In some way, Fane had to wonder if picking Russia of all places as the setting for this little party was all some sort of cruel cosmic joke, if even now karma and the universe were laughing at him. This was the last place he wanted to be. This was the last place he wanted his Viku to be, after everything that had happened to the sweet boy. Yet, Germany had seen fit to host celebrations here, and for all his loathing, he could see why. This was no doubt a display of his new power, a little show to say 'This is mine. This is all mine.'
It seemed most were already gathered together by the time Fane arrived, which he didn’t particularly care about. It just meant to him that if he were to be fashionably late, then all the more people to notice. And late he was, though, for once he could say it was not entirely his fault. Children were often so hard to get ready before events, he was coming to learn. They sometimes wriggled when you tried to dress them, or tried running about before their shoes were even on their feet, and in that regard Viku was like any other kid his age. Fane would have to learn how to better manage that, and count on his patience getting him through in the meantime. And beyond the task of getting his brother ready, he still had to look presentable as well. No matter what anyone might say, an unwell face and body covered in bruises was hardly presentable.
But, it was amazing what some powder could cover up. His bruises, pallid complexion, the darkness under his eyes, it was as if he'd never fought a war. And so long as a dip in a pool wasn't part of the planned festivities, no one would ever notice. That was how he liked it; despite everything, he loathed the idea of others seeing how weak he was right now. Besides, even if someone saw through his little cosmetic fixes, that was the last thing about his appearance they'd be commenting about. No no, they would all be seeing just how fashionable his lateness was.
He had taken care when choosing his clothes. He could already assume most others would be wearing their uniforms, or at the very least make it a suit and tie affair. Nothing that would stand out, nor make any kind of statement. So be it, he didn’t mind if he were to be an odd one out. He would make his statement with his white tunic and trousers, with every inch of embroidery he had painstakingly done himself so many years ago. Every colorful stitch on his tunic and vest was something he was proud of, and now that pride would be on display for the world. He had taken care to see that not a scuff was on his boots, that his belt was worn just so, that even his little hat matched perfectly. Traditional clothing was a treasure to him, and one that he felt perfectly conveyed his feelings about his new situation. No matter if he was put under the foot of a new empire - independence now merely a pipe dream - he was still resiliently, unapologetically Romanian.
Those feelings carried over to his little brother as well, or at least so it would seem. The Romanian had no qualms over dressing the little territory up in clothing just as brightly ostentatious as his own. Viku’s outfit was one once owned by Fane’s young king, just as many of his clothes were currently hand-me-downs from the royal family or Fane himself. It was the best he could work with for the time being, and he swore someday soon Viku would have clothing all his own, both casual and traditional. He just needed time and money to make that happen. Considering his current stance and his own well being, the money side of things seemed… easier said than done.
But for now, that didn’t matter. No, now was the time to pretend nothing affected him, ignore the constant ache in his body, and put on his best smile for those around him. That was just what he did as he entered the main hall, little brother on his hip. He smiled for all these bastards to see.
He screamed at the tiniest bits of inconveniences that angered him, the fact he didn't get his favorite breakfast, how he couldn't draw the picture of his imaginary friend correctly as the image he had in his head, how he couldn't win the argument with his brother about getting a pet polar bear. He screamed all night before, with the nightmare scenery of bloodied fields and destroyed crops flashing in his mind. He screamed all throughout the chase Fane put him through as he ran away from him, not wanting to put on any clothes once he was free of it all. Naked and running around free as the wind, the boy at one time even elevated his screams to a high-pitched shriek that, no doubt, might've temporarily damaged Fane's eardrums for a few minutes. The tot claimed it was because he wanted to play with the wooden blocks he brought along with him on the journey to the room to begin with, but it was quite obvious of the real reasons of him acting up.
They were in Russia. The last place Viku ever wanted to be in.
