Dressed as Clara Stahlbaum for what's supposed to be a rather private exhibition of her pointe technique on a small stage, hair loose and curled rather than braided and glasses done away with for the time being, the tiny principality could nearly pass for a preteen from the distance her audience of one sits.
The stage is set, appropriately enough, as a parlor belonging to a wealthy nineteenth century family, with couches and tables and a massive, glittering Christmas tree rising from behind them. Monaco flits about the stage, weightless and sylph-like, performing a solo routine that truthfully has nothing to do with The Nutcracker at all, and one would never realize how crazy that inconspicuous little branch of mistletoe hanging over center stage is driving her.
The journey to the dressing room is a bit longer than Monaco anticipated, having been so excited before her little performance that she'd made it from there to the stage in what felt like no time at all. But now she leads Spain through the hallways at an easier pace, expecting to get to the dressing room sooner than they really do. But once they're there, she leaves Spain before the mirror, her own cosmetics still out on the long table pushed up right against it, and busies herself searching a large rack of hanging costumes for what she was sure she saw not even half an hour previous.
Soon enough, she's found the heavy cape of the Mouse King amidst the other colorful clothes for the same show, dresses for flowers and angels and dewdrops mixed with a number of national costumes (she pointedly ignores the outfit resembling a traje de luces for the Spanish Hot Chocolate Dance; too uncreative). She holds the cape up before Spain, an expectant smile on her face as she assesses the look on his own
( ... )
Monaco digs through the numerous costumes and finally comes up with, yes, a deep purple cape fit for a king. Its velvet material shimmers elegantly in the light and Spain has no doubt that it would feel very fine under his fingers. He laughs as she mentions a crown just as he approaches to examine the cape further.
"I do like capes and this is a rather fine one, thank you." He tells her with good humor just as he takes the cape in hand. It's not quite as fine as the ones he has owned long ago, obviously, but in a time when clothes for men have a different definition for "elegant," the cape makes a nostalgic difference. He slips it on, doing it with a matador's grace, letting it fall gently over his shoulders. After making adjustments, he straightens for Monaco's inspection, adopting his most haughty, kingly look.
"Do I look kingly enough?" He asks her, looking at her from over his nose (which is rather easy) and trying hard not to laugh.
"Not quite," she replies with a small giggle of her own, pressing her fingertips to her mouth. The expression on Spain's face is cutely forced, out of practice as he is. Monaco remembers his previous mastery of that look, though she can honestly say she prefers he only use it in jest now.
With a little smile and a bounce of her ringlets, she moves to retrieve the crown and sword from their shelf. While the saber is quite obviously made of plastic (no need for any mishaps in front of an audience), the crown is actually metal, with an inlay of the same purple velvet as the cape beneath the half-arches. Monaco weighs is in her hands for a moment before returning to Spain with it and slipping his shoddy weapon into his hand. Then she's up on her toes again, placing the surprisingly heavy crown atop his wild curls
"There," she proclaims, stepping back and sinking down into a little curtsy despite it being completely out of character for their current roles. "Now you are ready to die an honorable death at the hand of a wooden man."
The look drops completely at her giggle and Spain joins her in laughing at his failed attempt at looking kingly. He doubts he looks anything less than an idiot, but that's okay. It's nice to see Monaco looking so happy and carefree. The costume must be doing something for her too.
Soon, she comes up to him to complete the look with a sword and a crown. He has the opportunity to give the sword an experimental swing (feeling a twinge of disappointment at how it's obviously fake and far too light for his grip) before she tiptoes to put the crown on his head. Obligingly, he leans down a little to make her task easier, reaching then with a hand to steady the crown as he straightens.
A hand by the crown, he looks down to her as she speaks and he raises the sword, happy enough to play along. "I shall not let myself be killed so easily!" He doesn't know if he should die easily, but he figures he'll give a pretty good show first before he's vanquished to his honorable death.
4~ ...IF THIS IS STILL OKAY.... ;A;peronotecallasDecember 4 2011, 23:06:07 UTC
Beautiful.
If Spain had to describe Monaco's performance in just one word, it would be beautiful. But of course, Spain is never one to just say one word and then shut up. No, that just isn't like Spain at all. From the moment Monaco had given the invitation, Spain had been completely excited to see her perform, especially after hearing so many things regarding her grace and ability. Spain never doubted for a second that everything that he heard was true.
Well, everything she heard, if one must be "technical." After receiving Monaco's invitation, poor Spain underwent yet another transformation. She's probably lost count as to how many times this has happened but thankfully, Monaco has been there every step of the way, making sure she looks decent and presentable. She even made it her business to give Spain a few etiquette lessons-- however successful or unsuccessful those might have been.
