Wrong turn [Poland & Marzanna]
Dec. 21st, 2018 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Wrong turn
Fandom: Hetalia & Slavic mythology
Characters/Pairing: Poland & Marzanna
Rating: 0+
Length: 200 words
Summary: That feeling when you get lost in the woods and come across an unfamiliar cottage...
Other: No specific time period; let's just say "vague fantasyish historical", haha. Written for HWD drabble game; prompt was "Dark forest".
Wrong turn
Lost in the woods? Impossible! This was his forest, after all! A quick trip out for firewood – how could he lose his way?
But the more Poland walked, the more worried he became. Soon, night would fall. Then he'd really be in trouble.
He nearly tripped over the cottage. A warm glow through its windows – how fortunate! At least he wouldn't freeze.
The woman who answered was old and elegant, her dark eyes like a winter night's sky.
She looked him up and down, and he could tell by her face she knew him for who he was.
He knew her for who she was, too.
Poland's words stuck in his throat.
He could see past her into the house. A raven perched in the rafters, and a scythe rested against the wall near the hearth.
"I, um." What could he possibly say? "I'm sorry, but I'm lost – um, could I stay the night?"
She stared, silent, then threw back her head and laughed – and stepped aside to let him in.
He had burned her every spring for hundreds of years, and now he'd come begging at her door.
Maybe it would have been better to freeze in the snow.
Fandom: Hetalia & Slavic mythology
Characters/Pairing: Poland & Marzanna
Rating: 0+
Length: 200 words
Summary: That feeling when you get lost in the woods and come across an unfamiliar cottage...
Other: No specific time period; let's just say "vague fantasyish historical", haha. Written for HWD drabble game; prompt was "Dark forest".
Wrong turn
Lost in the woods? Impossible! This was his forest, after all! A quick trip out for firewood – how could he lose his way?
But the more Poland walked, the more worried he became. Soon, night would fall. Then he'd really be in trouble.
He nearly tripped over the cottage. A warm glow through its windows – how fortunate! At least he wouldn't freeze.
The woman who answered was old and elegant, her dark eyes like a winter night's sky.
She looked him up and down, and he could tell by her face she knew him for who he was.
He knew her for who she was, too.
Poland's words stuck in his throat.
He could see past her into the house. A raven perched in the rafters, and a scythe rested against the wall near the hearth.
"I, um." What could he possibly say? "I'm sorry, but I'm lost – um, could I stay the night?"
She stared, silent, then threw back her head and laughed – and stepped aside to let him in.
He had burned her every spring for hundreds of years, and now he'd come begging at her door.
Maybe it would have been better to freeze in the snow.
