Can't figure out what to title it, and I'm still not happy with it, but oh well! Hope you like it anyway, OP
--
He wakes up to nothingness.
There is no light, no land, no body, not even himself. Only his consciousness, cast adrift in an endless, empty sea.
Iceland closes his mind and allows himself to drift away.
*
There is no spell for it. No magic strong enough to erase a national personification from existence. No spell, and therefore no counterspell.
Regardless, Norway carefully arranges his face, blank as always, and opens yet another dusty tome.
*
Denmark has always been good at hiding things behind his grin.
He plasters one to his face now as he answers the door yet again, explaining to yet another nation that Iceland is on a trip and no, they don’t know when he’ll be back.
They have a façade to keep up, after all.
*
Finland smiles and waves as he drops Sealand off at school and then slams his head against the steering wheel as soon as the boy has entered the building.
“Why?” Why didn’t you say anything? What did we do wrong?
He stays that way, slouched over for a moment longer, before carefully straightening himself and fixing another smile on his face.
Curse Germanics and their emotional constipation.
He has to stay cheerful. Remain optimistic. Because he’s the only one of them who can.
*
“Norge, come out of the library.”
“No.”
“You can’t browse books of magic all day like that.”
“I can and I will.”
“It’s been days, Norge! Take a break and—”
“He’s my brother, Dan! Just because you never cared—” Norway takes several deep, shuddering breaths, and can’t continue.
Denmark doesn’t wait to hear the rest. He runs.
*
“You wouldn’t understand! You don’t care that he’s gone. You don’t give a shit about any of us except for Fin.”
Sweden glares murderously at Denmark and clenches his fists, and it takes all his self control not to hit the man. Oh, he wants to, so very badly, if only so it can be like the old days when they beat the crap out of each other for no reason at all, because anything is better than the broken, paralyzed state they’re in.
But the moment passes and Sweden simply slumps, because after all, Denmark is right, he hasn’t ever paid enough attention to Iceland. “Yer right. I haven’t cared enough.”
“Hey, wait, I didn’t—I didn’t mean what I said, alright, that’s not—”
“But yer right.”
And Sweden simply stands, looming awkwardly as only Sweden can, while Denmark sits, face twitching, because he can’t quite remember how not to grin.
*
Something brushes him, lightly, like a stroke from the tips of Mr. Puffin’s wings, but when Iceland opens his eyes he is alone and there is nothing.
He wanders about to pass the time, but no matter where he steps emptiness stretches all around him. So he changes it. From the nothingness he raises a sea; from the sea, he raises swooping cliffs and imposing mountains. Trees that cling to boulders that pierce the sea.
He creates puffins too, flocks and flocks of them that flap thunderously all around him before disappearing into the sky.
No matter how many flocks he creates, they always leave.
The panic, the fury, and finally the grief lose their edge. Life returns to normal, leaving only a gaping hole none of them speak of.
*
“You miss them, don’t you?”
Iceland whips his head around. “Grandpa?”
Germania steps over the ocean, through the spray of sea churning against rocks, to stand beside him. “I asked you a question.”
“Even if I do, they don’t miss me.”
Germania shakes his head. “You should see the state they’re in.” He turns Iceland to face him; glares straight into the younger nation’s eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Iceland tears his gaze away. “Why are you here?”
“I don’t like to see my descendents suffering.” Germania gestures around him. “It’s a nice world you’ve built here. But you’ll always be alone.”
“I’ll always—”
“Be alone anyway?” Germania’s lip curls slightly when Iceland doesn’t answer. “Less alone than you’d be like this.” He lets the words sink in, through the relentless crashing of wave after wave upon rocks.
“They miss you, you know.” With that Germania fades away, as suddenly as he came. Iceland stands alone on the shore of his world, the beautiful, desolate world he created, and does not know what to say.
*
“Why are you in my house?”
Denmark drops the duster he’s been using, mouth open but for once with nothing to say.
*
“You mean…you left us because the four of us were paired and you weren’t.” It’s not a question.
Iceland nods.
Norway studies him levelly for a moment, expressionless as always.
And then slaps him.
And then Iceland finds himself in the tightest embrace he’s ever received.
“Idiot,” Norway hisses. “Idiot! Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.” There are tears running down his face now. Iceland can’t even remember the last time he’s seen Norway cry. “Don’t ever leave us again.”
“I won’t,” Iceland says, hesitantly raising his arms to return the hug. “Brother.” And he means it.
I really like how you wrote this. Individually, the little vignettes are lovely little gems, with a lot of depth in so few words, and they fit together so well. I was going to pick out the ones I like the best, but then I realized there were too many. Honestly, I was just going to list them all. Suffice it to say that you start off strong and evocative and stay that way for the entire fill.
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Have a third fill~
(Anonymous) 2012-04-21 06:44 am (UTC)(link)--
He wakes up to nothingness.
There is no light, no land, no body, not even himself. Only his consciousness, cast adrift in an endless, empty sea.
