Author's note; I don't know if I WILL continue this. It was gonna be a story between my character Greenland (Qivioq Kliest) and Denmark (Who, for the sake of it, I will be calling Mathias Rasmussen). Maybe I'll continue? Maybe not... D: Depends on what reactions it gets. IF it gets any.
Sorry for it's lameness, too. I'll maybe re-write it later. :D
!EDIT! In the end, I did rewrite it. But It took ages for it to goddamn update it!! In the end I got it, though. Anyway; not that much of an improvement... but enjoy!
Qivioq tossed and turned in his sleep. Whilst laying in his sweat-ridden bed, he was stricken by obscure images with strange plots and disoriented, unrecognizable faces. Even though they followed no certain story line nor held any fathomable meaning, they scared him. What made the whole ordeal all the more frightening was that he couldn't wake up; no amount of reasonable thinking or mental determination could break the dream's horrible spell. He was stuck. The people he saw, if they could be called people, looked like twisted and stretched blobs of his dear friends. Their faces were scratched out, and their voiced frightening wails. If only, for the love of God, he could wake up. A strange noise began and the images changed suddenly. Frighteningly fast, the noise rose to mimic the sound of a car speeding up and stopping suddenly with a slam. Faces raced pass and blurred, making Qivioq feel queasy. Wishing terribly he'd wake up and hopefully not throw up, he continued to thrive on his bed until... BANG.
The sound of the front door slamming woke him up with a start. Fearful and shivering, Qivioq sat up immediately and gasped at the air. The footsteps of someone echoed from down the hall, and his heart rate kicked up a notch. Cold tears streamed down his face and, after swallowing the dry lump in his face, he called out nervously. "Mathias?" The footsteps ceased. There was a crash, a muffled curse, then suddenly the footsteps continued once more, fast approaching the bedroom door. "Yeah! It's me, Qiv!" The door burst open and the familiar tall, blond Danish man grinned at him through the gloom. With the way Mathias stood, slightly swaying and leaning on the door frame, he instantly knew the man was drunk. "Sorry I'm so Late," Qivioq looked at the clock; he was late alright, "I had a bit too much to drink and when I was comin' home from Bella's I kinda threw up and passed out in a hedge outside Ludwig's house. LUCKILY Berwald found me and dropped me off-- Did you know he wears glasses? I only JUST noticed! --So anyway, I threw up in his car and stuff so he was all really scary and..." At this point in the one-sided conversation, Qivioq had zones out. The smell of alcohol that came wafting out of ever fibre on Mathias' being mixed with the remnants of his frightening nightmare caused him to become nauseous. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward and hugged his stomach in a desperate attempt not to be sick. "Oi, Qiv? You alright?" Stumbling slightly, the blond approached the bed before tripping on his own feet and sitting with a loud thud beside his friend. Glaring at himself, he quickly re-focused. "You look like shit, man."
"I feel worse."
"Bad dream?"
"Mm."
A short silence.
"You wanna talk about it...?"
Qivioq shook his head, regretting it soon after when a small amount of bile entered his mouth.
"It's hard to explain."
Mathias sighed. He'd come home, expecting to spend the rest of the night playing some kind of ridiculous game he'd think up of on the spot, but instead he found his play-mate pale and sick. There was only one cure for this.
Without a second thought, he pushed the other man down onto the bed and frowned. "You. Sleep. Now."
"But Math--!"
"No buts! Beddy time is now time." Determined, he pulled the still slightly sweaty sheets up and over, ignoring Qivioq's complaints. Held hostage, the sheets tucked with no room for escape, the Inuit man tried in vain to breath under the tightness of the sheets. Blinking rapidly Mathias gave a huge yawn and, without any further notice, collapsed onto the bed space beside his captive. "Mathias? Aren't you going back to your room?"
The Dane replied in a mixture of mumbles and snorts.
For a while sleep felt like a far away mist to Qivioq; hard to see and hard to grasp. He felt Mathias' presence beside him constantly, an unusual source of body heat and relentless snoring. The stone's of worry still held his stomach down, and not until the snoring became distorted into the sounds of waves by sleep's trickery did he finally sleep.