Spain sits alone on her seat, wearing one of the outfits that Monaco was so kind to buy for her after the first time she encountered Spain in this
( ... )
IT IS ALWAYS OKAY, idk where you got the idea that it wasn't. ;3;notunaforyouDecember 5 2011, 14:09:59 UTC
Truthfully, the transformations always throw Monaco off a bit. While Spain seems to handle them well (no emotional problems or issues with identity are ever apparent), they're a different story for the principality. She always worries about why exactly such a thing continues to happen to her sweetheart, as well as whether or not she'll be the next one to undergo a massive physical change. With a mental state as undependable as hers is, Monaco is certain she'll experience some kind of a breakdown should she awake one morning in a man's body. She tries to convince herself such a thing wouldn't be detrimental to her, in part by acting as if it's not entirely odd and unnatural whenever it happens to Spain
( ... )
/BOTHERS FOREVER ;o;peronotecallasDecember 6 2011, 06:46:13 UTC
It's a strange phenomenon that Spain goes through- a body that completely changes at will. Perhaps one could blame all of the shenanigans that the Iberian nation previously got into before entering the hotel. What with being trapped in an unidentifiable place filled mysterious faceless people who often offer things that one should not even bother taking due to potential consequences. Regardless of whatever it may have been, Spain doesn't think much of identity when this happens. The way she sees it, this has happened so often that she has no issues with who she really is. She simply shrugs it off in a, "Ok, I'm a girl now, ahahaha!" sort of way. Spain has no crisis with identity because as a nation, it isn't even that big of a deal. If Monaco were to ever come across such a transformation, however, Spain would be by her side, reassuring that everything is okay
( ... )
/writes you really sucky tags, for some reason...notunaforyouDecember 6 2011, 10:24:28 UTC
The bouquet of flowers being presented to her is massive, Monaco realizes as she hefts it up; she needs to use both her arms to hold everything in place, making herself look even smaller in comparison. Indeed, with her hair curled into little golden ringlets, pulled back from her face with a white ribbon, and a dress covered in peach-colored frills and ruffles to hide her silhouette, Monaco could truly be mistaken for a child at first glance. Such was her intention, however, in an attempt to play the part of a girl literally thousands of years her junior.
She smiles down almost apologetically at Spain as she recounts the epic adventure of her battle with the dreaded kitten heels, the constant presence of the mistletoe behind her a nagging reminder that she has Something She Needs To Do soon or else she'll have let someone, somewhere, down. Despite her somewhat divided attention, though, she takes a moment to look Spain's head over for any bumps, though with her hair tied loosely back, it's impossible to tell if she really did hurt
( ... )
/takes forever to reply =7= /gives you even suckier tagsperonotecallasDecember 14 2011, 05:17:54 UTC
"Huh?" Spain cocks her head to the side, tapping her chin as though she has to actually think about her answer. While she did somehow manage to knock her head against the wall, to say that it'd cause an inconvenience would be a lie. Spain has a thick skull and a simple bump to the head is nothing compared to whatever other stupid injuries the nation has gone through.
"Pffft, I'm fine!" She says after a short pause, looking around the room again for some way to get onto the stage. There aren't any stairs and she can't seem to find any doors that would lead her up to the stage via a passageway either. She contemplates what to do for a short moment before deciding that the stage wasn't too high at all-- about a little more than three feet high. So, while it may not be the best or most graceful way to go about it, Spain rests her hands on the edge and quickly hoists herself up onto it.
She stands next to Monaco, now at her level with a bright smile on her face, "See?"
#finalsweeknotunaforyouDecember 15 2011, 03:37:46 UTC
If she knows Spain (and she likes to think she does), she figures it's more likely the wall is the one who needs to be worried about after that little mishap, but a mysterious feeling of overprotectiveness seems to cloud Monaco's judgment regarding the woman standing before her these days. It's hard to explain, and she's not even sure why she feels that way, considering Spain is more than capable of taking care of both herself and Monaco, but even as she watches her clamber up onto the stage, hesitantly moving toward her with the intent of offering assistance, Monaco can't help but murmur a quiet bid for Spain not to hurt herself.
Once she's standing safely on the stage, though, Monaco finds herself mirroring the smile on her lover's face as her anxieties dissipate.
"Well," she says obligingly, tilting her head and drawing out the syllable, making her way over to Spain. A small hand settles at the curve of her waist, that long-awaited physical contact making Monaco feel slightly warm inside. She could easily stand up on her tiptoes
( ... )
/kicks finalsperonotecallasDecember 15 2011, 05:28:32 UTC
Well, it isn't as though Monaco's worries can be considered completely unusual. Spain can be rather clumsy sometimes thanks to her carelessness. So while she is perfectly capable of taking care of the both of them, it's not like she doesn't take a few tumbles and such. She could benefit from being just a tad more cautious from time to time, but that just isn't her style. She'll just remain carefree and hardheaded.
