[50 Prompts] Ashes
Title: Ashes
Author/Artist: dappledwings
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England
Rating: PG-13 ish.
Warnings: Completely unbeta'd drabblefic. May include sensitive topics.
Summary: Prompt 035. Ashes. Drabble about the Blitz.
Words: 336
It’s raining again. The whistles and the sirens drown out what would otherwise be the calming patter on the English streets. An explosion can be heard not too far away, and England has been herded down into the Underground, along with his fellow citizens. He hides from the rest as fresh wounds open across his scarred body. A child notices him, blue eyes innocent and wide as the blood spills onto the floor. He doesn’t scream, instead remaining quiet, reaching forward to touch the blood. The blond hair is darkened by soot and dust that falls softly from the ceiling in gentle spirals.
Arthur’s own green eyes widen as he realises what is about to happen, and though he would like to grab the child, he knows that he’ll be no better off under Arthur, who will be crushed to a pulp, only to recover slowly. He’ll survive, all these innocents won’t.
The first brick tumbles, the first screams cry out. Everyone dashes for the tunnels, but those are only so wide, and the rats can be seen in the shadows. No one wants to take children down there. Arthur sits waits, reaching out to the child as the Underground around him tumbles, the fiery inferno above consuming pretty much everything. But not Arthur, who remains impervious, carries out the child’s body.
The ashes from the fire rain down on him, and the tears make fresh tracks in the grey soot that covers his face. Collapsing not even feet from the fire, he is pulled away by almost disbelieving firemen and Home Front soldiers. Then he opens his eyes and they understand. While Britain still stands, the spirit will too.
The ashes don’t stop raining though. Not until morning, when Arthur treads through the streets, steeling himself for the new day. He runs the flakes through his fingers, sighing gently. All the people that died down there, they would be the unremembered, no one would honour them later. They were just tragic casualties. They were ashes.
Author/Artist: dappledwings
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England
Rating: PG-13 ish.
Warnings: Completely unbeta'd drabblefic. May include sensitive topics.
Summary: Prompt 035. Ashes. Drabble about the Blitz.
Words: 336
It’s raining again. The whistles and the sirens drown out what would otherwise be the calming patter on the English streets. An explosion can be heard not too far away, and England has been herded down into the Underground, along with his fellow citizens. He hides from the rest as fresh wounds open across his scarred body. A child notices him, blue eyes innocent and wide as the blood spills onto the floor. He doesn’t scream, instead remaining quiet, reaching forward to touch the blood. The blond hair is darkened by soot and dust that falls softly from the ceiling in gentle spirals.
Arthur’s own green eyes widen as he realises what is about to happen, and though he would like to grab the child, he knows that he’ll be no better off under Arthur, who will be crushed to a pulp, only to recover slowly. He’ll survive, all these innocents won’t.
The first brick tumbles, the first screams cry out. Everyone dashes for the tunnels, but those are only so wide, and the rats can be seen in the shadows. No one wants to take children down there. Arthur sits waits, reaching out to the child as the Underground around him tumbles, the fiery inferno above consuming pretty much everything. But not Arthur, who remains impervious, carries out the child’s body.
The ashes from the fire rain down on him, and the tears make fresh tracks in the grey soot that covers his face. Collapsing not even feet from the fire, he is pulled away by almost disbelieving firemen and Home Front soldiers. Then he opens his eyes and they understand. While Britain still stands, the spirit will too.
The ashes don’t stop raining though. Not until morning, when Arthur treads through the streets, steeling himself for the new day. He runs the flakes through his fingers, sighing gently. All the people that died down there, they would be the unremembered, no one would honour them later. They were just tragic casualties. They were ashes.