If you are wondering about the wings, this was a branch off of a failed story where I had the characters have wings that were either white or black depending on their role in WWI. Prussia and Germany both had black, since they were axis, and Russia's were white until he'd been persuaded to help them. Got stuck there...Well Russia holds his grudge on the betrayal in the end and now it is WWII.
Gilbert looked over the horizon morosely; shell-blasted buildings being held up by their skeleton frames, refusing to fall under all circumstances, looking back with hollow windows. The stone beneath rumbled and groaned as he stared out onto the ghostly city; he scuffled his boot against ledge and listened to the scraping sound. A gust of wind pushed him back, seeming to stop him. It brought with it the sounds of missile volleys and charging tanks, before blowing downwind once more. A loud, earth-shattering 'crack' echoed throughout the masonry; once more, they had landed a direct hit on the Reichstag. It was funny though, no one of importance had stayed in the building. Everyone had been given orders to head to the bunkers last morning. Why the Russians wanted to destroy the building was anyone's call. Shooting was starting to get closer as levels of the building were cleared. Gilbert sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. It shouldn't be this hard; it took a split second decision. Then why was it so difficult to follow through? Shaking his head, he re-opened his eyes again. Behind, he could hear a flag whipping wildly in the wind; soon it would be lowered and replaced with red. Soon, he would live a life of ridicule; but, that's only if they caught him first. Gilbert leapt from the bridge.
Falling, Prussia was caught off guard when he thudded into something hard. This something wasn't the ground though. It was something with a gun smoke smell that lingered on their clothes, and it was a certain something that was quite strong. It was one of those something's that don't normally show up when one leaps from a building.
"Where do you think you are going, German?" Gilbert had to hold back a nervous chuckle.
"Well from the looks of things, Hell."
"That would be correct, comrade." An eerie chill crept up into his mind in contrast to the cheers and shouts from behind. He pushed away from his captor to get a look at the crippled government building. Red Army soldiers had swarmed all over the rooftop, shooting their rifles into the air as they watched their flag ascend. "It sure is a shame that you and your brother decided to betray our little pact," Gilbert whipped his head around, getting a better look at the Russian. Indeed, it was Ivan, the representative of the Soviet Union. "And even more of a shame that you would try and kill yourself." Ivan quickly undid his jacket and pulled away at his shirt, sliding a hand over his shoulder blades. His fingers ran over soft downy feathers and Gilbert squirmed away. "No, you planned to trick me into thinking you had…" he muttered and slowly pulled a dull black wing away from his back. "You are as deceitful as ever, Gilbert." He smirked.
"Let me go…" Gilbert scowled. "I need to go and find my brother." Ivan chuckled and let him free.
"As you wish."
Gilbert allowed himself to drop a few meters before unfurling his wings. They caught the air and he carefully drifted to the ground with a 'thump'. Looking up, he could see Ivan's shadowy wings blotting out the hazy sun. He wouldn't have much time to find Ludwig before the "monster" got bored and decided to go looking for him. Watching his step as he crossed the rubble from buildings, he made his way to the bunker. It was a few meters from the Reichstag and he wasn't even sure that the Russian's would even let him by. They wouldn't shoot him right? Gilbert thought of all this as he tucked his wings close against his back again and put on his jacket. Finally, it looked like someone had noticed him. A group of soldiers that had gathered by the bunkers started to point him out and others had already run out to him with their side arms aimed at him. They were laughing at him, a mindless garble of Russian. He knew very little and only assumed that they knew little German; and, he rolled his eyes in dismay at the situation. One of them shoved him and sent him reeling into the soldier standing in front of him. Prussia turned on him and threw the soldier to the ground with a snarl, the boy cried out in shock and the crowd erupted into laughter. The tall one, the one that had been in-front, came to the defense of the boy and pulled his gun on him. Gilbert noticed, but the soldier already had the barrel of his gun pressed to his throat and ready. Soon the crowd had stopped laughing and instead chanted and cheered for the soldier to shoot him. The taller man started yelling at him in Russian, he was furious for some reason he couldn't think of. But, Gilbert hadn't noticed that the yelling was only getting louder because the crowd had started to stop chattering and was now deathly silent.
A path was starting to form through the throngs of soldiers, the chilling silence following the path as it cut through the center. The enraged soldier had a new look on his face, one of anxiety. The pressure against his neck never let up, but it was easy to tell he was frightened of whatever was coming since the barrel quivered against his skin. "Well, I have to say, you evaded death for a longer time than I guessed." The sound drifted on the wind so that it made it difficult to tell from where it came from. However, it was no doubt that the voice belonged to Ivan. Down the clear-cut path, the Soviet drifted towards him. Tall black wings peeked over top of his head and glinted whenever a ray of sun was able to force its way past the overcast sky. Prussia couldn't figure out why Ivan was choosing to keep his wings out though; most of the others would hide them and tuck them snugly against their back in fear of discrimination. Here though, it seemed that the crowd feared him for it.
