Initiation of the Conclusion [Russia,China]

[china]

So, are you friend

[/i][/left][/size]

Or foe

[/i][/center][/size]

Because I used to know.

[/font]

“Classes struggle, some classes triumph,
Others are eliminated.
Such is history;
Such is the history of civilization for thousands of years. “
-- Mao Zedong

Location: Forbidden City

[/b][/right]

{N/A} 1957
Pre. Sino-Soviet Split ;; Other

[/i][/right]

Enemies was a concept China had known for a long time, it was nothing new towards his perspective of reality. That of which he had managed to survive through was enough to enlighten his insight, enlightening him to the cruelty that plagued the world he thrived in. As a nation, he’d come to accept the isolationist ideal that no matter what China decided; in the end it was all that mattered. China could not rely on the USSR, nor its allies for the support and foundation he needed to excel. He could not follow Stalin, despite how Mao Zedong had been sought out prior between the World War upheavals; chosen specifically to lead him towards the new era of Communism—overshadowing that of the prior Qing Dynasty. His emperor was gone. China’s last emperor had fallen, and in his place was the Marxism interpretation of the Middle Kingdom’s being, dyed in red from head to toe. Yao recalled meeting the man for the first time, still in utter shock and dismay at the loss of tradition. In the end, it was his choice to change the course of thousands of years of prior history—or fade back into the void in which he came from.

(“It seems like I do not have much of a choice,

We never do.”)

His people rallied in anger, furious over the Japanese; furious over the loss of his Dynasty. China was changing quickly, cautiously—and leaving no room for anything less then full cooperation. The wounds he’d sustained from the World War, despite it having been near a decade from its untimely end, still plagued him. Hounded his every thought, every movement he made somehow pricked the memories Yao so desperately wanted to remove. Almost as much as how his politics desired Japan be bombarded off the map, diminished into nothing but ash in hopes that the Japanese be wiped off the planet. Surely, the world would be better off without such barbaric, inhuman beasts—but with time, China’s rage had quelled enough to find another outlet of frustration. Much to Yao’s relief, as thoughts dwelling on the war placed him in the dire mental state of nostalgic sorrow; as well as unrestrained vehemence. There was another issue that required his attention, one farther from home and quick to remind him that his alliance was of convenience.

His leader had little intent to keep the guidelines Joseph Stalin had laid before him on the conversion into communism. He was free to change, to morph into what would work best with the Chinese population. In the end, it had saved the country from entering a bloody civil war. Of course, there was a civil war—but Yao understood above all else that it could have been far worse. Considering the history he had to work with, and the limited materials; the famine, the war, the assault mentally and physically on the millions of Chinese. His war to free himself from the chains of his past could have been much worse. Mao consoled him, stating that lives were not special or limited to that of importance; lives were gambles. Something that could be born today, and gone tomorrow; the world was not set in stone, not like Wang Yao. Even on that subject, he was undecided. The words of his leader should have been something for those that were influenced by change; Mao Zedong changed his world, but he had no opinion in the matter. This world was one that his people were to walk in, it was not made for him; that became obvious when the People’s Republic of China began to seek out the USSR’s favor in economical issues and politics. Mao urged him, pushed him ruthlessly to drop his prior stigma of Western nations just enough to allow the USSR in.

And I remember saying that he did not belong in the East, or the West. He is but his own identity, how sad for him.

[/i] It was true that Yao believed Ivan the odd-man-out; he did not find a home within the Western hemisphere, nor was he Asian. He was his own, he was alone. Yao was isolated, all of his siblings had either left, or been free enough from China’s weakened grip to emerge as their own directors. Fate had an odd sense of humor, placing him so very close to the bottom; he’d been so utterly weak when Ivan approached him. Backed into a corner by the Japanese, China’s only defense was to fight until nothing was left for Japan to take. So he fought, and within the bloodbath and night alight with flames from burning villages; Yao teetered on the edge of destruction. Then, you came. Then---everything changed.

Frowning deep in thought, the Chinese had almost forgotten his initial reasoning. His feet touched solid ground, old encrusted marble that had been placed there many centuries before. Mao Zedong had called for a meeting with the rapidly changing USSR. As China began to transform, so did the ally he once graced with thanks over the impromptu guidance that more or less saved his life. A new war had begun, the Cold War. It began at the very end of World War II, and continued on like an unrequited memory scratching at the surface of his subconscious. Reminding everyone that it was only a matter of time, as it was their nature to compete and hate what tolerance couldn’t adept. Beside himself, his leader was taunt—stressed over the ideal that the USSR was paying more attention to internal affairs that were minor in comparison of what would win the Cold War. Yao’s enlightenment on the subject of war, as an observer, had become clairvoyant. There was much he could see that the USSR was doing wrong, and the death of Stalin only instigated more unrest. Mao might have not followed his ally’s ideals fully, but he could tell that his leader adored the man as surely as Yao did Ivan; specifically for what had been done for China’s wellbeing. Malenkov and Khrushchev were a different game entirely, this became painfully obvious when Khrushchev began to reverse the USSR’s preferences on downplaying the core Marxist-Leninist thesis of inevitable armed conflict between capitalism and socialism.

And so the rift had opened. The wound between the two close Communist powers began to sour, and with it came Yao’s anxiety. His ally, he could feel, was pulling away from him as surely as he was doing the same; both feared each other. It might not have been initial fear, as in life-or-death warmongering—but a fear that would leave them both separated. There was an interest rising within China, one that he too understood to be revolutionary. The Great Leap Forward was an ingenious, but dastardly idea of using China’s population superiority to gain what leverage he lost within prior wars. Yao had lost much, almost too much; gaining whatever back would be no small feat, considering those that he had humored with conflict had been light-years ahead of him. He was close to the fissure, a rupture between them would happen; despite how he desired that it would not come about this way. Perhaps it was just pessimism, but the meeting prior to his arrival to the Forbidden City suffocated much of the hope on such subjects. Dark amber eyes quickly glanced over to the Russian that he was guiding around, more so as a host over ally, or friend.

”A lot has changed, hasn’t it?” Those words were slow, calculated; cold in means that he once spoke so openly with the other nation at his side. The Forbidden City, true to the name, was forbidden to enter without appropriate means. It was barren, save for the two of them; walking around the once lavish courtyard that his Emperors and Empresses once took simple pleasures in. Now, they were nothing more then phantoms of the past Yao left behind, that he left being for the USSR. For his future.

(“So take him into the Forbidden City,

show him that everything changes with time.”)

Sliding his hands into his long sleeves, Yao nudged his heel lightly against the cold stone. In truth, he hated being anywhere near the Forbidden City. It brought too many memories back, and among those—the reality that he could never go back. He was actually quite surprised when Mao agreed to leave the once Royal Palace standing, even though those that supported the Dynasty were to be hung for treason against the People’s Republic of China. ”You and I have changed, and now you are so keen on doing things your own way—aren’t you?” Yao kept his voice clear, not angered with the Russian or even accusing the male of taking back the offers of close economic partnership; as well as their joint program on nuclear weapons. Outsourcing such things to China would have been a wise move, considering the manpower would boost the construction of nuclear weapons. If Russia attempted to engage in all-out war, the quantity on his side of the field, as well as quality would be something to fear. Yao had more then ten reasons to fear Ivan as well; yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He wasn’t cornered, even if many thought he was beginning to fall into that same pit the West had tricked him into before.

What truly wounded him was the fact Ivan was beginning to make foolish choices, including pushing him away. In a sense, they were pushing each other way. Neither was willing to trust, neither felt the need to give what they could save themselves the trouble for. Ivan didn’t need Yao, and Yao was more then ready to return the gesture that he didn’t need Ivan. An underlining feeling was there, contorted and confused; meshed between two nations. Yao couldn’t say that he hated Ivan, or that he had been betrayed by him; just as Ivan could not accuse him of that either. Not that he would put it past the large Russian to attempt it. There were many actions they’d taken these past few years that seemed more then a little strained. Within all of the mess, however, there was a longing. Mao had warned the Communist power; over and over again, that the path the USSR was beginning to take was that of self-destruction. Yao too could see that, in fact he should have been the first to pin-point out exactly what his ally was doing wrong. His compassion for the other nation, though, kept his mouth shut and eyes averted. Over everything the USSR had done, China turned blind eyes to that which did not concern his homeland.

” Winning an argument does not mean one has convinced one's opponent.” Yao muttered softly, swapping from his native tongue to that of which Ivan understood. An ancient proverb, which rang true to those that could understand that sometimes words didn’t speak that of truth or lies. What mattered were the woven mentalities behind it, no matter what he said to Ivan—even if he won in making him see what he was doing was ridiculous, the Russian wouldn’t stop. He’d probably continue down the path, and when that day came he might do so without China’s aid or favor. Not that he needed it. Not that he wanted it. Yao’s mind was tangled, befuddled with what he wanted to say as a nation; but also what he needed to say as a companion to the younger man. He’d lived quite some time, which was no secret at all—even though he preferred others not bring up how many years he’d lived through. Wisdom came from experience, and as such he couldn’t condemn Ivan for making these mistakes when one took into consideration his and America’s age. Everything was still a game, and perhaps that was all it would be for as long as the Cold War continued on.

Yao’s eyes continued to take turns in glancing over the ancient architecture of his Forbidden City, and then back to the roundness of Ivan’s icy face. He saw something there, something that he wasn’t ever certain he placed in any other nation’s eyes before meeting the northern neighbor on this ‘hospitable’ basis. ”I’ve always wondered, Wǒ de zhànyǒu.” Pausing for a moment, the Chinese nodded swiftly and turned his entire body around on a pivot. No longer leading Ivan through the hollow halls of the Forbidden City, but keeping him there in the Main Hall where they could take the moment to speak. What had transpired over the meeting had shown Mao’s distaste of what the Sino-Soviet Relationship was becoming. There was much to talk about still, if not between China and the USSR—then between Yao and Ivan.

”What do you see happening now?” Closing his thin lips, Yao pressed them firmly together until they made a neutral line. His gaze lingered, unfearful although there was something akin to dread behind it.
[/font][/blockquote]










(( NOTES:
To get the basis of the argument here, we have to go waaayy back when Stalin first introduced Communism to China. Here are the parallel differences that started the weird tear between China and Russia.

*Stalinism, like conventional Marxism, was a theory that said true equality could only be achieved by urbanization of cities, industrialization and by the seizure of the capitalist apparatus by INDUSTRIAL (i.e. those who worked in mines, factories, et cetera) workers. The Maoists on the other hand changed the ideology a little
because China was utterly deindustrialised at the time aside from Shanghai, Nanking and a few other cities.

