This Animal I Have Become [7.5/?]
anonymous
October 8 2009, 22:33:07 UTC
America complied, trudging along, invited into Germany's house. Yet again, another simplistic hut of one room, with no natural light inside, the door covered by animal skins.
Ludwig looked up towards his brother and their guest, nervously shifting a heavily-sleeping Veneciano off his lap.
Behind Ludwig's back was a pair of golden wings, which fluttered lightly in surprise when he saw America. His lips formed a small line again, and he greeted Alfred, trying not to wake up Italy, whose ears and tail were twitching as he ran in a dream, for Italy was a wolf, just like Ivan.
Prussia grinned, shooting out three glasses of beer from each barrel into very old metal steins. America drunk what he could - the home-made beer tasted foul and unrefined.
"...How much does it hurt when the wings come in?" The American asked, his gaze still lowered as he drove an proverbial icepick into the silence.
"Is that what this is about?" Ludwig blinked. "Why us? Austria and Hungary both have wings..."
"Yeah! Plus, you know, when you turn into a totally awesome angel, like me, they just materialise and don't hurt ya at all."
America sighed as he was forced yet again to retell his story.
The German brothers listened in carefully, recalling just how they'd helped themselves, and their cousin and his wife.
"Oi... Take off your shirt."
"What?" America blinked. Even after 5,000 years, it was still an odd question to be asked, but looking at the hardness of Germany's eyes, he had no choice, shrugging off the same shirt he'd worn all these years, carefully unclasping his bolo tie, his naked back caressed by the warm twilight breeze.
Ludwig moved to inspect America's back, America almost howling with pain when the German's two large thumbs pressed gently against the swollen welts on his back, which were now no longer simply raised, but had become larger, almost egg-shapped, protruding from the skin, sore, and red, occasionally moving.
"Jesus H. Christ!" Prussia yelled, once he'd turned to take a look with Ludwig. "Geez.. this is gonna be bad..."
America grimaced and winced, Ludwig diagnosing that he would only have a few more days before the wings would spectacularly burst from his back.
A shiver ran down America's spine as he counted down to this, clenching his teeth together, holding his arms so his fingers were hanging over his shoulders.
Even though Ludwig offered him a place to stay, America just couldn't help himself. He suddenly grabbed his shirt and darted from the hut, as fast as a rabbit who had sensed danger. He heard the calls of Prussia from above, but he lost him soon enough, running for so long he didn't even know he was exhausted until he collapsed in the middle of a thicket.
By now, he was completely terrified and clutching onto one of the lumps, looking at the blood on his hand when he noticed it was wet. Turning his head to get a better look, one of the bones on one side had broken through the skin. A hateful bone, a piece of cartilage shaped like the Reaper's scythe.
Re: This Animal I Have Become [7.5/?]
anonymous
October 8 2009, 23:25:12 UTC
wahah! prussia the angel! for some reason, that reminds me a lot of a chinese opera i saw a few years back.
feli makes a good wolf, since rome was said, by myth, to be founded by brothers that were themselves raised by a mother wolf. i don't know if this was anon's intent of not, but still really cool.
Authoranon replies
anonymous
October 9 2009, 15:58:37 UTC
Thank you guys so much! It's lovely to see such enthusiasm over this. I wasn't sure of where it should go, but a story arc popped into my head, so yeah. (:
Oh, and it was my every intention to make Feli have wolf features. I have a list of national animals bookmarked, and since Italy's animal is a wolf, I thought it'd be fitting, due to Rome's influence too. : )
Before anyone asks this also, I'll say that although Russia's emblem and national animal is an eagle, Ivan seems more like a wolf to me.
So enjoy the rest! I'll be out tonight, but when I come back, I'll put up the next chapter. C:
This Animal I Have Become [8/?]
anonymous
October 9 2009, 21:29:32 UTC
America was desperate for something, anything, to alleviate the pain he was feeling now. He felt paralysed and trapped, unable to muster the energy to move even his little finger. He was half-awake, and his body was still spasming in shock.
The blurry sight that greeted him when he focused was an animal skin draped over his back, his head forced onto a sack-like pillow that had been stuffed with goose-feather. There was a smell of cooking, but he couldn't point out exactly which game the scent came from.
Trying to control the spasms, America attempting to move his arms, which had gone past the stage of extremely tickly pins and needles into the numbness of dead limbs. He managed to stiffly move them so he could sit up - before being pushed back down again.
“Mr. America, please don't! I don't want you to hurt yourself...” That high and familiar register of concern rung in America's ears, and he turned his head, a jolt of pain stabbing at his back like a fork of lightning as his shoulders complained about the sudden movement. “Please, please don't move so quickly!”
Yep. Definitely Lithuania.
The brunette quickly soaked yet another rag in a bowl of cold water Belarus was holding on her lap, his ox tail swishing, ears twitching.
The cool sensation upon Alfred's shoulders felt nice, but it was replaced with a vaguely nauseous feeling as the Lithuania brushed the makeshift flannel over the bones which had come through. He had to shove his face into the 'pillow' yet again, trying to hold back pained tears.
“Mr. America... they're still sore and weeping fluid... and blood.” Lithuania said quietly, mopping at them again. “The wing-tips have broken the skin, though... so you're over the first hurdle, at least.”
