why did this take so long [1/2]
anonymous
May 28 2009, 04:03:01 UTC
And it's not even what you really wanted but, but--there is more I want to write, but IDK how it will turn out. D| M-maybe good, since it will be cute and pointless and Denmark less of a speaking part and more of a creeper, orz.
--
One year the long nights simply became too much to bear alone. Perhaps it was because of his cold.
So, with the Winter Lights Festival finally approaching, Iceland sought to have some company, to share his effulgence with another who would understand the rigours the strain extreme winter nights put on the mind and soul and body. Perhaps he was a bit a depressed-and it if was so, vitamin D tablets would not be enough.
And, of course, there were only so many who would truly understand what such nights meant to him. There was Russia and Canada, to be sure, but, somehow, they were too far removed. They didn't quite understand him to begin with anyway, though, even he was not truly European, he was neither Asian or North American.
Though he was insular-quiet so-so asking for company, extending invitations, would be a bit of an ordeal. Not for a lack of desire, but for a lack of words. Somehow ways to phrase “please spend time with me” escaped him, and for several days the the stack of parchment on his desk lay blank, unmarred by the dried fountain pen laid neatly flush with the sheets. The longer he brooded over what to write, the longer he would spend alternatively falling into reading expansive verses from his sagas. Then he tried to type it, and still the heroes of his history remained more appealling. He never really was threatened by his own ennui.
Also left untouched was the guest list which he had written out and left nearby-on the there were five names in total, all but the scratched out for various reasons. And still-with only one to compose a letter to-the boy remained bound by an uncomfortable and barely acknowledged inertia. Sitting with his head lowered over a centuried tome, Iceland read on as shadows from the candlelight flickered and sputtered over the graceful letters of a certain someone.
~ ~
As these things go with his family, however, he could not truly be surprised when Denmark appeared on his doorstep two days before the festival, roseate and grinning and already a bit reddened by good sprites. The knocking was some kind of pretense-no matter what, Denmark would be in the house soon enough, to stay for the duration of the festival.
Iceland had thought about inviting him at first, but had crossed off the Dane's name. He could trust that Denmark would be there just to have a good time, if not to have an excuse to hover around a former conquest for some time. Why would he pass up such an opportunity? And, of course, as Iceland tried to appreciate, Denmark just wanted to share some familial love.
“Iceland, Iceland! Guess who!” the Dane practically sang as he banged once more on the door. His voice broad and loud, he continued, “you may have three guesses, if you need all three.” And then he laughed.
I am a liar [2/3]
anonymous
May 28 2009, 04:05:18 UTC
Undoing the latch, on his own side of the door, Iceland paused for a moment to make sure his collar was pulled tightly around his neck-as much of a conscious as unconscious gesture, one that he had learned not to make in front of Denmark. Then, his hand turn the knob, he braced himself. “I only need one, Denmark.”
“Haha, such a smart little boy!” Denmark declared as he pushed his way into the partially-opened doorway and embraced the smaller nation in a rather exaggerated hug. One arm was enough to block Iceland's view of outside completely.
He did not try to see outside however, but did make a feeble attempt to reach and shut out the cold. “I don't understand. Anyone could have guessed it was you.”
“Oh, is that so?” With a smile, the taller man pulled Iceland against his chest and looked into his eyes.
Iceland, however, seemed to not be fazed at the moment. Which came from something of a mastery of his visage though, really, it would take more than a customary greeting from Denmark to shatter his neutrality. How much more, however, was debatable, and left up to the situation. “You're voice is unmistakable.”
Denmark brought Iceland a bit further into the hallway-his own home-sheltering him a touch from the cold. Though more than anything his bulk was an effective bulwark from the hiemal chill. “Isn't? I'm sure you know it just so, don't you?”
“Mm....Very...Danish.”
“And Danish is the best, isn't it?”
A beat, as Iceland considered what he was about to say. It really was the only thing to say at that moment, if he wanted this to end anytime soon without any incidents. “Of course, Denmark.”
“Isn't it so? Haha...” And as he trailed off, something in his eyes shifted. It didn't cause any uneasiness if seen, but merely held a dubious suggestion of things he may or may not have been thinking, pondering doing. Regression to the past never did seem far off with him, especially as he continued, “this week, I'll make sure to show you plenty of hospitality.”
Then was a good time to move away, but Iceland found he could not extricate himself from the other's grasp. And his vigilante stoicism must have wavered, for something he did-some look that he gave for a thrice-encouraged Denmark to simply tighten his hold. “I...”
