There is a letter, front and center, on the stage. A spotlight shines down on it.
“Hello, theater employees.
I have a present for you, if you would be so kind as to accept it! I can’t say ‘gift,’ that is uch too pompous.
This idea, ou see, is a pet project of mi e. I call it 'Hetalia,’ fter the na e of the theater and the role your current boss will hop fully fill! It has no set time or place, for t is the story of our world’s hi tory told through the eyes of the Nations. The phrase 'Nations’ eyes’ being rather literal, in fact, for the Nations shall be represented by a person The vibe t e countries give off, the way other cultures see them, the way t eir people see themselves… all of these condensed into humanoid form!
These are all at least partly inspired by people in the theater or throughout the city. I do hope that you will find them all and bring them here to audition!
Don’t let me down! I will leave a character sheet or two along with each of these letters.
P.S. The code is missing. Initially, this should not be a problem.”
A second letter rests under the first.
“Italy (Veneziano/North, used interchangeably). 20s. Tenor. Little to no modesty. Hopeful, sweet, and a bit too tender for his job. Befriends as many people as he can and depends on them all. Easily moved to tears and surrender. Proof that it may not be bad to be bad at being bad. Italy is either relaxed and breezy or has "no chill.” Massive energy somehow presented in a relaxing way, much like the strangely high sugar content in gelato. Uniform, World Conference, and Off Time costume sketches attached.“
A paper clipped to the description sheets are the aforementioned sketches: a bright blue uniform, a casual striped shirt with dress pants, and a relaxed vaguely Renaissance poet-inspired outfit. His hair always has one gravity-defying curl to the viewer’s right.
