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queenoflogs2011-08-12 08:09 pm
welljustwatchme.livejournal.com) wrote in queenoflogs2011-08-12 08:09 pm
once there was a path, and a girl with chestnut hair [OPEN]
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welljustwatchme and whoever shows up.
Date: During the event.
Summary: Politics and uncertain futures make for depressing dreams.
Warnings: None so far.
For the other nations, the scene is commonplace. Their meetings are always loud, always so busy and vibrant. Hundreds, thousands of years of history have formed personalities that will never get along, but all intrinsically influenced by their neighbours, anyway. The dreamer is attentive, that much is obvious. From the view of the water outside the convention hall to various aspects of particular nations' clothing, the dreamer's subconscious is clearly detail-oriented, whether she wants it to be or not.
It may take a while to notice Canada, though. It usually does, even in her own dream. She's standing off to the side of a food table, with a plate of something in her hands, her polar bear sitting dutifully near her feet. Canada's attention is obviously wandering – she looks a little spacey, to be honest – but her eyes seem to focus on Spain and one of her former colonies. At least, until there's a familiar cry of "Ma petite!" and, despite herself, Canada smiles and prepares for the coming hug and kisses from France.
They don't come, though. France's petite is someone else, someone standing nearby. The someone else looks like Canada, although shorter and younger-looking, with dark curls instead of light blonde ones. She's missing the glasses and that distinctive hair curl, but one might assume this individual is related to Canada, and they would be right.
Quebec laughs and hugs France back. Mother and daughter, in a way. The daughter whose independence is new and supported, something Canada's never was.
Although it's a dream, although there's no paperwork for Quebec leaving her done yet, it still feels so close to a truth that it hits Canada like a physical blow. If you're watching her (you may be alone in that) her face goes blank, carefully emotionless as she tries to ice her heart over to keep it from hurting so much. As others join in, welcoming Quebec as a new country to the meeting, Canada puts her plate of food down beside her and turns to walk out of the convention hall. None of the other nations there make an effort to stop her.
welljustwatchme and whoever shows up.Date: During the event.
Summary: Politics and uncertain futures make for depressing dreams.
Warnings: None so far.
For the other nations, the scene is commonplace. Their meetings are always loud, always so busy and vibrant. Hundreds, thousands of years of history have formed personalities that will never get along, but all intrinsically influenced by their neighbours, anyway. The dreamer is attentive, that much is obvious. From the view of the water outside the convention hall to various aspects of particular nations' clothing, the dreamer's subconscious is clearly detail-oriented, whether she wants it to be or not.
It may take a while to notice Canada, though. It usually does, even in her own dream. She's standing off to the side of a food table, with a plate of something in her hands, her polar bear sitting dutifully near her feet. Canada's attention is obviously wandering – she looks a little spacey, to be honest – but her eyes seem to focus on Spain and one of her former colonies. At least, until there's a familiar cry of "Ma petite!" and, despite herself, Canada smiles and prepares for the coming hug and kisses from France.
They don't come, though. France's petite is someone else, someone standing nearby. The someone else looks like Canada, although shorter and younger-looking, with dark curls instead of light blonde ones. She's missing the glasses and that distinctive hair curl, but one might assume this individual is related to Canada, and they would be right.
Quebec laughs and hugs France back. Mother and daughter, in a way. The daughter whose independence is new and supported, something Canada's never was.
Although it's a dream, although there's no paperwork for Quebec leaving her done yet, it still feels so close to a truth that it hits Canada like a physical blow. If you're watching her (you may be alone in that) her face goes blank, carefully emotionless as she tries to ice her heart over to keep it from hurting so much. As others join in, welcoming Quebec as a new country to the meeting, Canada puts her plate of food down beside her and turns to walk out of the convention hall. None of the other nations there make an effort to stop her.
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But Canada hugged Ukraine loosely back anyway before pulling away, trying to get a grip on herself. "Thank you."
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"Let's walk this way," she said with a gesture behind her. Waking up had occurred to her, too. But how exactly to accomplish that, she wasn't sure.
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"Get up"
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"Now just... fall?"
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