Vanilla Twilight [1a/?]
anonymous
March 1 2010, 17:04:10 UTC
This is the above poster. I didn't get a reply but I decided to post anyway. I thought I would take a mystery/action/adventure-ish kind of route but the romance will still be there. If this isn't what OP wants I'm sorry.
Do not go gentle into that good night Rage, rage against the dying of the light - Dylan Thomas
Vanilla Twilight
Blood seeped through his fingers as he pressed his hand to his wound to try to stop the bleeding. He tried to run but his legs buckled and he crashed to the floor, hitting his cheek against the cracked stone floor.
The swishing sound of fabric whispering over the floor slowly drew his attention. The ruins of his once grand manor fell around him like raindrops hitting the floor and shattering. Everything was gone now and yet he pulled himself up into a sitting position and braced himself against one of the crumbling walls as the three figure approached.
“You…” he was not sure whether to laugh or cry as the first one drew back his hood and smiled at him.
“There is no use running. To the rest of the world it will appear as if you sunk into the ocean,” the man said, leaning down with a look of pity and resentment.
“I don’t believe you!”
“The era is ending for the both of us. There is little time left for us. New nations are blooming. Our time is over.”
“Is that why you killed Avalon?” he glared at the cloaked figures. One of them turned away as if stung but the other two remained coldly impassive.
And he hated them for it because he felt betrayed. Because he felt as though everything that he had gained had been ripped away from him in that one moment. Because he had not been able to fully erase the sight of it from the moment he had laid eyes on Avalon’s body. Because that image had been burnt into the back of his retina and would remain forever etched there for all his life. The white blossoms, the red blood, the blue sky, the golden hair, the green grass…
“A…la…s…” the cloaked figure whispered his name but, for some reason, he could not remember what his own name was. “A…la…s…” the man whispered but the name escaped him again. It sounded like a sad name, it sounded like regret. Alas, alas...
“Don’t touch me!” he slapped away the man’s hand as he tried to reach for him. He growled at the man and his black-cloaked entourage. He would have drawn his sword and stabbed through the heart of every last one of them had he not lost it in the earlier battle. “You will pay for this. I swear, you have not heard the last of me! Even if you kill me, I will make sure that you are punished for this!” he screamed, knowing full well that his end was coming, that he would not live to see the sun rise above the broken walls.
At the very least, he had wanted to die in the apple orchard.
The figure pushed unresisting against the crumbled wall with a hand, drawing a dagger with the other. His hand was shaking even as the dagger came down.
Re: Vanilla Twilight [1b/?]
anonymous
March 1 2010, 17:05:55 UTC
“America!”
The moment he lifted his head, England smacked a rolled-up newspaper over his head. America yelped, his jaw hitting the top of the conference table as his head was slammed down.
“America, were you sleeping?!” he peeked up to see an incredibly enraged England staring down at him, tapping his fingers against his forearm with an air of impatience.
“Huh? No, of course not!” America sat up, looking as attentive as he could.
The conference room had gone quiet. Although America was keenly aware that all eyes were on him, it only made his determination to deny his guilt even stronger. He could not lose face in front of everyone, especially not to England of all people. They had not been arguing very much, but their endless nagging at each other never stopped.
England rose an eyebrow. “Oh really? Then what did I just say?”
“Um…that I should sit up straight and not to bring fast food into meeting halls?”
England’s cheeks burned “T - That was just a lucky guess!” he spluttered and America discreetly breathed a sigh of relief.
Germany rose to his feet, clearing his throat. “I believe that we are out of time. Shall we call it a day?” he suggested.
America could not have heard more welcome news. The paper cup of coffee at his elbow was empty and his food had been reduced to crumpled wrappers. Although he could not remember just when he had fallen asleep, he was still a little tired - he had not been sleeping well lately - and he was hungry again. He needed a well-deserved break.
As the other nations were leaving the room, glad to go back to their hotel rooms, America noticed England approaching him. He made the unfortunate mistake of making eye contact before he could leave and England took this as leave to speak.
“America - ”
“Oh, hey England. Look, I was completely listening - ”
“I know that you were asleep,” England said sharply. However, his obvious displeasure easily gave way to unusual concern. “You seem like you haven’t been sleeping well. What have you been up to lately?”