*vigilant, orz [3/3]
anonymous
May 28 2009, 04:06:23 UTC
“You what?”
“I---”
“Yes, go on, go on,” Denmark said slowly, giving the other a meaningful squeeze and moving his face just a bit too close. “I'm listening.”
“I---”
And then there was a shuffling of feet, a third voice cutting in despite it's softness: “Of course it will be wonderful, Danmark. It always is with you.”
Aroused-and perhaps a bit distracted-Denmark almost instantaneously eased up on Iceland. The smaller nation took the chance to slip away as the taller turned around to face the doorway. Then before anything else, Iceland stood on his toes to confirm with eyes what he had heard. There was Norway, healthy but small looking-almost lost-in layers and layers of coats. Because of the gulf stream, he always had been a tad bit maladjusted to the cold by Nordic standards.
Smiling only to himself, Iceland navigated with a remarkable alacrity unobtrusively around Denmark to the other. Then with motions practised to appear nonchalant and merely proper, he helped Norway in and, finally, shut the door.
“Oh, and Norge here, too,” Denmark explained. He pointed to Norway with his thumb, and began to move further into the home. “Found him staring at a rock on the way here, so I figured I may as well bring him.” One of his coats found its way to the floor.
In the meantime, Norway had shed two of his coats and hung them on a coat rack. Iceland had remained nearby, hovering as the other removed his shoes and placed them by the door. He watched with a vague hint of exasperation as Denmark tracked snow all the way to the fireplace.
“So, we all have a wonderful time!” came the loudest voice, and after that is was quiet for a time as unneeded sets of clothing were placed aside-hung or tossed.
Iceland found that the time Norway was taking to undress seemed a bit long, but he wasn't going to say anything, he resolved. Instead, he tore his attention from the mess being made in his house and helped re-lace heavy boots. He found that his hands fumbled about, but he managed, though he knew he was being watched.
Finally, he stopped moving and sat with his head faced over his shoulder, his eyes on Norway's. “Thank you, Norge.”
“Welcome. Danmark is a pest right now.”
The smaller nation smiled, but that wasn't quite it. It took some time, but he shook his head just a tiny shake, as his stomach turned acidic. “Nn...for coming.”
“Oh.” Then it was Norway's turn to shake his head, even shrug a bit. “It wasn't a big deal.”
“Ah....Well, thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
And it kind of was a big deal that Norway had come, but Iceland wasn't sure how he could explain the anxiety and difficulty created by a single uncrossed name.
--
One year the long nights simply became too much to bear alone. Perhaps it was because of his cold.
So, with the Winter Lights Festival finally approaching, Iceland sought to have some company, to share his effulgence with another who would understand the rigours the strain extreme winter nights put on the mind and soul and body. Perhaps he was a bit a depressed-and it if was so, vitamin D tablets would not be enough.
And, of course, there were only so many who would truly understand what such nights meant to him. There was Russia and Canada, to be sure, but, somehow, they were too far removed. They didn't quite understand him to begin with anyway, though, even he was not truly European, he was neither Asian or North American.
Though he was insular-quiet so-so asking for company, extending invitations, would be a bit of an ordeal. Not for a lack of desire, but for a lack of words. Somehow ways to phrase “please spend time with me” escaped him, and for several days the the stack of parchment on his desk lay blank, unmarred by the dried fountain pen laid neatly flush with the sheets. The longer he brooded over what to write, the longer he would spend alternatively falling into reading expansive verses from his sagas. Then he tried to type it, and still the heroes of his history remained more appealling. He never really was threatened by his own ennui.
Also left untouched was the guest list which he had written out and left nearby-on the there were five names in total, all but the scratched out for various reasons. And still-with only one to compose a letter to-the boy remained bound by an uncomfortable and barely acknowledged inertia. Sitting with his head lowered over a centuried tome, Iceland read on as shadows from the candlelight flickered and sputtered over the graceful letters of a certain someone.
~ ~
As these things go with his family, however, he could not truly be surprised when Denmark appeared on his doorstep two days before the festival, roseate and grinning and already a bit reddened by good sprites. The knocking was some kind of pretense-no matter what, Denmark would be in the house soon enough, to stay for the duration of the festival.
Iceland had thought about inviting him at first, but had crossed off the Dane's name. He could trust that Denmark would be there just to have a good time, if not to have an excuse to hover around a former conquest for some time. Why would he pass up such an opportunity? And, of course, as Iceland tried to appreciate, Denmark just wanted to share some familial love.
