This is the Sun Setting Upon Us [Austria]

[Spain]

Under the tree, a sizable shade fell upon the figure laying under it, lost to the chirps of the birds who flew above him. The gentle breeze combed through the chocolate brown hair, feathering against Antonio Fernandez Carriedo’s olive skin. His breathing was even, a rare incident nowadays – it was a lot of work to build an empire, a chore to defend it from predators, and constant heartbreak whenever someone made off with a piece of it. The restless nights spent reminiscing those losses and frustrating concessions resulting from humiliating defeat had finally taken a toll on him. Despite his handsome features, the skin under his eyes was discolored, darker than the rest of his skin while it was evident that he had lost quite a bit of weight.

Moments later, the closed eyes slowly opened, revealing an olive green underneath. The man sat up and looked around him, his eyes only half open as he yawned lazily. Reaching up towards the sky, he stretched himself – sleeping in this position had caused his muscles to tense. It would be sore for another moment as he leaned back lazily, watching the clouds go by slowly. The weather today had been fair, which made it better. He had been holed up in the house as if under house arrest, looking outdoors longingly.

Sighing, the Spaniard closed his eyes again and leaned his head against the tree trunk again. Though he was relaxed only a moment ago, his mind had already switched over to focusing on the tasks that he still needed to do. Though unpleasant, he knew that it still needed to be taken care of. Yes, today he would have to meet with that man. It had been a while since he had met Roderich for anything, both of them had worked to stay on their respective side of the Habsburg empire as much as necessary. After all, he had enough issues on his own and it was bad enough that he was always dragged into the affairs of the Austrians whenever a major conflict broke out – they always needed something, like funding and would never hesitate to take it from one of his colonies.

But their circumstances have changed. They were going to carve his house up, taking the parts that they wanted. Antonio chuckled as he pushed off the tree and walked towards the house, but there was no mirth in it at all.
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- I figured casual setting was best, though yeah. I'll probably come back and expand on his thoughts on Austria, but I wanted to get you something so that you know what will happen.

[austria]

The carriage ride to Antonio's home was a fairly long one, out of the city and down dusty roads into the countryside. It was, Roderich thought amidst the steady clatter of the wheels and thudding of the horses' hooves, almost eerily peaceful there, past the crumbling walls of town and the streets still black with soot. The forests and fields seemed timeless, untouchable, and if not for the ache of his bruises and the lingering pain of recent cuts, if not for the folded documents in his lap, he could almost forget what business he had here. He could almost pretend that this would be a pleasant visit.

It was never pleasant when these matters turned personal.

He laid back, resting his head against the padded seat, one silk-gloved hand resting on the paperwork and the other picking idly at a button of his waistcoat. If there was one thing that he believed, it was that these sorts of meetings ought to be conducted in all seriousness, without extraneous concerns and grudges getting in the way. He for one could manage that end--he didn't have anything particularly against Antonio, nor the man's country, and as far as he was concerned this was little more than a transaction. He did have some feelings of friendship for him, true, but those were irrelevant and he could set them aside as easily as an empty cup of tea. He had done it before, when it had become clear that the balance of power would risk tipping to France if Austria did not force one of her own onto the Spanish throne. He had turned his back on Antonio and nodded cold assent to the Austrian army, watching them go forth and ravage the land.

It had been necessity to him--a simple analysis of spheres of influence, a protective measure on the part of his nation. He hoped Antonio would understand. He had to help divide the map, if only to keep his people prosperous and safe. He did much prefer doing it solely through discussion and peaceful give-and-take, but sometimes one had to ensure peace through warfare, counterintuitive as it seemed.

Oh, if only he would understand. Antonio had embraced similar measures himself, hadn't he? He ought to see the logic in Roderich's perspective.

As the carriage rolled to a stop and the driver stepped down to open the door, Roderich stiffened, compulsively adjusting his posture, lifting his defenses. He rose and stepped out, blinking in the light. Raising a hand, he tilted his tricorne down a bit and strode down the path to the door, quelling any hesitation as he reached for the knocker.

He brought it down--once, twice--and waited.

[Spain]

Whatever was going on in the house was long ignored by Antonio as he continued to rest under the tree. That is, until a young servant peeked out of the house and walked briskly towards him. "Senor Fernandez," she said quietly, "you have a visitor here." The announcement caused the Spaniard to turn to her, looking hat her with curiosity. He had not been expecting any guests so soon, or at least, he was certain that the agreed date was sometime at the end of the week. His olive green eyes reflected the surprise in his eyes and a small frown formed on his lips. But regardless, he stood up quietly, stretching his body as he reached for the sky before letting out a lazy yawn.

"A visitor?" he echoed as he covered his mouth and apologized silently, "well, I guess it beats waiting in anticipation of what they might talk about during negotiations." With that, he fixed his jacket, though he fiddled with the sleeve idly as he made his way back to the house. It was one of the few homes that the Spanish monarchy owned and used as a sort of lodge during their travels, though Antonio had gotten more use out of the house than all of the monarchs he had served combined. They were often too busy, challenged with the fact that there was never enough time to accomplish everything.

Though the appearance of the house had not changed over the centuries, the interior had done so to match the trends of the ages. The Spaniard could not say that he enjoys the overly floral detail on himself, he would admit to liking some of the details that were included in the paintings and in the furniture. On the other hand, Antonio had made it a point to keep some of the details of the past owner in the themes of the house -- he had always been sentimental when it came to remember all that he had considered family in the past.

Well, at least of his own people.

Soon, after passing through a couple long hallways, the dining room and the parlor, Antonio fond himself standing in the foyer area, seeing a very familiar face. Despite his reluctance to express extreme happiness in seeing him, the Spaniard at least offered a smile as he went in and embraced him. "Buenos tardes," he greeted the man warmly, "you must be tired from your trip."

[Sorry for the late response, work had been crazy as I got stuff dumped on me.]

[austria]

Roderich managed a smile in return--a small, polite one, rather like the faint smiles painted into the portraits of people who wanted to look more haughty than personable. He went a bit rigid in the embrace, circling his arms about Antonio to just barely hug him back. He'd never much been one for displays of affection, and the years of being allied with the man hadn't quite torn that awkwardness from him. Especially in situations like this.

"I'm fine," he said. It was a half-truth. He wasn't all that exhausted from the journey itself--he had gotten better at napping in the carriage during the longer stretches of travel, as well as at forcing himself to head to bed at a decent hour before the day of departure in lieu of finishing some speech or letter to such-and-such a magistrate--but the war still weighed heavily on him. His wounds were mostly beneath his clothes, thank goodness. Those he could hide. He couldn't do better than a conservative layer of blanc to combat the sunkenness of his cheeks.

Antonio was looking rather worse for wear too, though, so he couldn't feel too twitchy about it. Besides, he wasn't here to prove himself.

"I have a few matters I would like to discuss with you," he told him, retreating from his grasp. "I thought it might be best to do so prior to your meeting with the others."

More merciful, really. It was one thing to have one's land teased apart by one nation, another entirely to have it divided amongst many. If he could work out some of Austria's claims now, it would be easier for him and less humiliating for Antonio, at least in theory.