The Prologue [3/3]
anonymous
June 22 2010, 01:51:13 UTC
He does. Something tentacled is still oiling his lungs, though. Because the thought occurs to him, over and over again as he retches over the patio fence-this is what I’ve made, this what I’ve made, this is what I’ve made.
.
“They’re very endearing, of course, especially when they want to kill you,” France said, “but there still remains that problem.”
.
4.
He’s had a lot of time for thinking philosophically these days.
It’s like arithmetic.
If England has not seen English soil for a year, and has not heard English bells tolling for a greater or equal amount of time, a) what happens to the land?
b) What happens to the body?
Solve.
The fae are gone.
5.
…The fae are gone.
6.
It’s a rainy day when America finally looks old. England has been expecting it; it happens to all of them sooner or later.
“Not that fun anymore, is it?” He murmurs over the paper. It’s a relic, and one of his favorite to read. PARIS BESIEGED: FRANCE FALLS TO THE UAE, the headline says.
America is by the window and doesn’t reply. Who knew that watching droplets race each other could be so exciting.
.
“You see, these empires-they always die,” says France delicately. He blows at the cloud of smoke before him. “It is so very tragic.”
.
7.
Contrary to what America thinks, England has been in contact with Canada. And Belgium. And Japan.
And everyone else in the Empire.
There are people underground in Australia-literally-and there are messages hidden in the seams of a boy soldier’s pants cuffs, and there are bombs that he will set so that they will know where he was, and come out at night with candle fire lighting their hair, and grapple for singed scraps of paper and lay the candles by his figure, except not near the face because the last time they did it the wax kind of dripped into its holes. The ones that weren’t there originally.
And there is the north, where the sun never set and they could chase your shadow but never find you. And from shantytowns squeezed on the foaming cliffs of Denmark, children who send homemade fireworks into riot police, gold and red and blue in their joy.
And there is Russia, of course. Russia, the hero.
Interesting ring to it.
.
England took the lighter France offered him. “What are you talking about?” And the cigarette. He inhaled it. “I suppose you’ve forgotten that I used to be an Empire too, you dolt, and that I’m very much alive. Although I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to remember having your arse handed to you every-“
“Oh, Arthur,” said France loudly. “I am trying to be very French here, and you are interrupting.”
“…I am not even going to dignify-“
“Now, you see. You see.” France dropped his cigarette, crumbled it under a leather toe, and coughed. And then smiled. “Angleterre, you may have died.
But you are different from the others. You are like us. Surely you remember-keep calm and carry on. That is how we become eternity.”
Re: The Prologue [3/3]
anonymous
June 22 2010, 17:49:42 UTC
Really really good. I often do not read empire fic, esp. with America and Russia (they are kind of repetitive), but this fic is really unique and well written. Definitely bookmarked.
“Oh, Arthur,” said France loudly. “I am trying to be very French here, and you are interrupting.”
Oh, I love those moments when Francis trying to be French :D
.
“They’re very endearing, of course, especially when they want to kill you,” France said, “but there still remains that problem.”
.
4.
He’s had a lot of time for thinking philosophically these days.
It’s like arithmetic.
If England has not seen English soil for a year, and has not heard English bells tolling for a greater or equal amount of time, a) what happens to the land?
b) What happens to the body?
Solve.
The fae are gone.
5.
…The fae are gone.
6.
It’s a rainy day when America finally looks old. England has been expecting it; it happens to all of them sooner or later.
“Not that fun anymore, is it?” He murmurs over the paper. It’s a relic, and one of his favorite to read. PARIS BESIEGED: FRANCE FALLS TO THE UAE, the headline says.
America is by the window and doesn’t reply. Who knew that watching droplets race each other could be so exciting.
.
“You see, these empires-they always die,” says France delicately. He blows at the cloud of smoke before him. “It is so very tragic.”
.
7.
Contrary to what America thinks, England has been in contact with Canada. And Belgium. And Japan.
And everyone else in the Empire.
There are people underground in Australia-literally-and there are messages hidden in the seams of a boy soldier’s pants cuffs, and there are bombs that he will set so that they will know where he was, and come out at night with candle fire lighting their hair, and grapple for singed scraps of paper and lay the candles by his figure, except not near the face because the last time they did it the wax kind of dripped into its holes. The ones that weren’t there originally.
And there is the north, where the sun never set and they could chase your shadow but never find you. And from shantytowns squeezed on the foaming cliffs of Denmark, children who send homemade fireworks into riot police, gold and red and blue in their joy.
And there is Russia, of course. Russia, the hero.
Interesting ring to it.
.
England took the lighter France offered him. “What are you talking about?” And the cigarette. He inhaled it. “I suppose you’ve forgotten that I used to be an Empire too, you dolt, and that I’m very much alive. Although I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to remember having your arse handed to you every-“
“Oh, Arthur,” said France loudly. “I am trying to be very French here, and you are interrupting.”
“…I am not even going to dignify-“
“Now, you see. You see.” France dropped his cigarette, crumbled it under a leather toe, and coughed. And then smiled. “Angleterre, you may have died.
But you are different from the others. You are like us. Surely you remember-keep calm and carry on. That is how we become eternity.”
.
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“Oh, Arthur,” said France loudly. “I am trying to be very French here, and you are interrupting.”
Oh, I love those moments when Francis trying to be French :D
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he oftens succeeds at it, no? :D
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“Like an apocalypse movie, you know, like The Day After Tomorrow or something, except this is way more awesome-“
Canada ;__;
The fae are gone
What does it say about me that this hit the hardest?
And there is Russia, of course. Russia, the hero.
Oh wow.
“I am trying to be very French here, and you are interrupting.”
FRANCE ILU SO MUCH
--and you too, author-anon. Teasing and all.
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...that french line? MY FAVORITE ONE TO WRITE. teeheee ♥
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