The Kids' Table {Severin}

[Laharl Krichevskoy]

The cafeteria here wasn't all that different from the Netherworld. People were all divided up into their little groups, their cliques. And each group was most certainly ready and willing to protect each other at the slightest hint of trouble... and they were just as willing to stab you in the back with just the slightest bit of provocation. That palpable, barely trusting sensation hovered in the air, nearly thick enough to be apparent. Okay, so maybe it wasn't quite as thick as Laharl would like it to be, but it was most certainly there. People were still nervous about the whole Shifting thing, and, for the most part, they'd grouped together, like unto like, with the hope of seeking comfort in one another.

Except Laharl.

Which suited him just fine. He was better than most of them anyway, so he certainly didn't need to sit with somebody in order to feel more important. If anything, they should want to sit with him. He was the Great Laharl, the powerful Overlord of the Netherworld! Who else could claim such an impressive title? Laharl had even fought for that title, earning it in blood. It was with this confidence that he approached a table filled with people who looked easily as strong as Laharl himself, and he plunked down. Within moments, he found himself ejected, mostly by a relatively strong guy who picked him up by the scarf, insisting that they really weren't interested. Laharl sputtered but really, there wasn't much he could do. He was all too aware that he'd been reduced to a level one character, title or no.

So, grumbling, he searched out a table that he could lord his authority over. He eventually found one, one that contained only one person, and that person looked very meek and kiddish, even looking younger than Laharl. With little aplomb, Laharl plopped his tray on the table, dragged out a seat, and collapsed in it. The motion caused his unhealthy meal to shift. The Jello jiggled.

"You are in the presence of the great Laharl, Overlord of the Netherworld!" announced the great Laharl, Overlord of the Netherworld. "And you should be grateful."

Which was soon followed by a heavy look, one that suggested that groveling would be much appreciated.

[Deleted]

So... This was a cafeteria... He had heard some people talk about it in the halls--not that he was eavesdropping, he was just listening as he walked--and he was curious as to this mysterious cafeteria place where you were given food. Overall? He wasn't impressed. It was overly crowded, there weren't enough tables or chairs, it was far too loud, the walls were an atrocious color, and the stench was almost as bad as the streets of Europe. He missed the large palaces of his Emperor's, the long table where only the court and the royal family ate at, and the plentiful meals.

With a sigh, the blond waited through the long line that seemed to lead towards the source of the glorious school food. He had heard some students give their compliments to the chef, but he wasn't sure if they were joking or not. After about ten long minutes of wasting his valuable time in the line, he finally had his food and was heading towards the nearest, empty table. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found a table suitable to his likings: empty and relatively clean. The child slipped into one of the hard, blue, plastic chairs and placed his tray on the table.

His bag was discarded beside his chair as the boy took to staring at the tray with mild curiosity and disgust--mainly disgust. There was what looked like some sort of meat, some vegetables that looked like they had been picked before the harvest rolled around, a carton of what read low-fat milk, and some sort of foreign food item that was transparent and jiggled with each nudge of his tray. Picking up his fork, the boy poked at the unknown substance, his glare narrowing as the strange piece of food continued to dance. He was not amused.

There was movement, the clatter of plastic against the table, the screech of metal against the floor, and then the rustling of fabric as someone sat down. Shifting his attention from the unknown cafeteria food, he placed his fork back on his tray and simply stared at the new comer. He looked around his age--apparent age, that is--though he hadn't seen him in any of his classes. The blond listened to the boy, arching a pale eyebrow at the boy when he announced himself. He reminded him of the Prussian Empire, only smaller. If that was the case, then he might as well treat the boy the same way, only without the whole brother relation.

He leaned back in his chair, fixing a cold, unamused stare on the brunette. Overlord of the Netherworld? He had heard of kings, queens, lords, dictators, and emperors, but never had he heard of an overlord. This sparked some interest, but he would save questions for later. For now, he had to introduce himself. "Salve, Overlord Laharl. You are in the presence of the Holy Roman Empire, but you may call me Serevin."

[Laharl Krichevskoy]

"The Holy Roman Empire?" repeated Laharl, nearly sneering the words. He cocked a brow. He actually recognized the bit of other language that had slid in there; he seemed to dimly recall a human using it many years ago. That human hadn't lasted long though; Laharl's father had dealt with him easily enough. The young Overlord shifted now, eying the other boy with a slightly more calculating look.

"Did you have to assassinate anybody to get your position?" he asked, his voice slightly challenging. He sneered slightly. "My old man kicked it before I was able to seize my throne. Then I had to fight off a bunch of pretenders."

