Porcelain Face

~2~

A songbird's tune echoed across the courtyard, and a light breeze played with the tree's delicate leaves.

Natalya inhaled the soft scent of a blossoming flower, and her lips twitched, her Cheshire Cat grin returning.

Last night, Brother had attempted to hit her with his pipe just as the girl predicted, but she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

She spent the night in a nearby park and nearly froze to death. But it was worth it. If it meant she could throw out the old, and bring in the new, it will all be worth it.

It was a gorgeous morning, colors of all hues dancing upon her eyes, like a painting on display. The damp dew drops clinging to blades of grass, the baby blue sky with a sea of puffy white clouds, and the daisies blooming from the cracks in the old mossy stone that was laid upon the court.

The Belarusian giggled, and stood on one foot, and began to twirl. Her wavy blue maid's dress swirled like a raging sea around her body, and her hair fluttered about freely.

She felt like a princess, like from the fairytale books she used to read when she was little, or how brother had called her one such a long long time ago.

But she wasn't his princess anymore. Her prince was the American man who she was patiently waiting for here on a perfect spring morning.

He had crowded her thoughts throughout the whole frigid night, setting her heart aflame. It had been a long time since she felt that hope and love in her heart. It was so strong, and no one could distinguish the flames.

Suddenly, she saw a crowd of people enter the courtyard, chatter filling the once quiet atmosphere. In the sea of nations, she saw her brother. She saw his pastel scarf flow behind him, a single, but messy, stitch across the surface of it.

She had forgotten that his scarf had been ripped. But it no longer mattered to her, just like she didn't matter to brother anymore.

"Hey! I swear to god! You cheated!" She heard a voice scream, cutting through the chatter like a knife through butter.

She snapped her head toward the noise, and saw two men emerge from the crowd. She watched a curl swing from side to side on one of their heads, and a cowlick bounce up and down on the other.

"I did not cheat!" the familiar voice of the American responded. Canada bit his lip and rolled his eyes.

In each of the boy's hands was a strange shaped object, spinning constantly, the center of it gripped between their fingers. America's object was painted to look like the American flag, while Canada's was painted like his national flag.

"You sure did! You spun yours after mine! We were supposed to spin our fidget spinners at the same time!" Canada snapped, halting his object to a stop with his finger. America did the same.

"Don't point fingers Mattie. You're just jealous because my fidget spinner is cooler!" The American laughed.

Canada turned a bright red, and looked like he wanted to maul him alive.

Suddenly, she saw the British man, known as Arthur, glare at them from across the courtyard.

"What are you boys doing!?" England yelled to them, pushing through the crowd of chattering people.

"We're having a fidget spinner race. Whichever one spins the longest wins," Alfred explained, showing his spinner to the Brit.

"How ridiculous and childish of you. I excepted more out of you two boys. Instead of filling out paperwork with the free time you have, you waste it with this nonsense! I thought I raised you two better than that!" England exclaimed, reaching over to snatch America's fidget spinner. He plucked it from his hand, and chucked it to the ground in disgust.