Belarus nodded softly to Liet, her hands gracefully upon her lap. Lithuania sat down next to her and held her hand. She broke his fingers, again, but he was used to it by now.
He jumped up and very nearly pulled Natalia upwards with him when the wooden door was shoved open, Russia grinning darkly, the same aura around him. Raivis, who had a swollen cheek from a good backhand stumbled in behind Ivan, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.
Oh God, he's drunk. Lithuania tried to move away, thinking up all his tactics to keep this intoxicated beast under control - but he was shoved out of the way. Lithuania was thankful that he wasn't Russia's prey for tonight, but from his position on the floor, he could see Ivan's form stalking towards the severely exhausted America.
“Alfred~!” Russia called in the same sickening sing-song tone that caused a lump of terror to swell in Lithuania's throat. He dragged the near-unconscious, limp body towards him, grinning evilly. “Lithuania, you will leave us, da?”
The Lithuanian had no choice. His tail between his legs, and his ears flattened besides his head, he took the hand of his winged crush and led her out of the room, all while painfully wincing as she broke his fingers. Latvia dismissed himself as well.
“It's time to speed up your transformation, da?” Russia laughed cruelly, sitting America up with his back facing him, and then shoving down extremely hard, making the American strain the muscles in his back, part of the wings pushing down thanks to the extra leeway and tensing.
It was too painful for America to take, and soon he was screaming, sobbing and shaking, even as he was given one of Russia's fingers in his mouth to bite. The Russian was wincing also, but he didn't let it show, smiling softly as the bloody appendages slowly came out in full force.
Sobs and deep breaths shook America as he incoherently babbled and begged for Russia to release him. Ivan was bruising his shoulders with the iron grip he was using, chuckling softly, even as the blood sprayed in a line of liquid and straight onto his cheek.
America screamed and screamed, the very edge of his wings coming out, straining his entire back with blood. He was feverish and felt sick, eventually collapsing beneath Russia, still breathing erratically.
Re: This Animal I Have Become [8.5/?]
anonymous
October 9 2009, 21:32:18 UTC
When he woke up again, a foul taste and texture was in America's mouth - a rope. He could only see darkness, with small shafts of light beneath whatever was covering his eyes.
Blindfolded, tied up, rope in his mouth to keep him from biting his tongue off, America thrashed around weakly.
He heard distant voices, but was often swimming in and out of consciousness - in too much pain to stay awake for very long, anyway.
“I th-think Mr. Russia said we have t-to move Mr. America... e-every now and again s-s-s-so... that the wings can grow...”
“Poor guy... he doesn't have long to go, does he?”
“I think it'll take much longer to see Alfred's face all twisted in pain, da?”
The blinding pain kept stabbing at Alfred's psyche, even as he was floating in the abyss of his mind, which should have been safe. He felt shooting pains and warm liquid seeping every now and again, and his body involuntarily screamed out loudly every now and again. He clenched the side of the bed, his nails scratching into the wood the next time he awoke.
But he could feel it now - the grand finale to all the pain, and by now, he just wanted to get it over and done with.
One last, spectacular burst, and blood sprayed all over the walls, heavily coating the feathers as Alfred fell into shocked unconsciousness again. He had lost the weight of the fear of what was going to happen off of his shoulders... but now he had more weight on the mantle of his body.
Re: This Animal I Have Become [9/?]
anonymous
October 11 2009, 01:05:26 UTC
America had been sleeping for at least ten days now - well, by his estimation. He heard the voices outside his consciousness talking about the conditions outside, so he knew what was going on. He knew he'd been fed three times a day.
His eyes opened, and he could now muster up the energy to rise. Glancing to make sure no-one was around, he leant upwards, wincing as the bulky wings on his back moved with him. They were a mixture of heavy, soft, unnatural, and stiff.
His legs gingerly found the ground at his bedside, and he stumbled, his vision dazed due to his lack of spectacles. He grunted when he flopped his hand around to find them, and was granted clarity and focus.
Russia's home wasn't a basic hut like some of the nations, although it had simplistic qualities to it. It was the remains of the Romanov palace, but without all its extensions and wings. Russia had stopped using all the extra space he had until life was confined to just the rooms for sleeping, eating, dining, entry, and private needs.
America was lying upstairs in a bedroom - and judging by the fact it was a double bed and there was a few paintings of horses on the wall, it belonged to Lithuania and Poland.
A wall-length mirror gave the effect of a waterfall on this forest mural, and America stepped in front of it nervously. His body language made it look like he was terrified the mirror was going to eat his soul.
He turned to his side, wincing as he stretched out his wings. All he had to do was strain and stretch the muscles in his shoulders, and as clear as day, absolutely enormous, his wings presented themselves.
Soft, downy white feathers (still stained a light cherry colour from the blood), crowned brown feathers that grew darker towards the tips of the bottom feathers. Some of the plumes still stuck together with blood, but mostly, they had been washed with tender care, every quill attended to.
America flapped them gently, and they made the exact same sounds he'd known from the eagles he had loved and symbolised so much. He was proud, but the pain was still causing that little spark of revenge in his head, saying they were disgusting, stupid, wrong, and should have never happened in the first place. He weakly shook them again, with less pain, although the dull ache was still there.
