albeit with a bit more... how do I say this, passion and feeling, in those words.
"Do you actually not know?" She asked with her head turned to the direction of her son. "I mean, I expect this bloody husband of mine to not--" Making the mentioned man on UK's left bring a hand to his mouth to act in dramatic shock. "But you? I'm surprised."
"Maybe shorten the name a bit? You spoke his—presumably—name quite quickly, and I didn't catch all of his names. Only the 'Mr. Rich' and 'Milburn Poundbags'-" He was instead cut off with the last word.
"Pennybags. Not Poundbags. I'm not sure where you got the 'Quid' from, but no." England halted her words, with UK raising one of his brows for an answer. Scotland in the other hand, looked to his right, noticing the new guests which had arrived, along with the masks covering their faces. "In shorter terms, Mr. Monopoly Man."
"Monopoly- blimey, you should've just said that in the beginning!" UK replied after he realised of the mentioned man's identity. "What's with all the extra names? Like Rich... something, and Milburn Pound-" Looking at the expression his mother threw at him, he corrected himself, "Pennybags. Did they give him more names, or..."
"Ah, no, his name was originally 'Rich Uncle Pennybags', and then they added 'Milburn' to his name in the late '80s. Mr. Monopoly and Monopoly Man is just two of his common names." She explained concisely, making UK nod in understanding.
UK, just as Scotland a while before, finally noticed the coming guests, and so he asked, "So, what about this rich man who booked the whole place for himself?"
"Oh no, he booked every table but two. Mine's, and some other guy who'll seat behind us," She motioned her head towards the table on UK's right-hand side, and continued her sentence, saying, "It's a masquerade, and all the guests invited are other rich people from all over your lands." She began to notice Scotland perking up and now paying attention to what she was saying, but didn't gave a damn to that, and droned on, "So expect some extravagant clothing from them. This place looked a bit different than what I remember, so I believe they altered the place just for him and his partygoers."
"About the whole fancy things," Scotland piped up, gaining both his wife and son's attention. "I nearly slipped in the entrance."
"And...?" England raised a brow with a judging tone.
"Did it rain earlier? Why's there a random puddle on the ground? I nearly fell, but yeah I managed to catch meself from getting me clothes soggy." Scotland pointed out.
"No, it didn't rain earlier. I'm quite sure it rained in the morning in where we lived, though. Hasn't rained since 12 o'clock, and the sky doesn't look overcast at all, just a bit of fog." UK came to a pause after this, not long after continuing, "But we live quite high in terms of altitude, so that's expected."
"If you look at some of the men's clothes near the arse, you can see it's wet." He pointed it out, making the youngest brunette of a Representation in the area raise both his eyebrows in surprise. "They probably fell on the puddle. But, I mean, it didn't look that deep to actually trip on."
"What does this have to do with anything, again?" England questioned the man who sat in front of her, who was still leaning to his chair. The man scoffed at her question.
"Hm, nothing, just pointing out some peculiarities."
England rolled her eyes at this, though she was startled when someone grabbed her right shoulder, to realise that the person who did that was another one of the constituent countries of the lands her son personified, Northern Ireland.
"Blimey- how did you-"
The hazel-eyed woman was instead interrupted by the woman with viridian-coloured eyes, as she said, "I think you focused on arguing with your family more."
"Not that I intended to-" Yet again, the younger humanoid found her words to be cut off by the dear oldest among the current four, gaining a sneer carved upon her facial expression.
"Mhm, yes, most plausible." She spoke, as she walked to Scotland's side and sat beside him. The man on her right chuckled at this, and the sound of grumbling could be heard from UK's right. "Say, I'm not late now, am I?" The auburn-haired woman asked the man beside her, glancing the empty chair that sat between her and England right after.
"Oh, you're on time, Saoirse." Scotland, realising where Northern Ireland's eyes had landed, continued on, "Drystan would be late, as always. Surprising he even agreed to this." He glared at the woman who bared hazel eyes with suspicion.
The woman in question decided for a short answer, saying, "I bribed him."
"You-" Scotland's voice fluctuated to a higher decibel, but he cleared his throat after halting his own words, bringing his right hand upwards to massage his throat, as he continued, "What's with the sudden speed? Are you, in any sense, okay?"
"Yeah, that choice is a bit... odd, to say the least." The woman with the alias of Saoirse tried finding a fitting word, ending with 'odd' in the end.
"What is all that supposed to mean? Yes, of course, I'm fine. What is wrong with bribing Drystan?" She questioned both Scotland and Northern Ireland.
"Are you in your time?" The youngest abruptly asked, making England throw a surprised look at her own blood and skin's direction.
"Why are you- you don't need to know that."
"Alright, you do you I suppose." Northern Ireland piped up, ultimately making the younger woman glare at her questionably. Scotland on the other hand, simply nodded slowly with her response, frowning along with it. England furrowed both her brows with her husband's reaction, and she grumbled something under her breath.
"So, when can we order food." UK questioned every other Personification in the table. "At least let me get some whisky to make it flow down faster-"
"No booze." England replied shortly, continuing after, "We wait for Drystan for the food."
"Wait- oh for fuck's sake, can't bloody Drystan just come quicker now? I'm starving." The Scot emphasised the first and last words he had said, looking at his wristwatch which showed that twenty minutes had passed since six o'clock, and dearest Wales was not in sight.
"Apparently not," The one who formerly bore the title of the Province Representation of Ulster said, placing her chin upon her right hand, which in itself was supported by the table, "I mean, I don't know Wales that much, maybe any one of you lot can predict when he'll be coming in and finally let us have this bloody dinner?" She continued with a tone which signified annoyance.
