http://emmy8495.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
emmy8495.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hetalia2010-11-25 01:03 am
emmy8495.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-11-25 01:03 am
Entry tags:
[Fanfic] Island of Nations
Title: Island of Nations
Author: emmy8495
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Island, a nation (that is very easy to identify)
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: The peaceful existence of the Island could never last forever.
A/N: I'm writing a serious story about That F*cking Island with no plot. Save me.
The Island sat alone and miserable, staring out at the seemingly endless sea. It had many names, most of which the Island hated. The favorite among the nations was That Fucking Island, a name that broke the Island every time it was uttered.
The nations, they did not understand the true power of the Island. Long ago when it had just risen above the harsh ocean water, its creator had blessed it with a name: Island of Nations, a name never to be spoken to another land. The Island’s purpose was singularly to give a place for the nations to come and be safe from the rest of the world. The Island was impossible to locate by the mapping objects the humans created, and only the older of the nations were told the secret of its purpose.
The Island wished with a whistle of wind that someday it could be honored for its beautiful purpose. While the rest of the world falls into chaos and destruction, never will the Island deteriorate. At any moment the Island could place a nation on its surface and, all the same, show other nations ways to the Island.
The Island had lost count in how long it had tried to show the nations its importance and peacefulness. Not a soul ever noticed how, once the nations left, it would fall back into the exact state it had been when they arrived. Never did they realize the extent of the Island’s power, even those lucky enough to harness magic.
The Island startled into awareness of something upon its surface. Was that a pipe? Just beyond the Island reaches, a boat was coming ashore by rowing of a pipe. The closer the boat came to the shore, the more of the man - and it was definitely a man - came to the mind of the Island. Tall, blond, and dressed much too warmly for the Island’s weather, the nation stepped out of his boat.
The Island stilled in shock at the nation upon its surface. Only the ancient nations knew the way to the Island unguided. How could this nation know how to–
The nation was laughing, laughing at the Island, like he knew its inner thoughts. Impossible.
“Foolish Island,” the nation murmured to himself, well aware that any sound he uttered would be heard by the land he stood on. He calmly walked towards the greenery and sunk down into the sand against a tree. He hummed a song quietly, watching and waiting.
The trees swished in the wind, restless. The Island, too, watched and waited. Dread filled its existence for the first time since its creator had blessed it unique.
Author: emmy8495
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Island, a nation (that is very easy to identify)
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: The peaceful existence of the Island could never last forever.
A/N: I'm writing a serious story about That F*cking Island with no plot. Save me.
The Island sat alone and miserable, staring out at the seemingly endless sea. It had many names, most of which the Island hated. The favorite among the nations was That Fucking Island, a name that broke the Island every time it was uttered.
The nations, they did not understand the true power of the Island. Long ago when it had just risen above the harsh ocean water, its creator had blessed it with a name: Island of Nations, a name never to be spoken to another land. The Island’s purpose was singularly to give a place for the nations to come and be safe from the rest of the world. The Island was impossible to locate by the mapping objects the humans created, and only the older of the nations were told the secret of its purpose.
The Island wished with a whistle of wind that someday it could be honored for its beautiful purpose. While the rest of the world falls into chaos and destruction, never will the Island deteriorate. At any moment the Island could place a nation on its surface and, all the same, show other nations ways to the Island.
The Island had lost count in how long it had tried to show the nations its importance and peacefulness. Not a soul ever noticed how, once the nations left, it would fall back into the exact state it had been when they arrived. Never did they realize the extent of the Island’s power, even those lucky enough to harness magic.
The Island startled into awareness of something upon its surface. Was that a pipe? Just beyond the Island reaches, a boat was coming ashore by rowing of a pipe. The closer the boat came to the shore, the more of the man - and it was definitely a man - came to the mind of the Island. Tall, blond, and dressed much too warmly for the Island’s weather, the nation stepped out of his boat.
The Island stilled in shock at the nation upon its surface. Only the ancient nations knew the way to the Island unguided. How could this nation know how to–
The nation was laughing, laughing at the Island, like he knew its inner thoughts. Impossible.
“Foolish Island,” the nation murmured to himself, well aware that any sound he uttered would be heard by the land he stood on. He calmly walked towards the greenery and sunk down into the sand against a tree. He hummed a song quietly, watching and waiting.
The trees swished in the wind, restless. The Island, too, watched and waited. Dread filled its existence for the first time since its creator had blessed it unique.
no subject