thirty-eight ★ i am so sorry there is something wrong with me
Title: the oddly serious fic of many more to come
Pairings/Characters: England + Australia.
Summary: She's just a bundle of troubles.
Rating: PG
Notes: Set in their first year of colonisation, so hello, ~unstable relations~. ... This thing is so short and my end-notes are getting longer, what is this.
---
She'd run away again.
It was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth, keeping her.
Not that England didn't understand why she kept running - the abuse of those they had found living on the land always sent her into a fit of anger - but he couldn't help it if the natives wouldn't work as they were told, wouldn't give up their nonsensical beliefs in favour of accepting the Lord, and wouldn't relinquish their useless artefacts.They could learn, he'd seen that much, but they just weren't willing; they were too stubborn just to give up their language, even though the order had been issued time and time again.
To be honest, though, it was her and her empty land that he was more interested in for the time being.
He knew where to find her, at least; she fled to the same place every time she saw the savages she claimed to be "her people" being treated with force or with disrespect. He wasn't sure that it could really be called 'hiding' if she always chose the same spot to run to, but he wasn't about to complain.
It was just a royal pain in the ass to get there.
Some high caves a way away from where they'd decided to settle that he saw no significance in, and he didn't care much to think about - the only important thing he could see about them was that his colony was hiding away inside, and he had to drag her out. Again.
He sighed and trudged on in.
It only took a minute of wandering and searching through the dark caves to find her, sitting by one of the bizarre rock formations with her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes on the ground. England frowned down at her.
"Let's go," he said shortly. She didn't look up at him, muttered something in the natives' language that he couldn't understand, and he grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly to her feet. "English."
"... Why do you hurt them?" she asked, and for a moment, he revelled in the sound; her British accent was proper and clear, and despite that she frowned as though the words were foreign on her tongue, she spoke it so fluently and flawlessly that she may as well have been a high-class London-born lady.
Unfortunately, then what she had actually said had to sink in.
"They wouldn't have to be hurt if they did as they were told," he said sadly, despite his attempts to sound entirely detached.
"What they are told to do hurts them," she snapped, suddenly fierce, and pulled her arm from his slackened grasp. "Give up the Dreamtime? Stop our ceremonies to the gods and the lands and the animals?" She tried to scoff and turn her nose up, to imitate him, but it ended up as a huff and a pout. "The Rainbow Snake will eat you," she muttered, petulant.
England scowled. "Mind your tone--"
"Fuck you," she spat, and sat back down, hunched over and avoiding his eye.
"Young lady, you watch your mouth! Where have you been learning language that bloody foul?! I certainly don't use it around you!"
"Your Englishmen," she said, venom suddenly gone and instead replaced by a sort of subdued quietness; almost a peace, or something similarly passive. "The other children are picking up on it too. Parents are not happy, to hear such strange, harsh words from another language that doesn't belong to this land."
He sighed heavily and, after an awkward moment of silence between them, took a seat on the ground beside her. "Do you know what it means?"
"No."
"Good. Don't use crude language like that."
"Alright." She shifted, frowning at the uncomfortable material of her tunic, and looked up at him, head resting on her knees once again. "... This place is Binoomea," she told him, speaking slowly and a little hesitantly. "It's sacred - the spirits of the land carved it out, and we use it to heal the ill and the wounded." He met her eye, confused, and she explained, "The water, down in the lower caves."
He hummed. If it was sacred, then no wonder the natives had been so outraged at him following the child in, after the first time she had tried to run from him. "What does the word mean?"
"Dark places."
He had to stifle a laugh at that, because they certainly were literal with their naming; most of the time, something was titled for its discoverer, or in the name of a Kingdom, and it tended to sound much better - but, then again, he supposed that they didn't think of people as particularly important in comparison to the land itself, which was an oddity if he had ever known one.
She didn't seem to notice his muffled chuckle, and gave a tiny sigh. "My people are upset."
England looked over to her. "... You know," he said thoughtfully, leaning back on his hands, "those Englishmen are your people too."
She turned to him, startled. "They are?"
He nodded. "Well, of course. Look at yourself; you look an awful lot more like us than one of those 'natives' of yours, don't you?" Australia frowned and hugged her knees tighter, cutting her gaze away again. "They live here, too; the crew of the ship, the convicts, the farmers, the wives. And aren't you a British colony?"
