Blueprint For Rabbit Hutch A wild fiction appears!

Title: flying boats.
Fandom: Latin Hetalia.
Characters: Peru / Chile.
Rating: Suitable for all .
Warnings: SCENARIOS FTW. And it is beteado: 'D;
Comments: A gift of No! Christmas exclusively written for kororo_minamoto , because I want to show how much we appreciate her and how important they are for my ideals we share. This fic is based on a text that she read while I was traveling and could only see later: Goodbye Huascar. Hope you like it, Natto!



's eight in the morning in Talcahuano, with only eight degrees and who knows how much of rainfall, moisture, forming a thick layer on the environment. It is hardly fall and the port is turned into a damp and overcast freezer. Peru

puts his hands to his mouth and blows , watching as the vapor dissipates front of his nose. watching the landscape so surreal gray appears before his eyes, lulled by the gentle cry of a few gentle waves.

The water looks so beautiful, reflecting the gray clouds. Beside

Chile remains silent, staring. Pale, pink nose and hands in his pockets, it seemsof having the head at a million miles away away from that port Talcahuano. Away from the splendid ship floating, lifeless, in the eyes of both.

"I guess you're ready," Michael asks him in a very soft voice, not to kill the atmosphere. Not detract from the view of the Huascar, and the fleet that surrounds it: Peruvian and Chilean boats alike, waiting for the order of their armies, their respective nations. The expectation present in the eyes of all people around the pier. Manuel

only nods, his eyes still on the horizon loss.

Miguel feels anger to see it.

- Manuel -called, his voice takes the edge of the blame. Stands in front of him and, in arrEbates of the moment, grabs his face with his hands-Manuel, look at me and see me now .

(Before, at times really bad, Miguel could not look at without hearing gunshots imaginary non-existent without smell gunpowder. I could not look at him without feeling a toxic soup and burning in the bowels, without feeling the fervor of hatred.

Then just felt exhausted.)

"This is our only chance," he says, as firmly as possible, without taking his eyes off him. Now take off that stupid shell and demonstrates that as much as I want it, dammit.

If there is something that has always hated Peru, are the silences of Chile. The blank face and the words that never leave their lips. Miguel is a or trumpets.
Manuel feels that his chest hollow, that guilt is not guilt, but tired. That there are two seniors defeated and lost, stuck in the bodies of two teenagers.

Miguel feels that hatred is not hatred, resentment no longer permeates the report. But history is history and absolutely unforgettable. None known to forget-


(Remember when your smile used to be my

?) But both know how to learn from their mistakes.
-
I
murmurs Manuel, to the sound of trumpets, with the knot of anxiety always present in the throat.

I finish this.

"Listen, then. "Michael said hacia in front, to where they begin to hear the first cannon.

Huáscar begins to sink, taking the deepest of sea a bit of each.


you hear a shot to be the last.
(The feeling of loss is

there, deep and profound. Manuel does not know whether to feel relieved or concerns. I feel
both drowning. Think take Miguel's hand, but do not feel the right nor the courage to do it. Neither has the will to show how much she is affecting the situation.)
On the horizon, including smoke and corvettes, including wind and gray clouds, sinking the Huascar. Sinks with v