towerofanimus

Entry tags:

Weary

Characters: Russia and YOU
Setting: Floor 12; Floor 11
Format: Either; Starting out Prose, but will change to match. ♥
Summary: Ivan explores the new rooms!
Warnings: None currently; possibly future language

A. Floor Twelve

Ivan had been through a lot in his life--through war, and conquest, invasion and genocide. But even with that experience, the tower was starting to run him down. Being cut off from his people, from his own home stung enough as it was--it was an ache that had started in his chest, and just would not go away. Honestly he felt a little sick--and the lack of alcohol didn't help. At least when life had gotten bad before he hadn't been sober.

The room wasn't helping. Especially not when he realized the significance of it--worlds being destroyed, over and over again. No, not just worlds, universes. He couldn't recognize them, the stares imploding, the planets being drained dry, and he stalled in the center of the room, watching, as it happened over and over again. And he waited, wanting to see if his world was being subjected to the same thing. He remembered vaguely the letter he had gotten when he had woken up--figured it was just a ploy, a lie to get him to sit down and behave. Now, he was not so sure.

B. Floor Eleven

The open air was a nice change to the cooped up tower, but it was missing something--it wasn't quite the same as his home had been. Perhaps it was the air, or the fact that the room didn't seem exactly physically possible (despite the fact that he was in it, and therefore it had to be). At the very least, there were flowers, and he did like flowers, despite them not being his, and the lake made a pretty sight (if not a tad confusing).

Either way, it was better than sitting inside, by a long shot, and the edges of the room were open. He wondered vaguely if he could get out of the tower that way--after all, he had survived bigger jumps before. A broken leg was a small price to pay for getting out of the tower. Though even as he mused on this, he knew it likely wouldn't work--and if it didn't, he would have a broken limb to contend with while being trapped. Perhaps he could find another nation, and get them to take the plunge--see what happened.

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"I will be Prussia until I fade off of this rock like Rome and my grandfather." he snapped, loosing his temper completely at the larger man. "You remember them as what they were and I will be known as Prussia!" he roared. It was identity, it was who he was and who he fought tooth and bloody nail to be.

"You are depressing, you're always depressing. Those decades I was forced to live with you? I would've taken Napoleon over that shit. As for the planets, yeah, what you feel is exactly what I feel. Numb. I've felt that way since all of you signed my fucking death warrant!" he growled and clenched his fist more. He'd always had anger issues, but with being here it made his fuse even shorter.

"I am remembering you as Prossiya as well," he replied, blinking slowly at the other. "I am also remembering you as Teutonic Knight, but I am not calling you that any more either. Just like you are not calling me Moskoviya. I will be calling you Prossiya though, since you are really wanting. And I do not think you will be fading. I think it is possible for you to be becoming country again; you are being here still, after all--there is having to be reason for it."

Ivan raised a brow. "I am finding myself being very happy, actually," he replied, the smile sliding back on his face as punctuation to that, and he shook his head slowly. "Your death warrant was being signed moment you were joining your brat. And if you had not been committing such atrocities to me, I would not have been doing it back." He shook his head slowly, not wanting to think about that war, because really he had hated it.

He eyed the other's fists. "Are you wanting to be fighting? I am not minding sparring with you," he said, and it was true--it would be a nice release of steam for both of them.

"Just... shut up Russia." he said, he knew he couldn't even attempt to spar with him in the shape his right arm was in. Ivan would easily throw him to the ground and beat the shit out of him with such a handicap.

Prussia knew that he'd been asking for trouble once he allowed the fallen holy Roman Empire to join him. But at the same time he knew that Germania would've had his hide had he left the kid to fend for himself. Besides, he'd had a good run, people still remembered him, so at least there was that. The thing that pissed him off was Russia trying to seem like he was in right about atrocities.

"No I don't call you Moskoviya, nor do I call your sister Kievan Rus even if that is your proper name. I am dead and my name will die with me." he said quietly.

Ivan gave a tiny shrug when the other told him to shut up--he figured that was a no, even though he would have been more than willing to fight with his own handicap. "So be it," he replied, with a small smile.

At least there wasn't any argument about the war--he very well might have hit Gilbert if there had been. While neither of them had been particularly in the right, he had just done what had been done to him back to Prussia. Back to Germany.

He raised a brow at the other's next words though, and gave a smile. "I do not think you are dead. You are still being here. And you are obviously being here for reason, da?" he paused a moment, leaned back on his heels. "Pol'sha was being here when he was not being in existence... I am thinking you might be being same." He gave a tiny shrug, looking thoughtful. "If anyone is being depressing one, I am thinking that it is being you."

