She had to bring it up. After worrying about it herself, it was nice for the other girls to think about it.
Not that they deserve any of the worry.
Monica sat at the edge of her bed, curling her hair into the familiar braid that she was used to, thinking about what she had started. Yes, the girls are going to have a hard time finding someone to love them. But the worse one off would have to be herself. She talks like an old biddy, and she knows that. Who likes listening to old people these days? Apparently no one. No one wants to hear about the past; they think they know it all…
Depressed, she stood up and headed to the coffee machine to make what she desperately needed: a wake-up call. Monica sighed as she stood there, wondering to herself if she was actually doing something right by telling them what was on her mind. She couldn't help but, and for that she felt like she had the understanding that perhaps she had done the wrong thing. Then again, it was free will that she had spoken out. She hasn't really expressed that right in a long time…
The coffee was finally pouring out of the machine, and Monica sat down next to the machine to stare at it. Ever since the beginning of her creation, she couldn't help but stare at the smallest things…wondering if she was going to reach some form of enlightenment after waiting for it. All she really wanted was to find out what that enlightenment was supposed to lead into.
/=+=/
The meeting was as boring as ever. After Francis and Arthur started arguing for the seventeenth bazillion time, she had given up paying attention and resorted to sketching in her book. She easily gets agitated by the whole economy thing, and with the recent troubles everyone's having she doesn't want to agitate herself even more.
With Francis worrying about their own economies, she focuses her time on what she has in front of her: usually decorating. When it wasn't inside houses, she would be designing the latest fashion. Francis had pegged her to be a rather good fashion designer, mainly because 99% of her clothes were handmade by yours truly. She loved designing them…must've been Francis's doing.
She had to be grateful for Francis. He takes great care of her and doesn't try to violate her, despite the fact that she was a woman and she was his sister (he likes hitting on relatives…ARTHUR). But if she knew anything about him, it was that he loved anything and anyone that was beautiful.
So would that mean that she wasn't beautiful?
Monica had to call herself weird that she actually found herself liking this man, despite the fact that he was everything that should be illegal in this day and age. But she had seen the compassionate side of him, the one that truly cares for the ones that he deeply cared about. He shows it all the time, but never wanted to become close to anyone. The last person he got close to was a mortal woman, and the world tore their hearts apart. This was long before he came and conquered her, so she had no idea who this woman was.
Jeanne…Jeanne D'Arc. She had read it in a book somewhere. The Saint of France…
Whenever someone in France would mention her in his presence, he would go into this dreamlike state. He wanted to be back with her, that was all there is to it. That meant that no matter what she did, she would never get his attention, no matter how hard she tried. It would only seem to alienate her from him, who only wants to share the love and yet not continue to do so once it has been returned.
She didn't even pay attention as Francis was dragged back into the meeting hall. Her eyes continued to gaze upon the drawing that was set before her: that of a beautiful French robe with a rosary and silk top. The outfit only seems to work if the girl's hair was short, as seen in the drawing in the notebook. She looked like the drawings and sculptures that she's seen of the maiden.
Maybe this is how I can show my thanks for him…
/= [3 DAYS LATER] =/
After many days, she had finished sewing up and accessorizing the outfit that she had drawn up. She stared at it on the mannequin and found herself nodding in agreement. It did look more beautiful than a simple drawing. Monica didn't hesitate on throwing it onto her small figure. She turned her head to the mirror and saw just how nice it looked on her.
Nice. Not beautiful.
"This looks good enough…" She nodded. "There's only one more thing I have to do…"
Wearing a wig every day was not an option with her. The only way she was going to get this outfit to work and for him to take notice of her past a couple of hours a month was to take this route. Her eyes gazed toward what she wanted: a pair of scissors on the nightstand, and quietly took it in her hands. With her hope intact, she turned toward the mirror and lifted it to her hair.
I know how to do this. She thought. Even if I end up cutting my hair too short, this will be perfect for the outfit…
"Monica, wha-? What are you doing?"
She turned her head in shock and saw with surprise that Francis was at the door, staring at her in confusion at what was going on. She was utterly shocked; he didn't mention that he was going to visit her house, and he always does so beforehand. Instead, he had come straight into the room and grabbed the scissors from her.
"Are the dead ends on your hair that horrible, mademoiselle?" He sounded mad…yet his voice seemed flawless in his rage. Was he even angry at all?
"No…I was just thinking about cutting my hair." She answered. "It was too long, so I want it to my shoulder…like Erika."
"Why would you do that? You love your hair this long."
He knew of that? "I wanted a…change of pace, that's all. Erika's hair is rather beautiful."
"Are you comparing yourself to other people? That isn't like you."
"Well…the world is changing. The word 'beautiful' is changing its meaning." She answered. "Short hair is beautiful now."
"Don't go with the trends…make them." Francis smiled. "You're beautiful just the way you are."
She blushed.
"W-what makes you say that? You never told me that before."
"What's the use of telling someone what they already know?"
She looked away, grateful that he hadn't realized what had inspired her outfit. Monica could only smile as he gave her a non-perverted hug, and for once knew why he was "Big Brother France". She smiled and hugged him back, grateful that she had the best big brother ever.
/=+=/
I'm thinking of making another Hetalia fantasy story. The first one didn't work as well, but I really want to do the whole "Kingdoms-based-on-card-suits"…maybe I'll put in the Philippine OCs and then South Korea. Yeah, that'll work.
