My Tetis < your Papa Part 1
anonymous
April 22 2009, 15:48:55 UTC
In 1990, only 30% of the population of Riga were able to speak Latvian. Russian is still at least equally important in the large cities. Today, 80% of the Latvian population are fluent in Latvian, but those are mostly living in rural areas. And in large urban areas both languages are used as lingua franca. Recently the Latvian government passed a law that required shops to make it possible for non-Russian-speaking Latvians to buy their stuff there... meaning that the staff had to be able to speak Latvian at least fairly well...
----
He had known that something was off that day. Something was terribly off. As if someone had cut one of his hands off, or one foot, or anything else... Something that had always been there wasn't there anymore. He had walked through the streets of his capital, and...
He had stopped and stood in the middle of the street, dumbfounded. Cars had honked, and a woman had run up to him to shove him off the street. But even as she had touched him there had been nothing... She had looked at him confusedly as he cried, light warm eyes, gentle hands that made him sit down somewhere and wiped the tears away with a handkerchief. But it didn't help, he just could not impossibly, stop crying, shaking worse than he had in years, and when little hands touched his knee and he looked up, his sight was blurred. A little girl stood there, and his eyes widened at the sight.
“I...Ivan?” That could not be. The man was long grown up. But still, he felt himself reminded of the day when he had met the nation first, a tiny, sad, lonely boy with large eyes of the same lavender color as his own. Just... that the eastern nation had not worn a dress. He could breathe again, he had not even noticed that he had been holding it. No, this wasn't Russia. But who else... this definitely wasn't a human. Old, watering eyes stared into young, insecure but calm ones, and then he suddenly understood. His voice was trembling when he reached out to lay one hand at the pale hair. “Riga?”
She laughed and replied something that he could not fully understand, Russian and Latvian words mixed into a kind of babytalk.
And when he picked her up and little arms were thrown around his neck, he still cried, cried, cried enough to fill the whole Baltic Sea.
----
She grew up, faster than he had ever seen grow someone. She was still so tiny, still so young, but brave and proud and realistic, and at some point too independent yet too... He language still horrified Latvia. It was bad enough that there were so many Russian's living in his country that refused to become his children, that his own people had to fight for their language and culture to survive in their own country. And Riga with her fluent Russian and Latvian, Riga who slipped into the other language without noticing herself sometimes... She made things worse for him.
But, at the same time, he loved her, loved her smile, her confidence, loved to braid her soft locks that were so similar to his own. Loved to see her play with other children, humans, that were not really her children yet, she wasn't really a nation... And he was sure that nobody would recognize her, even if she wanted them to. Although he doubted that she would have tried.
“Tētis, I love you.”
“Tētis, I will always stay with you.”
“Tētis, can't you speak Russian?”
“Tētis, won't you introduce me to other nations?”
“Papa, why do you hide me?”
And he winced at the Russian, and his cheeks heated at the question and he could not answer. Could not answer because she was proof that he had failed in restoring his traditions, was a proof that Russia might take advantage of. He just could not let the others know.
My Tetis < your Papa Part 2
anonymous
April 22 2009, 19:17:07 UTC
The republic Komi is a federal subject of Russia. Located in the very North. The Komi are a Finno-Permic ethnic group, but only 25% of the population are Komi, most are Russian. It became a autonomous republic in 1929 (So lol, much older than Riga...)
But he could not always be there and look after her. There was so much work to do, meetings to attend, conferences, everything. And then, one day when he had told Riga that he would be away to a world conference and not be back until the day after tomorrow, and that she should be a good child and behave and please, please not leave the house, she did exactly that. It was early morning when she slipped out of the house, run over the dewy grass and away, away. The world was so large and beautiful and she hated how she was always restricted to just one place. Not that she wanted to go anywhere in particular, or that she had not liked her home, or anything. But she just... Wanted to see more, at least more of her father's country. And suddenly, she stood in front of another house, a house that she did not know but that was much larger than that one she lived in. She approached it carefully, admiring the large white pillars and the beautiful balcony in the front. Who could live here? The only other houses she knew, and only from pictures, were Estonia's and Lithuania's and Poland's. But this was neither of them... Who else... Maybe Belarus? She backed away a bit, the stories she had heard about the female nation weren't really encouraging (although she wondered how bad she really was; after all the stories had been told by his father, and Latvia was always scared).
