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Post by Russia on Aug 19, 2010 1:55:40 GMT -5
11th of March, 1990
There was a bitter chill in the air this fateful morning, which did nothing to help lift Russia’s increasingly darkening mood. His world was going to hell in a hand basket, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. As the strife within the Soviet Union increased, the tired blonde’s health and influence decreased. He had been at the top of the metaphorical hill not so long ago, and now he found himself tumbling down towards complete chaos and destruction. His government was coming apart at the seams and for once in his reasonably long life, the mentally unstable Russian found himself worried about the concept of a possible death.
It was not a topic he wanted to let his mind wander off to, but at the same time it was hard to not think about. Nations didn’t die the same way normal people did, but that did not make them invincible gods, no matter what some of them might claim. If his government were to completely collapse, there could be a very real chance that he might not pull through. It was not however written in stone, and there was always the chance that a nation as powerful and influential as he had recently been, would be able to survive. But he would probably never again attain the power he had once had.
Wearily, the disheartened nation set the bottle of vodka down on the antique dinning room table. He had been sitting there for a couple hours now, just drinking his way through the bottle and staring out the partially opened window. It was all he really could do, being as sick as he was. His body ached and his limbs felt ridiculously heavy, which ruled out his recently acquired favorite activity of pacing in front of the fireplace. It was just as well for Ivan, who may have felt chilly, but in reality was burning with fever. All the sick Soviet country wanted to do was sleep, but the pain and discomfort from his illness refused to allow that. So not for the first time, he resorted to the all comforting powers of hard liquor. Though it did little to help with the sickness itself, it did make things more bearable, and it had the added benefit of muddling his mind so that thoughts about his current predicament became fuzzy and easily pushed aside.
Slumping forward, the large nation rested his face on the cool surface of the table, while keeping a grip on the vodka with his left hand. Trying to ignore the mocking sound of the joyful springtime birds out the window, Ivan reflected on how this whole mess was all America’s fault. It was because of Alfred that his economy was suffering, that his people were losing faith in his government. If Alfred had not been so magnificent at being a rival in the arms race, then he would have had the money he needed to make his economy better. He could have shifted at least a little of his focus away from the need for weapons and more onto the needs of the state. But thanks to America being so disagreeable, he hadn‘t been able to do that. It was a matter of protection, if he was off trying to better his economy then he would have been helpless to defend himself when America turned hostile. No. He had to keep pace with his blue-eyed enemy there.
At the moment, Ivan was in a mood where he figured all the problems of the world could somehow be linked to America. Even if he himself wasn’t entirely sure as to the connection in some cases. Even in a sickened state, thinking about the overly cocky yank sent a chill of discontentment through Russia. There was no doubt in his mind that the American was insanely happy right now, knowing his enemy was so ill and getting worse and worse. Russia only hoped that in his celebration, Alfred choked on one of the hamburgers he loved so much.
Of course Gorbachev was trying to do something about the severe stagnation that was gripping Ivan’s lands, but his policies had yet to actually do much in the ways of help. If anything Ivan thought his dear leader was a bit unhinged for being so bold as to unleash a policy like glasnost. Allowing his people to start whining and complaining about anything they wanted was not a good idea by Ivan’s reasoning. When you suddenly let common people have voice, they tended to use those voices to complain about the country and the way it was ran. Now instead of being good little citizens and suffering in silence - which Ivan would have preferred- they were daring to open their mouths, even going so far as to complain about Gorbachev himself for lack of ability to snap his fingers and make everything better. As fond as the tall blonde nation was of his countrymen, their persistent whining and complaining about the government was giving him such a headache.
The situation with the non-Russian components of the Soviet Union was getting even worse. Thanks to the recent freedom of speech, nationalist movements were really starting to threaten the Union. Russia really hoped that his boss would be able to crack down and do something about them before it was too late. It was particularly getting bad in the Baltic regions, a fact that greatly alarmed Ivan, since he was determined to hold onto them with an iron grip. In particular, Lithuania, who he was determined to hold onto forever.
Sudden thoughts of his Baltic servants brought up questions as to where exactly they had ran off to today. Thinking about it, he had not seen Lithuania at all this morning, nor either of the other two for that matter. Where could they have gone? They still had chores to complete. A sound of footsteps traveling through the adjacent room drew his attention, and he lifted his head from the table, hopeful that he would have an answer to the question of his missing Baltics.
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Post by Lithuania on Aug 19, 2010 17:59:39 GMT -5
Freedom.
The concept of it was terrifying, intoxicating and compelling. It had started out as a vague, wistful longing, the same one he'd had for hundreds of years. But lately, it had become an obsession, a desperate, uncontrollable desire which haunted him, kept him up at night and caused him to clench his teeth at the sound of Ivan's soft, lilting voice.
Within his borders, the desperate, universal clamour for Lithuanian independence was growing louder and louder, his people uniting in one voice and all but screaming at him that now was finally the time to break away. And although, as Toris, he might have been in love with Ivan...as Lithuania, he had grown to utterly despise Russia. Unable to reconcile his feelings for the other man with the uncontrollable need to get up and leave, he had been wandering about in a daze, trying to avoid the sight of his blonde lover, trying not to look him in the eye or catch a glimpse of how deathly pale he'd become.