"Well at least you think theres a reason I'm here at least." he grumbled and made no comment about the part of him being depressing. He didn't like Russia, he found the man unsettling and he would never forgive him for what he did to him all those years he had kept him as a prisoner of war.

"Since when were you the optimistic one, and no, I'm not joining you before you ask me that once again."

"Da, there ought to be being," he replied and shrugged. After all it made sense to him, and he couldn't really think that there was any other explanation. Besides, why would they bring him here if he wasn't worth something? Very little, maybe, but it was something.

"I am not being optimistic. Just being reasonable," he said, and shook his head slightly, thoughtful, eyes on the planets and stars around them, rather than on the smaller Prussian. "I am not asking you to be joining me. You are already being part of me, little bit." He smiled then, and gave the other another tiny shrug. "Besides, you were being a terrible house guest."

"Those paintings were creepy and it wasn't like I had a choice to be there. Your sister is terrifying and the rest of them looked like they were about to shit bricks if I said anything to them." he grumbled, not even bothering to turn his head to speak directly to him. "So I had more than enough reason to be a terrible guest, not to mention I ws being torn apart little by little." his voice nor face betrayed anything other than irritation.

Ivan gave a tiny shrug. "It was not being that bad. Paintings are fine, and sisters are very...nice...." he replied, and gave a tiny grimace--he did love his sisters even though they were very odd, and he shrugged a little, with a sheepish sort of smile. "You were still being a terrible guest. Better than times you were invading though..."

"Yeah, you were blatantly oblivious to the entire thing the entire time the USSR was together. Need I remind you the famine you put your big sister through. Course, that was just a footnote." he said coldy and looked up at Russia. He still held a strong distrust of the man and a loathing for him in many ways.

"When I was invading was awesome, I've never seen you struggle so much."

Ivan's eyes narrowed at the remembrance at that famine--and he could certainly remember it clearly, far too clearly for his liking. He hated when his sister cried, but it had been ordered, and he could not refuse orders. "Stop speaking about things you are knowing nothing on," he replied, and there was anger there, posture stiffening and nails digging in to his palms. As Russia it may have been a 'footnote' as the other said, but as Ivan he didn't like doing it and it brought a bad taste to his mouth.

"You were most amusing of people who were invading me. Especially before when you were just Teutonic knight. I have never been seeing an army fall through ice so fast," he replied.

"Know nothing on, Russia, the world knows about that. Knows quite a bit if you really want to know." he knew things like that enraged the larger man and he couldn't help but antagonize him. It was what the albino did, rage made people callous and for a tactician it was exactly what he wanted.

"I was still a kid back then and you lead us into that pass knowing that the ice was thin. At least I wasn't like the french trying to invade Moscow. I've made blunders but I've never been a complete tactical idiot."

Ivan's lips thinned, and his eyes narrowed, and even though he previously denied the existence of this famine, he certainly knew it existed. "You are knowing as well as I am knowing that we cannot be stopping doing what our leaders want," he replied, and there was ice to his words, anger, and his shoulders were stiff as he watched the Prussian.

"I was being a child too. It is not my fault you were foolish enough to be wearing heavy armor on ice. It was like you were never seeing ice before," he replied, raising a brow. "At least Francis got to my heart, da? You could not even take me when I was already being weak from invasions."

"Maybe not, but you could've done a better job of looking after the woman who virtually raised you." he growled. He liked Ukraine, as much as her sobbing irritated him she was a sweetheart who went out of her way to try to help people and loved freely. Seeing shit like that happen to her pissed him off royally.

"I don't live in the mountains Russia, and we stay off of ice, we didn't even know we were on a frozen river you asshole." he turned to glare at the larger man. "France would've trounced you if you weren't so fucking insane that you burned your entire city to the ground just so he couldn't have it."

"I did best job that I could be doing, Kaliningrad," he replied, eyes narrowed, shoulders stiff, and his hands were definitely clenched into fists now. He hadn't wanted to harm his sister, hadn't done it purposefully. But what he wanted didn't matter--a nation's leader got what they wanted, and that was that.

"You should have been preparing better. I was not about to be putting myself at disadvantage just to make you happy. I had way to beat you and I was using it. I won." He paused, smiled, and it wasn't exactly a sane smile. "I was doing well before Frantsiya came to my heart, but burning it helped. It was better for it to be burned than for it to be taken again."