“Who are you?”
She spun around at the voice, staring at the boy before her. It was as if she had looked into a mirror, the same lavender eyes, the same pale hair, just that his was a bit shorter and more straight. A child like her. She grinned widely as she realized something else.
“You speak Russian?”
“Sure. This is his house.” The boy's eyes narrowed a bit. “Who are you?”
She froze at the news. Oh. This was... exactly where she wasn't supposed to be at all. This was the person that should know of her existence least. “I am...” Her thoughts raced, and she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Vilnius.” What was that again?
“Ah.” No recognition showed in the boy's eyes. But then he suddenly smiled happily, not Russia's creepy smile that Riga's father spoke about sometimes, but a very happy one. “My name is Komi. I am Russia's son.”
“Ah...” She nodded slightly. Not good... But he fascinated her, too. Especially his nose. It was a bit too big for his face, or maybe it was the shape... she could not really tell. But it was the thing that made him different from her. Much different...
“Come in?” He extended one hand to grab her wrist, but she hastily took a few steps back. His expression faltered. “Why not?”
“I have to go home.” She explained. “My father is waiting for me.” Hopefully he would just let her go... And not call his own father or anything. That would be bad, in every way possible.
“Oh.” He considered her words. “Okay. But you will come back?”
Riga was sure that she would not, never. Not if she had any choice to stay away. This house, the nation whom it belonged to... “Maybe.” She retreated some more steps, trying not to make it look as if she was fleeing or anything. “It was nice to meet you.”
My Tetis < your Papa Part 3
anonymous
April 24 2009, 19:44:15 UTC
Two days later, Lithuania had locked himself into the bathroom and Poland was nowhere to find, Latvia was about to get hysteric and Russia ... also hysteric. Just the other way round.
The two nations had met at the door of the formerly married nation's house (actually Poland's, but over the last months Liet had been there more often than at his own house), and neither of them had really been in a mood to take much notice of the other. Latvia was too worried about the situations as a whole, his shaking had changed into something like a little earthquake and he looked more nervous than ever, even back in Soviet times. And Russia was... A mix of confused, plain jealous, confused, stunned, confused, furious, confused, smiling at the whole situation.
Liet had had Poland's baby, and it had been Vilnius.
---
However that had happened, it had caused the greatest uproar among the nations since Germany had invaded Poland. Or longer.
France had sent a letter of congratulation, UK one of condolence.
America had sent a box with burgers so the child would have something to eat that would make her tall and strong, and also declared that every nation should be free, which had been the second major attack on Lithuania's nerves.
The first one had been Russia's declaration to not recognize Vilnius as a nation and help his Lithuania to keep what was his.
The third was Germany's declaration to want to meet Vilnius, and the fourth was Poland's reaction to that which mainly consisted of “Like, totally get your hands of Liet, or I will, like, totally tell people what lame things you did in 1941!”, random chain-letter threatening and accusations.
And then Ukraine had offered to baby-sit, Hungary had started to ask questions that made Liet's head blush darker than a tomato, and Liechtenstein had asked if she would be allowed to play with the child what had made Swiss throw death threats at both paternal nations.
At some point Lithuania had crushed and Poland had went missing. Maybe when Sweden had offered them a coupon for IKEA so they could equip their child's room better, or maybe when Italy had offered to sing lullabies, or maybe when Sealand had barged in to play with the child and tell him that both of them would become great prospering nations one day.
Re: My Tetis < your Papa Part 3
anonymous
April 27 2009, 17:47:20 UTC
Oh dear, dear Latvia. I'm hoping there is more of this to come, because somewhere in the cracktacular premise of this, you managed to yank pretty badly at my heartstrings.
