[axis powers hetalia] intercession
Summary: In the last days of the Cold War, a conversation between Alfred (US) and Toris (Lithuania). Also, US-kun really needs to pay attention to his history.
Intercession
(hurry up then, or you'll fall behind
and they will take control of you)
"This really needs to stop, you know." Toris eyes Alfred over a half-empty glass of juice, great green eyes narrowed in a rare look of utter seriousness. Long, pale fingers spread across the middle of their small table, almost like they're reaching out toward Alfred -- a young man that has suddenly found himself with few peers at the top of the world.
It was a familiar gesture, placating and offering all at once, but the war had changed Alfred, colored his perceptions -- where once he might have seen compassion and friendship, he now saw weakness and maneuvering. Lithuania knew Russia, had known him most intimately for a long, long time if the rumors could be believed, and looking over at the slight thing sitting across from him, it wasn't hard to believe.
"I've heard your excuses before, Tor," Alfred snorts, turns his head away stubbornly to face the Pacific, eying the horizon hard enough that Toris thought maybe he was trying to see across that expanse to the poor crazy creature that stood against him.
Toris sighs then, following the younger man's gaze out across the water. "You can't keep this up forever. Sooner or later, you're going to go too far, and the rest of us are going to get hurt badly."
That pulled Alfred's attention back to the balcony, and the small man sitting across from him. "Don't you dare try to put the blame on me," he hissed, blue eyes reflecting a sort of youthful hurt that would have surprised Toris had he not lived with that look for centuries, back home. Another sigh, softer this time, as he collected his thoughts. He's too young for this much responsibility. Growing up too fast, just ... just like he was.
Those elegant hands rise from the tabletop, fluttering nervously in a vague gesture of appeasement. "I'm not saying that at all, Alfred. It's just that ... there are things you don't understand about Ivan. For everything he's seen, he's still like a child. A big child, yes, and with terrible power, but a child nonetheless, vulnerable to a child's hopes and a child's fears. For every move you make, he sees a threat, and reacts in the most practical way he can think of -- he builds himself up, trying to outpace that threat so he can feel safe again. You were his ally once. When he looks at you, pulling others to your side, he sees the knife in your hand, and feels your target, warm over his heart." He pauses here, his lips twisting into a heartbreaking smile as he draws his hands back to his chest. "You've forgotten who he is, Alfred. You, who were once his friend."
"I can't condone what he stands for anymore," is the soft, murmured reply, delivered after a moment of silence, punctuated by the distant cry of gulls. Alfred is staring at his own hands, clasped in front of him, trying to see past his own fear and anger to trace the threads of truth in Toris' words. "He'll tear the world apart, Tor. I--I can't let him do that."
"Well," Toris mutters, "speaking for the rest of us, we're not fools. Most of us been around a long time, you know. Your concern is noble, but sometimes the braver thing is let us do what we need do, on our own terms."
Alfred looks genuinely puzzled, and it shows his age; in a way, it's endearing, but Toris is all-too aware of the fates that hang heavily on the youth's decisions. "This, from a guy that's been under his thumb for how long? Tor, sometimes I don't you at all!" He leans back in his chair with a quiet grunt, stretching his legs out in front of him, instep bumping clumsily against Toris' ankle.
"I'm leaving him," Toris whispers, so softly that Alfred does not hear him.
"Besides," he says after a pause, eying Toris with a frown, "a little guy like you wouldn't understand. I've ... I've got a responsibility to you all--" He stops when he notices the smaller man's face, suddenly blank and white as a sheet. He wonders if he's said something stupid again but nothing stands out, so he simply blinks at Toris and waits for a cue.
Toris, however, is far better at composing himself, and he's been around long enough to get used to many kinds of ignorance. He just shakes his head and moves to stand, the slight stiffness in his movements the only indication of any offense. When he turns his back to study their surroundings, it's not meant as an insult, and Alfred is too confused to take it as such, anyway. For a few moments, he studies the ocean, and the hustle of the coastal city beneath their feet. A salty breeze tugs at his hair, and he pushes it away as he glances back to Alfred, who takes the look as an invitation to join him.