*Mao changed the ideology to appeal to peasant farmers who were actually the traditional enemies of Marxism (because it was thought that farmers supported the bourgeois.)

*So Maoism was based on a concept of rural collectivization and progress through eventual industrialization. The Maoists began to implement these policies in bulk after they won the civil war, the soviets thought they were dangerously diverting from the urban basis of communism.

** The Great Leap Forward is a Maoism ideal that came about right before this official meeting between the USSR and China. It caused much distress in the Soviet’s eyes, considering that China was rapidly (at the moment) growing with that of its power stemming from China’s huge population occupancy.

*** Eventually, the above Great Leap Forward would catalyst the USSR’s reconciliation that the nuclear/economic bonds between the two countries be dispersed instantly.

{{TRANSLATION NOTES}}

 Wǒ de zhànyǒu. Loosely translates to “My Comrade” Which is one of Ivan’s words, probably passed onto Yao even in his native tongue.

For a loose brief overview, I recommend going here for a summary.))

[Russia]

Ivan had not been entirely sure what to expect at the recent meeting. One thing was for sure, with Khrushchev’s denouncement of Stalin in “The Secret Speech" only last year, Ivan had been certain that things would not go well between his and Yao’s leaders. With a staunch Stalin supporter in Mao, and Ivan’s fairly new and very much anti-Stalin boss, the blonde Soviet was actually amazed that things had not ended on a more disastrous note. He had been even more surprised when Yao had insisted on taking him out to see some imperial city of his right after the meeting.

It was odd, he used to love visiting his neighbor and ally whenever he could. Yao’s home was very strange and exotic to him, and they used to be able to have some very interesting conversations together. The sometimes frighteningly old nation had always had the most interesting stories to tell, and though Ivan failed to grasp the true meanings of some of his ally’s more deep anecdotes, he still used to enjoy hearing them.

These days, Ivan rarely visited China, and nearly never came over to speak with his old friend outside of business trips. It wasn’t that he disliked Yao or anything. They had their differences in opinion concerning their communistic ways, but that had not made him harbor any actual hatred for the other nation. He just thought that Yao was silly to divert from the “true” communist ideals. The ones that he held so strongly to now. China was too slow in his industrialization. How did he expect to catch up with and surpass the other nations in might and technology if he was taking things at a turtle’s pace?

It was not just Ivan’s dismay with China’s Maoism that was driving a wedge between them though. Other things had been capturing the Soviet nation’s interest as well. Things that China did not place as much importance on. Not with the same passion that he did, anyways. Russia didn’t want to slowly advance his way to power. He wanted to take the world by storm. He wanted to gain power and control as quickly as possible, no matter what the cost and the problems that might arise from trying to do too much too fast. He wanted-needed- to catch up and surpass America in both nuclear arms and political power. This was more than just an idea to him, it was an outright fact. The western allies were without doubt looking for every possible way to undermine his influence and power. They could enter a nuclear war anytime now, and if he did not have the means to defend himself and the Union, then they were surely all doomed.

But here, in this foreign and beautiful city, thoughts of doom and destruction were easier to push to the back burner. With all the interesting sights to see in the Forgotten City, it was hard to even attempt to focus on important things such as what their leaders had just finished discussing. Looking around at the oddly shaped structures, he hoped that Yao did not wish to simply continue the earlier meeting in the relative privacy of the Forgotten City.

”A lot has changed, hasn’t it?”

The strangely distant sounding words pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned his violet gaze to Yao. What’s changed a lot? He gave the man a naively quizzical look. No matter what Yao meant with those words, the statement was true on several levels.

“You and I have changed, and now you are so keen on doing things your own way—aren’t you?”

Ivan was thoughtful. Yes, they had both changed in many ways. For the better of course in his case. Or so he thought. The world around them had changed too, and it was necessary by his reasoning to change to embrace it. “Да.” He confirmed softly, looking away from Yao to study the surroundings again as they walked. Truth be told, he did stubbornly insist on doing things his way. His way was the only way as far as he was concerned. Why should he listen to others when he already knew what was best for himself?

“ Winning an argument does not mean one has convinced one's opponent.”

There was probably wisdom to the words, there usually was with Yao when he was being serious. But why do I need to convince my opponents when I win an argument? Isn’t it enough that I’ve won? He decided against voicing these thoughts to his Chinese companion for the time being. He respected China, and somehow he just knew Yao would make those thoughts of his seem silly by any argument against them he might have.

”I’ve always wondered, Wǒ de zhànyǒu.”

Caught up in looking at the architecture, Ivan nearly stumbled into Yao’s smaller frame as the other paused. His ally turned around to face him suddenly, and Ivan backed up a bit to allow him more room. Curious violet eyes scanned the Chinese nation’s face, as though trying to predict what exactly Yao was wondering about in advance.

”What do you see happening now?”

“You mean worldwide, Comrade?” He questioned. His boyish features brightened, despite the overall tension that had been hanging around them since the meeting. “I see myself surpassing America in military might and political influence.” he tried jovially. The Russian’s smile faltered for a moment as he studied his ally’s neutral expression. “Unless… you are referencing the meeting.."

Though his smile remained firmly in place, the Russian’s formerly happy demeanor seemed to evaporate on the spot. He stared at China for a few moments in a sort of tense silence. “I don’t know, Comrade. You seem hesitant to join me in doing what needs to be done these days.” He made a move to pass the other nation and further examine the room, but stopped himself. “You don’t seem to be placing as much money and resources into the things you should be. Your boss has strange ideas, and I only hope that future meetings go better than the one we had today.”

[china]

Sighing softly, the Asian let his shoulders fall in exasperation. He should have known better—his ally could be as equally stubborn as their enemy. While he was not in direct war with America, he stood beside the USSR in most of its decisions; despite what it meant for China. True, his utmost concern was to keep his people from rioting under Mao in favor of his past dynasties. But no matter what, the line and page of that part of his life was over; his Emperor’s lineage was no more—and he was communist with Maoism as his basis. With the tensions rising between the both of them, Yao could feel the underlining torrent pulling Ivan in a different direction. Many times, he attempted to share stories of hard work, and perseverance to the younger northern neighbor. Sometimes he doubted the message behind such things didn’t exactly get all the way through, as Ivan was still too young to register what the ancient Chinese meant by being cautious as being progressive.

In his comrade’s eyes, he began to see doubts. Impatience. Ivan didn’t want to wait, he didn’t need to—not when he had the means of winning so close in his grasp. Reaching for the fruit too early leaves only a bitter taste in one’s mouth, comrade. His eyes ventured along, watching and glancing behind himself from time to time as to keep an eye on the large Russian. Not that it was too difficult, since they were the only ones allowed within the Forbidden City. The fact the Russian too looked like a tower amongst the Chinese citizens too helped, in quite the humorous way. Anyone who wasn’t completely blind could see that Ivan was an outsider, foreign to the concepts of China and Chinese architecture. Perhaps he should have been proud that Ivan was interested in the buildings, despite the palace now being nothing more then a hollow shell of what China once was. Four thousand years ago, he had seen the throne being traded and handed down to father and son. Sometimes, rarely, did he get an Empress for longer then two years before her betrothed was placed ahead of her.

His mind wandered away from the Forbidden City, eyes gazing down the hall to where the throne room was. He didn’t want to take Ivan in there. Nostalgia was a powerful thing, and despite the childish face his comrade wore; he didn’t doubt that Ivan wouldn’t pick up that something was indefinitely wrong with him. Instead, a small trinket caught his eye—a very small circular pin that held the Emperor’s seal of Imperial China. Didn’t you give me something like that, long ago?

[/i] It wasn’t as long ago as Yao made it seem, but his memory flashed back to the rainy night when the Soviet Air Force had approached the Chinese on their struggling battlefield. Back then, he had been fighting Kiku as hard as he possibly could—despite how very unprepared he was. Never since his many civil wars had he seen so many bodies, but even within the hopelessness of his unindustrialized country; his people fought for China as they would have under any other circumstance. They took blows to Japan, despite the losses—despite the consequences. In death, they outnumbered the Japanese; but in courage they were unrivaled. Without tanks, without air support, without anything the Chinese line was held.

\\ ”Get the front line stable, we don’t have much time!”

” 指挥官！There are planes approaching from the north, it seems that they are preparing to land near our camp!”

His back hurt.

”---妈的！ Don’t let them in, don’t let take us by surprise! Hold the line, I’ll go with you—these 鬼 must be dealt with.”

He was in agony, there had been no time to stitch up the open katana wound down his back; no time to nurse the broken wrists or ankles. He had to keep moving, he had to keep fighting; he had to keep moving forward. //

He diverted from “true” communist ideals, which was something he couldn’t deny either. Ivan was probably disappointed in that, but seeing as they both made it work were relevant to that communism could be brought about in different ways. One didn’t need to rush, one shouldn’t rush change. Ivan was going from one sense of the extreme to the other. Mao desired a leader, a comrade like Stalin. What he got, however, was something completely different. Now China was upset with the outcome, and he—didn’t exactly know what he should have felt. Ivan was an ally, and in some ways; more then that, a friend. Someone he could trust, even if his world was falling down. The man could have kicked him while he was down, being so close to the border and watching away as Asia tore itself apart like ravished dogs. That was what he’d heard of his northern neighbor, in any case. Cruel without meaning, cold and ruthless; with little care for anything or anyone unless there was some sort of gain to be had. That was what he had been expecting. This man should have been like every other Westerner he’d ever dealt with, and yet that was not so.

\\ ”Tell me what you are doing here! Go back, your flag does not belong in China unless you are the enemy!”

”Sir, I don’t think they speak Chinese.”

”Just my luck—look, we don’t need to fight this war on two fronts. Don’t think I believe them for a second that they are here to observe for the Soviets.”

He’d been so mistrustful then, almost pushing Ivan’s children back to the border and demanding they never come back. Not to show their face in China. Not to cheat China, not to destroy China like everyone else seemed to be doing.

