Countryhumans Oneshots :D

China x North Korea [Angel AU]

Nervously, I wipe the palms of my hands on my loose white sweatpants. I can do this. Taking a deep, bracing breath, I tightly tuck my slate-coloured wings to my side, streamlining the feathers and forming an aerodynamic shield around myself. And then I jump, dissolving the barrier between our world and the human's with just a touch of grace.

I fall faster than my brain can keep track of, spinning like a drill ready to impale itself in the Earth's crust. Colours blur in my peripheral, switching from pure, brilliant blue to deep, vivid green and then back again. Wind whips past my form like a thousand sharp knives, tugging at my braid and buffeting my wings. I struggle to keep them tucked around myself in a smooth shell, but the threat of a sprained wing spurs me on.

After what feels like an eternity, my grace kicks in and slows my descent until I can safely unfurl my wings. I spread them out to slow my fall, but the wind catches at them weird and I still land in a tumble of feathers. Luckily, I end up in a small grassy clearing within the forest and the soft green tufts cushion me nicely. The whole world spins, slipping in and out of focus, so I allow myself a few moments to lay in the quiet clearing and catch my breath. A bright, cloudless sky comes into focus first, and then the sun, which is nestled brightly in the treetops. Birdsong fills the air, underlaid with the buzzing of various insects. Butterflies and bright, fluffy bumblebees flit around the clearing, and I track their graceful forms until I feel well enough to stand.

Struggling to my feet, I let my wings flare out to counterbalance the shaky movement. Once I'm settled, I spin in a slow circle, taking in ancient trees and their towering boughs, as well as the small bushes of undergrowth that weave through the forest floor. A large, mossy rock catches my gaze and I tilt my head curiously. The deep grey of the stone is out of place in the brown-green tones of the forest, and as I take a step closer I realise that there are a few words inscribed. Their worn forms don't relinquish any secrets, but with a start I recognise the stone as an old, abandoned trail marker: one that indicates an overgrown path right to our waterfall.

Smiling softly to myself in victory, I slip out of the clearing and into the dense forest. Leafy, spring-green undergrowth drags its fingers against my legs, snagging on a few feathers before reluctantly letting me pass. It'd be faster and easier to fly, but the pull of Earth is difficult even for full-fledged angels. Our wings don't fully develop until 16, meaning I have a few more years to go before I can even last over five minutes in the air here.

The ghost trail I follow is faint, more of a new-green scar in the forest than an actual path, but I still make my way easily once I get into the rhythm of slipping by clinging leaves and creeping tendrils. A few birds escort me, flitting from branch to branch while chirping softly. I coo in response to a few of their distracted musings, but otherwise they keep their conversation light and to themselves. Nature is doing wonders for my mood, so I really hope North is feeling better when I find him. The angel is a year younger than me, but nearly just as tall. We've been friends forever and, unfortunately, that also means he has to deal with the less pleasant angels in my age group. Namely, America, who's been prejudiced from the start, but it's gotten worse these past few years. The angel's gotten it into his head that South shouldn't associate with her brother, even though I know the twins really do love each other—

The sound of tumbling water seeps into my train of thought until I finally register the noise as an indication of a nearby water source. My secondary feathers fluff up in excitement: I'm close. Everything grows a bit sparser as I start heading towards the bank of what I know is a small river. It's more of a large stream, honestly, but it gets full enough to ward off water-sensitive undergrowth and leave a decent buffer of sandy earth. I shadow the bank as I walk, soft silt shifting under my sneakers.

As I move closer, the air becomes more humid and the thundering of the waterfall echoes off nearby trees. Large, moss-slick rocks firmly rooted in the riverbed are the only things that dare exist so close to the base of the rumbling cascade, and I run my fingers along the edges of a few as I stop to stand in the mist clouding the entrance to the small cave.