Ivan was growing weaker and weaker, sick to the point where Toris felt his heart would break. But the nature of his existence meant that his spirit was inexorably bound to that of his people, that his own emotions were mixed up with the feelings of his people. They were willing to die for this, were willing to do anything in order to break free of Russian rule, and this overwhelming, united sentiment made Toris feel stronger and stronger, the nationalistic fervour within his borders giving him a heady sensation of power that he hadn't felt in a long time.
It was too confusing, too terrifying. Part of him wanted to kick Ivan while he was down, and part of him...the part of him that was Toris...wanted to take him in his arms and stroke his hair and tell him that everything was going to be fine, that he would never leave him.
Passing the dining room, he glanced through the ajar door to see the violet eyed man slumped at the table, half-downed vodka bottle at his side. He sighed, half-sorrowful, half-exasperated, and was about to move on, when the Russian lifted his head from the table. Two bloodshot eyes framed in that innocent, childish face looked at him and the other man seemed so lost that he felt a surge of guilt. Because Toris knew that he was going to betray him, in the worst possible way, and that it was only a matter of time.
"You drink too much, Vanya," the brunette said flatly as he entered the room. "It's not helping matters any."
He looked down at the other man's flushed brow and put a cool hand to his head. "You're really sick," he said softly. And it hurt, and he wished he could drown out the voice in his head that was screaming at him to turn around and walk out and never come back. Because, with Russia in such a state, it would be so, so easy.
"It's all falling apart, isn't it?"
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Post by Russia on Aug 20, 2010 4:31:59 GMT -5
No sooner had he looked up, when his eyes were greeted with the sight of his favorite servant. So they were still wandering about the house somewhere. At least, one of them was, anyways. The brunette’s presence was a comfort right now, because it meant that he was not off listening to the awful words of the nationalists that were springing up within his borders. Ivan had no idea as to how Toris truly felt about the Soviet government and communism on the whole, but he knew that if nothing else, his green-eyed subordinate was loyal to him. Lithuania would never abandon him, no matter how much noise his people raised in hopes of freedom.
"You drink too much, Vanya,"
His Lithuanian lover accused, entering the room. Ivan’s eyes went to the bottle of white spirits briefly, almost as though he were debating the issue. In truth however, he thought Toris was being silly with such a statement. He didn’t drink too much. He drank just enough. And didn’t Toris understand that alcohol was good for any and all illnesses? Ivan was sure it had plenty of healing properties.
“Нет. Я не алик." The pale Russian assured his Baltic companion. “And it does help. I’m sure after I finish all of this I’ll feel much better.” He shivered slightly as Toris placed a cold hand to his head. From the feel of the other man’s cool flesh, Ivan was not the only one who could benefit from some time in front of the fire. Maybe later on tonight he would get the strength to pull himself out into the front room and collapse into his favorite chair in front of a comforting blaze. But at the moment, he wanted to avoid getting up and moving around if he could. He was physically exhausted, even though he had not done anything all day.
"You're really sick,"
A simple and very true fact, but one which Russia would rather not discuss. Being sick was rather disgraceful for a nation such as himself. It made him seem weak and pathetic, two traits which he never wanted to be associated with. He had ridiculously hoped that his servant nations would not notice his health deteriorating, or his government starting to lose power. It was a completely mental thing to hope for - being as how there was no way that they could turn a blind eye to such developments- but that had not stopped the deranged Russian. Deciding that there was no way he could believably convince Toris that he was fine and all was well, Ivan remained silent, opting instead to stare at the vodka bottle intently.
"It's all falling apart, isn't it?"
Again the urge to lie and say that all was well was almost overpowering. Ivan knew however, that Toris was a very smart man. He would never believe such obvious lies. Even someone like Feliks, whom Ivan had long ago written off as foolish and inattentive, would be able to see through that lie with ease. After a moment of silence, Ivan brought his violet eyes up to meet Lithuania’s. “Probably. My boss is trying to fix things you know.” He sighed and brought the vodka bottle back to his lips, taking a swig of the burning liquor before continuing. “Your people are out of control. You should silence them, Litva.” Not giving the brunette time to argue at first, Ivan immediately jumped into a different set of questions. “Tell me Toris. Why do bad things like this always happen? Why do things always have to change?” He stared at the other nation expectantly, as if Toris somehow had all the answers in the world. There was an almost innocent, childlike infliction to the questions he so naively asked.
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((Just to note, "алик" is a slang term for 'alcoholic.' Thought I would throw that out there in case it was one you didn't know.))[/color]
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Post by Lithuania on Aug 20, 2010 5:54:40 GMT -5
“Нет. Я не алик."
Lithuania simply shook his head as he watched the other man down more of the vile liquid.
When I get out of here...I never want to smell that stuff again... He found himself thinking irately, then a hand flew to his mouth because thoughts like that were becoming more and more frequent, more and more unbidden, and he knew that it was being caused by the unrest of his own people.
He continued to study the deathly ill nation, his lips pressed together so tightly that they were thin, white and bloodless, his green eyes wide. Something in his chest was so utterly torn, so confused and trapped and angry. His skin itched with the need for his own home, for the green of his own countryside, for his own faith and songs and language. Everything around him was so very Russian in nature, and Toris was coming to realise that his own identity was so much stronger and more enduring than the collapsing Soviet union.
“Your people are out of control. You should silence them, Litva.”