”It seems they want to volunteer their aid, we aren’t in any position to turn them away.”[/i]

”---Then let them stay.”//

Making a soft sound, Yao glanced upwards when Ivan bumped into him. He hadn’t noticed that he had stopped; but the Russian was looking towards him as well, questioningly at first. He’d drowned out Ivan’s agreement; probably because he hadn’t expected Ivan to say “no” to the blatant fact that everything around them had changed in so little time. Raising an eyebrow at the male, he continued to walk forward; not enjoying the Russian so close. At any other time, perhaps having his ally nearby would have calmed him; now it felt like Ivan’s touch stung him. The reality that they were so close, and yet so far away in every aspect that Khrushchev and Mao Zedong brought up within their private official meeting. Breathing in evenly, his eyelids closed as his arms wove their way across his upper torso. Looking almost like he wanted to scold Ivan, which he would—in due time. First, it was important that he understand where his comrade was coming from.

“You mean worldwide, Comrade?” Not exactly where he wanted the conversation to go, but maybe Ivan didn’t want to talk about what transpired at the meeting? He wouldn’t blame him if that were the case, Ivan didn’t seem the type to enjoy losing anything; losing an ally might have been too sensitive a subject. “I see myself surpassing America in military might and political influence.” Holding back a sigh, Yao repressed the need to roll his eyes at Ivan’s almost playful banter. He’d been saying that for years. Since they both signed onto their alliance in the 1950’s, which was simply a piece of paper, which meant nothing to Yao. He’d felt Ivan had earned his respect on the battlefield, shown that he was more trustworthy then any other nation he’d seen for many years. Ivan’s alliance was confirmed, but Yao felt Ivan was his ally since World War II transpired. Not that—he felt the need to express such things to him.

\\”What’s this? Why—are you giving me this?”

A Russian solider, a gift in the form of a pin. Pressed into his hand, delicately but firmly; with those foreign looking eyes glancing at him before nodding. When Yao had uncurled his hand, the small metal trinket was just a simple button with the soviet ensigna burned into it.

”I—see. Maybe you do have a point, foreigner…”

Of course he did,

the Communist regime had begun then. The new chapter of his life had begun, and he had Ivan to thank for that.//

“Unless… you are referencing the meeting.." Yao pressed his lips tightly together, the silence broke. ”I was.” He commented smoothly, keeping his voice perfectly monotone and hopefully unoffensive. “I don’t know, Comrade. You seem hesitant to join me in doing what needs to be done these days.” Frowning, Yao shifted his shoulders and felt them sink just slightly at the accusation. Despite how he wanted to deny that there was hesitance in following Ivan’s lead, he was. The nation was but a fraction of his age, and now more then ever was that showing. ”I know, Comrade. But how can you blame me for such? You’re making everything so uncomfortable now, for every nation. America and you have the reigns of the world so tight, no one can move one inch without setting off a catastrophe.” Calmly, he rose his dark amber eyes to meet with the amethyst orbs that equally seemed interested in observing him.

“You don’t seem to be placing as much money and resources into the things you should be. Your boss has strange ideas, and I only hope that future meetings go better than the one we had today.” That was offensive, even if Ivan had not meant it to be so. Inwardly, Yao steamed just a little bit—Ivan didn’t understand. He just saw what was on the surface, nothing that was happening asunder would pass through that child-like mentality. Yet, Yao did feel the need to stand up for both Mao’s reasoning and what information he believed could aid his friend. ”What my boss does is what is best for China, I do not see any fault in that. You don’t know me, you don’t understand how China functions.” Stern, but nothing Yao said back was meant to completely offend his northern neighbor. It was the truth, and that was something he’d always been quite good at telling. ”Your boss has stranger ideas, Comrade. He’s taking away everything that your other boss did for us. Why would he even do such a thing?” Piercing his lips together, Yao’s hands tightened on his own crimson sleeves.

”And if they don’t go better? What will happen then--?” It was something he didn’t want to think about. He’d lost Asia. China remained, but everything including Japan, the Koreas, and Vietnam had all but disappeared in the wind. ”I know what will happen, you will be gone. Or worse, we could become enemies.” He didn’t desire that. His tone was alluding enough to the very fact this was not what he wanted. China might go down one path, even while Yao desired another. In the end, it was not his choice, but he would wait for that day to come—he would be ready for it. As a nation, his ideal of not feeling care for any other nation reigned supreme. Ivan was his friend today. Ivan might not be his friend tomorrow. ”Comrade,” Yao began smoothly. ”You are putting too much money into your military expansion, too much time and work into things that are good for the future—but not now. You don’t have the stamina in the long run to keep up with this hunger,” frowning slightly Yao uncrossed his arms. Running his thumb over the sleeve of his gi, the Asian narrowed his eyes. This might not be a conversation that Ivan would enjoy, but it was for the best. Perhaps the other would hear him. Maybe—just maybe they could reverse this before it became too deadly.

”Your decisions are blinded by your desire to win, in the end it will be your downfall. You can win, Comrade. I want you to, you know that, don’t you?” His gaze finally moved up from the embroidery on his sleeve back to the Russian’s face. ”You’re changing, becoming more rash in these decisions. Don’t you agree? It will only harm you in the long run.”
[/font][/blockquote]



((Quick notes,

// \\ = Memories~
指挥官 = Commander/Person in Charge
妈的 = Shit
鬼 = Gweilo / Ghosts ; Slang for a Foreigner/Caucasian

Also, about the metal button-thingy. Fun fact, some of the Soviet Volunteer Air Force ended up giving their pins to Chinese soldiers. Some say it was to instigate the Communism movement in China/help stabilize the party that was beginning to form. Smart bastards.

Also true story, China almost kicked them out and refused their aid as a volunteer force. Eventually, they accepted and worked together. The Soviet Air Force is assumed to have saved many Chinese lives, considering China had no Air Force of their own at the time. Or like—anything, really.

Herpderp. Lookit me writing all this useless, boring junk~))

[Russia]

The Russian watched as his Chinese comrade’s expression changed from the dangerously neutral line to an outright frown. Yao must have not liked his simple, yet true accusation. He must have been hoping for a different reply, but for the life of him, Ivan could not figure out what that reply would be. It was a tense and unpleasant topic to begin with, and the stocky Russian was sure that he would be unable to give a reply that would make either of them any happier. The truth was the truth as far as he was concerned, and trying to pretend that everything was fine probably wouldn’t work with his elder friend anyways.

Of course what Yao was saying about Russia and his foe America having the reins of the world uncomfortably tight was true. Russia was willing to acknowledge that. But he viewed it as completely necessary. When America was yanking the reigns too tight, it was entirely necessary for Russia to do the same. It was a matter of safety as far as he was concerned. The western allies could attack at any moment and where would he and his Union be if he was powerless to defend? By competing and opposing America at every turn, he figured he was displaying the fact that should America become aggressive and want to start something, the Soviet Union would be more than capable of fighting back and giving just as good as they got. It was his hopes that eventually he would surpass the western allies altogether in technology and military might, and then he would be the single most impressive force on the planet. No more having to share the position with America.

”What my boss does is what is best for China, I do not see any fault in that. You don’t know me, you don’t understand how China functions.”

He couldn’t argue with the fact that he didn’t fully understand how China functioned. He did however have his own opinions on China’s boss, and he was sure that Yao would not be pleased with them. As far as these things were concerned, he tended to agree with Khrushchev. If only China had a different, more agreeable boss… Ivan kept the thought to himself. He respected his ally, perhaps more than any other nation, and was not about to start voicing his opinion that China needed a more capable leader.

”Your boss has stranger ideas, Comrade. He’s taking away everything that your other boss did for us. Why would he even do such a thing?”

Ivan’s smile faltered for a moment at the statement. His boss was not the boss with the strange ideas here. Yao was being silly to even suggest such a thing. How could he not see that Russia’s way of doing things was the correct way? “Khrushchev seems to be a good leader so far. He must know what he’s doing. Stalin was…” Ivan paused mid-thought, a slight look of fear crossing his youthful features for just a second. It was sad that the first thing he wanted to say was that Stalin was scary. As much as he adored the powerful dictator’s policy towards war and power, he still had feared the man as well. It was no secret to Ivan that his former boss had not exactly been the “comrade” towards his people that he had pretended to be. That he had been hyped up to be by the masses that sometimes even worshipped him.

“Khrushchev has his reasons for not exactly agreeing with my former boss in all areas.” He tried, wincing slightly at the lameness of that argument. He didn’t like the way this discussion was going already. Arguing with China was hard, with his old age and experience to back up his claims. Though Ivan was sure he was in the right, he was also sure that he was going to have problems making Yao realize that.

”And if they don’t go better? What will happen then--? I know what will happen, you will be gone. Or worse, we could become enemies.”

Ivan was silent as he listened. He honestly did not want to think about if their relations continued on the path of deterioration that they were currently on. Outside of the Soviet Union, allies were hard to come by, and Russia was not so good at making them in the first place. He could not replace China if their relations soured beyond repair. He also realized that China was not someone he wanted as an enemy, and not just because he viewed him as a friend and companion either. China had grown stronger since embracing communism, and even though he was slower to industrialize, he would still make for a fierce enemy . Ivan turned his gaze away from Yao in almost the same manner as a child receiving a scolding from a parental figure.

“We won’t be enemies.” he stated softly, almost as though assuring himself. He reached out awkwardly and patted Yao on the head in what he hoped was a friendly manner. “And I am not going to run out of stamina. Really. I can keep this up forever if I need to, that’s how good the system works. I’m not even starting to tire yet, and I won’t. You just don‘t understand."

”Your decisions are blinded by your desire to win, in the end it will be your downfall. You can win, Comrade. I want you to, you know that, don’t you? You’re changing, becoming more rash in these decisions. Don’t you agree? It will only harm you in the long run.”

Ivan met China’s gaze with a slight huff. “I’m not rash. And I know I can win and I will. Anything else is out of the question. But I couldn’t win if I did things like you. I need to put all this money into expansion. I have no choice in the matter really. Just think about what would happen if I just sat back and did nothing. America would be the one with all the accomplishments, power and influence.”

He stared at the dark haired nation, as though silently willing him to understand his views. “I didn’t become a great and powerful nation by taking things slow. Only old age comes to those who wait, Yao. You would be stronger too if you would take my advice and put more money into the important things." He gave the other country an out of place smile again. "I could really use your support, comrade.”

[china]

Crossing his arms firmly over his chest again, Yao played with the small hem at the end of his sleeve. Eyes narrowed, he couldn’t help but feel the throbbing of a headache coming on. Much like those he got with his siblings, specifically when they acted out of their means and caused trouble for him. True, Ivan was more inclined to say that Yao was giving him trouble; yet the Chinese would simply retort that the USSR was becoming their own worst enemy. Eyebrow twitching slightly, his arms constricted against his torso until it became painfully tight. He had to repress it, push away the feeling that Ivan was staring directly through him. Nothing he was saying got through, that much he could tell by Ivan’s lack of response. At this point, he honestly would have rather had his comrade screaming at him then an apathetic, calming response. It was like Ivan wasn’t taking this seriously.

