[Fanfiction] Empty (beat), Prompts to find my Soul 1&2
Title: Empty [beat]
Author: Me
Characters: Canada
Rating: T
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: Lonely. He was Lonely. Written a while ago while I was busy suffering from depression.
Lonely.
He was lonely. Skin glistened with transparency as sunlight poured onto it, having crept through a crack in the heavy curtains. Dust stirred as the thick piece of cloth was moved, and he coughed. It took all he had to pull the curtain fully over the window, but once he did the sun was instantly blocked out and the room became dark once more.
He curled back down onto the cold cement floor, eyes looking without seeing. He would have been crying if there had been moisture left in his body. Frail, blonde hair - once soft - splayed out like seaweed in the tide. He took in a shattered breath.
Countries. Strong, but weak. The voice of the people, with a voice of their own. Contradictory.
He smiled dryly in his mind, muscles failing to do so physically. Countries could never kill themselves. Images of all his own attempts to do so flashed before his eyes. Attempts that ended in failure. He coughed.
It was all up to the people. If they wanted him dead they could make it so in an instant. If other people from other countries wished so, all it took was a war. An attack. Opportunity.
And look where it all brought him. Them.
He could hear the screams in his head as they rang through his ears. His skin had burned like it was on fire in the beginning. When he'd had the strength to fight back, he did so, but only received more pain as his prize. His lungs had pierced themselves with holes and flecks of blood emerged from his innards when he coughed. He'd stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped going outside. His skin became near translucent, and even the sunlight had started to cause him discomfort.
Now, he lay loosely on the floor, motionless. Chest moving slightly as he breathed, he tasted iron. Blood from his lungs had collected and converged on one side of his mouth, and had pooled so heavily that it had overflowed, a thin line of crimson slithering down his skin and dripping to the ground.
Vessels were easily seen throughout his clear epidermis, and they pumped slowly, snaking liquid red through him at a staggered pace.
The lump in his chest ached with every beat.
It began to slow.
Violet eyes flickered around the room, absorbing the darkened scenery, the quiet air.
Beat.
He yearned for his brother.
...Beat.
He thought about the sun, and the sky. He thought about the ocean. He remembered his family. For an instant, he remembered love. He was suddenly glad that his sibling wasn't here to see him like this.
Broken.
....Be...at...
The aged curtain sagged under its own weight, and a sliver of sunlight forced it's way through. It pierced the blackness by his feet, sending heat and pain through his body.
It was so... bright.
His hand shakily reached towards it as if it were something solid to grab hold of. Violet eyes were locked on that ray.
He felt fear.
.......b....e...a....t.....
He touched the sun.
..........b...........e...........................
Matthew died alone.
Title: Prompts to Find my Soul parts 1&2
Author: Me
Characters: Austria
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: So I lost my inner Austria and thus decided to write short drabbles in order to find him once again. The second one is specific to the role-play he's in, and thus needs a little bit of background information in order to fully understand. Prompt 1: Fear. Prompt 2: My father is...
Prompt 1: Write about Fear.
And he played his music.
Pale hands rested on pale keys, fingers drumming along to his rhythm, drumming along to his heartbeat, drumming along to the existence of life itself. Questioning, questioning.
Seeking answers yet only finding inquiries.
The music sped up as his fingers moved; faster and faster in a flurry of movement. He rocked back and forth, immersed in his thoughts, immersed in the music that was his thoughts. Was his every action and word and sound. Was.
Faster and faster, quicker and quicker, fingers now jumping from key to key, pressing harder, movements now a blur. He played and played and played and he frowned and bit his lip and his eyebrows furrowed and his muscles tensed and--
He hit the wrong note, and froze.
Opening his eyes and blinking he was pulled from his mind, pulled from his delusions and dreams and escapes and he was brought back to the here and now and he knew.
He knew because it had been what he was running so far away from. Why he played so much, with so much passion, with so much hope for a way out. Why the time spent away from those ivory keys was filled with trauma and despair and disappointment.
He knew that he was dying.
And Roderich Edelstein was afraid.
Prompt 2: My father is...
His father is a rich man. His father is an intelligent man, an intellect among normality. His mind and his drive brought him his fortune and his wife, and the stuffy austrian currently staring solemnly out the window at the nothingness beyond. He is but a product of his father’s success, nothing more. Never meant to be anything more.
He’s lived on his father’s wealth since before he was conceived. It was expected that he would continue to do so, would continue by taking over what was considered rightfully his. A hand shifts, and the brunette places its palm under his chin with an elegant stature.
