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Oct 7, 2012 0:24:30 GMT -5 |
Post by Alfred "America" F. Jones on Oct 7, 2012 0:24:30 GMT -5
[style=width: 420px; background: #121212; color: white; font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic; text-align: center; font-size: 48px; letter-spacing: -4px; line-height: 60px; padding-bottom: 4px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.8;]i've got two strong arms, i can help tag: Teresa // words: 551 // notes: Came out shorter. [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 150px; v-align: top; padding-bottom: 200px; height: 200px;] | [style=height: 400px; overflow: auto; font-family: verdana; line-height: 11px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 0px;] Another reason Alfred was blowing the good news out of proportion was that he felt Teresa could use all the encouragement he could provide her. It was his way of satiating his hero complex even though Teresa refused his help outright. Though again, if he knew precisely what was happening, he would force his way in to help, regardless whether she asked for it or not.
Her next response caused a grin to spread across his face, especially at her usage of the word hero. Tequila. Of course she wanted the tequila. He wouldn't mind another drink himself, though he was going to try his best not to get too drunk. He could handle lighter drinks, such as beer and wine, and through years of experience also knew how much whiskey and rum he could handle before trouble started brewing. He was less apt with beverages such as tequila and vodka. He didn't know his limits on those drinks, and therefore when he drank them, he tended to go too far.
Yeah, he'd stick with beer for tonight. There were some nights he didn't mind letting the alcohol take the lead, but this was not one of them.
"I can be your hero baby." Alfred sung to the tune of the familiar Enrique Iglesias song, a smirk on his face.
Alfred rose to his feet when Teresa did, taking her hand in his. Good, she wanted to head out. Alfred really did have no problem staying where they were if she wanted to, but he preferred it this way. He preferred getting away from the spot where he'd found Teresa crying in the first place, placing as much of a distance between that and the (apparent) good mood that Teresa was in now.
He didn't know what music she had in mind, but music was music, and distractions were distractions. So long as they slipped away from this bar and enjoyed themselves, Alfred wasn't about to complain. He started for the door, deciding that they could just pick up their drinks at their next location, if they had a bar. It wouldn't make much sense to get their drinks from here if they were planning on leaving, after all!
Alfred felt the slightest bit of pink creeping into his cheeks as Teresa commented on his slip of the tongue. Though it wasn't really a slip, just a usage of slang that was a bit outdated. Still, he didn't particularly like to be laughed at when he didn't intentionally do something to spur it on. It was one thing if he was trying to get someone to laugh, but damn, this just felt awkward.
That said, he would just play it off. Besides, even if it was unintentional, Teresa was amused, and that was a plus. The further he could pull her away from the state that he'd found her in the better. A happy Teresa meant a successful venture for the night. "Well, obviously I do." The corners of his mouth twitched up into a smirk. "Would you rather I'd have said 'Let's beat it, this juice joint is all wet?'" Well hey, if she found his slang amusing, he'd turn up the notch a bit.
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[/td][/tr][/table][/style][/style][style=padding-top: 5px; font-family: courier new; font-size: 7px; padding-bottom: 2px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 2px;">template by eliza @ shadowplay[/style][/center]
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Oct 9, 2012 0:00:49 GMT -5 |
Post by Teresa "Mexico" Hidalgo on Oct 9, 2012 0:00:49 GMT -5
She was an idiot. She was an idiot for denying his help; for refusing to let him do for her what she obviously couldn’t do for herself. He was like her brother – albeit one that always forgot her birthday, for butting into her business, for telling her who she could and could not be friends with, for taking care of her children in ways she could never even imagine…the list went on and on, but it didn’t erase the fact that Teresa Hidalgo was an idiot. She couldn’t even…muster up the courage to tell him about how she felt – about how cowardly she was in nature and how she would never, ever, be able to change unless he went in an preformed a miracle.
Teresa found, in her very long experience of walking this awful planet, that tequila did wonders for her. It took off the stress and reminded her that she had a very strong gut. She could handle her own against the big shots – Ludwig, Gilbert, and even Ivan if she was in an especially bad mood. It always struck her as funny that these huge, tall men were drunk under the table by such a tiny girl. Then again, she also handled her liquor far better than Matthew and Alfred, too. She blamed it, partially, on all of the things that she had been forced to stomach when she was younger. Chocolate that hadn’t really been chocolate yet that was bitter and, on occasion when the priests were feeling especially sadistic, brought even some of the strongest warriors to their feet.
“Don’t kill the song, amigo.” She teased him. His hand in hers felt familiar, but not in the usual sense one would believe. Despite the fact that Alfred was…“older” than her as a country, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was playing the part of an older sister. In reality, it was Alfred that carried most of their friendship on. Yes, she loved him and cared for him, but she tended to get wrapped in her own doings. She was, although she didn’t like to admit it, a recluse by nature in that she minded her own business unless she was threatened. Also, even though she didn’t like to admit that eithers, she was still bitter about her kids. ”I like the song.
Sometimes, when Alfred was being a big idiot with a swollen head, all she could do to remind herself not to yell at him was that her kids were safe. Not only that, but they were happy and were not taking hits from the cartels like her own wards were. She had to remind herself that, even though she rarely exercised it, she was invited to go to Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico whenever she wanted. She had to remember that the majority of the people living in California were still hers and that, eventually, Texas and her would see eye-to-eye. (Teresa couldn’t help but hate Texas, though. She still had nightmares about the Republic of Texas.)
She couldn’t say that she dragged Alfred down the street. (One did not simply drag him anywhere – he was a lot heavier than she was, and his crazy strength always had her wary if she was giving him a proper hug.) But, she could say that she pulled him slightly behind her. She loved bars, and she also loved staying inside when she should have been outside, doing something fun. That much was true, but she also loved going out and dancing. Admittedly, if that was something that would have occurred to the Mexican earlier, she could have almost bet that she wouldn’t have been wearing what she was. She would have gotten something more suited to do it. Heels which would be a lot higher than the shoes she had on, and even tighter pants and shirts. Teresa wondered if dancing with Alfred would be as awkward as dancing with Mateo. She adored her boyfriend – loved him, even – but it was so hard to dance with him when he towered over her incredibly small frame.
She snorted, not at all mortified by the fact that it was hardly a very ladylike thing to do. That was the kind of thing she never had to worry about with Alfred – after all, when they first met, she was akin to a bandit traveling on horseback with some of the Indians that lived in Texas, New Mexico, and even Arizona. “No. Let’s not have you say that, especially where we’re going.” Teresa smiled knowingly. “Didn’t you tell me you were brushing up on your Spanish?” Americans weren’t…infrequent in dances and bars she normally attended…it was just weird to see them frequent the places.