“Khrushchev seems to be a good leader so far. He must know what he’s doing. Stalin was…” Stalin was what? A good leader, a strong leader—someone who knew how to pick China up from the depths of whatever hell he was sitting in; making him the comrade he was for the USSR today? Scowling, the Asian opened his mouth to snap back at the Russian before he closed it and turned away furiously. “Khrushchev has his reasons for not exactly agreeing with my former boss in all areas.” Groaning under his breath, the elder nation couldn’t agree with Ivan there either. True, under Ivan’s new boss they had grown even tighter economically—at first. Now his boss, Mao Zedong, was making the point that the alliance they made was fraying at the edges. He trusted Ivan, more then any other nation—almost more then his own ‘family’ now. ”Your last boss gave me a chance, Ivan.” Dropping the ‘comrade’ his tone changed from cautious to formal. Knowing that Ivan would understand, even though he wasn’t using their title—he was conversing with him as the revered ‘close friend.’

”And your boss seems so keen on throwing it all away. No matter what my boss says, he is the exact opposite of what we are used to. In China, no one acts like this. They don’t—berate someone who’s given you what you are holding today.” Yao turned his gaze back to Ivan, looking far more distressed now then normal. His eyes hinted below the surface, a mixture of agitation and fear; he did not wish to lose his comrade either. ”Doesn’t it bother you, even a little bit? What if you hadn’t made it through the war without these ideals? Mao knows that, my boss knows that! We owe this to the way things are, and even if our views of communism are different—it works for China. You shouldn’t try to change that, comrade.” His eyes widened slightly, watching the hand raise as his body tensed up in shock. The large hand was resting on top of his head, stroking and patting him as if he were some sort of pet. Normally, the act of affection would have made him feel—awkward; to say the least, but at the moment it was simply uncomfortable. Ivan was trying to make this better, but was going about it in all the wrong ways.

“We won’t be enemies.” Yao hated how he did that—how Ivan somehow drained his frustration with one, innocent little comment. Something that held no malice intent behind it, when he’d imagined it always would. Things would have been so much easier if the Westerner simply treated him like some idiotic pawn. ”Ivan,” sighing out the name; it really held no meaning besides how he was venting his stress on the male stroking his head. When the action was done, Yao looked up and cocked his head slowly to the side. “And I am not going to run out of stamina. Really. I can keep this up forever if I need to, that’s how good the system works. I’m not even starting to tire yet, and I won’t. You just don‘t understand." If only he could have made that an actual promise, how simple Yao’s life could have been. But one couldn’t make promises for the future. Not when everything was so uncertain, not when the USSR was swapping ideals around like an insecure, indecisive puppet state. ”I do understand, Ivan. More then you know, more then you are willing to give me credit for knowing.” Why would Ivan listen? He had half of the world at his beck and call, why would he see beyond such a thing when it was there, right now?

Nothing lasted forever, even nations. Yao had been so close to losing everything, and to imagine that happening to Ivan was—heartbreaking. Why should I care, this is of his own doing! It is none of my responsibility, he is not Asian. He isn’t a part of the East, he is not a part of me.

[/i] But it was still there, festering in the back of his mind. Losing his comrade, losing an ally, losing his friend who had turned out to be nothing like the rest of the world. Nothing he’d ever imagined at least, not since he was about two thousand years younger and closed off from the Western world. It hurt like when it wounded him to take up arms against Kiku; no matter if Ivan was under his sphere of influence or not. He couldn’t afford the same incident happening twice, if the Russian was to be pushed away from China—it would be done. Alliances wouldn’t last. This friendship would not last.

“I’m not rash. And I know I can win and I will. Anything else is out of the question. But I couldn’t win if I did things like you. I need to put all this money into expansion. I have no choice in the matter really. Just think about what would happen if I just sat back and did nothing. America would be the one with all the accomplishments, power and influence.” Yao felt that he’d hit a nerve there, but the response still wasn’t the outright fury he wanted to ignite. If he was able to bring out realization in Ivan, there might have been some sort of verbal assault between the both of them. The Russian still hadn’t raised his voice, or tried to quiet him with insults towards how ‘weak’ he was. ”You are wrong!” Yao instantly rebuked, trying to make his stand and scold the younger nation before his pride got out of hand. ”You think you’ve gotten this far on hard work alone, yes—that is part of it, but not all of it. You can win, you won’t win if you continue down this path.” Stiffening, the spine of the Asian was completely straight as he met those violet eyes head on with his own dark amber. Refusing to look away, Yao kept his lips firmly closed as the male spoke—it still wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

"I didn’t become a great and powerful nation by taking things slow. Only old age comes to those who wait, Yao. You would be stronger too if you would take my advice and put more money into the important things." And there it was, the very thing he did not want to hear. "I could really use your support, comrade.”

Damn you—just…damn you, Ivan Braginski! He couldn’t stop his eyebrows from knitting together, nor could he stop the sharp intake of breath he felt his lungs striving for. How in the name of every Emperor, Empress, and ancestor could he be so utterly infuriated when Ivan said that he really could use his support? It was like a child, pleating with him to stay despite how that same idiotic child was pulling him along one of the most self-destructive paths he’d ever seen. ”I’ve survived this long because of those very morals, Ivan.” Yao’s voice narrowed, calm and acute. Dark eyes growing even darker as he glanced with one of his coldest stares into the awaiting violet orbs that searched for his gaze. ”There is always a catch, life is a catch—I suggest you catch it while you can. You don’t wake up every morning, and conquer the world in ten or twenty years. There is luck, there is time, and there is the world around you—things you can’t ever control. No matter how hard you pull at your reigns,” he uttered.

Sliding his arms from their crossed position again, his hand reached up and tried to touch the cheek of his comrade. Despite their height difference, Yao was able to step on the balls of his feet in order to brush his knuckles over the sharp curve of Ivan’s cheekbone. Pressing up some of the bleached hair behind his ear. ”You think you have all the answers,” he continued slowly, stressing each word in hopes the soviet could hear him. ”You think, deep down, even if I am gone you can do this on your own, don’t you? Maybe you could, but you can’t do it like this. I might be going too slow for your tastes, but it is what my people need. When we are ready, we will take the world by storm, by their rules; then everything be won by playing their game.” His hand retreated from where he’d touched the larger, but younger nation. It felt—odd, like he was stroking Yong Soo’s cheek; different though, as if his hand didn't belong there.

”An alliance is simply that, we can’t be friends; we don’t have the capability to feel such things. We can’t have lovers or even bare to hold grudges, time moves—and we follow. Things change, we change. One day, Ivan, you might have the means to gain whatever you desire—the next, it will all be but dust in your memory.” Yao uttered, turning his back to the male as he walked calmly down towards the throne room. Taking some odd steps, before pausing and glancing back towards the larger, but younger nation. ”The sooner you come to terms with maturity, the easier it will be on you to accept what has to be done to succeed. Even without me,” closing his eyes, Yao quickly turned his head. Not wanting to show that crack of weakness in his traditional mask. No matter the outcome, he had to stay strong. For both their sakes.
[/font][/blockquote]

[Russia]

Yao claimed to understand, but Ivan still had his doubts. If his friend really understood things, then he would surely have the same opinions that Ivan had about these matters. Because by the deranged Russian’s way of thinking, he understood things for what they really were. As many years as his Chinese friend had on him, and as much earthly experience to back up his claims, Ivan still naively believed that he somehow knew better when it came to communism and how things should be ran. Even though he wasn’t more than a small fraction of Yao’s age.

Though Ivan wore the most serene of smiles, he was far from happy. He didn’t like being scolded like some child. He was a great world power after all! This was something that young protonations had to put up with, not powerful nations like himself. Yet, somewhere between his annoyance with being scolded, and Yao’s insistence that he was doing things wrong, Ivan was generally upset that their relations were heading downhill at an alarming rate. He didn’t want to acknowledge this fact, but deep down he knew that he shouldn’t be so quick to assure China that they wouldn’t be enemies. For all he knew, they very well could end up that way soon enough.

”I’ve survived this long because of those very morals, Ivan.”

Ivan was tempted to recoil at the dark stare his friend and ally was giving him. But no, he wasn’t about to show any weakness, especially not in front of an powerful ally like China. He kept his gaze strong and equally as intense as he locked eyes with the other nation. “Times are changing Yao. Those morals won’t save you anymore.” He spoke in barely a whisper, not wanting to rile the other up by adding a harsh bite to his words.

”There is always a catch, life is a catch—I suggest you catch it while you can. You don’t wake up every morning, and conquer the world in ten or twenty years. There is luck, there is time, and there is the world around you—things you can’t ever control. No matter how hard you pull at your reigns.”

But he could conquer the world, and he naively believed that he could do it in as little as five years if he needed to. He had the resources, and more importantly, he had an unmovable will. Where there was a will, there was a was a way. Wasn't that how the saying went? And he firmly believed that so long as he kept to his path and kept toe-to-toe with his rival, than he was invincible.

But China’s words left him with a distressed feeling that a great, self-assured global superpower should not have. Then the other man was reaching up and brushing some of his hair out of his eyes in an affectionate gesture, which did nothing to dull the unpleasant feeling that had surfaced from considering their future relations.

“You think you have all the answers. You think, deep down, even if I am gone you can do this on your own, don’t you? Maybe you could, but you can’t do it like this. I might be going too slow for your tastes, but it is what my people need. When we are ready, we will take the world by storm, by their rules; then everything be won by playing their game.”

“I don’t want to play their game. I want to force them to play mine. I don’t want to do this on my own, comrade. But I can if you insist. I’ll already own the world by the time you are ready to take it by storm.”

”An alliance is simply that, we can’t be friends; we don’t have the capability to feel such things. We can’t have lovers or even bare to hold grudges, time moves—and we follow. Things change, we change. One day, Ivan, you might have the means to gain whatever you desire—the next, it will all be but dust in your memory.”

Even as Yao started off in the direction of the next room, Ivan froze in his tracks in silent horror. How could the older nation say such things? Of course they had feelings. They weren’t just reflections of their people after all. He liked to think they had their own unique sparks that made them able to feel things such as love, hate and friendship. The thought that Yao would even think such a thing horrified him, all the more so because he had thought Yao to be an intelligent and knowing nation about most topics not related to government. He valued the Asian’s opinion.

