She woke up on the couch in the living room. It felt like a hangover. Her head hurt and sort of swam and she felt all sticky. When she sat up the dull pain in her neck told her that sleeping on the couch made it on her list of “definitely a bad idea, don't try this again” together with “throwing people out of windows”, “going to a battle with a suicidal blind king” and “asking Sweden to return the artworks he took during Thirty Years' War”. Yesterday her bedroom seemed to be miles away though. Germany insisted on her presence during his takeover of what remained from Czechoslovakia and she was exhausted. She assumed it must be his sadistic streak showing since he has managed quite well without her before
( ... )
MARCH HARE pt.2
anonymous
July 3 2009, 14:23:41 UTC
She was munching on some ancient bread she found in the kitchen. It must have been lying there for several days, but she was so hungry that she could chow her arm of. She did not manage to eat anything yesterday. If she tried to she would be spectacularly sick. “It was baked back then when I was still my own country,” she realized. “Yes for the freedom bread!” She was getting nuts, but it felt good, far better than that emptiness that paralyzed her for months now.
The phone rang. She groaned and went to pick the blasted thing up. It was only bad news lately. “Tchécoslovaquie?” Oh. Sweet France. “Yes?” She was surprised by the sound of her own voice. Kind of croaky whisper. “Are you all right? Why aren't you answering the phone? I've been calling you for past few hours.” He was frantic. She half-expected him to scold her like a dad whose kid came home from a party gently kissed by the rosy dawn instead at 11 p.m. “I was asleep,” she answered stupidly. “I thought Germany... Did he hurt you?” Well, what could she said to that? Don't
( ... )
Re: MARCH HARE pt.2
anonymous
July 3 2009, 19:10:07 UTC
Yes more Slav stories! Czechoslovakian history is so interesting to portray, and you did that more than well Anon! You also get a thousand extra points for mentioning Mucha..! He was such a genius
Re: MARCH HARE pt.3
anonymous
July 12 2009, 11:58:54 UTC
There was someone banging on the front door. She froze at first, but then she assumed that things could not get much worse anymore. She opened the door and immediately made to close it again, but a black boot blocked it and… yep, things could get much much worse.
The German officer made his way inside the house and gave her worryingly toothy grin. His red eyes rested on her swollen one gleefully. No matter how many times the bastard gets dissolved, annexed, mashed like a potato, Weillschmidt will always be back somehow. At the world's end it will be just him and cockroaches. Oh, finally, what a heartwarming friendship it will be!
She steeled herself for some heavy gloating. “I mustn't snap! I mustn't!” “Well well well, if it isn't the little Hussite, all alone and abandoned!” She winced. Alliteration, that was plain mean. Weillschmidt invited himself over to the living room and his boots left a muddy trail on the carpet. “What is it that makes everyone run away from you?” She had to admit that he had a point.
Re: MARCH HARE pt.4
anonymous
July 12 2009, 12:39:24 UTC
“Amazing how he can give you a swollen eye,” the glove touched the side of her face and Weillschmidt's thumb brushed her eyelid, “by phone.” She retreated behind the table and set the letters down
( ... )
Re: MARCH HARE pt.4
anonymous
July 14 2009, 05:01:40 UTC
As a fellow Czech nerd (SOOOO HAPPY YOU MADE HER FEMALE BTW) Im wondering if you will ride this story out till Ivan comes into the picture? Cause, well... Ivan automaticly makes a story 573 times more awesome (not that you need any help). Plus, a chance for consensual "OMG YOU ARE SO MUCH LESS OF A DICK THAN GERMANY LETS FUCK" and then Czech relising that he is ONE CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER.
Anything involving West Slavs (Poland, Czech Republic and Slovakia)
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The phone rang. She groaned and went to pick the blasted thing up. It was only bad news lately.
“Tchécoslovaquie?”
Oh. Sweet France.
“Yes?” She was surprised by the sound of her own voice. Kind of croaky whisper.
“Are you all right? Why aren't you answering the phone? I've been calling you for past few hours.”
He was frantic. She half-expected him to scold her like a dad whose kid came home from a party gently kissed by the rosy dawn instead at 11 p.m.
“I was asleep,” she answered stupidly.
“I thought Germany... Did he hurt you?”
Well, what could she said to that? Don't ( ... )
Reply
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Reply
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The German officer made his way inside the house and gave her worryingly toothy grin. His red eyes rested on her swollen one gleefully. No matter how many times the bastard gets dissolved, annexed, mashed like a potato, Weillschmidt will always be back somehow. At the world's end it will be just him and cockroaches. Oh, finally, what a heartwarming friendship it will be!
She steeled herself for some heavy gloating. “I mustn't snap! I mustn't!”
“Well well well, if it isn't the little Hussite, all alone and abandoned!” She winced. Alliteration, that was plain mean. Weillschmidt invited himself over to the living room and his boots left a muddy trail on the carpet. “What is it that makes everyone run away from you?”
She had to admit that he had a point.
A man in his fifties ( ... )
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Cause, well... Ivan automaticly makes a story 573 times more awesome (not that you need any help). Plus, a chance for consensual "OMG YOU ARE SO MUCH LESS OF A DICK THAN GERMANY LETS FUCK" and then Czech relising that he is ONE CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER.
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