But to him, he was in Russia's house, and needed to leave. He was thankful for the hospitality, but he didn't want to overstay any welcome in Ivan's house.
So, dressing himself again, (fumbling to rip wing holes in his shirt), America left the spare room, a tray clattering, water spilling over the floor as he bumped straight into the smallest Baltic.
“Mr. America!” He cried, grabbing the rag he'd brought to clean America's feathers. He began to shake, as though fearing a punishment, but all Alfred did was to plant a hand in those soft blonde curls, the boy still squeaking, not daring to look.
“I'm fine, Latvia, really.” Alfred said, smiling through the back pain. He knelt down, a task that was more burdening than it should have been with the wings, helping him clean up. “What exactly were you going to do?”
“M-m-mr. Russia... s-s-s-said I have t-t-to clean your wings.”
He laughed. “Eh? But I think they're in good shape...” He fluttered them for emphasis.
Raivis moved his own tiny wings too. America took a good look at them when Latvia turned around to excuse himself. They were as soft and downy as Latvia's hair, and a slightly creamier colour. They only really covered his shoulders, and had brown flecks near the bottom.
He watched as Latvia disappeared, and stretched out his own wings, inspecting every feather with his fingers.
Stepping over the threshold of the door, he didn't expect Ivan to accost him - generally, no-one did.
The Russian grabbed America, pulling his wings forwards painfully with a smile. “Well, you're looking in fine shape now, da?” He giggled innocently, kissing one feather. “So beautiful...” Alfred groaned as he was restrained, Russia searching through every individual feather. He got too low at one point, grabbing a fistful, Alfred wincing in pain. “Oh, how very interesting.~” Russia laughed. His eyes darkened as he spied the feathers that so far, the nations who had grown wings had lacked - the feathers necessary for flight...
This Animal I Have Become [10/?]
anonymous
October 11 2009, 22:39:40 UTC
America tried to shake out of Russia's grip, but he was held fast.
"Why is it that you can fly and Poland and Belarus can't?" Ivan asked, running a long finger down the remiges along the bottom. "I think it is time to see...~"
And with that, he grabbed Alfred, whirled him around, and shoved him down the stairs.
The rapid swirling of colours and images made Alfred close his eyes, although something in his head insisted he open them - and his wings snapped open to ensure his safe landing, the air flowing through the wings buoyantly, Alfred looking scared out of his mind as he alighted to the ground, glaring around at Ivan on the staircase.
"What the hell was that for?"
Ivan smiled sweetly and brushed past America. "Just exercise for you.~" He walked into the kitchen, Alfred keeping an eye on the giant Russian.
Ukraine was in the kitchen, tasting the meat stew she was making, still nervously greeting Ivan, even though their histories were just thousand-year-old scars on their minds now.
"Sister.~" Ivan smiled. "I've made a brilliant discovery, da."
The rest of the conversation turned quiet.
Alfred wished he could hear like an eagle at the moment, but the talk drifted between languages and volume so abruptly that he couldn't make out a single world. The only thing that was sure he heard was 'our new comrade', 'joining us', and 'precious task'.
He no clue as to what on earth they were talking about, but he could have never expected Ivan's confession the next day, forced into something he couldn't have ever dared to think about.
This Animal I Have Become [11/?]
anonymous
October 11 2009, 23:20:33 UTC
Alfred didn't get his answer until later that night, when he had asked, nay, demanded what Ivan was up to.
"I will show you tomorrow, my dear America." Ivan laughed innocently, descending upon the American, invading him in every way possible whilst keeping him restrained. Alfred jerked and groaned at every ministration, but Russia was too much of an expert, and soon the American was putty in his old enemy's hands.
----
The next evening, Ivan took America and Lithuania out with him on a 'hunting trip'.
The brunette Lithuanian was nervously holding a loaded, primitive crossbow, Ivan was wearing his smile. America followed behind, unsure of what to do, and his feet were beginning to ache when the two in front of him came to a stop.
"What is it?"
"Fly, Alfred." Ivan smirked. They were on top of a steep hill, and to the north, in direct vision, was a small blur on the ground, Alfred having to squint.
The sun had not set yet. As America did what he was told, which was more or less confirmation to Ivan that he could ascend, descend and fly with his wings, he was ordered back down. He questioned it somewhat, and then got his answer.
"Those are humans down there." The Russian whispered, smiling. "A little village of humans."
Alfred immediately shook his head. "But how in the h-hell?"
"They escaped the H6K1 virus." Lithuania said sadly. "These must be their descendants who've," he gulped, "escaped the c-cleansing through all these years... they've become a little colony."
"And that is why we must exterminate them." Russia smirked. "To instil fear in the hearts of the others, to make sure they never get any ideas."
America didn't understand the logic at all, shaking his head in disbelief. "But why? What's the point of this? We need humans, don't we?"
His answer came in the form of a sharp backhand across the face. Alfred clutched his face, and looked terrified at Ivan.