He practically begged his brother to bring him home through his constant whimpering and screams claiming of nonsense, but it was unmanageable. All through getting dressed up and prepared for this party that his brother told him about them both attending, he was complaining about anything and everything he could think of. He needed to go potty, his fingers hurt for whatever random reason (really, since when did poking an old stuffed animal become something that could hurt a finger that never even touched it to begin with, nobody will know), he was hungry, thirsty, tired, sick... Anything he could come up with, he was, and would claim to be. At first it seemed to work; his brother complied with kisses to his fingertips and constant trips back and forth to and fro the restroom, but those too didn't last as long as Viku wanted. Eventually the outfit was put on him, as did tiny traditional shoes that were, in a genius manner, had three tiny bells each in the respective colors of blue, yellow and red tied to them, and they were out the door.
And of course, as expected, the whole travel to the Kremlin Senate building, too, was no easy task. The child wanted Fane to take every stop possible, he even pretended to hold interest in the random stores they passed by that sold toys for children to play with during bath times, something Viku even hated having to do in the first place. His protests were useless, and by the time the brothers arrived to the room, Viku was on Fane's hip, a sniffling whimpering mess that was still wiping his eyes. He was trembling; even the bells on his shoes were making faint jingling noises and he wasn't even walking on his own. His cheeks pink, he tried to tug against Fane's vest and point back in the direction they came from in silent protest, especially once he looked at the crowd and, rather easily, spotted the tall Russian nation.
It was a strangely sweet relief when Snežana caught sight of someone she certainly wanted to speak to.
From a distance, at least, Fane and the baby he was carrying looked like they were okay. Snežana knew better than to assume that this meant there was nothing to be worried about for them; considering how much she herself was covering up, it was obvious that it could be done. Still, the Romanian seemed to be keeping it together, and if the little one looked to be in distress, it could have been the everyday kind that small children experienced and could easily let blow over. They were well-dressed, at least, and both looked to be as healthy as could be expected. Her own clothes were somewhat less elaborate despite the venue, consisting only of a long black dress with a short white jacket and a blue scarf, all lacking the kinds of ornamentation she would have liked, mostly because far too many of her possessions had already been, ahem, reposessed.
Snežana felt something, at that sight. She was still strangely detached from the setting, but even if she was a ghost, she still cared about her friend. Leaving her place at the wall, she crossed the room to greet Fane and Viku.
Tugging a little at the scarf around her neck to make sure that it hadn't slipped out of place--it was warm all around her throat, which was nice and all in an old stone building like this that couldn't possibly be made proof against even ordinary cold, much less the kind of weather that Russia always seemed to be having, but Snežana's reasons for wearing it didn't really have anything to do with either the weather or fashion--she approached the Romanian while he was still fairly near to the door. "Zdravo, Fane," she greeted him with the closest thing to a real smile she had managed in weeks. "I haven't seen you in some time; how have you been? And a greeting to you as well, little one," she added, turning that nearly-genuine smile on the child. She wasn't completely sure she remembered the boy's names correctly (and it didn't help that he seemed to have at least three different nation names), but that was easy enough to circumvent gracefully for now.
“Ah, Viku..” He wasn’t deaf to his brother’s sniffs and whimpers, even if the boy’s previous shrieks throughout the day had threatened to injure his ears. He knew to expect resistance from Viku, and for all the annoyance and frustration it brought, he couldn’t begrudge him his tantrums. This was a place of nightmares to him - moreso than it was to Fane - so he’d have to be stupid to ever think Viku would be willing to come here without protest. The best he could do was keep up his smile for the younger one’s sake. “It will all be alright, puiule. Big Brother is right here with you, da? I will keep you safe from anything, anyone.”
This was what elder brothers were supposed to do, wasn’t it? Smile and promise safety, give the younger one security? He couldn’t say what was the right thing to do, he was still so new to this business of being the older sibling. All he had was memories from decades and centuries before, of how his sister handled being the one in charge, of the comfort she could give with just a single word or hug. How did she ever do it? How could he replicate it? If she were here, she’d know what to do, she’d be able to say ‘Oh, Ştefan, just hand him to me. Both of you, come here.’ Wouldn’t that have been nice? It would have been easier, but instead he was stuck standing there with the little boy that had their sister’s countenance, a cheerful expression hiding a million uncertainties. Was he doing this wrong? How was he to raise a child and not fail him at every step? What would he do when he did fail him again, or--
"Zdravo, Fane."
