The Scent of Power 1/??
anonymous
April 1 2009, 18:52:55 UTC
I'm writing this in little pieces at different times, okay? <33
The smell of these sheets was unfamiliar. But yet, it reminded me of my past...But which part of my past? Not the fighting, nah, not any of that...But more of the comforting times of my history. I think their scent reminded me of Fritz...God, that had to be it. The smell was so much like his. So welcoming but so musky. My bed hadn't had this scent in years. I can't remember the last time I could smell Fritz on my sheets...I just remember having woken up one day and his scent was gone. And it would be gone forever. My great king was forever gone and in a sense, as was I. But Fritz was human, and I was a nation. Human beings have their bodies die and decay--god, looking at Katte that day, that was all the proof I needed to know that human beings die and they're so much more fragile than nations. Their bodies can crumble and can be so easily destroyed, crushed and severed, and that head falling from that young man's shoulders still remains fresh in my mind as a reminder of human life. However...as a nation, your body never really dies. Your name just is removed from the map, sometimes you're renamed...But in my case, I don't even know if I was totally renamed. Some say that I'm joined with Ludwig now as East Germany...But...I don't want to believe that I'm just a half. I want to be whole. Will I ever get the chance again?
My head throbs, it's a familiar throb that comes with a hangover. I feel achy, sore...I wonder exactly how much I drank last night...But did I even go out the night before? No, I couldn't have...I remember swearing to myself I was going to have a nice night alone like I used to...and then make up some stories to share with Ludwig in the morning.
I lay there in the unfamiliar bed, my mind hazy as I try to go over the events of the night before...I was home, having a couple beers by myself, just getting buzzed alone...
A knock the door.
--AUSTRIA.
That's who it was. I remember that little twirl of hair, and that violet coat. And those glasses. Yeah, I remember now.
I opened my eyes, and I start to get up, I'm sore, so fucking sore. It's like I've been ass raped with a garden hose or something. Fucking painful--and then I wonder. Did...Did I get laid? Fuck, no way. No fucking way. Not by Austria. He couldn't. He can't even top his ex-wife--though I doubt I could top that woman. She'd probably have me on my knees in seconds and hog tied, with that fuckin' frying pan handle shoved up my ass. SHUT UP FUCKIN' COCK. I DON'T WANT THAT.--fuckin' wimp. I don't know whose bed I'm in, but it's plush and comfortable. It's low to the ground, with a dark, oak frame with floral carving into the headboard. The sheets, comforter and pillows are all of the most pristine white, and the rest of the room is just as dark as the bed frame. This bed, and my body are the brightest thing in this room.
I start to sit up--I freeze, something isn't right.
I'm undressed, and one of my arms is chained to the headboard. I feel the blood rush from my face. I'm suddenly very cold, and I'm wondering just exactly what the hell is going on. There is no way that Austria did this to me--
"Good Morning, Gilbert." I hear that suave, elegant accented voice, and my head jerks. In the doorway, dressed as properly as ever is the Austrian bastard, standing there, poised, polite and with this look of...god, I don't know how to describe it.
But his expression reminds me of Russia. It's terrifying almost.
"Did you sleep well?" he asks, calmly, approaching the bed, his coat drifting with a slight swish as his boots thump against the floor. His arm flows out from his side, and a leather-gloved hand runs along the footboard of the bed, his expression blank, as if he's deep in thought. But, no, Austria's not deep in thought. Not in the slightest. His blankness is foreboding
"Roderich, what the hell am I doing here?" I ask sharply, ignoring his question all together.
Austria smiles, his head lifting as to view me directly in the eye.
"I've had enough of your smart aleck cockiness, Gilbert." he echoes, those words drifting in the air. "I feel it's time you learned your place."
And as he says these words...I no longer smell Fritz.
This is perfect. I wish I could say that it's exactly what I requested, but I didn't even have much in mind when I requested this. Hnnnngh please continue, writer!anon! Looking forward to more! <3 <3
The smell of these sheets was unfamiliar. But yet, it reminded me of my past...But which part of my past? Not the fighting, nah, not any of that...But more of the comforting times of my history. I think their scent reminded me of Fritz...God, that had to be it. The smell was so much like his. So welcoming but so musky. My bed hadn't had this scent in years. I can't remember the last time I could smell Fritz on my sheets...I just remember having woken up one day and his scent was gone. And it would be gone forever. My great king was forever gone and in a sense, as was I. But Fritz was human, and I was a nation. Human beings have their bodies die and decay--god, looking at Katte that day, that was all the proof I needed to know that human beings die and they're so much more fragile than nations. Their bodies can crumble and can be so easily destroyed, crushed and severed, and that head falling from that young man's shoulders still remains fresh in my mind as a reminder of human life. However...as a nation, your body never really dies. Your name just is removed from the map, sometimes you're renamed...But in my case, I don't even know if I was totally renamed. Some say that I'm joined with Ludwig now as East Germany...But...I don't want to believe that I'm just a half. I want to be whole. Will I ever get the chance again?
My head throbs, it's a familiar throb that comes with a hangover. I feel achy, sore...I wonder exactly how much I drank last night...But did I even go out the night before? No, I couldn't have...I remember swearing to myself I was going to have a nice night alone like I used to...and then make up some stories to share with Ludwig in the morning.
I lay there in the unfamiliar bed, my mind hazy as I try to go over the events of the night before...I was home, having a couple beers by myself, just getting buzzed alone...
A knock the door.
--AUSTRIA.
That's who it was. I remember that little twirl of hair, and that violet coat. And those glasses. Yeah, I remember now.
I opened my eyes, and I start to get up, I'm sore, so fucking sore. It's like I've been ass raped with a garden hose or something. Fucking painful--and then I wonder. Did...Did I get laid? Fuck, no way. No fucking way. Not by Austria. He couldn't. He can't even top his ex-wife--though I doubt I could top that woman. She'd probably have me on my knees in seconds and hog tied, with that fuckin' frying pan handle shoved up my ass. SHUT UP FUCKIN' COCK. I DON'T WANT THAT.--fuckin' wimp. I don't know whose bed I'm in, but it's plush and comfortable. It's low to the ground, with a dark, oak frame with floral carving into the headboard. The sheets, comforter and pillows are all of the most pristine white, and the rest of the room is just as dark as the bed frame. This bed, and my body are the brightest thing in this room.
I start to sit up--I freeze, something isn't right.
I'm undressed, and one of my arms is chained to the headboard. I feel the blood rush from my face. I'm suddenly very cold, and I'm wondering just exactly what the hell is going on. There is no way that Austria did this to me--
"Good Morning, Gilbert." I hear that suave, elegant accented voice, and my head jerks. In the doorway, dressed as properly as ever is the Austrian bastard, standing there, poised, polite and with this look of...god, I don't know how to describe it.
But his expression reminds me of Russia. It's terrifying almost.
"Did you sleep well?" he asks, calmly, approaching the bed, his coat drifting with a slight swish as his boots thump against the floor. His arm flows out from his side, and a leather-gloved hand runs along the footboard of the bed, his expression blank, as if he's deep in thought. But, no, Austria's not deep in thought. Not in the slightest. His blankness is foreboding
"Roderich, what the hell am I doing here?" I ask sharply, ignoring his question all together.
Austria smiles, his head lifting as to view me directly in the eye.
"I've had enough of your smart aleck cockiness, Gilbert." he echoes, those words drifting in the air. "I feel it's time you learned your place."
And as he says these words...I no longer smell Fritz.
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Hope for more <3
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