The First World Meeting - Host: Transylvania[CLOSED]

He quickly glanced over to the Italian that sat next to him. He saw him drawing, making him smile. He turned back to the American and answered quickly, "Bien gracias." He seemed to be anxious for some reason, almost as if he was panicking. But just when he looked away, he noticed Alfred's glasses. He stared at them for a moment, not realizing he was doing so. He took a deep breath, and in a soft tone he asked, "How are your...estados?" 

Asking such a thing seemed to take something off of his chest. It was something like relief, or at least that was one way to put it. In truth, it was his former states that he was really interested about. In a sense, he was glad they became part of America. America gave them more then Mexico could ever have, though he would never admit such. Even if Mexico referred to them as 'land I used to have,' he sometimes regretted not being able to have a hold on them. The thoughts sometimes passed his mind, but he couldn't help but smile at their growth.

Oh, April Fool's day. A day rarely celebrated in Russia, yet at the same time so amusing to watch.

Ivan knew this meeting would last until this day, so he came prepared...

Before the meeting, he had put super glue in all of the meeting chairs. Exept the ones the Russians were going to be seated in, that is.

But no one could suspect anything from Russia, right? I mean, sure... he was creepy and all... but he rarely spoke in meetings, and usually just sat there watching everyone with aa vacant smile.

America was the prankster around here. Oh, how much fun this was going to be.

Ivan waited patiently, watching through half-lidded irises.... waiting to see who will be the first to realize they were glued firmly to their seats.

Hope no one minds if I jump in o.o -whew-

_________________

Francis was already seated, and was unforunately, unaware of the super glue sticking him directly to his seat. He sighed, absentmindedly watching and listening to the idle chat of the American and the Mexican, yet doing his best to ignore the Brit not too far away. As usual, he was practically itching to say something, anything, to annoy the Brit or even the American, but just barely managed to hold his tounge before an insult could slip out from his lips.

As much as he wanted to start a fight, start any argument, he knew it would be both pointless and just a mere waste of time in general. But, the Frenchman knew rather well that he couldn't hold off for too long by now. "Ugh..mon dieu.." Francis muttered, growing slightly impatient. He mentally cursed at himself for not bringing any of his precious wine to occupy himself while he waited, and visibly looked rather bored. Sighing, he straightened up, tuning out of Alfred and Mexico's coversation. Crossing his legs, he silently glanced around, raising a questioning brow at Ivan, then quickly looked away absentmindedly.

As usual, merely looking at the Russian alone made Francis fairly uneasy. Francis always had to remind himself that arguing with England would be far better; and less intimidating; than attempting to make idle chat with Ivan.

Alek sighed and allowed a smile spread across his lips while his sister attempted a sweet kiss. "Mmhm. Keep saying dat." he smirked and rubbed his temple. He gave a sort of..timid look to his sister? He was in thought and his face looked quite childish while he did so. He turned towards Dominika. "Dominika, do you know any of dese people?" he asked this quietly. These new faces had gotten the best of his self consciousness.

Francis sat there for another moment, but then paused, snapping to attention as he just faintly heard the little Italian's voice. Finally glad to take his mind off of Ivan or even England, he couldn't help but smile happily, casting a glance over his shoulder at the other nation. "Ah, bonjour Italy!" Even now, Frenchman couldn't remember the last time he had seen Italy, nor had he taken the time to notice that he had been nearby; much to his own private shame. He mentally scolded himself to, well, not become so oblivious the next time.

Personally, he adored the little nation, and seeing him again brought Francis a spark of satisfaction. Watching Italy closely, the smile that was spread across Francis' features slowly changed to a look of just plain confusion and alarm when Italy stood up, the chair glued to his butt. Francis couldn't help but cringe as Italy began yelling out and crying; the mere sight of Italy's tears made Francis feel a twinge of pity for the scared nation. Just because he was french didn't mean Francis always laughed at other people's pain or fear; well, not all of the time anyways.

Then, much to his own shock, as Italy began running around the room with surprising speed, Francis raised an eyebrow and stood up abruptly-but, just like Italy, Francis felt his backside to be rather...heavy? He glanced over his shoulder, growing pale with alarm and his icy blue eyes flashing with both embarassment and annoyance. "Gah, what is the meaning of this?!" He exclaimed, glaring at no one in particular while he cursed aloud; gladly in his own language; for a split second.