STARRING : Teresa&Alfred WORDS : 787 STATUS : open NOTES : feel free to tell me if i assumed too much in anything, lol.. LYRICS USED : USE SOMEBODY - KINGS OF LEON OUTFIT : here BANNER CREDIT : TANA[/font]
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Oct 10, 2012 1:24:09 GMT -5 |
Post by Alfred "America" F. Jones on Oct 10, 2012 1:24:09 GMT -5
[style=width: 420px; background: #121212; color: white; font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic; text-align: center; font-size: 48px; letter-spacing: -4px; line-height: 60px; padding-bottom: 4px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.8;]i've got two strong arms, i can help tag: Teresa // words: 686 // notes: There, that one's a little longer! [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 150px; v-align: top; padding-bottom: 200px; height: 200px;] | [style=height: 400px; overflow: auto; font-family: verdana; line-height: 11px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 0px;] If Alfred knew what was going on, he wouldn't consider Teresa to be a coward. It wasn't as though he hadn't gone through the same motions. He was stubborn too, and admitting that he needed help in any case was a struggle for him. He would easily be able to understand where she was coming from, if it came down to it - Though that didn't mean he'd be happy with her. He would likely snap at her, asking her why she'd kept this from him for so long. He wouldn't be snapping at her because he was angry, but because he was concerned and frustrated. Most of all with himself. He'd be frustrated with himself because he failed to see through the shield she was putting up. Heroes were supposed to know when something was going wrong, and swoop in to save the day.
The problem was that Alfred could not live up to his own standards of a hero. He never could, because the standards he set were impossibly high. He couldn't save everyone. He was a nation, yes, but a human nation, and that meant that even he had limitations. He was also more than capable of making mistakes, and had.
It was something he tried not to dwell on though. It just made him depressed.
Fortunately, Teresa chose this time to respond to his "singing", his face transforming into a mock pout. "Kill the song? I thought I did a great job with it!" This was more like it. A grin came across his face after he felt that he'd pouted for a sufficient amount of time to get his point across.
Alfred allowed himself to be led along. Yes, he could easily pull back with his strength, but he didn't want to. Teresa obviously knew were they were going better than he did. It occurred to Alfred that he was still dressed up somewhat from the conferences that let out earlier, having not stopped back at the hotel. Fortunately, said conferences hadn't required him to be dressed to the nines, but these weren't the casual clothes he'd usually wear out clubbing either.
Although his bomber jacket was part of the ensemble. It was always part of the ensemble, unless it happened to be a hot day in the middle of July where he'd just as soon die of heatstroke if he wore that jacket.
Alfred was used to being taller than most of the other nations. He was the same height as Matthew, of course, though not the tallest nation - That prize fell to Ivan, much to Alfred's chagrin. He still hated when Ivan beat him at anything, and yes, a completely uncontrollable attribute such as height was considered a part of this.
She was right - Alfred could care less that she snorted, and in fact let loose a few chuckles of his own at it. Alfred once again let a look of mock disappointment creep over his features. "So no 20s slang then? Aww darn." He wasn't planning on dropping 20s slang all night, but sometimes it was fun to slip into the old slang just to see how people would react. He could still understand it with ease, of course - Having lived through the entirety of the Roaring 20s did that - but most of the slang had fallen by the wayside. Not all of it, though - There were words and phrases originating in the 20s that were still used today, though Alfred doubted most knew those phrases were nearly 100 years old.
Alfred nodded, with a small grin. "Si, senorita." He had an easier time understanding it than speaking it, but thanks to his growing Hispanic population, he was fairly certain he'd be able to survive in a country where Spanish was the main language. Mind, he'd probably get a few comments about his accent and occasional mispronunciation of words, but hey, as long as he could communicate pretty well with them, it was no big deal.
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Oct 20, 2012 22:27:25 GMT -5 |
Post by Teresa "Mexico" Hidalgo on Oct 20, 2012 22:27:25 GMT -5
She blamed it on Azteca and Maya. She blamed her stubbornness on them, she realized. They had been too proud to admit they needed help from the tribes around them once Spain had mounted up an attack against them. They had fallen (although, Aztec had lost to smallpox more than she had to Antonio and Cortez), and they had left the twins as legacies. Teresa scratched her upper arm, wincing slightly. She wasn’t sure if there was anything forming there or if it was the imagined drugs doing this to her. All she knew was that she felt the need to curl up in a ball. But, she couldn’t very well do that. Not when she was pulling on Alfred in a direction she wanted to go to. If she started having drugs withdrawals, she wasn’t sure there was anything she could do to get him to leave her alone.
All she could think about was how thankful she was to have Okinawa have visited her that one day; to have Japan’s ward escort her to the hospital and stay with her there. She had been…so frightened to think that the videogame addict would make off and tell Alfred – or, admittedly, worse; Matthew! – that she was in the hospital again. Anyone who visited a medical facility with her once in her home country would realize that it wouldn’t have been the first time she would be there. There were doctors that were specifically assigned to her; doctors under the penalty of death never to reveal who she was. Of course, some of them broke the promise and told on her anyway. Except, the cartels already knew about her; they all worked under her.
“No; you should just let Enrique Iglesias sing that song.” Teresa shook her head, throwing him a slight smirk as she turned the corner and led him down that street. “He does such a lovely song; even if it’s not the Spanish I’m used to.” She paused in her speech for a second before sighing. “I so much prefer my own, no te parece? I’m so tired of people asking me if Shakira is Mexican. Columbia never lets me live it down.” Teresa honestly loved her position. She loved living south of Alfred. She was able to go off and interact with the other old colonies of Spain, but she still maintained a close relationship with her the rest of her North American family.
She laughed again, pausing as they approached the club. There were some couples standing around, swaying to the music that sounded from the door. The majority of them were Hispanic – Teresa wouldn’t do them the indecency of claiming them all for her, because they weren’t all hers – with old timed cowboy hats on their heads and alligator boots. She resisted the urge to snicker loudly as she turned towards him, eyes twinkling as she led the two of them passed the crowd. At the very front of the line, she let go of Alfred’s hand and dug through her back pocket, pulling out her wallet with her picture. The bouncer merely nodded his head, and she grabbed onto his sleeve to pull him in. The music wasn’t as fast as the clubs he was probably used to, but they were perfect for her. Honestly, she wasn’t sure how much she would be able to dance without wincing. But, dancing also provided for an excuse if she started shaking. “I didn’t really like the 20s.” She stated, idly with her voice being raised in an effort to be heard over the music. “What with having just got out of the Revolution only to be sucked into the Cristero War, too.” All in all, all she did during the 20s was try to stabilize herself.
“I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to understand everything that was being said by the music.” She grinned, claiming an empty table for the two of them. They would probably lose it by the time they did go out. “Es más divertido cuando puedes entender.”