That familiar voice silenced his mind, drawing his eyes from Viku to one of the most welcome sights he’d had in some time. “Snežana?” Oh, Fane was always happy to be reunited with the Serb. He had always had her friendship since childhood, and it was one of the few things the years had never been able to steal away from him. As she approached him, she seemed well enough, all things considered. But his eyes caught how she adjusted her scarf, and his mind made note of just how simple her clothing was. Oh yes, he could say she was like him, she was always hiding truths beneath the surface. His smile softened into something genuine. “Ah, alo draga mea, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
"I haven't seen you in some time; how have you been? And a greeting to you as well, little one."
How to answer that? This was not the place for thoughtless honesty, not when others could hear and base judgements about him from his words. “It has been far too long, Snežie. I have been well, adjusting to the changes in the world as everyone else is doing. I imagine you’ve been about the same, da?” He adjusted his hold on his brother. Perhaps a friendly face would do well to sooth Viku? “Have you ever been properly introduced to my little Viku, Snežie? This is Bessarabia, Viktor Albescu. Viku, say alo to Miss Snežana Knežević, she is Big Brother’s closest friend.”
"Nu... Nu, home. Home, bwuder." The protests and begs began pouring out from the child's mouth once more when his brother attempted to comfort him with words. The smile the Romanian offered was far from comforting in the child's eyes at the moment, if anything it only frightened him further. He tugged harder at Fane's vest and pointed back out for the path they came from, out the door, shaking his head. "Bwuder nu. Nein. Bwuder, out... Home."
The pleas continued on until he heard a new voice, and as if something had suddenly hit him, he fell completely silent once more. The boy's free hand was brought to his mouth to suckle nervously on two of his chubby fingers, while the other hand tightened its grasp on his brother's vest. His knuckles were turning white on said hand, but at the moment nothing was more important to him than to be glued to Fane. He buried his face against Fane's shoulder and tried to make himself appear as small as possible, hidden, if he could. If he couldn't see the other person, they didn't exist. They couldn't possibly exist. He couldn't see himself, so the same should go for the newcomer. Child logic at it's finest.
He still listened to the nothing conversation take place however, his brother seemingly more relaxed by the tone of his voice alone. Viku couldn't bring himself to look to the female nation until he was given the greetings, to which he couldn't help but to peek out towards her, with his fearful eyes.
"..."
He said nothing in response when she spoke to him. If there was anything close to a response, it would be how his eyes darted back for the group already present inside the room, and back to the new person, and then to Fane, and back to her once more. She seemed to have remembered him somewhat, but the boy himself had no idea who she was. Or, maybe he did, but it was so distant in memory that a panicked mindset was not letting him think clearly. He tried to go back to hiding his own vision from the other, but that was when his brother introduced him to her.
And when he was told to greet her, he finally tugged the hardest he had so far at his vest, pushing his face hard against Fane's shoulder.
"Nu...!! Nu alo!! Nu!!! I no wike her!! I nu say alo!! I... I go home.. I go home~!!!" And in a split second, he went from arguing to crying against the shoulder, the hand that once provided fingers for him to suckle on now also being used to tug hard at the outfit Fane dressed himself in. "Home~!!! I go home~!! I good boy, I go home wif bwuder~!!"
In spite of the circumstances, Snežana genuinely felt better just seeing Fane. The Romanian had always been a friend of hers, and judging by the look on his face, he seemed to be every bit as happy to see her as she was to see him. That was a relief, in a way. It was good to see that, for all that had been taken away from her, she hadn't lost Fane's friendship.
She suspected that the Romanian wasn't exactly at his best, but at least he seemed to have no problem standing upright or holding the child in his arms. That was something, considering that they had just come out of a war. If she could see faint hints that he was tired or hurting, they were well-disguised, completely invisible from a distance and surely undetectable to anyone who didn't both know him well enough to know what to look for and know to look for such things at all.