At this, Toris clenched his fists, an unwise retort on the tip of his tongue. But before he could speak, Ivan continued in such a lost, dejected voice that he couldn't bring himself to remain angry. With a sigh, he came behind his lover and put two thin arms about his neck, pressing his cold cheek to Ivan's flushed, feverish skin. The gesture was a weary one, and he was worried to find that the desire he'd always felt to take care of and comfort the other man was somehow lacking. Everything seemed so flat, so confining and oppressive, even his own feelings towards Ivan. He held on a little tighter, but still all he could feel was sorrow, and the faint beginnings of disgust.
"I don't know, my Vanya," he said, and he ran a hand through his flaxen hair and pressed his lips to the other man's neck and closed his eyes and tried to pretend that he wasn't planning on leaving him. "But things changed once before, and you were fine then. You'll be fine again. But it's not working any more, any of this. Maybe you should try listening to your own people, for a change."
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Post by Russia on Aug 21, 2010 5:08:37 GMT -5
The other nation’s cold embrace offered a small percent of comfort, but at the same time Ivan couldn’t help but feel there was something different about it. Something was off, and it frustrated the tall sadist that he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was. Instead of leaving him with a feeling that everything would work out fine in the end, the embrace felt more like a farewell. Ivan didn’t like the feeling much, and quickly tried to convince himself once more that Toris would not, and could not, leave. The sickness must have been what brought about the feeling of farewell instead. Reaching up he grabbed one of Lithuania’s chilly hands with his own, giving it a rough squeeze.
Toris for once proved to not have the answers that the unstable Russian was looking for. He closed his tired eyes momentarily, as Lithuania ran a hand through his hair and gave his neck a slight kiss. And then Toris was talking, but his assurance that Ivan would be fine again was far from a comfort. The tall blonde wished he had Lithuania’s optimism. Either the other man didn’t know the extent of the problems with the government, or he was ridiculously optimistic about the whole thing, to the point of foolishness.
“But it's not working any more, any of this. Maybe you should try listening to your own people, for a change."
Russia was not liking the way this conversation was heading, or the fact that Lithuania was giving him advice about dealing with his own people. Things had been working just fine until people started whining about the economy. Soviet citizens just didn’t seem to understand just how much they needed those weapons that had taken up a good portion of government spending. Those weapons were to protect them and keep everyone safe; without them, who knows what could have happened or who would have tried to invade. And so what if that lost money meant they had a little less on the tables to eat? They could still survive just fine. They were surely being unreasonable to complain. That was of course not even getting into the periphery nations and their wild, inappropriate ideas of freedom. These ideas needed smashed down, but at the moment Russia himself was far too ill to deal with insubordination from his servant nations.
“All my people want to do is whine and complain, Toris. What do I have to gain by listening to that? I think Gorbachev is wrong to have given them free speech. It didn’t help at all.” Ivan was actually fond of his current leader, despite his criticism. He was at least trying to help after all. Taking his thoughts away from his boss, the blonde country turned his attention back to his initial question concerning his Baltic servant’s whereabouts.
He released Toris’ hand, a flash of worry shadowing his features. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you around very much at all recently.” He couldn’t keep the disappointment from his voice. “I had the silliest idea that you might have ran off to listen to the words of those disagreeable nationalists.” For once, Ivan really hoped that Lithuania was ready to tell him just how crazy his idea was.
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Post by Lithuania on Aug 21, 2010 8:31:15 GMT -5
“All my people want to do is whine and complain, Toris. What do I have to gain by listening to that? I think Gorbachev is wrong to have given them free speech. It didn’t help at all.”
Typical Ivan. The brunette found himself stiffening awkwardly, even with his arms draped about the other man's shoulders. Closing his eyes, he started to pull away, even as Ivan released his hand. The blonde nation's grip was warm and clammy, and Toris found himself wincing and wiping and wiping his hand on his jeans. He didn't know when such things had started to bother him.
“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you around very much at all recently."
Lithuania swallowed hard at the forlorn expression on Ivan's face. Every time Russia fixed him with those wide, impossibly violet eyes, and that expression of boyish uncertainty, it made the prospect of what he was about to do all the harder. Because for the part of him that was restless and surging towards freedom, there was another, equal part of him that wanted to stay and nurse his lover back to health, to care for him as he'd always done.
“I had the silliest idea that you might have ran off to listen to the words of those disagreeable nationalists.”
His cheeks colouring slightly, Toris simply stared at Ivan for the longest time. He knew that the other man wanted reassurance, knew that the easiest thing to do right there and then would be to exclaim a horrified "Oh, but I would never leave you..." and smooth everything over long enough for him to sneak away that night when Ivan was deep in feverish sleep. But the idea of lying to him was abhorrent, and the idea of him waking up alone, confused and hurt and utterly betrayed, with no explanation, was so much more despicable. And serious, dilligent, conscientious Toris was determined to end it all with as much honour as he could.
He continued to study the fading nation in front of him, reaching out to cup his cheek in one hand, unable to keep his heart from pounding so loudly that it felt as though his chest would break, barely able to keep the tears from his eyes.
"The CCCP is falling apart," he said firmly. "We can't go on like this. None of us can, you're pulling us all into destruction. Vanya, I..." It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the other man that he loved him, but Lithuania couldn't see how that would possibly help things, so he choked it down, forced himself to deliver the facts with as much strength of conviction as possible, hardening his tone to the point where his own voice was distressingly unfamiliar. "You can't force me to stay here any more. You're not strong enough. And I have a duty to my people. They want freedom."
