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Description
Illustration of an AU fic by mithrigil on Livejournal: All The Rest Have Thirty-One

DO NOT FULLVIEW GO READ THE FIIIIIC THIS IS SPOILERS THIS IS SPOILERS I REPEAT THIS IS SPOILERS

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The smoke and mustard gas clear around a picture. The background is the sky and the sea, with the shadows of planes and gulls darting across. A trail of old stone leads down and then up and then down again, which means it’s down, always down, through the old earthen ruins of something more than stone and less than sand. Everything’s red and grey and gold, gold where the plants are dead. There’s a crater where the grenade ricocheted to, where parts of the walls came down. There aren’t any soldiers here, not anymore, just. Just Italy and Greece. And it turns out that three of the new bullet holes are in Greece’s chest and belly, and the fourth is in his thigh. He’s still holding the gun and the pin from the grenade, a smear of silver in the blood that’s haloing him like in the really old art before perspective and composition, where people who are more important than everyone else are just painted larger and brighter. The blood dapples Greece’s skin like all his moles and scars and curls and beautiful things, and his eyes are open. And then Italy blinks back tears and the body itself is gone, leaving only the blood.

Photoshop CS2, Hetalia (c) Hidekaz

Closeups (warning big files) : [link] [link] [link]

Description
Illustration of an AU fic by mithrigil on Livejournal: All The Rest Have Thirty-One

DO NOT FULLVIEW GO READ THE FIIIIIC THIS IS SPOILERS THIS IS SPOILERS I REPEAT THIS IS SPOILERS

|
|
|
|
|
|
V

The smoke and mustard gas clear around a picture. The background is the sky and the sea, with the shadows of planes and gulls darting across. A trail of old stone leads down and then up and then down again, which means it’s down, always down, through the old earthen ruins of something more than stone and less than sand. Everything’s red and grey and gold, gold where the plants are dead. There’s a crater where the grenade ricocheted to, where parts of the walls came down. There aren’t any soldiers here, not anymore, just. Just Italy and Greece. And it turns out that three of the new bullet holes are in Greece’s chest and belly, and the fourth is in his thigh. He’s still holding the gun and the pin from the grenade, a smear of silver in the blood that’s haloing him like in the really old art before perspective and composition, where people who are more important than everyone else are just painted larger and brighter. The blood dapples Greece’s skin like all his moles and scars and curls and beautiful things, and his eyes are open. And then Italy blinks back tears and the body itself is gone, leaving only the blood.

Photoshop CS2, Hetalia (c) Hidekaz

Closeups (warning big files) : [link] [link] [link]