It Could Be Worse - I Could Be In Russia [Sealand]

Is Vicente used to the cold? Not even remotely! His land is solidly in the tropics, where he enjoys year-round hot to mild temperatures - well, except in the really tall mountains, which he doesn't visit very much because it's cold up there. Which means that neither the water nor the air above it need to actually be freezing cold for him to feel like he's freezing.

And the fact that he's a Nation actually makes it worse for him in a way - if he was a human, he could be comforted by the fact that things get bad enough there's a limited amount of time he could suffer before he dies. As a nation, especially one whose home is in perfect condition, who knows how long it would take for the sheer cold to put him out of his misery? Though he hopes that now that he's out of the water, eventually he'll dry some and then it won't be so bad. Only the bit of debris he found isn't much of a raft and he's still getting a bit wet.

Fortunately, he's saved from possible fates worse than death (if a bit exaggerated by his imagination), with the arrival of some kid in a boat. Though on the inside he's greatly relieved by this apparent rescue, on the surface he only reacts with a turn of his head - right now he finds himself unable to do much besides shiver and hang on to the debris. There's a moment of hesitation before he grabs the boy's offered hand - he definitely doesn't recognize him and figures that he's probably Alliance. Accepting help from him could turn out very, very badly. On the other hand, what choice does he have? Is he really going to refuse the offer? Of course not. Right now it doesn't matter who he is or what side he's on - he's help.

Actually moving from the debris and into the boat is actually quite difficult - he's shivering and stiff, and still healing from his injuries from the plane crash - which are largely internal right now, though the clumsy way in which he moves can't all be attributed to cold. Eager to stay out of the water, he's careful as he can as he moves from the uncertain, wet surface to a somewhat better one, though even with the boy's help it's difficult.

In spite of the fact that his shivering seems to have rendered him either unwilling or unable (or perhaps a bit of both, actually) to either talk much or show much of an expression, he listens very carefully as the boy introduces himself. He can hardly claim to know all the other nations, but he is surprised when he's given a name that he's sure that he's never heard of. Or if he did, then he doesn't remember - he forgets a lot of things, but he'd thought that at the very least the names of the other nations are familiar enough to him that they'd at lease sound familiar when mentioned, but not this one. Weird. Though the 'principality' part of it makes it make more sense - that means that he's a really small nation, right? There are a lot of small ones.

"N-no-o..." he stammers out an answer to the question, though with how badly he seems to be taking it probably renders that question pointless - he would be doing much better if that were the case. Though, on the other hand, aside from the symptoms of being cold and injured, the rest of him seems healthy enough - some warmth and rest and he'll be fine in no time, most likely. "V-Venezuela - tr-tropical," he manages through his chattering teeth. Which is a good sign, actually - if he was really badly off, he wouldn't be shivering.

Now firmly settled into the boat, it looks like most of the danger of capsizing is over. Far from being a land-locked country, he's not totally unfamiliar with being out on the water, but he's no island nation either - the water is a place to visit, not a home, and his idea of a good place to visit is a tropical beach - so he'll be happy to be on solid ground again.

But for now he's quite happy just to have the blanket - he doesn't note the odd construction as he pulls it close around him. It will make him less cold, and that's all that he cares about. Which is similar to his feelings about the hot chocolate - he doesn't care what the drink is, as long as it will make him warm. He's about to take a sip of it when he's handed the heat compress. With one hand holding the blanket tightly around him and another holding the hot chocolate, he has to juggle everything he's holding a little bit to take the heat compress, but he's far from complaining about it - now he has three things to warm him up, when before he had none.

Tucking the compress against his chest, underneath the folds of the blanket, he sips the chocolate and does believe that he's starting to feel himself warming up a bit already. Which is why he doesn't bother answering the question - he'll take that as rhetorical. Though the next couple of questions prove that he's regaining some of his powers of speech because he's more easily able to answer them. "I'll b-be fine, j-just need s-some time," he says, "M-my country is d-doing well now." Which has quite a bit of an effect on how well he can expect to recover. Happy, healthy, and strong people create a happy, healthy, and strong nation who can bounce back from these sorts of things better than they otherwise would.

He doesn't much mind that the kid seems to like to ramble. He's similar actually - well, not so much when he's recovering from an ocean plane wreck, but he knows how to talk. So it's not that, but the subject matter that causes him to frown a little. "I am an a-adult," he states, but there's a sort of dullness to that statement that indicates that he's not overly offended. If anything, it sounds like he's utterly sick of having to say that all the time. Just because he's still a bit short doesn't mean that he's not entitled to be considered an adult by everyone - he's surely got another growth spurt in him, but even without it he's become powerful enough that everyone should take him seriously already.

