And now, for something totally unrelated to Valentine's day, romance or anything sweet for that matter, a gift from me to you, "Of Wonders".
I was supposed to finish this yesterday, but hey, I gots shit to do. I will probably rewrite this.
The sands temperature was mild and pleasing, cooled down since the afternoon and easier to walk on barefoot, she never liked the shoes Arthur made her wear anyway. Beautiful blue seas, roaring behind her, soft breezes ruffle her wild, kinky manes. The scent of roasting fish is one she hadn't whiffed up in a long while, the so-called proper foods didn't taste nearly as good. On her back, she lay down, watching the stars, letting the warm sand stick to her wet clothing, her islands are truly paradise.
It felt so good to be free.
Nature's tropical beauty on one side and the inhabitants who shared her culture and traditions on the other, while she felt calm and in tune with her island's vegetated parts, her islander people made her feel surrounded by love and happiness. The combination was even better after she reunited with them. Never had she seen her grandmother so cheery before.
Even though she looked savage, as if she were raised by animals, with her hair wild and untamed, her skin covered in dirt and grass stains, the tight, circulation-cutting proper dress Arthur's had costume made, was ripped and cut into a comfortable kiteng and the flower crown her neighbours gifted smelled as lovely as it looked, she couldn't have been more delighted.
Suddenly, an angry scream erupted. Her first instincts were to run and access the situation from a far, she quickly hid behind a tree.
"ITALY! That dumb little pussy! Get over here you stupid-" checked his surrounding, beside the fire, nothing seemed in place. No rock formation, no sos signal, not even the slightest trace of pasta. He saw the sea roaring to his side, he was certain that Veniziano would never even think to try and make a run for it without him, the sea looked pretty frightening and there was no way his self made boat would not be spat back on land after making it a few meters off shore,"where am I?"
Distressed and exhausted, he slowed down his slump walking. How could he ever trust an Italian, "Italy! Ve-veniziano!"
"Where are- where-"
His throat was dry and apparently a hand full of berries and nuts couldn't provide enough energy for him. The world got blurrier as he approached the fire, hoping that Veniziano was for once capable of starting a fire on his own. He thought he could smell the tomatoes, fresh oregano and basilic. A few feet away from the fire, he collapsed.
Germany thought the kid the rules of survival himself and the first was always the life-saver in their cases. Even though a miracle would be nice, Knowing his friend, the chance of him being there was slim. Italy was a bit dense, not dimwitted. Who was he kidding?
Italy always stays put.
After Amandine returned from her hiding in the bushes, she found the courage to approach the stranger in question. From a far, he looked tall, his height stood out the most and after seeing parts of his face, she could tell he was a European. From what she had seen, his body language and desperation, he was probably another lost, ship-wrecked sailor, looking for help.
But he fainted.
Knees dug into the warm, dark sand. Tried her best to roll him over, and after a few tries, she succeeded. Promptly lay her hand on his chest, to feel his beating heart trough the thin layer of his vest. He was alive, fortunately. The dark green he wore reminded her of Alfred's army uniform, but sailors didn't wear army uniforms, did they? Nameless belonged to the military, probably, he looked like a soldier, especially in the face.
A lost, ship-wrecked, European on her islands,
-again.
The more she studied him, the more she started to wonder about his identity, nationality, personality and interests. Maybe he was sweet and perverted like Francis or maybe he complained a lot like Arthur. Who knew, maybe he was shy and closeted like Matthew or self-centered and hyperactive like Alfred.
Some aspects of his appearance reminded her of them.
His hair reminds her of them, same smooth texture, it's almost the same color, only lighter, chopped. Nameless probably did that himself, with a knife or rusty scissors, like Arthur used to the first time he got lost on the island. Long hair never suited him anyway. Amandine lid her fingers trough the soft, greasy locks, ruffling them even more and observed his relaxed face.
She wondered if all Europeans had those pointy noses, like Francis, Arthur and nameless had. Probably not, but from what she'd seen, it suited them better, having rounded, flatter noses like hers would have been ugly, especially on him. Surely, a narrow nose would have looked ridiculous on her too.
Fingers traced his jaw line, where she got infatuated with his lips. Thin and small, like Arthur's, totally unappealing to her. She couldn't help but wonder why, Francis had thicker lips than them, did it vary among European nations? Though plumpness would probably not make a difference when kissed, would it?
Amandine cocked her head, brushed her hair behind her ear and kissed the sleeping country, long and softly, like she had seen Francis do many times before. She found that he tasted of salt, besides his mouth being dry, she noticed they were only slightly softer than they let on, making her wish he'd kiss back, "It doesn't feel that different."
She then concentrated on his neck, where her one of her favorite things on the male body could be seen, the Adam's Apple. It had been a while since she saw a man up close, she pressed a kiss on the side of his neck and one on the visible bump. A whimper escaped her lips before she continued her bodily journey.
An iron cross on his neck, dangled next to him. The shiny black and silver piece had an L carved on the back of it. Nameless probably held it dear, so she decided to leave it on him instead of stuffing it in his pocket. The European nation had tan-lines under his torn vest, the pale skin on his arms, as opposed to his face and neck, made her wonder about where he came from.
Amandine nearly squealed in joy after she zipped the thin vest open, an abundance of muscles and battle scars greeted her, neither Arthur nor Francis looked like this, they were not as 'sculpted'. Her eyes feasted upon the sight as she took position above him, she could tell he was strong and fit, she licked her lips unconsciously as she ran her hands over him. Her head dipped into his neck, where she kissed and trailed her lips up and down, avoiding the cross he wore.
"Oui, he has such a nice body," she murmured a complement, "Il est très sexy!"
His skin was rough, so where his hands, calluses after so many years of hard physical exercise to get the Adonis esque body he possessed now. After a few minutes of lavishing his neck, Adam's Apple and jaw with her mouth.
Exploring his upper body with her hands and mouth was getting her more and more excited, little kisses and bites turned red quickly, some were even darker. Hands stopped traveling at the waistband of his torn trousers, she toyed with the edges, hesitating, "Maybe I shouldn't do this."
"What the hell are you doing?"
She yelped and rolled off the European nation, quickly. Amandine turned back, nameless was propped up, using his elbows a support as he looked the brown-skinned woman. Her eyes widened, out came her meek peep as she crossed her legs. His eyes were blue, like Francis', but instead of a warmth and security, she felt uncomfortable under his gaze.
He moved to stand up, Amandine was in shock, almost certain that he was going to hurt her or worse. She thought quick. How was she going to fight him? He was a soldier and a man, she was a little over half his size and had nothing on her, there weren't that many options.
Then she fled.
It still didn't really dawn on him, untill he noticed the red blemishes she left on his torso and sides. Just below his navel, she left the most evident mark of all on him it had darkened to purple after a while. Flames were put out, but the baked fish were still on a huge leaf. Besides the large amount of wet sand, the only souvenir he had left, was a stemmed flower with fiery red petals, similar to the strange crown he noticed she wore before she left.
Ludwig pinched his arms, hoping he was just having a cracked-up dream, he hoped to wake up in his own bed, next to his wacky friend and just shrug it off. Though he basically was molested in his sleep, he felt too tired to even care. Germany looked at the direction she moved in, footsteps faded.
Before he decided what to do next, he let out a tired breath, "I don't even know what's going on anymore."
Happy day after Valentine's day!