His Sky
Decided to branch out and write an entry for this week's prompt for hetalia_contest, which was 'sky'.
Title: His Sky
Rating: G
Genre: IT TRANSENDS GENRE.
Characters: Good ol' Billy No-Mates Arthur.
Summary: Arthur has his own sky because he's just that much of a baller.
Words: Managed to limbo under the 300 cut off mark with 282 words.
Notes: I'm on a boat.
Rolling waves crested against the bow of the rickety old galiot. The rhythmic rocking that followed, merging with the soft lulls of sloshing water, created a cocoon for England. It protected him from all grievances that plagued him on land, and all he had to do was look to the sky.
It was empyrean, it was, ever changing in its spectrum, wavering from the the powdery blues of morning to the deep, blood red cloth that swept over it as the sun began to set. It was just as alive as he, and shared the same violently unpredictable temper.
He could always see the stars in his sky, even during the brightest of days, They twinkled with a brilliance that could not be captured in language or image alike, always tumbling about the sky in a flirtatious show for the eye, never resting for even the briefest of moments.
This was his sky, and his alone. Every other blundering fool he had to share the Earth with was always looking to the wrong sky. They blinded themselves by staring too long, and at night continued to blind themselves from the stars with artificial lights littering every possible nook and cranny. But the world could continue in its err for all he cared, as long as he could keep what was rightfully his.
Kicking off the worn leather boots of ages old, England sprinted towards the railing, whipping off the excess drag of his Captain's Coat as he flung himself into the air. The first thing to hit the water was a smile as he dove into his sky, where all you needed to fly was a strong kick and a fine stroke .
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A/N: Captain coats are the most Arthur-esque article of clothing I have seen in a good while. I mean seriously.
Title: His Sky
Rating: G
Genre: IT TRANSENDS GENRE.
Characters: Good ol' Billy No-Mates Arthur.
Summary: Arthur has his own sky because he's just that much of a baller.
Words: Managed to limbo under the 300 cut off mark with 282 words.
Notes: I'm on a boat.
Rolling waves crested against the bow of the rickety old galiot. The rhythmic rocking that followed, merging with the soft lulls of sloshing water, created a cocoon for England. It protected him from all grievances that plagued him on land, and all he had to do was look to the sky.
It was empyrean, it was, ever changing in its spectrum, wavering from the the powdery blues of morning to the deep, blood red cloth that swept over it as the sun began to set. It was just as alive as he, and shared the same violently unpredictable temper.
He could always see the stars in his sky, even during the brightest of days, They twinkled with a brilliance that could not be captured in language or image alike, always tumbling about the sky in a flirtatious show for the eye, never resting for even the briefest of moments.
This was his sky, and his alone. Every other blundering fool he had to share the Earth with was always looking to the wrong sky. They blinded themselves by staring too long, and at night continued to blind themselves from the stars with artificial lights littering every possible nook and cranny. But the world could continue in its err for all he cared, as long as he could keep what was rightfully his.
Kicking off the worn leather boots of ages old, England sprinted towards the railing, whipping off the excess drag of his Captain's Coat as he flung himself into the air. The first thing to hit the water was a smile as he dove into his sky, where all you needed to fly was a strong kick and a fine stroke .
----------
A/N: Captain coats are the most Arthur-esque article of clothing I have seen in a good while. I mean seriously.