“Iceland, Iceland! Guess who!” the Dane practically sang as he banged once more on the door. His voice broad and loud, he continued, “you may have three guesses, if you need all three.” And then he laughed.
Reply
“Haha, such a smart little boy!” Denmark declared as he pushed his way into the partially-opened doorway and embraced the smaller nation in a rather exaggerated hug. One arm was enough to block Iceland's view of outside completely.
He did not try to see outside however, but did make a feeble attempt to reach and shut out the cold. “I don't understand. Anyone could have guessed it was you.”
“Oh, is that so?” With a smile, the taller man pulled Iceland against his chest and looked into his eyes.
Iceland, however, seemed to not be fazed at the moment. Which came from something of a mastery of his visage though, really, it would take more than a customary greeting from Denmark to shatter his neutrality. How much more, however, was debatable, and left up to the situation. “You're voice is unmistakable.”
Denmark brought Iceland a bit further into the hallway-his own home-sheltering him a touch from the cold. Though more than anything his bulk was an effective bulwark from the hiemal chill. “Isn't? I'm sure you know it just so, don't you?”
“Mm....Very...Danish.”
“And Danish is the best, isn't it?”
A beat, as Iceland considered what he was about to say. It really was the only thing to say at that moment, if he wanted this to end anytime soon without any incidents. “Of course, Denmark.”
“Isn't it so? Haha...” And as he trailed off, something in his eyes shifted. It didn't cause any uneasiness if seen, but merely held a dubious suggestion of things he may or may not have been thinking, pondering doing. Regression to the past never did seem far off with him, especially as he continued, “this week, I'll make sure to show you plenty of hospitality.”
Then was a good time to move away, but Iceland found he could not extricate himself from the other's grasp. And his vigilante stoicism must have wavered, for something he did-some look that he gave for a thrice-encouraged Denmark to simply tighten his hold. “I...”
“Won't it be great, Iceland?”
“I....”
Reply
“I---”
“Yes, go on, go on,” Denmark said slowly, giving the other a meaningful squeeze and moving his face just a bit too close. “I'm listening.”
“I---”
And then there was a shuffling of feet, a third voice cutting in despite it's softness: “Of course it will be wonderful, Danmark. It always is with you.”
Aroused-and perhaps a bit distracted-Denmark almost instantaneously eased up on Iceland. The smaller nation took the chance to slip away as the taller turned around to face the doorway. Then before anything else, Iceland stood on his toes to confirm with eyes what he had heard. There was Norway, healthy but small looking-almost lost-in layers and layers of coats. Because of the gulf stream, he always had been a tad bit maladjusted to the cold by Nordic standards.
Smiling only to himself, Iceland navigated with a remarkable alacrity unobtrusively around Denmark to the other. Then with motions practised to appear nonchalant and merely proper, he helped Norway in and, finally, shut the door.
“Oh, and Norge here, too,” Denmark explained. He pointed to Norway with his thumb, and began to move further into the home. “Found him staring at a rock on the way here, so I figured I may as well bring him.” One of his coats found its way to the floor.
In the meantime, Norway had shed two of his coats and hung them on a coat rack. Iceland had remained nearby, hovering as the other removed his shoes and placed them by the door. He watched with a vague hint of exasperation as Denmark tracked snow all the way to the fireplace.
“So, we all have a wonderful time!” came the loudest voice, and after that is was quiet for a time as unneeded sets of clothing were placed aside-hung or tossed.
Iceland found that the time Norway was taking to undress seemed a bit long, but he wasn't going to say anything, he resolved. Instead, he tore his attention from the mess being made in his house and helped re-lace heavy boots. He found that his hands fumbled about, but he managed, though he knew he was being watched.
Finally, he stopped moving and sat with his head faced over his shoulder, his eyes on Norway's. “Thank you, Norge.”
“Welcome. Danmark is a pest right now.”
The smaller nation smiled, but that wasn't quite it. It took some time, but he shook his head just a tiny shake, as his stomach turned acidic. “Nn...for coming.”
“Oh.” Then it was Norway's turn to shake his head, even shrug a bit. “It wasn't a big deal.”
“Ah....Well, thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
And it kind of was a big deal that Norway had come, but Iceland wasn't sure how he could explain the anxiety and difficulty created by a single uncrossed name.
Reply
Leave a comment