UK was the one who answered Northern Ireland's question, saying, "Aye, don't know, ask England. She used to be married to him, weren't ya?" With the last sentence—a question, he looked towards the direction his mother was, and threw her an intrigued look.
England looked annoyed with the younger blue-eyed Personification had asked her of—knowing very well that he himself knew the answer to that as much as she did—and frowned, but decided to reply him with, "Yes, clearly. Before Scotland, even though he was already a part of my land, I had only got hand for an annullation with that annoying man after Harry managed to himself, with dear Catherine. Managed to do that before you were born."
UK blinked several times after hearing what the second oldest had said, taking all the information in, with the addition of automatically translating the name of Harry to Henry the VIII, and went on to ask her another question, "Are you two related?"
"Y'know, I've been thinking about that meself." Scotland leaned to Northern Ireland's side to whisper those words to her.
"What-" The Romano-Saxon woman by birth looked at him flabbergasted, wondering what urged this Anglo-Scot child of hers to ever ask her this question, resulting with her voicing out her thoughts, "Why would you ever think of that?"
"Provincia Britannia—your mother and my maternal grandmother—had lands which not only belonged to you now, but also encompasses Wales, specifically Britannia Superior."
England interrupted the man before he was finished with his reasoning, as she said, "And your point?"
"Did he descend from her? As in, are you both siblings-"
UK found his words cut off as his mother slammed her cane to his head, making him yelp with the sudden move, as he wasn't expecting that at all. England glared daggers towards him, as she saw him clutch his head with his left hand, as she said, "Golly gosh, no! I don't bloody know if he's related to Britannia Superior, but he for sure is not related to me, especially as a brother."
Northern Ireland noticed the table behind England was now occupied, with faces she found familiar enough. There were four men, and another had brought a camera, seemingly filming them. She found it surprising that she hadn't realised the five's arrival before, but shrugged it off. They were all well-dressed, but did not wear masks as what the other guests in the place had done, which made her come to the conclusion that the group were not in correlation with the others, backed up with what England had just said a few minutes earlier.
"Huh, glad to know you're not related to him." Scotland spoke out of the blue, "Are the two siblings, though? I meant your mother and Britannia Superior?" It was now Scotland's time to ask, as his son looked quite a bit unable to throw any questions at the current moment of time, as he still slouched, clutching his dear head and looking as if he had just saw the most horrid thing on Earth.
"Heavens, no." Another voice—a man's—replies to the son of who the Roman Empire dubbed as Caledonia's question instead of the voice—of a woman, if you needed to be reminded—that should've been heard from England direction. "Not siblings, at all. My grandfather is not her mother's brother, in any way possible."
"Drystan!" The man who was now identified as Wales had his alias shouted at by Northern Ireland, which made some other guests in the place look at her oddly. Some looks did land at the man's face, which made some of them surprised with the man's appearance here. "Finally, you came. It's already thirty minutes behind our supposed time to eat, so come sit down!"
Wales hummed, sitting between the two women in the table, and was bombarded with the curious look that Scotland had for him. "What do you want now?"
"I didn't know you were related to Britannia Superior." Scotland spoke, with a grin present as his facial expression, while the woman who sat against him—England, the Kingdom of the Angles, the Kingdom of the West Saxons whatever you would like to call her as—frowned slightly at the presence of the three on the same table as she was, but calmed herself down and kept a neutral expression as she was the one who invited them.
"Well, I am." He looked around, and noticed some people glancing at him, their mask covering their whole face, as it was a combination between those face masks and the masquerade masks. "Who are they?" He asked as he altered his head's direction to his left. "And why is he so silent?" He looked at UK.
"Some fancy lads and ladies who came for a masquerade dinner. The one behind England isn't one of them, though." Northern Ireland was the one who replied to Wales' question instead of England, the person his question was directed at. "For the young laddie, he got hit by a cane to the head."
Wales hummed in understanding, and a waiter finally came to their table to deliver the food that UK's constituent countries had ordered, which made the man mentioned confused when a fancy plate of steak appeared in front of his face. His face showed confusion, as he looked at England, fairly sure that they haven't ordered anything yet, but her eyes showed a glint of amusement instead.
"I guess you didn't read the full message, then." England spoke, as she took off her white gloves, which revealed the mechanical hands that she had under both those silk gloves. "Well, I told them to order before they go to our table." She motioned towards the other three, in where some even had already started devouring the food placed in front of them, which made her grimace. "And I was the one who ordered for you, because you need to take care of your diet, and I'm not allowing you to order any alcohol this night."
"Are you bloody kidding me?!" He looked furious, but was found on deaf ears as England merely started eating the culinary delight that so happened to be her favourite. "Fine, at least I have real hands of my own to eat with." He muttered, oblivious to the fact that everyone on the table he was on had heard that last sentence he had just said.
England looked very taken aback at that, and glared at him for a while, looking at her mechanical hands with that same glare being used, before finally retorting back, "Take those words back you fucking brat!" She stood up, cane in hand.
UK, finally realising the horrid situation he's in, stood abruptly and pushed his chair back, before running off somewhere, with a very, and I mean very furious England in pursuit of his tracks, gaining a few odd and annoyed looks from the other guests.
"Oh gosh, this is gonna end so terribly for him." Scotland commented, as the other two constituent countries nodded in agreement, all while Wales rolled his eyes and gave out a scoff, making Northern Ireland look at him weirdly in return.
"What? He deserves it, that's for sure."
Safe to say, UK is so not going to be able to use his left hand for a while without it hurting.
How is he going to safely drive? Who knows! His matter to think about, not mine.
I hate them so much.