"NYET." Ivan snapped, the aura around his eyes darkening. "Our world is perfect now. Humans are and were always the cause of problems in this world. Stepping over each others' heads to get to where they want, destroying everything to make their lives better yet not caring if someone else is worse off than them... I thought that communism would solve all those problems, but it didn't." He laughed raucously, finding that piece of history rather amusing, then his giggling died, like a candle being suddenly snuffed out. "So this is why we kill them. You know what would happen if their population became too big?" He grabbed the American by the lapels. "Well?"
Lithuania nervously watched, praying Alfred would be okay.
"I d-don't know..." Alfred whimpered.
"A number of things." Russia smiled, as if he were explaining something to a very small child. "One. They treat us as freaks, revolt, rebel, et cetera." He paused to grin again, his sharpened canines showing. "Two, we could die, because they would make new nations to replace us. Makes me sick... oh, and let's not forget they'd ruin this perfect new world. They're still naked apes living simple lifestyles, and if we let them live, who's to say they won't grow more and more indulgent?"
Alfred blinked again, scared, but now unable to say anything, as if his tongue had been clamped down by a supernatural force. Counter-arguments flew around in his head, but were never sounded.
"So, you'll fly over that village and scout it out? Basic recon, da?" Russia smiled sickeningly again, shoving Alfred away.
So he had no choice but to unfold his wings, leap upwards, and catch an air-current...
This Animal I Have Become [12/?]
anonymous
October 12 2009, 22:30:47 UTC
It pained America deeply to have been caught up in this whole stupid mess. What was Russia thinking? Sure, he had a point, but all he was doing was glorifying murder and genocide! Simply because these people were different.
One strong flap of the wings sent him floating through the clouds, the wave of the air current whistling pleasantly through his feathers, a direct contrast to the nauseous feeling he had creeping into his bones right now. His mind was tearing in two - he couldn't kill these people (and from the look of it, they were so few anyway), but no matter what he did, Ivan would go down and kill them. Lithuania had been roped into his game too (probably through fear), and Alfred bit his lip as he imagined Lithuania's hands shaking at the crossbow.
The 'village' itself was nothing more than 3 houses, the huts which had become commonplace in the countryside, where resources were scarce. Many people avoided the cities now, due to the wild animals lurking around in what used to be shops, clubs, and houses, and had gone back to 'nature', as it were. Making huts out of mud, or letting bricks of dirt lie out in the sun, whilst arranging long branches into a roof construction that resembled a teepee.
He flapped his wings again, circling out of sight, like a bird above its prey, then gulped when he realised he'd have to go back to Ivan.
The humans down below, completely unaware, just seemed to be going about their daily lives. Hunched in simple clothing, carrying goods, talking, it saddened Alfred to know they would die soon. But it wasn't as if Ivan was going to exterminate every human on the planet, oh no. People would escape and survive. The gulags in Siberia were known to kill the spirit with hundreds of miles of nothing but snow even if one did manage to escape and get past the extremely high security measures - their stories had been told and chronicled by ex-inmates.
Perhaps his best bet would have been to fly away, but he knew Ivan would just go down and kill this colony anyway, so he soared towards the ground, landing behind Ivan.
"How many houses?" This was the first thing the Russian asked, not turning around to look at America.
"About three..."
"Three." The Russian laughed. "Pathetic. This will be done by dinner. Liet~?"
The brunette scrambled to attention, shaking slightly. "Y-y-yes, sir?"
"Kill them. No mercy. America and I will block their escape."
Lithuania hung his head and spoke in a defeated tone: "Yes, sir..."
This Animal I Have Become [13/?]
anonymous
October 14 2009, 22:41:16 UTC
America flew a little bit above Ivan as they snuck down towards the humans' camp. There was a little bit of a skip in Ivan's step, clearly deep in thought, stopping suddenly, and beckoning Alfred to come down.
"Dearest Alfred..." Ivan started, still saccharine and sickening. "I just saw something. I want you to go and look, da~?"
"Look for what?" Alfred whispered, his suspicions rising up higher and higher with every second that passed.
Ivan merely smiled and pushed him forwards. If Alfred could pass through the alley between two of the main huts, he would be in the village 'square'. And that was where he found himself, suddenly victim to the stares of several bewildered peasants.
He feared the worst - normally, he'd seen from his movies that primitive people would be fearing of any outsiders. Yet here, he didn't expect to be heralded as a hero.
A man who was in his 50s, the elder of the village with a haggard face and a long beard, immediately shook Alfred's hand vigorously in a clumsy handshake, the rest of the villagers staring at the large wings on his back.
"You like... well... like..." The elder started, speaking a garbled tongue that Alfred couldn't quite understand until he slowly mulled over every word in his head. It was like a foreign language one only knows the basics of, and is also full of words from your own language.
"Like what? Who?" Alfred blinked. He involuntarily fluttered his wings, the small crowd around him dashing to grab the feathers.
"People with feathers - wise." The elder stated slowly. He laughed as two women fought over one pure white feather. "Sign of oracle."
Alfred blinked, unable to believe what he had just heard. "How do you know?"
"We have oracle - gets predictions right and live forever. She beautiful girl with much protection."
"Um..." America rubbed the back of his head. "Could I see her?" He didn't want to play Ivan's game of reconnaissance and gathering geographical intelligence, so this was his own way of rebelling.