Concentrating on capturing as much heat as possible within the blanket above almost everything else, he's not actually paying much attention to what can be seen in the fog or where they're headed. Does that really matter right now? It's somewhere undoubtedly better than this boat, that's all that matters. Though he looks a bit amused when the kid starts being embarrassed by how small his territory is. Not having seen it, he wouldn't know, but he looks amused as he comments, "All n-nations were s-small once. I r-remember being a p-province." That was a long time ago, of course. In fact he was probably even smaller at one point, but he doesn't remember - he was too young. Well, that, and the whole Spanish colonization was a complicated mess - he's sure that even his father doesn't remember a lot of the details.

About to agree with the other nation about the sometimes unusual nature of being a nation sometimes - it seems that each of them is different, after all, as their nature depends so much upon the nature of their country - instead Vicente's thoughts are abruptly silenced by the last thing the boy says. He's made of metal? Did he hear that right? What does he mean by 'metal'? Unable to figure out how to put his confusion into words, he simply gives the other nation an odd look and says nothing.

But seeing how quickly apologetic Peter becomes when he pointed out what he said wrong, it's all too easy for Vicente to overlook the error. After all, the other nation clearly knows what it's like to not be treated seriously. "I a-am strong, but I've b-been held back by... t-things, I think," he replies, "I t-think we only grow if things are r-right for us to grow." Which is about as well as he can put his own ideas on the subject. Perhaps he should ask China how that all works sometime - surely the ancient nation would know, having been around as long as he has. Of course, the tricky part with China is figuring out what his often cryptic answers actually mean.

What he does know, in spite of the fact that it so often annoys him when he's treated like he's young, that his current age feels right somehow. He should be as young as he is... he just should be taken seriously by other nations at the same time. And he frequently isn't, at least by many of the larger nations. He's not the smallest nation in the world, but he's far from the biggest or the strongest, so he doesn't simply remember being treated poorly because of it - his first-hand experience of that problem is quite recent. In fact, the very plane trip that he just crashed during was somewhat a part of that. So it's all too easy for him to empathize with the smaller nation's feelings - just because he's much bigger doesn't mean that he doesn't feel small sometimes.

Something that he forgets momentarily when their destination comes into view, and after a few moments he realizes what the boy just said. "That's a-all of you?" he asks in honest surprise, as it's never occurred to him that such a thing could be considered a nation. Mostly because if anything remotely like that ever cropped up in his territory, he would annex it without a second thought. He laughs and comments, "I w-wouldn't even need my m-military to defeat that!" Though the moment that those words leave his lips he realizes how it sounds, so he hastily adds, "N-not that I w-would - you are h-helping me, and that would be r-rude." There's another, longer pause before he asks, "No nation has c-come to conquer you?" Or at least he assumes so, because he also assumes that the micronation would have been defeated and this territory would then belong to that nation if it happened - and it clearly surprises him that it hasn't. And not a little bit surprised, either - he literally wouldn't have believed it if he weren't seeing it.

Only after he's over that surprised can he consider the problem of the ladder. And it is a problem - he may be lacking in easily visible injuries like your basic cuts and bruises, thanks to how long he was beneath the water, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't have just the sort of injuries that would make climbing that ladder difficult. Nevertheless, after the moment of thought, he declares, "I will c-climb the ladder." And there's something about the extremely final way he says it that indicates that the question is not open for discussion either - perhaps there's another way up, but he will climb the ladder because he has determined to do so.

Vicente definitely doesn't smile very much. But that also doesn't mean that he's necessarily not a happy nation - it's just that when he's almost completely happy he's so busy thinking about whatever it is that's preventing him from being completely happy that he forgets to stop and enjoy the fact that most of him is happy. Still, ever since the war started he's certainly found more and worse things to be unhappy about. Of course... he's also found a lot of other things about the war that have made him happier, so perhaps it evens out somewhat.

And that's just one of many ways that they're different, in spite of their similarities. Vicente lost his ability to trust other nations easily a long time ago. Most of them are bastardos and the rest of them are worse. You give them an inch, show one moment of weakness, and then next thing you know you've become a puppet-state! ...His distrust may or may not have reached the point of being outright paranoia.

Fortunately for the young nation in front of him, it's much easier to trust someone you think is too weak to hurt you very much - which may be an insult to the little nation's ingenuity, but at least it means that Vicente can actually feel fairly relaxed right now. Except, of course, for all his inward grumblings about the situation that he's gotten himself into and the pain and inconvenience it will all end up being. Perhaps this means that he'll be able to get out of having to go to Russia, though? That would be a nice silver lining...

But just because he's so easily drawn to thinking about whatever it is that's making him miserable at the moment, that doesn't mean that he likes dwelling in misery. Which is why having his mind boggled by this revelation about his rescuer is such a welcome diversion. And he's glad that the kid doesn't seem to be very offended - he wasn't trying to be offensive, he's just honestly surprised and still trying to wrap his mind around it.

