Hercules and Atlas [England]

[[x] Spain]

[EDGAF. LATIN IS TAKING OVER MY BRAIN. NOW I WANT TO REFERENCE EVERY CLASSICAL PIECE OF LITERATURE FROM THE GREEKS AND ROMANS. And you know what, I'm bored and putting it here. XD]

A frustrated groan echoed in the empty kitchen.

Spain's frustrated groan.

Very rarely was he frustrated - since he was always a very patient person - but this was infuriating him. He couldn't think of a single thing to make for dinner.

He had debated going to the other groundskeepers or other nations for ideas, but he thought he would be able to do this on his own and that he'd be fine.

Boy, was he wrong.

He didn't want to repeat anything they had, but he was starting to run out of ideas since they had limited meats to use. The only thing he had was fish since it was easily available, but that didn't mean he had a million different recipies.

But as he was wracking his brain for something, he got himself distracted by a sudden thought. As a groundskeeper, he was supposed to be doling out chores, but he didn't do that much; England did most of it.

Maybe he should talk to the island nation...

[England]

((Just trying my luck, but.... Is this like... Hercules!Spain to the rescue of Atlas!England, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders? I'm just gonna sit here and make my own hypothesis. Ignore me, I know nothing of Roman and Greek literature ^^; ))

Exhausted, tired of everything, irritated, and most of all hungry, England stalked across the main area of the warehouse, towards the kitchen. Thankfully, most nations seemed to sense his irritation and didn't try to stop him, something he was grateful for. Damn it, he'd been at his work table for hours, trying to compile an analysis on zombies, their effects on the nations, and not knowing what to write. With the new type of zombie that had emerged, his entire report had to be changed accordingly, and since they didn't have much information on them right now, he couldn't write anything constructive.

He also had the budget planning to start, the building and structures to inspect and report on for renovation purposes, and the mid-month inventory to conduct in order to determine what they'd need for their next shipment, amongst other tasks. That, and the blank paper labelled "Progress Report on Project Terra Sigma" at the corner of his desk was glaring at him. It had been glaring at him for the past month or so. And England just didn't know what to do with it.

Perhaps some tea would calm him down and soothe his frazzled nerves enough for him to return to his work. That sounded swell. Maybe then, he'd be able to think with a straight head and tell the government in one of his many reports that face to face with zombies, nations were just as mortal as regular men, so why can't we just abort the project, wait a decade, and then send scouts to the American continent to make sure that all zombies have rotted and disintegrated?

Sometimes, England swore he had better plans than the government itself. But... now wasn't one of those times. He knew they'd been sent for a reason, and he knew that the world wouldn't survive without them. They weren't an option. And as much as he grumbled about it, England couldn't deny the fact that they were important.

Irritation quickly gave place to exhaustion as he opened the door to the kitchen and stepped inside, taking a deep breath to cool his nerves. The first thing he noticed, though, was the distinct lack of smell that indicated that dinner, usually made around this time of the day, was not being cooked. Worry crept into his heart very quickly, and he briefly wondered if anything had gone wrong. Had they exhausted their supplies already? Had the food been bad to start with? Did they not have enough ingredients to serve everybody?

"Spain..." that was the second thing he noticed, the other European nation standing at the side and looking surprisingly irritated as well. That made two of them. "What's going on?"

[[x] Spain]

[\o/ Bingo! You're right!]

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear... Spain thought, turning to face his new arrival who looked far less than pleased with him currently. Not that he could blame him; after all, dinner still wasn't prepare like it normally would at the time.

"Ah, I was working on ideas for what to make for dinner. It seems I've run out." he waved his hand, motioning the brushing aside of the topic. "But don't worry; I figured I'd ask some of the other nations for ideas once I decide I can't scale this wall." he laughed, trying to make the tense atmosphere lighter.

But he knew it wouldn't work, not with England even more serious than he should be.