Iceland closes his mind and allows himself to drift away.
*
There is no spell for it. No magic strong enough to erase a national personification from existence. No spell, and therefore no counterspell.
Regardless, Norway carefully arranges his face, blank as always, and opens yet another dusty tome.
*
Denmark has always been good at hiding things behind his grin.
He plasters one to his face now as he answers the door yet again, explaining to yet another nation that Iceland is on a trip and no, they don’t know when he’ll be back.
They have a façade to keep up, after all.
*
Finland smiles and waves as he drops Sealand off at school and then slams his head against the steering wheel as soon as the boy has entered the building.
“Why?” Why didn’t you say anything? What did we do wrong?
He stays that way, slouched over for a moment longer, before carefully straightening himself and fixing another smile on his face.
Curse Germanics and their emotional constipation.
He has to stay cheerful. Remain optimistic. Because he’s the only one of them who can.
*
“Norge, come out of the library.”
“No.”
“You can’t browse books of magic all day like that.”
“I can and I will.”
“It’s been days, Norge! Take a break and—”
“He’s my brother, Dan! Just because you never cared—” Norway takes several deep, shuddering breaths, and can’t continue.
Denmark doesn’t wait to hear the rest. He runs.
*
“You wouldn’t understand! You don’t care that he’s gone. You don’t give a shit about any of us except for Fin.”
Sweden glares murderously at Denmark and clenches his fists, and it takes all his self control not to hit the man. Oh, he wants to, so very badly, if only so it can be like the old days when they beat the crap out of each other for no reason at all, because anything is better than the broken, paralyzed state they’re in.
But the moment passes and Sweden simply slumps, because after all, Denmark is right, he hasn’t ever paid enough attention to Iceland. “Yer right. I haven’t cared enough.”
“Hey, wait, I didn’t—I didn’t mean what I said, alright, that’s not—”
“But yer right.”
And Sweden simply stands, looming awkwardly as only Sweden can, while Denmark sits, face twitching, because he can’t quite remember how not to grin.
*
Something brushes him, lightly, like a stroke from the tips of Mr. Puffin’s wings, but when Iceland opens his eyes he is alone and there is nothing.
He wanders about to pass the time, but no matter where he steps emptiness stretches all around him. So he changes it. From the nothingness he raises a sea; from the sea, he raises swooping cliffs and imposing mountains. Trees that cling to boulders that pierce the sea.
He creates puffins too, flocks and flocks of them that flap thunderously all around him before disappearing into the sky.
No matter how many flocks he creates, they always leave.
Re: Have a third fill~ (pt 2)
(Anonymous) 2012-04-21 06:46 am (UTC)(link)--
Time passes.
The panic, the fury, and finally the grief lose their edge. Life returns to normal, leaving only a gaping hole none of them speak of.
*
“You miss them, don’t you?”
Iceland whips his head around. “Grandpa?”
Germania steps over the ocean, through the spray of sea churning against rocks, to stand beside him. “I asked you a question.”
“Even if I do, they don’t miss me.”
Germania shakes his head. “You should see the state they’re in.” He turns Iceland to face him; glares straight into the younger nation’s eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Iceland tears his gaze away. “Why are you here?”
“I don’t like to see my descendents suffering.” Germania gestures around him. “It’s a nice world you’ve built here. But you’ll always be alone.”
“I’ll always—”
“Be alone anyway?” Germania’s lip curls slightly when Iceland doesn’t answer. “Less alone than you’d be like this.” He lets the words sink in, through the relentless crashing of wave after wave upon rocks.
“They miss you, you know.” With that Germania fades away, as suddenly as he came. Iceland stands alone on the shore of his world, the beautiful, desolate world he created, and does not know what to say.
*
“Why are you in my house?”
Denmark drops the duster he’s been using, mouth open but for once with nothing to say.
*
“You mean…you left us because the four of us were paired and you weren’t.” It’s not a question.
Iceland nods.
Norway studies him levelly for a moment, expressionless as always.
And then slaps him.
And then Iceland finds himself in the tightest embrace he’s ever received.
“Idiot,” Norway hisses. “Idiot! Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.” There are tears running down his face now. Iceland can’t even remember the last time he’s seen Norway cry. “Don’t ever leave us again.”
“I won’t,” Iceland says, hesitantly raising his arms to return the hug. “Brother.” And he means it.
Re: Have a third fill~ (pt 2)
(Anonymous) 2012-04-29 05:12 am (UTC)(link)I really like how you wrote this. Individually, the little vignettes are lovely little gems, with a lot of depth in so few words, and they fit together so well. I was going to pick out the ones I like the best, but then I realized there were too many. Honestly, I was just going to list them all. Suffice it to say that you start off strong and evocative and stay that way for the entire fill.
tl;dr I really, really like this. Well done.
a!a
(Anonymous) 2012-05-02 09:57 am (UTC)(link)