Feeling markedly depressed, the Russian finally convinced his feet to move again and followed the other nation into the other room. There was an unusual somberness to the usually arrogant and cocky Soviet as he caught up with Yao. “I disagree with you. I think we can feel such emotions.” he tried, more to reassure himself than convince Yao. “We can feel anger and hate. I know that for a fact since I feel that towards America very strongly. And those are kind of like feelings of love and friendship, aren’t they?” He stared hopefully at his friend, but Yao had turned his head away.

“You’re really depressing sometimes, comrade.” The pale blonde informed his companion. “We’re not just an alliance. We’re friends, right? No matter how disagreeable your boss is, I still think of you as a close friend.” Trying to restore his façade of happiness, the Russian patted Yao on the shoulder reassuringly. “I’m mature. And look at all I have accomplished so far, in a small window of time. I’m not the country I was slipping into that last world war you know. Even you have to admit that I am so very close to achieving my goal. Some day I will paint the world red, and I won’t do that by holding back and waiting.”

[china]

H

[/color]ead still turned towards the throne room, he didn’t exactly listen to Ivan’s footsteps as they came to mirror his own. They both seemed solemn, uncertain of the future. As much as Yao hated to admit it, the fear of losing Ivan wasn’t one that was just directed towards his nation. He’d miss the large Soviet on a more personal basis, remembering the moments that the man had been at his side when things felt as if they would fall apart. There were some moments, while fighting Japan, which he swore the undertone of death was crawling up his back. When he had something, someone to fight for—his dedication kept him going. His future would be better, if only he held on a little longer. If he saw to it that the Soviet regime placed communism instead of his Imperialistic government; China might have had the chance to visualize the dawn in means it was meant to be seen. The new page in his history would be worth all of the agony, all of the disappointment and guilt—Yao simply had to withstand a little more.

Ivan had made that bearable for the time being. Even if he was young, and childish—utterly selfless; willing to take Yao down with him. Glancing upwards towards the man, he suffocated the feeling of internal doubt tugging on his heartstrings. He neglected to see a lot of Ivan’s reasoning, and his feelings behind his actions; within Yao’s own mind his reasoning was the best. The USSR had only gotten so far on the basis of what exactly made them stronger within their own eyes. An individual on the outside of this prideful shell would have been able to tell those within of the cracks appearing—if they would listen. Many things blinded men on their road to glory, but Yao had seen the peak of Chinese Imperialism at least twice in his long life span. He’d also seen much of the bottom, been tormented by weakness despite how high and mighty China had been once upon a time. Weakness had no name, no ailment; it appeared at the most opportune time, enjoyed being unannounced too. He knew this. Ivan Braginski did not.

“Times are changing Yao. Those morals won’t save you anymore.” Frowning, the Asian felt his insides contort; displeasure came to him as easily as Ivan. His words wounded the larger man’s pride, but Ivan’s words just as easily hurt his stability. After all, these were the morals that brought him along through the worst moments of history. He’d have not been here, have not met Ivan if it was not for such things. ”Even if they don’t anymore, I cannot abandon them.” This was not pride, Yao reminded himself. It was preserving, keeping what had not changed for many years when so much around him did. A thousand years ago, he had never imagined that he’d meet a nation from the West that would give him the tools he needed to pull himself from the ground up. Believing that there would be someone like that, for him of all people, was but a dream amongst the bitter reality which nations lived.

“I don’t want to play their game. I want to force them to play mine. I don’t want to do this on my own, comrade. But I can if you insist. I’ll already own the world by the time you are ready to take it by storm.” Nodding shallowly, the Asian cocked his head to the side. ”Allow me to rephrase this then: It’s not your game, or their game, Ivan. It’s the game everyone plays, whether you want to play it or not.” Right now, both the USSR and America were playing their game by one another’s rules; but there was also a list of unspoken terms that both adhered too. He didn’t doubt for one second that Ivan believed his rules were supreme, as he envisioned the American admitting the exact same. What he didn’t understand was how Ivan didn’t see the cycle, when he knew the younger nation had been subjected to some of the same torments that he had. Yao found it distasteful, how one so young could have gone through so much grief; while he accepted the fact his ripened age had placed most of the cruelty upon him during his history. His was self-inflicted too. Asia had not had much violence in terms of fighting each other until the West had become too interwoven with Asian politics. Instead, it was more internal—personal.

Sometimes, Yao wondered which was more painful.

”We don’t ever make the rules, Ivan. Sometimes it’s comforting to think we do. There are rules above America and yourself, things that we don’t ever control. It is part of the reason I saw you as a succeeding power. When times are right, when the materials are enough—when you are in favor, yes, you can excel.” Yao crossed his arms slowly, this time much more loosely over his body. Glancing back towards the larger male, he was slightly disturbed to see that look pass over Ivan’s face. Despite how well the other hid his emotions, among other things—there were differences in the body language Yao understood. No matter how Ivan was Western, and he was Eastern; they sometimes mimicked the same motions that alluded to something much more personal. ”I’ll take it when I am ready, and when China is ready. When the rules are all in place, and I am in favor. It will be my turn.” If he even lived that long, Yao subconsciously bantered to himself. He was getting so careless being around Ivan, acting so much more human over then what was expected of him as a nation. He feared what the man could do to him, not physically—but mentally. He was strong, but what Ivan offered was so tempting; just to feel like nothing rested on his shoulders for one simple moment.

“I disagree with you. I think we can feel such emotions.” Startling slightly, Yao was speechless that this of all things bothered Ivan. They were talking about Ivan’s future as a nation, and the man was more worried about his feelings? “We can feel anger and hate. I know that for a fact since I feel that towards America very strongly. And those are kind of like feelings of love and friendship, aren’t they?” Letting out a soft sigh between his lips, the shoulders of the elder nation fell just slightly. He didn’t think too much about hate, considering that emotion was earned over actions done to the nation over time. ”Emotions are fleeting things, Ivan. They are for people who are fleeting too, who won’t be here forever. That’s why we don’t have them, truly. We will last until we crumble, and no one ever knows how long that will be.” Yao finally turned his head to listen to the man as he spoke. Noticing how displeased he was at the Asian’s spear into his mentality. Ivan had someone to love, someone to hate—that much Wang Yao could sympathize with. He, on the other hand, might as well have thrown all of his cards into the pile. Waiting for time to fish out his new hand, no matter how unfavorable it could be.

”How many years will you hate him, how many years will you love? How many that your family is together? How many until everything falls apart? Time does change, and we do too. Our relations change, and sometimes it is best to come to terms that we aren’t able to have that stability. Hate or love, alliance or friendship.” His hand moved to touch over Ivan’s hand, which had taken perch on his shoulder. “You’re really depressing sometimes, comrade. We’re not just an alliance. We’re friends, right? No matter how disagreeable your boss is, I still think of you as a close friend.” Flustering, the elder nation tried to shove the hand off. Once, he had considered holding it tightly. Believing those words, but he knew it was impossible. He couldn’t, he shouldn’t, and he wouldn’t. ”Stop saying that, my boss is not disagreeable.” Turning his head with an angry snap, the Asian seemed to lose most of his patience with the other nation. If Ivan was going to leave, then he would see to it that the man got a handful of his mind shoved down his throat before he did. At least then he’d be certain something got through that thick skull, despite how narrow it was at the moment.

”How long will I be your friend, how long will it take for you to grow to hate me too, if it comes down to that?” It hurt, so much to think of that. To see the man who aided him, on the opposite side—loathing his existence or admitting that saving Yao’s country had been an utter waste of time. He’d been in such positions before, but nothing quite like this; not when the world power beside him seemed to want Yao to say something along the lines of sweet confessions; that they would remain friends forever. “I’m mature. And look at all I have accomplished so far, in a small window of time. I’m not the country I was slipping into that last world war you know. Even you have to admit that I am so very close to achieving my goal. Some day I will paint the world red, and I won’t do that by holding back and waiting.”¬ Yao’s eyes narrowed, biting his lip just slightly as his eyes closed. He couldn’t say it, as much as he wanted to vocalize that he wanted to be Ivan’s ally and friend for as long as possible. But this was not how that worked. Hand moving to touch his forehead, the Asian pressed against the wall for a moment and looked directly at the ground.

”Then maybe you should, because I would much rather hold you back and have you loathe me—then have you disappear over something so idiotic. Being close doesn’t mean victory will be yours Ivan, the thing you chase so feverishly will be your undoing if you allow it.” This conversation was shattering ever bit of self control he had over one knee, the elder nation couldn’t bring himself anymore to look Ivan in the eyes. Instead, he avoided it like the plague. He’d allow Ivan to wander around if he wished, but the Asian had no desire any longer to stay in the Forbidden City. Everything here was dead, hollow, and held no meaning towards China; not anymore since the communist regime took root. To imagine you dead, gone and disappearing from this world—it’s something I cannot do—why does it haunt me so ruthlessly? Feeling insecure, Yao continued to hold his hands over his chest and only spoke when he was certain that Ivan was finished with this bickering.

”Will you be staying for the night, or are you leaving for Moscow now that the meeting is done?”

[/font][/blockquote]

[Russia]

”Emotions are fleeting things, Ivan. They are for people who are fleeting too, who won’t be here forever. That’s why we don’t have them, truly. We will last until we crumble, and no one ever knows how long that will be.”

Over all the conversation they had had thus far, those words stuck out in the blonde’s mind the strongest. He wasn’t even entirely sure himself why he found them to be so distressing, but the fact remained that the idea that nations had no emotions and couldn’t feel or understand concepts like love and friendship bothered him. It bothered him far more than being told he was rash and destined to fail if he continued along the path he was currently on. It bothered him even more than the idea that Yao might become an enemy in the not so distant future. At least if nations were capable of their own set of emotions, then they wouldn’t have to be the most bitter kind of enemies. Enemies by paper and politics were one thing, but enemies fueled only by their people’s rage and disagreements was something else entirely.

It was silly that such a thing would get under his skin like that. By all means, Russia was not an overly sappy, emotional nation. If anything, at times he could be the complete opposite. He had no problems with putting emotions aside to punish his servants for instance. Though he was terribly fond of Lithuania, he was not above beating his subordinate into a bloody mess over the slightest mistakes the other might make. Under orders he had even killed his own people-something that sounded atrocious for a nation to do- and had not felt any remorse or guilt about it. With such black marks on his record, why then would China’s words concerning nations and their lack of feelings bother him? Perhaps it was because he clearly had very strong emotional connections to some things, and did not want to think that those emotions were all false; that they were just something he felt because his people felt them.