He withdrew his hand and tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spring from forest green eyes. "I need freedom."
And that voice in the back of his head was screaming that no, he needed Ivan, but he ignored it painfully. Because it didn't matter how desperate he was to fall into Ivan's arms, come Hell or high water, he was walking out of that front door today, and he wasn't looking back.
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Post by Russia on Aug 22, 2010 2:00:36 GMT -5
Toris’ silence at his statement was becoming more and more disconcerting with every second that ticked by. Ivan spared a glance at his once faithful Baltic, his violet eyes scanning the other man’s expression. He was waiting to hear the reassurance that his lover would not just run off and leave, now that things had taken such a turn for the worse. Toris would surely not abandon him now. And yet the other man’s lack of comforting words was starting to raise Russia’s anxiety, as was the color in Toris’ cheeks and the look on his somewhat effeminate features.
"The CCCP is falling apart, we can't go on like this. None of us can, you're pulling us all into destruction. Vanya, I..."
Those were some of the last words Ivan wanted to hear. They gave voice to many of the worries he had been trying so hard to avoid thinking about over the last few months. Of course, he did not view himself as the reason behind the failures of the SSSR. He was not leading the Soviet Union to destruction, and he was very much hurt that Toris would accuse him of such a thing. We’re all facing problems right now, why is it my fault? And they could go on in such a manner, and they would if Russia had any say in the matter. Which, being the lead Soviet nation, he thought he should have complete control over his subordinates’ lives. He was about to voice this when Lithuania continued on in a much firmer tone of voice. A tone that Ivan had not heard from him in a very, very long time.
"You can't force me to stay here any more. You're not strong enough. And I have a duty to my people. They want freedom."
This was too much. This was treachery on the deepest level that Ivan could imagine. Toris had been listening to his people, and the crazed, troublesome nationalist that were rising up within his boundaries. The deceptively sweet tempered brunette must have been plotting this for awhile now, planning on running off the moment Ivan was too sick to stop him. Leaving his blonde comrade to his fate, while Toris saved his own ass by cutting free of the whole thing. Though Ivan’s initial emotion was that of sadness, it was quickly being replaced by anger. Toris was being far too bold to assume that just because he was ill, Ivan was going to sit back and watch as his favorite subject walked out on him and broke all ties. His disobedient lover removed his hand from Ivan’s cheek, just as Russia himself was preparing to push Toris’ hand away. Despite what the Lithuanian liked to think, Ivan considered Toris’ main duty to be to him, not his people.
"I need freedom."
Russia could not have disagreed more with that. Gathering his strength, he rose wearily to his feet to confront Toris about these wild ideas of freedom
“You can’t leave Lithuania. I won’t allow it. If you are foolish enough to try, I’ll prove that even sick I am more than capable of keeping my subordinates in line.” Trying to look much healthier and more powerful than he currently felt, he gave the green-eyed Lithuanian a stern look. “None of this mess with the SSSR is my fault, Liet. This is complete treachery and I am shocked that you would turn on me like this.” Reaching out, the highly upset blonde rested a hand on Lithuania’s shoulder. “Stay. And get these thoughts out of your head. You know you can’t leave me like this.”
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Post by Lithuania on Aug 22, 2010 12:40:51 GMT -5
“You can’t leave Lithuania. I won’t allow it."
As Russia rose shakily to his feed, Toris clenched his fists and held his ground, not breaking eye contact with the other man. Of course Ivan was going to threaten him, the little Baltic was hardly surprised. What did surprise him, however, was the lack of fear that he felt. It was as though the rising tide of nationalism among his people was lending him a new strength and courage that had not been present within him for such a very long time.
“None of this mess with the SSSR is my fault, Liet. This is complete treachery and I am shocked that you would turn on me like this.”
But it's all your fault. Everything, all of it, the last hundred damn years and then some.
He stared up at the violet eyed man, so ill and frail looking despite his stature, and felt a weak grip on his shoulder and for a moment, he was sure that Russia was going to hit him.
“Stay. And get these thoughts out of your head. You know you can’t leave me like this.”
Lithuania winced at those words, which sounded almost like a plea. He was filled with the sudden, uncontrollable urge to throw his arms around the taller man, and bury his face in his scarf and tell him that of course he would stay, that everything would be alright, that he'd tuck him into bed and bring him soup and hold his hand while they rode out the worst of this together.
But he was set on this trajectory, bound by his duty to his people. And for so many years, he had been such a weak embodiment of his homeland, had lain down like a dog while his people suffered as a result, because he was too beaten and downtrodden to do anything else. And he couldn't do it any more. Not when he had a choice.
"I can," he said simply. "I will."
Reaching up, he removed Ivan's hand from his shoulder, prying his grip away gently and resisting the urge to intertwine his fingers with the other man's. There was a lump in his throat, and it was all he could do to keep his composure, to keep the spark of determination in his eyes. And he realised then, as he quietly struggled to breath with the crushing weight on his chest, that this was the hardest thing he could remember ever having to do.
"I'm a nation, Ivan," he said with a quiet intensity. "I exist for my people, not just for you. And maybe I didn't have a choice before, but I do now, and I'm choosing to walk out. For them."
He looked away, as the tears he was blinking back threatened to fall. Wiping at his eyes furiously with his sleeve, he took a deep breath and continued. "I don't want to be your enemy. I'll never be that. But I won't be your servant either."
