#slomace

BosHerze Castle

“…and that’s the gardens, and this is the castle!”

Bosnia spread her arms wide as she gestured towards the sturdy looking fortress. “We’ll be staying here a while before we continue on to Visoko.”

Zahumlje said nothing. He was miserable. At least when he was being bossed around by Serbia or Croatia or Rome*, they had been taller and older, so them being more powerful was fine. But now, he was being bossed around by some girl a head shorter than him with flowers in her scandalously short hair. It was the worst embarrassment a nation could imagine.

Life sucked.

*Rome in this case is the Byzantine empire, as when it still existed it was just called Rome.

SloMace Wicked

“Oh, wicked!”

Primož raised an eyebrow at Vesna. “Wicked?”

She grinned. “It means, like, cool. It’s slang. Doesn’t hurt to try slang sometimes, you know. All the cool, hip bands say it.”

He definitely did not pout as he said, “I can use slang.”

“Sure, Primo.” Vesna smiled patronizingly at him, then paused and tilted her head slightly, as if thinking hard. “Going back to cool bands though, you’re a part of ours, so I guess we automatically don’t qualify as cool. How sad.”

He threw a nearby shoe at her, as she laughed and danced out of the room.

SerbCro Evaluate

“Novak.”

“Krešimir.”

The two men evaluated the other. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, at least not outside the professional business sphere, and suddenly happening upon the other man so casually raised their hackles quite a bit. They gazed intently, as if those gazes would reveal the other man’s weaknesses and secrets.

This show off, however, would’ve been significantly more tension filled if it weren’t for the fact that they were in a dog park and Novak’s dog Ben was sniffing Krešimir’s dog Jelena’s butt.

Novak tugged on the leash. “Ben, stop that. Oh, Lea don’t you start.”

CroHun Explosion

Croatia threw himself on the ground as the enemy sent another volley of arrows, these setting the wood in the castle on fire. He wouldn’t die from the arrows, not permanently at least, but it would still hurt. Sieges sucked.

He chanced peeking up and saw Hungary standing straight over the ramparts, laughing and making rude hand signs towards the enemies. He stared at the older boy in disbelief and awe.

“Are you crazy?” Croatia yelled over the sounds of battle. He ducked down as more arrows rained down.

He heard Hungary laugh, and decided yes, the boy was nuts.

*this is during the time Hungary thought she was a boy.

MontHerze Strike

Nada slammed the trunk closed and looked through the window, grinning. She sauntered around the car to the passenger seat and sat so she was straddling Danica.

Danica gave her a chastising look, but Nada could only properly see one eye, so the reprimand was minimalized. Nada grinned unashamedly.

“Are the—”

“Weapons all in? Yes, it’s all good.”

Danica let out an irritated huff, but put her hands on Nada’s waist and Nada’s grin grew smug. She put her own arms around Danica and leaned in. “We’re ahead of schedule, we could—”

She was interrupted by a kiss.

*Nada is nyo!Herzegovina

MontMace Moonlight

The moonlight brightens Vesna’s hair, turning the auburn locks into a fierce red befitting her fierce personality. Her tanned skin doesn’t fare as well though, looking too pale and washed out wherever the moonbeams hit. Even against stark white sheets, her skin seems too dull for such a vibrant person.

Danica lightly pushes some curls off Vesna’s shoulder, then traces a finger down her arm. Vesna doesn’t stir, so different from her constant moving when awake.

The colors, the movement, it’s all so off.

Danica leaves the bed then. Vesna at night is too different from Vesna during the day.

SerbMont Rose

Danica looked down at Novak’s hands. “What’s this?”

He gave her an irritated look. “It’s a flower. A rose. Several of them, actually. I’m sure you’ve seen flowers before, they’re pretty common.”

Now, she gave the irritated look. “I know what flowers are. Why are you giving it to me?”

“Because I like to give gifts?”

“Of a bouquet of roses? You?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Novak shoved the bouquet into her chest. If Danica didn’t know better, she would’ve said he was blushing. “Just take the damn flowers, already.”

She grabbed them, just so they didn’t fall to the floor.

SerbGre Gaudy

Novak stared down at the shirt he was wearing.

“Do you really think this looks good,” he asked Heracles.

“Have I ever led you wrong?”

“All the time.”

“How about with fashion?”

“Yeah, then too.”

Heracles ignored that. “It looks fine. Everyone will be talking about it.”

Novak looked down at his outfit once more. “I don’t know, purple and orange…”

Heracles crossed his arms, and imagined petting a cat to calm down. “Fine, I’ll wear it then.” He started unbuttoning Novak’s shirt, then paused. He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want to take it all off and stay in?”

KosLiech Hypnotise

Aleksandra pulled excitedly on Lili’s hand, leading the smaller girl through the tents at the fair. “The fortune teller’s tent was right over here!”

