Hello there. I seem to have proven to myself that it is physically possible to beat a dead muse back to life, with a lot of help from a friend. Thank god for inspiration and his poems.
The poem inspired this ficcy (which should be multiple chapters, don't expect fast updates) is Never Embraced. Please, look that up on deviantART, the author is MasterChief37. Several of his poems have inspired other stories I will later write.
This a purely plot+fluff Alfie/Nati fic. I'm not going to write smut, but if the story comes to it, it will be implied, or I'll be annoying and skip to the next morning/a few hours later.
Because I really am not good at smut.
Anyways, enough of my babbling.
Disclaimer: Why do I need one? This is a fanfiction site, no? Shouldn't it be implied that I don't own anything if it's fanfiction? Ya know, not canon?
Restless wandering, small sniffling, curious whimpers. Where was she going? What was the point of it all? It seemed her brother's refusal her, time and again, had finally broken her. She couldn't last much longer on her own. Never once would she admit it aloud, but she was in desperate need of someone reliable. Not just her sister. Not just the Lithuanian boy who fancied her. She needed someone who wasn't on her side out of pity.
She needed someone to be her hero.
Such a large dream filled her mind, giving her the first genuine experience of giddiness in years. Yes, a hero. Someone to save her, care for her, help her through her poor health. The mere thought of it lifted her spirits, warming her against the winter's biting cold. A small smile formed on her lips, though it was far from touching her eyes. The feelings brought with the fantasy died quickly, but she let the smile stay. Why shouldn't she? Let the world assume she was strong. That she could stand on her own. That she wasn't about to collapse, mumbling wishes of a lover's warm embrace.
Yes. Let the world assume.
The shuffling feet crunched on snow, low cursing interrupted with sneezes and shivers. Damn. Why were European winters so brutal?
Why was he even in Europe?
Wait. That's right. The Commie asked him over. Promised to pick him up at the airport. Ha! Like he should have trusted him. If the American weren't so damn blind to the rest of the world's weather, he would have arranged a limousine or something. With snow chains, of course. And a damn heater.
"G-god damn that C-c-c-c-c dammit!" Huddling in on himself, he cursed his idiocy again. His jacket was rated for a Texan winter, not a Russian one. "Sh-shoulda as-sss-sked Mattie f-fer his c-coat."
Keeping his eyes fixed to the ground, his only entertainment as he slowly ambled down the deserted road, he nearly jumped when he collided with another person. Jesus, who would be out here in the middle of a damn blizzard? Why was he out- wait, Commie. Right.
Stuttering out apologies and offers of help, the American bent down to where the person had fallen. Man, this chick was crazy. He was freezing his spoiled behind off with actual winter gear, but there she was, taking a nap in the snow, wearing only an English maid dress.
Why would someone wear a dress like that if they weren't even in England?
Poking the unconscious girl, he looked around to see if there was a way to get her help. It couldn't be healthy to sleep in frozen stuff, right? Of course, he wasn't a doctor or anything. Maybe this is how they bathed in this country or something. Kinda weird, though.
"H-hey, girl, you ok-kay?" he asked, shaking her shoulder. His only answer was a mumble, something he couldn't discern.
Sighing, he picked the girl up, surprised that he could. Well, yeah, he was strong and all, being a man, but he had recently…'let' his body get a tad out of shape. The girl herself was super-light, but he just tacked it on to how his muscles must make everything seem they weighed so little, because he was strong. Yep. That was it. That was totally the reason why she seemed to be more doll-like than human.
Looking at her as he walked along, he noticed she looked oddly familiar. Kinda had an eerie air about her, and he swore he felt a knife attached to her leg- not that he was going to check, he was a gentleman after all- but he felt he knew her from somewhere. Probably was a tourist at D.C., he thought, Or like a maid or something to the Commie.
But if she were a maid, why was she ten miles from the Commie's house? Didn't servants like live in the palace or something? Or was he remembering a different country's custom?
Oh well. He guessed he could ask her later, if she woke up. She looked rather peaceful though. He hoped she stayed that way when she was awake. Mattie did, why shouldn't she?
Stopping his pace, he looked about. Did the Commie change his language? He wondered stupidly. The sign he was staring at was covered in scratches, painted over so it gave the appearance of letters. Not a single shape looked at all similar to a Cyrillic letter.
Not that he figured that out. Finding another sign above a door- reading what he assumed was the word Inn- he made his way over there, moving with slight difficulty. Was it physically possible for muscles to freeze while still inside your body?
Smiling warmly at the half-asleep lady behind the counter, he paid for the room, thinking it outrageous before remembering the value of the Russian ruble.
How does the Commie's country still have power, let alone an economy.