STARRING : Teresa&Alfred WORDS : 677 STATUS : open NOTES : i'm so tired...XD LYRICS USED : USE SOMEBODY - KINGS OF LEON OUTFIT : here BANNER CREDIT : TANA
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Oct 21, 2012 0:24:51 GMT -5 |
Post by Alfred "America" F. Jones on Oct 21, 2012 0:24:51 GMT -5
[style=width: 420px; background: #121212; color: white; font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic; text-align: center; font-size: 48px; letter-spacing: -4px; line-height: 60px; padding-bottom: 4px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.8;]i've got two strong arms, i can help tag: Teresa // words: 624 // notes: Got that one up quickly! =) [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 150px; v-align: top; padding-bottom: 200px; height: 200px;] | [style=height: 400px; overflow: auto; font-family: verdana; line-height: 11px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 0px;]
Alfred had a doctor assigned to him as well, a specialist who was trained early on and usually spent their entire career with Alfred. Alfred certainly didn't see the men and women who occupied the position regularly - He usually only visited the doctor when something major was going on. Being what he was, there was really no reason to get regular annual check-ups anyway. He only needed to go when he was ill or injured, and sometimes not even then. It all depended on the severity.
Alfred stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. "Are you saying I can't sing?" Again, he was highly exaggerating, and one could tell by the slight twitches on the side of his mouth as he tried to keep the pout planted on his face. "He's made it pretty big at my place." The Shakira comment made Alfred's eyes go wide. "Wait...you mean she isn't Mexican?" He kept up the guise of being serious about this question for a moment or so, before letting a smile cross his features again. There were admittedly some things he didn't know, but he was aware that Shakira was not Mexican. He did, however, think that Enrique Iglesias was Mexican at first, until hearing otherwise. It took several years for him to figure it out too.
That part he would leave out.
Alfred made his way up to the door with Teresa, digging into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out his ID as well. He wasn't sure how strict the bouncers were, but he figured it was best to pull out the ID that claimed his age was 21. All of his IDs were 'fake', so to speak, considering he couldn't very well list his real age on any ID he was going to show to the public. The closest he'd come was his ID in the mid-90s, listing his birthdate as 7/4/76, and even then, it was assumed that the '76' stood for 1976. Even his 'true' birthdate of 7/4/1776 was an assumed birthdate, considering Alfred was around for nearly 200 years before that date as a colony.
The bouncer nodded, and Alfred grinned as Teresa pulled him in. He was happy to see Teresa in a better mood. The music was indeed different than what he was used to, but he didn't particularly mind. At least he could understand most of what was being said, even if it was in Spanish.
Alfred shrugged as Teresa explained her reasoning behind her dislike for the 20s. "Well, I enjoyed them." Understatement of the century. Alfred might have enjoyed the 1920s a little too much. Alfred did obey the laws of prohibition at first, but as soon as he entered his first speakeasy, he was hooked. He loved the rebellion, and the culture that evolved from it. He did have to admit that he wasn't a fan of the organized crime, but at the time it almost seemed like a necessary evil.
The blond arched a brow at Teresa's comment. "Are we talking along the lines of Gasolina here? Because when I found out what that was about..." He laughed a little at this point. Alfred might have known Spanish, but his knowledge of slang was limited. Needless to say, he took the lyrics literally at first. To his credit, though, he was able to catch on to what gringo meant fairly quickly. Then again, it wasn't hard to guess when Spanish speaking nations often directed the term toward him. Alfred tapped one of his feet to the beat of the music as he waited for Teresa's response.
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Oct 24, 2012 23:30:18 GMT -5 |
Post by Teresa "Mexico" Hidalgo on Oct 24, 2012 23:30:18 GMT -5
Sometimes, she wondered who ended up hurt the most. Sure, she ended up taking a lot of the cuts from the cartels, but so did Juan. In fact, a lot of the worst of the cartels belonged in his territory, but she still had Veracruz and had to deal with the Gulf cartel. And, for another thing, she needed to call him and ask how he was doing because the hit that had affected her earlier had been largely focused in Chihuahua. Teresa wondered if it didn’t affect the stupid Band-Aid he wore on his nose. Glancing again at Alfred, she wondered if, whenever the two of them met, it didn’t bug their American friend.
“I didn’t say that, Alfred.” She said quickly, diplomatically. Because, she hadn’t said it out loud. Of course, she had implied it. Because, honestly, hearing Alfred sing was one of the worst things. His country may have been known for having the best artists around, but Teresa would always think that it wasn’t her favorite of his…talents. “Same here; bet it makes Antonio really. really smug, don’t you think?” Not that Antonio really needed an excuse to be smug. He just generally tended to be so sometimes without even noticing it. The Mexican was always left wondering if he was really like that or just acting the part…kind of how she wondered about Alfred, except his always seemed a little more…genuine. “Augh! That’s not even funny.” She frowned, pushing him a little. “Don’t let her hear you say that, si? Or, better yet, do it in front of her. Tal vez ella me deje en paz ..”
So many different women around the world tended to dye their hair in an effort to retain the appearance of youth. She had seen it in her home, but she was always jealous. She kind of wished she would age. She didn’t care if it was by much – because, honestly, she didn’t want to seem too old. She was just tired of looking so young. Yes, she was considered an adult because, at the very least, she could pass for 18. But, tequila was always so hard to come by when she didn’t look older than that. Juan did and so she had gotten into the habit of sending him to the store while she made their dinner. Thinking of that, she had been meaning to invite Alfred and Matthew over sometime when she could manage to pull it off without seeming too lost to the war.
“Of course you did, Alfredo.” She laughed, shaking her head. Nah, the twenties were really just another war. Getting through the Revolution had been hard enough; she couldn’t really keep track of the amount of people left killed. It was awful, and she hated to think about it. No, she much more preferred the thirties, despite the World War that had broken out. She hadn’t really gotten control – hadn’t really gotten any time to really breathe with the Great Depression so soon after the war – until after Cárdenas had taken power. He was so…weird, especially to the two twins back then, but he kept them neutral until they were stable and productive. “I liked Cárdenas. Part of me wishes the bosses these days could be like him, y’know? Nationalizing the reserves and all but patear su empresa está fuera. Juan thought he was too wild; I thought he was a bit of a saint.”
“Whoa!” She said, shaking her head furiously with a pout. “That wasn’t me, either. That was Puerto Rico spitting Yankee out.” She wrinkled her nose, but Teresa had to agree with him. When she had first heard the song, she had been in the kitchen roasting some jalapeños. Her entire face had lit up brightly, but then she had laughed. She had laughed because it had become a pretty popular song that little kids were even humming along to it. “Dios mio, it’s not as if your songs are any better. Especially some of the crap that they’re throwing out these days.”
STARRING : Teresa&Alfred WORDS : 675 STATUS : incomplete(: NOTES : peeeeer pressure. LYRICS USED : USE SOMEBODY - KINGS OF LEON OUTFIT : here BANNER CREDIT : TANA
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Oct 25, 2012 12:24:20 GMT -5 |
Post by Alfred "America" F. Jones on Oct 25, 2012 12:24:20 GMT -5
[style=width: 420px; background: #121212; color: white; font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic; text-align: center; font-size: 48px; letter-spacing: -4px; line-height: 60px; padding-bottom: 4px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.8;]i've got two strong arms, i can help tag: Teresa // words: 754 // notes: Whoo! It worked! [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 150px; v-align: top; padding-bottom: 200px; height: 200px;] | [style=height: 400px; overflow: auto; font-family: verdana; line-height: 11px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 0px;]Alfred just shrugged, a small grin on his face as she countered his remark about his singing. Again, he didn’t much mind – He just wanted to see her in a happier mood, and the results so far were satisfactory.
