Hetalia Kink meme part 9 -- CLOSED
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hetalia kink meme
part 9
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( Christmas Reveals )
My people wished to meet them. Our curiosity could no longer be kept away, my words of caution reaching deaf ears. I emerged from a crouch in the center of a wide meadow, another warrior beside me. The strangers stood still, their bodies tense and their eyes shown white.
The man with sun-kissed hair stood still, and was far calmer than the other men behind him. He kept his hands at either side and made no move for the weapons hanging from his waist. Upon nearing, I found his eyes to be the color of spring leaves, vibrant with life.
The warrior that came with me held back, growing cautious at the nervous stares of the men. I stepped forward, my nose picking up their unwashed scent. I stared at the green-eyed man and cocked my head. He met my gaze unflinchingly and kept still.
I turned back to the warrior, and sent him a reassuring look. The warrior swallowed and stepped around me, sniffing and gazing upon the strangers. His hand reached out, fingers stretching. The fair man kept still as a tree, and let the warriors fingers graze the leather strap hanging across his clothed chest until they met a shiny yellow thing stabbed through the leather. It was hard and slippery, smooth and glistening. The warrior yanked his fingers away in surprise, gasping at the different feel and texture of the object.
I took a step forward, slapped my right palm to his chest, and sent a call of reassurance to the others.
++
[Arthur]
The natural, the savage standing before me was a nation. Just as I was. I didn’t think it was possible, for one like us to represent people like this. People fragmented and split, warring against each other or at peace with one another. His skin was tan as the soil, his hair dark black, but his eyes… they were a brilliant blue. Blue as the sky over head.
The man, no… the nation shouted something in a guttural language, and several dozen others emerged from the tall, chest high meadow grasses.
His hands poked and grazed over his chest and shoulders, touching the brass belt bucket and sword hilts hanging at his waist. The others crowded around and stepped close, and I could feel my men’s nervousness, but so long as I held still, they would do the same. These people are simple, and I suspect no violence or hidden ill-intent. Their movements are skittish and shy, gentle and harsh, like a herd of curious deer.
I stare at the nation standing before me, standing patiently as his fingers curiously touch the buttons on my coat. I open my mouth to tell him my name, but think better of myself.
He stares at me then, my sudden movement distracting him from touching the buttons. Cocking his head, he lifts his hand and touches my face. His fingers run across my jawline, my eyebrows and rise up to my hair line. Fascination fills his wide-eyed stare, and he closes his index finger and thumb around a lock of my hair, touching it and rubbing the strands apart. He pulls his hand away and stares at it a moment before returning to my head.
I wish I knew your name.
The savages left as quickly as they appeared. The men all crowded around me, fear and nervousness coming from them like a stench.
I put them to work, and have them chop the trees down within a quarter mile and use the wood to build the fort. Within the fort we will plant barley and wheat, and I inform them that if I catch any man slacking off their duties that they will be whipped and thrown to the bowels of the ship to rot. They swallow nervously at the prospect and immediately get to work.
After surveying the area and marking the appropriate areas for walls and the entry gate, I can’t help but think of that blue-eyed nation. Who is he? What is his name? Does he represent all the naturals of this land or just this single tribe?
Will I meet you again?
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