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Post by Russia on Aug 24, 2010 3:46:30 GMT -5
"I can. I will."
Russia was just going to have to prove Lithuania wrong about that. He would keep the other nation at his house with force, now that Toris had decided to be so unreasonable. It was a pity, since Russia really did not feel like fighting with anyone at the moment, but if it couldn’t be avoided then he would just have to find the strength somehow.
Toris defiantly pushed Ivan’s hand off and proceeded to give the most nonsensical, disloyal explanation concerning his actions, that Ivan had ever heard. All this rubbish about existing for his people and actually having a choice in whether or not he was going to remain at Russia’s house. He must have beaten Toris a bit too severely last time the other had merited punishment, because now the once-shivering Baltic was speaking complete madness.
"I don't want to be your enemy. I'll never be that. But I won't be your servant either."
Was it really so bad to be Ivan’s servant? He treated his subordinates well, protecting them from outside influences and keeping them in line when they needed it. It was a beautiful relationship. Or so he thought. The Russian had given them so much already, including communism, which would have worked just fine if America hadn’t ruined it. And now his favorite servant was uprising against him, and unfairly blaming all the problems of the Soviet Union on him, and worst of all, trying to leave him. Caught up in his own delusions of unfair betrayal, Russia failed to notice the hurt look on Lithuania’s face. Or how watery the other man's eyes were from unshed tears. The only thing that mattered now was forcing Toris back into line, and curing the other nation’s madness.
But what was the best cure for temporary insanity? The answer came to Ivan instantly. Before Toris would have a chance to move out of his reach, he slapped the other man across the face. Pain was amazing at grabbing people’s attention, so what could be better for making them realize that they were being completely insane and unreasonable? Maybe a dose of pain was just what Toris needed right now to help chase these ideas of freedom out of his mind.
Instantly after striking the other man, Ivan felt his arm ache in protest. If Toris did not settle down after the blow, then using physical means to keep him in his house might prove to be difficult. In this sickened state, he almost felt his true age. Even remaining standing was a bit of a chore, particularly after having drank as much alcohol as he had.
“How silly of you, Lithuania. You’re acting as though you have a choice in the matter. No, you won’t be my enemy, because you are going to be a good little servant and stay here with me, da? No more of this crazy talk. You can’t just break free whenever you please. I own you.”
The last sentence was stated with a tone of finality. He did not want to debate this matter anymore, and wanted Lithuania to simply back down and go back to his chores. Then things could go back to normal and somehow everything would be alright again. Eventually.
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Post by Lithuania on Aug 24, 2010 4:42:35 GMT -5
Toris kept his eyes fixed intently on Ivan, his gaze unflinching as the other man's hand cracked across his face and knocked his head roughly to the size. His cheek reddened with the mark of the handprint, but he kept his arms by his side and continued to stand his ground.
Today, he would not back down.
He watched as Ivan's arm slumped a little, noted how he swayed on his feet a little. Desperately trying to suppress the instinctive concern he felt for the blonde, he pressed his lips together as Ivan spoke.
“How silly of you, Lithuania. You’re acting as though you have a choice in the matter. No, you won’t be my enemy, because you are going to be a good little servant and stay here with me, da? No more of this crazy talk. You can’t just break free whenever you please. I own[/b] you.” [/color]
And as hard as Toris was struggling to keep his cool, to face down Ivan in a reasonable and dignified manner, the last three words from his lips sent a surge of anger through the smaller nation. Before he even realised what he was doing, a loud smack echoed out in the room as the heel of his hand connected with Ivan's cheekbone, the full force of his strength behind the blow. Withdrawing it as though it burned, he stared up at the taller man, his green eyes flashing furiously and his chest heaving.
“You don't own me,” he snapped. “I'm not a pet, or a possession, and you've treated me like one for so many years. And it never seemed to matter what I did, or how hard I tried or how stupidly devoted I was. You never cared about me past your own selfishness. And I hate it here!”
His hands were shaking now, and any last traces of the calmness he'd tried to hold on to were gone. “And do you know the worst part of it all, Vanya?” He spat the other man's nickname out as though it were an insult. “You didn't have to do any of it, you didn't have to beat me, or shut me away here, or force me into anything because I would have stayed anyway. For you.”
He clenched his fists, his shoulders shaking as hot, angry tears began to spill down his cheeks. “But it doesn't matter now, because I am leaving, because you've fucked everything up so badly that it can't be repaired this time.”
And in that moment, Toris hated him for it. Because if only Ivan had been that fraction more sane, then they might have been able to salvage what was left of their relationship, might have been able to work things through as allies. And in doing that, the brunette might have been able to hold on to the man he loved.
“I hate you, Ivan,” he blurted out. “I hate what you've done to me, and I hate what you've turned me into. I hate how weak you've made me, I hate the fact that the whole world thinks that I'm nothing more than your bitch and I hate the way I can't even look in the mirror any more because I feel sick every time I catch a glimpse of my own skin.”
Angrily, he wiped away the stream of tears with his fist and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I won't let you take me down with you any more,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I have nothing left to give you.”