“Nothing!” America blushed. It was true that he had not been getting much sleep but it was also true that he had done absolutely nothing different from what he usually did. In fact, he was sure that he was now going to bed earlier than before. “I’ve just been having weird dreams is all!”
“Weird dreams?” England looked sceptical.
America shrugged. He did not want to talk about them to England of all people. They were embarrassing, scary, painful, happy…they were about him but at the same time he was sure that it was not him.
“It’s nothing. I’ll get an early night tonight. Promise,” he sighed, hoping that that would appease England.
Surprisingly, it did. England simply nodded brusquely and tucked his folders under his arm. “You better. I don’t want you snoring in the middle of tomorrow’s meeting,” he said before leaving.
Re: Vanilla Twilight [1c/?]
anonymous
March 1 2010, 17:07:42 UTC
America did not know how it managed to get so dark so quickly. He had only stopped to eat a burger or two at the MacDonalds closest to the meeting building and yet by the time he left the sun was sinking, and the sky was waxing red and orange.
With his left over fries in a paper bag, America swiped his key card and entered his empty hotel room. He had decided to take a modestly sized room with a small, box-sized bathroom ensuite and a tiny fridge plugged in under the desk. The double bed took up most of the room and was covered in empty coffee and cola cans - after learning the joys of big beds he could never go back to a single.
He deposited the paper bag on his table - it could be tomorrow’s breakfast - and flicked on the table lamp. The windows suddenly rattled as the light came on. America jumped.
“Who’s there?!” he eyed the windows with a frantically beating heart but no reply came. Still he waited in silence, cautiously sliding his gaze over his room but not a thing stirred. “J - Just the wind, huh?” he relaxed, laughing at himself for being so tense.
He opened the fridge for some iced coffee. He had work to do and, knowing how he had been lately, he would not get through it without the aid of helpful caffeine.
All that remained inside the mini-fridge were a few cans of complementary beer, some chocolate, a tin of tuna, and an apple.
America was not sure why he reached for the apple first until he had already shut the fridge door and was standing upright again.
“Here,” he heard someone behind him say. Yelping, he spun around, eyes wide. His mouth opened to shout something but an apple was pressed against his lips.
It smelt like spring.
America reached up his hands to clasp it, taking it carefully, as though it were made of solid gold.
“You’re giving me this?”
Shadows of clouds slowly crept over them, crawling through the untamed grass. The wind was fierce and the sun burnt as though roaring silently with the wind. On top of the hill, he could see the land rolling away from him for many miles, and the small stone clusters of towns with smoke piping from the chimneys, and the cattle moving as lazily as clouds across the fields far below.
He turned his gaze to his companion but found that his eyes could not settle on his face. Everything seemed so clear, every touch and taste and smell and sight, but his companion’s face was blurry every time he tried to focus.
The figure nodded. Though his face was blurred, his voice was clear. It sounded familiar. “Apples grown in Avalon are the best, right A...la...s..?”
“Shit!” America dropped to his knees. The apple he had been holding dropped from his grasp and bounced along the carpeted floor. He grabbed hold of the side of the table and hauled himself onto his bed, waiting until the images that flashed before his eyes faded.
“Ugh, my head! What was that?”
America blinked a few times but he could still see them. They sparked like lights before his eyes, like someone trying to short circuit his brain.
Doubling over, America clutched the sides of his arms and rocked back and forth, praying for the images to go away. It hurt. His skull would surely crack open if this continued, surely his brain would just explode.
He groaned. It hurt. From his lips a name was wrenched out…but was it a name? He was not so sure.
“A…Ava…lon?”
They were somewhere else now. It was still bright. They were in town.
“I’ll wait for you in the orchard, by the main tree. You will be there, won’t you?”
Golden hair…but America still could not see his face.
The figure turned and left, his forest-coloured cloak sweeping over the grass as he left.
“Wait…Avalon!” his words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was shouting.
His head was going to split open.
Snow white blossoms, red blood, blue sky, golden hair, green grass…
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay
So.
I'd pretty much given up on checking this post. All I can say is that I was pleasantly surprised when I saw this going up on the fill post. Let me add to that by saying that you have surpassed my wildest expectations. You - You got it right. That's all I can say. This is fresh and pure and enthralling, and it's just - it's what it would be if it were true. Does that make any sense at all? Alfred as Atlantis and Arthur as Avalon - and I have my own sneaking suspicions as to who those three figures might have been.