He stabbed the food on his tray, hitting hard enough to make the plastic jump. In one smooth motion, he dragged the food to his mouth, shoved it in, and ate. His mouth opened with each bite, treating Severin with a view of everything that Laharl masticated, and it most certainly was not a pleasant view. Laharl didn't even seem to swallow: he grabbed his drink, which was soda, though you'd be hard placed to identify it further, and slugged it down. What followed was a burp most impressive.

And when Laharl finished performing all this, he gave Severin a grin that could only be cocky.

[Deleted]

"Yes, the Holy Roman Empire," the blond repeated with a sigh. He tugged at the long sleeves of one of the many shirts he had been given among arrival to the estates. He was thankful they gave him long sleeved shirts, but the material was far different from what he was used to. The clothing tended to be brighter as well with colors normally only seen when one went to a high class party. He had become so accustomed to darker colors of blacks and browns that he felt rather out of place in any other color.

He couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at the question shot at him. The other boy, this Overlord, seemed to be challenging him with his words, and he honestly didn't want to accept any challenges that might be thrown out. "Assassinations were not needed as I am the embodiment of the empire itself. If we come under another's control, then we merely move into the house of our new ruler." And do a ton of unnecessary chores, like become maids or servants, but that wasn't needed. "What are pretenders?"

He watched in boredom as the boy inhaled his food. This child seemed to be a bottomless pit, and his table manners were ghastly. "I've seen worse." He mumbled to himself, glancing over at his own tray with distaste. If it didn't include wurst or potatoes, he honestly didn't want anything to do with it. Fixing his gaze back on Laharl, he quickly noted that everything on the boy's plate was gone. He wasn't surprised. If anything, this child should try having an eating contest against his brother, Italy, and America. That would be something he wouldn't want to miss or get caught in the middle of.

[Laharl Krichevskoy]

Laharl paused in his inhaling and  considered the young "nation." He... actually was the country? Laharl had heard and seen some strange things, but that assertion struck him as being particularly... odd. It was like if someone walked up to him and insisted that he was the Netherworld...

Actually, come to think of it, Laharl was pretty sure he'd met someone who did precisely that.

For now he swallowed a massive mouthful of food, the bulge of it showing in his throat as he fought to get it down. When he finished, he focused his attention upon Severin with decidedly more focus than he'd shown moments before. "So you're actually your country? That's messed up! What if I decide to rip your head off or something? Does that mean that the entire..." Laharl paused, gesturing with one hand while he tried to remember what country he was apparently talking to, "the entire... Holy... Roaming Empire would just disappear?"

Because that would make taking things over much, much easier. Laharl paused again, giving Severin a look that was decidedly calculating. "and you mean that if I drag you into my house, I conquer you?"

Oh, taking over the world would be ever so easy if that was all it took... Laharl was already grinning at the idea, clenching his silverware in a white-knuckled grip that was sure to start bending or breaking the metal soon.

[Deleted]

This overlord didn't have the best table manners in the world. Had he been an overlord or an adviser to the overlord, he would have taught him how to properly use a fork and eat without churning the stomachs of those in their presence. The boy sighed, turning his attention away from the other child's tray. He couldn't stomach to watch anymore. At least he wasn't eating with his hands.

His gaze narrowed at the questions. He had just said he was the empire, and Laharl was still questioning that? He didn't seem to understand the blond's point. Scooting his chair closer to the table, cringing at the sound of metal scraping against the ground, he nudged his tray forwards, not having the appetite. "Yes, I actually am my empire. No, ripping my head off would not cause the Holy Roman Empire to disappear." As far as he knew, at least. He had never been decapitated before.

"A mere human or whatever you might be cannot kill a nation; however, I'm not going to tell you how to kill one." It was obvious: you had to be a nation yourself. That was the only way to be murdered. The only other way to die was to have your empire collapse and have no way to support yourself. One would soon fade into nothing and sing up in the sky like Rome did. Shaking the thought away, he turned his gaze from the table to Laharl once more.

"It's not a matter of dragging a nation to your house." He frowned, wondering why this child would want to know all this, anyway. "You have to go through the process of war and then conquering the nation. Once you've taken over, it's then that the embodiment of the nation is forced to live in the house of the embodiment of the ruling nation." He really shouldn't be explaining this, but he had no other choice until the lunch period ended.

