[Fic Fill] White Nest
TITLE: White Nest
AUTHOR/ARTIST: erueru_2d
RECIPIENT: wizzard890
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Belarus, Ukraine, Russia.
RATING: PG-13-ish (for Belarus POV and some jokes)
NOTES: Many thanks to mississippienne for proofreading.
SUMMARY: "In February 2010, Moscow received the heaviest snowfall in its history: 26 inches in four days." Snowed in, Russia and his sisters spend the day together, having tentative sibling time.
* * *
“Russia sent you what?”
“The keys. And he invited us to dinner.”
“To his apartment at Volkhonka?”
“No, to our-I mean, his old house.”
“And he sent you the keys.”
“Yes, he did. So, are you going?”
“I thought it was demolished.”
“What?”
“The house.”
“Oh. Yes… Yes, it was. Belarus, are you-”
“I’m going, Ukraine.”
---
The sky above the old Moscow suburb was a vast flowing of dark gray silk. The first snowflakes fell down lazily, slowly. Light and small, they floated past roofs and trees, portending a long snowfall.
Belarus tugged up the furry sleeve cuffs of her black coat and pulled off her gloves. She glanced at Ukraine, who was squeezing the keys in her hand and staring ahead disbelievingly, transfixed by the sight of Russia’s mansion where the siblings spent centuries together. It was re-built and modified many times, but now it seemed awfully shrunken. Only the main building remained; the rest were, indeed, demolished. The house had a completely new look: flavescent with white cornice, it produced mixed feelings of fake joyfulness and genuine demureness.
The garden remained here, as well, and it looked even bigger than twenty years ago. Bushes and flower beds slept peacefully under the soft blanket of snow. Belarus felt a strange urge to smile - just a little, with the corners of her lips.
Would you like me to sing you a lullaby, my dearest brother’s garden? The Blizzard may chant it for you later, but its voice is hoarse and mirthless…
Soon, Ukraine let them both inside, and Russia-ah; brother looks so handsome, even in this silly lavender pink apron-greeted his sisters. He hugged Ukraine first. She wrapped her arms up his back with a short laugh the flickering uncertainty of which did not escape Belarus.
Finally, Russia turned to her. Belarus threw a disapproving look at his apron. “It doesn’t suit you.” She lifted up her expectant gaze to cross with his hesitant and slightly frightened look. He seemed to remember something urgent.
“Wait, Belarus. I’ve got something for you,” mumbled Russia before rushing off to the hall.
Something better than your embrace?
Belarus realized she was pulling at the delicate buttons on the ribbed cowl neckline of her blue pullover. Ukraine glanced at her uneasily.
“I found this in the southern passage near your room.” Russia stopped in the doorway and smiled. “You were in a hurry, remember?” Something glistened in his hand. Belarus half-started towards him to take a better look at the thing her brother had brought, but this flicker of solid moonlight she abruptly recognized, and so she hesitated. It was a thin silver snake - an adder - coiled in two glimmering rings. The snake seemed almost alive.
“This is my bracelet,” she breathed, feeling warmth on her cheeks.
Without saying a word, Russia walked to her and gently laid a hand on the top of her head.
---
There was a soft white wall outside the window. It was moving. Belarus watched the snow falling down, and sometimes it felt like this white mass was completely still, as if the house itself was going up to the skies, carrying them away, higher and higher. It was very quiet in their lounge. They ate dinner made by Russia - hot plov and blini, familiar food served in unfamiliar dishes. It was getting dark, and the three siblings were sitting on a big sofa in front of fireplace. Ukraine was knitting Russia’s mittens, sighing contentedly between every row. It was Russia’s work, actually, but Ukraine took it in her slightly callous hands and started forming new stitches almost unconsciously. To her left, Russia didn’t say anything; he just smiled at her with rare warmth in his eyes. Belarus arched an eyebrow at him. After all, he let elder sister finish it, even though he knits better than she. Probably better than anyone.
Her brother was the best at everything except the most important things.
Belarus leaned back and watched Russia look into the fire for a while. His eyes were dark gray in the soft orange light. When she touched his sleeve with tentative fingers, he didn’t even flinch. She sighed a bit and waved a hand in front of his eyes. Her silver bracelet flashed, reflecting the flames; Russia blinked and looked at her.
“Her name’s Uzhanka.”
“The bracelet’s?” Russia slightly tilted his head.
“No.” Belarus suppressed a smile and tugged at his sleeve. “My pet snake. She lives at my house in Minsk.”
“I hope it’s not venomous?”
“Of course not.” Belarus pouted at him. “Uzhanka is a non-venomous adder. And adders always liked me. Don’t you remember?”
“Ah,” Russia chuckled, remembering. “I do. You used to bring them home and Ukraine scolded you--”
“I didn’t,” Ukraine laughed from another side of sofa. “I just told her it might scare our cat and her kittens. Too bad, Ms. Snake, the position of mouse hunter had been already taken.”