"By the way..." The Spaniard set down his covered-in-scratchouts notebook and pen and looked at the other curiously. "Are you alright? You seem much more serious than usual and not your normal sarcastic self. I'm almost worried about you."

[England]

"Oh." well, if it wasn't technical, England wasn't concerned. He trusted the nations to be able to take care of mostly everything, and ideas for dinner were the least of his problems for now. "Just pick out cans of tuna, or something. It doesn't have to be fancy, as long as it feeds everyone." None of them could make illusions, they were all aware that they were in a crisis situation, and they were all (hopefully) mature enough to understand why they had to live their lives without the pampering they had before. It was all temporary, though. The sooner they were done, the sooner they could return to living satisfactorily, avoiding midnight surprise attacks and not having to think about what to make everybody for dinner.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine." England grunted softly, waving him off as he walked for the cupboard to look for his tea. "I just have a lot of work on my agenda. That's to be expected, though, I guess. We're not exactly on vacation around here." rifling through the cans and spreads stocked in the cupboard, England gave a triumphant huff when he found his tea and pulled it out. "But I assure you that the work is being done, so there is no need to concern yourself about anything. I'll take care of everything. I'm fine." Tired, frustrated, exhausted, hopeless, but fine.

[[x] Spain]

Spain mused over the option of canned food, but he really wanted to avoid doing that. They had limited amounts of canned food and preferred using fresh anyway... but he'd think of something before resorting to canned. After all, not only is it limited, it's also not very tasty in his opinion. And even though he shouldn't want to sugar coat their situation, at least it would make everyone feel better if they had some tasty food rather than food that resembled rations. "I suppose..."

He paused, listening intently to England and crossing his arms as he watched him pull out the tea. He said he was fine too many times. He didn't like that much. As one who was prone to masking his emotions with a smile, he knew that if someone said 'I'm fine' more than one should... it was a sure sign that there was something else behind it. Plus, the lack of a question on the end bothered him. Normally if someone was really alright, they'd add 'why?' on the end. England didn't.

"I don't believe you." Spain walked past him, helping him out by readying the teapot. "You don't seem like you're fine. And no one can handle everything on their own. That's why we're all here; to help one another. No one should have the burden of doing everything. It's not healthy."

In a strange way, he almost knew exactly what the Brit was going through. The burden of making sure everyone else was happy around you was a heavy one, and was nearly impossible to carry on your own. And he was sure that the burden of doing everything in regards to Project Terra Sigma, the relations back in Europe and just trying to make the situation look hopeful was equal to if not worse than that.

[England]

"No one asked you to believe anything." England huffed irritably, not in the mood for talking. "Believe what you want to believe. I said I was fine." he hoped Spain would let it drop, not too keen on yelling out to the world that he was tired of everything: reports, the warehouse, their missions, and the whole fucking project in general. He just wanted to go home and curl up on his own couch, hug something- anything- and fall asleep to the sound of soft rain drizzling outside on his balcony. But for all he knew, his flat in London was gone as well. Just like everything else he used to have before the infection.
(Including his sanity).

Frustration welled up inside of him. Why, of all times, did Spain have to confront him now, when he was already on edge and irritated?

"There are things I wouldn't trust with other people." he grumbled, unwilling to let the silence give time for Spain to make his own assumptions. "Decisions, reports, and observations that I wouldn't be comfortable with giving to anybody else." his motto in life was that he couldn't trust anybody but himself. And when given the honour (curse) of such a grandiose responsibility, England did not want to mess anything up. If that meant taking all the work to himself, then so be it.

Walking to get the teapot, he noticed that Spain had already brought it out, and he leaned against the counter instead, sighing softly.

"Thanks."

[[x] Spain]

"And I don't believe you when you say you're fine." At least he felt a little better when he huffed and lapsed to his semi-normal self. Without a smile - something rare for him - he moved so he was standing next to him.