Although, he knew quite well someone had to stop Italy from his panic-attack, and hopefully someone would, before someone got to the little 'mystery' of why a chair was stuck first to Italy, and now on Francis' butts.

"Alfred, making a mockery of us does not help at all!"

Upon hearing the American laughing, Francis scowled irritably, crossing his arms and scoffing. Icy blue eyes glittering with annoyance, he turned slightly to the best of his ability, the chair feeling overly heavy on his backside, and glaring irritably at Alfred. But, at hearing Viorica, Francis was about to open his mouth to snap an insult at Alfred, but he, rather hesitantly, held himself back and grew quiet. He knew better than to argue at the moment, as much as he wanted to, yet he didn't exactly want to come across as disrespectful with Viorica, no matter who had pulled such a mockery of a prank to he, Alfred, and Italy. As annoyed as he was about all this, Francis thought it better now to save the arguments for later...right?

But yet, as Alfred stood up, the chair glued to him too, Francis burst into his natural laughter; he certaintly was one to talk, despite the current predicament. Briskly wiping a few tears from the corner of his icy blue eyes, cheeks flushed a light shade of red, it took a few moments for him to grow calm once more, uttering the occasinal hearty chuckle of amusment as he managed to relax and regain his remaining composure. "Ah, Alfred.." He took in a breath and shook his head, brushing a lock of curly blonde hair out of his eyes. "It seems as though karma returned for her revenge, monsieur." Francis sneered lightly to Alfred, although the Frenchman did shift restlessly himself, anything but comfortable with a chair stuck to his backside.

Arthur watched Mexico approached Alfred and nodded his head, keeping the silence. He really wanted to leave the meeting as of right now, bu that would just be rude. He'd just have to keep from letting his anger out on anyone else that tried to talk to him. If only that was easy...

The Brit heard the Swede ask him a question so he gladly gave a small smile. "Me? I'm fine!" He replied, crossing his arms a bit tighter than necessary. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. Just as he finished talking to Sweden for a few seconds, his attetntion went to the wailing Italian who blamed him for something he wasn't aware of. "Me?! I did no such thing!" the Brit yelled back. Things were getting suspicipous now that France along with Italy and Alfred were stuck in there seats, with super glue most likely. He was paying most attention to the three nations that were in distress that he dismissed what the young girl said. 'It better not be all of us...' he thought to himself, shifting slight as he frowned.

Mexico and America did have quite a relation with each other. Mexico's citizens continually have been crossing the border into America's country, of which have gotten harder to cross in the past few years. A fair percentage of them smuggled in drugs for pay, and still it continues. It was true, the Mexican had a great dislike for America when he sent the immigrants back, especially if they were harmed. But he also knew that it was law, but Mexico wasn't ever too good with law.

Even if he had great dislikes for Alfred, Alfred helped protect his country. It was hard to speak so badly of him when he knew that America's soldiers were the reason no other country had taken over Mexico. Needless to say, Mexico had mixed feeling towards the older nation. He couldn't hate him, yet he couldn't get to liking him immensely either.

Just as he was about to speak, he heard a panicking voice darting around the room, as if it were in great fear. He glanced to his side, only to see Italy with a chair stuck behind him. He felt pity for the Italian, and he attempted to get up from his seat in order to help him. But just when he was about to rise, he couldn't. The sudden restrain surprised him, and he looked around to see if anyone else was having the same problem. Both the French man and the American were irritated, no doubt it was because they both were stuck to their chairs.

He rested his chin once more on the table when the host began speaking. He was cursing severely under his breath, promising to have revenge on who it was that had done such a thing. He slightly smiled, thinking of how he would send Catrinas after the prankster. But for now, he had only to sit through this until it was over.

Dominika's eyes flickered with slight annoyance at the sight of Aleksei's timid smile. Did that girl even have a heart? Her amethyst hues roamed around the room in search for familiar faces. Some of them were quite familiar, and some were alien to her. "Ai know a few...", she spoke delicately, though her voice lacked enthusiasm. She pointed a finger at the Brit, the American and Sweden. "Ai know Britain, Amerika and Sweden." Retreating her finger, she rested it against her chin. "Hmn... Ai tink dat's all".

