A Day in the Life [5/?]
anonymous
June 12 2009, 22:12:20 UTC
Arthur, in a bad mood thanks to his less-than-spectacular morning, decided that working on his embroidery would be therapeutic…and practical since he always found a way to use what he made. He -was so lost in his embroidery, that he didn’t notice a-still-long-haired-Alfred standing in front of him until the boy almost shouted “Father!”
Startled, Arthur stilled the needle and glanced at the boy. “What, Alfred? You know I don’t like being interrupted while embroidering.” Alfred shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking oddly nervous. Why was he shifting so? Alfred didn’t shift…he was always confident and never nervous. What changed? And why was his hair still long? Wasn’t Francis-Marianne, different name, remember that-supposed to have cut it? She even missed a really…long…curly…oh. This was Matthew, not Alfred.
As if he had heard his father’s thoughts, Matthew said quietly, “It’s Matthew, not Alfred. Um, maman wanted me to tell you that, um, she needs help because, ah, Alfred is being…unruly?” Before Arthur could question Matthew as to why he was acting so nervous, the boy had vanished, almost as if he had never been there in the first place. If Arthur didn’t know better, he’d swear that child knew more magic than he let on.
With a sigh, Arthur decided to put his embroidery away before heading towards the bathroom. If Alfred were being unruly, a few minutes wouldn’t make any difference, and Marianne could deal with it for that long. It’s not like it was the end of the world.
Arthur entered the bathroom expecting chaos. Instead, Alfred latched onto his right arm, Matthew his left, and the door shut behind him with an ominous ‘click’ of the lock. “I’m sorry, father. Maman made us,” Arthur thought he heard one of the boys say, but he wasn’t sure since his attention was focused on the woman in front of him. She was advancing on him, something hidden behind her back, her hair seemingly floating thanks to an impossible wind (though Arthur could see that the source was his traitorous fairy friends), and a determined gleam in her eye.
“Mon cher Arthur,” She said softly, seductively, trying, and failing, to put him at ease. “Sit, s’il te plaît.” Arthur wanted to refuse, but a gentle tug on each arm caught him off balance, forcing him to take a seat.
“Marianne, what the bloody hell is going on?” Arthur growled, attempting to remove his arms from the boys’ grips and failing. The little buggers were stronger than he thought.
“Something that is long overdue~” She sang softly, bending down to give him a peck on the nose in an oddly chaste move for the French woman.
“What-ow!” Arthur felt a sharp pinch just above his eye. Again. And again. “Ow! Francis-ow!-fucking Marianne-ow!-Bonnefoy stop! Ow! Bastard! OW! Leave my eyebrows alone!” The Nation under attack struggled, finally breaking free of his sons’ hold and quickly moving away from the tweezers by launching himself at the door.
“You fucking locked it!?” He yelled, pulling at the door hopelessly.
“Oui, bien sûr. We could not risk having you escape since your eyebrows are so…horrible!” She paused, giving a devious smile. “Mais, don’t worry. One of us has the key for when it’s all said and done. Now, stop fighting and give in.”
“Never you frog bastard!” Arthur could shout all he wanted, but the fact remained that he was still locked in a bathroom with his crazy and determined enemy-turned-wife and twin sons who were physically stronger than either of their parents. His eyebrows were doomed.
But then, the trapped-like-a-rat Nation heard a familiar tinkling laugh and a key fell into his hands. Maybe the fairies weren’t traitors after all. Quick as a flash, Arthur had the door unlocked and was gone.
“I forgot about the fairies,” Marianne said forlornly, sighing while she placed the tweezers by the sink. “But I will get those eyebrows one day. This will not be another defeat by the French!” She vowed to the empty bathroom, not noticing that the twins had snuck away, their hair still uncut.
-- I had way more fun writing that than I've had writing anything XD Pretty sure the only new French term I used was s'il te plaît which means please. If you don't understand a term, feel free to ask :)
Startled, Arthur stilled the needle and glanced at the boy. “What, Alfred? You know I don’t like being interrupted while embroidering.” Alfred shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking oddly nervous. Why was he shifting so? Alfred didn’t shift…he was always confident and never nervous. What changed? And why was his hair still long? Wasn’t Francis-Marianne, different name, remember that-supposed to have cut it? She even missed a really…long…curly…oh. This was Matthew, not Alfred.
As if he had heard his father’s thoughts, Matthew said quietly, “It’s Matthew, not Alfred. Um, maman wanted me to tell you that, um, she needs help because, ah, Alfred is being…unruly?” Before Arthur could question Matthew as to why he was acting so nervous, the boy had vanished, almost as if he had never been there in the first place. If Arthur didn’t know better, he’d swear that child knew more magic than he let on.
With a sigh, Arthur decided to put his embroidery away before heading towards the bathroom. If Alfred were being unruly, a few minutes wouldn’t make any difference, and Marianne could deal with it for that long. It’s not like it was the end of the world.
Arthur entered the bathroom expecting chaos. Instead, Alfred latched onto his right arm, Matthew his left, and the door shut behind him with an ominous ‘click’ of the lock. “I’m sorry, father. Maman made us,” Arthur thought he heard one of the boys say, but he wasn’t sure since his attention was focused on the woman in front of him. She was advancing on him, something hidden behind her back, her hair seemingly floating thanks to an impossible wind (though Arthur could see that the source was his traitorous fairy friends), and a determined gleam in her eye.
“Mon cher Arthur,” She said softly, seductively, trying, and failing, to put him at ease. “Sit, s’il te plaît.” Arthur wanted to refuse, but a gentle tug on each arm caught him off balance, forcing him to take a seat.
“Marianne, what the bloody hell is going on?” Arthur growled, attempting to remove his arms from the boys’ grips and failing. The little buggers were stronger than he thought.
“Something that is long overdue~” She sang softly, bending down to give him a peck on the nose in an oddly chaste move for the French woman.
“What-ow!” Arthur felt a sharp pinch just above his eye. Again. And again. “Ow! Francis-ow!-fucking Marianne-ow!-Bonnefoy stop! Ow! Bastard! OW! Leave my eyebrows alone!” The Nation under attack struggled, finally breaking free of his sons’ hold and quickly moving away from the tweezers by launching himself at the door.
“You fucking locked it!?” He yelled, pulling at the door hopelessly.
“Oui, bien sûr. We could not risk having you escape since your eyebrows are so…horrible!” She paused, giving a devious smile. “Mais, don’t worry. One of us has the key for when it’s all said and done. Now, stop fighting and give in.”
“Never you frog bastard!” Arthur could shout all he wanted, but the fact remained that he was still locked in a bathroom with his crazy and determined enemy-turned-wife and twin sons who were physically stronger than either of their parents. His eyebrows were doomed.
But then, the trapped-like-a-rat Nation heard a familiar tinkling laugh and a key fell into his hands. Maybe the fairies weren’t traitors after all. Quick as a flash, Arthur had the door unlocked and was gone.
“I forgot about the fairies,” Marianne said forlornly, sighing while she placed the tweezers by the sink. “But I will get those eyebrows one day. This will not be another defeat by the French!” She vowed to the empty bathroom, not noticing that the twins had snuck away, their hair still uncut.
--
I had way more fun writing that than I've had writing anything XD
Pretty sure the only new French term I used was s'il te plaît which means please. If you don't understand a term, feel free to ask :)
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