He is who he is because he was taught to be so. Never in his life has he ever stepped out of the boundaries given to him by his class, given to him by the people he once called ‘family’. He has not tested his limits, and, he sometimes thinks, perhaps he doesn’t have any. Perhaps he could be a great man. An astounding man. A man who surpasses the very flesh and blood that gave him life itself. Perhaps.
Violet eyes close and open, and the austrian glances down at his rustic, wooden end-table before gazing dismally into the blackness of the universe once more. He ponders.
If a star was birthed as a star, he wonders, can it become anything but? Is it chained to its destiny by simply existing? By simply shining as it always has, burning atoms and growing hotter, hotter, hotter?
If so, he figures, it would be appropriate then to change its destiny by ceasing to exist. But how solemn.
Displeasure tugs downward at the corners of his mouth.
How solemn for that to be the only way. A star is a star is a star, no matter what else it attempts to become. He supposes that he will always be himself until he too, ceases to exist. He thinks again, and then...
But a star has parts. It is - by composition - made up of millions and billions of tiny things; tiny parts of its life and its soul and its everything. It could slaughter a section of its being and remain alive...but it would change. It would forcibly alter itself into something that was the same yet different. Perhaps it would remain in its predestined track, but would gain the ability to stop and go whenever it pleased. Perhaps it could gain an ounce of control. All it had to do was alter its makeup.
An idea sprouts in his mind, and he is unaware when or where the seed had been sown. He decides, and it is the first thing he’s decided in quite some time.
Roderich stands, and with the grace he’s always possessed he walks toward the door and opens it. He glances back at the seat and the table and the window looking out at nothing yet everything and he walks. He leaves determined. He leaves willing.
He leaves Roderich Carnuntum in his seat to cease existence.
He walks out with his star, his prize, his gemstone.
His Edelstein.
_______________________________________________
Notes: Edelstien = 'gemstone'.
Prompt 2 revolves around Spacetalia!Roderich.
Space!Roddy was part of a family of cartographers until a big fiasco involving selling military maps to the french made him lose all respect for his profession. He ended up leaving home bound for nowhere in particular. He also changed his last name to avoid being found by his family. Then later he joined the Axis, a rogue pirate ship lead by an ex-military commander with a grudge (Ludwig, hur). Then stuff happens.
Anyways, this takes place around the time he decides to leave home. The second one, at least.
Author: Me
Characters: Canada
Rating: T
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: Lonely. He was Lonely. Written a while ago while I was busy suffering from depression.
Lonely.
He was lonely. Skin glistened with transparency as sunlight poured onto it, having crept through a crack in the heavy curtains. Dust stirred as the thick piece of cloth was moved, and he coughed. It took all he had to pull the curtain fully over the window, but once he did the sun was instantly blocked out and the room became dark once more.
He curled back down onto the cold cement floor, eyes looking without seeing. He would have been crying if there had been moisture left in his body. Frail, blonde hair - once soft - splayed out like seaweed in the tide. He took in a shattered breath.
Countries. Strong, but weak. The voice of the people, with a voice of their own. Contradictory.
He smiled dryly in his mind, muscles failing to do so physically. Countries could never kill themselves. Images of all his own attempts to do so flashed before his eyes. Attempts that ended in failure. He coughed.
It was all up to the people. If they wanted him dead they could make it so in an instant. If other people from other countries wished so, all it took was a war. An attack. Opportunity.
And look where it all brought him. Them.
He could hear the screams in his head as they rang through his ears. His skin had burned like it was on fire in the beginning. When he'd had the strength to fight back, he did so, but only received more pain as his prize. His lungs had pierced themselves with holes and flecks of blood emerged from his innards when he coughed. He'd stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped going outside. His skin became near translucent, and even the sunlight had started to cause him discomfort.
Now, he lay loosely on the floor, motionless. Chest moving slightly as he breathed, he tasted iron. Blood from his lungs had collected and converged on one side of his mouth, and had pooled so heavily that it had overflowed, a thin line of crimson slithering down his skin and dripping to the ground.
Vessels were easily seen throughout his clear epidermis, and they pumped slowly, snaking liquid red through him at a staggered pace.
The lump in his chest ached with every beat.
It began to slow.
Violet eyes flickered around the room, absorbing the darkened scenery, the quiet air.
Beat.
He yearned for his brother.
...Beat.
He thought about the sun, and the sky. He thought about the ocean. He remembered his family. For an instant, he remembered love. He was suddenly glad that his sibling wasn't here to see him like this.
Broken.
....Be...at...
