Trains. Aa-ha, trains are nice. [The Russian nation would muse to himself, the watch in his pocket flickering on just in time for anyone listening to hear the amused chuckle from the somewhat husky-looking man. He steps off the train, a bright smile settled in on his childish, round face as he takes a moment to look around.
He far prefers travelling by train, as the last time he’d been in an airborne vehicle, he’d jumped out and damaged his back rather badly. However, when he takes that moment to take a good look around, he notices something. And he notices it right away.]
…Is not being Saint Petersburg at all. [His accented voice comments, a frown already moving across those childish features, bright violet eyes hardening a little in confusion. The train behind him has already started to leave; and would be impossible to catch up to by now.]
…Did we miss our correct stop? …Am almost certain we were getting off at the right place? Ah… aaaaaah… [His shoulders slump as he rummages in his pockets for his cell phone.
Out clatters out a certain watch, and he takes a moment to stare at the thing on the ground. A good ground-up view of the rather tall ashen-blonde man is now on the recording object.]
…Am not remembering having this on us, either. Oh dear… [He leans down to pick it up, momentarily forgetting that he was about to call home. That… can wait for a moment. After all, he isn’t getting any more lost, staying in one place for a moment.]
Third Person:
“You could stay.” He offered, an almost pained look settled on what was usually such a bright and cheerful face. He was trying—oh, so trying very hard to keep calm about this. But with the sounds of many Germans shouting, the sound of hammers beating at a wall he had tried so hard to keep up for the sole purpose of keeping something from running away from him… Oh, it was so very hard.
The Prussian’s back was to him, now, and those dead, crimson eyes were refusing to look at him as they looked instead toward the wall that was moments from being torn down. He didn’t answer the Russian. Of course he wouldn’t answer him, for his brother was coming. His beloved West Germany was coming to take him back, to reclaim his brother whom had been behind the wall of East Germany for so long. “It was not so bad. Was it? Your time spent here with us. We took care of you, da? We made sure you were well fed. You had a home, you had clothes on your back. There are many who did not live the privileged life you did. …Please, Prussiya... You do not have to leave.”
He spoke again, this time with a hint of desperation in his voice. Prussia took a step forward, not a single glance was given back to the man offering to give him the world. Or, at least, what part of the world Ivan had that wasn’t crumbling around his shoulders. His beloved Union, it was falling apart. …But he would stand strong.
Right?
Finally, the Prussian turned his head, a very slight flash of brighter, livelier eyes met the Russian’s own violet orbs. Two words escaped the Prussian’s mouth, soft, but cold. ‘Do svidaniya.’ He spoke in perfect Russian, before turning and starting to walk toward the crumbling wall. Ivan could feel his heart clenching, his teeth ground hard in his mouth, and he felt some sort of fire building in his stomach.
[Canon || Ivan Braginski / Russia || Axis Powers Hetalia || Reserve || 3 of 3 ]
Trains. Aa-ha, trains are nice. [The Russian nation would muse to himself, the watch in his pocket flickering on just in time for anyone listening to hear the amused chuckle from the somewhat husky-looking man. He steps off the train, a bright smile settled in on his childish, round face as he takes a moment to look around.
He far prefers travelling by train, as the last time he’d been in an airborne vehicle, he’d jumped out and damaged his back rather badly. However, when he takes that moment to take a good look around, he notices something. And he notices it right away.]
…Is not being Saint Petersburg at all. [His accented voice comments, a frown already moving across those childish features, bright violet eyes hardening a little in confusion. The train behind him has already started to leave; and would be impossible to catch up to by now.]
…Did we miss our correct stop? …Am almost certain we were getting off at the right place? Ah… aaaaaah… [His shoulders slump as he rummages in his pockets for his cell phone.
Out clatters out a certain watch, and he takes a moment to stare at the thing on the ground. A good ground-up view of the rather tall ashen-blonde man is now on the recording object.]
…Am not remembering having this on us, either. Oh dear… [He leans down to pick it up, momentarily forgetting that he was about to call home. That… can wait for a moment. After all, he isn’t getting any more lost, staying in one place for a moment.]
Third Person:
“You could stay.” He offered, an almost pained look settled on what was usually such a bright and cheerful face. He was trying—oh, so trying very hard to keep calm about this. But with the sounds of many Germans shouting, the sound of hammers beating at a wall he had tried so hard to keep up for the sole purpose of keeping something from running away from him… Oh, it was so very hard.
The Prussian’s back was to him, now, and those dead, crimson eyes were refusing to look at him as they looked instead toward the wall that was moments from being torn down. He didn’t answer the Russian. Of course he wouldn’t answer him, for his brother was coming. His beloved West Germany was coming to take him back, to reclaim his brother whom had been behind the wall of East Germany for so long. “It was not so bad. Was it? Your time spent here with us. We took care of you, da? We made sure you were well fed. You had a home, you had clothes on your back. There are many who did not live the privileged life you did. …Please, Prussiya... You do not have to leave.”
He spoke again, this time with a hint of desperation in his voice.
Prussia took a step forward, not a single glance was given back to the man offering to give him the world. Or, at least, what part of the world Ivan had that wasn’t crumbling around his shoulders. His beloved Union, it was falling apart. …But he would stand strong.
Right?
Finally, the Prussian turned his head, a very slight flash of brighter, livelier eyes met the Russian’s own violet orbs. Two words escaped the Prussian’s mouth, soft, but cold. ‘Do svidaniya.’ He spoke in perfect Russian, before turning and starting to walk toward the crumbling wall.
Ivan could feel his heart clenching, his teeth ground hard in his mouth, and he felt some sort of fire building in his stomach.
Everything.
He’d lost… everything.