axkingforit

August 3rd, 2009 Spain had, for decades upon decades, always prevailed upon his older brother to come spend the summer months with him in his smaller rural towns and Portugal (sometimes less than politely) turned him down each time; it was difficult to tell at times whether Spain’s insistence stemmed from actual fraternal concern or his immense desire to pelt his brother with tomatoes. It was likely both at once, Portugal decided, because Spain felt several things all at once and always passionately, but never intensely. So he could not understand, with his own unbearable lightness of feeling, Portugal’s desire to spend the firs

Courte priére pénètre les cieux. 23 December 1923 ”I admit to being a very bad Catholic. There, is that satisfactory?” "Take this seriously," the old priest said wearily. “This is your eternal soul we’re speaking of." "Ah yes, of course. Pardon me. Ahem. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been eleven years since my last Confession." Here Étienne went quiet and the silence dragged on for many minutes. "This is the part," the priest said mildly from behind the grate, “where you confess your sins and receive your penance to ask for forgiveness. In case you had forgotten, my son."

Albiniţa, Basarabia (Kingdom of Romania) 3 April 1921 Ion had come to America because five sons were a boon but six became a burden when the sixth was…wrong. The community was too small, too close-knit, too claustrophobic to not notice when someone among them was more than what they seemed. And the community was far too religious and superstitious to not make an example of the newly-derelict pariah. It became obvious to the Sollomovici family (less of a family and more of a clan for their numbers) that Ion, gifted and cursed as he was, could not stay safely in Anenii Noi. But there was no money to be made in Chișinău

Moscow, Russia 9 March 1915 "I don't have to tell you, of course, that this is very important." "I understand, sir." "Do you, Braginskiy? Because this is General Selivanov who demanded your expertise." Ivan eyed his commanding officer in his peripheral, smiling inoffensively as the older man grimaced in distaste. Captain Onisim Novikov was a superstitious man of the particularly pernicious variety, beyond even what was normal for their most rural and uneducated of comrades. Talk of the inexplicable and perceivedly unnatural made Novikov vastly uncomfortable; being put into direct contact with it made him break into hives. "Sir," he repea