Post by Elena Jones on Jan 23, 2012 3:25:36 GMT -5
Vi, welcome!!! ;D Look, new fic!!! You can sorta blame Weaver for this one. XD her oc used to claim he was going to make "little girl lasagna" out of Angel. I started thinking, and thus, this happened. ^^;; yeah..
Warning: Character Death, Cannibalism
Disclaimer: I don't own Romano or Vene. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. I also don't own Florence/the kid/the boy. Weaver owns him
Anyway, first time writing something even sorta dark, so...let's see how this goes, si?
~~~~~~
The new representation of Florence hid, crouching among the bushes of the well kept house where the three representations of Italia lived. He was just hanging around with them today. No other reason. Not like he cared about them. They were just three wimpy kids who did nothing but eat pasta and sleep.
“Vi, there you are.” A woman almost sang above him. He looked up to see Angelica, Sicily, standing over him. “I was wondering where you went.”
The boy smiled up at her, blue eyes reflecting the sun. “Ciao Angelica.” he stood up and hugged her, laughing. “You found me!” he told the Sicilian, smiling up at her. She smiled back, but something was off about it. He gave her an odd look, confused as to why the Sicilian was smiling so…wrongly.
“Hey, Angelica.” she heard Romano, southern Italy, call from inside. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Si, I did Romano.” she replied, smile now gone as she looked down at the boy. He frowned as unwrapped his arms. At this, the smile returned and she grabbed his arm, dragging him inside.
In the kitchen, Romano stood, waiting for his sister. He saw her come in with the new Florence. His gaze hardened looking as the other boy. “Angelica, Veneziao and I have to go into the office. We’ll be home around dinner time.”
Angelica nodded. “Vi, don’t worry! Dinner will be done by the time you two return.” she said cheerfully. The man nodded, looked between Angelica and the boy, and walked off.
As soon as the door closed, Angelica turned to the kid. “Vi, would you like to help me? I’m making lasagna.” she told him. He nodded, looking excited. That smile appeared on her face. “Vi, grazie. What a wonderful ragazzo.” she said, ruffling his hair and pulling out the meat cleaver from the knife rack. “Now, stand still.”
The boy’s blue eyes went wide with fear as he saw the cleaver. “W-W-what are you doing?” he asked, moving back, away from the older woman.
“What do you think?” she smirked, looking over him. “I’m making my little-boy lasagna. I have my pasta, and my sauce. My cheeses, now.” she moved closer to him. “I just need the little boy.” By now he was against the wall of the room, with the Sicilian hovering over him. “And I think you’re perfect.”
The boy felt a blinding pain in his shoulder, and looked to see the cleaver now lodged in him. He cast a look up at the woman over him. He wished she had looked insane or something. But she didn’t. She was just looking at him, a stupid smirk on her face. “Vi, tempo per morire Firenze.”(1) the last word was spat at him.
Angelica pulled the blade out, frowning. “Didn’t go all the way through.” she pouted. “I guess I’ll have to try again.”
“No!” The boy pushed forward, knocking her onto the floor, and running out of the room. He tried the front door, only to find it unable to open. “Merda” he mumbled, hearing the other moving in the kitchen.
Florence ran to the second floor, looking for a hiding spot. He could hear Sicily downstairs. He chose a random door and opened it. A closet. He scrambled up to the top shelf and closed the door, hiding in the shadows.
He could feel his breath stop as he heard footsteps in the hallway. “Vi, where are you?” she asked sweetly. “Do you not want to help me anymore?” a door opened, then closed. Florence waited a few moments before quickly scrambling down and out the door, hoping she had gone into another room.
“There you are~.” Angelica whispered in his ear. The boy jumped into the air, before bolting back down the stairs. Angel scowled and followed him.
He ran into the dining room, hoping there was some place to hide. He stopped for a moment, which proved to be his mistake as a hand grabbed his hair and pushed him to the floor. His head was pulled back, and blue eyes met brown. “Vi, grazie Firenze for helping me.” Angelica said. The boy felt a pain across his throat, then nothing as he slumped forward, his life essence draining out of him.
Angelica knelt next to the now dead boy and frowned. “Vi, bleeding all over my new shoes too.”
By the time Veneziano and Romano returned, the house was in perfect order, as though nothing had happened.
Veneziano smiled as he sat down at the table. “Ve, Angel, this looks wonderful! You did this all yourself?”
Angel shook her head no. “Firenze helped me.” she explained, cutting a piece of the pasta dish and giving it to him.
“He did? Ve, what a nice boy.” the middle child remarked, digging into his portion as his sister gave Romano.
The oldest Italian tried the dish. “Not bad.” he admitted. Angelica smiled, getting herself some. She tried it also.
“Vi, some of the best, if I do say so myself.” she smiled. “And si, he is such a nice boy.” There was silence as the three Italians finished all the pasta in front of them.
“Ve, Angel, that was delizioso!” Veneizao exclaimed. “Can you make it again sometime?”
Angelica nodded, smiling at her brother. “Si, of course I can.”
