First Person:[The train, in and of itself, was not unfamiliar – with the recent innovations in steam engines, he had been travelling by them since 1837. That was not the alarming part. The alarming part was that he, the Austrian Empire, had until recently been attending a lavish ball with his wife, in celebration of the Advent Season. Even his fine attire reflected this, from the lavish overcoat and sash to the fine breeches tucked into elegant black boots.
Now, he was stepping off of this unfamiliar train, onto an unfamiliar platform, and while the chill in the air did not bother him, he narrowed his violet eyes in suspicion. Was he in danger? Was this a prank? It was likely a prank, and Heaven help Prussia when Hungary finds out.
He steps about the platform, reading the signs, in English, about this ‘Ruby City’. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an ornate pocket watch, unaware that his own watch had been completely modified to suit his newfound needs in the city.
His face, when it appears on the Network, appears mostly unaware of the broadcast as he checks the time. He makes a hum of discontent. His face is wholly familiar to most in Ruby City, but there is something different about this Austria. Something in the way he carries himself, in the stride of his walk and the squaring of his shoulders. Also, that he is wholly unaware of his situation and where he is.]
Hello? Good evening? [He calls out into the empty station, sounding mildly perturbed.] This was all quite clever, but I need to be returning shortly, lest my wife catch ear of this charade.
Third Person:
Well, this certainly was not Vienna, despite the brisk winter wind that blew through the dark train station.
The man who stepped off the train moved with a certain grace that seemed lost to the centuries; even his attire, elegant and old-fashioned, seemed otherworldly. He stood on the platform for a moment, his dark hair cast about with the wind, and regarded his surroundings with a certain air of irritated aristocracy. Though his breeches and knee high boots were simple and polished, his overcoat was richly embroidered golds and blues, and the cravat and pin he wore were just as lavish. These were not the clothing of a poor man, or a man out for a simple stroll.
In fact, this man, the Austrian Empire, had been at an Advent Ball not moments ago, where he’d just enjoyed a waltz with his wife. They had their spats, of course…but tonight had been enjoyable, and he did not look forward to the tongue-lashing he’d receive if he never returned. Surely, this was a prank, and he knitted his brow further.
“A prank. How juvenile of him,” he murmured as he checked the time on his pocket watch. “And of all nights to pull one…but how did he do this without my even noticing…hrm. Perhaps he slipped something into the wine…”
Re: [CANON] Austria/Roderich Edelstein | Axis Powers Hetalia | Reserved | 3 of 3
Now, he was stepping off of this unfamiliar train, onto an unfamiliar platform, and while the chill in the air did not bother him, he narrowed his violet eyes in suspicion. Was he in danger? Was this a prank? It was likely a prank, and Heaven help Prussia when Hungary finds out.
He steps about the platform, reading the signs, in English, about this ‘Ruby City’. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an ornate pocket watch, unaware that his own watch had been completely modified to suit his newfound needs in the city.
His face, when it appears on the Network, appears mostly unaware of the broadcast as he checks the time. He makes a hum of discontent. His face is wholly familiar to most in Ruby City, but there is something different about this Austria. Something in the way he carries himself, in the stride of his walk and the squaring of his shoulders. Also, that he is wholly unaware of his situation and where he is.]
Hello? Good evening? [He calls out into the empty station, sounding mildly perturbed.] This was all quite clever, but I need to be returning shortly, lest my wife catch ear of this charade.
Third Person:
Well, this certainly was not Vienna, despite the brisk winter wind that blew through the dark train station.
The man who stepped off the train moved with a certain grace that seemed lost to the centuries; even his attire, elegant and old-fashioned, seemed otherworldly. He stood on the platform for a moment, his dark hair cast about with the wind, and regarded his surroundings with a certain air of irritated aristocracy. Though his breeches and knee high boots were simple and polished, his overcoat was richly embroidered golds and blues, and the cravat and pin he wore were just as lavish. These were not the clothing of a poor man, or a man out for a simple stroll.
In fact, this man, the Austrian Empire, had been at an Advent Ball not moments ago, where he’d just enjoyed a waltz with his wife. They had their spats, of course…but tonight had been enjoyable, and he did not look forward to the tongue-lashing he’d receive if he never returned. Surely, this was a prank, and he knitted his brow further.
“A prank. How juvenile of him,” he murmured as he checked the time on his pocket watch. “And of all nights to pull one…but how did he do this without my even noticing…hrm. Perhaps he slipped something into the wine…”