Post by Sydinator on Oct 4, 2011 0:25:24 GMT -5
peter pan
Latvia has seen many things in his lifetime. He has existed since the fall of the Roman Empire, since tribes ran across his land, since before his sea was unexplored. A nation lives many lives, you see, has many dreams, has many memories. He's made many friends over the years, friendships that last a lifetime- or longer.
But, he has never had a friendship as short, or as wonderful, as his friendship with Peter Kirkland.
The Principality of Sealand.
( “I'm going to be like Rome! Just you watch!” )
Peter was a short lad, not that Latvia towered over him much but, still short. He was as loud as the ocean, as strong as the steel he was made of, and as beautiful as the coastal sea he named himself after. Latvia likes to think he had been in love with him, this bright lad, or maybe the opposite. Maybe the little nation had been hopelessly in love with him-
But, no. No. They had just been friends, the best of friends, wonderful friends.
( Poland wished they were more, so does Latvia. )
They had met, originally, in the spring at a World Meeting. Thinking back Latvia can't exactly remember how, (and this upsets him horribly), but, he can recall a bright blond boy with an even brighter smile, and flowers. He thinks he may have stabbed him with the stem of a flower, a bad first impression in retrospect but, it was the start of their friendship.
He had originally intended to give him advice as a mentor figure of sorts but, over time, things dissolved and they would find themselves making excuses to meet each other and 'hang out'. They went to parks, movies, they did everything together, when they had the chance.
( He had searched for him one day, and, with the worst accent ever, had told him 'Es tevi mīlu, Raivis!' and Latvia had been so thrilled he didn't even care his best friend had just butchered his language. )
They had been friends for about five years when the first sign started to show, when Peter started to thin out. He started to loose his strength, his youth, after that. No longer did he run around or shout, no, mostly he just spoke quietly, still excitedly but, not with the exuberance he had years ago.
When Wy died, when her micronation no longer existed and Australia was left in pieces, they all started to accept the inevitable.
( “I'm going to die, Raivis.” He had said, one day, while on the coast of the Baltic Sea. “Promise me you won't forget me, please?” He had nodded and, that was all they ever spoke of it. )
He moved away to his fort after Wy's funeral, lived alone in a shell of a dream. They all visited him when they could, England more then anyone it seemed, and Latvia heard from someone that it had actually been Canada who found him after his last Prince's death.
He was buried at sea, because it was what he would of wanted, and England tore down his fort only a month later.
Couldn't live with his ghost, he has said.
Latvia, himself, went home and cried. And cried. He got over it, with time, though, because he is an old nation and has seen many things in his life.
Now, whenever he's at the sea, whether at his own coast or at England's, he feels just a little bit more at peace.
Just a little bit more happier.
And, if he listens hard enough, he can hear the twinkling voice of his friend.
Yes, Latvia has made many friends in his lifetime but, none were quite like Peter.[/ul]
Latvia has seen many things in his lifetime. He has existed since the fall of the Roman Empire, since tribes ran across his land, since before his sea was unexplored. A nation lives many lives, you see, has many dreams, has many memories. He's made many friends over the years, friendships that last a lifetime- or longer.
But, he has never had a friendship as short, or as wonderful, as his friendship with Peter Kirkland.
The Principality of Sealand.
( “I'm going to be like Rome! Just you watch!” )
Peter was a short lad, not that Latvia towered over him much but, still short. He was as loud as the ocean, as strong as the steel he was made of, and as beautiful as the coastal sea he named himself after. Latvia likes to think he had been in love with him, this bright lad, or maybe the opposite. Maybe the little nation had been hopelessly in love with him-
But, no. No. They had just been friends, the best of friends, wonderful friends.
( Poland wished they were more, so does Latvia. )
They had met, originally, in the spring at a World Meeting. Thinking back Latvia can't exactly remember how, (and this upsets him horribly), but, he can recall a bright blond boy with an even brighter smile, and flowers. He thinks he may have stabbed him with the stem of a flower, a bad first impression in retrospect but, it was the start of their friendship.
He had originally intended to give him advice as a mentor figure of sorts but, over time, things dissolved and they would find themselves making excuses to meet each other and 'hang out'. They went to parks, movies, they did everything together, when they had the chance.
( He had searched for him one day, and, with the worst accent ever, had told him 'Es tevi mīlu, Raivis!' and Latvia had been so thrilled he didn't even care his best friend had just butchered his language. )
They had been friends for about five years when the first sign started to show, when Peter started to thin out. He started to loose his strength, his youth, after that. No longer did he run around or shout, no, mostly he just spoke quietly, still excitedly but, not with the exuberance he had years ago.
When Wy died, when her micronation no longer existed and Australia was left in pieces, they all started to accept the inevitable.
( “I'm going to die, Raivis.” He had said, one day, while on the coast of the Baltic Sea. “Promise me you won't forget me, please?” He had nodded and, that was all they ever spoke of it. )
He moved away to his fort after Wy's funeral, lived alone in a shell of a dream. They all visited him when they could, England more then anyone it seemed, and Latvia heard from someone that it had actually been Canada who found him after his last Prince's death.
He was buried at sea, because it was what he would of wanted, and England tore down his fort only a month later.
Couldn't live with his ghost, he has said.
Latvia, himself, went home and cried. And cried. He got over it, with time, though, because he is an old nation and has seen many things in his life.
Now, whenever he's at the sea, whether at his own coast or at England's, he feels just a little bit more at peace.
Just a little bit more happier.
And, if he listens hard enough, he can hear the twinkling voice of his friend.
Yes, Latvia has made many friends in his lifetime but, none were quite like Peter.[/ul]