My Tetis < your Papa Part 4
anonymous
April 27 2009, 18:04:17 UTC
Ahhh thank you so much for the comments that keeps me writing =3 ----
They tried to get into the house. Shouting didn't work, neither Latvia's shaking little voice nor Russia's demanding, much too calm words had worked, and while the smaller nation wandered around the house to find another way in Russia decided to take a direct approach. Poland's door was not much more than a formality if the larger nation really wanted to enter. And at the moment, that was one of the things he wanted most - even that damn economic crisis did not matter right now.
After both nations had disappeared into the house, it took only a few minutes until one could see a little boy peek out from the bushes near the entry. Curious purple eyes scanned the yard and then he stood up to walk towards the door. Just that he stopped in his tracks when he heard a voice he knew.
“What are you doing here?”
The young not-quite nation whirled around, finding himself nearly face to face with a fuming, very calm, long haired, female little nation that looked so much like him, and he instinctively took a step back. He knew that glint in her eyes, he had seen it before. It seemed to be quite common in his own family... But he had never seen a stranger wearing it.
“I asked you something.”
“I wanted to see you again.” He smiled brightly. “Papa said he would want to see your fathers and greet you welcome.”
“He- what?” The glint vanished, she looked a bit nervous now... Much more like he remembered her father and his brothers. “Why?”
“He is confused.” One hand came up to grab her wrist and only tightened when she tried to pull away. “And he wants to see you. Come.”
“No! Get your hands of-” She hissed when he, without really noticing it himself, twisted her wrist a little too much while dragging her towards the door. “I don't want to!”
“But you have to.” Russia wanted to see her. Of course she had to. Because she had been told to. Right?
“No I don't have to, Komi, I don't-”
“He is not happy. You and your father have to-” He was cut short when the girl suddenly threw herself forward, the free hand grabbing his collar and Pushing him down with her weight. He did not let go of her wrist while they were falling so she had to follow him all the way down, but she did not seem as if it would have bothered her, nor the hand that came up to grab her hair and pull- Which she stopped effectively when one delicate hand came down to apply light pressure at his windpipe. He stared up, right into her eyes, purple eyes to purple eyes, and could do nothing but stare at what he found. That glint was back, much, much stronger than before. “Don't. Touch. My. Family.”
Even the tone... How had a timid and so very enduring and silently suffering nation been able to have a child that was this much like his papa? Maybe it was the other parent... But not really. This ... possessive craziness...
He jerked one hand upwards, a fist finding her stomach. The sheer brutal force of the hit lifted her middle a bit, but she didn't let go, just started to actually strangle him. “Neither you nor him.” And he realized that she had just spoken Russian, a very cold, very hateful, but flawless Russian.
Recently the Latvian government passed a law that required shops to make it possible for non-Russian-speaking Latvians to buy their stuff there... meaning that the staff had to be able to speak Latvian at least fairly well...
----
He had known that something was off that day. Something was terribly off. As if someone had cut one of his hands off, or one foot, or anything else... Something that had always been there wasn't there anymore. He had walked through the streets of his capital, and...
He had stopped and stood in the middle of the street, dumbfounded. Cars had honked, and a woman had run up to him to shove him off the street. But even as she had touched him there had been nothing... She had looked at him confusedly as he cried, light warm eyes, gentle hands that made him sit down somewhere and wiped the tears away with a handkerchief. But it didn't help, he just could not impossibly, stop crying, shaking worse than he had in years, and when little hands touched his knee and he looked up, his sight was blurred. A little girl stood there, and his eyes widened at the sight.
“I...Ivan?” That could not be. The man was long grown up. But still, he felt himself reminded of the day when he had met the nation first, a tiny, sad, lonely boy with large eyes of the same lavender color as his own. Just... that the eastern nation had not worn a dress. He could breathe again, he had not even noticed that he had been holding it. No, this wasn't Russia. But who else... this definitely wasn't a human. Old, watering eyes stared into young, insecure but calm ones, and then he suddenly understood. His voice was trembling when he reached out to lay one hand at the pale hair. “Riga?”
She laughed and replied something that he could not fully understand, Russian and Latvian words mixed into a kind of babytalk.
