Major Arcana - 3/22, 4/22
Got tangled up in RL stuff and the writing took longer than I intended... sorry guys ^_^;
Title: Major Arcana - The High Priestess (3/22)
Author: lksugui
Characters/Pairings: France, Seychelles
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. Wiki-based history research (sorry, but that's the only tool I have at hand now...). English is not my mother tongue so there might be odd sentence constructions and/or vocabulary usage.
Summary: France meets Seychelles
Notes: This is part of a project based on Tarot cards. Twenty-two drabbles/shortfics, each one related to
one major arcana (main cards) of a Tarot deck.
02 - The High Priestess (A secret - Wisdom, Serenity, Introspection, Intuition)
France, Seychelles
1756
The crystal clear water was cold as ice, but she jumped into it laughing like a little kid. Francis watched, mesmerized, paralyzed. She swam and dove like a dolphin and her dark skin glistened beautifully under the sun. Wild creatures, the ghostly sounds of the night, thunderstorms, she feared none of them. “Atalanta”, Francis sighed as he approached, his hands itching to touch that lithe body and unveil its secrets. She did not oppose to his advances but something in those deep brown eyes kept him respectful and subdued in a way only one woman had managed before.
Some days later, his king declared that she should be called Seychelles, but in his mind, Atalanta would always be her rightful name.
Title: Major Arcana - The Empress (4/22)
Author:
lksugui
Characters/Pairings: Ukraine, Russia, cameo of Lithuania
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. Wiki-based history research (sorry, but that's the only tool I have at hand now...). English is not my mother tongue so there might be odd sentence constructions and/or vocabulary usage.
Summary: Russia never leaves his scarf for a reason.
Notes: This is part of a project based on Tarot cards. Twenty-two drabbles/shortfics, each one related to
one major arcana (main cards) of a Tarot deck.
03 - The Empress (Mother - creator - nurturer)
“Why won't you take it off?”
When asked, Ivan would smile and say nothing. When Toris inadvertently tossed it into the trash can, Russia's home went into an uproar with vodka bottles flying left and right.
Day and night, the warmth of that old, battered scarf would remind Ivan of his big sister's embrace; its softness would make him dream of nestling in her arms. When they were but little enslaved countries, Ukraine would kiss the tip of his nose and tell him that everything was going to be alright, that happiness was waiting for him just around the corner, and he really, really believed.
The day Ivan stopped believing Ukraine cried painful, copious tears and left their home.
She never returned.