"I know you don't trust anyone with really anything, and I understand how you wouldn't want to hand over important things like that, but it wouldn't hurt to vent for a while, or even take a break." With a soft smile, he ruffled the Brit's hair, hoping to get some normal reaction out of him (even if it ended up with him landing on the floor). "Even I have to do that sometimes. It helps. You make better decisions in my opinion~"

Maybe that was the incentive he needed. If it impacted his work... maybe he'll consider opening up a bit. Even if it was to a former enemy and long-standing rival.

"But you know, if you do ever need to talk about something, you know exactly where I am at any given time." Spain joked, hinting that he was like an overprotective mother hen sometimes (which he was to him). "Even if it's just something small, like one sentence, I'll be more than glad to hear it."

[England]

((That would indeed be epic o3o))

England irritably slapped Spain's hand away, grumbling something inaudible about not treating him like a kid, and crossed his arms instead, frowning at him as he spoke.

"I do take breaks. I'm taking one right now." He would love to get the luxury of longer, more meaningful breaks, but hey, since when had life been a field of daisies? "Don't tell me what to do, either. I can take care of myself and my work just fine." Though it was true that he felt much better to start working again after a good night's sleep, he couldn't afford to leave his work for long periods of time. Papers were piling up on his desk by the day, drones dropped and picked up mail from the mailing box on the roof every afternoon at 5:30PM sharp, and emails came flooding into his inbox every day. If he missed out on a single day, or stayed behind on his work, it would start accumulating, and England felt disheartened when he looked at large piles of work like that.

There was a limit to how dedicated someone could be towards their work, even if that someone was workaholic and proud old England.

"I don't need to talk to anyone." he never had, so why should he start now? His issues were his to know and his only. "I just have a lot on my plate, that's all there is to say. Wait until the fiscal year ends in February, I bet the European central government will send paperwork by the ton to all the nations whose governments are in the coalition, and then, we'll see if you think it's that easy to take a break whenever you want."

[[x] Spain]

Spain's already present smile grew just a little bit more when he saw a normal reaction. Perfect. So regular England was still down there somewhere.

And so what if he took breaks? Spain took them too. The only difference being that he didn't have much work to do since a certain someone didn't give him much work and tried to do it himself. At least he was acting more prideful like he should. "Si, but I noticed you don't take very long breaks. And you tend to not give us a lot of work. Is it because you're trying to handle everything on your own? Most of us - excluding the very young nations and micronations like Sealand - are capable of doing something that you're trying to do on your own right now. Give us a chance."

He rolled his eyes, bringing the point right back at him. "Which is why I'm trying to help you now. If you already work hard enough now, with not a lot of pressure, then you're going to be even more swamped in February-" an idea struck him like lightning, cutting off his speech. It was the briefest memory, from centuries, and centuries ago. From the time when Grandpa Rome told him the story of Hercules.

"England, do you know the story of the Twelve Labors of Hercules?" He restarted, leaning against a nearby counter. "More specifically, do you know what the Eleventh Labor was?"

[England]

England just gruffly rubbed the back of his head, ruffling his hair to give his hands something to do, and shrugged.

"You don't need paperwork when you're all fighting already. I rarely go out on missions and expeditions, so I have my work cut out for myself, and you have yours. To each their own." he grumbled lowly, doubting that Spain had even paid attention to him. Of course, he always felt bad when he sent the nations out for a mission and had to stay behind, cowering in the safety of their warehouse while the others were exposed to potentially fatal situations while fighting for all their lives. He went out on expeditions as often as he could so he could give himself an impression of helpfulness, but the fact still remained that he was always working behind the stage, and the other nations had the more physical encounters to deal with. They both had their jobs and their burdens, so a transfer from one side to the other would not only be selfish, it would be unhelpful as well.

He listened to Spain speak through one ear, eyes trained on the teapot, as if hoping it would whistle soon so he could just grab his tea and run. Confrontations never made him comfortable, and he hated being questioned one-on-one. It always made him nervous. And suddenly, Spain stopped, making England turn to face him curiously and listen.

