yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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metamorphosis2010-01-18 04:53 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-01-18 04:53 pm
Entry tags:
28;
Title: Cell Block 419
Characters: Belgium, Prussia, mentions of Germany, France, and England
Rating: R
Warnings: Gratuitous use of the word 'fucking'.
854 words.
The air's full of dust and filth. It stings her eyes when she peers blearily out, into the darkness. Her body aches, her head's killing her, and she could really, really use a smoke.
The cell door opens, the sliver of light growing wider as the door swings open. Abruptly it disappears, with the sound of the metal door slamming shut accompanying it. It jolts her head and she groans. Someone laughs and she's yanked up by her hair, eyes squeezing shut in pain and gritting her teeth not to make another sound.
"You know, Belgien, I always thought you were prettier bloody than clean."
"And I always thought you'd look marvelous under the boot of your younger brother, Pruisen."
The slap's as quick and fast as her retort had been. Her head's still ringing when Prussia pulls her closer and snarls in her face.
"Listen, I am not under his or anyone else's boot! I'm don't take that sort of shit."
This time, she holds her tongue. Gee, but it sure looked like he was taking it. As if hearing her thoughts he jerks her around, slams her against the wall again and hisses at her to open her fucking eyes. She complies, blinking away tears at the stinging pain at not having them open in a while and the vicious pain at the back of her head. If the tears soften him, he doesn't show it. She lets her eyes adjust to the darkness slowly as he presses her against the wall, his free hand trailing down her side and pulling away slightly at the feel of bandages.
"I've been ordered not to fuck you up too badly. But I'm here to see if you're ready to eat something. You've been out a few days, you know that? It was a real bitch undressing you to get at your wounds those few days. Might as well do that while I'm here too. Work with me here, Belgien."
He adds when she struggles against him, trying to press herself against the wall to get herself away from him. He only moves closer, scowling and trying to hide the tired look in his eyes.
"Before you even fuckin' ask, no, I didn't do anything to you. Neither did any of the soldiers, because I've been up the last four days keeping watch on your fuckin' cell to make sure nothing came around. And to keep watch on if you came around."
Prussia lets of her hair and steps back, yanking out an old lighter and furiously flicking it until the flame feebly flares up. He pulls out a half-finished cigarette and sticks it between his teeth, lights it and takes in a long, deep breath as she crumples and tries to stand up, watched out of the corner of his eye. She uses the wall as support and glares at him.
"Come here, Belgien. Let's get those bandages changed. Wouldn't want you to get infected, would we? Well, I wouldn't. Not so sure about Deutschland, but I'm pretty damn sure he doesn't give a fuck about you. He's too busy fighting off France and England on his end."
Obviously, the look of surprise shows on her face because Prussia blows smoke out his nose and laughs, gripping the butt of his cigarette tightly.
"You didn't know? Stupid bastards would go to the end of the Earth to protect their word."
"Unlike you."
"Shut it! You don't know shit, Belgien, and at the moment you're the prisoner and I'm the one with the keys. So I think it's smart if you shut you fuckin' mouth."
She quiets down for the moment, licking her lips. Prussia runs a hand through his hair and sighs, then approaches and grabs her arm. Wordlessly he pulls her along to a corner and flicks on a lamp, revealing a cot that he shoves her onto and a desk missing a few drawers. He roots through the ones available and yanks out assorted rolls of gauze, slamming then onto the top of the desk as soon as he fishes them out. He grabs a few and slides onto the cot next to her, barking an order in German when she jerks her arm away as soon as he touches it. Ten minutes of struggling later she's got a new black eye and the bandages are slowly being peeled off. Off come the ones on her arms, her shoulders; off come the ones around her stomach and her chest.
"I guess they'll heal up quicker once I get some medicine on 'em... If I had any."
He re-wraps the cuts and gashes tightly, not minding her wince or her flushed, trembling skin. He nods down to her legs - she's got her pants on at least, she thinks - and shoves her the rest of the bandages.
"You can do the rest yourself, right? Good."
Prussia leaves her with a dying light and a ground out cigarette, swearing under his breath and slamming the cell door behind him.