"Think about what I've said," Toris says, lifting his head to stare into Alfred's face. "It'll take the both of you, but you two need to work something out. For all your differences, you've got too much in common."
Alfred doesn't quite frown.
"I need to go."
"Be careful, Tor. He might be a kid to you, but don't forget what he can do. If he acts up, give me a call, okay?"
Alfred's dogged concern is almost as heart-wrenching as Ivan's casual atrocities. Toris, who won't forget -- can't forget -- simply nods, not quite trusting himself to speak.
"I'll be in touch. Thanks for dropping by."
And just like that, Toris is gone. Alfred sighs and returns to his seat, taking a moment to get comfortable before focusing again on some unseen point on the horizon, an invisible trajectory that would inevitably intersect with Ivan's. An inevitable conflict, yeah. A chance to be a real hero.
Fifty years is a long time, especially when one is too young to know any better.
Maybe he'd consider a call, after dinner.
-fin
24.08.08
---
Because Al is totes grumpy when he's hungry, haha.
Firstly, I'm totally new to the Hetalia fandom. The webcomic itself is ridiculously interesting, because seriously? Ridiculously adorable anthropomorphized countries of WWI/II import and their wacky hijinks are cause for much thought (and lulz). It's not really to be taken seriously, though there's a lot of wisdom in the pages. Check out the scanlations at hetalia to see what I mean. Love Sweden/Finland with me. Crai moar for Russia. I do. Oh god, I do. D:
AU-ish -- I don't think Lithuania and the US had that much going on during the later parts of the Cold War, and the setting here is just before Liet declares independence from Russia. So, yeah.
For the non-historyfags, Toris' reaction at the end is mostly because, uh ... while he's a little guy now, back in the 1300's Lithuania was the largest country in Europe. Very very big.
And hey! I'm writing again! /o/ Slowly but surely working on the next part of Wraiths and Strays, though spending time away from it and Itachi's more recent revelations made my brain do funny things. Hopefully, more to come. I've got a big urge to write Sweden/Finland fluff. >.>
Intercession
(hurry up then, or you'll fall behind
and they will take control of you)
"This really needs to stop, you know." Toris eyes Alfred over a half-empty glass of juice, great green eyes narrowed in a rare look of utter seriousness. Long, pale fingers spread across the middle of their small table, almost like they're reaching out toward Alfred -- a young man that has suddenly found himself with few peers at the top of the world.
It was a familiar gesture, placating and offering all at once, but the war had changed Alfred, colored his perceptions -- where once he might have seen compassion and friendship, he now saw weakness and maneuvering. Lithuania knew Russia, had known him most intimately for a long, long time if the rumors could be believed, and looking over at the slight thing sitting across from him, it wasn't hard to believe.
"I've heard your excuses before, Tor," Alfred snorts, turns his head away stubbornly to face the Pacific, eying the horizon hard enough that Toris thought maybe he was trying to see across that expanse to the poor crazy creature that stood against him.
Toris sighs then, following the younger man's gaze out across the water. "You can't keep this up forever. Sooner or later, you're going to go too far, and the rest of us are going to get hurt badly."
That pulled Alfred's attention back to the balcony, and the small man sitting across from him. "Don't you dare try to put the blame on me," he hissed, blue eyes reflecting a sort of youthful hurt that would have surprised Toris had he not lived with that look for centuries, back home. Another sigh, softer this time, as he collected his thoughts. He's too young for this much responsibility. Growing up too fast, just ... just like he was.
Those elegant hands rise from the tabletop, fluttering nervously in a vague gesture of appeasement. "I'm not saying that at all, Alfred. It's just that ... there are things you don't understand about Ivan. For everything he's seen, he's still like a child. A big child, yes, and with terrible power, but a child nonetheless, vulnerable to a child's hopes and a child's fears. For every move you make, he sees a threat, and reacts in the most practical way he can think of -- he builds himself up, trying to outpace that threat so he can feel safe again. You were his ally once. When he looks at you, pulling others to your side, he sees the knife in your hand, and feels your target, warm over his heart." He pauses here, his lips twisting into a heartbreaking smile as he draws his hands back to his chest. "You've forgotten who he is, Alfred. You, who were once his friend."