"The... Twelve Labours of Hercules...?" he furrowed his brow, confused as to why Spain would mention that. "I... I know the general gist of the story, but... no, I don't particularly care to recall what the Eleventh Labour was. Why?"

[[x] Spain]

Spain's eyebrows rose questionably. "I'm barely fighting since I'm a Groundskeeper. I have more than enough time to do paperwork." He shrugged, adding one more comment before he dropped the topic and went into his story. "And while it is true you don't go on missions or expeditions, that doesn't mean you're not doing more work than you have to."

He spent a few moments wracking his brain for as many details as possible that he could recall before he leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, conjuring up the memory of the fable as he always would before telling any story.

"As you know in the original tale, Hercules had to complete twelve supposedly impossible tasks - or labors - in order to be forgiven and purified of his most hideous crime of murdering his wife and children. It wasn't his fault though, since a goddess named Hera made him go insane momentarily, but he still felt guilty and had to be ritually purified.

The task I was talking about - the eleventh one - was even more difficult than the previous ones. He had to steal golden apples belonging to Zeus from the Garden of the Hesperides, which was protected by a dragon with one hundred heads called Ladon, and bring them back to King Eurystheus. Even though Hercules was gifted with the incredible strength and power of a god, he couldn't do it on his own.

Yet there was one person he knew would be able to retrieve the apples since he didn't even know where to find them in the first place: Atlas. Atlas was the father of the Hesperides, or the nymphs that protected the garden along with Ladon. Plus, Atlas was even stronger than he was, seeing as he carried the weight of the earth and skies on his shoulders since time began. So the hero sought him out, determined to get his help." He took a long breath, opening his eyes to make sure his audience was still present. "After many months of wandering, Hercules found Atlas standing where he should have been with the world on his shoulders. It took a long while - seeing as how Atlas was a stubborn man - but Hercules eventually got him to trade: If Atlas could get the apples, Hercules would take the world from him.

And so they traded. Of course, in the end, Atlas had to take back his responsibility and Hercules had to complete the task given to him, but can you guess what the moral of the story is?"

The Spaniard pushed off the counter and flicked England's forehead, right in between his eyes. "No one can do everything on their own. Hercules couldn't fight off the dragon and nymphs, so he went to get Atlas' help. Atlas couldn't carry the world forever, so he handed it to Hercules for a while. Even though one was a god and the other a demigod, neither could do everything. The same applies to you, England. It doesn't matter how strong you are, or what your task is - whether it's stealing the golden apples or holding the weight of the world - you can not do it alone. You need to rely on others, especially now. The world rests on all our shoulders, not yours. And if you are so idiotic as to honestly believe you're as strong as the god Atlas, then at least me - or even someone else - play Hercules and take that burden off your shoulders for a little while."

[England]

England couldn't help but listen to him, though his eyes were trained on the teapot. His attention, low at first, was subconsciously all Spain's already halfway through his tale, though he couldn't help but wonder what the link was. Apples and dragons sounded so out of place in what they had just been discussing. Though the tale was enchanting, as all mythology was, England was wondering if there even was a point to it all, or if Spain had dropped their previous subject and was instead making small talk.

He knew of Hercules, and he knew of Atlas, but what did the two have to do with anything?

When Spain finally moved, pushing himself off the counter, England's head whipped to the side, startled by the sudden movement, and tensed when Spain walked towards him, though he didn't move. Cautiously watching his movements, he was slightly taken off guard when Spain flicked his forehead, clutching his forehead in surprise and his eyes widening slightly as he finally saw the link Spain was making with his long story. An embarrassed blush rose to his cheeks, and he turned his head away quickly crossing his arms.