Her eyebrows drew together, and she was clearly conflicted. "But, then - I belong to the land, but whose country am I?"
"No-one's," he answered her without hesitation, not meeting the offended look she shot at him. "You are the land of Terra Australis, and you are my colony. That's enough." He placed his hand on her head and left it for a moment, comforting, before tousling her hair with mock-nonchalance.
And just as England had been hoping, the gesture was enough to make her grin widely, lively again, to bat at his hands with frantic, playful shrieking every time he dodged her grabs for him, and he hardly even realised he was laughing as she tried in vain to clambour up and ruffle his hair in retaliation for his attack.
And she may have been a bundle of trouble, but he kept her anyway.
Notes:
- When England first found her (which I will... write later, too), Australia would have been quite peaceful - the native tribes were a generally peaceful people, and she spent her time before colonisation as a Dreamtime spirit of the land. Her aggression and immaturity is actually inherited from the English colonisers and the convicts shipped over.
- This is the incident that set off her identity crisis. After this, she was constantly torn between whether the English were her people, or whether the Aborigines were, and it took an awful long time for her to come to the conclusion that her people didn't have to all be the same race.
- Her identity crisis would have been dreadful up until the time that the country was given its name, because she wouldn't have even had a race to go by; she was called the "land belonging to no-one", and her natives didn't even have an all-over name, so you can kind of imagine how confused the poor girl would have been.
- Binoomea is now known as the Jenolan Caves, and is a popular tourist site because of its incredible rock formations and various different caves.
- The Europeans didn't actually become involved in the Jenolan Caves until 1838 when its discovery was first recorded, but ex-convict and possible outlaw James McKeown was said to have been using the caves as a hideout sometime before then.
- There are still an unknown number of caves; many remain undiscovered to date.
- The natives to the area could find their way down to subterranean water in the caves, and believed it to heal the ill.
- The Dreamtime creation story of the Gundungurra people explains the creation of the whole countryside; it tells of how two ancestral spirits - a great eel-like creature, Gurangatch (an incarnation of the Rainbow Snake), and a large native cat, or quoll, Mirrangan - had an almighty struggle that led to the gouging out of the land, forming the Jenolan Caves, as well as river systems and the Wombeyan Caves.
Pairings/Characters: England + Australia.
Summary: She's just a bundle of troubles.
Rating: PG
Notes: Set in their first year of colonisation, so hello, ~unstable relations~. ... This thing is so short and my end-notes are getting longer, what is this.
---
She'd run away again.
It was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth, keeping her.
Not that England didn't understand why she kept running - the abuse of those they had found living on the land always sent her into a fit of anger - but he couldn't help it if the natives wouldn't work as they were told, wouldn't give up their nonsensical beliefs in favour of accepting the Lord, and wouldn't relinquish their useless artefacts.They could learn, he'd seen that much, but they just weren't willing; they were too stubborn just to give up their language, even though the order had been issued time and time again.
To be honest, though, it was her and her empty land that he was more interested in for the time being.
He knew where to find her, at least; she fled to the same place every time she saw the savages she claimed to be "her people" being treated with force or with disrespect. He wasn't sure that it could really be called 'hiding' if she always chose the same spot to run to, but he wasn't about to complain.
It was just a royal pain in the ass to get there.
Some high caves a way away from where they'd decided to settle that he saw no significance in, and he didn't care much to think about - the only important thing he could see about them was that his colony was hiding away inside, and he had to drag her out. Again.
He sighed and trudged on in.
It only took a minute of wandering and searching through the dark caves to find her, sitting by one of the bizarre rock formations with her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes on the ground. England frowned down at her.
"Let's go," he said shortly. She didn't look up at him, muttered something in the natives' language that he couldn't understand, and he grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly to her feet. "English."
"... Why do you hurt them?" she asked, and for a moment, he revelled in the sound; her British accent was proper and clear, and despite that she frowned as though the words were foreign on her tongue, she spoke it so fluently and flawlessly that she may as well have been a high-class London-born lady.
Unfortunately, then what she had actually said had to sink in.
"They wouldn't have to be hurt if they did as they were told," he said sadly, despite his attempts to sound entirely detached.