The child, on the other hand, was an open book, clearly frightened and frustrated. It wasn't the little boy's fault, of course; at that age, the kind of self-control their kind normally had to exhibit was really much too much to ask of anyone. Snežana counted herself lucky that no one had expected such things of her until she was old enough to conceal her feelings at need. At the rate things were going, this little one might not have such good fortune, a thought which made her sad. She loved children, and hated it when they were forced to grow up too fast.
At her greeting, a large brown eye peeked out for a second, just long enough to look her over briefly, before disappearing again. Snežana smiled as gently and genuinely as she could, hoping to reassure the chubby-faced toddler that she meant him no harm at all. Only good: she wanted to do him only good.
Her friend answered her greeting a little evasively, but that was hardly a surprise. She had guessed that he might not really be quite as well as he made it look, but his smooth words gave little indication of that. "Da, I have indeed fared similarly," she agreed pleasantly. To say that they had been well was probably not much further from the truth for her than it was for him.
Yes, Snežana had been aware that Fane was raising a child now, but she wasn't quite sure whether or not she had seen the baby in person before. Bessarabia, or Viktor: so that was his name. She smiled and opened her mouth to say that she didn't remember whether they had been properly introduced, but she was pleased to meet the little boy, but before she could get a word out, Viku was screaming.
Snežana laughed softly. "Oh, he's at that age," she observed. Leaning in conspiratorially towards Fane, she half-whispered, "When I was raising my eldest, I was so afraid that this phase meant I'd done something wrong. It doesn't. He'll be okay." She ignored the needle-sharp memories that stabbed at her heart over having mentioned that, didn't even let it show on her face how much it hurt. Her own babies had been taken away from her, and she missed them so much, but she was almost used to that pain now. Sort of. Judging by how she still felt about her mother, it would probably always hurt, or at least it would unless and until they could be reunited...
Standing among the halls of the Kremlin Senate it was impossible to imagine that he would have been held in Russia had the war given a different outcome. During war one does not often imagine being prisoner to the victors but it seemed it was a future that no long waited for him, nothing more than a nightmare kept in dreams. There stood no threat that he would be stripped of title or even separated from his brother’s side no matter what the future held for them. What long ago was a simple dream of uniting the German States ended with Europe in their hands and the world meeting in Russia on terms set by Prussia’s youngest brother. Laughable as it was it seemed that each piece of the puzzle fell into place gifting them the world they sought after.
Breaking from the meeting seemed necessary as speaking of terms of what divides a land and who had right to this island gave him more of a headache than he cared to admit. Being at peace for the moment it was unsettling to thing a disagreement could have guns raised once more with the threat of a third war that would engulf all that were seated for a discussion. No more could such be deemed a simple discussion, nothing that included the empires of the world would remain a simple matter anymore. Growing ever clearer it seemed Japan would be the thorn in his side wishing to debate with America for the right to Hawaii as well as the need to make clear what would be half of Russia. What was to expect? Deciding what was half of a nation was a careful matter that risked upsetting either party. Prussia knew well that sharing Russia would gift tension but it was not land he would advise giving up just to please Japan.
Moving across the floor there didn’t seem anyone Prussia would avoid the eyes of or anyone he would not give a nod of greeting to as he passed. The world was in Germany’s hands and he would refuse to show any sign of fear for those that remained in power or members of the party that might not be pleased by their current position. The smile and laugh given to those passing it was as if Prussia was not aware the feelings of those around him; perhaps it were simply a desire to chase away the depression causing the room to be heavy. No, Prussia would not be weighed down as he glided about trying to lift the weight with his lightness. Even with the lightness of Prussia’s movements he was not leaving himself open to the guests around them, keeping a gun holstered to his hip in plain sight as if it were a promise that he would single handed take down any that felt the need to disturb the party that was being held in their favor, his brother’s favor.