The aged curtain sagged under its own weight, and a sliver of sunlight forced it's way through. It pierced the blackness by his feet, sending heat and pain through his body.
It was so... bright.
His hand shakily reached towards it as if it were something solid to grab hold of. Violet eyes were locked on that ray.
He felt fear.
.......b....e...a....t.....
He touched the sun.
..........b...........e...........................
Matthew died alone.
Title: Prompts to Find my Soul parts 1&2
Author: Me
Characters: Austria
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: So I lost my inner Austria and thus decided to write short drabbles in order to find him once again. The second one is specific to the role-play he's in, and thus needs a little bit of background information in order to fully understand. Prompt 1: Fear. Prompt 2: My father is...
Prompt 1: Write about Fear.
And he played his music.
Pale hands rested on pale keys, fingers drumming along to his rhythm, drumming along to his heartbeat, drumming along to the existence of life itself. Questioning, questioning.
Seeking answers yet only finding inquiries.
The music sped up as his fingers moved; faster and faster in a flurry of movement. He rocked back and forth, immersed in his thoughts, immersed in the music that was his thoughts. Was his every action and word and sound. Was.
Faster and faster, quicker and quicker, fingers now jumping from key to key, pressing harder, movements now a blur. He played and played and played and he frowned and bit his lip and his eyebrows furrowed and his muscles tensed and--
He hit the wrong note, and froze.
Opening his eyes and blinking he was pulled from his mind, pulled from his delusions and dreams and escapes and he was brought back to the here and now and he knew.
He knew because it had been what he was running so far away from. Why he played so much, with so much passion, with so much hope for a way out. Why the time spent away from those ivory keys was filled with trauma and despair and disappointment.
He knew that he was dying.
And Roderich Edelstein was afraid.
Prompt 2: My father is...
His father is a rich man. His father is an intelligent man, an intellect among normality. His mind and his drive brought him his fortune and his wife, and the stuffy austrian currently staring solemnly out the window at the nothingness beyond. He is but a product of his father’s success, nothing more. Never meant to be anything more.
He’s lived on his father’s wealth since before he was conceived. It was expected that he would continue to do so, would continue by taking over what was considered rightfully his. A hand shifts, and the brunette places its palm under his chin with an elegant stature.
He is who he is because he was taught to be so. Never in his life has he ever stepped out of the boundaries given to him by his class, given to him by the people he once called ‘family’. He has not tested his limits, and, he sometimes thinks, perhaps he doesn’t have any. Perhaps he could be a great man. An astounding man. A man who surpasses the very flesh and blood that gave him life itself. Perhaps.
Violet eyes close and open, and the austrian glances down at his rustic, wooden end-table before gazing dismally into the blackness of the universe once more. He ponders.
If a star was birthed as a star, he wonders, can it become anything but? Is it chained to its destiny by simply existing? By simply shining as it always has, burning atoms and growing hotter, hotter, hotter?
If so, he figures, it would be appropriate then to change its destiny by ceasing to exist. But how solemn.
Displeasure tugs downward at the corners of his mouth.
How solemn for that to be the only way. A star is a star is a star, no matter what else it attempts to become. He supposes that he will always be himself until he too, ceases to exist. He thinks again, and then...
But a star has parts. It is - by composition - made up of millions and billions of tiny things; tiny parts of its life and its soul and its everything. It could slaughter a section of its being and remain alive...but it would change. It would forcibly alter itself into something that was the same yet different. Perhaps it would remain in its predestined track, but would gain the ability to stop and go whenever it pleased. Perhaps it could gain an ounce of control. All it had to do was alter its makeup.
An idea sprouts in his mind, and he is unaware when or where the seed had been sown. He decides, and it is the first thing he’s decided in quite some time.
Roderich stands, and with the grace he’s always possessed he walks toward the door and opens it. He glances back at the seat and the table and the window looking out at nothing yet everything and he walks. He leaves determined. He leaves willing.
He leaves Roderich Carnuntum in his seat to cease existence.
He walks out with his star, his prize, his gemstone.
His Edelstein.
_______________________________________________
Notes: Edelstien = 'gemstone'.
Prompt 2 revolves around Spacetalia!Roderich.
Space!Roddy was part of a family of cartographers until a big fiasco involving selling military maps to the french made him lose all respect for his profession. He ended up leaving home bound for nowhere in particular. He also changed his last name to avoid being found by his family. Then later he joined the Axis, a rogue pirate ship lead by an ex-military commander with a grudge (Ludwig, hur). Then stuff happens.
Anyways, this takes place around the time he decides to leave home. The second one, at least.