Post by haley. on Mar 10, 2010 15:07:27 GMT -5
There's a list of prompts on LJ that I found, and it's AMAZING AND INSPIRING so I took one and wrote some PruLux, because I really want to write more of that pairing, but it's all... embarrassing. ;A;
Anyway, uh, I hope you like it!
X X X X X X X X X X X
Duong jai
[translation: one who climbs inside the heart]
God, it had lasted years.
Years of fighting and bickering and stray touches she never knew if she enjoyed or not. Years and years and years of mopping up blood and spilling it the next day, of contradicting herself and the fighters and the captains, of crying when she was pretending not to, of yelling and whispering and even singing sometimes, but the point was… It had lasted years.
And now it was ending.
“You’re not going to come back alive,” she wanted to tell him. But the words never escaped her lips. Instead, she squirmed where she sat, watching him put his hats on and off until he found one he liked. She had never felt so alive, because she knew that death was staring them in the face, and that is when the cowards are truly shown to the world.
And she was on hell of a coward.
He was not. Or maybe he was just excellent at not showing it. Or maybe he was just blind to realize it. Yes, that had to be it, she concluded. He only acknowledged what he wanted to, and victory was always clear as day to him.
After a few moments of biting her lip and of opening and closing her mouth, she looked up, sitting tall, and said, more clearly than she thought she’d be able to say, “Prussia.”
He looked back to face her, one of his two faces. His first face was a face that told of never-ending optimism, of a large ego but of a childish sort of wonder that excused it sometimes. Of humor, no matter how bad that was sometimes, of an admirable striving to live and succeed, and of a comical want to display affection and encourage others. The second face stripped away mercifulness, leaving pride and egoism for all to see. It was predatory, selfish, but self-assured. Right now, he wore the first.
Absent-mindedly adjusting his hat again, he turned to look at her fully, and his shoes clicked against the wooden surface softly, as if to remind the two of them the world was not completely silent. “What’s ‘a matter?” he asked, an odd, light sort of concern glazing his features.
Her eyes went back to the floor, darting around the wooden tiles as if her answer to him were lying at her feet. She had so much to say, but not enough will to push it out.
“You’re nervous,” he said, a rather self-aggrandizing smile on his lips she could hear in his voice. “You may not be fully mine now, but you’re still my responsibility, Luxembourg. So don’t worry about—“
“I’m not worried about myself,” She said, again with much more conviction then she felt. “I won’t be even on the main front. What do I have to be worried about?”
He stared at her. Decked in his cap, in his boots, in those expensive pants he had bought with Spain’s money once, in a favorite hat of his, in leather belts that would hold his sword, in a complicated outfit that would inspire his soldiers and scare off the enemy. And in front of him, she was sitting on a trunk that held treasures from his life, and maybe a little from her life, and if you dug deep enough, from their life. She looked strong, looked self-assured, looked damn beautiful, dressed in a uniform that had been made for her not too long ago from when she was staying with the Netherlands. Mostly brown, not like his silver and red and blue and amazing outfit. Her garments were thick but simple, striking but straight-forward. She wasn’t a child anymore.
And she did have something to worry about. If Prussia fell, who’s to say Russia’s iron grip wouldn’t snake itself throughout the rest of Europe? He would dissolve, she would merge – and there is a big difference between the two. He wouldn’t get a chance to take control of her if this battle didn’t go his way. His people and hers were riding on this. He almost grew light-headed at the thought, convincing himself how awesome he was. All thoughts except his prowess left.
“You’re a bastard, Gilbert,” She stated, looking up at him, fully knowing that he recognized her words as not an insult. “Much as most people these days hate Russia, you could stand to have a lot more allies. And what’s sad is that you honestly think you can do this on your own. You’re good, but you’re not…”
Suddenly all that conviction left, and she was left staring into the eyes of the man in front of her, who returned her stare with an incredulous look. She sighed. “You’re not that good.”
“You never have any faith,” he accused, leaving out the ‘in me’ he wanted to add to the statement. “You’re so negative. I am that good. I’m—“
“Awesome, I know.” She hung her head, ruffling her own hair, then letting the thick curls fall back onto her shoulder. “Listen, just… don’t do anything reckless. I know when you get out there, you’re gonna get all these crazy ideas and I just—“
A yellow ball of fluff was gently placed in her hands, and she sucked in a breath when she realized there was a shadow being cast on her, blocking the direct sunlight the other had been watching her in. In such close proximity, Lara mentally cursed the universe for letting her be so soft-hearted, so stupid as to let someone as reckless and idiotic as Gilbert snake himself this close to her, emotionally and physically. Like the little thief he was, he had planted seeds of trust and doubt and l—love all around throughout the years, and it had manifested here, now, as he tangled his gloved fingers in the thick curls and planted a too-gentle kiss onto the top of her head.
“Faith, liebeling,” he whispered, before walking out the doorway. “I’ll meet you outside.”
She was completely frozen. For what seemed like hours, she watched his small bird chirp and flutter in her hands. Her memories flooded like a dam, and once she heard him close the large, loud, front door, she brought the bird up to her face, feeling the fluttering wings against her cheeks, and burst into tears she’d been holding in for years and years and years.