It was with much fanfare and welcoming that Alfred was brought into the room of the house where the 'oracle' was being protected. The house was simple when one entered, yes, but walking into the room where this girl was... a complete culture change.
Any gold that the villagers had found on their travels was given to this girl. She had the first pick of the meats, colourful clothes, and was even bathed in sunlight pouring through a basic window.
...Yet this girl was only a few years old. Ashen-blonde hair that curled slightly, big violet eyes, and a crooked nose amidst chubby cheeks and soft lips. Alfred knew this girl, the little angel sat before him on her knees, her face a mixture of pure innocence and naivety. He got the 'feeling' from her that she was a nation (the little, pure white wings protruding from her shoulder-blades notwithstanding), but he just couldn't remember her name for the life of him. She looked like Russia... and he'd helped her in the past.
A light-bulb.
"...Georgia?"
(Okay so the ReCAPTCHA says 'Timo/Edward' then 'peccary'. Ahahaha. Hope you enjoy this update! Story-arc happening nao.~)
Ludwig looked up towards his brother and their guest, nervously shifting a heavily-sleeping Veneciano off his lap.
Behind Ludwig's back was a pair of golden wings, which fluttered lightly in surprise when he saw America. His lips formed a small line again, and he greeted Alfred, trying not to wake up Italy, whose ears and tail were twitching as he ran in a dream, for Italy was a wolf, just like Ivan.
Prussia grinned, shooting out three glasses of beer from each barrel into very old metal steins. America drunk what he could - the home-made beer tasted foul and unrefined.
"...How much does it hurt when the wings come in?" The American asked, his gaze still lowered as he drove an proverbial icepick into the silence.
"Is that what this is about?" Ludwig blinked. "Why us? Austria and Hungary both have wings..."
"Yeah! Plus, you know, when you turn into a totally awesome angel, like me, they just materialise and don't hurt ya at all."
America sighed as he was forced yet again to retell his story.
The German brothers listened in carefully, recalling just how they'd helped themselves, and their cousin and his wife.
"Oi... Take off your shirt."
"What?" America blinked. Even after 5,000 years, it was still an odd question to be asked, but looking at the hardness of Germany's eyes, he had no choice, shrugging off the same shirt he'd worn all these years, carefully unclasping his bolo tie, his naked back caressed by the warm twilight breeze.
Ludwig moved to inspect America's back, America almost howling with pain when the German's two large thumbs pressed gently against the swollen welts on his back, which were now no longer simply raised, but had become larger, almost egg-shapped, protruding from the skin, sore, and red, occasionally moving.
"Jesus H. Christ!" Prussia yelled, once he'd turned to take a look with Ludwig. "Geez.. this is gonna be bad..."
America grimaced and winced, Ludwig diagnosing that he would only have a few more days before the wings would spectacularly burst from his back.
A shiver ran down America's spine as he counted down to this, clenching his teeth together, holding his arms so his fingers were hanging over his shoulders.
Even though Ludwig offered him a place to stay, America just couldn't help himself. He suddenly grabbed his shirt and darted from the hut, as fast as a rabbit who had sensed danger. He heard the calls of Prussia from above, but he lost him soon enough, running for so long he didn't even know he was exhausted until he collapsed in the middle of a thicket.
By now, he was completely terrified and clutching onto one of the lumps, looking at the blood on his hand when he noticed it was wet. Turning his head to get a better look, one of the bones on one side had broken through the skin. A hateful bone, a piece of cartilage shaped like the Reaper's scythe.
He screamed loudly and then lost consciousness.
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feli makes a good wolf, since rome was said, by myth, to be founded by brothers that were themselves raised by a mother wolf. i don't know if this was anon's intent of not, but still really cool.
alfred's bone sticking out made me cringe!
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Oh, and it was my every intention to make Feli have wolf features. I have a list of national animals bookmarked, and since Italy's animal is a wolf, I thought it'd be fitting, due to Rome's influence too. : )
Before anyone asks this also, I'll say that although Russia's emblem and national animal is an eagle, Ivan seems more like a wolf to me.
So enjoy the rest! I'll be out tonight, but when I come back, I'll put up the next chapter. C:
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The blurry sight that greeted him when he focused was an animal skin draped over his back, his head forced onto a sack-like pillow that had been stuffed with goose-feather. There was a smell of cooking, but he couldn't point out exactly which game the scent came from.
Trying to control the spasms, America attempting to move his arms, which had gone past the stage of extremely tickly pins and needles into the numbness of dead limbs. He managed to stiffly move them so he could sit up - before being pushed back down again.
“Mr. America, please don't! I don't want you to hurt yourself...” That high and familiar register of concern rung in America's ears, and he turned his head, a jolt of pain stabbing at his back like a fork of lightning as his shoulders complained about the sudden movement. “Please, please don't move so quickly!”
Yep. Definitely Lithuania.
The brunette quickly soaked yet another rag in a bowl of cold water Belarus was holding on her lap, his ox tail swishing, ears twitching.
The cool sensation upon Alfred's shoulders felt nice, but it was replaced with a vaguely nauseous feeling as the Lithuania brushed the makeshift flannel over the bones which had come through. He had to shove his face into the 'pillow' yet again, trying to hold back pained tears.