Perhaps the most surprising bit of it to him is the part where nobody has come to stop this yet. "'H-Hasn't done anything'?" he echos in disbelief. He's quite certain that such a thing would never happen in South America - the nations there would not see even something this small as too unimportant to take care of the moment that it came up. Especially since there's an extreme scarcity of anything - habitable or not - that hasn't been thoroughly claimed by someone, and in many cases by multiple someones. (Sometimes things have been claimed by multiple nations when neither of them really wants it, but they definitely don't want the other one to have it.) And it's the principle of the thing! You don't let little bits of yourself run off and become new nations! But apparently Britain doesn't think so. Actually, he finds that kind of funny...

It's probably very fortunate for Peter that he isn't located anywhere near Vicente's lands - then perhaps he'd have at least a little bit of a desire to take advantage of this himself. But as things are, what would be the point? If he did anything, no doubt Britain would suddenly decide to not ignore the situation, and he certainly doesn't have the resources in the area to handle that. Add the fact that he actually is grateful to not still be floating on that bit of plane debris, and he can honestly say that he has absolutely no reason to do any harm here.

Well, except for one possible reason, but what the younger nation rambles about next indicates that reason isn't valid either. "N-Neutral?" he asks in surprise, "So you w-won't try to hand me o-over to the Alliance?" Well, that's a good twist of fortune for you! Probably the only neutral spot anywhere nearby that he could have landed in too. "My d-day is getting b-better," he remarks to himself.

When the other nation pulls out a radio, he mostly ignores the conversation - it doesn't sound very important, and he certainly doesn't mind having the moment to mull some things over himself. By the time they're tied and in position, he's finished off the hot chocolate and that much closer to being thawed out than he was before - in fact, he's not really shivering very much anymore.

There's a part of him that regrets not considering alternatives to climbing the ladder, but he's certainly not going to say so. He knows he can make it, it will just be very... unpleasant is all. Fortunately, the other nation gives him something to distract him from that thought. At first as it's explained why he should go first, it's easy to see that he's trying to decide whether or not to be insulted, but when Peter goes on to explain about the dampness, he suddenly laughs. Shaking his head, he continues to look amused as he sets aside the blanket and compress - somewhat reluctantly, but he's sure they have more such things at the top and they'd get in his way - and he grabs hold of the ladder. "I may not be used to the cold, but the wet? You do not know what wet is," he states.

As he begins to climb up the ladder, it becomes more obvious just how hurt he still is. Progress is very slow, because though he's able to hang on to the ladder without obvious difficulty actually gaining height is more of a problem - only one of his legs is really up to the task, which is a sign of internal injuries to the core of his body. And he also needs to stop frequently to catch his breath, but aside from some pained expressions that he can't help he doesn't offer a word of complaint. He said he was going to climb the ladder, and he meant it, after all.

In fact, he uses explaining about why the dampness of the ladder isn't a problem as a way to distract himself from what he's doing. "Half of my territory is tropical rainforest - the Amazon. It rains pretty much everyday there all summer - that is wet. And all you need when it's wet is a good grip - use your strength instead of trusting your fingers not to slide and keep your feet and your weight centered so that they don't slip," he states, even as he shows that he's able to do what he's explaining. And strength is something he has in abundance - or at least way more of it than he's used to. That's been one of the perks of the war - his allies want him to be strong so that he can be a better ally.

Even as he's showing off his damp-ladder-climbing-while-injured skills, however, the wind and temperature start to get to him and he eventually goes quiet so that he can concentrate on getting up to where he presumes he can find the comfort of the indoors - he's about had it with being outdoors in this climate.

As the little nation goes on to describe some of the others like him, though Vicente is clearly paying close attention he's quite obviously both intrigued and puzzled by what he's hearing. The internet? An apartment building? How are these things nations? And a nation small enough to act as a human? He has no idea how to respond to any of that, though, so he simply shakes his head and states, "You know so many interesting people I do not." But he supposes that if you're that small, it's nice to still have peers to befriend so that you don't feel alone too. He himself doesn't have the benefit of knowing very many nations he would call 'peers', but that's another story.

As the younger nation starts to wonder out loud about how to get Vicente elsewhere, he's quick to frown. "I don't know either, but I'd rather not have it be Russia - he's not my most favorite of allies. He's more of an ally of an ally," he admits, though he has trouble thinking of anyone better in this part of the world. Thinking of which... "Perhaps I can think of someone else to help but first I need a map - I don't know where we are, exactly," he admits, and that could have a profound impact on things. He knows that he's probably pretty surrounded by Alliance nations, but which ones and how deep in enemy territory is he? He got pretty turned around during the chase and he never really cared to pay that close of attention to European geography in the first place.