~~~
(1) Time to die Florence.
_________________
For anyone who doesn't know, the boy is from Weaver's new fic, "There can only be one."
Oh yeah, and Romano and Vene know what's in the lasagna. 
Warning: Character Death, Cannibalism
Disclaimer: I don't own Romano or Vene. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. I also don't own Florence/the kid/the boy. Weaver owns him
Anyway, first time writing something even sorta dark, so...let's see how this goes, si?
~~~~~~
The new representation of Florence hid, crouching among the bushes of the well kept house where the three representations of Italia lived. He was just hanging around with them today. No other reason. Not like he cared about them. They were just three wimpy kids who did nothing but eat pasta and sleep.
“Vi, there you are.” A woman almost sang above him. He looked up to see Angelica, Sicily, standing over him. “I was wondering where you went.”
The boy smiled up at her, blue eyes reflecting the sun. “Ciao Angelica.” he stood up and hugged her, laughing. “You found me!” he told the Sicilian, smiling up at her. She smiled back, but something was off about it. He gave her an odd look, confused as to why the Sicilian was smiling so…wrongly.
“Hey, Angelica.” she heard Romano, southern Italy, call from inside. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Si, I did Romano.” she replied, smile now gone as she looked down at the boy. He frowned as unwrapped his arms. At this, the smile returned and she grabbed his arm, dragging him inside.
In the kitchen, Romano stood, waiting for his sister. He saw her come in with the new Florence. His gaze hardened looking as the other boy. “Angelica, Veneziao and I have to go into the office. We’ll be home around dinner time.”
Angelica nodded. “Vi, don’t worry! Dinner will be done by the time you two return.” she said cheerfully. The man nodded, looked between Angelica and the boy, and walked off.
As soon as the door closed, Angelica turned to the kid. “Vi, would you like to help me? I’m making lasagna.” she told him. He nodded, looking excited. That smile appeared on her face. “Vi, grazie. What a wonderful ragazzo.” she said, ruffling his hair and pulling out the meat cleaver from the knife rack. “Now, stand still.”
The boy’s blue eyes went wide with fear as he saw the cleaver. “W-W-what are you doing?” he asked, moving back, away from the older woman.
“What do you think?” she smirked, looking over him. “I’m making my little-boy lasagna. I have my pasta, and my sauce. My cheeses, now.” she moved closer to him. “I just need the little boy.” By now he was against the wall of the room, with the Sicilian hovering over him. “And I think you’re perfect.”
The boy felt a blinding pain in his shoulder, and looked to see the cleaver now lodged in him. He cast a look up at the woman over him. He wished she had looked insane or something. But she didn’t. She was just looking at him, a stupid smirk on her face. “Vi, tempo per morire Firenze.”(1) the last word was spat at him.
Angelica pulled the blade out, frowning. “Didn’t go all the way through.” she pouted. “I guess I’ll have to try again.”
“No!” The boy pushed forward, knocking her onto the floor, and running out of the room. He tried the front door, only to find it unable to open. “Merda” he mumbled, hearing the other moving in the kitchen.
Florence ran to the second floor, looking for a hiding spot. He could hear Sicily downstairs. He chose a random door and opened it. A closet. He scrambled up to the top shelf and closed the door, hiding in the shadows.
He could feel his breath stop as he heard footsteps in the hallway. “Vi, where are you?” she asked sweetly. “Do you not want to help me anymore?” a door opened, then closed. Florence waited a few moments before quickly scrambling down and out the door, hoping she had gone into another room.
“There you are~.” Angelica whispered in his ear. The boy jumped into the air, before bolting back down the stairs. Angel scowled and followed him.
He ran into the dining room, hoping there was some place to hide. He stopped for a moment, which proved to be his mistake as a hand grabbed his hair and pushed him to the floor. His head was pulled back, and blue eyes met brown. “Vi, grazie Firenze for helping me.” Angelica said. The boy felt a pain across his throat, then nothing as he slumped forward, his life essence draining out of him.
Angelica knelt next to the now dead boy and frowned. “Vi, bleeding all over my new shoes too.”
****
By the time Veneziano and Romano returned, the house was in perfect order, as though nothing had happened.
Veneziano smiled as he sat down at the table. “Ve, Angel, this looks wonderful! You did this all yourself?”
Angel shook her head no. “Firenze helped me.” she explained, cutting a piece of the pasta dish and giving it to him.
“He did? Ve, what a nice boy.” the middle child remarked, digging into his portion as his sister gave Romano.
The oldest Italian tried the dish. “Not bad.” he admitted. Angelica smiled, getting herself some. She tried it also.
“Vi, some of the best, if I do say so myself.” she smiled. “And si, he is such a nice boy.” There was silence as the three Italians finished all the pasta in front of them.
“Ve, Angel, that was delizioso!” Veneizao exclaimed. “Can you make it again sometime?”
Angelica nodded, smiling at her brother. “Si, of course I can.”
~~~
(1) Time to die Florence.
_________________
For anyone who doesn't know, the boy is from Weaver's new fic, "There can only be one."