“Mr. America... they're still sore and weeping fluid... and blood.” Lithuania said quietly, mopping at them again. “The wing-tips have broken the skin, though... so you're over the first hurdle, at least.”
Belarus nodded softly to Liet, her hands gracefully upon her lap. Lithuania sat down next to her and held her hand. She broke his fingers, again, but he was used to it by now.
He jumped up and very nearly pulled Natalia upwards with him when the wooden door was shoved open, Russia grinning darkly, the same aura around him. Raivis, who had a swollen cheek from a good backhand stumbled in behind Ivan, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.
Oh God, he's drunk. Lithuania tried to move away, thinking up all his tactics to keep this intoxicated beast under control - but he was shoved out of the way. Lithuania was thankful that he wasn't Russia's prey for tonight, but from his position on the floor, he could see Ivan's form stalking towards the severely exhausted America.
Calloused hands gripped America's shoulders, shaking him.
“Alfred~!” Russia called in the same sickening sing-song tone that caused a lump of terror to swell in Lithuania's throat. He dragged the near-unconscious, limp body towards him, grinning evilly. “Lithuania, you will leave us, da?”
The Lithuanian had no choice. His tail between his legs, and his ears flattened besides his head, he took the hand of his winged crush and led her out of the room, all while painfully wincing as she broke his fingers. Latvia dismissed himself as well.
“It's time to speed up your transformation, da?” Russia laughed cruelly, sitting America up with his back facing him, and then shoving down extremely hard, making the American strain the muscles in his back, part of the wings pushing down thanks to the extra leeway and tensing.
It was too painful for America to take, and soon he was screaming, sobbing and shaking, even as he was given one of Russia's fingers in his mouth to bite. The Russian was wincing also, but he didn't let it show, smiling softly as the bloody appendages slowly came out in full force.
Sobs and deep breaths shook America as he incoherently babbled and begged for Russia to release him. Ivan was bruising his shoulders with the iron grip he was using, chuckling softly, even as the blood sprayed in a line of liquid and straight onto his cheek.
America screamed and screamed, the very edge of his wings coming out, straining his entire back with blood. He was feverish and felt sick, eventually collapsing beneath Russia, still breathing erratically.
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Blindfolded, tied up, rope in his mouth to keep him from biting his tongue off, America thrashed around weakly.
He heard distant voices, but was often swimming in and out of consciousness - in too much pain to stay awake for very long, anyway.
“I th-think Mr. Russia said we have t-to move Mr. America... e-every now and again s-s-s-so... that the wings can grow...”
“Poor guy... he doesn't have long to go, does he?”
“I think it'll take much longer to see Alfred's face all twisted in pain, da?”
The blinding pain kept stabbing at Alfred's psyche, even as he was floating in the abyss of his mind, which should have been safe. He felt shooting pains and warm liquid seeping every now and again, and his body involuntarily screamed out loudly every now and again. He clenched the side of the bed, his nails scratching into the wood the next time he awoke.
But he could feel it now - the grand finale to all the pain, and by now, he just wanted to get it over and done with.
One last, spectacular burst, and blood sprayed all over the walls, heavily coating the feathers as Alfred fell into shocked unconsciousness again. He had lost the weight of the fear of what was going to happen off of his shoulders... but now he had more weight on the mantle of his body.
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His eyes opened, and he could now muster up the energy to rise. Glancing to make sure no-one was around, he leant upwards, wincing as the bulky wings on his back moved with him. They were a mixture of heavy, soft, unnatural, and stiff.
His legs gingerly found the ground at his bedside, and he stumbled, his vision dazed due to his lack of spectacles. He grunted when he flopped his hand around to find them, and was granted clarity and focus.
Russia's home wasn't a basic hut like some of the nations, although it had simplistic qualities to it. It was the remains of the Romanov palace, but without all its extensions and wings. Russia had stopped using all the extra space he had until life was confined to just the rooms for sleeping, eating, dining, entry, and private needs.
America was lying upstairs in a bedroom - and judging by the fact it was a double bed and there was a few paintings of horses on the wall, it belonged to Lithuania and Poland.
A wall-length mirror gave the effect of a waterfall on this forest mural, and America stepped in front of it nervously. His body language made it look like he was terrified the mirror was going to eat his soul.
He turned to his side, wincing as he stretched out his wings. All he had to do was strain and stretch the muscles in his shoulders, and as clear as day, absolutely enormous, his wings presented themselves.
Soft, downy white feathers (still stained a light cherry colour from the blood), crowned brown feathers that grew darker towards the tips of the bottom feathers. Some of the plumes still stuck together with blood, but mostly, they had been washed with tender care, every quill attended to.
America flapped them gently, and they made the exact same sounds he'd known from the eagles he had loved and symbolised so much. He was proud, but the pain was still causing that little spark of revenge in his head, saying they were disgusting, stupid, wrong, and should have never happened in the first place. He weakly shook them again, with less pain, although the dull ache was still there.
But to him, he was in Russia's house, and needed to leave. He was thankful for the hospitality, but he didn't want to overstay any welcome in Ivan's house.
So, dressing himself again, (fumbling to rip wing holes in his shirt), America left the spare room, a tray clattering, water spilling over the floor as he bumped straight into the smallest Baltic.