And when he picked her up and little arms were thrown around his neck, he still cried, cried, cried enough to fill the whole Baltic Sea.
----
She grew up, faster than he had ever seen grow someone. She was still so tiny, still so young, but brave and proud and realistic, and at some point too independent yet too... He language still horrified Latvia. It was bad enough that there were so many Russian's living in his country that refused to become his children, that his own people had to fight for their language and culture to survive in their own country. And Riga with her fluent Russian and Latvian, Riga who slipped into the other language without noticing herself sometimes... She made things worse for him.
But, at the same time, he loved her, loved her smile, her confidence, loved to braid her soft locks that were so similar to his own. Loved to see her play with other children, humans, that were not really her children yet, she wasn't really a nation... And he was sure that nobody would recognize her, even if she wanted them to. Although he doubted that she would have tried.
“Tētis, I love you.”
“Tētis, I will always stay with you.”
“Tētis, can't you speak Russian?”
“Tētis, won't you introduce me to other nations?”
“Papa, why do you hide me?”
And he winced at the Russian, and his cheeks heated at the question and he could not answer. Could not answer because she was proof that he had failed in restoring his traditions, was a proof that Russia might take advantage of. He just could not let the others know.
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But he could not always be there and look after her. There was so much work to do, meetings to attend, conferences, everything. And then, one day when he had told Riga that he would be away to a world conference and not be back until the day after tomorrow, and that she should be a good child and behave and please, please not leave the house, she did exactly that. It was early morning when she slipped out of the house, run over the dewy grass and away, away. The world was so large and beautiful and she hated how she was always restricted to just one place. Not that she wanted to go anywhere in particular, or that she had not liked her home, or anything. But she just... Wanted to see more, at least more of her father's country. And suddenly, she stood in front of another house, a house that she did not know but that was much larger than that one she lived in. She approached it carefully, admiring the large white pillars and the beautiful balcony in the front. Who could live here? The only other houses she knew, and only from pictures, were Estonia's and Lithuania's and Poland's. But this was neither of them... Who else... Maybe Belarus? She backed away a bit, the stories she had heard about the female nation weren't really encouraging (although she wondered how bad she really was; after all the stories had been told by his father, and Latvia was always scared).
“Who are you?”
She spun around at the voice, staring at the boy before her. It was as if she had looked into a mirror, the same lavender eyes, the same pale hair, just that his was a bit shorter and more straight. A child like her. She grinned widely as she realized something else.
“You speak Russian?”
“Sure. This is his house.” The boy's eyes narrowed a bit. “Who are you?”
She froze at the news. Oh. This was... exactly where she wasn't supposed to be at all. This was the person that should know of her existence least. “I am...” Her thoughts raced, and she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Vilnius.” What was that again?
“Ah.” No recognition showed in the boy's eyes. But then he suddenly smiled happily, not Russia's creepy smile that Riga's father spoke about sometimes, but a very happy one. “My name is Komi. I am Russia's son.”
“Ah...” She nodded slightly. Not good... But he fascinated her, too. Especially his nose. It was a bit too big for his face, or maybe it was the shape... she could not really tell. But it was the thing that made him different from her. Much different...
“Come in?” He extended one hand to grab her wrist, but she hastily took a few steps back. His expression faltered. “Why not?”
“I have to go home.” She explained. “My father is waiting for me.” Hopefully he would just let her go... And not call his own father or anything. That would be bad, in every way possible.
“Oh.” He considered her words. “Okay. But you will come back?”
Riga was sure that she would not, never. Not if she had any choice to stay away. This house, the nation whom it belonged to... “Maybe.” She retreated some more steps, trying not to make it look as if she was fleeing or anything. “It was nice to meet you.”
He smiled and waved. “See you again, Vilnius!”
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Okay I will^^
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The two nations had met at the door of the formerly married nation's house (actually Poland's, but over the last months Liet had been there more often than at his own house), and neither of them had really been in a mood to take much notice of the other. Latvia was too worried about the situations as a whole, his shaking had changed into something like a little earthquake and he looked more nervous than ever, even back in Soviet times. And Russia was... A mix of confused, plain jealous, confused, stunned, confused, furious, confused, smiling at the whole situation.