Those sweet lips cracked an amused smirk at the sight of the Italian, Frenchman and American. Who was the culprit? Honestly, she did not know, but she had a feeling that they were quite close to her. Dominika leaned to the side a bit to scan the features on her father's face. Knowing him, that smile plastered on his face did not radiate annoyance which meant only one thing: he either did not mind being glued to the chair, either he was the culprit. That reminds her... She moved her butt a little on the chair.. she slipped on it, which meant that she was not glued to it. The young Russian girl snickered sweetly and flashed a smile at her father that pretty much said "Good job, papa".

His emerald eyes darkened with anger as he looked at the Russian, "Bastardo." He thought to himself as he looked around at the other struggling nations, "I do believe that the Transylvanian is right. Alfred do give us one of your 'speeches' por favor?" The Spaniard turned to look at the American.

The Russian expression remained just as blank and vacant as before, not giving any signs of humor at the other countries' discomfort. His inner-self, however, was literally rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach and howling with laughter. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the running Italian.

Hmn.. He thought to himself with a faint tilt of his head. Maybe I should have also glued the chairs to the floor...

He felt a light prickle going down his spine. Upon turning, he saw that the ruby irises of the Transylvanian glaring at him. He gave her a thin, innocent smile in return, one that an oblivious child would give instead of asking "What?"; But hey, at least one of them got the drift.

Relieved that Vio didn't question him about it, Ivan leaned back into his chair again, but didn't bother shifting in any way. That would just make it easy to tell that he wasn't glued to his chair.

"Ai enjoy et here. However, ai have a suggestion." The Russian spoke up with his usual smile. He noticed Britian had shifted; yes... glue was also placed on his chair beforehand. Ivan looked over at Dominika at her praise, but his thin smile on it's own, sweetly uttered 'Quiet...'

After sending the silent message to his daughter, the Russian allowed his eyes to slide shut as he spoke again. Damn.. he did indeed appear innocent.

"Maybe after the Gauken es over, we can host a prom for de kids. Et would be a nice get-together ting, da?"

"Hm..alright." he saw the slight glint in her eyes but made no motion in revealing that. He was one to pick up small details like that. But he simply turned away to look at his father hesitating to get in his seat. He listened carefully resting his head in the palm of his hand, his ears perking up hearing the Spaniards native tongue. He looked over for a split second. Other than his eyes he didn't seem to move.

---

I should be Germany O.o
/Cazzo = Fuck

“The website is an amazing success, I believe..” The Swedish spoke up softly, trying to keep his gaze low and not stand up. He was wearing two pairs of pants… but it would be so awkward to rip his pants just to get out of the chair.

He let out a stressed breath, his gaze settling on the ceiling as he leaned his head back up. Truly wanting to just listen for the moment to the conversations going on.

---

　((Kazakhstan... Kylyshbek -Kylie- Kozlov))



A woman rushed down the hall as a dark clouded presence floated above her head. Keeping her hands deep into her pockets of her red robe like dress with a black paisley pattern, her single revealed vermillion iris land to where the sound of the Italian’s cries were coming from. Her other eye was covered with a thick black eye patch that made her appearance almost threatening.

That must be where I’m supposed to go… she thought quietly and removed her left hand, brushing her braided black hair down.

Jolted her head to the right to get her blood red tinted bangs to flip to the right eye, her hand grabbed the door handle and pushed it open. Instantly growing flushed in the cheeks, the new country looked around for an open chair, looking a bit nervous despite the eerie aura ebbing off her. She cleared her throat and grabbed a spare chair from the wall, one without glue, and sat near the end of the table. Feeling a bit out of place since she was so late in appearance, she tried to look respectable. Sitting up straighter and staring dead on at the man who was specking and mothering his red hand. A soft, uncanny smirk fading onto her pale pink lips.

Arthur groaned and crossed his arms on the table and laid his head against them. He clearly wanted out of the meeting. He'll have a nice "chat" with the person responsible for this horrid prank. He smirked slightly when he remembered he always wore his waiter outfit under his normal clothes. It would be awkard and embarrising to walk out of the meeting wearing only just that but, who cares. He could live with it.

Alek looked under the table, being careful not to reveal that he wasn't glued to his chair either. He looked at the Italian and chuckled softly giving him a kind smile.

"Why do you hide?" he murmured.
"If Germany were here wouldn't you like to show courage and power in front of him? I'm sure he'd be proud." his lips twitched slightly into a grin. He spoke quietly before going up again to fiddle with the small bottle in his fingers.

-Alek