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hetalia2010-06-21 02:29 am
juicypuffin.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-06-21 02:29 am
Entry tags:
Fic, Art: Birthday Exercise
Author: Juicypuffin
Artist: Sybarita (Bice)
Rating: G
Summary: Drabbles and illustrations
Note: For both of us these were done in a single draft, which means we did them as fast as possible and without much editing. In addition Bice used her non-dominant hand for at least one of the drawings. It was an exercise.
Iceland cradled the phone next to his ear, unplugging the espresso machine with his other hand. He was calling Sweden, or Finland, whoever picked up first, because he hadn't decided what to talk about - that could come later, once he'd had another drink. They owed him a favour, or perhaps it was the other way around.
There was nothing to eat, so he leaned against the countertop and drew pictures with the tips of his fingers pressing against the varnish. He had tried it all before, every brand and flavour, but the only thing that had changed was the price. Once he had considered growing something of his own or trying foreign tastes, but just as quickly dismissed the thought. He had an image to uphold.
At Sweden's voice Iceland began to mumble about the weather, his co-workers and this and that, pausing in between themes to refill his glass. It took him several minutes to realise he had reached the answering machine.
xxx
When Finland visits in the mornings he brings his own newspaper, idly reading aloud while Iceland sifts through his cupboards for the coffee reserved especially for him. The early hours never disturb him - in fact, Iceland hasn't slept at all - and he wades through the clutter on his kitchen table for a place to set Finland's mug.
Books nudge against his sleeves and crowd around his chair. When Iceland stretches they shudder against his legs and tumble from piles to the walkway on the floor, a comforting disarray settling in the wake. He can't comprehend the old tongue, his eyes blurring and his mind wandering, and so the words are filled with the nuances of modern days.
He's been reading lately, something long and drawn out and reminiscent of life.
xxx
Denmark left, plastic bags crinkling and shoes dragging along the ground, and Iceland leaned against the railing of the porch. It was tourist season - the chatter of the passers-by nulling his senses - and he watched the crowd from the safety of his stairway.
He couldn't recognise a single face.
xxx
Due to Norway's presence the heater is off.
Save money he says, but Iceland is young and inexperienced and ill at ease unless he has paid for their meals, trinkets, entertainment. Norway is unable to do this himself, aimlessly waiting until some far-off day while his house is barren, his wardrobe sparse. Iceland would rather spend things while he can, the memories of poverty still lingering.
As they knit Iceland silently compares the colours and patterns, the feel of the wool, Norway's deep breathing against his own shaking gasps. Pretending to yawn, he covers his mouth with his hand and checks for warmth. Tries on a scarf, as if to check for length.
Norway leans back on the couch, sets his work to the side, and feigns sleep. Once Iceland notices he stumbles gleefully to his feet and turns the heater on, sliding next to Norway to steal his warmth.
NOTES:
Iceland does have a really nice, state-of-the-art telephone except he can't afford the payments so he doesn't use it. He also has three BMW's but he can't afford the gas so he rides the bus.
Finns have odd coffee today due to getting used to rationed versions in WWII. Or so says my Finnish friend.
Norway is known for never spending money even when he has to. In contrast Iceland is known for spending it on frivolous things and pretending he has money when he really doesn't.
Artist: Sybarita (Bice)
Rating: G
Summary: Drabbles and illustrations
Note: For both of us these were done in a single draft, which means we did them as fast as possible and without much editing. In addition Bice used her non-dominant hand for at least one of the drawings. It was an exercise.
Iceland cradled the phone next to his ear, unplugging the espresso machine with his other hand. He was calling Sweden, or Finland, whoever picked up first, because he hadn't decided what to talk about - that could come later, once he'd had another drink. They owed him a favour, or perhaps it was the other way around.
There was nothing to eat, so he leaned against the countertop and drew pictures with the tips of his fingers pressing against the varnish. He had tried it all before, every brand and flavour, but the only thing that had changed was the price. Once he had considered growing something of his own or trying foreign tastes, but just as quickly dismissed the thought. He had an image to uphold.
At Sweden's voice Iceland began to mumble about the weather, his co-workers and this and that, pausing in between themes to refill his glass. It took him several minutes to realise he had reached the answering machine.
xxx
When Finland visits in the mornings he brings his own newspaper, idly reading aloud while Iceland sifts through his cupboards for the coffee reserved especially for him. The early hours never disturb him - in fact, Iceland hasn't slept at all - and he wades through the clutter on his kitchen table for a place to set Finland's mug.
Books nudge against his sleeves and crowd around his chair. When Iceland stretches they shudder against his legs and tumble from piles to the walkway on the floor, a comforting disarray settling in the wake. He can't comprehend the old tongue, his eyes blurring and his mind wandering, and so the words are filled with the nuances of modern days.
He's been reading lately, something long and drawn out and reminiscent of life.
xxx
Denmark left, plastic bags crinkling and shoes dragging along the ground, and Iceland leaned against the railing of the porch. It was tourist season - the chatter of the passers-by nulling his senses - and he watched the crowd from the safety of his stairway.
He couldn't recognise a single face.
xxx
Due to Norway's presence the heater is off.
Save money he says, but Iceland is young and inexperienced and ill at ease unless he has paid for their meals, trinkets, entertainment. Norway is unable to do this himself, aimlessly waiting until some far-off day while his house is barren, his wardrobe sparse. Iceland would rather spend things while he can, the memories of poverty still lingering.
As they knit Iceland silently compares the colours and patterns, the feel of the wool, Norway's deep breathing against his own shaking gasps. Pretending to yawn, he covers his mouth with his hand and checks for warmth. Tries on a scarf, as if to check for length.
Norway leans back on the couch, sets his work to the side, and feigns sleep. Once Iceland notices he stumbles gleefully to his feet and turns the heater on, sliding next to Norway to steal his warmth.
NOTES:
Iceland does have a really nice, state-of-the-art telephone except he can't afford the payments so he doesn't use it. He also has three BMW's but he can't afford the gas so he rides the bus.
Finns have odd coffee today due to getting used to rationed versions in WWII. Or so says my Finnish friend.
Norway is known for never spending money even when he has to. In contrast Iceland is known for spending it on frivolous things and pretending he has money when he really doesn't.