(no subject)
Blame Heat. I apologize for not knowing Hetalia at all.
TERRITORY
All in all, America thought he'd gotten through the end of the world as they'd known it well enough. He was bruised and sunburned and thinner than he liked to think about, but he was surviving. Sure, maybe he'd fallen from power a little bit since the sun had gone black, but they all had - he was still a superpower! The creeping numbness in his left foot was almost certainly nothing to worry about, and as long as he ignored the haunted looks from the other countries and the Karma Society's Asuras on the streets, he could almost pretend that everything was normal. It was a bad patch, but they'd all be absolutely fine. God had blessed America, right?
But the new stranger on his streets was annoying. He swaggered around like someone who was used to having territory even though none of them had ever heard of him before, and he was just... weird.
Embryon stretched and flashed America a happy, genuine grin with teeth that were a little too sharp. "I really appreciate you letting me stay like this," he said. "You're a good host. Even with all the shootings." He had pale skin, orange hair a shade too bright to be natural, and some kind of military uniform with an orange splash vivid as a flag across his chest and shoulders. America wasn't sure he trusted him. He thought he might be a suspicious character.
"Sure," he told the other... country? Nation-state? "Not much else I could do, with you turning up all lost like that. I've gotta wonder where your territory is, though. Who are you?"
Embryon waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, we have plenty of territory. I'm the king of the Junkyard, even if it got destroyed." He smiled again. "I guess you could say that people are all the territory I need now."
America wasn't sure he liked that, especially since he was pretty certain at least one of his citizens had already emigrated. Emigrated to this new guy. That'd never happened to someone who was still standing on his soil before. The Karma Society was after anyone associated with this punk, and he was queasily sure that they might be his bosses these days. It might be better to give Embryon an early hint that they weren't really friends.
"Well, I hope you don't die out here, since everything around here is mine! Might want to find a place where the pickings aren't so lean, God willing, eh?" He gave Embryon a cordial slap on the shoulder. The other nation-state flinched and turned on his hand with a snarl that he got under control before it had really formed on his face, and tried to transform it to a smile instead. It didn't work.
"Don't worry about that," Embryon breathed. "If that's what it comes to, my comrades'll eat God for breakfast."
Staring at the strange light in his eyes, America wasn't sure he disbelieved him.
TERRITORY
All in all, America thought he'd gotten through the end of the world as they'd known it well enough. He was bruised and sunburned and thinner than he liked to think about, but he was surviving. Sure, maybe he'd fallen from power a little bit since the sun had gone black, but they all had - he was still a superpower! The creeping numbness in his left foot was almost certainly nothing to worry about, and as long as he ignored the haunted looks from the other countries and the Karma Society's Asuras on the streets, he could almost pretend that everything was normal. It was a bad patch, but they'd all be absolutely fine. God had blessed America, right?
But the new stranger on his streets was annoying. He swaggered around like someone who was used to having territory even though none of them had ever heard of him before, and he was just... weird.
Embryon stretched and flashed America a happy, genuine grin with teeth that were a little too sharp. "I really appreciate you letting me stay like this," he said. "You're a good host. Even with all the shootings." He had pale skin, orange hair a shade too bright to be natural, and some kind of military uniform with an orange splash vivid as a flag across his chest and shoulders. America wasn't sure he trusted him. He thought he might be a suspicious character.
"Sure," he told the other... country? Nation-state? "Not much else I could do, with you turning up all lost like that. I've gotta wonder where your territory is, though. Who are you?"
Embryon waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, we have plenty of territory. I'm the king of the Junkyard, even if it got destroyed." He smiled again. "I guess you could say that people are all the territory I need now."
America wasn't sure he liked that, especially since he was pretty certain at least one of his citizens had already emigrated. Emigrated to this new guy. That'd never happened to someone who was still standing on his soil before. The Karma Society was after anyone associated with this punk, and he was queasily sure that they might be his bosses these days. It might be better to give Embryon an early hint that they weren't really friends.
"Well, I hope you don't die out here, since everything around here is mine! Might want to find a place where the pickings aren't so lean, God willing, eh?" He gave Embryon a cordial slap on the shoulder. The other nation-state flinched and turned on his hand with a snarl that he got under control before it had really formed on his face, and tried to transform it to a smile instead. It didn't work.
"Don't worry about that," Embryon breathed. "If that's what it comes to, my comrades'll eat God for breakfast."
Staring at the strange light in his eyes, America wasn't sure he disbelieved him.