Lili plodded along behind her, not as convinced that going to a fortune teller was a great idea. “I don’t know, Sandra. Do you really want to get hypnotized or something?”

Aleksandra looked over her shoulder. “To see my future? Uh, yeah! It’s gonna be awesome, don’t worry about it.”

The arrived in front of a purple tent with an eye on the front flap, still holding hands. Aleksandra gave Lili a smile. “It’ll be fine.”

BosTurk Broom

Bosnia swept up the colorful glass shards. Serbia, Wallachia, and Greece had broken one of Turkey’s vases. Again.

Boys, she scoffed in her thoughts as she carefully tipped the shards from the broom pan into a cloth bag to throw away later. No respect for their betters.

Because Turkey was in so many ways their better! Not only was he taller and older and more handsome than Serbia, Romania, and Greece could ever hope to be, he was also kind and gentle. Yet, he knew when to be tough.

“Unless they pay, right?”

Primož quickly glances up, and away from the red, leatherbound book. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Unless they pay for gas and beer.”

Vesna snorts. “Figures. Though, you’d complain about the beer, anyways.”

“Not my fault Novak doesn’t have good taste.” Primož answers as he sticks his nose in the air and huffs. Vesna knows he’s joking, but she also knows there’s a little bit of annoyance towards the last time he trusted their friend to buy him alcohol. “Krešimir is on thin ice.”

“Because he has better taste in wine?”

“Because he has better taste in wine,” Primož confirms with a little nod. He hasn’t moved from his spot by the bookshelf, nor has he let go of that book. Vesna had already moved to another spot in her living room, cleaning off her television stand. She has a variety of knick-knacks, ranging from small stuffed animals she had received as gifts over the years, to pictures of her and her human friends.

Yet, they’re working slowly. They were supposed to have been done by early afternoon, since they had started after an early breakfast and it’s not like her place is very big. They had come up with every excuse in the book to go slowly, from frequent coffee breaks to pausing to look at old stuff she still had.

As Vesna works in silence, Primož curiously opens up the book. The very first page, as he had assumed, was a note from himself to her. It was mostly an acknowledgement--a thank you--for her supporting him with his hobby of writing. She hadn’t made fun of him then for liking poetry, and even gave him suggestions of poets.

The note also contained a thank you for the joy he had when they ran off together. Being around her, as he recalled, was the best time in his long life. For that period of time--for as short as it had felt--he didn’t feel old, he didn’t feel as tired and his creativity had come rushing back to him. He wrote the most then.

In the corner, there’s a little stain of coffee--no doubt it had been an accident. He doesn’t know if he caused it or if she did. That part is blank. Still, it doesn’t matter, he supposes. It just adds to its ever lengthened age.

Primož flips through the pages, stopping every so often. He had tried his hand at romantic poems, some of them were too corny and he finds himself cringing at the poor use of some words. Again, every so often, he comes across different coffee stains.

“Hey,” he finally speaks as he closes the book and holds it up. “Did you get this published?” Of course she did, that’s why its leatherbound and not in its original notebook (were the pages had been torn, where he had scribbled words and doodled in other parts--he remembers complaining that he needed a new notebook because he was running out). 

Vesna looks up and over at him, curious as to what he could be referring to. Her eyes widen for a brief moment.

“Oh! Yeah,” She stands up and stretches a bit. “The notebook was getting really worn down, so I went and had someone publish it into a book. I hope that was okay.”

He had given her the notebook as a thank you gift, so it was hers to do with as he pleased. Primož hadn’t expected her to do anything with it.

“Oh, well. It’s yours.” He says, feeling his face heat up a little bit. “I didn’t think you’d like it that much.” That comes out as a mumble, and he hopes Vesna didn’t hear him say that.

“I think you’re a good writer, and you giving me that notebook meant a lot, so.” Vesna shrugs, feeling as embarrassed as he does. “I just wanted to make sure nothing became unreadable. After I left, I think I read the notebook every day.” She pauses for a moment. “It was a source of comfort, because I missed you. I missed everyone, a lot.”

An easy way to hold onto old memories, he thinks.

“Well, um,” Primož says, a little awkwardly, unable to look at her. What does he say to that? “Thank you.” That doesn’t feel right.

“I still have the original notebook,” she says, quickly. “It’s put away somewhere. All of your drawings are also in that book.” Of course, he feels a sense of pride and flattery, but yet, at a loss for words.

He licks his lips, trying to think. Primož doesn’t just want them to lapse into an awkward silence, especially now that he’s made it awkward. He draws in a deep breath and lets it out. Think, he sternly tells himself. Vesna is already getting back to work, quickly packing away more things.

“Wanna take a break?” He finally asks as he gently sets the book back down on the shelf. She has to be moved out in two days, and the constant breaks won’t help, but they can pull an all nighter. “And get a coffee? I’ll pay.”