Post by prussia on Feb 12, 2011 5:36:57 GMT
1741
The warmth of the day had developed a cold bite to it by the late afternoon but the redness to Gilbert's nose and cheeks only added to his cheerful demeanor. His crooked grin, which had plagued him since news of the armistice had reached his ears, went unchanged. Tired as he was, the flush from a year's worth of excitement had yet to desert him.
Walking at a leisurely pace, the idle and quiet moment seemed almost dreamlike compared to the earlier rushes when the shouts echoed and the cannon fire roared, when there was nothing to feel but the pounding of his own heart in excited anticipation, and there was nothing to see but smoke, mud, and bodies. The bodies had long since been removed, since the last battle here being less than recent, but the memories remained. Gilbert meandered around the slashed earth, filled with muddy holes and gashes across fields of grass. The grass was higher than he remembered and he could almost taste the blood and smoke in his mouth. Yet the lingering feelings he had had after the battles, namely from ones he had won, gave him an added strength to his step.
With his head held high and words of his King fresh in his ears, Gilbert felt assured that this armistice would prove fruitful. They had fought hard--his soldiers, his king, himself. The war had been hard on all of them. He could even sense the weakening strength in Austria, in that Roderich Edelstein. There hadn't been much time for talking then, when their guns and swords were at the ready or striking for the kill. That's where the fun was, after all: in the fight, followed by the win. It was all Gilbert ever dreamed of, once King Fritz had reminded him of them. Talking tended to make a mess of things, and his King agreed that action was better than words.
Surprisingly, annoyingly, King Fritz hadn't come along on this short trip to meet their opponent. It was just to be the two countries having a heart-to-heart, or however King Fritz wanted to phrase it, at the beginning of their armistice. Only with a light sword strapped to his hip, Gilbert felt almost fidgety from being so poorly armed. But if he had brought his infantry or his cavalry, the temptation to use them at any sign of weakness might prove too great, and so he had left them behind. Not that he was afraid of Roderich, but old habits—such as a year’s worth of war!—were hard to break.
Out in the open, alone, just as he had written he would be, Gilbert took a seat amongst a gathering of oversized rocks. The woods were too far off to hide anyone in—and he was insistant that he was the better shot, anyways, and so need not worry of being shot in the back. The yellow grass was high enough to brush up along the tops of his black boots and the faint wind continued to stir up his white hair underneath his black, velvet hat. His Prussian blue jacket fit him comfortably but he took a moment to pull it down, shift his belt, and adjust the sword at his hip. First impressions were important, after all, and this would be Austria's first impression of him outside the battlefield.
For all Gilbert cared, showing up covered in mud would have worked just as well for either one of them. So long as Roderich was agreeable and gave the part of Silesia a most deserving Gilbert, who had proved his battle prowess so magnificently, they could forget about first impressions. Besides, all Gilbert wanted—and all his King wanted—was Silesia. It was nothing personal against Roderich. There was no reason why there should be any ill will between them in the aftermath when all was said, done, and signed!
A/N: I struggled a bit figuring out how to set this up and about scenery, so hopefully this is a decent start and not just ramblingsof a crazy person!
The warmth of the day had developed a cold bite to it by the late afternoon but the redness to Gilbert's nose and cheeks only added to his cheerful demeanor. His crooked grin, which had plagued him since news of the armistice had reached his ears, went unchanged. Tired as he was, the flush from a year's worth of excitement had yet to desert him.
Walking at a leisurely pace, the idle and quiet moment seemed almost dreamlike compared to the earlier rushes when the shouts echoed and the cannon fire roared, when there was nothing to feel but the pounding of his own heart in excited anticipation, and there was nothing to see but smoke, mud, and bodies. The bodies had long since been removed, since the last battle here being less than recent, but the memories remained. Gilbert meandered around the slashed earth, filled with muddy holes and gashes across fields of grass. The grass was higher than he remembered and he could almost taste the blood and smoke in his mouth. Yet the lingering feelings he had had after the battles, namely from ones he had won, gave him an added strength to his step.
With his head held high and words of his King fresh in his ears, Gilbert felt assured that this armistice would prove fruitful. They had fought hard--his soldiers, his king, himself. The war had been hard on all of them. He could even sense the weakening strength in Austria, in that Roderich Edelstein. There hadn't been much time for talking then, when their guns and swords were at the ready or striking for the kill. That's where the fun was, after all: in the fight, followed by the win. It was all Gilbert ever dreamed of, once King Fritz had reminded him of them. Talking tended to make a mess of things, and his King agreed that action was better than words.
Surprisingly, annoyingly, King Fritz hadn't come along on this short trip to meet their opponent. It was just to be the two countries having a heart-to-heart, or however King Fritz wanted to phrase it, at the beginning of their armistice. Only with a light sword strapped to his hip, Gilbert felt almost fidgety from being so poorly armed. But if he had brought his infantry or his cavalry, the temptation to use them at any sign of weakness might prove too great, and so he had left them behind. Not that he was afraid of Roderich, but old habits—such as a year’s worth of war!—were hard to break.
Out in the open, alone, just as he had written he would be, Gilbert took a seat amongst a gathering of oversized rocks. The woods were too far off to hide anyone in—and he was insistant that he was the better shot, anyways, and so need not worry of being shot in the back. The yellow grass was high enough to brush up along the tops of his black boots and the faint wind continued to stir up his white hair underneath his black, velvet hat. His Prussian blue jacket fit him comfortably but he took a moment to pull it down, shift his belt, and adjust the sword at his hip. First impressions were important, after all, and this would be Austria's first impression of him outside the battlefield.
For all Gilbert cared, showing up covered in mud would have worked just as well for either one of them. So long as Roderich was agreeable and gave the part of Silesia a most deserving Gilbert, who had proved his battle prowess so magnificently, they could forget about first impressions. Besides, all Gilbert wanted—and all his King wanted—was Silesia. It was nothing personal against Roderich. There was no reason why there should be any ill will between them in the aftermath when all was said, done, and signed!
__________
A/N: I struggled a bit figuring out how to set this up and about scenery, so hopefully this is a decent start and not just ramblings