Broken Angel

[toris_lietuvos]

Who: Poland (totally_feliks), Lithuania (toris_lietuvos)
When: After this
Where: Poland's room
Rating: PG13
Summary: the aftermath of the big fight
Warnings: tragedy

Comments

[totally_feliks]

It was unfamiliar to him, what he was experiencing now. Certainly not the pain, nor the gradual but faint feeling of recovery, not even the feeling that something was touching his injuries, which hurt and he couldn't muster the strength to make it stop, but the scenes printing themselves under his eyelids.
Unpleasant dreams were so rare to him that he could do nothing but watch as it unfolded in front of his eyes, not certain where the dream began and the memory ended, but finding it odd to watch himself, helpless to intervene.

He wasn't sure when he had crossed over one of his eastern borders, only that he shouldn't have and everyone would be unhappy when he got home. Boss was going to give him a right telling off, and it worried the little nation more than the bloodstained leather belts the older Poland could see creeping up the legs of the dream-pony he was riding through the dark forest. He seemed oblivious, almost as though they weren't real, and though Poland now yelled, it seemed nothing could hear him, as the snow started to fall and small pony and boy continued through into a clearing.

In time with himself, both Polands stopped and looked, seeing someone there and being unwilling to go any further. Only one of them could identify what was there, as the child that was also Poland stopped and stared in confusion. He wasn't sure what it was. He'd been told there were bad things out this way, and even though his intuition said it was a nation, it just didn't...seem like one. For one thing, it's lips were blue, (He'd never seen hypothermia, and didn't know what the cold could do) and it's hands were far too red as it looked down at the snow collecting in them like it was a personal enemy wanting to destroy it. And it was much bigger- especially it's nose- than him...even though it looked younger. He didn't like that, being small was no fun. So what was it? He wondered if it was an ogre, or a troll....

Confused, the smaller boy tilted his head, looking at it's worn and threadbare coat, and then at it's hands. Didn't it have mittens? His own little fingers tightened in his leather gloves, lined and named, and wondered if he should give them to it. It seemed cold....but Poland wasn't the kind to share, and he liked his gloves...he wasn't going to give them away. And as the snow fell more, he wanted to go. Everyone would be waiting for him, and he wanted to share the fun with Liet! He was going to make a snowman for him, and they could have a snowball fight, an' Poland would make the biggest snowball and he was gonna win! Whatever it was in the clearing was suddenly forgotten about...while the older Poland stared in horror, recognising it as what would be his enemy for years to come.

Abruptly, he tugged on the reins of his horse, and with a quiet "C'mon Chester" to his steed he kicked his heels into his fat pony and galloped away, back through the forest, ignoring the rivers of red that opened before him, the branches which turned into limbs and snapped as he brushed past them. They rushed further forward, further still, until the boy and pony disappeared into a huge violet-irised eye dangling from severed ligaments twisting from the sky, and the older Poland screamed in his dream...

His reaction was nothing so spectacular in reality, he had not the strength for that, but slowly he escaped from the nightmare and pale blond eyelashes fluttered as his eyes opened feebly, disoriented and confused.