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Sunlight on the Dnieper [Sweden/Ukraine]
Title: Sunlight on the Dnieper
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Sweden/Ukraine
Rating: 0+
Length: 170 words
Summary: He barely remembers those days. He wonders if she does.
Other: Memories of Varangian trade routes. Written for HWD's drabble game; prompt was 'river'. Format for this session was 50-70-50 words ("haikufic").
Sunlight on the Dnieper
The memory of broad rivers is sketched in his mind. He remembers the rapids and spray, sun sparkling bright on the water. Boats loaded with trade goods – stolen goods, too. Could be either or both in those days. But her face is one thing he can hardly remember at all.
He knows he must have met her there, that on some voyage he must have seen her. That in the city that is now hers, where their people met, they must have seen each other. But this was so long ago, and they were so young then, and all he has left is a faded impression of braided golden hair and flowers, and bright eyes that left him tongue tied.
More than once he's thought of asking her if she remembers. Now, they share coffee, their hands linked together, and the scent of her poppyseed rolls fills his kitchen. He thinks once again of sunlight on the Dnieper, and wonders, but doesn't ask. It's something best left in the past.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Sweden/Ukraine
Rating: 0+
Length: 170 words
Summary: He barely remembers those days. He wonders if she does.
Other: Memories of Varangian trade routes. Written for HWD's drabble game; prompt was 'river'. Format for this session was 50-70-50 words ("haikufic").
Sunlight on the Dnieper
The memory of broad rivers is sketched in his mind. He remembers the rapids and spray, sun sparkling bright on the water. Boats loaded with trade goods – stolen goods, too. Could be either or both in those days. But her face is one thing he can hardly remember at all.
He knows he must have met her there, that on some voyage he must have seen her. That in the city that is now hers, where their people met, they must have seen each other. But this was so long ago, and they were so young then, and all he has left is a faded impression of braided golden hair and flowers, and bright eyes that left him tongue tied.
More than once he's thought of asking her if she remembers. Now, they share coffee, their hands linked together, and the scent of her poppyseed rolls fills his kitchen. He thinks once again of sunlight on the Dnieper, and wonders, but doesn't ask. It's something best left in the past.