“Probably does, knowing him.” In fact, Alfred was pretty sure he had heard Antonio bragging before. He was also pretty sure that Antonio’s bragging was how he learned that the singer in question was from Spain and not Mexico. Damn, they needed to get off of that subject before that little slip-up was revealed!
Alfred laughed at Teresa’s response to his joke. He couldn’t tell whether she was playing along or whether she seriously believed that he thought Shakira was Mexican, but either way, he found it amusing. “Yeah, that wasn’t in the plans. I may just do it now though, just to see how it goes.” The grin on his face widened.
He, too, had mixed opinions on aging. He enjoyed his nearly eternal youth. He was happy to be out of childhood, yet physically in his prime. There were times, though (especially when he had his glasses off) that he looked in the mirror and realized that he still looked a lot younger than most of the other countries. Most of them pinpointed their appearances in their 20s. Alfred, on the other hand, found that he rarely passed for older than nineteen when he asked people to guess how old he appeared. He didn’t want to grow old by any means, but having a physical age of twenty-one rather than nineteen would be an asset in more ways than one…
Alfred obviously had different experiences when it came to the 20s and 30s. The 20s had been a long party for him, for the most part! Not that there weren’t difficulties. The rise of organized crime was an undesirable result, but at the time, Alfred was too caught up in the lifestyle to give much care. On top of that, his government wasn’t doing much to stop matters.
…kind of like Teresa’s government currently. Fortunately, the parallels were lost on Alfred at this point.
On the other hand, while Teresa preferred the 30s, Alfred did not want to undergo another decade like that again. To be fair, it wasn’t as though the entire decade was a disaster. He was in varying states of illness during the whole thing, but he could still walk around and go about life most of the time. He just didn’t want to think of the rough patches, the few instances in the 30s where he was left bedridden and delirious with fever. The Great Depression hit him hard.
“30s weren’t all bad…I got to meet Frankie, at least. He’s up there with some of my favorite bosses.” He did have a list, and the majority of the presidents who ended up on Alfred’s list were amongst those frequently listed as some of the greatest presidents in U.S. history. Alfred started laughing as Teresa protested once more. “I never said it was! “ Well, he hadn’t! Just that it was in Spanish and he hadn’t known there were alternative slang meanings for the word – at the time at least. Now he was more than aware of it.
Her next words, however, caused him to frown. “Hey, they’re not all bad! There’s some good ones coming out even now!” That much being said… “I kinda prefer the older tunes most of the time though.” The young nation was a lot more nostalgic than most of the older nations though (and indeed, probably some of the younger nations as well). He liked living for the now, yes, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t reflect on past times. He especially enjoyed collecting pieces of his culture from various eras. He had eclectic tastes in music, and yes, did enjoy a lot of currently popular music. Still, the older music often brought back a rush of nostalgia, of the memories of the time, both good and bad, and it was something that was inescapable.
“So what are we gonna do here anyway? Are we just gonna stand around chatting or are we gonna dance?” Alfred bounced a little on his toes. He was starting to get antsy, as he was bound to whenever he had to sit or stand still for too long a period of time. Dancing would hopefully take care of some of that excess energy! He grabbed Teresa by the hand and started pulling her toward the dance floor.
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Nov 4, 2012 22:54:48 GMT -5 |
Post by Teresa "Mexico" Hidalgo on Nov 4, 2012 22:54:48 GMT -5
Ah, talking about Antonio always gave her feelings of nostalgia. She turned her head to the side in an effort to hide the small frown that had pulled at her mouth. She had been glad when he had left the meeting before she had. She had been ignoring his calls for the better part of two months. She knew that he was just concerned. That all he really wanted was to make sure that she was okay and to let her know that he would be find going to go see her if she needed him; fatherly things like that. Actually, she wasn’t entirely sure that that was what Antonio had on his mind. She didn’t want to find out, though, because that would just make her feel worse. All she could do was continue to remind herself the crimes which he had done against her, and she would be okay with pressing the ignore button or letting her phone ring so he could get the impression that she merely had not heard it or was busy doing something else.
“Do it, and make sure I’m there with a camera.” She giggled, raising an eyebrow. She wanted to be able to see that. God, the two of them argued with each other, but it wasn’t as if they hated each other. Not really…sure, they had their arguments, but Teresa’s current problems with the drugs reminded the Columbian of her own problems with the drugs. In a strange way, the Mexican looked up to her. “I would crack up.” And, she had a hard enough time not laughing herself. It scared her a little. How much she sounded like the humans which she interacted with daily; both in the office and out of it. She was a familiar face wherever she spent the year. She couldn’t ever stay in one village for too long, and she always had to be careful that no one took a picture of her. It might be weird to have to explain to someone forever into the future who she was merely because they had done enough digging and found her exact “copy” from a couple of years ago.
She was…picking herself up from sadness into an era of recovery (though…it was always questionable with so much internal demand that she didn’t know what to do. She remembered, in those first nights, staring at her constitutional mandate and wondering if she could still manage to find a way to promise equity between the social classes like she’d promised. Ah, but she had had help with President Gil and President Cardenas helping her. In terms of everything being okay, she wasn’t even…stable through the thirties. Yes, the Great Depression had hit her as it had hit everyone else, but, what with having a Revolution and fighting against Juan, it just didn’t seem like such a big thing for her to deal about. Not when she had land reforms to make. “I don’t know, amigo.” She frowned only for a brief second. “You also had Hoover…” And, well, it wasn’t a lie that Teresa hated Hoover. She was still upset, although she wouldn’t admit it to the blond, about the Repatriation. She would have been fine if they had given her back some citizens…if they had all been hers; if they hadn’t been targeted because of how closer her border had been; if they hadn’t been forced or pressured to return to what was once their homelands. Teresa had to admit that, on the rare nights where she did go out clubbing with her fellow Latin countries, she did often dance to the same songs that she had insulted. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have their own songs to listen to – because, they did! It was just that…as awful as they were and as much as they all cringed as they listened to the words, Alfred’s songs tended to be catchy. Even when they were making fun of girls or of other races (as the majority of them tended to do regardless of how offended anyone got), she laughed when she listened to them because they were funny. Besides, she enjoyed teasing the American about it later.
“Pfft. Especially your rap; they’re awful to listen to. Like, something is grating against my ears and destroying all sense of music.” But, she had to admit, she did what he did, too; except, she was much more frequent to watch old movies than she was to listen to old songs. “I watch movies, instead. The other day, I was watching something with Dolores Del Rio, and I almost started bawling when I realized she would never make another movie.” And, she sighed sadly. The actress had been the perfect representation of female Mexican beauty. Teresa even agreed to the standards that were set by her. “I was also thinking about Anthony Quinn. He was great. Do you remember ‘Lust for Life?’” She asked excitedly, glancing up at him with eyes sparking. “You and Mateo totally have to come over sometime to watch it again with me, okay? We can make it a North American thing.”
