Russia Loves You 2/2
anonymous
October 24 2010, 09:02:56 UTC
The nation continued. “But I was saying, I like you Vladimir, da? But things are changing. I can feel them changing. I feel like I felt before the revolution. Soon things will be different for me, da?”
The man didn’t know how to respond, but luckily the nation suddenly thrust out the bottle of vodka, signaling for him to take a drink. As Vladimir took the bottle and swallowed (it was a fine vodka, probably would have been expensive) the nation continued talking.
“I was thinking… I want someone I can trust. It is so hard for me to trust, da? I don’t know if I trust you Vladimir, but I like you. I like you a lot. So, I was thinking, maybe you could stay in my life, da?”
“What do you mean?” The vodka bottle got passed back to Ivan.
“I don’t know. Maybe I am drunk, da? Can a county be drunk? Maybe Ivan can be drunk, understand? Nyet, of course not…” The nation took a gulp of vodka. “But I want you to stay in my life. In my future, whatever that may be.”
“I am honored.”
“Kolkol, so you keep saying.”
More silence, so Vladimir looked at the moon, only half full, and it would only get smaller. He wondered what the nation really wanted, wondered why he had traveled all this way just to talk to him, wondered just what would change for Russia, he wondered who Toris was and why the name seemed to upset his nation, wondered how he would explain this to his wife if she woke up and he was no longer in bed, he wondered what year the vodka was.
Ivan broke the silence.
“Promise me Vladimir. Promise me you will stay in the future of Russia, no matter what changes. Promise.”
It was almost childish, but it seemed shockingly sincere, so for the first time that evening Vladimir turned his head and looked his nation in the eyes.
They were bright, like those of a child, but a child that has seen too much, grown up too fast.
“I promise,” agreed the human. “It would be my pleasure.”
The man, no, the nation, smiled. “Good.”
Then he leaned forward and kissed Vladimir Putin.
He thought about jerking back from the kiss, thought about speaking of his wife and children, or even of Ivan’s gender.
But it did feel romantic, the kiss, it did feel like betrayal, did not even feel like a kiss from a person.
And after all, he was not kissing a person. He was kissing a nation. And it did not feel romantic, no, it felt patriotic.
Ivan broke the kiss, pulling back and smiling. “Thank you Vladimir. Here, keep the vodka. It is a good kind, da?” He thrust the bottle into the human’s hands, before standing, reminding the seated man that of his impressive height, so easily forgotten when he sat drunken and vulnerable on a doorstep.
“I should probably be leaving, before Gilbert gets mad. Though I probably should not have come at all, hmm, though I suppose Gilbert could not stop me...Oh well. I know I will be seeing you again soon, da?”
He smiled brilliantly down at Vladimir Putin, his smile proud, and his whole demeanor had noticeably changed. “I know great things will happen to you. After all...” He turned to walk away, scarf blown by the slight breeze. “Russia loves you.”
I hope I did not fail too much, as this is an epic prompt.
Re: Russia Loves You 2/2
anonymous
October 24 2010, 16:47:04 UTC
The one thing that I would change here is how Russia calls him. Vladimir sounds too formal... Vlad or Volodya would sound more natural in the given circumstances.
Re: Russia Loves You 2/2
anonymous
November 30 2010, 04:55:28 UTC
I thought it was beautiful. The use of his formal name showed respect to me. Since the two men hadn't spoken before, it would have seemed odd and frankly rude for Russia to address Putin in a familiar manner. I might have even had him use Putin's patronym, Vladimirovich, to emphasize that respect. But really, it was perfect the way it is.
The man didn’t know how to respond, but luckily the nation suddenly thrust out the bottle of vodka, signaling for him to take a drink. As Vladimir took the bottle and swallowed (it was a fine vodka, probably would have been expensive) the nation continued talking.
“I was thinking… I want someone I can trust. It is so hard for me to trust, da? I don’t know if I trust you Vladimir, but I like you. I like you a lot. So, I was thinking, maybe you could stay in my life, da?”
“What do you mean?” The vodka bottle got passed back to Ivan.
“I don’t know. Maybe I am drunk, da? Can a county be drunk? Maybe Ivan can be drunk, understand? Nyet, of course not…” The nation took a gulp of vodka. “But I want you to stay in my life. In my future, whatever that may be.”
“I am honored.”
“Kolkol, so you keep saying.”
More silence, so Vladimir looked at the moon, only half full, and it would only get smaller. He wondered what the nation really wanted, wondered why he had traveled all this way just to talk to him, wondered just what would change for Russia, he wondered who Toris was and why the name seemed to upset his nation, wondered how he would explain this to his wife if she woke up and he was no longer in bed, he wondered what year the vodka was.
Ivan broke the silence.
“Promise me Vladimir. Promise me you will stay in the future of Russia, no matter what changes. Promise.”
It was almost childish, but it seemed shockingly sincere, so for the first time that evening Vladimir turned his head and looked his nation in the eyes.
They were bright, like those of a child, but a child that has seen too much, grown up too fast.
“I promise,” agreed the human. “It would be my pleasure.”
The man, no, the nation, smiled. “Good.”
Then he leaned forward and kissed Vladimir Putin.
He thought about jerking back from the kiss, thought about speaking of his wife and children, or even of Ivan’s gender.
But it did feel romantic, the kiss, it did feel like betrayal, did not even feel like a kiss from a person.
And after all, he was not kissing a person. He was kissing a nation. And it did not feel romantic, no, it felt patriotic.
Ivan broke the kiss, pulling back and smiling. “Thank you Vladimir. Here, keep the vodka. It is a good kind, da?” He thrust the bottle into the human’s hands, before standing, reminding the seated man that of his impressive height, so easily forgotten when he sat drunken and vulnerable on a doorstep.
“I should probably be leaving, before Gilbert gets mad. Though I probably should not have come at all, hmm, though I suppose Gilbert could not stop me...Oh well. I know I will be seeing you again soon, da?”
He smiled brilliantly down at Vladimir Putin, his smile proud, and his whole demeanor had noticeably changed. “I know great things will happen to you. After all...” He turned to walk away, scarf blown by the slight breeze. “Russia loves you.”
I hope I did not fail too much, as this is an epic prompt.
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ReCapcha is "informal schal" O.O
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