“Mr. America!” He cried, grabbing the rag he'd brought to clean America's feathers. He began to shake, as though fearing a punishment, but all Alfred did was to plant a hand in those soft blonde curls, the boy still squeaking, not daring to look.
“I'm fine, Latvia, really.” Alfred said, smiling through the back pain. He knelt down, a task that was more burdening than it should have been with the wings, helping him clean up. “What exactly were you going to do?”
“M-m-mr. Russia... s-s-s-said I have t-t-to clean your wings.”
He laughed. “Eh? But I think they're in good shape...” He fluttered them for emphasis.
Raivis moved his own tiny wings too. America took a good look at them when Latvia turned around to excuse himself. They were as soft and downy as Latvia's hair, and a slightly creamier colour. They only really covered his shoulders, and had brown flecks near the bottom.
He watched as Latvia disappeared, and stretched out his own wings, inspecting every feather with his fingers.
Stepping over the threshold of the door, he didn't expect Ivan to accost him - generally, no-one did.
The Russian grabbed America, pulling his wings forwards painfully with a smile. “Well, you're looking in fine shape now, da?” He giggled innocently, kissing one feather. “So beautiful...” Alfred groaned as he was restrained, Russia searching through every individual feather. He got too low at one point, grabbing a fistful, Alfred wincing in pain. “Oh, how very interesting.~” Russia laughed. His eyes darkened as he spied the feathers that so far, the nations who had grown wings had lacked - the feathers necessary for flight...
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You've got me hooked anon!
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"Why is it that you can fly and Poland and Belarus can't?" Ivan asked, running a long finger down the remiges along the bottom. "I think it is time to see...~"
And with that, he grabbed Alfred, whirled him around, and shoved him down the stairs.
The rapid swirling of colours and images made Alfred close his eyes, although something in his head insisted he open them - and his wings snapped open to ensure his safe landing, the air flowing through the wings buoyantly, Alfred looking scared out of his mind as he alighted to the ground, glaring around at Ivan on the staircase.
"What the hell was that for?"
Ivan smiled sweetly and brushed past America. "Just exercise for you.~" He walked into the kitchen, Alfred keeping an eye on the giant Russian.
Ukraine was in the kitchen, tasting the meat stew she was making, still nervously greeting Ivan, even though their histories were just thousand-year-old scars on their minds now.
"Sister.~" Ivan smiled. "I've made a brilliant discovery, da."
The rest of the conversation turned quiet.
Alfred wished he could hear like an eagle at the moment, but the talk drifted between languages and volume so abruptly that he couldn't make out a single world. The only thing that was sure he heard was 'our new comrade', 'joining us', and 'precious task'.
He no clue as to what on earth they were talking about, but he could have never expected Ivan's confession the next day, forced into something he couldn't have ever dared to think about.
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"I will show you tomorrow, my dear America." Ivan laughed innocently, descending upon the American, invading him in every way possible whilst keeping him restrained. Alfred jerked and groaned at every ministration, but Russia was too much of an expert, and soon the American was putty in his old enemy's hands.
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The next evening, Ivan took America and Lithuania out with him on a 'hunting trip'.
The brunette Lithuanian was nervously holding a loaded, primitive crossbow, Ivan was wearing his smile. America followed behind, unsure of what to do, and his feet were beginning to ache when the two in front of him came to a stop.
"What is it?"
"Fly, Alfred." Ivan smirked. They were on top of a steep hill, and to the north, in direct vision, was a small blur on the ground, Alfred having to squint.
The sun had not set yet. As America did what he was told, which was more or less confirmation to Ivan that he could ascend, descend and fly with his wings, he was ordered back down. He questioned it somewhat, and then got his answer.
"Those are humans down there." The Russian whispered, smiling. "A little village of humans."
Alfred immediately shook his head. "But how in the h-hell?"
"They escaped the H6K1 virus." Lithuania said sadly. "These must be their descendants who've," he gulped, "escaped the c-cleansing through all these years... they've become a little colony."
"And that is why we must exterminate them." Russia smirked. "To instil fear in the hearts of the others, to make sure they never get any ideas."
America didn't understand the logic at all, shaking his head in disbelief. "But why? What's the point of this? We need humans, don't we?"
His answer came in the form of a sharp backhand across the face. Alfred clutched his face, and looked terrified at Ivan.
"NYET." Ivan snapped, the aura around his eyes darkening. "Our world is perfect now. Humans are and were always the cause of problems in this world. Stepping over each others' heads to get to where they want, destroying everything to make their lives better yet not caring if someone else is worse off than them... I thought that communism would solve all those problems, but it didn't." He laughed raucously, finding that piece of history rather amusing, then his giggling died, like a candle being suddenly snuffed out. "So this is why we kill them. You know what would happen if their population became too big?" He grabbed the American by the lapels. "Well?"
Lithuania nervously watched, praying Alfred would be okay.
"I d-don't know..." Alfred whimpered.
"A number of things." Russia smiled, as if he were explaining something to a very small child. "One. They treat us as freaks, revolt, rebel, et cetera." He paused to grin again, his sharpened canines showing. "Two, we could die, because they would make new nations to replace us. Makes me sick... oh, and let's not forget they'd ruin this perfect new world. They're still naked apes living simple lifestyles, and if we let them live, who's to say they won't grow more and more indulgent?"
