Dream [010] ☼
[Warnings: None || Dream Effects: None]
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The ball bounced obediently from foot to foot and then forward over the grass. And he gave chase, grinning, mindless of the sun beating down upon them, or of the red uniform on his back.
No, all that was before him was the ball, and the players standing in his way.
One stepped forward to challenge him, and all it took was a slight tap on the ball, away and around and he followed, breezing past the other player effortlessly.
And he didn’t miss a step, guiding the ball at his feet with apparent ease.
Another player of the opposite team stepped up, stretching out to kick the ball from his control. Seeing it coming, Spain pivoted, planting his foot on the top of the ball lightly and rolling it back with him. He turned, putting himself between the other player and the ball, and then continued forward, leaving the unbalanced player behind him.
Now there was little more between him and the goal but the goalie, and Spain grinned triumphantly, dribbling forward, eyes on the goal.
He planted his foot beside the ball, about to kick it with all of his strength and score when-
He made the mistake of looking at the goalie.
And he froze.
Unfortunately, his momentum carried him forward, and, unbalanced, Spain fell forward to his hands and knees, even as the soccer ball rolled gently away.
“Roma? What are you doing here?” He still looked entirely stunned as he stared at his one time father figure.
Rome grinned cheerfully. “Oh, I came through your window.”
Spain stared at him. They were outside, weren’t they? How did he-
But he could think of nothing to say but a simple, “What?”
--
[And Spain wakes up, looking a little befuddled...although the bruise across his cheekbone and jaw can't be helping that image in the least.]
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The ball bounced obediently from foot to foot and then forward over the grass. And he gave chase, grinning, mindless of the sun beating down upon them, or of the red uniform on his back.
No, all that was before him was the ball, and the players standing in his way.
One stepped forward to challenge him, and all it took was a slight tap on the ball, away and around and he followed, breezing past the other player effortlessly.
And he didn’t miss a step, guiding the ball at his feet with apparent ease.
Another player of the opposite team stepped up, stretching out to kick the ball from his control. Seeing it coming, Spain pivoted, planting his foot on the top of the ball lightly and rolling it back with him. He turned, putting himself between the other player and the ball, and then continued forward, leaving the unbalanced player behind him.
Now there was little more between him and the goal but the goalie, and Spain grinned triumphantly, dribbling forward, eyes on the goal.
He planted his foot beside the ball, about to kick it with all of his strength and score when-
He made the mistake of looking at the goalie.
And he froze.
Unfortunately, his momentum carried him forward, and, unbalanced, Spain fell forward to his hands and knees, even as the soccer ball rolled gently away.
“Roma? What are you doing here?” He still looked entirely stunned as he stared at his one time father figure.
Rome grinned cheerfully. “Oh, I came through your window.”
Spain stared at him. They were outside, weren’t they? How did he-
But he could think of nothing to say but a simple, “What?”
--
[And Spain wakes up, looking a little befuddled...although the bruise across his cheekbone and jaw can't be helping that image in the least.]