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As usual, the dates are there for inspiration--they may be interpreted however you wish. âLateâ submissions are more than welcome, and you do not need to include both themes--thereâs two for each day in case one theme doesnât really tickle your fancy.
Furthermore: Dates! August 11th - 17th will be the week the event is taking place this year! Mark your calendars and prepare your ideas!
Full list of rules for the event can be found here.
Iâve been messing up the days, but they prompt for this one was soulmates! so a soulmate au where you can hear the song that your soulmate is currently listening to
Title: sweetest mouth and sharpest scythe
Rating:Â T
Pairing: Belarus/Czech Republic
Word Count: 1,092
Warning:Â Blood mention
Summary:Â In her haste to finish harvesting, Lenka remains in the fields during the hottest part of the day - the part when beautiful noonwraiths approach their latest victims.
Notes: Written for @aphyuriweek2019 Day 2: Mythology/Culture, featuring the Slavic creature known as polednice or noonwraiths
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Blue is a color they have a deep connection to, embedded in both their lands and their physical forms. The color of life and strength and endurance but also one of deep longing and sadness.
written for day one of aph yuri week 2019, prompt: colors ao3 here
To Lithuania it felt like the blue of Belarusâs eyes  was the richest and most lovely hue imaginable. They were more beautiful than the sky, than the rivers that crisscrossed both of  their lands, and than the twinkling  night sky. Every time she gazed at them she felt  blessed,, like her soul was on fire, and that she hungered and thirsted for more despite  their  harsh cold glare.
Lithuania remembered the  first time she had gazed into  those blue blue eyes.  She had only been a young girl and  being pagan, wondered if it was one of the coming to visit her. She soon later learned this sullen, yet lovely and proud looking girl was a being like her and just as wild and as fierce as she  was  in her own way.
Yet despite that  she had the color of gentle flax flowers in her eyes  and she loved her forth hat. Being  so young she had little idea  what these feelings  were and chalked it up to feeling intimated by young Polotsk, only to grow to love her more as time and wars and conquest brought them together, albeit in less than ideal circumstances. For a time after becoming Catholic and realizing her feelings she wondered if it was permitted to love those beautiful flowers, only to come to the conclusion that if God did not wish it, he would have never graced  her with such a beautiful gift.
Each century it felt that she grew more lovely  and even after hardships, pain, despair, and death it gladdened Lithuania that ever  with all that the gentle flax flowers were still growing in Belarusâs eyes.
-
Blue, they were a dark steely blue like that of the Neman river with itâs coursing unyielding flow and dark depths. There was a  strength in them that  time  and hardship could never quell, and despite herself Belarus couldnât help but admire  that.
At first sight so long ago she was intrigued by  those blue blue eyes. However after being taken over and after Poland intruded into their lives she wanted to hate them them,  and now she didnât know what to feel about them at all.
Yet there was something inside her, something she couldnât place and didnât understand that drew her close to the nation with those eyes, though she tried her best to resist and suppress it.
It infuriated her, and yet every time she  gazed at the Neman river it was like Lithuania herself was gazing back at her and she could not bring herself to look away.
For day two of @aphyuriweek2019, I chose the theme of âcultureâ and the pairing is nyo!HongIce. This is honestly short enough to count as a drabble, which is quite a contrast from my last entry.