Her stomach pangs for food and she realises he didn't give her any.
Damn.
Characters: Belgium, Prussia, mentions of Germany, France, and England
Rating: R
Warnings: Gratuitous use of the word 'fucking'.
854 words.
The air's full of dust and filth. It stings her eyes when she peers blearily out, into the darkness. Her body aches, her head's killing her, and she could really, really use a smoke.
The cell door opens, the sliver of light growing wider as the door swings open. Abruptly it disappears, with the sound of the metal door slamming shut accompanying it. It jolts her head and she groans. Someone laughs and she's yanked up by her hair, eyes squeezing shut in pain and gritting her teeth not to make another sound.
"You know, Belgien, I always thought you were prettier bloody than clean."
"And I always thought you'd look marvelous under the boot of your younger brother, Pruisen."
The slap's as quick and fast as her retort had been. Her head's still ringing when Prussia pulls her closer and snarls in her face.
"Listen, I am not under his or anyone else's boot! I'm don't take that sort of shit."
This time, she holds her tongue. Gee, but it sure looked like he was taking it. As if hearing her thoughts he jerks her around, slams her against the wall again and hisses at her to open her fucking eyes. She complies, blinking away tears at the stinging pain at not having them open in a while and the vicious pain at the back of her head. If the tears soften him, he doesn't show it. She lets her eyes adjust to the darkness slowly as he presses her against the wall, his free hand trailing down her side and pulling away slightly at the feel of bandages.
"I've been ordered not to fuck you up too badly. But I'm here to see if you're ready to eat something. You've been out a few days, you know that? It was a real bitch undressing you to get at your wounds those few days. Might as well do that while I'm here too. Work with me here, Belgien."
He adds when she struggles against him, trying to press herself against the wall to get herself away from him. He only moves closer, scowling and trying to hide the tired look in his eyes.
"Before you even fuckin' ask, no, I didn't do anything to you. Neither did any of the soldiers, because I've been up the last four days keeping watch on your fuckin' cell to make sure nothing came around. And to keep watch on if you came around."
Prussia lets of her hair and steps back, yanking out an old lighter and furiously flicking it until the flame feebly flares up. He pulls out a half-finished cigarette and sticks it between his teeth, lights it and takes in a long, deep breath as she crumples and tries to stand up, watched out of the corner of his eye. She uses the wall as support and glares at him.
"Come here, Belgien. Let's get those bandages changed. Wouldn't want you to get infected, would we? Well, I wouldn't. Not so sure about Deutschland, but I'm pretty damn sure he doesn't give a fuck about you. He's too busy fighting off France and England on his end."
Obviously, the look of surprise shows on her face because Prussia blows smoke out his nose and laughs, gripping the butt of his cigarette tightly.
"You didn't know? Stupid bastards would go to the end of the Earth to protect their word."
"Unlike you."
"Shut it! You don't know shit, Belgien, and at the moment you're the prisoner and I'm the one with the keys. So I think it's smart if you shut you fuckin' mouth."
She quiets down for the moment, licking her lips. Prussia runs a hand through his hair and sighs, then approaches and grabs her arm. Wordlessly he pulls her along to a corner and flicks on a lamp, revealing a cot that he shoves her onto and a desk missing a few drawers. He roots through the ones available and yanks out assorted rolls of gauze, slamming then onto the top of the desk as soon as he fishes them out. He grabs a few and slides onto the cot next to her, barking an order in German when she jerks her arm away as soon as he touches it. Ten minutes of struggling later she's got a new black eye and the bandages are slowly being peeled off. Off come the ones on her arms, her shoulders; off come the ones around her stomach and her chest.
"I guess they'll heal up quicker once I get some medicine on 'em... If I had any."
He re-wraps the cuts and gashes tightly, not minding her wince or her flushed, trembling skin. He nods down to her legs - she's got her pants on at least, she thinks - and shoves her the rest of the bandages.
"You can do the rest yourself, right? Good."
Prussia leaves her with a dying light and a ground out cigarette, swearing under his breath and slamming the cell door behind him.
Her stomach pangs for food and she realises he didn't give her any.
Damn.