Spain feels Monaco's hand and the touch tingles in her skin through her clothes. She leans in, letting their foreheads touch. Her smile never falters as she wraps her arms around Monaco's waist, "That's because I am!" She says, her tone just a little softer and a laugh accompanying her words, "I can take a hit!"
/kicks sleepinessnotunaforyouDecember 15 2011, 06:17:26 UTC
Monaco giggles softly, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth as she turns her face away almost shyly so she can laugh. The other hand, however, tightens its grip on Spain's waist just slightly, a nearly involuntary action that nudges them even closer together.
"I would rather you not have to," Monaco admits affectionately, looking back up at her. The lights from the Christmas tree at the back of the stage reflect off her eyes as she gazes up at Spain, tiny glints of white-gold brightness that twinkle whenever Monaco's gaze shifts.
/kicks....some other thing!peronotecallasDecember 15 2011, 06:37:02 UTC
Even though Spain appears to not react to Monaco's tightened grip, she feels as though she's much more aware of it than she normally would be. Not that that's a bad thing, no, but for some reason, her desire to touch and be touched is slowly increasing.
She lets out a small, playful snort at what Monaco says next, finding such a confession to be nothing short of adorable. As they stay in their current position for a few moments, Spain wants nothing more than to just get even closer to her. While she's still unaware of the mistletoe, the urge to press her lips to her lover's rises anyway. And so, she does just that. It's a soft peck, but her lips still linger against Monaco's as she smiles and replies softly, "Well then, I'll try to be careful!"
/...it goes into the goal /and then you win the World Cup!notunaforyouDecember 15 2011, 07:08:06 UTC
She barely has time to laugh again herself before Spain is kissing her, catching her almost by surprise and swallowing up her chuckle before it even leaves her mouth. Her lips are so soft and warm against Monaco's own, and they give her just the tiniest taste of the one thing that's been on her mind since she first found herself on the stage beneath the mistletoe.
So taken is Monaco with that gentle little kiss that she cannot force herself to tell Spain how much she appreciates the other's efforts to take better care of herself. She leans forward, capturing Spain's lips all on her own this time, those full, red lips she loves so dearly, a hand finding her lover's cheek to cup it delicately and keep her from moving away again so soon.
/keeps the trophy for the rest of her life OuOperonotecallasDecember 15 2011, 07:28:39 UTC
From the second Spain first pulled away, she had means to just lean in and give Monaco a more proper, more sensual kiss. The desire to touch, touch and just continue touching her becomes overwhelming and before she can get on with her intentions, Monaco already does the job for her. She responds happily, letting the kiss go nice and slow so as not to seem to eager.
But even then, Spain can feel herself gradually deepening the kiss, reveling the sweetness of Monaco's lips and the softness of her hand against her cheek. Slowly, ever so slowly, one of Spain's hands travels up Monaco's side, making its way to her chest as the kiss continues.
The stage is set, appropriately enough, as a parlor belonging to a wealthy nineteenth century family, with couches and tables and a massive, glittering Christmas tree rising from behind them. Monaco flits about the stage, weightless and sylph-like, performing a solo routine that truthfully has nothing to do with The Nutcracker at all, and one would never realize how crazy that inconspicuous little branch of mistletoe hanging over center stage is driving her.
Reply
Soon enough, she's found the heavy cape of the Mouse King amidst the other colorful clothes for the same show, dresses for flowers and angels and dewdrops mixed with a number of national costumes (she pointedly ignores the outfit resembling a traje de luces for the Spanish Hot Chocolate Dance; too uncreative). She holds the cape up before Spain, an expectant smile on her face as she assesses the look on his own ( ... )
Reply
"I do like capes and this is a rather fine one, thank you." He tells her with good humor just as he takes the cape in hand. It's not quite as fine as the ones he has owned long ago, obviously, but in a time when clothes for men have a different definition for "elegant," the cape makes a nostalgic difference. He slips it on, doing it with a matador's grace, letting it fall gently over his shoulders. After making adjustments, he straightens for Monaco's inspection, adopting his most haughty, kingly look.
"Do I look kingly enough?" He asks her, looking at her from over his nose (which is rather easy) and trying hard not to laugh.
