literature

Russia Memoirs Part 2

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Ivan Braginski (Russia) Memoirs.


Chapter One:
Conference


Time: November 20, 1914
Place: Conference of Allied Powers



Ivan Braginski wasn't sure if he should knock or not. The wooden door was so tightly shut and he could already hear the heated debating within. Surely France and England were fighting again and Italy would most likely be lounging in the back of the room, staring out of the window. Well, there's nothing to lose, Ivan sighed and putting on his best mask- the one that expressed a heavy childishness and ignorance- he entered the room.

The silence was immediate; every head swiveled to stare at him. The atmosphere was suddenly wary and full of tension. Ivan felt himself grow slightly angry at their usual responses to his presence, but forced his visage and tone to remain neutral. "I'm sorry for the lateness!" Ivan said in a cheerful, sweet voice, "I must have forgotten to set my alarm this morning, da." He cast them a small smile, one that was intended to pacify them, but the looks of terror continued.

"H-hello Russia," Feliciano Vargas- Italy -blurted out and forced a smile back.

"We were wondering when you'd get here," England's Arthur Kirkland said airily, but the look of slight annoyance on Ivan's face caused him to balk.

"Well, well, since we're all present now," Francis Bonnefoy of France hastily intervened, "let us discuss the Central Powers' situation at this moment." He launched into a full account of the latest happenings in the last few months.

"They are currently piling troops onto the main front of Paris. The numbers of casualty in my country has become increasingly larger… Germany is learning as he continues to push his way into our united bases…"

"The Central Powers have begun to improvise," Arthur interrupted grimly. "They're using zeppelins to bomb London and reduce the number of my soldiers there and near the Isles."

"We can't keep going like this!" Feliciano exclaimed tearfully. "They'll have us on our knees in no time! What can we do?"

"Stop panicking, for one thing," Arthur growled. "We don't need bloody cowards and sniveling idiots on our side."

"Now, England," Francis sighed, "there's no need to chastise him in such ways…"

"I wasn't-!"

Ivan slowly began to tune out their conversation- an argument, really -and turned his attention to the outside window instead. They were in Manchester, England's territory, in a stuffy room on a stuffy November evening. Outside, the sun was already down and the sky a murky gray-red. He wondered what Italy saw when he gazed out the window every start of their meetings. Because what he saw made him strangely rueful and achingly sad at the same time. No snow. It probably didn't snow much in England, and he had visited Manchester a few times before; but still, Ivan couldn't get used to it. All his life, he had been surrounded by the soft ice that gently fell from the sky. Now this completely alien and bare landscape… unsettled him.

"… What do you think, Russia?"

Ivan blinked, his thoughts retuning to the present, and glanced over at the three men across from him. Their eyes were nervous, their stance jittery, and their smiles were completely fake. Waiting for his input.

"Da?" Ivan asked, remembering to beam back.

"What do you think about sending some of your soldiers to assist England?" Francis asked politely. "They seem to be aiming for his land more than ours at this time. It would greatly help us."

"Please," Feliciano added. The smile was stretching widely over his features. "I'm sure this little favor would shift the tides over to our side."

"We would be indebt to you," Arthur chimed in.   

All three hastened to keep their eyes and manner friendly.

They don't trust me, Ivan thought as he stared into their sweating faces.  It's like I'm a wild beast, They act as though I'm not even on their side; as though, if they didn't ask nicely, I'd leave their alliance and not aide them.

идиоты. Idiots.

He couldn't help but narrow his eyes in contempt and slight hurt. They flinched pitifully, and for some reason, that stirred his anger even more. Ivan felt like saying no and he imagined the monster in him running loose and ripping their heads off, flinging it through the window and into the stone courtyard outside. He was even on the verge of rising from his seat and lumbering towards them.  

But then he caught himself mid-way. The terrible revelation of his intent pricked his conscience and a wave of guilt and shame washed over him. Ivan suddenly felt drained as he reassured them, "Da, of course!" He titled his head to the side cheerfully, brightly. "Use all the soldiers you need, wherever you need them. Don't be afraid to ask for anything… Russia is on your side~"

Relief flashed across their face and the trio settled back down in their seats again. Ivan could imagine the words running through their heads at that moment- Phew. We managed to survive that one.