”Stop saying that, my boss is not disagreeable. How long will I be your friend, how long will it take for you to grow to hate me too, if it comes down to that?”

Yao’s tone had went from more cold an distant to suddenly sounding rather angry, and he shoved Ivan’s hand off his shoulder rather forcefully. The shift in demeanor put the Russian on edge, and it was becoming scarily more easy to imagine Yao as a future enemy-something that would have not been so easy to imagine back in the war, when they had been fighting back to back. The aggression and defensiveness that Ivan usually never felt around his Chinese comrade was starting to take hold, and he was becoming more and more irritated with what he saw as his friend’s lack of understanding. Masking his emotions with a smile, he studied Yao intensely as the other man leaned against the wall, hand to his head.

Had Toris been so disagreeable and insisted on such things, Ivan would have wasted no time in striking the Baltic hard across the face. The same could be said for any of his subordinates really. But China was not one Russia’s subordinate nations, for all their formerly close ties. Ivan did not view himself as owning or controlling Yao, and knew he was in no position to strike out at his ally. He may not have been at all happy with what the other was saying, but he did not want to sour relations more by getting aggressive and trying to force the other man to see things from his viewpoint.

”Then maybe you should, because I would much rather hold you back and have you loathe me—then have you disappear over something so idiotic. Being close doesn’t mean victory will be yours Ivan, the thing you chase so feverishly will be your undoing if you allow it.”

On the surface, Ivan was sure that China was wrong about that. But there was something unsettling about Yao’s words. Something that made the Russian momentarily question his own ideas about his bright and shiny future. He was hauntingly reminded that there was usually wisdom in China’s words, and that the other nation had lived a long time. Longer than any other nation he knew of that still survived to their modern day. He couldn’t have gotten so far by being wrong in his ideas often…A hint of worry shadowed his usually calm and happy expression, chasing away his smile. He was quick to attempt and shake the effects of the words away. No. Yao was wrong this time. He had to be.

The other nation’s words also held some compassion to them, even if Yao denied being able to feel such emotions. He didn’t seem to want anything bad to happen to Ivan, and that fact drowned out some of the Russian’s former aggression. It was hard to be mad at someone who appeared to only want to help and offer advice, even if he was certain that Yao had to be wrong.

“You’re wrong, Comrade. You have to be.” he finally informed the other nation softly. “I will achieve my goals one way or another, and then you’ll see that I was right and for once you were the one who was wrong.” A spark of his usual fire returned to his gaze, as he examined Yao’s handsomely exotic, eternally youthful features.

”Will you be staying for the night, or are you leaving for Moscow now that the meeting is done?”

“I would like to stay. I have spent enough time on a plane recently, and would like a break before having to get back on one.” Moscow was a ways away, and he internally cringed at the idea of another long plane ride so soon. In what he hoped was a friendly, reassuring gesture, Ivan swung an arm around Yao’s shoulders.

“It will be alright, Yao Wang.” he stumbled over the pronunciation of his ally’s exceptionally foreign sounding last name. “You’ll see. You are so very clever, my friend, and I value your opinions as always, but in this case I think you are dead wrong in your doom and gloom assumptions. I’m stronger than you must think, and I may be young next to you, but you don’t need to worry about me vanishing over something like this.” His words were cheerful, for all their naïve defiance.

Ivan was never exceptionally good with conveying his thoughts and feelings through words, and now was no different. He wanted to attempt and keep China as a friend, but he was not ready to openly admit that the other man had sown a few seeds of doubt in his turbulent mind. He wanted to cling to his ideas stubbornly. After all, if he started doubting himself, wouldn’t that lead to more doubt in his borders? And that would be disastrous for his plans of communistic dominance. It was when people started to doubt the system in mass that problems arose and governments faced the threat of collapse. Hadn’t that happened back in 1918? He had lost faith in his Tsar, and his people had followed suit. There were already people who lacked faith in communism in his borders, he didn’t want to start inadvertently causing more doubt.
_________________________
((Apologies for the fail post, China. I've been sick and disoriented today, and that surely is reflected in this. I will do better next time. ~))

[china]

He was never so sure of anything involving the western nation then one thing, right now. Yao honestly wanted to strike Ivan, very hard—and preferably across the face. Damn him for making such a personal conversation out of this, and damn everything he said that took his words and completely tossed them in the garbage. It was like talking to a wall, but worse—considering this man had ears, and could easily come to take his advice for the better of the USSR. His eyebrow flinched again, and the ancient nation closed his eyes fully to take some time; inhaling slowly and holding his breath for at least ten seconds prior to exhaling. Meditation helped soothe the rage that built inside of him, including that what stemmed from frustration that Ivan never listened, despite when he said he did. This was not the direction he wanted to take the conversation, and now he felt as if Ivan was grasping the less important aspect of it; blowing it up as if emotions mattered more then Ivan disappearing out of his own stubborn self-imposed stupidity. Deep breaths, he reminded himself; keeping rhythm as his eyelids fluttered open to find Ivan staring directly at him.

The look Ivan was giving him seemed evasive, as if he wanted to say something towards what Yao had offered in the conversation. Those violet eyes were a turbulent mixture of thoughts, and the Asian had no clue where one thread of Ivan’s thoughts began or where they ended. The westerner was a puzzle to him, and that was one characteristic that intrigued him as much as it made him want to dismiss him outright. Sometimes he wondered if Ivan Braginski was worth his effort, or if the USSR was; the more they spoke, the closer they became—it was becoming far more complex to distinguish Ivan simply as the nation he was meant to represent. There were moments that Yao felt his friend was compassionate, interested in what he had to say; what he could gain from mutual friendship. The alliance was not forced, although back then it had been China’s best interest to get acquainted with his northern neighbor; Yao was free to walk away when he desired. If Ivan wanted him to stay, the man would have to struggle to keep the Yao’s worst enemy out of their friendship. Yao’s predominant fear of anything outside of China; his very ideal that Ivan was untrustworthy, a cheater and liar—a man who did not belong at his side.

His dark amber eyes calmed, losing some of their bite the longer Ivan seemed to stay silent. He regretted when he lashed out, and hated it even more that he believed what he’d said was the truth. It was as if he took Ivan’s one comfort and broke it in his hands. Although they never spoke of it, Yao always assumed that the larger Soviet felt as if he’d fallen in love before. It was selfish of them, believing that they could be graced with the same pleasure that humans were presented with. He never saw love blossoming between two nations; not when they were forced to live and endure so much within their life time. Yao had seen the death of some, and the birth of others; he’d watched as they grew close, formed alliances, and played their lives out like the humans that surrounded and created them. Time had other plans. Alliances shattered, nations perished, hate and jealousy poisoned them; things that no one had control over would come to light, and then everything was simply gone. It was like catching the wind; no matter how hard or light one grasped their hands, it slipped delicately through the fingers. Maybe it was there, perhaps Ivan was right to assume that such a thing could exist between nations—but even so, it probably was impossible to ever fully grasp.

“You’re wrong, Comrade. You have to be.” Yao’s lips parted slightly with a sigh, his eyes still staying level with Ivan’s amethyst gaze. ”I wish I wasn’t, but I know I am.” He answered with the same softness, although it was quickly dismissed by Ivan’s following comment. “I will achieve my goals one way or another, and then you’ll see that I was right and for once you were the one who was wrong.” Frowning, the Asian narrowed his eyes. He wanted to believe that Ivan said was true, that he would win and show him the error of his assumptions. Yet, he honestly didn’t believe that this would happen; also, Yao couldn’t say he favored Ivan’s tone with him. ”You say that, but you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said. You’re not going to change, and that’s by your own doing. Even great nations have to take the time to admit their weaknesses, or they won’t stand when the time comes for them to blossom.” Speaking smoothly, Yao blinked when the man called him by his full name—it’d been some time.

“It will be alright, Yao Wang.” His stare intensified; reacting to his full name being spoken and expecting something serious or stern to come from Ivan’s mouth. Something that hinted into the fact what he’d said finally took root inside that thick skull. “You’ll see. You are so very clever, my friend, and I value your opinions as always, but in this case I think you are dead wrong in your doom and gloom assumptions. I’m stronger than you must think, and I may be young next to you, but you don’t need to worry about me vanishing over something like this.” Yao’s shoulders shifted, Ivan’s hand and arm were heavy—larger then what he’d ever been used to. One of the man’s palms could easily cup one of his shoulders, but even if he was significantly smaller then the nation; his voice was loud enough to be heard. And he would be heard. His stare hardened, almost to the consistency of become stone; utterly unshakable. ”Don’t talk to me about vanishing, Ivan Braginski. You know nothing about it, have you ever seen one of us completely disappear?” He pushed off that intrusive arm, managing to somehow squirm away from the pressure of having Ivan so close. Instead, the elder man shifted and stopped in front of the soviet directly. Glancing up, and trying to lock their gazes together.

”It doesn’t matter how strong you are today, or how strong you can be tomorrow. I’m not doubting that! I’m telling you, if you continue acting the way you do—there will be no one there to save you, Ivan.” Not even Yao could promise that, but the stern monotone of his voice was coated in apathy. He didn’t need the other man to know how much the image of him gone would rip at his conscious; among other things. Maybe he could have done something about it, perhaps Ivan could change—could see the truth in what Yao was saying. Even if he didn’t agree with the idea of their emotions, even if he had a point that Yao would not be saying any of this if he didn’t care for the other nation on some level. ”If you want to be a leader,” Yao began with a snap, his dark amber orbs darkening just slightly with the seriousness of his tone. ”Stop placing on that child’s mask, Ivan. I would like to think I know you better then that—to know what you and I have gone through over the years.” Yao’s chest slightly picked up, his breathing beginning to deepen on instinct to keep his heart from beating too fast with restrained emotion, the stress of being in this situation was harmful. ”Act like the man you are, and I will respect and follow you. I will not follow this child, I will not coddle a child, playing to be the world power. I’ve lived long enough to see the rise and fall of powerful civilizations; so far you have not come close to such expectations.”

The world needed someone who wasn’t as selfish as Ivan, whom only seemed to be playing this game to prove to himself and the world that he could be something. That something, Yao wasn’t sure Ivan even knew what that took the form of. Their future was bleak, even though Yao so wanted the man to succeed, he was plagued with doubts. ”I am sorry,” he said after what felt like a prolonged silence. ”I didn’t mean to say it like that, I---“ Yao’s lips quickly sealed together, stopping his ramble. Thinking over what he wanted to say, but imposed what he needed to say before that. ” I don’t know what came over me. It must be old age,” giving an almost shaky smile; there was still doubt buried inside of him. He did mean to apologize, but the truth of what he said lingered.

