[ o52; ]

[degrees]

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I have no idea why but I'm really really reeeeeeeeeally grumpy right now.

Like, hate almost everyone even if I like you grumpy.

MAYBE I SHOULD GO BACK TO BED AND NOT INTERACT WITH ANYONE TODAY.

D:

Later when I'm less inclined to rip someone's head off I might post some music downloads. Any requests?

Comments

[atomais]

"Always"

It had been fifteen years since World War Two, but Raivis was still drawn to the empty, cold planning room. Maps continued to litter the desks, books open to test war plans. The small boy wandered over, running his finger along the small, pale green line that was the border between Latvia and Russia. He could have sworn he felt his own finger, a shiver running down his small spine as he moves to press against his capital - his Riga. It seemed like forever since he'd sat alone in his little room, the daises outside sending in a soft scent that aided his sleep. It had been a long time since he was home.

He turned from the map and walked over to the window, pressing his fingers against the cool glass. It was cold, always cold (for this was Russia, and Russia had lost all warmth years ago) and Raivis sighed. His breath painted the window white, and his finger drew a line, a replica of the one he had met on the map. There was always a line between them, no matter what he did, and although at first it was scary, Raivis knew that all he wanted was a friend... And all Ivan needed was a friend. It was one of the reasons that the smaller nation was loathe to be as hurtful to Ivan in secret as his brothers were - they shared a common bond.

Raivis half-turned from the window when, suddenly, there were warm arms around his shoulders, drawing him into the plush silk of a scarf. He didn’t have to question who it was - it was obvious from the slight scent of vodka and the small giggle that followed. Instead of shaking in fear as he would’ve not even a decade ago, Raivis didn’t resist. There was no point resisting anymore - it seemed illogical. He’d been in the arms of Russia for decades - why resist now when he had no strength?

“Raivis, you’re happy today?” The childish voice asked, and all the little nation could do was sigh. Unconsciously, he moved and snuggled into the scarf, his reward being another little giggle from the bigger man, who tightened his grip and gently stroked the boy’s hair. Raivis shivered a little, memories of that hand pulling and tugging coming to mind - but he shoved it away. That was the past.

“Yes... I’m happy.” He eventually replied, and he looked up with a small, broken smile. Ivan was smiling brightly, as though he had one a thousand wars. Raivis blinked, shocked for a moment, before he returned the bright smile, even giggling a little. Soon enough, he was swept up into large arms, cradled against a large chest as a heavy Russian accent hissed in his ear.

“I’m glad Raivis is happy... Everything is good if Raivis is happy.”