Maybe I am a beast, he thought as he continued to nod and smile whenever one of the three Allies turned his way. Maybe it's good that they don't trust me; sometimes I barely trust my own self-control.

--

The conference had finally come to an end, and the Allies were satisfied with the work they got done. All except for Ivan, of course. He hated the idiotic meetings England hosted, hated knowing that he was despised even though he was the one who always had to send his soldiers into the line of fire. The one who sacrificed the most to end the war.

Ivan was more than glad when the conference was dismissed and rushed to escape the confines of the room; he could even hear the sighs of relief as he exited and knew that the other Allies were just as happy to see him leave. I really want to go home, Ivan tiredly. I wish to go home and lay in the snow. To dream of… flowers bathed in yellow light.

He stepped out of the building and into the dim glow of the evening sun. It would take about eight hours to get out of Manchester and another day or so to return to his home in Russia. Ivan already dreaded the trip back. Sighing, he squinted his eyes against the glare of dusk and started down the street. Of course he didn't expect anyone to offer to take him home, even though they knew he didn't have an automobile to get to the airport with. Never expect anything from those европейцев, Ivan thought. They only use you when they need you… and then it's over from there.

But the idiotic yet unavoidable thought entered his head. Я хотел бы, чтобы они заботились... Sudden despair washed over him; the numbing sensation of coldness enveloped his entire soul, until he froze on the very spot. Such intense, terrifying pain, the beast clawing through his inside, reaching to take over. I wish they would care! He kept imagining their stupid faces, their eyes always so widely insulting, sneering at him; trying their hardest to be nice and friendly but actually, obviously, loathing him with every breath they breathed. Ivan couldn't understand… couldn't understand why it bothered him so much. Why it should hurt him even worse than the monster ravaging his mind.

"Почему?" Ivan whispered in Russian, clenching his fists and staring wide-eyed at the ground. "Почему, Почему, Почему??" Confused tears welled up in his eyes, and it made him even angrier. No matter what I do, I can't seem to control my emotions anymore. "What can be done, with a person like me?"

There was a brief silence, and then it was broken by a scuffling of feet.



Ivan flinched, whirling around to the source of noise. His pale eyes widened in shock. A young man was leaning back against the brick wall of the building, surveying him with cool, vermillion eyes. The man's gaze held no fear at the sight of him, held nothing but a blank, cold expression. A sudden and strange vehemence filled Ivan's chest and his mouth lifted in a snarl. Who was this person to stand there and secretly watch him?

Who is he to witness my sorrow?

Slowly, carefully adjusting his voice into its usual happy tenor, Ivan said with a smile, "Privet! May I ask who are you, da?"  

It took a few seconds for the man to answer, and when he did, there was a carefully guarded edge in his voice. "I am Artemis," he answered in a slow drawl. "Artemis Lurfurr. But you may call me whatever it is that you wish." The man smiled crookedly and his silver-blonde hair flashed over his eyes.

The Russian's own eyes narrowed automatically. This person wasn't going to give out his nation any time soon. Ivan cast a cursory glance over at Artemis's uniform and found nothing to draw from it. But then, as he looked a bit closer, he could make out a cross-like necklace tucked in the man's shirt. Now this was slightly familiar…  

As though reading Ivan's mind, Artemis hastily shuffled out of the Russian's view, and lowered his eyes to the ground. When he spoke again, the tone was neutrally cold. "So," Artemis said softly, "I'm really curious to know who you are."

Ivan almost laughed aloud. He thought everyone knew who he was- mighty Russia, the giant menace, the crazy maniac who would tear you to shreds if you made him angry… The monster.

"I am Ivan Braginski," he replied, still all-smiles. And at the last minute, with only slight hesitation, added, "Of Russia."

The words had the right impact. Ivan watched as Artemis's eyes widened in immense surprise. Ah there. He knows to be afraid now… he finally sees-

There was silence, and then Artemis gave a curt nod. "I see," the man murmured, indifferent. "You're not what I had imagined. Not at all."

