Of National Unrest [France]

[Spain]

It almost seemed foolish to be discussing politics in a world that had recently suffered the supposed apocalypse. There was so little left of society, after all, but Antonio supposed that that little desire for order was what was still sustaining him in wake of everything. His people’s will was his lifeblood just as much as the lands they inhabited were his body, and without their sense of cohesion…well he wasn’t entirely sure what happened to nations that dissolved, but he warranted that it wasn’t pleasant.

The ache and sting of still lingering quakes was a constant thorn in his side, punctuated ever so often by a needling of sensation down his spine as yet another one of his people’s temporary settlements were raided. It was true that he had gone through years of war and strife, but his populous’ suffering was still something that affected him drastically. If only there was something he could do to ease it overnight, some sort of cure to all of the complications that had been occurring, but it was nothing more than a hopeful wish. It would take time, time and work, but right off the bat it seemed that things weren’t going to go as smooth as he would have wished.

In as much, he found himself tidying himself up the best that he could and gathering what could possibly constitute a few of the surviving officials from his current pseudo-government. Their titles meant next to nothing, and frankly he didn’t take many orders from them seriously at all, but it gave an illusion that he was better off than what was actual truth. The very point of this meeting, to be sure, was to hopefully put a stop to the constant raids from some of the nearby French settlements, and he couldn’t afford to appear weak and unstable, no matter how he truly felt.

A meeting with the French…he couldn’t help but narrow his eyes in a show of agitation. Before the world had ended, he had adored the man, called him ‘friend’, but now that title was like poison on his tongue, much to his sadness. Truly he tried to keep a positive face in light of all the calamities, but he would not stand for other nations pillaging him in a time of such chaos. His people’s ire towards Francis metamorphosed into his own, but politics were supposed to solve all of that, or at least calm some of the hatred.

His nerves were on edge, frayed and sparking like livewires, and he found that he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust his fellow nation. After all, Francis’ people were already belligerent, who was to say that the nation of France himself wasn’t as well? No, those were thoughts that he couldn’t pander to at the moment; optimism was all he had in the aftermath of all of the tragedies, and if he lost that, he would be no better than some of the more war-hungry Nations who were trying to use the situation for their own advantage. And so he trudged on, trying to make it to their appointed meeting spot early, just in case the entire thing turned out to be some sort of elaborate ruse. He didn’t want to believe that Francis would ever do such a thing, but there was no telling anymore in this new, bitter world.

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