Adventure's fine, it's wonderful - as is the mystery you're weaving here, interlacted with tantalizing hints of romance. I hope to see more soon - and thank you. So much, just for this - this wonderful fill.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light - Dylan Thomas
Vanilla Twilight
Blood seeped through his fingers as he pressed his hand to his wound to try to stop the bleeding. He tried to run but his legs buckled and he crashed to the floor, hitting his cheek against the cracked stone floor.
The swishing sound of fabric whispering over the floor slowly drew his attention. The ruins of his once grand manor fell around him like raindrops hitting the floor and shattering. Everything was gone now and yet he pulled himself up into a sitting position and braced himself against one of the crumbling walls as the three figure approached.
“You…” he was not sure whether to laugh or cry as the first one drew back his hood and smiled at him.
“There is no use running. To the rest of the world it will appear as if you sunk into the ocean,” the man said, leaning down with a look of pity and resentment.
“I don’t believe you!”
“The era is ending for the both of us. There is little time left for us. New nations are blooming. Our time is over.”
“Is that why you killed Avalon?” he glared at the cloaked figures. One of them turned away as if stung but the other two remained coldly impassive.
And he hated them for it because he felt betrayed. Because he felt as though everything that he had gained had been ripped away from him in that one moment. Because he had not been able to fully erase the sight of it from the moment he had laid eyes on Avalon’s body. Because that image had been burnt into the back of his retina and would remain forever etched there for all his life. The white blossoms, the red blood, the blue sky, the golden hair, the green grass…
“A…la…s…” the cloaked figure whispered his name but, for some reason, he could not remember what his own name was. “A…la…s…” the man whispered but the name escaped him again. It sounded like a sad name, it sounded like regret. Alas, alas...
“Don’t touch me!” he slapped away the man’s hand as he tried to reach for him. He growled at the man and his black-cloaked entourage. He would have drawn his sword and stabbed through the heart of every last one of them had he not lost it in the earlier battle. “You will pay for this. I swear, you have not heard the last of me! Even if you kill me, I will make sure that you are punished for this!” he screamed, knowing full well that his end was coming, that he would not live to see the sun rise above the broken walls.
At the very least, he had wanted to die in the apple orchard.
The figure pushed unresisting against the crumbled wall with a hand, drawing a dagger with the other. His hand was shaking even as the dagger came down.
“A…la…s..! A…la…s..!”
Reply
The moment he lifted his head, England smacked a rolled-up newspaper over his head. America yelped, his jaw hitting the top of the conference table as his head was slammed down.
“America, were you sleeping?!” he peeked up to see an incredibly enraged England staring down at him, tapping his fingers against his forearm with an air of impatience.
“Huh? No, of course not!” America sat up, looking as attentive as he could.
The conference room had gone quiet. Although America was keenly aware that all eyes were on him, it only made his determination to deny his guilt even stronger. He could not lose face in front of everyone, especially not to England of all people. They had not been arguing very much, but their endless nagging at each other never stopped.
England rose an eyebrow. “Oh really? Then what did I just say?”
“Um…that I should sit up straight and not to bring fast food into meeting halls?”
England’s cheeks burned “T - That was just a lucky guess!” he spluttered and America discreetly breathed a sigh of relief.
Germany rose to his feet, clearing his throat. “I believe that we are out of time. Shall we call it a day?” he suggested.
America could not have heard more welcome news. The paper cup of coffee at his elbow was empty and his food had been reduced to crumpled wrappers.
Although he could not remember just when he had fallen asleep, he was still a little tired - he had not been sleeping well lately - and he was hungry again. He needed a well-deserved break.
As the other nations were leaving the room, glad to go back to their hotel rooms, America noticed England approaching him. He made the unfortunate mistake of making eye contact before he could leave and England took this as leave to speak.
“America - ”
“Oh, hey England. Look, I was completely listening - ”
“I know that you were asleep,” England said sharply. However, his obvious displeasure easily gave way to unusual concern. “You seem like you haven’t been sleeping well. What have you been up to lately?”
“Nothing!” America blushed. It was true that he had not been getting much sleep but it was also true that he had done absolutely nothing different from what he usually did. In fact, he was sure that he was now going to bed earlier than before. “I’ve just been having weird dreams is all!”
