towerofanimus

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ivan stared at the other, eyes wild when the Prussian pulled the gun at him, but he wasn't afraid. After the third or fourth time being shot in the head it kind of lost it's fear value, or maybe Ivan was just crazier than ever. "Is taking little bit more than that to be killing me, Kaliningrad," he replied pulling out his own gun, because, really, if he was going to be shot, he was not going to allow himself to be the only one with a hole through his skin. He was smiling though, broader, as if they were merely playing a game. "But if you are really wanting to be wasting bullets on me rather than on the tower, then do, da?"

"I didn't say I wanted to kill you, Russia. Making assumptions already." Prussia cocked the gun, he had more than enough spare ammunition in his trunk. He could afford to waste a bullet or two on the nation across from him. He would've preferred not to but this came down to one of them walking away unscathed and Prussia was damned if he was going to let that be Ivan.

"We can kill each other or walk away from this."

"The look in your eye is saying you are wanting nothing more," he replied, stared at the other, a smile still on his lips. He certainly didn't want to waste any ammunition, would if necessary, but even with the amount extra he had, it was always good to save, especially when you were in a tower with no extra ammunition available.

"That is being entirely up to you, Kaliningrad," he replied, sweetly, his own gun held steady, moving forward slightly. He held no fear for being shot, it was more or less an inconvenience to him. Much like the inconvenience that happened when one drank too much, and had trouble the next day. Perhaps it was a little more troublesome to be shot in the head, but still, it healed. Nations always healed, unless something was done to their land. And as long as it healed, and you were used to pain, why would you fear it?

"Hard not with the shit you put me through Ivan. I'd love to put a bullet clean between your eyes." he growled and took a step away from the Russian, gun still trained on him. Gilbert didn't really want to be shot but he also knew that he'd pushed Ivan to the point that he doubted he could get away without some for of maiming.

"Take another step and I will fucking shoot you, bastard."

Ivan raised his brows, eyes flashing a little, when the things he had done were brought up again. He was sorely tempted to fire right then, but he held his hand steady instead, eyes on Prussia. He had done nothing that the Germans would not have, after all. The Germans had done worse, and they had deserved what they had gotten from him.

"And I you," was all he said, his sickeningly sweet smile coming back.

"Is that being so, little Kaliningrad?" His eyes were on the gun though, watching and making sure the other's hand didn't so much as twitch, because if he was going to deal with the aches and pains of being shot, Prussia was going to as well.

Prussia took another step back, arm level, gaze unwavering. Heading back he moved toward one of the other tanks and rounded the side of it, the azure water obscuring the Russian and giving Gilbert a chance to run for it.

Diving behind one of the tank walls he turned and headed for the door, bracing himself before holding up his weapon, looking for where the Russian was.

Ivan's eyes were on the Prussian as the other moved, and he tracked Gilbert carefully, not wanting to be shot out of carelessness, lips held in a thin line, brows furrowed. When the other dove behind a tank, Ivan's eyes widened slightly, though he didn't bother firing a shot--there was too much water in between them, even if he had a clear shot. But he held his gun up, and continued to follow the Prussian, not quite willing to give that up, though he was careful staying on one side of the water, but keeping his eye on the other's form. "Why are you running away? That is cowardly, and not being very fun~" he called out, still able to taunt him, even if he couldn't shoot him at the moment, or see him all that well.

"Strategically retreating, it's a defence tactic." Prussia growled, making sure to stay behind the sheets of water. Sadly, the only way to reach the door to the hallway was completely in the open and with no armour or shielding on his person it was as good as running for death.

"Only if you are planning to lead me into a false sense of security and ambush me later," he replied, smiled, because he had done that before, remembered the time where he had run from France only to stand to burn his own heart so that the man could not have it. "But I do not think you have the power to do that."

And Ivan was content to play the cat and mouse game, waiting for Prussia's move, a small smile on his lips, watching, guard still up, not willing to stop his weariness just because he appeared to have the advantage.

"Hah, done it before and I can do it again Ruskie." The comment bounced off of the water in the tanks making it sound odd even to Prussia's ears. "In fact I remember the coward of Europe did the same to you not too long ago. How was it being invaded by France?" Prussia grinned and noticed the faint outline of the taller man through the water. Taking his chance he jumper out and took two shots. One aimed at the Russian's head, the other his chest before he dove behind the safety of one of the tanks and moved quickly so the other would have an issue getting a solid shot.

"He was a lot stronger back then, Kaliningrad. He even had you at his beck and call to help, da? It was not just the French who invaded my land," he snorted. "But he took you, and not me."

Of course the other's movement was caught by Ivan and with that he was able to move; make neither shot hit their mark. Though he didn't escape entirely unscathed. While the bullet to the head missed completely, hit the wall of water behind him, the bullet to his chest grazed his shoulder, slicing through the skin. He hissed slightly, though he fired a shot towards Prussia, eyes narrowed.

"Fuck." Prussia dove again, the bullet glancing the back of his shirt as he kept moving. He did not want to be caught at a standstill with Russia against him.

"He was, but even then, he only beat me once. At least I didn't burn down my major city just so he couldn't have it." Prussia grinned and hunkered down around one of the bases of the tanks and peeked out to see where the Russian was.

"But did Frantsiya beat me? Nyet. Sometimes sacrifices are necessary, Kaliningrad. My sacrifice allowed me freedom. It meant he did not win," he replied back and eyed the tank the Prussian was hiding behind, firing a shot as soon as the other peeked out, before moving behind his own tank, eyes narrowed, licking his lips. "You were conquered. I was not. I think a city was worth the cost."

Weary

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject