The Asian power seems to float more than walk down the stairs, at least as far as Austria is concerned. But he is a refined and noble nation, capable of masking any glint of appreciation that flickers momentarily in his eyes. But the smooth lines made by the dress-like uniform--Japan had only ever worn Western style clothing on all of their previous outings, perhaps for ease of travel, as on the day of his arrival, or for fear of hurting so delicate an apparel. The smooth lines and pale-pale skin that makes him look like one of his neighbor’s dolls that his beautiful wife has taken an interest in. . .
In a way, he knows what’s going through Hungary’s mind before her hand fully covers her mouth to hide or at least muffle her excited giggles. And Austria himself smiles, thinking that, yes, their guest would look perfectly handsome mounted on one of the house’s walls.
. . . . The image of . . . the image--painting, a portrait . . . perhaps Italy Veneziano could be persuaded to do such a thing, and Japan would oblige out of friendship to them so as not to refuse the asking.
But those were thoughts for another time, another day. Now he was a host and entertainer.
“Ohoyou gozaimasu [good morning {formal}] Austria-san, Hungary-san.” Japan is polite as always and it makes the host nations smile. He will not even ask what it is that they plan to do for the day, simply accept whatever activities are suggested to him.
There are many activities he would like to suggest, most of which involve his wife. But Austria is too distracted by the tempo comodo Japan strikes with the beat of his footfalls to speak of them, and Hungary has already made plans weeks in advance. They will not want for entertainment for many nights if she has her way.
“Jó reggelt,” His auburn haired wife sings out, and it is a moment more before he adds in a morning greeting of his own.
If Kiku noticed the hesitation, it’s lost in the colorful rush of sounds as Elizaveta taps over to his side, taking sharp interest in his chosen costume. She pries for details, learning the name for every piece of her new obsession, and how it’s sewn together, what the importance of each layered article is, that men’s dressings have different parts than for a woman. The cool tones intrigue her, and Japan only smiles softly as he allows himself to be displayed. His wife’s eyes are quick, sweeping, always on the move to catch some new detail. But Japan’s eyes are bright too, his gaze is steady, but he is just as aware of the little details around him as they are.
Austria turns on his heel, hiding his own amusement. “When you are both quite done, shall we break our fasting together?”
Swift as a sparrow, but warbling like a nightingale, Hungary laughs as she chases after him, Kiku gracefully sweeping behind. ~ ~ ~ Because Austria has so much history to offer--musical and social--he spends the next few days weaving them together in a conflagration of sound and passion. Hungary’s stories are part of the tapestry woven by words and Japan is reserved as always, drinking in the news.
The woody-brunet is happy to talk and willing to listen, but his guest is so demure that he doesn’t feel the pressing need to change the flow of dialogue. So it falls to his talented wife to speak up and coax action from moonstone hands. A graceful blush rises to Japan’s cheekbones, and he moves to hide his surprised reaction in the sleeve of his dress--red with gold, and a delightful hint of magenta peeking out by the collar today.
Austria watches the action and wonders for a moment. Something in him yearns to match his orchestra to Japan’s impending musical choice and yet it would be crass of him to not hear the nation play alone. Maybe later his voice will sing out with Hungary’s as they--
Now it is his turn to hide behind his teacup, and his wife’s knowing eyes already sparkle in delight.
“Ah, yes,” Japan dips his head down, casting his eyes to the floor, “if you would give me but a moment to retrieve one of my musical instruments from the bedroom you’ve let me occupy, I would gladly play a selection for you.”
“Only if you would not mind such a thing.” Rumbles Roderich.
{WIP} Cultural Exchange: Classical is Relative p4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-11 09:07 am (UTC)(link)In a way, he knows what’s going through Hungary’s mind before her hand fully covers her mouth to hide or at least muffle her excited giggles. And Austria himself smiles, thinking that, yes, their guest would look perfectly handsome mounted on one of the house’s walls.
. . . . The image of . . . the image--painting, a portrait . . . perhaps Italy Veneziano could be persuaded to do such a thing, and Japan would oblige out of friendship to them so as not to refuse the asking.
But those were thoughts for another time, another day. Now he was a host and entertainer.
“Ohoyou gozaimasu [good morning {formal}] Austria-san, Hungary-san.” Japan is polite as always and it makes the host nations smile. He will not even ask what it is that they plan to do for the day, simply accept whatever activities are suggested to him.
There are many activities he would like to suggest, most of which involve his wife. But Austria is too distracted by the tempo comodo Japan strikes with the beat of his footfalls to speak of them, and Hungary has already made plans weeks in advance. They will not want for entertainment for many nights if she has her way.
“Jó reggelt,” His auburn haired wife sings out, and it is a moment more before he adds in a morning greeting of his own.
If Kiku noticed the hesitation, it’s lost in the colorful rush of sounds as Elizaveta taps over to his side, taking sharp interest in his chosen costume. She pries for details, learning the name for every piece of her new obsession, and how it’s sewn together, what the importance of each layered article is, that men’s dressings have different parts than for a woman. The cool tones intrigue her, and Japan only smiles softly as he allows himself to be displayed. His wife’s eyes are quick, sweeping, always on the move to catch some new detail. But Japan’s eyes are bright too, his gaze is steady, but he is just as aware of the little details around him as they are.
Austria turns on his heel, hiding his own amusement. “When you are both quite done, shall we break our fasting together?”
Swift as a sparrow, but warbling like a nightingale, Hungary laughs as she chases after him, Kiku gracefully sweeping behind.
~ ~ ~
Because Austria has so much history to offer--musical and social--he spends the next few days weaving them together in a conflagration of sound and passion. Hungary’s stories are part of the tapestry woven by words and Japan is reserved as always, drinking in the news.
The woody-brunet is happy to talk and willing to listen, but his guest is so demure that he doesn’t feel the pressing need to change the flow of dialogue. So it falls to his talented wife to speak up and coax action from moonstone hands. A graceful blush rises to Japan’s cheekbones, and he moves to hide his surprised reaction in the sleeve of his dress--red with gold, and a delightful hint of magenta peeking out by the collar today.
Austria watches the action and wonders for a moment. Something in him yearns to match his orchestra to Japan’s impending musical choice and yet it would be crass of him to not hear the nation play alone. Maybe later his voice will sing out with Hungary’s as they--
Now it is his turn to hide behind his teacup, and his wife’s knowing eyes already sparkle in delight.
“Ah, yes,” Japan dips his head down, casting his eyes to the floor, “if you would give me but a moment to retrieve one of my musical instruments from the bedroom you’ve let me occupy, I would gladly play a selection for you.”
“Only if you would not mind such a thing.” Rumbles Roderich.