"I can't condone what he stands for anymore," is the soft, murmured reply, delivered after a moment of silence, punctuated by the distant cry of gulls. Alfred is staring at his own hands, clasped in front of him, trying to see past his own fear and anger to trace the threads of truth in Toris' words. "He'll tear the world apart, Tor. I--I can't let him do that."
"Well," Toris mutters, "speaking for the rest of us, we're not fools. Most of us been around a long time, you know. Your concern is noble, but sometimes the braver thing is let us do what we need do, on our own terms."
Alfred looks genuinely puzzled, and it shows his age; in a way, it's endearing, but Toris is all-too aware of the fates that hang heavily on the youth's decisions. "This, from a guy that's been under his thumb for how long? Tor, sometimes I don't you at all!" He leans back in his chair with a quiet grunt, stretching his legs out in front of him, instep bumping clumsily against Toris' ankle.
"I'm leaving him," Toris whispers, so softly that Alfred does not hear him.
"Besides," he says after a pause, eying Toris with a frown, "a little guy like you wouldn't understand. I've ... I've got a responsibility to you all--" He stops when he notices the smaller man's face, suddenly blank and white as a sheet. He wonders if he's said something stupid again but nothing stands out, so he simply blinks at Toris and waits for a cue.
Toris, however, is far better at composing himself, and he's been around long enough to get used to many kinds of ignorance. He just shakes his head and moves to stand, the slight stiffness in his movements the only indication of any offense. When he turns his back to study their surroundings, it's not meant as an insult, and Alfred is too confused to take it as such, anyway. For a few moments, he studies the ocean, and the hustle of the coastal city beneath their feet. A salty breeze tugs at his hair, and he pushes it away as he glances back to Alfred, who takes the look as an invitation to join him.
"Think about what I've said," Toris says, lifting his head to stare into Alfred's face. "It'll take the both of you, but you two need to work something out. For all your differences, you've got too much in common."
Alfred doesn't quite frown.
"I need to go."
"Be careful, Tor. He might be a kid to you, but don't forget what he can do. If he acts up, give me a call, okay?"
Alfred's dogged concern is almost as heart-wrenching as Ivan's casual atrocities. Toris, who won't forget -- can't forget -- simply nods, not quite trusting himself to speak.
"I'll be in touch. Thanks for dropping by."
And just like that, Toris is gone. Alfred sighs and returns to his seat, taking a moment to get comfortable before focusing again on some unseen point on the horizon, an invisible trajectory that would inevitably intersect with Ivan's. An inevitable conflict, yeah. A chance to be a real hero.
Fifty years is a long time, especially when one is too young to know any better.
Maybe he'd consider a call, after dinner.
-fin
24.08.08
---
Because Al is totes grumpy when he's hungry, haha.
Firstly, I'm totally new to the Hetalia fandom. The webcomic itself is ridiculously interesting, because seriously? Ridiculously adorable anthropomorphized countries of WWI/II import and their wacky hijinks are cause for much thought (and lulz). It's not really to be taken seriously, though there's a lot of wisdom in the pages. Check out the scanlations at hetalia to see what I mean. Love Sweden/Finland with me. Crai moar for Russia. I do. Oh god, I do. D:
AU-ish -- I don't think Lithuania and the US had that much going on during the later parts of the Cold War, and the setting here is just before Liet declares independence from Russia. So, yeah.
For the non-historyfags, Toris' reaction at the end is mostly because, uh ... while he's a little guy now, back in the 1300's Lithuania was the largest country in Europe. Very very big.
And hey! I'm writing again! /o/ Slowly but surely working on the next part of Wraiths and Strays, though spending time away from it and Itachi's more recent revelations made my brain do funny things. Hopefully, more to come. I've got a big urge to write Sweden/Finland fluff. >.>