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An: Wow, Toris is a drama queen. [/size][/i]
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Post by Russia on Aug 25, 2010 3:41:16 GMT -5
The last thing that Russia had expected was Toris to actually have the nerve to strike him back. That had never been how things had been done in the past. Normally, Ivan would slap Toris, and the green-eyed nation would simply back down and plead for forgiveness. Not only was Ivan shocked at the act itself, but the amount of strength put into that slap. His face actually hurt. There was probably a degrading little red handprint on his pale features now too, which would not look good for his public image at all. Who would have ever imagined a great, powerful nation like Russia, being slapped by a Baltic? It was enraging and humiliating. Still shocked beyond actions, Ivan just stared at Toris for a moment while the fiery Baltic went off about not being a pet.
“And do you know the worst part of it all, Vanya?”
He suddenly did not at all care for the Lithuanian to be using his nickname. That was a privilege that only close friends and lovers were allowed. And since Toris was making it obvious that he was not either, the urge to take some heavy blunt object to the disloyal country was overpowering. In silent response to Toris’ question, Ivan did know the worst part of it. The worst part was that he had put so much blind trust in Toris being a loyal servant and lover. Already he felt foolish for that mistake. He lost whatever Lithuania had been saying, but the other man was crying now for some strange reason that Ivan could not even begin to grasp. Weren’t you only supposed to cry if you were sad? But he was pretty sure that Toris was far from being sad, so he was completely confused. With his mind reeling and his head stating to throb, Russia was only halfway listening to Toris now.
“I hate you, Ivan,”
The words stung, but Ivan had already been preparing himself to hear those words after Lithuania’s previous outburst. It only proved what the cracked Russian had not been willing to consider before, that Lithuania did not stay out of any sort of emotional connection at all, but out of fear and respect. What did he need the other nation’s love for, so long as he had power and control? That had been what he needed in order to keep an iron grip on his subordinate. If only he had the strength he had had forty five years ago, after he had emerged from the war victorious. Back then, he had no problems keeping any of his satellite nations in line. It had been so easy then, and he never thought he would see the day when he would be so weak as to allow himself to be struck by a servant.
“I have nothing left to give you.”
Violet eyes locked onto Lithuania as Russia figured out how exactly he was going to hurt the other nation. As crazy as he could be, Ivan understood that he would need to regain some of his strength if he were to command the fear, respect and loyalties of his treacherous Baltic. That being the case, he still could not allow himself to just back off and let Lithuania leave after that little rant. Even if it turned out that he could not hold onto the other man in his pathetically weakened state, he at least wanted to inflict as much pain as he could on Toris. Maybe if he ever regained his lost power and influence, then Russia would once again be able to force Lithuania to love him. Or at least, claim to love him again. He could live with knowing it was a lie, so long as it was a convincing lie, like it had been before tonight.
“You would have never had the nerve to say such things before, Liet. No, you’ve been waiting for me to weaken for awhile now haven’t you, my treacherous Lithuania. трусливой сукин сын. ” His words-despite their content- were dangerously soft, as if he were still speaking to a lover. “You’ll never be free. And one of these days you’ll come crying back to me, begging for forgiveness that I won’t grant. You leave now, and that’s it. Next time we meet, I’ll be strong again, and this time I won’t forgive you for your disloyalty.” His right hand found the vodka bottle on the table, while he kept his gaze fixed on Lithuania. If only he had been close enough to his pipe. He usually carried it with him everywhere around the house, but being ill, he had found himself too weary to be hauling the extra weight. It was upstairs still, and would have to miss out on the action yet again. Grabbing the cool glass bottle by the neck, he suddenly staggered forward a little and swung the makeshift weapon for Toris’ head with all the strength he could muster.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ((трусливой сукин сын = cowardly son of a bitch. A rather mild swear all things considered, but I can't see Ivan as swearing like a sailor.))
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Post by Lithuania on Aug 25, 2010 5:20:19 GMT -5
Ivan's voice was like liquid honey, even as the things he said made Toris shudder. The worst part was, in the back of his head, there was a little voice telling the brunette that Ivan was right, that he would never be free of him, that he wasn't capable of being anything other than Ivan's perpetually abused other half.
He opened his mouth to retort, but a flash of movement caused him to instinctively raise his arm to protect his head, just as Ivan swung for him with the vodka bottle. It shattered painfully against his forearm, sending shards of broken glass flying. Little crystalline shards sparkled in his hair as blood dripped down his arm. There was a long silence as he stared at the other man fiercely, too utterly incensed and hyped on the adrenaline and anger of the moment to pay attention to the burning pain in his arm, or the glass which dug into his flesh.
“Yблюдок!” he exclaimed, throwing Ivan's native language back at him with a snarl, spitting out the Russian word in disgust. “Is this your answer to everything? And you're honestly surprised that I'm leaving you?!”
He reached over and pulled a large, bloody shard of glass from his arm and threw it angrily at Ivan's feet. “If you were anyone else, then we could have stayed together...” he began desperately. And he realised that this was the thing that he was most angry about. The fact that Ivan was too unreasonable to let him have his freedom and still remain his lover. “...but not you, Vanya. You have to destroy everything, don't you?”