[Laharl Krichevskoy]

At this point, it is probably best to point out that Laharl really isn't
the best listener in the world. Just in case that wasn't already
readily apparent. Oh, he was smarter than he appeared at first, actually
smarter than he let on,  but he had the single-minded frame of mind
that made swaying him from a particular train of thought practically
impossible. All this explained why, when Severin reiterated his position
as an embodiment of a nation, Laharl switched to only half listening.
Oh, he was fully aware that Severin had kept talking and explaining, but
Laharl was also nearly as aware that people lied. They lied a lot. And
what else would someone do when you casually mentioned murdering them?

Lie. Of course.

"So...
a person is a nation," repeated Laharl. Severin was going on about how
to properly kill a nation and all, but Laharl, again, was only half
paying attention. "Which mean that if I harass you... I harass your
nation. Ha, ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaa!"

The laughter picked up steadily in volume, and Laharl's mouth opened almost cavernously wide. He leaned back on his chair, as though this level of laughing would require the fullest amount of room possible. He might not have all his demonic powers, but apparently in this strange world... he could have power, and this fool had just given him the key!

"AHAHAHAAAAAAAA!"

Yeah, he was probably going to continue that for a while. You gotta feel for Severin, really.

[Deleted]

Severin groaned, slumping his shoulders in defeat. While he may be able to handle Prussians and their horribly short attention spans, he wasn't too sure about humans or whatever Laharal is. Narrowing his gaze at the boy, he let out an irritated breath through his nose. There was a headache forming in the back of his head just by listening to this boy's voice. And his laughing. The blond scooted his chair away from the table, standing up without even touching his food.

He was ready to leave, whether the overlord would left him or not. He would probably go to the nurse's office. Yeah, that sounded good--lay down for a bit, wait until his headache went away... That seemed like a great idea. He let out another sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. "You won't be able take over any nation around." Severin grabbed the strap of his bag, slipping it onto his shoulder.

[Laharl Krichevskoy]

Laharl continued laughing even as Severin scooted, not quite noticing. However, he came to a stop, a slow stop, as the other boy rose. Laharl eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and sadness. There was, perhaps, just perhaps, a slight, very slight, pang in Laharl's chest at the fact that he'd just more or less shoved off the only person here who seemed to at least be near his age. He felt that ping very quickly turn ablaze, making his chest nearly hot.

"Where do you think you're going? I didn't say you could leave!" protested Laharl. He slapped his hand onto the table and narrowed his eyes. "Besides, where else do you think you're going to go? the place is full, remember? Nobody wants to sit with you," probably a lie; nobody wanted to sit with Laharl. "So just sit back down and eat already."

Laharl punctuated his own remark by shoving a great helping of food into his mouth. He chewed most magnificently, but somehow managed to more or less keep his mouth closed this time. He still narrowed his eyes in a nearly threatening manner toward Severin, suggesting that sitting down would probably be the best option for continued health. Just one little blast, and he'd teach this kid for being rude...

[Deleted]

He rolled his eyes, letting out an impatient sigh. He should be used to such treatment by now. This was a world in which he was the underdog, after all. He liked it better when he was treated higher than most, when he was beside the Holy Roman Emperor. At least then he didn't have to listen to such nonsense. Even his brother tended to be even the slightest bit more tolerable. Maybe it was just the headache. He's had a lot of those lately, probably from trying to comprehend the new time period and all its advances.

He looked over his shoulders, blue eyes narrowed into a frightening glare that even trained soldiers flinched under. "I do not need your permission." Adjusting the strap on his shoulder, he began to walk away, still calling over his shoulder. "I never said I was switching tables." It was with that he promptly left, slipping into the empty hallways to make an attempt at finding the infirmary.

ooc: he can only take so much. |D

[Laharl Krichevskoy]

[it's cool; Laharl's fairly lazy, so we'll probably call it an end here.]

"My--- of course you--" sputtered Laharl. he watched as Severin packed up his things, flinging that bag over his shoulder and generally looking put out. Laharl's teeth ground together, the rage bubbling up within. How dare he treat an Overlord in this manner? Then again, Severin was supposedly a country of some kind. Sure, a country was less than a Netherworld, but Laharl supposed it explained something. Not that he was stopping to think about that all that much.

"Fine," spat Laharl, returning to eat his food with gusto, "who needs you anyway? I prefer eating alone anyway."

he slammed his hand down, then leaned back, barking a quick laugh. Laharl finished by turning, only to see that Severin had left, probably before Laharl had finished sputtering. Laharl glared at the retreating back. Oh, it would be almost too much fun to kidnap him, really... and take over the... the Holy Roman Empire. Yeah, Emperor Laharl had a nice ring to it. Laharl smiled as the thought crossed his mind. Emperor Laharl. Yeah...

And the Overlord ate pudding, relishing his daydreams and pretending that he didn't mind being left along at the lunch table... again.