"Yea, you seem to like destroying others as a self medication for the shit that happened to you. Newsflash Russia, you're just as fucked up as the rest of us you're just too weak to hold yourself together." he growled and shifted his stance.

"The ice was a petty example, I remember when we were actually friends before you were freaked out by how industrialized I was. I don't know what happened to you but you went fucking INSANE after that. I'd like to think you were better with a monarchy and as an empire."

That was it. Everyone had their breaking points when it came to their angers, and Ivan's wasn't exactly the hardest to reach--especially when the Prussian continued to poke at things he did not like poked at. Everyone also had their ways of taking out their pent up emotions. Some liked to write angry poetry. Ivan liked to hit and forcibly make whomever was creating the annoyance stop. And that was why Prussia suddenly had Ivan's fist speeding quite fast at his face.

Prussia had just enough time to throw himself to the side, feeling the Russian's hand just miss his face and clip his hair. He grinned to himself in victory, it wasn't hard to piss the Russian off but Prussia still took pride in being able to still antagonize the world.

Taking a few steps back Prussia gave him a cheeky grin and a laugh.

"Did I piss you off Russia? Kesesesese, seems like I hit a sore spot."

Ivan was glaring at the other, a scowl on his face, watching the other, and slowly stepping forward. It was obvious that he was frustrated with the Prussian, but then he had every right to be. Between the Prussian and the tower, the lack of vodka and everything else--no, he was not in a good mood. And Gilbert made a good punching bag, he had found. "You are an idiot, Kaliningrad," he snapped.

"Prussia, or are you too thick to remember a name that's one letter off from yours?" he growled, sidestepping Prussia and keeping just out of the larger man's reach. He'd done this kind of tango several times with Russia and often it didn't end well for either of them.

Not to mention Prussia only had one hand to work with unless he felt like further damaging the cracked bones in his wrist. Which, in this case, he was willing to do if the Russian brought out that pipe he seemed to carry everywhere with him.

"'Prussia' does not exist," Ivan snapped back and shook his head slowly, watching the smaller male, continuing to move forward, though he kept the pipe away for the moment, hidden inside his coat. He also kept the guns away, because really, he would not want to waist bullets on the Prussian, no matter how annoying he might have been at the moment. "Or are you too 'thick to remember' that you are not Prussia any longer?"

"It will exist as long as I do!" Prussia snarled, sidestepping away from Russia to keep a good distance between them. He did not want to get hit by that pipe.

"Are you mad because I know the truth about you Russia? About how fucking insane you are. And how much you hate yourself that you take it out on the rest of us or is it the fact that even though you annexed me I still continue to live and harass the fuck out of you."

"It's existence is dead, like you should be!"

Ivan followed the other, his eyes blazing, brows furrowed, angrier the more the other talked to him, and he kept the distance between them relatively small, though he was not stupid with his anger, just watching Gilbert, at least until the other started speaking again. And then he lashed out again, growling low in his throat.

"And I'm not! That's a big FUCK YOU to you annexing me, You can't kill me Ivan I'm going to haunt you like everything else." Prussia gave an almost crazed grin, red eyes flashing at the threat of Russia coming at him. Mostly he was just shitting around with the Russian, battle and fights were what he lived for even if he was no longer a nation and seeing Russia riled was just icing on his cake.

The punch was much more well aimed and the side of Ivan's hand clipped the Prussian's shoulder just before Gilbert made a mad scramble for the doorway. Being lighter and smaller than the Russian flight was a little easier at a moment's notice.

"And you are!" he snapped, because Prussia was dead. He might come back, and by Gilbert's continued existence it felt likely, as any nation that he could think of that had permanently died, had brought their representation with them, but for now Prussia was gone. At least Gilbert got what he wanted--a very riled up Russian.

It wasn't just the words that affected him either--it was a combination of them, his continued sobriety (really, he hadn't been sober for more than a day in years, decades even), and the fact that he was still stuck in this tower cut off from his people. If it was just the words, Ivan might not chase the Prussian, but as it was he was angry enough to follow after him, taking out his pipe for that added bit of reach.

He was a bit fast for someone his size, but Gilbert was generally faster, and did have quite a bit of practice on getting away from an angry Russia. Hell, he could make the book on it. "Coward," he snapped, scowling at the ground.

"I know when I'm at a disadvantage to a madman," He laughed and cursed when he caught the glimmer of the lead pipe. Instead of running he simply slid down the banister to stand at the bottom of the flight of stairs, grinning like a cheshire cat up at the angry nation.

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