“Weird dreams?” England looked sceptical.
America shrugged. He did not want to talk about them to England of all people. They were embarrassing, scary, painful, happy…they were about him but at the same time he was sure that it was not him.
“It’s nothing. I’ll get an early night tonight. Promise,” he sighed, hoping that that would appease England.
Surprisingly, it did. England simply nodded brusquely and tucked his folders under his arm. “You better. I don’t want you snoring in the middle of tomorrow’s meeting,” he said before leaving.
“I don’t snore!”
Reply
With his left over fries in a paper bag, America swiped his key card and entered his empty hotel room. He had decided to take a modestly sized room with a small, box-sized bathroom ensuite and a tiny fridge plugged in under the desk. The double bed took up most of the room and was covered in empty coffee and cola cans - after learning the joys of big beds he could never go back to a single.
He deposited the paper bag on his table - it could be tomorrow’s breakfast - and flicked on the table lamp. The windows suddenly rattled as the light came on. America jumped.
“Who’s there?!” he eyed the windows with a frantically beating heart but no reply came. Still he waited in silence, cautiously sliding his gaze over his room but not a thing stirred. “J - Just the wind, huh?” he relaxed, laughing at himself for being so tense.
He opened the fridge for some iced coffee. He had work to do and, knowing how he had been lately, he would not get through it without the aid of helpful caffeine.
All that remained inside the mini-fridge were a few cans of complementary beer, some chocolate, a tin of tuna, and an apple.
America was not sure why he reached for the apple first until he had already shut the fridge door and was standing upright again.
“Here,” he heard someone behind him say. Yelping, he spun around, eyes wide. His mouth opened to shout something but an apple was pressed against his lips.
It smelt like spring.
America reached up his hands to clasp it, taking it carefully, as though it were made of solid gold.
“You’re giving me this?”
Shadows of clouds slowly crept over them, crawling through the untamed grass. The wind was fierce and the sun burnt as though roaring silently with the wind. On top of the hill, he could see the land rolling away from him for many miles, and the small stone clusters of towns with smoke piping from the chimneys, and the cattle moving as lazily as clouds across the fields far below.
He turned his gaze to his companion but found that his eyes could not settle on his face. Everything seemed so clear, every touch and taste and smell and sight, but his companion’s face was blurry every time he tried to focus.
The figure nodded. Though his face was blurred, his voice was clear. It sounded familiar. “Apples grown in Avalon are the best, right A...la...s..?”
“Shit!” America dropped to his knees. The apple he had been holding dropped from his grasp and bounced along the carpeted floor. He grabbed hold of the side of the table and hauled himself onto his bed, waiting until the images that flashed before his eyes faded.
“Ugh, my head! What was that?”
America blinked a few times but he could still see them. They sparked like lights before his eyes, like someone trying to short circuit his brain.
Doubling over, America clutched the sides of his arms and rocked back and forth, praying for the images to go away. It hurt. His skull would surely crack open if this continued, surely his brain would just explode.
He groaned. It hurt. From his lips a name was wrenched out…but was it a name? He was not so sure.
“A…Ava…lon?”
They were somewhere else now. It was still bright. They were in town.
“I’ll wait for you in the orchard, by the main tree. You will be there, won’t you?”
Golden hair…but America still could not see his face.
The figure turned and left, his forest-coloured cloak sweeping over the grass as he left.
“Wait…Avalon!” his words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was shouting.
His head was going to split open.
Snow white blossoms, red blood, blue sky, golden hair, green grass…
America passed out.
Reply
Wooow. I... I need more.
... *stalks*
*hard*
Reply
and THAT quote. It always gets to me.
Bingeing York. WTH captcha?
Reply
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay
So.
I'd pretty much given up on checking this post. All I can say is that I was pleasantly surprised when I saw this going up on the fill post. Let me add to that by saying that you have surpassed my wildest expectations. You - You got it right. That's all I can say. This is fresh and pure and enthralling, and it's just - it's what it would be if it were true. Does that make any sense at all? Alfred as Atlantis and Arthur as Avalon - and I have my own sneaking suspicions as to who those three figures might have been.
Adventure's fine, it's wonderful - as is the mystery you're weaving here, interlacted with tantalizing hints of romance. I hope to see more soon - and thank you. So much, just for this - this wonderful fill.
Reply
Reply
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