“But Uzhanka is a better hunter!” Belarus clutched Russia’s wrist; her eyes widened. “Besides, she’s very useful at milking the cows.”
Russia froze. “You… you still do that?”
“I still let my snakes suck their milk, yes.” She looked straight into his eyes. “For a better yield.”
Russia’s face suddenly turned whiter than the snow outside the window. “A yield. I, um. I see.”
“Belaruskaye malako,” she purred with a dead serious expression on her face, “is very nutritious. You like my milk, don’t you? I’m planning to increase the dairy export, and--”
“Such a heavy snowfall,” suddenly announced Ukraine. “Look at these huge piles! I can’t imagine what’s happening on Moscow roads now.”
Russia gave her a grateful look. “I bet the traffic is dead.”
“Looks like we’re trapped here tonight,” said Belarus.
Russia stood up, eyes squinted to see the ultramarine shades that twilight cast on the snow. He walked to the window. “You both can stay if you want. I will sleep on the sofa.”
Ukraine put down the unfinished mitten and joined him. After a moment of hesitation, she squeezed his hand gently. “Yes. I think it’s better to wait till it’s over.”
Belarus blinked, stared at them, examined Ukraine’s neck and shoulders. She hasn’t seen her sister so relaxed for a long time. Just a few weeks ago there was only election, election in Ukraine’s head, stressing her out, making her fingers and voice shake with anxiety every time they talked about politics.
But now, all worries were covered with a big soft blanket that smelled like frost. It was easy. White. Reassuring. Belarus closed her eyes. A meeting with my boss-with Father-at 9 in the morning. What would he say tomorrow if she skipped it?
The fire's quiet crackling flowed over her ears, making her thoughts drowsy and calm.
She doesn’t care.
She will stay here.
* * *
Volkhonka is one of the central streets of Moscow.
In February 2010, Viktor Yanukovich won Ukrainian presidential election with 48.95% of the vote. Later he vowed to end years of acrimony with Russia, saying that ties between Russia and Ukraine "should never be the way they were for the past five years".
Traditionally, many Belarusians kept non-venomous snakes as pets. They believed that, if snake “milks” a cow, just a little, the yield would increase (kinky, I know). Snake is usually a good character in Belarusian folk tales.
Belarus people really call their president Lukashenko a “father” (bat’ka).
AUTHOR/ARTIST: erueru_2d
RECIPIENT: wizzard890
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Belarus, Ukraine, Russia.
RATING: PG-13-ish (for Belarus POV and some jokes)
NOTES: Many thanks to mississippienne for proofreading.
SUMMARY: "In February 2010, Moscow received the heaviest snowfall in its history: 26 inches in four days." Snowed in, Russia and his sisters spend the day together, having tentative sibling time.
* * *
“Russia sent you what?”
“The keys. And he invited us to dinner.”
“To his apartment at Volkhonka?”
“No, to our-I mean, his old house.”
“And he sent you the keys.”
“Yes, he did. So, are you going?”
“I thought it was demolished.”
“What?”
“The house.”
“Oh. Yes… Yes, it was. Belarus, are you-”
“I’m going, Ukraine.”
---
The sky above the old Moscow suburb was a vast flowing of dark gray silk. The first snowflakes fell down lazily, slowly. Light and small, they floated past roofs and trees, portending a long snowfall.
Belarus tugged up the furry sleeve cuffs of her black coat and pulled off her gloves. She glanced at Ukraine, who was squeezing the keys in her hand and staring ahead disbelievingly, transfixed by the sight of Russia’s mansion where the siblings spent centuries together. It was re-built and modified many times, but now it seemed awfully shrunken. Only the main building remained; the rest were, indeed, demolished. The house had a completely new look: flavescent with white cornice, it produced mixed feelings of fake joyfulness and genuine demureness.
The garden remained here, as well, and it looked even bigger than twenty years ago. Bushes and flower beds slept peacefully under the soft blanket of snow. Belarus felt a strange urge to smile - just a little, with the corners of her lips.
Would you like me to sing you a lullaby, my dearest brother’s garden? The Blizzard may chant it for you later, but its voice is hoarse and mirthless…
Soon, Ukraine let them both inside, and Russia-ah; brother looks so handsome, even in this silly lavender pink apron-greeted his sisters. He hugged Ukraine first. She wrapped her arms up his back with a short laugh the flickering uncertainty of which did not escape Belarus.
Finally, Russia turned to her. Belarus threw a disapproving look at his apron. “It doesn’t suit you.” She lifted up her expectant gaze to cross with his hesitant and slightly frightened look. He seemed to remember something urgent.
“Wait, Belarus. I’ve got something for you,” mumbled Russia before rushing off to the hall.