"It's just a story, it doesn't apply to real life." he huffed, unwilling to admit that his story did strike a chord inside of him. "Besides, you're making it sound like I'm actually bearing the weight of the world upon my shoulders, and nothing less. It's honestly not that bad." Just slightly horrible. "I'm no god, and nobody is. I'm trusting you all with your own tasks, and I'm doing mine. I don't need any help." Asking for help, especially after Spain having come so close to the truth, would have been a total disgrace. How could he be so weak, stoop so low as to give into physical limitations, especially after someone had told him to? He would fall with his head held high, and there would be no stopping here.

"I appreciate you trying to entertain me with story time, but I'm already relying on everyone enough as is. We all have our tasks, let's just stick to them. It's working out fine right now, it'll work out fine in the near future as well."

[[x] Spain]

With a roll of his eyes, Spain smirked. "Ah, but you know what makes a myth stay throughout history and transcend all rules that literature like it should have? The simple grain of truth and the deeply human aspect. Those stories do apply to real life; that's why we still have them around."

Ah, so he was close. He could see the weariness in his eyes from when he got close enough to flick his forehead and knew he was somewhat close to the truth. All he had to do was keep pushing. "Don't lie to me, England. Everyone needs help at some point or another." He softened his serious gaze a bit, but not enough to make him smile again. "Although I'm glad you enjoyed that little tale from Grandpa Rome, you still have to remember that what works now might not work later. This world is completely unpredictable and even you have your limits."

He put one hand on the counter next to England and looked at him with worry in his green eyes. "You have to understand, the more you push yourself, the more we - I - worry. You might be good at hiding it from everyone else, but we've shared enough history that I can tell the difference between when you're fine and when you're not. And you're most certainly not fine." He shook his head a little, determined to get to the bottom of this. "Please, England... Right now, you're not relying on anyone at all."

[England]

Growling softly at Spain's tenacity, England took a few steps away from him, opting to go get a mug to put some distance between them. With the previous frustration accumulated inside of him, his situation was doing nothing at all to calm him down, so he figured a mug of tea would be more effective than a cup. That, and it was heavier, and would thus do more damage if he were to throw it at someone.

"Thank you for implying that I cannot complete the tasks given to me on my own, I really appreciate all the faith you put in me. That, and implying that I don't trust anyone." he ground out, ticked by how low Spain's confidence in his abilities seemed to be. If Spain thought that, did everybody else do, too? Did they all think he was incapable of being a good leader? He was trying, for hell's sake! He was trying so hard to meet deadlines and make good decisions, why was it still not satisfactory?

Besides, it wasn't like he didn't trust anyone at all. On the contrary, he had been proud of himself for letting people take command and was satisfied to see that lower command positions were working out, although temporary, like mission leaders, and such. So that hadn't been good enough, either? What had he been working for this entire time, then? Or more importantly: what did everybody want from him?

"Just leave me alone, alright?" Why wouldn't the damn teapot just whistle already!? "For the last time, I am perfectly fine with my routine, and it is getting work done, and it is beneficial for all of us, so if it's working out, then I don't see why it should stop."

[[x] Spain]

Spain sighed, running and hand through his hair. Geeze, why did the Brit have to be so stubborn. "That's not what I'm implying at all. You just misinterpreted everything I've been trying to tell you."

He held his hands up, trying to remedy the situation. He really should've predicted the other's reaction, but Lord knows that's not his strong suit. "What I've been trying to say is that it wouldn't hurt if you let someone else take over for a while. All this stress from all the responsibilities you've taken upon yourself is really getting to you, I can see it. All that I'm trying to do is give you a break. I'm actually reaching out here, trying to help you - which you know I don't do normally - and give you a chance to relax. You need time to let off steam and regain some energy. Besides, if you let someone else handle some menial paperwork - who knows? - you might be able to spend some quality time with your lover." Oh, that might have been a bad choice in words. But it might be the push England needed. Deep down he was a sappy romantic and duh Spain knew he had a lover. It was fairly obvious. He did do most of the laundry after all. He knows what stains are what. And it wouldn't have shocked him anyway if England found someone to rely on. It would've been the perfect way to let off steam in more than one way.