Characters: Germany and Russia Location: Russia’s apartment Rating: Russia-- Time: August 30, Morning Description: Germany promised Russia they will talk. Over breakfast seems nice. Start your day productive and all that.
The smile would be disarming on anyone else, but on Russland it made Germany quake a little where he knew Berlin must be (humans called it a heart, but he thought human hearts paled in comparison to capitals). It was pitiful to be this anxious over something to simple, but things had never really been simple since he became human, had it? Germany nodded, expressionless as usual if not for the downward twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Come in, Russland had said, so Germany did, stepping in slowly like he’d just crossed the threshold to prison again (prison was not a nice place, though it made him saner than he had felt in years after the war). It had been a while since he’d lived in the Communal; the smallness of the place made him feel claustrophobic.
Ah. But that was ominous. “I slept fairly.” Fitfully, if he slept at all. “But purposes, Russland?” Germany handed the bottle to the other man, a little reluctant because that left him holding onto nothing and Russland with a liter of vodka to bash his head in if the country so wished.
"We are to talk, yes?" Russia takes the bottle from his hand, looming, staring down intensely. "Purposes. Since we need to reach an end, comrade, and you will not hand over your brother. Even for a change of clothes." Red was a good colour on Germany. It was bright and a screaming kind of colour, the kind he's seen on his soldiers during his victories.
"I am glad you slept well," he said smoothly, and gestured to the table across him where he could sit. The knife lay silent in his pocket. Oh, it was so close, so -- "Tea? Or do you want something else, comrade, before we begin? I just had breakfast. Pity America's markets, sometimes they have what I need, sometimes they don't."
kolkolkolkolkol.
It was nice that the room was silent and almost bare. Even not in his house, it at least had to look presentable.
It was disconcerting when someone was taller than he was. Germany was a prime example of his race, tall and proud. It was just that Russland was taller and less sane.
But he steeled himself.
“No, I will not hand over my brother,” he agreed, not even bothering to wonder what change of clothes meant because anything Russland fancied was probably something he did not want to know about if he could help it. Germany took another breath, just a little shaky, and moved to the table even if it meant showing Russland his back. Tense seconds until he was seated, politely thankful.
“No, thank you, Russland. I breakfasted during training. Amerika’s markets at least has potatoes on a consistent basis.” Not to mention that Germany would not take drink from the other country if he could help it.
"Did you, now, comrade?" Russia whispered, smiling as he placed the bottle inside his fridge, and then turned to face Germany, smiling serenely as he sat down. Training, he said. Germany mentioned it openly, so it must be for the city. It would not be wise if it were against him, and he mentions it openly in front of him. Ah, but Germany is a good commander to his own troops. He needs to learn more of some other things, then.
"How caring of you! You've always been like that. Very strong, very stubborn. Your soldiers were difficult to kill," Russia said, half-snarling, clenching his fist, trying not to reach over and twist his head back (protect the land protect the land protect the land with the very last drop of your blood and now he is here). "Fortunately, so were mine. Now, then, let us begin."
Russia sighed, momentarily trying to forget aggression. For the moment. He rapped a finger on the table, his voice lapsing to his more formal, harsh tone, fast and ruthless, the one that screamed commands in Stalingrad when his children failed to defend their own patch of earth. "You will be my shield. You will offer your hand to defend me, and I will leave your brother and both of your citizens alone. Anyone who goes against me will answer to you, unless of course it was provoked by me. I will not harm any of the city's children, I will leave it alone in peace. What happens in my own house, however, will stay in my own house, and you are not allowed to have a say in it otherwise. You say you are paying for your crimes. You will continue to do so. You will live in my house during certain times. You will allow me to take citizens, and of course I will politely ask them first, comrade. I will protect my comrades and their citizens. Finally, I want Lithuania in my house, as collateral for leaving your brother alone. One life for another, if you want him alive, unless you want to hand him over and I will give pieces of his limbs back to you. You will not miss your western half if you have the shell, like you've always had. You and Lithuania can take turns in my house, and Lithuania, who always works hard, will surely appreciate the reprieve. He will need it, in fact. And your brother can live well. And anything else that happens inside my house stays in it. No, you will not die, neither will Lithuania, because I need both of you alive, but as you know, there will always be something far worse than death."