Ivan was not ready, and Yao wouldn’t be there until he was. No matter how much he cared for him, or—wanted to care for him. The wall the Asian had begun to build between them both was taking formation; he feared Ivan would not see it until such a realization was too late.

”I’m glad you are staying the night,” Yao calmly confirmed—moving forward just slightly, and stiffening before he relaxed and pushed forward. His arms wrapped around Ivan’s midsection, and the Asian’s head pressed against the soft fabric of the coat with his cheek. ”I’ve missed your company, even if it’s bickering.” He began to shift, ready to pull away as his head pivoted to glance up towards Ivan—hoping he hadn’t taken the sudden hold negatively.

[/blockquote]









~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

((Pppfft, was not a fail post you liar. This one is a fail post! 8'D

Feel better, don't push yourself so hard. You know I can wait, especially when I have this paper raping my brain. ;A; ))

[Russia]

The Asian nation shifted his shoulders under Ivan’s grasp, and the Russian briefly wondered if it was out of annoyance with being grabbed. Friends did things like that right? They grabbed onto each other as small signs of affection? Ivan had seen it done within his own borders on occasion, but was not sure if they did such things in China’s home. He knew relatively little about his friend’s people and culture, having never taken the time to learn more than a few basics. It was so different from his own culture. So confusing and foreign.

”Don’t talk to me about vanishing, Ivan Braginski. You know nothing about it, have you ever seen one of us completely disappear?”

His gaze met Yao’s for a moment, and he was certain that his friend must have been shifting in annoyance. China had a very harsh gaze; not at all amicable or understanding. Ivan was about to move his arm off on his own accord, when the other nation shoved it off first. And then Yao was right in front of him, looking straight into his eyes as though trying to petrify the Soviet with his gaze.

“No.” Ivan admitted in response to China’s question. Nations did not die and vanish easily. The countries he knew and was familiar with were all pretty much the same ones he had always remembered seeing. Russia was not nearly as old as nations like Yao, France or England. He couldn’t recall anything about the nations that came before him and ruled his lands before they disappeared, and he had not witnessed firsthand when Prussia had vanished not long after the last world war. “But death and destruction is for weaker nations. Not me. I’m too strong for that.”

”It doesn’t matter how strong you are today, or how strong you can be tomorrow. I’m not doubting that! I’m telling you, if you continue acting the way you do—there will be no one there to save you, Ivan.”

I don’t need anyone to save me. I don’t need help, not even from you. If you won’t be there to back me up, I’ll still manage just fine. He held Yao’s gaze steadily, not looking away from the other’s amber eyes for even a moment. The other must have secretly doubted his strength to be so concerned with the possibility of him vanishing. Why Yao would be so concerned was beyond his understanding though. The other nation was not nearly as friendly as he used to be towards Russia, and he wondered why Yao was bothering to try and tell him all of this. China could surely stand on its own now, so why would Yao feel pressured to drag Ivan out into this quiet old city for this chat? If he thought this way, why not just let Ivan walk blindly to his death? Yao might even be able to claim a chunk of Russia’s land for himself if such a thing happened. Not that Ivan believed it would happen of course, but if Yao suspected this, then he was behaving in a way that conflicted with his actions and voice tone. It was puzzling to the blonde.

At the mention of wearing a child’s mask the Russian gave a slight huff of annoyance. He was not wearing a child’s mask. Not as far as he knew. Leave it to such an older nation to find the actions of someone much younger to be “child-like.” Ivan saw nothing child-like at all in his actions and the way he was currently handling things. He saw himself as acting the proud, powerful and dominant nation that he was. No one else claimed he was acting childish either-no one, but China. He ignored the fact that he spent most of his time around the subordinate Soviets, who wouldn’t dare say anything bad about him in his presence, no matter how true. And of course, Alfred wouldn’t claim Ivan to be childish. He acted in a very similar manner concerning world affairs. It was why he and Ivan constantly found themselves with guns at each other’s heads.

”Act like the man you are, and I will respect and follow you. I will not follow this child, I will not coddle a child, playing to be the world power. I’ve lived long enough to see the rise and fall of powerful civilizations; so far you have not come close to such expectations.”

The words stung, and did a better job wounding the Russian than any bullet could. Violet eyes narrowed in annoyance and hurt. He had been thoroughly insulted on so many levels. Ivan did not see himself as playing at anything. He was a world power and he was far from being a child. If sitting back and doing nothing was “mature” however, than Ivan figured he should have been happy to have been called a child. But there he had heard it…confirmation that Yao was not planning on backing up any of the Union’s decisions or actions. China would not offer any help in the future, even if Russia did eventually need it. The Asian would not follow his lead.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, and Russia figured that nothing more needed to be said. Forcing back the urge to attack his elder, Ivan looked away from China and studied his surroundings, wondering how to go about leaving the city.

”I am sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that, I--- I don’t know what came over me. It must be old age.”

But the damage was done, and Russia was not about to forget those words or write them off as a product of old age on Yao‘s part. Even the sign of a smile on his comrade’s face did nothing to heal the damage to his sense of pride and their friendship. He had managed to keep his characteristic smile somehow, despite the insult, but his eyes held none of their former curiosity and spark. He was no longer interested in the city’s details and sights.

”I’m glad you are staying the night.”

The sudden feeling of arms around his waist made the Russian nearly lash out in surprise. After the aggressive exchange earlier, he had no idea what to think about being grabbed by his ally. Flinching slightly, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to use the close proximity to his advantage and punch the other man as hard as he could in the face, or if he wanted to just let it all slide and simply avoid future visits.

”I’ve missed your company, even if it’s bickering.”

Completely and utterly taken aback and confused, the Russian’s eyes widened. Reaching down he patted the Asian on the head. “I thought you said you didn’t want to coddle a “child,” Comrade.” he stated simply, not sure how to handle the situation. “You say one thing and then do something else. You may not have meant to say it like that, but your point is well taken with those words. At least… part of it is. I disagree with your views about me, but you already must know that, and no amount of arguing my point is going to change those views.”

Deciding against stirring their relations up more with violence the only other sensible thing to do by his warped reasoning was to scoop the smaller man into a awkward hug momentarily. He now understood part of why he never wanted to visit Yao much these days. He had suspected that the other held such views, even if he had not voiced them as aggressively before today. Releasing China, Ivan stared off into space thoughtfully. “I don’t like these discussions Comrade, and I insist we avoid these topics in the future. I will never be “mature” by your reasoning, because you and I have different ideas about maturity. I will never agree with your views and I doubt you’ll ever agree with mine, so arguing is pointless. We should be content to enjoy our moments of still being allies while we can I think. You never know when friends will decide to change on you.”

[china]

H

[/color]e was disappointed in himself. A part of his subconscious understood that his people, his leader, and even himself were beginning to get fed up with the USSR. That didn’t mean, however, that Yao meant to attack his friend on what felt like a personal level. It needed to be said, that was no mistake—but how he chose to confront the issue was quite rough. He’d never been the type of man, or parental figure to sugar coat what lay in the truth; with the world full of enough lies already, it was clear to him that honesty could be more productive. Even if it hurt, even if Ivan hit him—he would have accepted it. Granted, Ivan wouldn’t have gotten out of his sight until he’d gotten a few shots at the soviet; but it was in Yao’s best interest to take responsibility for the emotional turmoil he caused others. Some men hid from their destiny, and others embraced it. It was those who met it, good or bad, that changed the world. Sometimes, it meant losing the ones that you held precious—and other times it meant losing life. Whether the children of the nation paid the price, or the nation itself.

Still, he did felt guilty over what an apology couldn’t fix. Once words were said, the difficulty of repairing the damage became extensive. Some men forgot, or simply shrugged off criticism; Ivan on the other hand seemed hurt. It was an emotional response, not present on the male’s face, but within those violet eyes. If Yao had not been so observant, the hint of damage might have gone undetected. Living with Japan for over one thousand years, however, had piqued his senses to the level of phenomenal properties. Speaking with a man that had the outward emotional response of say—a rock—had aided the Chinese in gaining more experience towards those that were naturally introverted. While it might have been wrong to assume that Ivan was such, the elder nation took the time to take every motion his comrade made into question. There were always other means as to body language, and through another’s eyes one could sometimes feel the loss or gain of personal sentiment. It hurt Wang Yao to wound Ivan Braginski, even if the methods were in the younger nation’s best interest; what possibly could be worse then disappearing forever?

Yao would have been alone then. He still might be, and quite possibly would be—now that he saw their alliance as nations coming undone. There was little left of Asia now, with Japan under the intense care, and eyes of America. He’d let go of everything that wasn’t his mainland. The Middle Kingdom’s reign had come to an end, and while he never attempted to impose he was surprised how simply he had released his grip. China mattered, Wang Yao mattered—he’d been isolated, and utterly alone for two thousand years of his life prior to meeting any other nations. His history was so long, and he was so old that it was impossible to remember the first few decades of his life. Even the first few hundred years, when he had no prior existing knowledge of who he was—what he was; why he even existed was a mystery. He no longer could recall his first Emperor’s face, nor the scent of burning cedar wood as his Emperor’s Kingdom was burnt down to the ground for the very first time by the Mongols. All he could remember was a voice from within, telling him that even though he looked like a child—felt like one; there was no need to weep.

His cities would burn, and he would burn; Wang Yao would feel agony.

But he wouldn’t perish. Not until his time to die came, and in four thousand years; it still had not come.

