Personified!Moon which NASA then bombs for scientific research. I've added Nation-tan x Moon loving.
A/N: Obviously includes OC Moon.
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“I love June,” said Iceland quietly.
A soft chuckle came from beside him and the white haired youth put his arm around the Icelander’s shoulders.
“Me, too.”
Iceland coloured slightly but he also smiled as he leaned his head on Sil’s shoulder.
They waited all year for June. For the midnight sun.
To the other nations, Iceland always looked like he was alone. The awkward fifth wheel of the Nordic countries, tagging along behind the happy couple, Sweden and Finland, and the bickering couple, Denmark and Norway. It was true, he did like to spend time alone. And that’s why he had Grimsey.
Grimsey was a tiny island under his control. With barely a hundred inhabitants, forty kilometres north of his mainland, it skirted the edge of the Arctic Circle. It was the solitude which had originally drawn him there. He’d spent so much of his spare time there that he built a tiny hut from lumber washed ashore from Greenland and filled it with a clumsily crafted table and chair, and eventually a small bed. It was the perfect place to be alone, where he could sit and think. And being so far north, Grimsey properly experienced the phenomenon of polar day and polar night.
Many of the nations thought the Nordics were bonkers. They couldn’t understand how they could handle days filled with endless light and then days filled with endless dark. Summer weeks when the sun wouldn’t set, where the moon would hang lifeless and useless in the sky, a pale ghost of itself. And Winter weeks when the sun wouldn’t rise, hiding beneath the horizon while the moon would wander slowly across the blackened sky like a radiant silver orb.
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It was five summers ago now, when Iceland made his trip to Grimsey and found a handsome youth sleeping on the floor of his small hut. For a moment he just stared. The island had so few occupants that Iceland knew almost everyone. But this young man didn’t look familiar. He had shoulder length white hair partially tied back in a dark ribbon, and like him, he was pale and delicately boned. He was wearing old clothes which Iceland had left behind.
He wasn’t sure which of them would come off better in a fight, so he decided not to disturb the intruder. But Iceland’s attempts to make a quiet pot of coffee were disastrous and he awoke the young man when the kettle slipped and clattered to the ground.
But the young man just laughed, not at all embarrassed to be caught napping on a stranger’s floor. He introduced himself as Silfur – or Sil for short. Silfur, thought Iceland. Icelandic for Silver. Like my hair. But then Sil said he wasn’t from around here. Just visiting. And what’s your name? Iceland’s response had caught in his throat. He couldn’t say ‘Iceland’. So it was just ... Ice.
Though he loved his solitude, there was something about Sil which intrigued Iceland, and therefore, he allowed him to stay. Despite his youth, he seemed old and wise, and was quite worldly, prattling on about all the places and things he had seen. Their first June together had been magical – there was a glow which seemed to reflect off Sil and Iceland took advantage of the sunlit days and nights caused by the midnight sun, spending nearly every moment of his day talking and laughing with Sil.
Silver Hair, Silver Heart - pt 1/?
Personified!Moon which NASA then bombs for scientific research. I've added Nation-tan x Moon loving.
A/N: Obviously includes OC Moon.
-------------
“I love June,” said Iceland quietly.
A soft chuckle came from beside him and the white haired youth put his arm around the Icelander’s shoulders.
“Me, too.”
Iceland coloured slightly but he also smiled as he leaned his head on Sil’s shoulder.
They waited all year for June. For the midnight sun.
To the other nations, Iceland always looked like he was alone. The awkward fifth wheel of the Nordic countries, tagging along behind the happy couple, Sweden and Finland, and the bickering couple, Denmark and Norway. It was true, he did like to spend time alone. And that’s why he had Grimsey.
Grimsey was a tiny island under his control. With barely a hundred inhabitants, forty kilometres north of his mainland, it skirted the edge of the Arctic Circle. It was the solitude which had originally drawn him there. He’d spent so much of his spare time there that he built a tiny hut from lumber washed ashore from Greenland and filled it with a clumsily crafted table and chair, and eventually a small bed. It was the perfect place to be alone, where he could sit and think. And being so far north, Grimsey properly experienced the phenomenon of polar day and polar night.
Many of the nations thought the Nordics were bonkers. They couldn’t understand how they could handle days filled with endless light and then days filled with endless dark. Summer weeks when the sun wouldn’t set, where the moon would hang lifeless and useless in the sky, a pale ghost of itself. And Winter weeks when the sun wouldn’t rise, hiding beneath the horizon while the moon would wander slowly across the blackened sky like a radiant silver orb.
-----
It was five summers ago now, when Iceland made his trip to Grimsey and found a handsome youth sleeping on the floor of his small hut. For a moment he just stared. The island had so few occupants that Iceland knew almost everyone. But this young man didn’t look familiar. He had shoulder length white hair partially tied back in a dark ribbon, and like him, he was pale and delicately boned. He was wearing old clothes which Iceland had left behind.
He wasn’t sure which of them would come off better in a fight, so he decided not to disturb the intruder. But Iceland’s attempts to make a quiet pot of coffee were disastrous and he awoke the young man when the kettle slipped and clattered to the ground.
But the young man just laughed, not at all embarrassed to be caught napping on a stranger’s floor. He introduced himself as Silfur – or Sil for short. Silfur, thought Iceland. Icelandic for Silver. Like my hair. But then Sil said he wasn’t from around here. Just visiting. And what’s your name? Iceland’s response had caught in his throat. He couldn’t say ‘Iceland’. So it was just ... Ice.
Though he loved his solitude, there was something about Sil which intrigued Iceland, and therefore, he allowed him to stay. Despite his youth, he seemed old and wise, and was quite worldly, prattling on about all the places and things he had seen. Their first June together had been magical – there was a glow which seemed to reflect off Sil and Iceland took advantage of the sunlit days and nights caused by the midnight sun, spending nearly every moment of his day talking and laughing with Sil.