[The commuter flickers on to focus in on incredible bright green eyes. For a second that’s all that’s visible, but soon enough their owner is leaning back with a peal of delighted laughter, jostling the pocket watch just so that the feed goes a bit blurry. Spain is still rather recognizable, if only from the easy going smile on his face.
There’s no hint that he was initially disconcerted to wake up on a strange train, with no idea where he was or where he was heading. He taps a finger against the face of the watch, murmuring to himself before he realizes its recording. He perks up, fingers twitching up into a lazy wave.]
Hooola~! Can somebody tell me where I am?
[He doesn’t quite seem to realize his video is upside down.]
Third Person:
Battle was always something messy, no matter whom it was against, but Spain had grown used to it (or rather, as used to battle as one could be). In some manner, he enjoyed it far more than he liked to admit. The heft of a battle ax in his hand was familiar and comforting, and the thrill of the hunt left him grinning, flying high on adrenaline. He liked to think that there was a roguish charm to soldiers, and that while perhaps many would die, this was all for a good cause, a great cause. Perhaps he could not quite wrap his mind around it, but why else would his boss send him out to war? Surely there was a reason, and it was not his job to question his king.
He ignored the fluttering thought that he didn’t question things simply because he wanted to go throw himself into the fray and turned his attention to the opposing army. It was all too easy to catch glimpse of the other nation, green eyes locking on their form as the armies met and clashed like a wave upon the sand. Spain strode through the carnage, eyes never straying very far from his opponent, even as his people died around him, as enemy soldiers attempted to cut him down. Though the mortals fought and bled, this was between nations, and nothing could get in their way.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and the harsh rays of sunlight made the armor he bore that much heavier, but still he couldn’t stop the sharp smile from blooming on his face nor the excitement bubbling in his stomach. Amidst the chaos their blades meet, sword and ax adding to the cacophony of noise around them. And while a part of him just wants to return home to his darling little Italia, a bigger part screams and thrills at the hunt. The nations grin sharply at each other and spring apart, beginning the deadly dance of weapons.
Perhaps one of them would lay dead at the end. But that was war. And war was messy.
{ Spain || Axis Powers Hetalia || no reserve || 3 of 3 }
[The commuter flickers on to focus in on incredible bright green eyes. For a second that’s all that’s visible, but soon enough their owner is leaning back with a peal of delighted laughter, jostling the pocket watch just so that the feed goes a bit blurry. Spain is still rather recognizable, if only from the easy going smile on his face.
There’s no hint that he was initially disconcerted to wake up on a strange train, with no idea where he was or where he was heading. He taps a finger against the face of the watch, murmuring to himself before he realizes its recording. He perks up, fingers twitching up into a lazy wave.]
Hooola~! Can somebody tell me where I am?
[He doesn’t quite seem to realize his video is upside down.]
Third Person:
Battle was always something messy, no matter whom it was against, but Spain had grown used to it (or rather, as used to battle as one could be). In some manner, he enjoyed it far more than he liked to admit. The heft of a battle ax in his hand was familiar and comforting, and the thrill of the hunt left him grinning, flying high on adrenaline. He liked to think that there was a roguish charm to soldiers, and that while perhaps many would die, this was all for a good cause, a great cause. Perhaps he could not quite wrap his mind around it, but why else would his boss send him out to war? Surely there was a reason, and it was not his job to question his king.
He ignored the fluttering thought that he didn’t question things simply because he wanted to go throw himself into the fray and turned his attention to the opposing army. It was all too easy to catch glimpse of the other nation, green eyes locking on their form as the armies met and clashed like a wave upon the sand. Spain strode through the carnage, eyes never straying very far from his opponent, even as his people died around him, as enemy soldiers attempted to cut him down. Though the mortals fought and bled, this was between nations, and nothing could get in their way.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and the harsh rays of sunlight made the armor he bore that much heavier, but still he couldn’t stop the sharp smile from blooming on his face nor the excitement bubbling in his stomach. Amidst the chaos their blades meet, sword and ax adding to the cacophony of noise around them. And while a part of him just wants to return home to his darling little Italia, a bigger part screams and thrills at the hunt. The nations grin sharply at each other and spring apart, beginning the deadly dance of weapons.
Perhaps one of them would lay dead at the end. But that was war. And war was messy.