Teresa let herself get pulled into the crowd, giggling. She had been right. This would have been awkward. Her mouth twitched up into a grin as she shook her head, “Do you even know how to dance to this, Alfred?” It wasn’t hard for her to tease him as they met on the floor. She turned to face him and grabbed one of his hands and set it on her waist and set hers on his shoulder. She set her left hand on his shoulder, and grabbed his left hand with hers. “Do you know how to do a triplet?”
STARRING : Teresa&Alfred WORDS : 956 STATUS : incomplete(: NOTES : forever late...but really long? (: LYRICS USED : USE SOMEBODY - KINGS OF LEON OUTFIT : here BANNER CREDIT : TANA
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Nov 6, 2012 0:24:14 GMT -5 |
Post by Alfred "America" F. Jones on Nov 6, 2012 0:24:14 GMT -5
[style=width: 420px; background: #121212; color: white; font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic; text-align: center; font-size: 48px; letter-spacing: -4px; line-height: 60px; padding-bottom: 4px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.8;]i've got two strong arms, i can help tag: Teresa // words: 757 // notes: Went into a bit of headcanon in this one. XD [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 150px; v-align: top; padding-bottom: 200px; height: 200px;] | [style=height: 400px; overflow: auto; font-family: verdana; line-height: 11px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 0px;] "Camera? Of course there will be a camera! Can't do something like that without a camera to record it for posterity!"
A camera he would keep out of view of the public eye. Alfred, too, understood the importance of making sure that he didn't show up in too many pictures. Pictures of him did exist, but Alfred made sure that he held on tight to most of them. One photo album in particular that he kept under lock and key was the presidential photo album. Said photo album consisted of at least one picture of him with every of one of his presidents since photography was invented. Alfred considered the photo album to be one of his most important possessions, but it wasn't something that he wanted to fall into the wrong hands. He'd have his hands full explaining to a regular civilian why there were pictures of him that could be dated to 150 years before.
Alfred bounced around often. He had homes all over the country, some temporary and some permanent. His only truly permanent home was one located on the east coast, in close proximity to Washington D.C. It was in a secluded area, far away from any nosy neighbors who might eventually notice that the young man who entered and left the premises every day wasn't aging. This was the home he usually spent the holidays around, and the home that he usually invited the other nations to. Other than that, he did a lot of bouncing around, depending on where he was needed and where he wanted to spend his time. He'd lived in all fifty of his states at some point.
The taller nation frowned. "Ah yeah, Herbie..." There wasn't a president that Alfred had as of yet that he truly hated. He tried to keep up a somewhat decent rapport with all of his bosses, but regardless, some of his bosses left better marks than others. Most of his favorite bosses, the ones he cherished the memory of the most, were simultaneously found on lists of the great presidents. Herbert Hoover...well, Alfred didn't hate the guy, not in the least, but even he had to admit that Hoover's policies hadn't helped him to feel better during the earlier days of the Great Depression.
Alfred couldn't help but smile when Teresa mentioned Dolores del Rio. She was an actress that Alfred and Teresa shared, having found her start in his films and continued success in Teresa's. Next came Anthony Quinn, another star they'd shared. He remembered the legendary movies on their resumes, and could recall the movies when they first came out, recall the actors and actresses when they were still in their prime. "I do," he provided his response to her question, the smile on his face growing in size. It was rare that he had a chance to discuss the legends like this, and he usually found himself on the subject with his states, not another nation. It was refreshing.
"I know they weren't yours, but I watch a lot of Gene Kelly and Marilyn Monroe." He, too, watched a lot of old movies, and Gene Kelly and Marilyn Monroe were amongst his favorites. "And Disney," he added, a small smile coming across his face. He'd always loved Disney movies. It said something, to him, that those alive today could still find the same enjoyment out of Disney movies that came out nearly a century before as people did when the films first came out. Many of the movies of this bygone era were timeless treasures (and not just Disney). Perhaps this was why Alfred was so attached to them even now.
The corners of Alfred's mouth turned up into a full-fledged grin. "I'm in! I'll text Mattie to let him know! Later, though. Right now, we have some dancing to do!"
When Resa inquired as to whether Alfred knew how to dance to this music or not, Alfred gave a light shrug. "No, but I figure it can't be too hard. Worse comes to worse I'll just burst out into swing." He laughed, not actually being serious, although he was quite partial to swing dancing, to the point where it was his favorite genre of dance.
He allowed himself to be guided into position by Teresa. He blinked in confusion at Teresa's next question. "Nu-uh. How do you do a triplet?"
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Nov 8, 2012 23:48:19 GMT -5 |
Post by Teresa "Mexico" Hidalgo on Nov 8, 2012 23:48:19 GMT -5
Well, they could. There used to be a time where everything that they did was in the name of simply doing it. There was a time, she remembered, where they didn’t need a camera to do anything. Those were the days; the days where she rode horses with a snicker on her face, unwilling to let anything happen to her banditos as they faced the ignorant Americans trespassing on land not yet theirs. Days where she was feared not only for her brute strength in fighting – not like it was hard, having been a nation always did give her an advantage of being stronger – but also the skilled way in which she went about it. She fought like the old savages long been forced into some sort of system, but she couldn’t forget her way. Teresa was still sure if they put her to the test, she could still fight like any noble fighter. Aztec and Maya had both taught her many things; not just math, the stars, and the art of human sacrifice. “I’d show it at the reunions, y’know? Everyone would get a kick out of it.”
Gah, she generally hated when everyone gathered. It was a bitter reminder to some of them the parents which they lost. (Like, Peru with Inca, both she and Guatemala shared Maya, and then she and Juan would lament over the loss of Aztec. She was sentimental, too. She grew overly fond of the people she worked with. She had to remind herself that the kind secretary – Maria – that had worked as a secretary since she was nineteen was older physically than she was. She could no longer go out and hang out around the places that Teresa liked to frequent. Most people assumed that Maria was her grandmother – never knowing the truth. Never knowing that the younger Mexican had been alive the age span of ten of Maria’s lifetimes. The two of them often discussed things that had happened in both their lifetimes, and Maria had always been there to ward away the one thing Teresa feared the most; the stupid ghost that haunted her all the time, La Llorona.
Like, she understood that the ghost was still bitter. Teresa often wished that the woman hadn’t drowned her children. It wasn’t her fault that Death had cursed her. She understood where her best friend was coming from, but why couldn’t Death have made her haunt somewhere else that was far away from her? “I hated you, then.” She hummed slightly. “I remember praying in the church a lot then, wondering what was going on through your mind.” And, she remembered cursing the American just as much as she wondered what was going on through his mind. A lot of her people weren’t particularly happy about it, either, but she had had more pressing matters to attend to. She was on an incline, and their unhappiness was putting a serious damper on her mood. “Wait, you nickname your jefes?”
