yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2009-10-17 02:53 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2009-10-17 02:53 pm
Entry tags:
10;
Title: Moonscape
Characters: Russia, America
Rating: G
“Have you ever thought about going to moon?”
“--Pardon?”
“The moon, Russia! The moon! Haven't you ever thought about that?”
The childish grin is accompanied by those sweet, (still) big blue eyes. Russia allows himself a small smile, half hidden by the shadows that accompanied the dim moonlight, and lets his eyes wander up.
“Not recently. When I was a boy, I used to think about it.”
He pauses, thinking.
“I used to know a tale about the moon.”
Subject change. America leans against Russia's side, warm and wondering, to listen to this impromptu storytelling.
“It was that God would crumble the old moon into stars every four weeks.”
“What about blue moons?”
Russia muses a little at the impatient change of conversation before he presses a kiss to the young nation's cheek.
“It was seen as something impossible. Two full moons in one month, though, were seen to throw off the harvest calender and thus disrupt the time things would be cultivated. The hen would not lay eggs until the fourth moon, for example, because it was too cold in the third.”
“That's silly.”
Russia makes a thoughtful, if slightly indignant, noise and sits up. America blinks, then sits up – had he said something to offend the guy? - and starts to apologize. It's swiftly cut off by soft kiss, and Russia rises to leave. America touches his lips thoughtfully then stands, too, and grins.
“I'm still going to reach the moon.”
“Good luck with that. If we were meant to leave this place, then we would have wings.”
The thought of soaring through the air makes America tingle in excitement.
Characters: Russia, America
Rating: G
“Have you ever thought about going to moon?”
“--Pardon?”
“The moon, Russia! The moon! Haven't you ever thought about that?”
The childish grin is accompanied by those sweet, (still) big blue eyes. Russia allows himself a small smile, half hidden by the shadows that accompanied the dim moonlight, and lets his eyes wander up.
“Not recently. When I was a boy, I used to think about it.”
He pauses, thinking.
“I used to know a tale about the moon.”
Subject change. America leans against Russia's side, warm and wondering, to listen to this impromptu storytelling.
“It was that God would crumble the old moon into stars every four weeks.”
“What about blue moons?”
Russia muses a little at the impatient change of conversation before he presses a kiss to the young nation's cheek.
“It was seen as something impossible. Two full moons in one month, though, were seen to throw off the harvest calender and thus disrupt the time things would be cultivated. The hen would not lay eggs until the fourth moon, for example, because it was too cold in the third.”
“That's silly.”
Russia makes a thoughtful, if slightly indignant, noise and sits up. America blinks, then sits up – had he said something to offend the guy? - and starts to apologize. It's swiftly cut off by soft kiss, and Russia rises to leave. America touches his lips thoughtfully then stands, too, and grins.
“I'm still going to reach the moon.”
“Good luck with that. If we were meant to leave this place, then we would have wings.”
The thought of soaring through the air makes America tingle in excitement.