Ivan was shocked once again. Never before had a person said anything like that to him. Vaguely, the thought popped up in his head, This person is showing no sign of fear… Why is that so? Who is he?

But before Ivan could answer him, there was a loud shout from the Conference building. "I swear I saw that rascal spy somewhere here! I know he's here!" Arthur's blonde head emerged from the door of the building, rage reddening his cheeks as he glanced left and right down the street.

"Damn," Artemis cursed. He stepped back from the open, and with a quick, intense stare at Russia, he mouthed, "Do not say a word of me." And then he was gone, into the shadows of a dark corner, almost as abruptly as he'd appeared. For a second, Ivan just stood there and blinked at the empty spot.

…What?

But then, at that moment, Arthur's gaze landed on the Russian. His face paled at once, but then they suddenly became thoughtful. "Why, Russia!" the English man called cheerfully as he approached Ivan. "I have something to ask of you."

Still bemused by the quick turn of events, Ivan could only murmur, "Da?"

Arthur paused, looking unsure of what he was about to say. Then, in a rush, he whispered, "I believe we have ourselves a spy from the Central Powers. His name is Prussia. France knows him from a few years ago and Austria has had many conflicts with this man… We think he is secretly in league with Germany and they've sent him here to watch over our meetings."

A spy?

"Is the Central Powers so terrified of us that they would resort to this method, da?"

Arthur half-nodded and shrugged, so intent on the spy that he almost forgot his fear of Ivan. "I'm afraid so. I was wondering if you had seen any signs of this man. We need to catch him and apprehend him as soon as possible."

"Hmm." Ivan raised his head to the sky, thinking. "Prussia, da?" In truth, he'd never really taken note of that country, didn't even know the name of the man or his origin.

"Prussia's actual name is Gilbert Beilschmidt," Arthur added, reading Ivan's mind. "He is fairly medium height, with light hair and piercing eyes."

Well that helped. There had to be hundreds of men with medium height, light hair, and piercing eyes. "What is the fashion of his uniform?" Ivan prodded.

Arthur sighed helplessly. "Well, that's the problem. He changes them so very often that no one can keep track anymore."

"Then I can not help you, идиот." Ivan tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but it was hard to conceal. What did England expect, with all the vague hints about this spy? "I have not seen anyone like that around."

Arthur vaguely wondered what Ivan just called him, but found it best not to question. The Russian looked like he was spacing out already, anyways...

The image of Artemis flashed through Ivan's head. "Do not say a word of me." Now here was a suspicious person. It was oddly tempting to "say a word" about Artemis to Arthur, but then Ivan saw the look of deep loathing cast his way, and immediately dismissed the thought.

"I think I will start for home now, da~" the Russian abruptly stated, eyes bright. "The flight will be quite awhile and I am in a rush to return to my country."    

It wasn't true, of course. He could already imagine the horrors he would experience once back in Russia, the deadly nightmares and biting cold of winter and snow. But it was better than sticking around here in Arthur's territory, with his hatred boiling over the rim.  

"Oh, I see," Arthur said a bit wearily. "Well then Russia, I guess I'll see you at our next meeting. Don't forget to deploy your troops to my base… Though of course you would never forget that… Hahaha…." Arthur's laughter was weak and fell flat as he hurriedly made his way back to the tall building.

"Я не забуду..." Ivan sighed when the door to the entrance slammed shut. He looked up at the gray sky once and buried his head against his warm scarf.

"How could I ever forget something so important?" His thoughts suddenly switched to Artemis. Eyes narrowing, the Russian added,  

Or someone so suspicious.    
Translations:

Da = Yes

Privet = Hello

идиот = Idiot ; идиоты = Idiots

европейцев = Europeans

Я хотел бы, чтобы они заботились... = I wish they would care...

Почему = Why

Я не забуду... = I won't forget...

--------------------------------

Translations are corrected*

Second part :D

Also~
At one point in the story, I was debating who to put in as the second main character. (I was this close *makes hand motions* to choosing Iceland n_n but changed at least minute) The edit-ions were hell Dx

Enjoy, whoever bothered to read my sucky fanfic :3
© 2010 - 2024 WatermelonLand
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faeryland's avatar
This really cool Thi! Very different!:)