Anyway, uh, I hope you like it!
X X X X X X X X X X X
Duong jai
[translation: one who climbs inside the heart]
God, it had lasted years.
Years of fighting and bickering and stray touches she never knew if she enjoyed or not. Years and years and years of mopping up blood and spilling it the next day, of contradicting herself and the fighters and the captains, of crying when she was pretending not to, of yelling and whispering and even singing sometimes, but the point was… It had lasted years.
And now it was ending.
“You’re not going to come back alive,” she wanted to tell him. But the words never escaped her lips. Instead, she squirmed where she sat, watching him put his hats on and off until he found one he liked. She had never felt so alive, because she knew that death was staring them in the face, and that is when the cowards are truly shown to the world.
And she was on hell of a coward.
He was not. Or maybe he was just excellent at not showing it. Or maybe he was just blind to realize it. Yes, that had to be it, she concluded. He only acknowledged what he wanted to, and victory was always clear as day to him.
After a few moments of biting her lip and of opening and closing her mouth, she looked up, sitting tall, and said, more clearly than she thought she’d be able to say, “Prussia.”
He looked back to face her, one of his two faces. His first face was a face that told of never-ending optimism, of a large ego but of a childish sort of wonder that excused it sometimes. Of humor, no matter how bad that was sometimes, of an admirable striving to live and succeed, and of a comical want to display affection and encourage others. The second face stripped away mercifulness, leaving pride and egoism for all to see. It was predatory, selfish, but self-assured. Right now, he wore the first.
Absent-mindedly adjusting his hat again, he turned to look at her fully, and his shoes clicked against the wooden surface softly, as if to remind the two of them the world was not completely silent. “What’s ‘a matter?” he asked, an odd, light sort of concern glazing his features.
Her eyes went back to the floor, darting around the wooden tiles as if her answer to him were lying at her feet. She had so much to say, but not enough will to push it out.
“You’re nervous,” he said, a rather self-aggrandizing smile on his lips she could hear in his voice. “You may not be fully mine now, but you’re still my responsibility, Luxembourg. So don’t worry about—“
“I’m not worried about myself,” She said, again with much more conviction then she felt. “I won’t be even on the main front. What do I have to be worried about?”
He stared at her. Decked in his cap, in his boots, in those expensive pants he had bought with Spain’s money once, in a favorite hat of his, in leather belts that would hold his sword, in a complicated outfit that would inspire his soldiers and scare off the enemy. And in front of him, she was sitting on a trunk that held treasures from his life, and maybe a little from her life, and if you dug deep enough, from their life. She looked strong, looked self-assured, looked damn beautiful, dressed in a uniform that had been made for her not too long ago from when she was staying with the Netherlands. Mostly brown, not like his silver and red and blue and amazing outfit. Her garments were thick but simple, striking but straight-forward. She wasn’t a child anymore.
And she did have something to worry about. If Prussia fell, who’s to say Russia’s iron grip wouldn’t snake itself throughout the rest of Europe? He would dissolve, she would merge – and there is a big difference between the two. He wouldn’t get a chance to take control of her if this battle didn’t go his way. His people and hers were riding on this. He almost grew light-headed at the thought, convincing himself how awesome he was. All thoughts except his prowess left.
“You’re a bastard, Gilbert,” She stated, looking up at him, fully knowing that he recognized her words as not an insult. “Much as most people these days hate Russia, you could stand to have a lot more allies. And what’s sad is that you honestly think you can do this on your own. You’re good, but you’re not…”
Suddenly all that conviction left, and she was left staring into the eyes of the man in front of her, who returned her stare with an incredulous look. She sighed. “You’re not that good.”
“You never have any faith,” he accused, leaving out the ‘in me’ he wanted to add to the statement. “You’re so negative. I am that good. I’m—“
“Awesome, I know.” She hung her head, ruffling her own hair, then letting the thick curls fall back onto her shoulder. “Listen, just… don’t do anything reckless. I know when you get out there, you’re gonna get all these crazy ideas and I just—“
A yellow ball of fluff was gently placed in her hands, and she sucked in a breath when she realized there was a shadow being cast on her, blocking the direct sunlight the other had been watching her in. In such close proximity, Lara mentally cursed the universe for letting her be so soft-hearted, so stupid as to let someone as reckless and idiotic as Gilbert snake himself this close to her, emotionally and physically. Like the little thief he was, he had planted seeds of trust and doubt and l—love all around throughout the years, and it had manifested here, now, as he tangled his gloved fingers in the thick curls and planted a too-gentle kiss onto the top of her head.
“Faith, liebeling,” he whispered, before walking out the doorway. “I’ll meet you outside.”
She was completely frozen. For what seemed like hours, she watched his small bird chirp and flutter in her hands. Her memories flooded like a dam, and once she heard him close the large, loud, front door, she brought the bird up to her face, feeling the fluttering wings against her cheeks, and burst into tears she’d been holding in for years and years and years.