  No measuring cups, no measuring spoons, no nothing. Sula closes the cupboard door and hops off the stepstool, turning to Leonor. âWhere do you keep your measuring tools?â
  Leonor taps her spoon against the edge of the bowl. âPardon?â
  âThe measuring tools,â Sula repeats, âyou know, the measuring cups and stuff?â
  She grabs the metal claw and lowers the dish into the steamer. âWe donât have those.â
  âWhat?â Sula stares at Leonor. âBut how do you cook without them? I remember that one time when Linn misplaced her electric scale and couldnât make anything! Doesnât that happen to you guys?â
  Rolling her eyes, Leonor scoops up a cupful of rice and gestures to the rice cooker. âObserve.â She pours the rice in, turning to the sink to pour water in as well, then placing her hand palm-down on top of the rice. âIâm going to pour the water in until my hand is fully submerged, and thatâs how much water weâll need to cook the rice.â Leonor takes her hand out, shakes it dry and slams the rice cooker shut. âThere. No measuring tools needed.â
  âButâŚâ Sula watches as her girlfriend punches buttons on the rice cooker. âYouâll get the water dirty, and everyoneâs hands are different.â
  âI - whatever.â Leonor opens the steamer cover and is momentarily hidden by a cloud of steam. âThat trickâs worked ever since rice cookers were invented, probably, weâve never gone wrong with it.â
  Sula gestures incoherently at Leonor, nonchalantly pouring light soy sauce over the dish of steamed eggs. âBut what about sauces, or bread, or desserts? You have to get the measurements correct for those or things will turn out terrible!â
  Leonor shrugs. âI donât know, Kiku eyeballs the slurry when she makes gyoza and Yaoâs herbal jelly always turn out amazing.â
  âShe eyeballs the slurry!?â She waves her arms around. âBut without the most precise base, your dish could end up a lumpy mess!â
  âYou Westerners rely on measurements too much.â Leonor reaches out one hand and hovers it over Sulaâs chest, right where her heart should be. âJust use your gut feeling. Feel it in your heart.â
  âDonât be so sappy, Iâll use my magic Spidey Sense to measure food from now on, okay?â She smiles, kisses Leonorâs fingertips and goes to check on the rice.
...
A/N: In Chinese and occasionally Japanese home cooking, precise measurements are rarely used. The palm trick for cooking rice is sometimes replaced by the finger trick, which I never learned but is probably just as helpful.
The mermaids in the streams never socialize with the fairies who hid behind green leaves.
They would swim by quickly at the sound of a fairy voice without a look back.
The fairies, in turn, would avoid them as well.
They would quickly duck behind a mossy stone at the sound of a nearby splash.
No one knew exactly why. No one even knew which side had begun avoiding the other first. Had it been because of envy for being able to fly in cloudless skies or envy for being able to play at the bottom of the waters? Perhaps a fairy had once played a dirty trick on a mermaid? Or a mermaid might have drenched a fairies beautiful wings. No one knew for sure, but they knew that it was the way things had always been.
But there were the occasional few who questioned such ways.
A fairy with emeralds for eyes cautiously flew deeper into the forest. She held her blonde hair back in a blue bow and kept an eye on the sides of her path. At her side, she had a small bag containing books of adventure and wonder. She held on tightly to the strap as she flew up and down and side to side.
Suddenly she stops at a waterfall. Carefully she inspects the sides of the rock and quickly finds a crack large enough for her to fit inside. She slips in and cautiously walks farther in. Soon she finds an exit and in front of her lies a lagoon with many rocks to lie on. A mermaid sits on one and watches her tail shimmer in the limited light the cave allows.
The mermaids platinum hair spilled behind her as she lightly played with it. Her scales were a dark blue that would blend with the water as she swam. She too had a small bag at her side filled with stories she found dear to her.
âNatalya! Youâre here early!â The fairy sits down on a rock above her friend and grows to her full height.
âYes, my brother happily allows me out now. He finds it exciting that I no longer spend my days in my room.â
âAh! That makes sense! My brothers believe I just love reading outside! They think I found a nice, hidden spot and theyâre not wrong!â
Natalya lets herself smile and relax more, âWell, what new stories did you bring Emma? I brought some of the stories we usually tell the young but thought youâd find them cute.â
âReally?! I brought some murder mystery books, and youâre definitely welcome to tell me your theories while we read them!â
âAnd if I guess the ending?â
âThen that would just be more proof about how smart you are!â
Natalya softly laughs and pulls out her books. Emma follows to do the same as she beams.
âYou know itâs quite funny.â
Emma tilts her head, âWhat is?â
âJust us. Weâre so different and yet so similar. But also, imagine what our siblings must think when they see what books weâre reading?â
Emma nods in thought and laughs.
Outside the cave, no one hears the sounds of whispers and splashes melding together.