(no subject)
One wall of the bus shelter had been stoved in by a drunken driver; not, Belgium thought, a show of America's finest architectural qualities. The wind conveniently gusted sheets of freezing rain through the opening, making her shiver despite her raincoat and colorful cotton scarf. Her companion, on the other hand, had been sitting bare-armed, bare-headed, and unflinchingly straight for the last ten minutes on the shelter's lone bench.
"You aren't cold?" Belgium said, pulling her raincoat hood lower.
The other woman seemed not to hear.
She raised her voice above the wind. "Belarus? Aren't you cold?"
"I am fine," said Belarus without turning her head.
Belgium gave her a considering look. Rain had dampened Belarus's silver-blonde hair to dark ash; even her eyelashes glittered with water. The skirts of her spring dress clung, wet-laden, to her angular knees. And were those raindrops or goosebumps on her arms?
"Even heaven is disgusted by that arrogant fool's high-handedness," Belarus said suddenly, and Belgium understood then.
"I'm sorry," she said, and hesitated. To say that she had no sympathy with America's decision would be untrue -- but when the words refused to come to her lips she simply let them die, and instead pulled the scarf from around her neck to drape around Belarus.
"What--?"
"Because you are cold," Belgium said firmly, then leaned over and, brushing away the rain with soft fingers, laid a gentle kiss on Belarus's forehead.
Words were only one kind of truth, after all.
Notes: Belarus is pissed at America because of this.
"You aren't cold?" Belgium said, pulling her raincoat hood lower.
The other woman seemed not to hear.
She raised her voice above the wind. "Belarus? Aren't you cold?"
"I am fine," said Belarus without turning her head.
Belgium gave her a considering look. Rain had dampened Belarus's silver-blonde hair to dark ash; even her eyelashes glittered with water. The skirts of her spring dress clung, wet-laden, to her angular knees. And were those raindrops or goosebumps on her arms?
"Even heaven is disgusted by that arrogant fool's high-handedness," Belarus said suddenly, and Belgium understood then.
"I'm sorry," she said, and hesitated. To say that she had no sympathy with America's decision would be untrue -- but when the words refused to come to her lips she simply let them die, and instead pulled the scarf from around her neck to drape around Belarus.
"What--?"
"Because you are cold," Belgium said firmly, then leaned over and, brushing away the rain with soft fingers, laid a gentle kiss on Belarus's forehead.
Words were only one kind of truth, after all.
Notes: Belarus is pissed at America because of this.