by Lore-heika » Sun Oct 10, 2010 3:13 am
A rustling of leaves, a gentle crack of a twig- much akin to that of a snapping bone- resonates from a field, that which two figures stand upon. The Italian shudders, urging his younger brother forward with incoherent desperation as the predatory follower chases them in high pursuit. He trips suddenly over a rock, ankle twisting sickeningly as his knee skids against the earth, blood welling up in pools from his leg. He grits his teeth together, turning towards his brother. "Leave me here, $@*% it!"
"But... But fratello-"
"Go, $#!@ you!" the elder brother snaps, breath coming forth in heavy pants as the typical cowardice overwhelms his body, and ultimately ensnares his mind. The younger wipes fitfully at the tears welling up in his eyes, wrapping his arms around his brother and planting a sloppy, brotherly kiss upon his cheek before scampering clumsily off, vanishing into the shadowed abyss of the pine forest ahead.
The elder Italian winces, gasping at the pain in his foot. He must have twisted it horribly... Sighing, he rises shakily, making it to his knees before a bullet whizzes past his face, just barely running askew of his nose. His body turns, stumbling backwards onto the ground once more, as their attacker comes into full view now. He is a man, slightly shorter than the Italian- or perhaps it is just the angle at which he is viewing this man- with vivid green eyes and a mop of blonde hair atop his head. A gun is nestled in the crook of his arm, cocked and ready to fire.
"Get off my land," the blonde threatens, aiming his gun more accurately at the Italian. The latter, however, is paralyzed with fear, motionless and wide-eyed at the rifle. The Italian merely sits there, utterly horrified, as the weapon is fired, and the sound of a gunshot echoes throughout the pine forest.
And it is, at this point, that all consciousness slips away from the Italian- Lovino Romano Vargas, death by gunshot.
May he rest in peace.
Lovino groaned, massaging his throbbing temples as he rose from his bed, springs of the mattress squeaking with every motion he made. A sigh escaped his parted lips as he glanced towards his younger brother- his junior by about two years or so- who was lying beside him in their bed. Why was it that they shared a mattress? To put it mildly, his brother was the most pathetic person on the face of the planet, and couldn't get to sleep without some frame beside him. Well, er, and then there was the aspect that they slept naked, but... Well, thats not of the utmost importance. What DOES matter is that Feliciano- his brother- was still fast asleep, meaning that Lovino could dress and prepare himself for hell (otherwise known as school) at a much less strenuous level.
That dream...
It had been the fifth time he had dreamt a dream such as that, typically involving his death, on some foim or another, at the expenses of different people. There had also been one, involving his fratello... But that one had been exceptionally explicit...
A shiver racked his body as he rose out of bed, careful not to awaken his snoozing brother, and pulled on a shirt and a pair of navy pants- the school uniform- and clipped a tie between the collar. He lazily combed through his auburn hair, taking special precaution to avoid the single curl sticking out bizarrely from his scalp, and headed downstairs.
"Lovino!" Ugh...
As he sauntered down the stairwell, his grandfather- their current guardian- greeted him with a hearty slap on the back. The older man beheld a goofy smile, and, despite his grandfatherly status, appeared quite young- young enough to be an old father, really, if taking he norm into consideration. What had happened to the boys' parents... Well, let's just say it wasn't a subject that aroused a particularly happy feeling inside of Lovino.
The Italian student maneuvered past his grandfather and grabbed a slice of toast, slabbing some butter onto one side and sitting down at the kitchen table. His grandfather came to sit beside him, opening his mouth to speak when another voice sounded from the top of the stairs. "Ve~! Buongiorno!" With that, Feliciano Vargas came skipping- effin' SKIPPING..., Lovino scoffed with a frown- down the steps, hurrying over into his grandfather's open arms for a tight hug. "What's for breakfast, Grandpa Roma?"
"Morning, Feli!" the older man replied with a giddy smile, admiring the younger boy with a pat atop his head. "Sorry, no time to make breakfast this morning. I have a conference in an hour..."
"Then shouldn't you be going to THAT right now?!" Lovino sighed, placing his head in his hands. Honestly...!
The elder man frowned suddenly, gasping gently and rushing towards the front door. "... Oh, heh, you're right! Sorry, I just- ah, got a little sidetracked. Have fun at school, you two!" Lovino rolled his eyes once Grandpa Roma was out of the house. Sidetracked- this typically meant talking over the phone with his girlfriend. However, one could neve be too sure WHICH girlfriend it was, with how easily his grandfather drifted from one woman to another.
"Fratello! What do you think school will be like?" Feliciano asked happily, wrapping his arms around his brother's shoulders. This would be their first time going to a public school, having gone to a private Catholic academy prior to their relocation to move in with their grandfather. Undoubtedly, the experiences would be different... All the more reason for Lovino to dread his already suckish life.
Lovino wriggled out of his sibling's grasp and scowled, stuffing the rest of his books and whatnot into his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He stuffed the final bite of toast into his mouth before slipping on a pair of shoes and heading towards the door. "Come on, Feli! %*&$, you're slow!"
"Ve, coming!" With a cheerful grin, Feliciano grabbed his bag as well and bounded up to follow beside his brother, locking the door behind him and beginning the walk to school.
How is it so far? I have a feeling that the SwitzerlandxRomano will become more predominate...
Satisfying so far, Kat~? XD
I never wouldve written this without your input... And it'll get more crackish in time.
So how do you p o r t r a y the sentiment?
The ruse is b r o u g h t, the truth is b e n t.
We never f e e l right, long nights,
F o l l o w i n g into the day.
Dead as the street light, pure white,
W a s h i n g the color away.