Something better than your embrace?
Belarus realized she was pulling at the delicate buttons on the ribbed cowl neckline of her blue pullover. Ukraine glanced at her uneasily.
“I found this in the southern passage near your room.” Russia stopped in the doorway and smiled. “You were in a hurry, remember?” Something glistened in his hand. Belarus half-started towards him to take a better look at the thing her brother had brought, but this flicker of solid moonlight she abruptly recognized, and so she hesitated. It was a thin silver snake - an adder - coiled in two glimmering rings. The snake seemed almost alive.
“This is my bracelet,” she breathed, feeling warmth on her cheeks.
Without saying a word, Russia walked to her and gently laid a hand on the top of her head.
---
There was a soft white wall outside the window. It was moving. Belarus watched the snow falling down, and sometimes it felt like this white mass was completely still, as if the house itself was going up to the skies, carrying them away, higher and higher. It was very quiet in their lounge. They ate dinner made by Russia - hot plov and blini, familiar food served in unfamiliar dishes. It was getting dark, and the three siblings were sitting on a big sofa in front of fireplace. Ukraine was knitting Russia’s mittens, sighing contentedly between every row. It was Russia’s work, actually, but Ukraine took it in her slightly callous hands and started forming new stitches almost unconsciously. To her left, Russia didn’t say anything; he just smiled at her with rare warmth in his eyes. Belarus arched an eyebrow at him. After all, he let elder sister finish it, even though he knits better than she. Probably better than anyone.
Her brother was the best at everything except the most important things.
Belarus leaned back and watched Russia look into the fire for a while. His eyes were dark gray in the soft orange light. When she touched his sleeve with tentative fingers, he didn’t even flinch. She sighed a bit and waved a hand in front of his eyes. Her silver bracelet flashed, reflecting the flames; Russia blinked and looked at her.
“Her name’s Uzhanka.”
“The bracelet’s?” Russia slightly tilted his head.
“No.” Belarus suppressed a smile and tugged at his sleeve. “My pet snake. She lives at my house in Minsk.”
“I hope it’s not venomous?”
“Of course not.” Belarus pouted at him. “Uzhanka is a non-venomous adder. And adders always liked me. Don’t you remember?”
“Ah,” Russia chuckled, remembering. “I do. You used to bring them home and Ukraine scolded you--”
“I didn’t,” Ukraine laughed from another side of sofa. “I just told her it might scare our cat and her kittens. Too bad, Ms. Snake, the position of mouse hunter had been already taken.”
“But Uzhanka is a better hunter!” Belarus clutched Russia’s wrist; her eyes widened. “Besides, she’s very useful at milking the cows.”
Russia froze. “You… you still do that?”
“I still let my snakes suck their milk, yes.” She looked straight into his eyes. “For a better yield.”
Russia’s face suddenly turned whiter than the snow outside the window. “A yield. I, um. I see.”
“Belaruskaye malako,” she purred with a dead serious expression on her face, “is very nutritious. You like my milk, don’t you? I’m planning to increase the dairy export, and--”
“Such a heavy snowfall,” suddenly announced Ukraine. “Look at these huge piles! I can’t imagine what’s happening on Moscow roads now.”
Russia gave her a grateful look. “I bet the traffic is dead.”
“Looks like we’re trapped here tonight,” said Belarus.
Russia stood up, eyes squinted to see the ultramarine shades that twilight cast on the snow. He walked to the window. “You both can stay if you want. I will sleep on the sofa.”
Ukraine put down the unfinished mitten and joined him. After a moment of hesitation, she squeezed his hand gently. “Yes. I think it’s better to wait till it’s over.”
Belarus blinked, stared at them, examined Ukraine’s neck and shoulders. She hasn’t seen her sister so relaxed for a long time. Just a few weeks ago there was only election, election in Ukraine’s head, stressing her out, making her fingers and voice shake with anxiety every time they talked about politics.
But now, all worries were covered with a big soft blanket that smelled like frost. It was easy. White. Reassuring. Belarus closed her eyes. A meeting with my boss-with Father-at 9 in the morning. What would he say tomorrow if she skipped it?
The fire's quiet crackling flowed over her ears, making her thoughts drowsy and calm.
She doesn’t care.
She will stay here.
* * *
Volkhonka is one of the central streets of Moscow.
In February 2010, Viktor Yanukovich won Ukrainian presidential election with 48.95% of the vote. Later he vowed to end years of acrimony with Russia, saying that ties between Russia and Ukraine "should never be the way they were for the past five years".
Traditionally, many Belarusians kept non-venomous snakes as pets. They believed that, if snake “milks” a cow, just a little, the yield would increase (kinky, I know). Snake is usually a good character in Belarusian folk tales.
Belarus people really call their president Lukashenko a “father” (bat’ka).