"Oui. " The reply was just as soft as the kiss placed gently between proud eyebrows and the contented sigh it elected. Graceful hands tangled in the firey coloured locks, enjoying how soft and thick the strands of hair felt against his hands. The french man was rewarded with a soft press of warm lips against his neck. A smile crossed the Scot's face, making normally hard emerald eyes soften into warm pools of vivid green that reminded Francis of the lush forests of his mountains; the supposedly creature-filled forests Scotland was so fond of. Sunday mornings, a time they both loved. Wrapped together in the tranquil quiet with whispered conversations that were no more important than their immediate needs. It might have been selfish to some, negligent to others, but in those warm covers of loving kisses and caresses the two lovers were in their own world. A small world that only consisted of them, smiling and happy. It was something France craved and adored when he was lucky enough to recieve it and Scotland was feeling generous enough to give it to the Frenchman. February was the coldest, greyest month in France. But inside the Bonnefoy residence, the month was forgotten, the cold and harshness of winter. There was only each other, and that was all that mattered.
First-Person Sample:
[Considering the walls of France's room were whitewashed in the same shade of white that everything else in the room was, France had managed to tack some paper sketches onto the wall. They were on coloured construction paper, giving the feeling of the nearly expert sketches a childish presence but the colour relaxed him. It brought him a momentary joy at seeing the little sketches of people he'd begin to know in the Asylum and realizing they were never too far from him. Some watercolour paintings of little scenes of windmills and the countryside were nestled beside them on thick cream coloured paper. Anything the diminish the opressing brightness that the white brought with it. Turning, he addresses the video feed with a smile.]
Anyone out there who feels like having their picture drawn should find me. I cannot say they will be as great with the materials we have here but I can guarantee they will be very true to whomever I draw. I will be in the arts and crafts room for the afternoon.
But of course...there are other things to do around here and I have not been to all of the different floors. Oh, I do wish that I was able to cook in this place, it'd give us something better to eat than whatever they call food down there. It is not food, unless you are going by America's standards. Anyone who says that pizza is a vegetable... I am sure you all understand where I stand on my cuisine standards. I swear this is going to be a very long stay with eating hamburgers and fish sticks every week. I have a feeling I'm going to either gain weight from being here or I'll spend it working it all off walking the stairs.
[ His rant now finished, he'll once again go back to straightening the coloured squares on the wall before turning off the feed.]
France |Axis Powers Hetalia || no reserve 3/3
A smile crossed the Scot's face, making normally hard emerald eyes soften into warm pools of vivid green that reminded Francis of the lush forests of his mountains; the supposedly creature-filled forests Scotland was so fond of.
Sunday mornings, a time they both loved. Wrapped together in the tranquil quiet with whispered conversations that were no more important than their immediate needs. It might have been selfish to some, negligent to others, but in those warm covers of loving kisses and caresses the two lovers were in their own world. A small world that only consisted of them, smiling and happy. It was something France craved and adored when he was lucky enough to recieve it and Scotland was feeling generous enough to give it to the Frenchman.
February was the coldest, greyest month in France. But inside the Bonnefoy residence, the month was forgotten, the cold and harshness of winter. There was only each other, and that was all that mattered.
First-Person Sample:
[Considering the walls of France's room were whitewashed in the same shade of white that everything else in the room was, France had managed to tack some paper sketches onto the wall. They were on coloured construction paper, giving the feeling of the nearly expert sketches a childish presence but the colour relaxed him. It brought him a momentary joy at seeing the little sketches of people he'd begin to know in the Asylum and realizing they were never too far from him. Some watercolour paintings of little scenes of windmills and the countryside were nestled beside them on thick cream coloured paper. Anything the diminish the opressing brightness that the white brought with it. Turning, he addresses the video feed with a smile.]
Anyone out there who feels like having their picture drawn should find me. I cannot say they will be as great with the materials we have here but I can guarantee they will be very true to whomever I draw. I will be in the arts and crafts room for the afternoon.
But of course...there are other things to do around here and I have not been to all of the different floors. Oh, I do wish that I was able to cook in this place, it'd give us something better to eat than whatever they call food down there. It is not food, unless you are going by America's standards. Anyone who says that pizza is a vegetable... I am sure you all understand where I stand on my cuisine standards. I swear this is going to be a very long stay with eating hamburgers and fish sticks every week. I have a feeling I'm going to either gain weight from being here or I'll spend it working it all off walking the stairs.
[ His rant now finished, he'll once again go back to straightening the coloured squares on the wall before turning off the feed.]
Anything else? Nope.