And as he finished, he smiled serenely at him again. "That is all and everything I want for now, considering you don't have tanks or anything else of interest to me. Be thankful I didn't ask to have a villa from comrade Italy."
He flinched at the mention of his soldiers. Hitler had not done them a good deed by refusing to pull them out, Germany had been so ill because of Stalingrad, and they had lost anyway. His own men, reduced to rubble because his boss had been too proud to be wise. But he set that aside to listen intently to Russland's conditions, filing them away one by one in his mind as he grew paler and felt a little like he was doomed.
He would say yes. He always had.
They were at least reasonable, except for some.
"I agree to all except one. Russland, I cannot speak for Litauen's involvement in this, he is independent. You have spoken to Litauen about this? He is independent from you, in his time. Surely there is another way than to subject him to slavery--" A pause, as he remembered the alternative. "Litauen and Preußen are not related, please see reason. One cannot stand for the other."
And to distract: "And what are we to do in your house?"
He picked up on it, the subtle threat to Italien. Germany did not appreciate it, but what could he do? At least he was in a better position to claim his meister. Litauen had the misfortune of belonging to Russland once.
"I see reason, alright. To think that any form of payment on your side can alleviate my injuries!" Russia snarled, his voice dropping an octave and becoming more accented as he goes. "How dare you, to think that death can be repaid by sum, in full, throughout the years! I do not forget, comrade. You take me to be a fool, you think me blind. No, I will not allow this. I want my house, Germany. You want your brother alive? Well, I cannot be whole if my house is not filled. And it is not slavery so much as returning what's supposed to be in my house. You both will stay in my house like the Baltics have done, and you will keep your brother alive. One life for the other. Or do you want to give more? There are plenty of souls in this city, comrade," Russia smiled, humourlessly, "it might be an easier way to become one with this world, if you cannot bargain with just one. And what is so different with becoming a monster with being myself?"
He was bluffing, partly so -- but to think that there are things allowed in this world such as the consumption of souls ....
“We were all injured,” he intoned, not pleading, not yet. He considered the wisdom of telling Russland that he does take Preußen away from him in the future, but decided against it. The man might make truth the matter here, might see it as an option more than he already has. Germany had paid for his crimes for two of his humans’ generations and it seemed that he was to pay more.
Was there a way to turn things, then? Russland speaking of consuming souls terrified him more than it should. Russland as a kishin - the thought was more horrifying than anything he could think of at the moment. “No, you are right,” he said, finally, hands flat on the table as he thought and thought and thought.
“Then I shall lay my own terms, before I agree to this treaty.” Bold, perhaps, and a trifle foolish, but Germany was nothing if not thorough. “When I am to stay at your house, it will not include the hours delegated to training people for Shibusen. That is from six to nine in the mroning. You will, on top of Preußen and our citizens, leave Italien and his brother unharmed. You will also not bother Kanada, for he has functions with Shibusen here to fulfill for all of us.” They could not fight back if Russland started a quarrel with them, with the exception of his brother. The others, at least, he knew could struggle.
“And you will not, under any circumstances, eat the souls of the innocents here.” The last one was important. “Consuming souls here will end you, Russland. You will simply cease to be.” Besides, they were all American.
“Finally, you will let me speak to Litauen about these arrangements.”
"Very well, comrade," Russia said, smiling. That Germany will says something to it didn't surprise him. Speaking to Lithuania, though?
Well, he can do what he thinks he can do. But really, the bargain was fixed right in the beginning. It doesn't matter whether Germany will say 'yes' or 'no' to his terms on Lithuania; he will take Lithuania as he pleases and grind him to his bones, as he always had. Everything was just a formality. "I will let you train. I will leave the countries alone. I can even lend you a hand, if you are strong enough; you know my military firsthand, after all. Even if they are not here."
Russia laced his finger, one by one, the knife in his pocket pressing quietly against his pants as he leaned back on his chair. "Speak to Lithuania if you wish; I don't intend to, and will only move to take back what is mine." He'll not talk on souls anymore; as far as he's concerned, none of them are innocent. Especially the countries from the war.