Reply
With a little smile and a bounce of her ringlets, she moves to retrieve the crown and sword from their shelf. While the saber is quite obviously made of plastic (no need for any mishaps in front of an audience), the crown is actually metal, with an inlay of the same purple velvet as the cape beneath the half-arches. Monaco weighs is in her hands for a moment before returning to Spain with it and slipping his shoddy weapon into his hand. Then she's up on her toes again, placing the surprisingly heavy crown atop his wild curls
"There," she proclaims, stepping back and sinking down into a little curtsy despite it being completely out of character for their current roles. "Now you are ready to die an honorable death at the hand of a wooden man."
Reply
Soon, she comes up to him to complete the look with a sword and a crown. He has the opportunity to give the sword an experimental swing (feeling a twinge of disappointment at how it's obviously fake and far too light for his grip) before she tiptoes to put the crown on his head. Obligingly, he leans down a little to make her task easier, reaching then with a hand to steady the crown as he straightens.
A hand by the crown, he looks down to her as she speaks and he raises the sword, happy enough to play along. "I shall not let myself be killed so easily!" He doesn't know if he should die easily, but he figures he'll give a pretty good show first before he's vanquished to his honorable death.
Reply
If Spain had to describe Monaco's performance in just one word, it would be beautiful. But of course, Spain is never one to just say one word and then shut up. No, that just isn't like Spain at all. From the moment Monaco had given the invitation, Spain had been completely excited to see her perform, especially after hearing so many things regarding her grace and ability. Spain never doubted for a second that everything that he heard was true.
Well, everything she heard, if one must be "technical." After receiving Monaco's invitation, poor Spain underwent yet another transformation. She's probably lost count as to how many times this has happened but thankfully, Monaco has been there every step of the way, making sure she looks decent and presentable. She even made it her business to give Spain a few etiquette lessons-- however successful or unsuccessful those might have been.
Spain sits alone on her seat, wearing one of the outfits that Monaco was so kind to buy for her after the first time she encountered Spain in this ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
She smiles down almost apologetically at Spain as she recounts the epic adventure of her battle with the dreaded kitten heels, the constant presence of the mistletoe behind her a nagging reminder that she has Something She Needs To Do soon or else she'll have let someone, somewhere, down. Despite her somewhat divided attention, though, she takes a moment to look Spain's head over for any bumps, though with her hair tied loosely back, it's impossible to tell if she really did hurt ( ... )
Reply
"Pffft, I'm fine!" She says after a short pause, looking around the room again for some way to get onto the stage. There aren't any stairs and she can't seem to find any doors that would lead her up to the stage via a passageway either. She contemplates what to do for a short moment before deciding that the stage wasn't too high at all-- about a little more than three feet high. So, while it may not be the best or most graceful way to go about it, Spain rests her hands on the edge and quickly hoists herself up onto it.
She stands next to Monaco, now at her level with a bright smile on her face, "See?"
Reply
Once she's standing safely on the stage, though, Monaco finds herself mirroring the smile on her lover's face as her anxieties dissipate.
"Well," she says obligingly, tilting her head and drawing out the syllable, making her way over to Spain. A small hand settles at the curve of her waist, that long-awaited physical contact making Monaco feel slightly warm inside. She could easily stand up on her tiptoes ( ... )
Reply
Spain feels Monaco's hand and the touch tingles in her skin through her clothes. She leans in, letting their foreheads touch. Her smile never falters as she wraps her arms around Monaco's waist, "That's because I am!" She says, her tone just a little softer and a laugh accompanying her words, "I can take a hit!"
Reply
"I would rather you not have to," Monaco admits affectionately, looking back up at her. The lights from the Christmas tree at the back of the stage reflect off her eyes as she gazes up at Spain, tiny glints of white-gold brightness that twinkle whenever Monaco's gaze shifts.
Reply
She lets out a small, playful snort at what Monaco says next, finding such a confession to be nothing short of adorable. As they stay in their current position for a few moments, Spain wants nothing more than to just get even closer to her. While she's still unaware of the mistletoe, the urge to press her lips to her lover's rises anyway. And so, she does just that. It's a soft peck, but her lips still linger against Monaco's as she smiles and replies softly, "Well then, I'll try to be careful!"
Reply
So taken is Monaco with that gentle little kiss that she cannot force herself to tell Spain how much she appreciates the other's efforts to take better care of herself. She leans forward, capturing Spain's lips all on her own this time, those full, red lips she loves so dearly, a hand finding her lover's cheek to cup it delicately and keep her from moving away again so soon.
Reply
But even then, Spain can feel herself gradually deepening the kiss, reveling the sweetness of Monaco's lips and the softness of her hand against her cheek. Slowly, ever so slowly, one of Spain's hands travels up Monaco's side, making its way to her chest as the kiss continues.
Reply
Leave a comment