Post by Nederland on Mar 23, 2011 16:52:48 GMT -5
Despite waking moments earlier he continued to lie still, refusing to open his eyes. Dream chasing. Following the ethereal, red, trail in hopes it will lead him back to slumber. Back to a sensation of lifeless bliss; where he could care less of what he did or thought. But, with each step he took forwards, the red strings began to fade. That was all he could remember of the dream. Red. He hated seeing colors in his dreams. He hated that it was always red. Red was too angry, too... passionate. He hated passion. He hated emotions. He hated that he was still so desperate to keep dreaming whatever it was. Hated how much-- ... See? He already cared about what he was thinking.
A groan. His eyelids squishing together as his brows creased. He squirmed under the weight on his chest. What was that anyway? Who cares. He's trying to—
The weight moved.
Eyes went wide, angry, passion-filled. He didn’t sit up, but his neck was craned, shooting his crazed eyes at—an infant?
Said infant looked back, large childish eyes seeming so happy, so unafraid. It giggled, saliva bubbling from its lips.
Gross.
Netherlands rolled his eyes before leaning his head back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling... and then to his 16th century surroundings.
He still wasn’t used to it.
And his nerves were all over the place.
Not even any tobacco to settle them.
He'll have to wait a couple of decades for Spain to bring them back from the new world.
...Spain...
Spanje.
He could feel his younger, naïve self getting excited at the thought of him. Why? Why not? He discovered the new world after all. Think of all the things he could show you, teach you, let you experience. Then there was just the fact that Spain had everything he needed. Everything. Philip the Fair wouldn't shut up about Spain either.
How great would the Spanish crown look on him? Oh, Netherlands couldn't wait to find out.
Fuck was I dumb.
But in his defence, no one really knew the real Spain. No one knew what he did to his colonies. Not yet.
...He never knew what Spain would later do to him either.
After reminding his foolish 17-year-old body that Spain was a dick-wad, he peeled the infant off his chest and sat up, placing the kid in his lap and staring down at him through dirty-blonde bangs.
"Goedemorgen, Karel." Was it really morning? Fuck if he knew. The infant answered with some drool and noises. And as Netherlands stared down at him, he could really only think of ringing his neck. His soft... tiny neck. Snap the thing in two. Like a chicken's.
And then he thought about what would happen to the world if he did so.
He groaned as he reminded himself that killing off the heir to the Spanish, Austrian, Burgundian, and whatever else’s thrones was a beyond a stupid idea, you know... even if it would be fun to see everyone freak out. Especially Austria. But most of all it would rid him of Spanish control.
However, it would be best to just not think of anything like that. And so, the Dutchman placed the future emperor off his lap and got himself out of bed and went about searching for some clothes which wouldn't be... too ridiculous. Thank god this was before the frills became popular. How he would fear the fashion in the coming decades.
In any case, he went simple. Deciding to dress in lower class than royal. Which suited the merchant "nation" quite well. A knee-length cotte, belt, hose, boots. He was wearing a cross around his neck. He stared at the mirror. Stared at the cross. That’s right, he was Catholic again.
Gross.
He shook his head. Now. What to do with his hair?
When will they invent hair gel?
What did he use to get it to stand up like that in this century?
Okay, he didn’t want to think about that.
So, leaving his hair in his face, he picked up a sash, picked up Charles, and came up with a way to tie the infant to his chest in a way that was comfortable for them both. A sling
He looked back to the mirror.
Oh yeah, totally manly.
With a grunt, Netherlands left the room to go on a stroll through Ghent. Which would become part of modern Belgium. The Flemish half of it. Why was he here? Well, he couldn't really keep a close eye on the little brat from Amsterdam could he? Besides, he was waiting for Philip and wife to make one of their famous trips to Spain. Yes, he wanted to go with them. No, he didn't want to just go there for the sake of going there. Just to talk. That would give the wrong impression.
And so, until then, he would walk and think. Lots of thinking. Possibly too much thinking. Seeing Belgium would be cool too.
A groan. His eyelids squishing together as his brows creased. He squirmed under the weight on his chest. What was that anyway? Who cares. He's trying to—
The weight moved.
Eyes went wide, angry, passion-filled. He didn’t sit up, but his neck was craned, shooting his crazed eyes at—an infant?
Said infant looked back, large childish eyes seeming so happy, so unafraid. It giggled, saliva bubbling from its lips.
Gross.
Netherlands rolled his eyes before leaning his head back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling... and then to his 16th century surroundings.
He still wasn’t used to it.
And his nerves were all over the place.
Not even any tobacco to settle them.
He'll have to wait a couple of decades for Spain to bring them back from the new world.
...Spain...
Spanje.
He could feel his younger, naïve self getting excited at the thought of him. Why? Why not? He discovered the new world after all. Think of all the things he could show you, teach you, let you experience. Then there was just the fact that Spain had everything he needed. Everything. Philip the Fair wouldn't shut up about Spain either.
How great would the Spanish crown look on him? Oh, Netherlands couldn't wait to find out.
Fuck was I dumb.
But in his defence, no one really knew the real Spain. No one knew what he did to his colonies. Not yet.
...He never knew what Spain would later do to him either.
After reminding his foolish 17-year-old body that Spain was a dick-wad, he peeled the infant off his chest and sat up, placing the kid in his lap and staring down at him through dirty-blonde bangs.
"Goedemorgen, Karel." Was it really morning? Fuck if he knew. The infant answered with some drool and noises. And as Netherlands stared down at him, he could really only think of ringing his neck. His soft... tiny neck. Snap the thing in two. Like a chicken's.
And then he thought about what would happen to the world if he did so.
He groaned as he reminded himself that killing off the heir to the Spanish, Austrian, Burgundian, and whatever else’s thrones was a beyond a stupid idea, you know... even if it would be fun to see everyone freak out. Especially Austria. But most of all it would rid him of Spanish control.
However, it would be best to just not think of anything like that. And so, the Dutchman placed the future emperor off his lap and got himself out of bed and went about searching for some clothes which wouldn't be... too ridiculous. Thank god this was before the frills became popular. How he would fear the fashion in the coming decades.
In any case, he went simple. Deciding to dress in lower class than royal. Which suited the merchant "nation" quite well. A knee-length cotte, belt, hose, boots. He was wearing a cross around his neck. He stared at the mirror. Stared at the cross. That’s right, he was Catholic again.
Gross.
He shook his head. Now. What to do with his hair?
When will they invent hair gel?
What did he use to get it to stand up like that in this century?
Okay, he didn’t want to think about that.
So, leaving his hair in his face, he picked up a sash, picked up Charles, and came up with a way to tie the infant to his chest in a way that was comfortable for them both. A sling
He looked back to the mirror.
Oh yeah, totally manly.
With a grunt, Netherlands left the room to go on a stroll through Ghent. Which would become part of modern Belgium. The Flemish half of it. Why was he here? Well, he couldn't really keep a close eye on the little brat from Amsterdam could he? Besides, he was waiting for Philip and wife to make one of their famous trips to Spain. Yes, he wanted to go with them. No, he didn't want to just go there for the sake of going there. Just to talk. That would give the wrong impression.
And so, until then, he would walk and think. Lots of thinking. Possibly too much thinking. Seeing Belgium would be cool too.
