Post by Deleted on Aug 10, 2013 9:23:02 GMT -6
"We're all nations, aren't we?" Kim-Ly turned, pursing her lips, it was obvious that on some level she disagreed with Romano’s proportionally more generous statement. "We're all in the same situation. 'My kind' is the same as yours." She snorted –not bothering to disagree since, on some level, he was right.
"I don't understand you much either."
“Lovely. Honesty, that’s better.” Remarked the woman, despite her words, she grasped his hand for a few more seconds before standing up…only to have the other nation pull her back again.
“Yes," Kim-Ly huffed as she was pulled down to the earth again, falling forward in an inelegant slump. “Romano? What do you think you’re-” She started, trying to catch her breath.
"I do." Her breath caught in her throat, mouth forming a surprised “O”. "You're not any less beautiful because you fought and suffered the consequences. They're not flaws. I should know!" Doing her best to ignore the finger tracing over her arm, she looked over at the other nation, gold eyes meeting green.
She was not fazed per se, maybe annoyed (for Vietnam was used to having the upper hand in such encounters)…but the most dominant emotion buzzing through her head was, in fact, surprise. And that surprised her, because Kim-Ly wasn’t used to being surprised either.
"…because I'm the most flawed person I know. And I don't have any scars to show for it."
She stood up, his hand falling slowly from her arm. It felt colder. “Well, that’s a stupid thing to think,” blurted out the woman before she could stop herself. She leaned forward, resting a small hand on his shoulder and squeezing tightly. “Unless you’ve kicked any puppies or stabbed any children recently…I don’t think you’re any worse than the rest of us.”
"Of course," Vietnam released his arm, cautiously evaluating whether the smile that crept over his face was dangerous or not. She had been unaware his face could contort in that fashion –but then again, who was she to talk? "It probably doesn't matter what I say, because you'll find a way to counter it. And then I'll be made a fool, you'll tease me for it, I'll get riled up again, and you'll get mad at me. Rinse and repeat."
Maybe it was the “Rinsing and Repeating” that got to her (A hair metaphor. It was obviously a hair metaphor.)…but Vietnam could feel her heart soften. She sighed.
“Aiyah, Romano…they send us off to war and expect us to come back and just act normal people? After killing and torturing? Watching –feeling- our people die? How can we come back, smile, laugh again?” She looked down at the other nation sadly, “Chua, I’m harsh. I used to be a farmer. And five decades of war, I do not think so anymore.” She paused, gesturing towards him. “And you…you’re not involved in the business of your people at all. I have no diplomatic relations with you. You don’t know anything about me. And I don’t know anything about you.”
“You’re a Westerner –and as far as I know- in the next century we could be lobbing fucking bombs at each other. If you think about it…it’s better this way, da?” She pulled at one of her bangs, scowling when it brushed up against the stiff fabric on her head. She did not like reminders of her carelessness –and it was undeniable that a string of guilt tugged at her chest when she spotted the faint red imprint on his cheek where she had slapped him. Well. Not my fault he didn’t dodge, is it? She bit her lip, scuffing a boot on the dusty earth and continuing.
“Well, when we get out of here,” Kim-Ly smiled mirthlessly, “which will be soon enough.” The though –again- crossed her mind that maybe the way out of the Manor wasn’t as simple as she thought. But that was silly –they were nations, after all, who would even dare trap them?
“What, are you serious? It's clunky. How am I supposed to run wearing that? Besides, it would clash with what I'm already wearing."
Kim-Ly rolled her eyes. “Chua, who are you? Taiwan? Now’s not the time to worry about things ‘clashing’,” she shook her head disdainfully. Ignoring his protests she strode over and slid the plates over his head. Her brows crinkled; peculiar expression settling over her face. She hadn’t expected it to fit that well, hell; she hadn’t let anyone touch it since General Le died. A soft sigh fell from her mouth; Vietnam shook her head. She leaned forward quickly; tightening some ribbons (died scarlet, of course, were there any better colors?) in some places and loosening them in others. “It fits you, da? It’s a good fit…you’ll have no problems running in it,” She offered a halfhearted smile, “Not that you’ll have to run at all, tch, as if anything would get past me.” Vietnam turned again, scanning the ground for the red Ao Dai she’d thrown aside earlier –there it was by the long grasses.
Another glance at Romano. “It really does fit you well, perhaps you’re more of a fighter than you thought,” She hurried away, kneeling on the ground to pick u[ the discarded garment, silk and sand slipping through and around her fingers as she shakily pulled it over her head. She hadn’t bothered to unbutton it before.
Silk and sand…Ha! I never could keep anything clean. Well, she didn't roll in filth, but if her activities leaned towards Rice Farming and diplomacy...then she did have a propensity towards messiness. Diplomacy even more than farming because...well, she liked her wine, didn't she? Whether it was general tipsiness or old age, Kim-Ly had the awful habit of tripping or dropping things.