Ah, these were the people that had been her friends. This was back where Teresa had been too young to care about whether or not she blew their secret, still. She enjoyed having all the fun; time spend with Frida and Diego Rivera, too. The paintings that she had painted under them still hung in her house a little outside of Zacatecas. That wasn’t where they had lived, but that was one of her more remote houses and she didn’t want anyone to be able to find them. There was also music she had composed; movie scripts she had written and never turned in. For a time, she had even kept a diary. Now, her life was filled with moments she wasn’t allowed to live. If pictures were around then, she was sure she would have taken the momentums and keep them close to her heart. Her mouth twitched upwards, and she laughed, nodding her head.
“No, they were never mine.” She agreed, shaking her head. Sure, Kelly and Monroe were important to Alfred, and they had had some success in Mexico, but she had never revered them as icons. Not like she had done with Dolores and the rest of them. To her, they were every bit as much as her children as the states and the cities were. She loved them and cried for days when they died. “Disney, though, I do watch those. Except, sabes, the ones that are translated into Spanish.” Teresa giggled. She had every single one of them not only on tapes, but also in their DVDs. The originals in black and white and the newly revamped ones with colors; “I do have to say that I am tired of your Hollywood making and remaking all the old classics. They ruin it, no?” She raised an eyebrow, letting him know that she was merely teasing.
“ “Or, I can call him.” She assured him, mouth twitching upwards. “I feel like I haven’t seen him in forever, which is dumb because I saw him at the meeting, verdad?” She was avoiding the Canadian, though, for fear that he would see right through her in ways that Alfred didn’t really want to. “It’s not that hard, I promise. And, no, no swing. I was never as good at it as you were.” Besides, Teresa had always somewhat feared falling on the moves where both her feet weren’t on the ground. But, she was going to have fun. “All you have to do is remember that the steps are three movements. I suppose it’s kind of like…like a vals. A waltz?” The word was weird on her mouth, but it made sense. “Except, a lot faster.”
STARRING : Teresa&Alfred WORDS : 946 STATUS : incomplete(: NOTES : whoo! faster than last time. XD LYRICS USED : USE SOMEBODY - KINGS OF LEON OUTFIT : here BANNER CREDIT : TANA
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Nov 11, 2012 0:24:13 GMT -5 |
Post by Alfred "America" F. Jones on Nov 11, 2012 0:24:13 GMT -5
[style=width: 420px; background: #121212; color: white; font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic; text-align: center; font-size: 48px; letter-spacing: -4px; line-height: 60px; padding-bottom: 4px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.8;]i've got two strong arms, i can help tag: Teresa // words: 704 // notes: Didn't notice you posted until yesterday...oops! [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 150px; v-align: top; padding-bottom: 200px; height: 200px;] | [style=height: 400px; overflow: auto; font-family: verdana; line-height: 11px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 0px;] Alfred grinned. "That's the spirit!"
The blond, too, had been mistaken for a relative on more than one occasion. He'd lost count of how many times he was introduced as a nephew or cousin if he was seen wandering somewhere a man of his physical appearance wasn't expected to be. Rarely were the terms son or grandson used, however, and Alfred was grateful for that. Just as the only president he'd ventured to call 'dad' was George Washington, he was in turn the only president Alfred would have allowed to call him son or grandson. He was also the only boss Alfred refused to give a goofy pet name.
Alfred let out a laugh at the incredulous factor in Teresa's voice. "You don't nickname your bosses? It's fun watching them react when you first test out a nickname." He grinned, clearly recalling said faces in his mind's eye. "Some were easier than others to nickname. Both John Adams and John Quincy Adams were Johnny. Thomas Jefferson was Tommy. Herbert Hoover was Herbie, and FDR was Frankie." Generally, the nicknames Alfred gave included a 'y' or 'ie' sound at the end of a president's name, if it was possible. Oddly enough, this method worked with almost every president that Alfred nicknamed. There were some exceptions of course - He, like many of his citizens, referred to Eisenhower as Ike rather than 'Dwighty' (because Dwighty just sounded weird, if you asked him). He also referred to JFK as Jack rather than Johnny, as he had with other Johns in the past.
Like Teresa, Alfred was fully stocked on Disney movies, both the originals and the new ones. He shot a mock offended look at Teresa's comments about remakes before smiling, knowing that she was teasing him. That was generally how thing went between them nowadays, though matters weren't always this easygoing. "Some of the remakes are good, some are bad. You just have to find the good ones." Alfred stated. Generally, adding color to a black and white production didn't ruin it, although Alfred preferred to keep the black and white portion on hand. This was more of a sentimental gesture than anything else. Both the black and white and color versions were essentially the same movie, but Alfred would always remembering watching some of the earliest features in black and white, and those memories were especially bright when he watched some of his favorite features on a black and white film reel. It was a rare treat, but one that he enjoyed. With that in mind, of course he wanted them in their original glory as well as the newer versions! Though he enjoyed the newer versions as well, of course. He'd made a game of rewatching the old black and white versions of films just before watching the remakes in color, trying to guess what colors would be used in the remake. Sometimes he was right, sometimes he was way off, but it made for a fun activity nonetheless!
"I'll shoot him a text, but you can call him too if you want!" At this point, Alfred already had his phone out, partially finished with his text for the northern nation. When he finished, he placed his phone back in his pocket and turned his attention back to Resa.
"Three movements. That makes sense, triplet and all." It was easy enough to remember. He also knew what a waltz was, although he was pleased to learn that that this 'triplet' would be faster than a waltz. He didn't really think that the music playing over the speakers was suitable for a slow waltz, hence why he suggested swing in the first place. "Kay, I'm sure I'll figure it out with a little practice!" At least he hoped he would. He didn't much like when he didn't succeed at something he tried (though it did happen...he wasn't perfect). He supposed he was ready to give it a shot, as he waited for Teresa to lead them. She was the one who knew the dance, after all. Otherwise, he would have started into it straight away!
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Nov 14, 2012 22:33:58 GMT -5 |
Post by Teresa "Mexico" Hidalgo on Nov 14, 2012 22:33:58 GMT -5
Well, Teresa couldn’t argue with him; the aches that had previously felt as if they were all over her felt non-existent now. Every time she spent any meaningful time with Alfred, the results were always the same. She felt better about herself even if he hadn’t really done anything. She supposed that he just got her mind off of the topics that seemed to plague her. “Does Arturo ever take you on…no se, a family thing?” She mused loudly, not really asking him. She always found it weird when she would lapse into Spanish and still manage to call Antonio, “Papa España”. She hoped it was still a thing with those farther south, but she hadn’t ever asked them (it was still a touchy subject, and it might have been for Alfred, too, but her mouth had gotten the best of her.)