Scanning the room it didn’t take long for him to notice the odd man out, white was a color that seemed to stand out far too well with all the dark colored uniforms. It was a blur of military garb and yet there stood Ştefan, Romania, dressed in traditional white garb decorated in flowers embroidered on his clothing. With a smile he unbuttoned his jacket and crossed the room toward the offending outfit. Not uttering a word he removed Moldova from the arms of his brother placing him on his feet before taking Romania’s wrist. Appearing to be gentle he forced each of the nation’s arms into the black blazer before circling to button the garment securely. Within moment only a white collar was visible as Romania appeared to be engulfed. “You appeared to be cold, Mäuschen.”
Speaking sweetly Prussia then turned and lifted Moldova into his arms making sure his voice carried as he spoke, calling attention to those near him. “Vhere is your uniform?” Instead of speaking to Romania he kept his attention of the young nation held to his hip keeping the smile present on his face. “Vas there something vrong vith those I sent? I desired for us all to match, vhat a vaste.”
Fane nearly wanted to give a half-hearted laugh when his dear friend spoke. Yes, Snežana was someone who he regarded as knowledgeable, and he often trust her insight and opinions; but, he felt this was a case where there was no simple explanations, and that this was hardly a phase typical to most children. Viku was young, but he had lived through more than most children ought to. It was enough to affect his view of the world, and to give him fears and worries that a child shouldn’t have to live with. It reminded Fane of his own childhood, in a way. The experiences the brothers had were not the same, of course, but similar enough to make the elder worry for what the future could do to harm his sweet brother next. He never wanted to see him hurt again. He never wanted him to follow in his footsteps.
“Snežie,” He began, but the thought couldn’t be finished before their little conversation was interrupted. Some might think he should have seen the Prussian approach them, but he could genuinely say seeing his friend again had been a more than ample distraction from his surroundings. For that reason, he never truly took note of Gilbert until Viku was pulled out of his arms. In that moment, his first instinct had been yell and berate anyone that was stupid enough to try to take Viku from him, but this was Gilbert, and Fane could say nothing against him. He wouldn’t dream of doing so, these days.
Any anger in his expression was quickly dashed, replaced by widened eyes that betrayed more unease than he would dare admit to. And when his wrist was grabbed, the rest of his face never let on that the action actually did hurt. It seemed like everything hurt these days, as did it for more weeks than he kept a count of. As each arm was forced into the damned blazer Gilbert decided he should now wear, he bit his lip to keep what he could of his expression neutral. He refused to be seen in pain, this would not change that. Though, when he looked up at the other man while he buttoned the jacket, that neutrality threatened to soften into something far more agreeable. Almost loving, even. It was only after his shirt and vest were covered that Gilbert spoke, giving his claim for why he did so. He thought the Romanian looked cold? Fane some self control to keep from calling bullshit on this excuse. So then, how to respond? His mind presented several tempting options, and he didn’t know which he preferred.
He wanted to roll his eyes, to give some sarcastic retort as he removed that annoying jacket.
He wanted to apologize, and see a real smile directed his way.
He wanted to rip his brother away from him and scold him for ever taking the child out of his arms.
He wanted to be kissed by him.
Fane crossed his arms (though he now could barely see his fingers beyond the dark sleeves). It was the kind of action that might have made him seem haughty when he usually did it, but now his body language read as more… defensive. But he returned Gilbert’s smile. “How thoughtful of you to look out for me, Stea Mea. Now I won’t have to worry about any chill in the air.”
The genial tone of his answer was far from true to his feelings, but it seemed acceptable to Gilbert, who’s attention now turned to Viku. In that moment, Fane’s eyes looked to Snežana’s, growing anxiety finally spilling into his countenance.