When the other nation starts to ramble about how dumb the war is, Vicente can't help but frown. "'You all'? I don't see why you're lumping me in with all of these other nations - I think that this war is dumb too! If Israel wasn't so quick to point fingers, none of this would have had to have happened! I don't really even care about how the war goes around here - though of course I do hope my allies succeed," he says, shrugging and looking fairly unconcerned about it all.

But then his manner seems to turn around completely, his voice becomes much more passionate, as he adds, "The only reason why I'm in it is because Brazil is a two-faced gilipollas and declared war on me for no reason - and I needed more weapons in order to defend myself and to teach the appropriate lesson of respect. Which were easier to get as an ally in the Joint Pact." Of course, if you were to ask Brazil it was Vicente who started it. And Colombia and especially Guyana would be very quick to agree.

In fact, pretty much all of the Alliance and perhaps even many in the Joint Pact would say that it was all Vicente's fault that the war came to South America. He's definitely one of the nations that is 'part of the problem' when it comes to negotiating peace - it's not that he wouldn't accept the idea of talking it out, but it would be hard to convince him that this or that settlement is better than punching everyone he's mad at in the face. Especially now that he's already been resorting to violence in this matter.

Perhaps it's a good thing that so shortly after remembering his anger at his neighbors he has all the effort of the ladder to distract him. That and the little chat about who knows more about being wet. "Touche," he replies as the little nation mentions his own relationship with water, but he's quick to add, "But is there not a difference between living in it and having it dumped on you?" Yes, he's pretty sure that he has a solid case. And in spite of the pain that he's trying so hard to forget, he sounds amused at the idea of someone complaining about weather as a hobby. "There is so much rain in my country, complaining about it would be like complaining about the dirt," he remarks.

But even that amusement can only help him for so long before what he's doing starts getting to him physically. He's tired, he's cold, and he's in a lot more pain than he's letting on. But he's also too close to the top to give up, so he keeps going. By the time he pulls himself off of the ladder, he's barely able to stand and his shivering has started again. But he made it, and he's not falling over - that's what's important. And when the other nation joins him, he says no words but gives him a look that's at once triumphant about the feat of getting himself up without any help at all, and too proud to actually say the words but please can he get taken somewhere he can get warm and rest now?

"Sweden..." Vicente says the name to himself as he considers it, though his face shifts into a troubled frown as he comments, "I don't know how at all to feel about Sweden. I know he's supposed to be neutral, but I don't think that he likes the Joint Pact very much..." Or anything else, for that matter, if that omnipresent frown is anything to judge by. The man gives him the creeps, though he won't admit to that out loud. Then again, is he better or worse than Russia? ...Perhaps it's better to avoid both if he has another option. "And who is this 'Lad' you are talking about?" he has to asks, not really following along - it doesn't help that the kid keeps mentioning all these people he either doesn't know or barely knows.

Perhaps he'll have a few ideas of his own if he can just get himself oriented. He's not too ashamed of himself for being lost - it was his pilot's job to know where they were, not his. Besides, who even cares about the details of European geography? "Suffolk? Where is that?" he asks immediately, having absolutely no idea. But though he's upset enough to have gotten into his situation that he's frankly glad that the men who put him into it are dead, he does feel a need state, for the record, "My pilot went a little off course, and when we were trying to escape from the plane that went after us, we went a lot off course. Clearly you've never been in a dogfight before." Because if he had, he'd know these things happen. Or at least, Vicente assumes so - much of this was a first for him.

The assurance that it will all be fine gets a skeptical look, but Vicente says nothing. As far as he's concerned, he'll go along with the little nation's ideas if they seem like a better idea than his own, and only then. The only reason why he won't outright shoot them down now is that he doesn't yet have any of his own ideas. And who knows, perhaps they'll turn out to have some usable elements to them once he's better looked things over himself.

Hearing the other nation say that the war is the fault of both sides causes him to frown and point out, "This is war, not a dance - what was I supposed to do? Surrender?" Hah! Like he'd ever do that! Though when the young nation says they shouldn't argue, his frown instantly turns into an honest look of surprise. "We were arguing?" he asks, because he certainly wouldn't have applied that word to their conversation. "I thought that we were only... having a discussion, I guess," he says, now looking puzzled. There's a fine line between those two, he supposes, but he's still surprised that the boy thought that they were on the other side of it than he did.

A thought that makes him uncomfortable, so indeed the ladder is a nice distraction. Well, 'nice' is relative - in his opinion the ladder could stand to be shorter, instead of soul-crushingly long. Of course, if he weren't so injured then it wouldn't have been such a problem. Still, when told that he should rest when he finally reaches the top, he hesitates to admit just how much climbing the ladder took out of him and how desperately in need of that rest he is. But he finally nods and manages to casually say, "It w-was a long and s-stressful flight."