Her face flushed slightly, and she shook her head. Sure, there were the presidents that she loved (and had to remind herself not to love, on some occasions). But, she had never nicknamed them. She preferred to call them by their first names, even though some of them overlapped. Her mouth twitched upwards and she laughed, shaking her head at him. “I suppose some of them. Pero, then I become attached.” Her nose wrinkled, but she kept the smile on her face. “I mean, there was Ben.” She tried, unsure. “There wasn’t many whom I loved more than Ben. Como, remember how much you loved Lincoln? Benito was my Lincoln. I liked Tonio, too, even though he lost me mis niños, y ah. There was Maxi, tambien, even though I didn’t appreciate having Francis. Emil was always once of Juan’s favorite, pero that’s not something I called him.” She trailed herself off, humming. She laughed, giggling and shaking her head. “I guess I was wrong then, eh? I nickname some of them; mis favoritos.”
She befriended most of them. They had been her friends, and she had attended every single one of their funerals. She was always away from everyone else; in a black dress and never alone. If Juan was not beside her, someone else was. Her heart broke whenever they did, and she could only lament when those that she loved passed away. “It’s always weird to think about how much older I am than them; than their memory. I feel like an old woman, no? Missing them and wondering why we can’t go back to those simple days, eh?” Yes, the movies back then were not as fantastic as they would be today, but there was something to say about the way they had drawn her in. “Ah; you’ll have to show me the good ones then, won’t you?” Because, admittedly, Alfred knew a lot more about movies than she ever did. Sure, she made movies before. Her films had earned recognition, and it was a fun habit for her to dabble in whenever she was bored, but she wasn’t Alfred. Mexico wasn’t (as she was almost always painfully reminded) America. There were just some things that the Teresa couldn’t do in comparison to what Alfred created, and movies were some of them. His movies were always better than hers – and, she even argued on his behalf on some occasions when arguments such as those were out in public.
She sighed, but nodded her head. “Will you make me a promise though, héroe?” She asked suddenly, because she realized that she hadn’t made him make the promise she had made others swear on their lives about. Because, even though it had become unavoidable that Alfred realize her condition, she still hadn’t really managed to talk about it with Matthew. And, honestly, she didn’t really want to be able to talk to him. It was a topic that was going to be leave her scarred. Yes, Teresa understood that it would probably be necessary for her to talk to him. It was vital for the success of their relationship. “Don’t tell him about the episode, okay?” Her mouth twitched. Her face was absolutely calm, and she was very insistent. “I want him to think I’m doing better, and I am.” She leaned forward, slightly. “I am doing better, Alfred. It’s just…there are these small episodes that will…asustar him.”
“Vamos?” She grinned, gripping onto his hand and his shoulder. She took a step back, urging him to take a step forward. “Three movements, si? You can do it in any direction that you and your partner want to go in.” Teresa lectured, pleased to finally know something that Alfred didn’t know. (Although, she couldn’t be too comfortable in that knowledge considering that the dance wasn’t as known to Alfred as it was to her.) “One back, one left, one forward for me, one forward, one right, one backwards for you. Pero, you have to do it rapido.”
STARRING : Teresa&Alfred WORDS : 810 STATUS : open NOTES : o.o I didn't notice the nicknames until later. XD LYRICS USED : USE SOMEBODY - KINGS OF LEON OUTFIT : here BANNER CREDIT : TANA
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Nov 18, 2012 0:24:15 GMT -5 |
Post by Alfred "America" F. Jones on Nov 18, 2012 0:24:15 GMT -5
[style=width: 420px; background: #121212; color: white; font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic; text-align: center; font-size: 48px; letter-spacing: -4px; line-height: 60px; padding-bottom: 4px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.8;]i've got two strong arms, i can help tag: Teresa // words: 743 // notes: Well you noticed them eventually? XD [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 150px; v-align: top; padding-bottom: 200px; height: 200px;] | [style=height: 400px; overflow: auto; font-family: verdana; line-height: 11px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 0px;] The next question Teresa posed caught Alfred off guard, and caused him to tense a bit. Mentioning 'Arthur' and 'family' in the same sentence was a surefire way to give Alfred a jolt to his mood. To say that the relationship between Arthur and Alfred was dysfunctional was to put it lightly. Instead of admitting how much of a jarring Teresa's question gave him, Alfred opted to laugh it off. Or, at least, attempt to. "You realize what you're asking, right?" He let out a few chuckles. She had to realize what a loaded question she was asking!
He wouldn't change what happened in a million years. He was happy to have his independence, he was happy to have his chance to blossom as his own nation. He had his regrets, just like anyone else, but his independence was not one of them. That said, he did regret just how tattered his relationship with his 'older brother' had become as a result. Why couldn't he have just accepted that Alfred wanted to go it on his own? Why did it have to end the way that it had?
An outsider would easily understand. An outsider could easily see that both nations were incredibly stubborn, and that neither would have conceded their points back then. Hell, neither of them would concede their points now. Alfred would never admit that he still thought of Arthur as something of an older brother, albeit an estranged one he'd likely never make up with. The older nation raised him for over a century. It was hard to ignore, deep down, the impact that had on him, even if he did play it off most of the time. He was pretty good at that.
Alfred grinned fondly as the subject returned back to bosses, especially when Teresa spoke in the same fashion of a few of her bosses, then admitted that she nicknamed a few as well. "See?" What was different about Alfred was that the one boss he did not nickname was the one who resonated the most in his memory.
He, too, attended every funeral. Sometimes, it was hard, if he was in the midst of a war or something else that was eating up his time, but he always made time. He bit on his lip as Teresa voiced something that always went through his mind when he attended the funeral of a boss. He knew most personifications felt the same way, but it felt nice to hear it so candidly from another. "I get that too." He admitted, in an abnormally quiet voice for him. "Some of them hit me worse than others, especially those that went before their time." Other than the Founding Fathers, Alfred found that presidents who fell due to assassinations hit the worst. FDR was one notable exception to this, but he was also president for longer than the rest. Surely that had an impact.
"Will do! We can do that on our movie night." Alfred's voice was back to it's regular volume (that is to say, loud). Then all of a sudden Teresa was asking him to promise something, leaving him somewhat bewildered. Where had that come from? "Sure thing! What do you need, Resa?"
Alfred smiled as he heard the request, and he held up his hand. "You have my word. Scout's honor." He chuckled a little as he let his hand fall back to his side. He wanted to believe that Teresa was doing better, but her vehement insistence was having the opposite effect of the one that she intended. If she really was doing better, why did she have to insist on it to the point where she sounded as though she was trying to convince herself as much as trying to convince him?
Following the other nation's lead, Alfred took a step forward, then started to follow her instructions. Though he was a bit shaky at first, he wasn't new to dancing in the least. He started to get the hang of it quickly, although he still was prone to make a few mistakes. On one such occasion, he took a step forward instead of a step backward as he intended to, and very nearly ended up stepping on Teresa's toe. "My bad. I'll get the hang of this soon." Still, it wasn't swing, which meant it might take a little more work.
