The Real World
Russia closed his eyes, snuggled deep into a warm cocoon of blankets. Maybe he'd relive the wonderful times when the Soviet Union was still together...
Russia slowly opened his eyes, already imagining the warmth of the fire, the peals of laughter ringing through th air. But all he saw and heard was a blanket of clean white snow and the whistling of the wind. He shivered as the wind blew past, catching in his wings and throwing...
Wait.
Wings?
Russia twisted around, eyes wide. Two huge wings, chaotically swirled with color, sprouted from his back, their downy feathers ruffled by the wind.
"Hello, Russia!" A soft but cheerful voice called. Canada landed lightly, expertly drawing his own set of red and white wings in to fold against his back. "I see that you've found my dream world at last."
Russia nodded, curiously examining the tip of his wing. There were visible feathers, but the color was so smooth that it looked solid...
"You've got pretty wings..." said Canada, running a hand over one. "And they're soft, too!"
"Do the colors mean anything?"
Canada laughed. "I knew you'd figure it out. They represent all the different parts to your personality- white means kindness, red means anger, pink is love, blue is sadness, gray is loneliness... I could go on for ages."
"You have a lot of pink on your wings... Why?"
"Well, even though they forget me a lot, I love my family and Kumakichi..." he blushed. "And the one person that almost never forgets me... You."
"Da, Matvey," Russia pulled him close and kissed his forehead. "я тебя люблю*."
Suddenly Canada started to fade away, tiny red sparks swirling through the air around him.
"No- Matvey, where are you going?"
"I'm waking up... Goodbye, Ivan! I'll see you at the next meeting!" And with that, Canada disappeared completely.
With nothing else to do and no one to talk to, Russia decided to test out his wings. "VODKAAAA!" He leapt from the ledge he was standing on. Russia didn't fall for more than a moment before his wings caught the wind and he was blissfully gliding through the air. But all too soon, he felt his hands and feet begin to tingle. They were disappearing, yellow sparks drifting through the air. Russia smiled, slow, powerful, almost unconscious wing-beats holding him above the snowy peaks of the mountains. Russia's arms had faded away completely, and the tips of his wings were beginning to dissolve into last of his body disappeared, his last words in the dream world ringing through the air.
"I'd never leave if it were up to me!"
*I love you