Last Edit: Mar 22, 2017 19:58:11 GMT -7 by Romania
Having been busy screaming against his brother and begging to be taken out of the country they currently were in, Viku too failed to spot the albino that he had come to learn to trust in the short time he had been around until he felt lifted out of the security of his brother's grasp. A loud screech was heard throughout the room in the boy's momentary panic at the loss of the comforting grasp that cradled him only a millisecond ago before they were replaced with a soft whimper once he realized he was not grabbed by the Russian he feared the most. Standing still on the floor he was placed down on, the toddler nation watched as Gilbert moved to cover his brother with his uniform over the outfit his brother oh so joyously picked out from early morning and sniffled softly, using the long sleeve to his advantage to wipe at his face, unable to help himself to stop shaking in fear of being out of Fane's protective grasp for that split moment he was made to stand. Nervously the boy moved back closer to the Romanian to try and get a hold of Fane's hand, his shirt, his pants, whatever he could grab at to keep himself close to the other, when instead he was lifted off the floor by Gilbert, breaking him out of his initial fixation. Unlike the times he would've shown if lifted by a stranger otherwise, however, the Romanian territory kept quiet as he was smiled to by the man who picked him up and was asked a question.
"Vhere is your uniform?”
"..."
“Vas there something vrong vith those I sent? I desired for us all to match, vhat a vaste.”
What uniform? He didn't know he was given an outfit to wear, it was out of his knowledge. Fane was the one who kept track of all the deliveries and of course of the boy's basic living needs, which also included, in this life stage, choosing what he was to wear in important public meetings or parties as such in the one they were currently in. Viku gave a small sniffle in response as he wiped at his wet cheeks again, his trembles finally becoming to cease as he felt more secure being held at Gilbert's hip. Gilbert will keep him safe, will keep Ivan away, will keep the monsters and mean countries from hurting him, or Fane too, for that matter. The boy held such trust in the albino and it had yet to be broken, luckily.
"I... Dunno... I'm sorry..." He said honestly, just choosing to take advantage of his current situation instead. The tot pressed his face against Gilbert, curling up slightly in the cradling hold. "I just wanna go home... I no wike here, Gil-Gil..."
Snežana was so intent on paying attention to her friend, listening for whatever thought Fane might have intended to follow that with, whatever concern it was that he might want to share with her, that it caught her completely by surprise when someone else, someone entirely new, abruptly intruded on their conversation.
She didn't even recognize the German albino, at first. Who was this man, and why was he manhandling Fane and Viku? Snežana opened her mouth, wanting to protest, but Fane's compliant reaction suggested to her that perhaps she should stay quiet for now. And then the man spoke (with that accent that grated on Snežana's ears; he sounded not merely foreign, but outright wrong somehow), calling Fane a strange nickname that sounded to Snežana like "mojšen."
At some point, she realized that the man was Gilbert, one of the German brothers. Snežana didn't dare cross him openly, not here and now, not with so many witnesses and so great a potential risk of retaliation against both herself and Fane. Not that it mattered much: the newcomer seemed to be ignoring her so completely that she might as well have ceased to exist as a creature of flesh and blood at all. Once more she felt like a ghost, observing the scene as it unfolded but so powerless to affect its course and outcome that it did not even matter that she was technically still present.
That was the moment when Snežana discovered that she did have some feelings left about her situation after all, and she hated it with all her heart.
And then, when Gilbert was distracted with Viku, Fane's eyes locked with hers, and Snežana longed to rescue him. She could see that he was worried -- that he was afraid -- and although she didn't know all the details about what had happened to him, she wanted nothing more than to save him from whatever was making him look like that.
She loved him. She could love anyone who could get close to her, but Fane was one of the best friends she'd ever had, so she loved him more than most. She wanted him to be happy and safe, and she could see that, despite the playful tone he'd taken when speaking to Gilbert, he was neither right now. Gilbert clearly frightened Fane, and seemed to be trying to make the Romanian feel ashamed for wearing his own beautiful clothing that reflected and celebrated his own beautiful culture.
Snežana tugged semi-consciously at the scarf around her neck, desperately wishing she could do something to help her friend. If she had thought she could get away with it, she would have grabbed Fane and Viku and run off with them right then and there. As it was, though, she only spent a long moment meeting her friend's eyes, trying to share whatever comfort with him she could, before addressing the newcomer in the most neutral tone she could manage.
"Hello, sir. It's... good to see you have arrived."