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Dec 10, 2012 23:57:31 GMT -5 |
Post by Teresa "Mexico" Hidalgo on Dec 10, 2012 23:57:31 GMT -5
“Si, I do.” She answered honestly, because she did. Teresa wasn’t afraid to push Alfred, not really. She hadn’t been afraid to ask him those types of questions in a long time. They had gotten married, so long ago, and then divorced. The notion of it all always left her…wondering. Wondering about, if they had had any sort of romantic inclination between the two of them, if they couldn’t have managed to create something great. Except, except that Alfred was like her brother, so much more than Cuba, and she was really close to Cuba. He was like Juan, except…different. Different in the sort of way that made her want to take care of him, but not the point of dying for him. (Because, as much as she loved Alfred and Matthew, they weren’t…her family. She had never been responsible for them, and so the feeling was different.)
That was why, she felt, that she felt free to ask him any sort of question. It could get awkward, she would admit that, but she really wanted to know. The dynamic between her and Spain – and, really, ex-colony of his if you squinted enough – was…odd. Sure, there was hatred between them, but there was also love. “It’s just…it’s weird. España raised me for so long, and I hate him for everything that he put me through, pero al mismo tiempo…he helped me become who I am today, sabes?” She wrinkled her nose and leaned her head forward. “Well, not exactly who I am today. You helped. Pero, I don’t think we would really talk as much if it weren’t for España.”
He had taught her how to read, how to write, how to abandon her – admittedly – savage religion in favor for the one she currently had. Sure, it changed her views about a lot of things, but Teresa changed more and more every day. Her views were different than a lot of people gave her credit for. Yes, she had the tendency to be drunk all of the time. It happened. But, they also forgot that, for the longest time, she was the equivalent of a mother. She knew what it was like to raise people and to make them feel better. Teresa recognized when things were bugging people, and when it had been her fault. “Oye, I’m sorry. I forget that you two are who you are.” Her smile twitched upwards, and it was teasing. “Inglaterra raised you for how long? You’re so…stubborn. España had me, if you start when Tenochtitlan finally fell, for three centuries. He had Cuba longer.”
“Si, pero Ben was different, Alfred.” She nodded her head, slowly and looking away briefly. She didn’t really like to go into detail about Benito Juarez. She had been at his wedding. She had loved him, but not enough to keep him from his happiness. As he got older, she recognized that they wouldn’t always be able to be together. He would age and die, and she would remain young until she was stripped of her power of being a country. “I think it’s a right; a passage that every country has to go through. Loving one…citizen…” She laughed and nodded her head, knowing where she was going through. She had loved Maxi, but she had loved Benito more. Sure, she had been upset when the ‘emperor’ had gotten killed, but she couldn’t control the butterflies that had appeared in her stomach whenever she had seen him. When he had died of a heart attack, she had cried herself silly for days and drank to the point where she was legitimately intoxicated. She had had a hangover that lasted for days afterwards. There were still sometimes where she visited his grave and sat there, leaning against it and telling him everything that had happened. Teresa wasn’t sure if Alfred had ever done that – or, really, any country, but it made her feel better about having lost someone she had really loved. “I try to think about the happy times we went through.”
Teresa winced every time he nearly stepped on her foot. She remembered the early days of trying to learn these complicated songs. She was almost always stepped on by her partners. Alfred was much better at avoiding those types of mistakes, but she still winced every time he got close to it. She knew how strong her friend was – knew how heavy and how painful it would be for him to step on her. Still, she smiled cheerfully and waved him off. Pain wasn’t anything new to her. “I know you will. You’re a fast learner, Alfredo…unless you count Spanish. Then, you just suck.”
STARRING : Teresa&Alfred WORDS : 776 STATUS : open NOTES : jesus, i popped out 3 posts today. @.@ that's all i can manage. LYRICS USED : USE SOMEBODY - KINGS OF LEON OUTFIT : here BANNER CREDIT : TANA
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Dec 12, 2012 0:24:26 GMT -5 |
Post by Alfred "America" F. Jones on Dec 12, 2012 0:24:26 GMT -5
[style=width: 420px; background: #121212; color: white; font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic; text-align: center; font-size: 48px; letter-spacing: -4px; line-height: 60px; padding-bottom: 4px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.8;]i've got two strong arms, i can help tag: Teresa // words: 628 // notes: Well you noticed them eventually? XD [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 150px; v-align: top; padding-bottom: 200px; height: 200px;] | [style=height: 400px; overflow: auto; font-family: verdana; line-height: 11px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 0px;] Family. For all that Alfred claimed, he still considered Arthur to be family. There was no denying that the other nation played a role in Alfred's life as a colony. He was frequently absent, yet his influence was still there. It would be impossible for it not to be.
The way that Teresa described Antonio was much like he would describe Arthur, if he ever discussed the matter with anyone. There were still so many mixed feelings there. Arthur might not have been the best caretaker, but he did make sure that Alfred was provided for. "A little more than a century and a half," Alfred admitted when Teresa asked him how long Arthur raised him. He'd first met Arthur at Jamestown, when the older nation 'adopted' him, so to speak. This lasted, of course, until 1776, when Alfred's independence became official.
Alfred let out a laugh when Teresa referred to him as stubborn. "Hard not to be around him." Both of them had major stubborn streaks, especially when it came to this subject. If one of them were willing to budge, it was likely that the dysfunction between Alfred and Arthur wouldn't be so pronounced.
The blond didn't understand what Teresa meant by different until she explained in further detail. "Oh!" He murmured, suddenly getting what she meant. "I never felt like that about any of my bosses. I thought of some like friends, or like brothers," or in the case of Washington a father, "but I never thought of my bosses that way." He did know where she was coming from, however. "There was this girl though. I met her just before the Revolution. Her name was Sarah," even now, Alfred said the name with a certain fondness. He'd long since recovered, but that didn't mean that she didn't still hold a place in his memory as the first girl he'd ever entered into a relationship with.
She was also his first heartbreak. "Her father was involved with the Sons of Liberty. I met her just after the Boston Tea Party, though of course it wasn't called that at the time. We eventually went our separate ways when I went off to fight in the war. We said we'd keep sending letters, but..." Alfred knew it didn't end up that way. Alfred was too caught up in the cause, the fight for his freedom, and Sarah had grown tired of waiting. By the time Alfred returned, she was married to another man and had children. Alfred knew that Washington's words were true - It never would have worked out between Alfred and Sarah anyway, given what Alfred was - but that didn't make it hurt any less at the time.
He could not help but make the friendly and familial relationships with his citizens that he did. He enjoyed those, regardless of the fact that he would outlive every single one of them eventually. But ever since Sarah, outright romance with his citizens was off limits. Pledging one's life to someone, as humans often did with their marriages, was hard to do when one party was guaranteed to outlive the other by centuries.
Alfred grinned when Teresa waved off his apology and complimented him. The grin faded a little as she proceeded to throw a jibe at him, though he had a quick retort waiting. "My Spanish does NOT suck," he threw in an exaggerated pout for effect. Really, his understanding of the words was not all that terrible. He could carry on a basic conversation just fine, only flubbing up on a few of the harder words and slang. His pronunciation just left a lot to be desired.
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