Yao’s dark amber eyes darkened, though this time it seemed he bordered genuine sympathy as well as sorrow. “But death and destruction is for weaker nations. Not me. I’m too strong for that.” His lips upturned slightly, trying to smile at his friend with as much hope for him as he could muster. He did want Ivan to win, and he did want the nation to succeed in what dreams he pursued. Ivan was almost like a child, and although not an ‘offspring’ of East Asia; he invoked a sort of compassion that bordered Yao’s desire to support him in whatever way possible. ”You have not seen what I have seen, comrade. Everyone falls, everyone stumbles—the only way you can avoid it is if you don’t have feet.” He meant to say it more symbolically, that Ivan and himself couldn’t help but stumbling down. He’d fallen so many times, and reverted his cycle over again as to climb back from the never-ending circle China was caught within; his comrade was too stubborn to even acknowledge the future from outside his limited, arrogant views.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to coddle a “child,” Comrade.” Yao had to laugh at that, it was slightly true. After what he had said, his embrace seemed odd—but it felt oddly natural to do. In China, he did not have much chance to give anyone a hug, the last time he remembered doing so was around his siblings in—happier times. In fact, Yao mostly avoided physical contact, specifically after the bodily pain he’d undergone in World War II at Japan’s hands. His laughter, however, wasn’t cruel or darkened; instead it mimicked the sound of wind delicately brushing against chimes. Light, as if alluding to his frivolous amusement. “You say one thing and then do something else. You may not have meant to say it like that, but your point is well taken with those words. At least… part of it is. I disagree with your views about me, but you already must know that, and no amount of arguing my point is going to change those views.” Shaking his head, the nation muffled his amusement at how Ivan reacted to his hug; glancing up and cocking his head to the side. Lips parting, the ancient nation looked mildly confused—as if trying to fathom how he was being a hypocrite.

”This is what friends do, isn’t it? I thought—your people were more accustomed to such actions. I’m sorry, I—didn’t know.” Frowning with the sudden downturn of their conversation, his arms loosened and let go of Ivan, not wanting the male to lash out because of this. ”You are right, I should have learned this from what’s happened in the past. My views should only matter to me, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to say something, even if it came out in an inappropriate way—which I apologize for, comrade. I’m not going to ‘coddle’ you, I believe you’ve proven enough to me that you don’t need me.” He wanted to stay, and inside his repressed selfish heart—desired to be needed. Yao was a glorious partner, and while he was difficult to get along with; he was wise, understanding, and protective. Possibly too much, since giving advice to Ivan came out as vicious over helpful. ”You are strong, proud—and you have been good to China. I’m honored to call you my ally, Ivan. I’m—grateful that you are my friend.” Swallowing his pride, the Asian nation turned his head away to hide the look of softness coming over his features. His chest felt like it was being squeezed, contorted up and demanding Yao’s attention; urging the elder nation to say something that would stay with Ivan even if China and the USSR went separate ways.

He was just about ready to speak once more when the soviet literally grasped him in a hug. Yao’s eyes snapped open, widening as his jaw tightened up in utter shock. It felt like his feet were being pulled from the stability of the ground, and the Chinese began to squirm; searching for something to latch onto incase he fell. ”A-Aiyah!” He’d never been hugged by someone larger then him, at least in this respect. His hands instantly grabbed onto the soviet’s shoulders, eyes still wide and uncertain as to what was happening. Broad, almost like grasping solid rock covered in soft plush. The scent of—something lingered on Ivan’s outfit; Yao assumed it was the aroma of fresh snow, although that was hard to pinpoint. What was that supposed to smell like? It just—held an oddly crisp, light, but completely cold sensation lingering in his nose as well as his mind.

The soviet released him soon enough, which was probably wise considering Yao had almost forgotten how to breathe. Embracing someone Ivan’s size made him feel--petite. Shaking his head, Yao was speechless as he glanced at the soviet as he spoke to him. “I don’t like these discussions Comrade, and I insist we avoid these topics in the future. I will never be “mature” by your reasoning, because you and I have different ideas about maturity. I will never agree with your views and I doubt you’ll ever agree with mine, so arguing is pointless. We should be content to enjoy our moments of still being allies while we can I think. You never know when friends will decide to change on you.” Nodding, still somewhat muddled; Yao shifted his hand towards his temples. How—how awkward! Getting used to this will take more practice then I thought. I—how am I supposed to respond? Does this mean he forgives me? It seems so unexpected, but perhaps he really does see that I mean well.[/i]

”I—yes, comrade. We are different, you are correct.” He no longer bothered with explaining himself. Ivan was right, there was no need to argue. They would go around in circles, with Ivan being so stubborn as to not listen to his elder. He’d come to expect that, though, in all honesty. His siblings didn’t do it, how could be expect Ivan to? Sometimes, I think I am the only one with functioning ears.[/i] He’d been a horrible example today, and with the topic now swapped from visiting the Forbidden City; Yao attempted to salvage their time together, as well as their breaking alliance. ”I’ve been a horrible host today, Ivan—I am truly sorry. Please, stay with me tonight, we can stay up and talk about your plans. I will not say anything against them, I just wish to hear you speak to me.” Maybe, with time, he would come to understand Ivan’s views on such things. The more the younger world power spoke to him, perhaps the more they would share with one another, and then Yao could accept the USSR’s ideals for what potential Ivan saw in them. ”I have an estate near here, when my Emperor wanted me close—when I had an Emperor, I mean. If you would like to accompany me, you are more then welcome. If not, I understand.” Shifting, the ancient nation began to lead Ivan out of the Forbidden City; knowing the bitterness there would only sour his mood further the longer they stayed.

Pausing mid-step as they came to the large, (normally sealed) gates; Yao bowed his head and pushed his lips together in one thin, tight line. ”Ivan,” he began in an almost inaudible tone. ”No matter what China decides to do, I want you to know that I will always—be appreciative for what you have done for me. If it were my choice, I would never leave you. I am in your debt, I—don’t know what to say besides—thank you. Thank you, Ivan.” He wanted to make eye contact while actually saying that, he could at least be open about this if he could just as easily critique his friend. This was far more difficult, considering how he’d trained himself to be mistrustful of foreigners; he kept on glancing away as if too timid or too concerned to meet Ivan’s gaze.

”If either you or I disappear after we split an alliance, whenever that may be, and we don’t have another chance—well, I just wanted you to know.”
[/font][/blockquote]









~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
((OoC: ....This Post. /shoots self. I'm so sorry, Iv. I felt like I had an idea for what I wanted to say, but it just kinda skidded all over the place like an ADD driver on an iced road. Bleh.))

[Russia]

”This is what friends do, isn’t it? I thought—your people were more accustomed to such actions. I’m sorry, I—didn’t know.”

The stocky blonde had been tempted to tell Yao that he was correct in thinking that they were accustomed to such actions. Though his people frowned on such things in public, it was not strange or awkward to hug in a private location. Which, the Forbidden City seemed to be, since it was only them there. It was the fact that it had been Yao to hug him first that had surprised him-not the hug itself. He had been about to inform his friend about this, but then Yao released him and he simply let the issue go.

The words that came afterwards succeeded in calming the volatile Russian down. Yao was right, he didn’t need him. But he wanted to remain friends as long as he could. They were comrades after all, and those were hard to find in a world that seemed to be overwhelmed by capitalistic swine. Though there were a few other communist nations out there, he and China stood out from the rest, and went well together. They had been good, strong allies since the war, and the blonde didn’t really want that to go away anytime soon.

”You are strong, proud—and you have been good to China. I’m honored to call you my ally, Ivan. I’m—grateful that you are my friend.”

The words still played over in his head, even though he had since released Yao from his crushing hug. It was strange how a few words could so easily lighten the large nation’s mood. They pushed back the growing doubt concerning their recent relations, even if only temporarily. Never one to get overly emotional and saccharine about these things, Ivan was content to silently smile at his comrade, watching the Asian nation rub his fingers against his temple.

”I—yes, comrade. We are different, you are correct.”

Did that mean that Yao was finally realizing that what Ivan had been saying was nothing but the truth? Ivan wanted that to be the case, so he was all too happy to take the words to mean that he had convinced his friend on all aspects of their argument. Shoving the possibility that Yao had only meant the statement to apply to his most recent words, Ivan studied his friend with an air of confidence and triumph.

”I’ve been a horrible host today, Ivan—I am truly sorry. Please, stay with me tonight, we can stay up and talk about your plans. I will not say anything against them, I just wish to hear you speak to me.”

Of course how could China say anything against his plans when they were so well thought out and effective? Now that his Chinese companion was willing to listen, he was sure that he could make the other man see the sense in his leader’s plans for the USSR. The problem had been getting Yao to listen, but now that he seemed open to the idea, what could go wrong? The only sensible thing for China to do would be to agree with his plans and offer support to them. China might even be able to convince his difficult leader of the ideas too. Which was an encouraging thought.

”I have an estate near here, when my Emperor wanted me close—when I had an Emperor, I mean. If you would like to accompany me, you are more then welcome. If not, I understand.”

“Да, I would like that, Comrade Wang.” Tripping over the strange “w” sound in his friend’s last name, Ivan patted the other nation on the shoulder.

Yao started to head back towards the gates to the Forbidden City, and Russia followed his lead closely. The imperial city was located within the larger city of Beijing, and the tall, stocky Russian did not want to risk losing sight of Yao and getting lost once they had left the gates. He didn’t know much Chinese, and found the city to be dizzying with the number of people in it. Beijing was bigger than Moscow, and more densely populated. He also felt no connection to the city, which meant he had no idea where things were at and how to go about finding them.

China stopped abruptly in front of the gates, and Ivan watched curiously as he bowed his head. Was he praying to the gates? Was this a Chinese custom? Ivan wondered briefly if Yao expected him to pray to the gates as well. It seemed silly to him; he could see maybe praying to a flower or something, but a gate? Gates weren’t even living.

”Ivan.”

The other man’s words were quiet, and the Russian stared at him in puzzlement, wondering if now he was going to tell him the significance of having his head bowed. He expected there to be a Chinese story behind it.

”No matter what China decides to do, I want you to know that I will always—be appreciative for what you have done for me. If it were my choice, I would never leave you. I am in your debt, I—don’t know what to say besides—thank you. Thank you, Ivan.”

Violet eyes fixed on Yao as Ivan considered how to take such thanks. It was good to know that his efforts and aid had been so deeply appreciated, but having so rarely received thanks for anything he did, he was unsure as to how to reply. Should he say something back? Or maybe just smile and nod? The second option seemed the most appealing, but before he could follow through with it, Yao was speaking again.

“If either you or I disappear after we split an alliance, whenever that may be, and we don’t have another chance—well, I just wanted you to know.”

“Comrade…we might not split in alliance at all. Maybe the next meetings between our leaders will go better?” He gave Yao a hopeful look. “We may not be able to control these things, being nations and all, but we can always hope for the best, Да?”

“I am glad you are my friend and ally, China. I really am, even if I don’t always understand you. You’re an interesting country, and a good ally to have in wars.” He went quiet for a moment, waiting for China to open the gate and lead them out of the city.

“I won’t be intruding on your privacy by staying with you? Don’t you Asian nations prefer your solitude and seclusion?” It was a far cry from Ivan, if such a thing were true. He preferred to have company at his house.