(no subject)
author: konbini @ rihiten
fandom: axis powers hetalia
characters/pairings: japan/taiwan, hong kong/taiwan
rating/warnings: g
summary: lame drabbles again woahhh
day (japan/taiwan)
Taiwan's breath gets smaller on the frosted window pane as the moments pass by, each minute marked by a petal that dances past the small frame. They are like snow, but not biting cold - more soft and like silk to the touch. Light peeks from the edge of the horizon and clouds only try to hush them. The sky does not lie, yet dawn hasn't come. It won't, not until he does, Taiwan believes. The rising sun never makes promises; it tells truths. It leaves, and the world can be sure that it will return, without fail. Come back, she doesn't need to cry. Each petal is a reminder of the days that go by without the scent of chrysanthemums. All the words she's been saving for him she can't help but confide to the glass - sweet secrets that not even nature knows. Before the fog on the surface disappears, Taiwan whispers another message as she waits. Japan's arrival is like the morning: certain.
what it's like (hong kong/taiwan)
for yangkuang
"What's it like? Freedom."
"It's like," Taiwan looks at the seagulls above her as she tries to find the words. "like -- how did America put it? Like running without stopping, with the wind in your hair and air beneath your feet, like flight. No one to tell you what to do or what to believe in. No strings."
"It sounds nice." The sea tickles their feet.
"It's," (At this point, Taiwan doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.) "not being gege's anymore."
"It sounds nice," Hong Kong repeats. "Freedom."
"But you'll be mine, won't you?"
He drowns out her question with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
Won't you?
fandom: axis powers hetalia
characters/pairings: japan/taiwan, hong kong/taiwan
rating/warnings: g
summary: lame drabbles again woahhh
day (japan/taiwan)
Taiwan's breath gets smaller on the frosted window pane as the moments pass by, each minute marked by a petal that dances past the small frame. They are like snow, but not biting cold - more soft and like silk to the touch. Light peeks from the edge of the horizon and clouds only try to hush them. The sky does not lie, yet dawn hasn't come. It won't, not until he does, Taiwan believes. The rising sun never makes promises; it tells truths. It leaves, and the world can be sure that it will return, without fail. Come back, she doesn't need to cry. Each petal is a reminder of the days that go by without the scent of chrysanthemums. All the words she's been saving for him she can't help but confide to the glass - sweet secrets that not even nature knows. Before the fog on the surface disappears, Taiwan whispers another message as she waits. Japan's arrival is like the morning: certain.
what it's like (hong kong/taiwan)
for yangkuang
"What's it like? Freedom."
"It's like," Taiwan looks at the seagulls above her as she tries to find the words. "like -- how did America put it? Like running without stopping, with the wind in your hair and air beneath your feet, like flight. No one to tell you what to do or what to believe in. No strings."
"It sounds nice." The sea tickles their feet.
"It's," (At this point, Taiwan doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.) "not being gege's anymore."
"It sounds nice," Hong Kong repeats. "Freedom."
"But you'll be mine, won't you?"
He drowns out her question with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
Won't you?