Having some measure of control at least gave Germany a slight peace of mind enough to stop panicking. He rose to his feet, still fighting to stay expressionless, trying to keep the professional face, and extended his hand to Russland.
“Then I agree to the these terms.”
Litauen was another matter entirely. Silently, Germany apologized to the Baltic in his head, wondering if there was any way he would be able to make up for this. Not his fault, but he could have done something, tried to lessen the burden. But it was about Litauen that Russland would not budge. Perhaps more shifts, yes.
"That is good, comrade." Russia stood, smiled serenely, and shook his hand with both hands. "I am glad you understand."
That is the most that Russia can tell him, anyway. Good only for him, and Germany understanding that what he just walked in to might give him problems in the future. Well, that is alright. He moved to escort Germany out, one hand firm on his shoulder, smiling. "I am glad we got to talk, comrade!" After all, people will end up living. "Say hello to your brother to me. He will be alright, now. Ah, and good luck to your talks with Lithuania. I look forward to the results."
“Thank you,” he answered automatically, politely, allowing himself to be led to the door. His shoulder felt inexplicably painful from Russland’s touch. “I will… see you in the game later. Kuba has informed you, ja?” Germany had asked the other country to request Russland to join their team, after all. One of the many steps to something he didn’t understand yet.
“I will also see you on Saturday.” It was a very good thing that it was a Monday today.
"Yes! Comrade invited me. Very nice of everyone! I am glad I could play, even though I came in late." Or rather, he was there earlier than everybody thought, but surfaced a little later on as he decided to learn the world first. "See you Saturday, comrade!"
Germany breathed once, twice, calmed himself from that cheerful greeting and nodded. And then he was briskly making his way out the corridor, feeling much like his knees were made of kuchen.
Come in, Russland had said, so Germany did, stepping in slowly like he’d just crossed the threshold to prison again (prison was not a nice place, though it made him saner than he had felt in years after the war). It had been a while since he’d lived in the Communal; the smallness of the place made him feel claustrophobic.
Ah. But that was ominous. “I slept fairly.” Fitfully, if he slept at all. “But purposes, Russland?” Germany handed the bottle to the other man, a little reluctant because that left him holding onto nothing and Russland with a liter of vodka to bash his head in if the country so wished.
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"I am glad you slept well," he said smoothly, and gestured to the table across him where he could sit. The knife lay silent in his pocket. Oh, it was so close, so -- "Tea? Or do you want something else, comrade, before we begin? I just had breakfast. Pity America's markets, sometimes they have what I need, sometimes they don't."
kolkolkolkolkol.
It was nice that the room was silent and almost bare. Even not in his house, it at least had to look presentable.
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But he steeled himself.
“No, I will not hand over my brother,” he agreed, not even bothering to wonder what change of clothes meant because anything Russland fancied was probably something he did not want to know about if he could help it. Germany took another breath, just a little shaky, and moved to the table even if it meant showing Russland his back. Tense seconds until he was seated, politely thankful.
“No, thank you, Russland. I breakfasted during training. Amerika’s markets at least has potatoes on a consistent basis.” Not to mention that Germany would not take drink from the other country if he could help it.
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"How caring of you! You've always been like that. Very strong, very stubborn. Your soldiers were difficult to kill," Russia said, half-snarling, clenching his fist, trying not to reach over and twist his head back (protect the land protect the land protect the land with the very last drop of your blood and now he is here). "Fortunately, so were mine. Now, then, let us begin."