Brimming with hurt and fury, he gave Ivan a hard shove square in the chest, sending him sprawling back into his chair. “Пошёл на хуй! There's nothing for you to forgive, you're not the injured party here! You know fine well that I could have stayed if you hadn't made things so unbearable.” His voice was hoarse, as though every word caused him just as much pain as it must have done Ivan. He grabbed the other man by the front of his coat, by that stupid scarf that he refused to take off, even in summer, his fists balling up in the material so tightly that his hands shook. His green eyes locked with violet, and in that desperate moment, with years of choked down resentment bubbling dangerously to the surface, he honestly could have strangled the other man. But instead, he found himself grabbing a fistful of blonde hair and crushing his mouth against Ivan's, violently and possessively, sharp white teeth biting down hard on his lower lip in an angry, desperate kiss. Then, as abruptly as it had started, Toris pushed him away again roughly, pale and shaking with tears streaming down his face.
"Иди к чёрту, мой Ваня...” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Иди к чёрту.”
----------------------------------- AN: Good times, Toris. Good times. "Yблюдок" means "bastard", "Пошёл на хуй" roughly translated to "fuck you", and "Иди к чёрту, мой Ваня" means "Go to Hell, my Vanya". XD
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Post by Russia on Aug 26, 2010 4:13:50 GMT -5
Toris blocked the blow barely in time to stop the glass bottle from smashing into the side of his head. How unfortunate for Ivan that he had been paying enough attention to see it coming in time. Now, instead of giving Toris a nasty head injury and potentially knocking him out, all he had succeeded in doing was dusting the angry nation with shards of broken glass. Immediately, the bright blood dripping from Toris’ sliced up arm drew Russia’s gaze. At least he had done some for of damage, even if it had not been as sever as he had intended.
The sudden attack had completely worn the sickened Russian out, to the point where he was simply too sore to try for another blow with either his fist or the remaining piece of broken bottle he still clutched. His body aching in protest, he kept his standing posture and just stared at the brown-haired man before him, trying to relieve some of the throbbing in his arm by resting it at his side. Every fiber of his being wanted to punish the Lithuanian more. Beat the Baltic nation into submission and make him pay for his hurtful words and treacherous actions. His body however, just wanted rest and another dose of numbing alcohol. Crawling upstairs and into bed sounded so nice at the moment.
“Yблюдок! Is this your answer to everything? And you're honestly surprised that I'm leaving you?!”
Ivan was surprised to hear Toris use his own language against him. He had not even known that the other man had memorized such words from his language. Violence was a good answer to any problems though, and it had served him so well before. Of course he would resort to it when desperate. Violence and aggression were also all the more appealing to him being as how they were even embedded into his culture. Might was right, and anyone who argued otherwise must be weak. Besides, he had tried reasoning with Toris, but the other man simply refused to be reasonable. So what else could he do?
“If you were anyone else, then we could have stayed together...”
Anyone else… The words echoed in head. Toris must have been admitting that he had other lovers that he would rather be with. Images of Germany instantly came to mind, along with the time at the beginning of World War Two, when Lithuania had double crossed Ivan because of an affair with Germany. Basically, his favorite servant was telling him that he would have stayed with Ludwig, because he liked Ludwig much better all along. Ever since Russia had re-claimed Lithuania from Germany, the deceptive little Baltic had been fantasizing about leaving Russia’s house first chance he got. All because Ivan had “destroyed” Toris and Ludwig’s relationship. So caught up was he in his own false realization, that Ivan was taken by surprise by the feeling of being shoved back into his chair.
“Пошёл на хуй! There's nothing for you to forgive, you're not the injured party here! You know fine well that I could have stayed if you hadn't made things so unbearable.”
The words seemed to go against his new assertion that Lithuania had been planning to leave for a very long time now and Ivan was suddenly feeling so very confused about the entire issue. Dismayed, he had no idea what to think anymore, and he was starting to realize that no matter what he did or said, he would not be able to convince Lithuania that he was not responsible for all the problems with the Soviet Union or their previous relationship. He was to play the part of the scapegoat now that he couldn’t properly defend himself either verbally or physically. And maybe a part of him deep down was not as completely naïve to think that he had no role in the destruction of the Union. He had been the lead Soviet nation after all, and hadn’t it been mostly him that had insisted on being well defended? And lack of money was ultimately the cause for all the tensions, wasn’t it?
Rather suddenly, Lithuania pounced on him and gave him a rough, unwanted kiss. Letting go quickly and shoving Ivan back before he could protest or try to pull free.
"Иди к чёрту, мой Ваня...”
Angry, but too exhausted to do much more in the ways of fighting, Russia finally dropped the broken vodka bottle and reached a hand wearily to his lower lip, pulling it away and staring at the trace amounts of blood. He gave Lithuania a dirty look. “You hurt me.” It really was the most pathetic, obvious and stupidly innocent statement the Russian had made in a very long time, but he said it more out of disbelief than anything else. His poor health taking its toll, Ivan went from being unyielding about trying to keep Toris with him, to just wanting the confrontation to be done and to go lay down.
“Don’t…” The unstable nation decided against finishing his sentence. It wasn’t worth it since both words and strength had proven useless this time. As ill as he was, Russia was still a proud country, and would never resort to any sort of useless pleading. Instead, Ivan settled for giving Toris an icy glare and sinking into his chair more, resting both hands on the arm rests. Let him go for now, if he thought that suddenly being free would be so much better for him. Russia would not acknowledge this newfound freedom and would be content to wait for Lithuania to come crawling back to him.
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Post by Lithuania on Aug 26, 2010 13:09:44 GMT -5
Lithuania staggered back from Ivan, as though he could scarely believe what was happening, as the other nation forlornly wiped at the tiny smear of blood on his lower lip. The blonde looked so hurt, so innocent and confused, and Toris felt a sick pull of guilt in his chest at the sight.