Alfred blinked again, scared, but now unable to say anything, as if his tongue had been clamped down by a supernatural force. Counter-arguments flew around in his head, but were never sounded.
"So, you'll fly over that village and scout it out? Basic recon, da?" Russia smiled sickeningly again, shoving Alfred away.
So he had no choice but to unfold his wings, leap upwards, and catch an air-current...
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One strong flap of the wings sent him floating through the clouds, the wave of the air current whistling pleasantly through his feathers, a direct contrast to the nauseous feeling he had creeping into his bones right now. His mind was tearing in two - he couldn't kill these people (and from the look of it, they were so few anyway), but no matter what he did, Ivan would go down and kill them. Lithuania had been roped into his game too (probably through fear), and Alfred bit his lip as he imagined Lithuania's hands shaking at the crossbow.
The 'village' itself was nothing more than 3 houses, the huts which had become commonplace in the countryside, where resources were scarce. Many people avoided the cities now, due to the wild animals lurking around in what used to be shops, clubs, and houses, and had gone back to 'nature', as it were. Making huts out of mud, or letting bricks of dirt lie out in the sun, whilst arranging long branches into a roof construction that resembled a teepee.
He flapped his wings again, circling out of sight, like a bird above its prey, then gulped when he realised he'd have to go back to Ivan.
The humans down below, completely unaware, just seemed to be going about their daily lives. Hunched in simple clothing, carrying goods, talking, it saddened Alfred to know they would die soon. But it wasn't as if Ivan was going to exterminate every human on the planet, oh no. People would escape and survive. The gulags in Siberia were known to kill the spirit with hundreds of miles of nothing but snow even if one did manage to escape and get past the extremely high security measures - their stories had been told and chronicled by ex-inmates.
Perhaps his best bet would have been to fly away, but he knew Ivan would just go down and kill this colony anyway, so he soared towards the ground, landing behind Ivan.
"How many houses?" This was the first thing the Russian asked, not turning around to look at America.
"About three..."
"Three." The Russian laughed. "Pathetic. This will be done by dinner. Liet~?"
The brunette scrambled to attention, shaking slightly. "Y-y-yes, sir?"
"Kill them. No mercy. America and I will block their escape."
Lithuania hung his head and spoke in a defeated tone: "Yes, sir..."
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I really like the conflict in the story so far. Really adds to the plot.
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Oh no, yet again Ivan's gone nuts! I can't wait to see what happened to KikuPlease be a tiger!
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"Dearest Alfred..." Ivan started, still saccharine and sickening. "I just saw something. I want you to go and look, da~?"
"Look for what?" Alfred whispered, his suspicions rising up higher and higher with every second that passed.
Ivan merely smiled and pushed him forwards. If Alfred could pass through the alley between two of the main huts, he would be in the village 'square'. And that was where he found himself, suddenly victim to the stares of several bewildered peasants.
He feared the worst - normally, he'd seen from his movies that primitive people would be fearing of any outsiders. Yet here, he didn't expect to be heralded as a hero.
A man who was in his 50s, the elder of the village with a haggard face and a long beard, immediately shook Alfred's hand vigorously in a clumsy handshake, the rest of the villagers staring at the large wings on his back.
"You like... well... like..." The elder started, speaking a garbled tongue that Alfred couldn't quite understand until he slowly mulled over every word in his head. It was like a foreign language one only knows the basics of, and is also full of words from your own language.
"Like what? Who?" Alfred blinked. He involuntarily fluttered his wings, the small crowd around him dashing to grab the feathers.
"People with feathers - wise." The elder stated slowly. He laughed as two women fought over one pure white feather. "Sign of oracle."
Alfred blinked, unable to believe what he had just heard. "How do you know?"
"We have oracle - gets predictions right and live forever. She beautiful girl with much protection."
"Um..." America rubbed the back of his head. "Could I see her?" He didn't want to play Ivan's game of reconnaissance and gathering geographical intelligence, so this was his own way of rebelling.
It was with much fanfare and welcoming that Alfred was brought into the room of the house where the 'oracle' was being protected. The house was simple when one entered, yes, but walking into the room where this girl was... a complete culture change.
Any gold that the villagers had found on their travels was given to this girl. She had the first pick of the meats, colourful clothes, and was even bathed in sunlight pouring through a basic window.
...Yet this girl was only a few years old. Ashen-blonde hair that curled slightly, big violet eyes, and a crooked nose amidst chubby cheeks and soft lips. Alfred knew this girl, the little angel sat before him on her knees, her face a mixture of pure innocence and naivety. He got the 'feeling' from her that she was a nation (the little, pure white wings protruding from her shoulder-blades notwithstanding), but he just couldn't remember her name for the life of him. She looked like Russia... and he'd helped her in the past.
A light-bulb.
"...Georgia?"
(Okay so the ReCAPTCHA says 'Timo/Edward' then 'peccary'. Ahahaha. Hope you enjoy this update! Story-arc happening nao.~)
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Did you fill the updates in the fill page, though? (Sorry if you did, it's just that I didn't notice it there...)
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Sorry! I will from now on... ><
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