Winter
Ivan Braginski shivered as he trudged through the snow. He held the brown paper bag and its contents close to his body to keep it warm. Within was the remaining piece of bread and a bottle of vodka which he bought earlier that day.
When the Russian had noticed he was out of his favourite vodka, he decided to rush to town to buy more, and maybe even a loaf of bread to fill his belly. It had been a beautiful, sunny day. The sun looked like a giant sunflower in the clear blue sky and he relished what little warmth it had to offer. Then, on his return home along the country side, the blizzard suddenly hit. He cried out to General Winter, but, upon receiving no reply, he continued along on his freezing, miserable journey.
Suddenly, Ivan tensed. He felt a presence in the air around him. Grasping the bag tighter in one hand and reaching into his coat with the other, he curled his fingers around his stainless steel pipe reassuringly, ready to whip it out at any moment.
"Russia~! Fancy meeting you here, my dear counterpart~"
Ivan whipped around, but was met with a swath of icicles pelting his face. He dipped his head into his scarf to shield himself from the worst of it. The voice was familiar. It had the same tone as his voice, but was colder and far more sinister. He hated it. It was the very thing that he despised. This was the voice within his very being that denied him true friendship and robbed him of warmth and happiness. This was…
"Russia~!" a low, ear-wrenching beat of enormous wings sounded above the whistle of the winter storm. A figure, almost a mirror image to Ivan, dissolved from the storm. A melodic, chiming tinkle reached the personification's ears as the man before him folded his crystalline wings. A crown of ice sat atop his head, and in his hand was an iron pipe much like Ivan's own, but stained an ugly reddish brown. Easily mistaken for rust at first sight, Ivan knew this pipe bore the blood of countless victims, more so than he could ever dream of.
"King of Winter!" Ivan exclaimed. "Why have you come to harass me now. Can't you see I'm miserable enough?"
"Do not fear, malyutka~" the wintry apparition replied, flashing the country with a cold grin that made Ivan flinch. "I will watch over you… After all, that is what Angels must do, da?" He half-spread his wings, but it only made him look more intimidating.
"Call off the storm, Winter," Ivan growled, swallowing the tremor that leaked into his voice. "Tell the General to stop."
"Nyet~"
Ivan stood his ground as the icy king approached. Although this man was not the real Russia, and had no real political power whatsoever, he still held an incredible amount of natural power. In fact, the only times the two Russians really got along was when their land was truly being threatened. During times of peace, however, the self-appointed king found it fit to annoy Ivan to the best of his abilities.
"You cannot escape me, Ivan," the apparition growled. He placed an icy cold hand on the country's cheek, causing the skin beneath to burn red. "Nor can you escape General Winter. We help you, but we also play fair." He smiled. "We cannot spoil you with sunshine and sunflowers, malyutka."
Ivan growled. He hated when the other spoke like Ivan was beneath him. Russia suddenly whipped out his pipe and brought it down towards the Winter King, hoping to force the other into submission. Instead, his wintery adversary laughed and countered the strike with his iron pipe easily, tripping Ivan up in the process. Russia dropped his paper bag and pipe onto the snow as he tried to regain his footing. A strong gust of icy wind knocked the unbalanced nation to the ground. He felt the end of the blood-stained iron weapon press against his throat.
"You cannot deny Winter, Ivan," the Winter King sneered, cold, dark violet eyes boring into Ivan's own.
"I can deny it all I want!" Russia spat. "Winter isn't the only season that comes by here, krysa. When summer arrives I will tend to my sunflowers without having to worry about the ice and snow."
"We both know that is not the winter I am referring to, Ivan," the king sighed, kneeling over the nation. Russia bared his teeth defiantly. "I am speaking of the Winter that lies here, within you, Russia, not your land."
He reached out and touched the Russian's chest with an icy hand. His voice rang in Russia's head, although his body was swiftly fading, disappearing into the raging tempest around them.
"I am Winter, my dear Russia, and Winter is a part of you."
SnowAngel!Russia/Dark King of Winter belongs to me... Go RP with him on DevART
Translations:
malyutka - little one
krysa - rat
nyet - no
da - yes
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