"You planned on this happening?" he asked with a tremulous voice.
"Didn't you?" Ivan replied sarcastically and peered over the soldier's shoulder. He eyed him out of his vision with a look of dislike before putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to say something. "Thank you for stopping him; but, you should probably go now, yes?" he said in his own language and pushed him away from Prussia.
"I didn't think so…" he said and took a small step back. One of the soldiers nudged him forwards like a child pushing the blame to another to avoid being caught. Gilbert glared at him and took a step forward. "Why are they all so afraid of you?" he looked around at the transfixed crowd again. Ivan only smiled his insincere smile and flicked his wings.
"Why shouldn't they be?" he loomed over close to his face, tossing a black cord over his head. "I would be afraid too if I were staring into the face of the Angel of Death." Gilbert's face paled in dread as the Russian tightened the loop around his neck with a swift tug. "And I have come to welcome you to Hell." He whispered in his ear, "You traitorous rodent."
The week passed on agonizingly slow in the dark atmosphere of the Winter Palace of St. Petersburg. Ivan had taken the liberty of locking him up in what looked like a sitting room. It had tall gothic ceilings and large windows to his left, however Ivan had drawn the curtains shut and Gilbert just hadn't bothered opening them. Besides, he didn't really want to look outside if it was St. Petersburg. There wasn't much to see anyways.
He'd been staring at the different pieces of furniture all this morning. They were nice, but nothing that set them apart from anything. He did like all of the paintings though, it seemed to add life to the dreary white walls and dull golden moldings. The door to the room slowly creaked and Gilbert turned his head in the direction of the sound. A pane of light was cast on the floor and a shadow, blacker than black, slipped in and shut the door behind. He pretended that he hadn't noticed and got up to look at one of the paintings. "How are you?" echoed the shadow standing off in the far corner of the room.
"Bored…and you?"
"A little." He heard Ivan laugh quietly. "Would you like it better if I let you out more?" Prussia was idly tapping the picture's frame, trying to see how much force it would take to make it fall off. Hearing no response from him, Ivan started to walk towards him. "Please, do not ruin these paintings." He paused, "I wonder if I would be able to at least let you wander around if I kept you out of the state buildings." Prussia continued to act as if he wasn't listening and bashed his hand down on the corner of the frame. The picture wobbled and made a great amount of noise before resting against the wall again. "I told you to stop that…"
"Why, it don't look that important." He grumbled, pushing up the frame so that it fell to the floor with a clatter. An aggravated sigh resonated in the room.
"This whole room is important to me, the Malachite Room." Gilbert could hear the frustration in his voice growing. "Hang it back up." Ivan ordered.
"Why? It's yours, you hang it up!"
"You speak out of line…" Prussia couldn't help but laugh,
"Don't forget, I'm a far cry older than you. That makes me not have to listen to you." He said defiantly and crossed his arms. Russia snickered at him.
"You are under my authority now, and that beats seniority any day." Gilbert looked at him questioningly.
"Tch, whatever; pick it up yourself commie!" With this though, he might have gone a bit far. Ivan had swiftly grabbed his neck and pulled him close to his face, breathing down his neck angrily.
"Nyet, it is true. Eastern Germany and your state have come under Soviet occupation; and for your information Gilbert… I do not appreciate being called a 'commie'" he finished with an annoyed sneer. "Now pick it up; or, I will hang you by your neck in the cathedral." Gilbert tried not to gag when he pulled the taut cord around and ended up elbowing Russia to make him stop. He grumbled and let him go, forcing Prussia to pick up the painting and hang it back up on the wall. "Just because I am younger, doesn't make me weaker than you." He growled coldly and petted the back of Gilbert's head. His knuckles clenched white around the picture frame, trying to hold back a retort desperately. "Come with me, I want to show you something." Ivan cooed in his ear. Ivan's mood had changed drastically, he flinched when the Russian grabbed a handful of his jacket and tugged him away from the wall.
"What is it?" Prussia asked nervously. Ivan was breathing down his neck and ran his hand all the way down his back. Gilbert shivered, feeling extremely uncomfortable.
"It is a secret…" he smiled. "I can't tell you if it's a secret." Prussia was dreading every second that passed as Ivan lead him out the door and into the bright, illuminated hallways. He could hear Ivan laughing softly in his ear, "You and I are going to get along splendidly Gilbert, I just know it."