“You hurt me.”
It was as though the other man really, genuinely couldn't believe what was happening. And that huge, crashing wave of anger suddenly died, like the wind being taken out of a ship's sails, as he looked at Ivan's child-like, uncomprehending expression, and the frailty which was evident in the way he slumped in his chair.
"I...I didn't mean to..." he began to falter quietly, but was cut short by the next thing out of Ivan's mouth, one small, simple word.
"Don't..."
At this, Toris' hand flew to his mouth and his face creased up in pain, utterly bereft of all of his righteous anger from a moment ago. Even the glare that Russia tried to shoot him was so very petulant, so boyish, that the desire to hurt the other man left him as quickly as it had flared up, and he suddenly felt so horribly, sickeningly ashamed of himself.
"Vanya...I..." he began, and had to physically stop himself, had to clench his fists and keep his arms at his side and furiously choke down the almost uncontrollable desire to take the Russian in his arms and apologise, over and over again, for causing him to make such a face, for even contemplating something so awful as leaving him when he needed Toris most. Shoulders shaking with the emotional effort that it took to stand his ground, he clenched his teeth together tightly, unable to speak as silent tears coursed down his cheeks and his blood pounded in his ears.
Because this was it. This was really goodbye, and he wouldn't be able to stall it any more. In a few moments time, he would be turning on his heel and leaving the Soviet Union to its doomed fate, with Ivan caught in the centre of it all. In a few moments, he would have to turn his back on his lover, all pale skin and boyish hair and wide, hurt violet eyes. He'd never curl up with him in front of the fire again through long winters, or help him plant sunflowers in summer. And it hurt too much, the fact that their last kiss had been something so ugly and aggressive, that their last moments together under one roof would be a constant source of bitterness and reproach for him. But he had no other alternative.
"You should know..." he began, his voice shaking as he stared down at the other man, not bothering to hide his own distress now. For what did any of it matter, when he would be gone in a few minutes time? "You should know that I loved you, that I was never, ever unfaithful to you, no matter what you forced me to confess to."
He wrapped his arms about himself tightly, and wished so very fervently that Ivan could stand up tall and strong again, and pull him into a tight embrace against his broad chest and tell him not to be silly and make it all ok again. He suddenly realised that he'd never felt so utterly alone in his entire life.
"Whatever you want to think of me," he choked out, "Then you have to know that...for me...there was only ever you."
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Post by Russia on Aug 28, 2010 3:37:37 GMT -5
"Vanya...I..."
Again, Toris was inappropriately using Ivan’s nickname, after having established that they were not close anymore. It was almost as though the small Baltic nation was mocking him by continuing to use the term of endearment. He wanted so badly to slap dear Toris. To hurt him for completely ruining his already less than pleasant day, and then adding insult to injury with is words.
Russia looked to his servant miserably, noticing the way he clenched his fists and shook with rage. There were also more of those puzzling tears. How anyone could cry when they were angry was too strange. When Ivan himself was angry beyond words, the last thing he wanted to do was cry. He got the sometimes uncontrollable urge to flatten the object of his displeasure’s skull in with a pipe, but he never wanted to cry in front of them. He wasn’t beyond being moved to tears, but he didn’t make it a habit. It would make him look weak and overly emotional, two of the very last attributes that any self-respecting Russian wanted to be known as having.
Lithuania started talking again, but this time the other man’s knowledge of Russian swear words must have been used up. His voice still shook with what Russia took to be anger, but his words were less confrontational. Toris was instead bringing up the past, and claiming that he was faithful, or at least had been. Ivan honestly didn’t know how true that was anymore. He had been so sure that Lithuania and Germany had been involved in secret affairs, and right now he was hoping that it was true. If Toris had instead confessed to the crime, then Ivan would not feel so bad about the other nation running out on him. If what Toris claimed was true however, he would have reason to feel even more upset in the wake of his absence.
"Then you have to know that...for me...there was only ever you."
The downtrodden Russian wanted to believe that deep down. He really did. But Lithuania was by far more popular and easy to befriend than he was. The Baltic had probably had many opportunities in the past, before Russia had started keeping such close tabs on him. And with his close relationships with nations such as Poland and Germany, Ivan had to wonder.
If he had meant so much to Lithuania once upon a time, then how could Toris walk out on him now when he needed his support the most? He mentally added it to the increasing list of things he did not understand about his previous lover.
It occurred to Ivan, that he should probably say something to Toris. But besides pleading with him not to run off and leave him all alone in his overly large house, what could he say? He had already wasted too much effort in convincing and threatening the brown-haired Lithuanian. He did not want to give Toris the pleasure of another verbal victory, all because he was too weak to put up much of an argument, or a fight. So he just stared at Toris, his eyes reflecting an unusual weariness. Waiting until Lithuania was almost out the door, he finally spoke up.
“Дo свидания.” Toris would be back soon. Of that Russia was certain. Although letting the other nation walk off with no farewell would have seemed so wrong. What if I can’t get him back? What if he really is beyond my reach after today? Annoyed at his own sentimentality, he pushed the thoughts aside. The important thing now was that he needed rest. Once he got the strength, he would drag himself up those rickety stairs and into bed, where he could just forget the little confrontation had ever happened, and quite possibly wake up and find Toris back and busily working on the chores.
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