Liet had had Poland's baby, and it had been Vilnius.
---
However that had happened, it had caused the greatest uproar among the nations since Germany had invaded Poland. Or longer.
France had sent a letter of congratulation, UK one of condolence.
America had sent a box with burgers so the child would have something to eat that would make her tall and strong, and also declared that every nation should be free, which had been the second major attack on Lithuania's nerves.
The first one had been Russia's declaration to not recognize Vilnius as a nation and help his Lithuania to keep what was his.
The third was Germany's declaration to want to meet Vilnius, and the fourth was Poland's reaction to that which mainly consisted of “Like, totally get your hands of Liet, or I will, like, totally tell people what lame things you did in 1941!”, random chain-letter threatening and accusations.
And then Ukraine had offered to baby-sit, Hungary had started to ask questions that made Liet's head blush darker than a tomato, and Liechtenstein had asked if she would be allowed to play with the child what had made Swiss throw death threats at both paternal nations.
At some point Lithuania had crushed and Poland had went missing. Maybe when Sweden had offered them a coupon for IKEA so they could equip their child's room better, or maybe when Italy had offered to sing lullabies, or maybe when Sealand had barged in to play with the child and tell him that both of them would become great prospering nations one day.
Maybe all of it.
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Well. And Poland and the chain letters, too.
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----
They tried to get into the house. Shouting didn't work, neither Latvia's shaking little voice nor Russia's demanding, much too calm words had worked, and while the smaller nation wandered around the house to find another way in Russia decided to take a direct approach. Poland's door was not much more than a formality if the larger nation really wanted to enter. And at the moment, that was one of the things he wanted most - even that damn economic crisis did not matter right now.
After both nations had disappeared into the house, it took only a few minutes until one could see a little boy peek out from the bushes near the entry. Curious purple eyes scanned the yard and then he stood up to walk towards the door. Just that he stopped in his tracks when he heard a voice he knew.
“What are you doing here?”
The young not-quite nation whirled around, finding himself nearly face to face with a fuming, very calm, long haired, female little nation that looked so much like him, and he instinctively took a step back. He knew that glint in her eyes, he had seen it before. It seemed to be quite common in his own family... But he had never seen a stranger wearing it.
“I asked you something.”
“I wanted to see you again.” He smiled brightly. “Papa said he would want to see your fathers and greet you welcome.”
“He- what?” The glint vanished, she looked a bit nervous now... Much more like he remembered her father and his brothers. “Why?”
“He is confused.” One hand came up to grab her wrist and only tightened when she tried to pull away. “And he wants to see you. Come.”
“No! Get your hands of-” She hissed when he, without really noticing it himself, twisted her wrist a little too much while dragging her towards the door. “I don't want to!”
“But you have to.” Russia wanted to see her. Of course she had to. Because she had been told to. Right?
“No I don't have to, Komi, I don't-”
“He is not happy. You and your father have to-” He was cut short when the girl suddenly threw herself forward, the free hand grabbing his collar and Pushing him down with her weight. He did not let go of her wrist while they were falling so she had to follow him all the way down, but she did not seem as if it would have bothered her, nor the hand that came up to grab her hair and pull-
Which she stopped effectively when one delicate hand came down to apply light pressure at his windpipe. He stared up, right into her eyes, purple eyes to purple eyes, and could do nothing but stare at what he found. That glint was back, much, much stronger than before. “Don't. Touch. My. Family.”
Even the tone... How had a timid and so very enduring and silently suffering nation been able to have a child that was this much like his papa? Maybe it was the other parent... But not really. This ... possessive craziness...
He jerked one hand upwards, a fist finding her stomach. The sheer brutal force of the hit lifted her middle a bit, but she didn't let go, just started to actually strangle him. “Neither you nor him.” And he realized that she had just spoken Russian, a very cold, very hateful, but flawless Russian.
Why Russian?
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I think it would have a greater impact if you wrote the text that was in Russian in Russian.
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