Russia sighed, momentarily trying to forget aggression. For the moment. He rapped a finger on the table, his voice lapsing to his more formal, harsh tone, fast and ruthless, the one that screamed commands in Stalingrad when his children failed to defend their own patch of earth. "You will be my shield. You will offer your hand to defend me, and I will leave your brother and both of your citizens alone. Anyone who goes against me will answer to you, unless of course it was provoked by me. I will not harm any of the city's children, I will leave it alone in peace. What happens in my own house, however, will stay in my own house, and you are not allowed to have a say in it otherwise. You say you are paying for your crimes. You will continue to do so. You will live in my house during certain times. You will allow me to take citizens, and of course I will politely ask them first, comrade. I will protect my comrades and their citizens. Finally, I want Lithuania in my house, as collateral for leaving your brother alone. One life for another, if you want him alive, unless you want to hand him over and I will give pieces of his limbs back to you. You will not miss your western half if you have the shell, like you've always had. You and Lithuania can take turns in my house, and Lithuania, who always works hard, will surely appreciate the reprieve. He will need it, in fact. And your brother can live well. And anything else that happens inside my house stays in it. No, you will not die, neither will Lithuania, because I need both of you alive, but as you know, there will always be something far worse than death."
And as he finished, he smiled serenely at him again. "That is all and everything I want for now, considering you don't have tanks or anything else of interest to me. Be thankful I didn't ask to have a villa from comrade Italy."
Reply
He would say yes. He always had.
They were at least reasonable, except for some.
"I agree to all except one. Russland, I cannot speak for Litauen's involvement in this, he is independent. You have spoken to Litauen about this? He is independent from you, in his time. Surely there is another way than to subject him to slavery--" A pause, as he remembered the alternative. "Litauen and Preußen are not related, please see reason. One cannot stand for the other."
And to distract: "And what are we to do in your house?"
He picked up on it, the subtle threat to Italien. Germany did not appreciate it, but what could he do? At least he was in a better position to claim his meister. Litauen had the misfortune of belonging to Russland once.
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He was bluffing, partly so -- but to think that there are things allowed in this world such as the consumption of souls ....
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Was there a way to turn things, then? Russland speaking of consuming souls terrified him more than it should. Russland as a kishin - the thought was more horrifying than anything he could think of at the moment. “No, you are right,” he said, finally, hands flat on the table as he thought and thought and thought.
“Then I shall lay my own terms, before I agree to this treaty.” Bold, perhaps, and a trifle foolish, but Germany was nothing if not thorough. “When I am to stay at your house, it will not include the hours delegated to training people for Shibusen. That is from six to nine in the mroning. You will, on top of Preußen and our citizens, leave Italien and his brother unharmed. You will also not bother Kanada, for he has functions with Shibusen here to fulfill for all of us.” They could not fight back if Russland started a quarrel with them, with the exception of his brother. The others, at least, he knew could struggle.
“And you will not, under any circumstances, eat the souls of the innocents here.” The last one was important. “Consuming souls here will end you, Russland. You will simply cease to be.” Besides, they were all American.
“Finally, you will let me speak to Litauen about these arrangements.”
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"Very well, comrade," Russia said, smiling. That Germany will says something to it didn't surprise him. Speaking to Lithuania, though?
Well, he can do what he thinks he can do. But really, the bargain was fixed right in the beginning. It doesn't matter whether Germany will say 'yes' or 'no' to his terms on Lithuania; he will take Lithuania as he pleases and grind him to his bones, as he always had. Everything was just a formality. "I will let you train. I will leave the countries alone. I can even lend you a hand, if you are strong enough; you know my military firsthand, after all. Even if they are not here."
Russia laced his finger, one by one, the knife in his pocket pressing quietly against his pants as he leaned back on his chair. "Speak to Lithuania if you wish; I don't intend to, and will only move to take back what is mine." He'll not talk on souls anymore; as far as he's concerned, none of them are innocent. Especially the countries from the war.
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“Then I agree to the these terms.”
Litauen was another matter entirely. Silently, Germany apologized to the Baltic in his head, wondering if there was any way he would be able to make up for this. Not his fault, but he could have done something, tried to lessen the burden. But it was about Litauen that Russland would not budge. Perhaps more shifts, yes.
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That is the most that Russia can tell him, anyway. Good only for him, and Germany understanding that what he just walked in to might give him problems in the future. Well, that is alright. He moved to escort Germany out, one hand firm on his shoulder, smiling. "I am glad we got to talk, comrade!" After all, people will end up living. "Say hello to your brother to me. He will be alright, now. Ah, and good luck to your talks with Lithuania. I look forward to the results."
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“I will also see you on Saturday.” It was a very good thing that it was a Monday today.
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