"What they are told to do hurts them," she snapped, suddenly fierce, and pulled her arm from his slackened grasp. "Give up the Dreamtime? Stop our ceremonies to the gods and the lands and the animals?" She tried to scoff and turn her nose up, to imitate him, but it ended up as a huff and a pout. "The Rainbow Snake will eat you," she muttered, petulant.
England scowled. "Mind your tone--"
"Fuck you," she spat, and sat back down, hunched over and avoiding his eye.
"Young lady, you watch your mouth! Where have you been learning language that bloody foul?! I certainly don't use it around you!"
"Your Englishmen," she said, venom suddenly gone and instead replaced by a sort of subdued quietness; almost a peace, or something similarly passive. "The other children are picking up on it too. Parents are not happy, to hear such strange, harsh words from another language that doesn't belong to this land."
He sighed heavily and, after an awkward moment of silence between them, took a seat on the ground beside her. "Do you know what it means?"
"No."
"Good. Don't use crude language like that."
"Alright." She shifted, frowning at the uncomfortable material of her tunic, and looked up at him, head resting on her knees once again. "... This place is Binoomea," she told him, speaking slowly and a little hesitantly. "It's sacred - the spirits of the land carved it out, and we use it to heal the ill and the wounded." He met her eye, confused, and she explained, "The water, down in the lower caves."
He hummed. If it was sacred, then no wonder the natives had been so outraged at him following the child in, after the first time she had tried to run from him. "What does the word mean?"
"Dark places."
He had to stifle a laugh at that, because they certainly were literal with their naming; most of the time, something was titled for its discoverer, or in the name of a Kingdom, and it tended to sound much better - but, then again, he supposed that they didn't think of people as particularly important in comparison to the land itself, which was an oddity if he had ever known one.
She didn't seem to notice his muffled chuckle, and gave a tiny sigh. "My people are upset."
England looked over to her. "... You know," he said thoughtfully, leaning back on his hands, "those Englishmen are your people too."
She turned to him, startled. "They are?"
He nodded. "Well, of course. Look at yourself; you look an awful lot more like us than one of those 'natives' of yours, don't you?" Australia frowned and hugged her knees tighter, cutting her gaze away again. "They live here, too; the crew of the ship, the convicts, the farmers, the wives. And aren't you a British colony?"
Her eyebrows drew together, and she was clearly conflicted. "But, then - I belong to the land, but whose country am I?"
"No-one's," he answered her without hesitation, not meeting the offended look she shot at him. "You are the land of Terra Australis, and you are my colony. That's enough." He placed his hand on her head and left it for a moment, comforting, before tousling her hair with mock-nonchalance.
And just as England had been hoping, the gesture was enough to make her grin widely, lively again, to bat at his hands with frantic, playful shrieking every time he dodged her grabs for him, and he hardly even realised he was laughing as she tried in vain to clambour up and ruffle his hair in retaliation for his attack.
And she may have been a bundle of trouble, but he kept her anyway.
Notes:
- When England first found her (which I will... write later, too), Australia would have been quite peaceful - the native tribes were a generally peaceful people, and she spent her time before colonisation as a Dreamtime spirit of the land. Her aggression and immaturity is actually inherited from the English colonisers and the convicts shipped over.
- This is the incident that set off her identity crisis. After this, she was constantly torn between whether the English were her people, or whether the Aborigines were, and it took an awful long time for her to come to the conclusion that her people didn't have to all be the same race.
- Her identity crisis would have been dreadful up until the time that the country was given its name, because she wouldn't have even had a race to go by; she was called the "land belonging to no-one", and her natives didn't even have an all-over name, so you can kind of imagine how confused the poor girl would have been.
- Binoomea is now known as the Jenolan Caves, and is a popular tourist site because of its incredible rock formations and various different caves.
- The Europeans didn't actually become involved in the Jenolan Caves until 1838 when its discovery was first recorded, but ex-convict and possible outlaw James McKeown was said to have been using the caves as a hideout sometime before then.
- There are still an unknown number of caves; many remain undiscovered to date.
- The natives to the area could find their way down to subterranean water in the caves, and believed it to heal the ill.
- The Dreamtime creation story of the Gundungurra people explains the creation of the whole countryside; it tells of how two ancestral spirits - a great eel-like creature, Gurangatch (an incarnation of the Rainbow Snake), and a large native cat, or quoll, Mirrangan - had an almighty struggle that led to the gouging out of the land, forming the Jenolan Caves, as well as river systems and the Wombeyan Caves.