“Romano, toss me my oar, will you?” She called, holding out her hand expectantly –and smugly doubting his aim.
"I don't understand you much either."
“Lovely. Honesty, that’s better.” Remarked the woman, despite her words, she grasped his hand for a few more seconds before standing up…only to have the other nation pull her back again.
“Yes," Kim-Ly huffed as she was pulled down to the earth again, falling forward in an inelegant slump. “Romano? What do you think you’re-” She started, trying to catch her breath.
"I do." Her breath caught in her throat, mouth forming a surprised “O”. "You're not any less beautiful because you fought and suffered the consequences. They're not flaws. I should know!" Doing her best to ignore the finger tracing over her arm, she looked over at the other nation, gold eyes meeting green.
She was not fazed per se, maybe annoyed (for Vietnam was used to having the upper hand in such encounters)…but the most dominant emotion buzzing through her head was, in fact, surprise. And that surprised her, because Kim-Ly wasn’t used to being surprised either.
"…because I'm the most flawed person I know. And I don't have any scars to show for it."
She stood up, his hand falling slowly from her arm. It felt colder. “Well, that’s a stupid thing to think,” blurted out the woman before she could stop herself. She leaned forward, resting a small hand on his shoulder and squeezing tightly. “Unless you’ve kicked any puppies or stabbed any children recently…I don’t think you’re any worse than the rest of us.”
"Of course," Vietnam released his arm, cautiously evaluating whether the smile that crept over his face was dangerous or not. She had been unaware his face could contort in that fashion –but then again, who was she to talk? "It probably doesn't matter what I say, because you'll find a way to counter it. And then I'll be made a fool, you'll tease me for it, I'll get riled up again, and you'll get mad at me. Rinse and repeat."
Maybe it was the “Rinsing and Repeating” that got to her (A hair metaphor. It was obviously a hair metaphor.)…but Vietnam could feel her heart soften. She sighed.
“Aiyah, Romano…they send us off to war and expect us to come back and just act normal people? After killing and torturing? Watching –feeling- our people die? How can we come back, smile, laugh again?” She looked down at the other nation sadly, “Chua, I’m harsh. I used to be a farmer. And five decades of war, I do not think so anymore.” She paused, gesturing towards him. “And you…you’re not involved in the business of your people at all. I have no diplomatic relations with you. You don’t know anything about me. And I don’t know anything about you.”
“You’re a Westerner –and as far as I know- in the next century we could be lobbing fucking bombs at each other. If you think about it…it’s better this way, da?” She pulled at one of her bangs, scowling when it brushed up against the stiff fabric on her head. She did not like reminders of her carelessness –and it was undeniable that a string of guilt tugged at her chest when she spotted the faint red imprint on his cheek where she had slapped him. Well. Not my fault he didn’t dodge, is it? She bit her lip, scuffing a boot on the dusty earth and continuing.
“Well, when we get out of here,” Kim-Ly smiled mirthlessly, “which will be soon enough.” The though –again- crossed her mind that maybe the way out of the Manor wasn’t as simple as she thought. But that was silly –they were nations, after all, who would even dare trap them?
“What, are you serious? It's clunky. How am I supposed to run wearing that? Besides, it would clash with what I'm already wearing."
Kim-Ly rolled her eyes. “Chua, who are you? Taiwan? Now’s not the time to worry about things ‘clashing’,” she shook her head disdainfully. Ignoring his protests she strode over and slid the plates over his head. Her brows crinkled; peculiar expression settling over her face. She hadn’t expected it to fit that well, hell; she hadn’t let anyone touch it since General Le died. A soft sigh fell from her mouth; Vietnam shook her head. She leaned forward quickly; tightening some ribbons (died scarlet, of course, were there any better colors?) in some places and loosening them in others. “It fits you, da? It’s a good fit…you’ll have no problems running in it,” She offered a halfhearted smile, “Not that you’ll have to run at all, tch, as if anything would get past me.” Vietnam turned again, scanning the ground for the red Ao Dai she’d thrown aside earlier –there it was by the long grasses.
Another glance at Romano. “It really does fit you well, perhaps you’re more of a fighter than you thought,” She hurried away, kneeling on the ground to pick u[ the discarded garment, silk and sand slipping through and around her fingers as she shakily pulled it over her head. She hadn’t bothered to unbutton it before.
Silk and sand…Ha! I never could keep anything clean. Well, she didn't roll in filth, but if her activities leaned towards Rice Farming and diplomacy...then she did have a propensity towards messiness. Diplomacy even more than farming because...well, she liked her wine, didn't she? Whether it was general tipsiness or old age, Kim-Ly had the awful habit of tripping or dropping things.
“Romano, toss me my oar, will you?” She called, holding out her hand expectantly –and smugly doubting his aim.