At dusk [Sweden/Norway]
Nov. 3rd, 2018 12:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: At dusk
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Sweden/Norway
Rating: 0+
Length: ~450 words
Summary: Sweden isn't sure what really lurks in Norway's forests. He does know that he doesn't want to find out.
Other: Written for SuNor week. Prompt was "Folklore".
At dusk
Don't go into the woods at night.
Especially not here, in these mountains forests, where untold things might be lurking.
Norway tells him these things, reminding him now and then to make sure he doesn't forget. Oh, Sweden's people have their stories too, and they're much the same. They both know the tales well, but Norway takes it so seriously. He seems to think that it's necessary to remind Sweden. As if he needs to know. As if he might forget.
This weighs on Sweden's mind as they make their way back along the forest trails to Norway's house.
The sun is sinking, dipping beneath the mountains, beneath the treetops. Their walk took longer than they had expected. At this time of year, the daylight hours are rapidly shortening, and it's becoming harder and harder to predict when darkness will fall. The lack of light isn't worrying, exactly. Norway knows these trails like the back of his hand, and there is no way the two of them could get lost.
But it still feels a bit uncanny out here in the dimming light. It might be Norway's fault, Sweden thinks.
Norway glances at him. He has his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker. The autumn breeze has mussed his hair.
"Worried?" he asks. As if there's reason to be.
Sweden grunts a reply. Shakes his head. No, he isn't, and if he was there is no way he'd admit to it.
"I wasn't fibbing about those tracks, you know."
Troll tracks, Norway had said when they came across a mysterious trail on their walk. Broad and long and set deep into the ground. They followed the trail for a while until they lost it. Of all the ridiculous things – it was a joke, Sweden was sure. Some locals playing a prank, perhaps. And then Norway doing the same with him, with all of his comments about how one shouldn't stick around a place where one had been, especially not with night approaching so quickly.
And now, here Norway is, reminding him of it, still playing that same joke.
It's nothing. That's what it is.
But that doesn't change the fact that the sky is getting darker by the minute.
Norway slips his hand out of his pocket and offers it. "They won't bother you if you're with me," he says simply. "Stick close, now."
After a moment, Sweden takes his hand, squeezing it gently.
The sun has almost set.
It might just be an excuse to get him holding his hand. Sweden wonders about it for a moment, and doesn't let go, deciding he might as well humour him. At least until they get back to the warmth and comfort of Norway's house.
There's no harm in that, after all. And one never knows what they might find in these woods – or what might find them.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Sweden/Norway
Rating: 0+
Length: ~450 words
Summary: Sweden isn't sure what really lurks in Norway's forests. He does know that he doesn't want to find out.
Other: Written for SuNor week. Prompt was "Folklore".
At dusk
Don't go into the woods at night.
Especially not here, in these mountains forests, where untold things might be lurking.
Norway tells him these things, reminding him now and then to make sure he doesn't forget. Oh, Sweden's people have their stories too, and they're much the same. They both know the tales well, but Norway takes it so seriously. He seems to think that it's necessary to remind Sweden. As if he needs to know. As if he might forget.
This weighs on Sweden's mind as they make their way back along the forest trails to Norway's house.
The sun is sinking, dipping beneath the mountains, beneath the treetops. Their walk took longer than they had expected. At this time of year, the daylight hours are rapidly shortening, and it's becoming harder and harder to predict when darkness will fall. The lack of light isn't worrying, exactly. Norway knows these trails like the back of his hand, and there is no way the two of them could get lost.
But it still feels a bit uncanny out here in the dimming light. It might be Norway's fault, Sweden thinks.
Norway glances at him. He has his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker. The autumn breeze has mussed his hair.
"Worried?" he asks. As if there's reason to be.
Sweden grunts a reply. Shakes his head. No, he isn't, and if he was there is no way he'd admit to it.
"I wasn't fibbing about those tracks, you know."
Troll tracks, Norway had said when they came across a mysterious trail on their walk. Broad and long and set deep into the ground. They followed the trail for a while until they lost it. Of all the ridiculous things – it was a joke, Sweden was sure. Some locals playing a prank, perhaps. And then Norway doing the same with him, with all of his comments about how one shouldn't stick around a place where one had been, especially not with night approaching so quickly.
And now, here Norway is, reminding him of it, still playing that same joke.
It's nothing. That's what it is.
But that doesn't change the fact that the sky is getting darker by the minute.
Norway slips his hand out of his pocket and offers it. "They won't bother you if you're with me," he says simply. "Stick close, now."
After a moment, Sweden takes his hand, squeezing it gently.
The sun has almost set.
It might just be an excuse to get him holding his hand. Sweden wonders about it for a moment, and doesn't let go, deciding he might as well humour him. At least until they get back to the warmth and comfort of Norway's house.
There's no harm in that, after all. And one never knows what they might find in these woods – or what might find them.
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