It has been forever since I have updated, but here it is. I apologize for the wait. I have no life. I need to stop spending so much time on homework and school. In an attempt to put a little joy back into my life, I decided to write. This story seems to get the most reviews out of all of mine, so I decided to update it first. Enjoy! And please forgive me. T.T
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Either way, no one ever tried to befriend him, for fear he might ask that question, "Become one with Russia, da?" It was in vain, though, he'd occasionally ask them all the same.
His presence was much too threatening, despite the much-too-innocent and child-like smile always on
his face.
But if someone were to, for some unfathomable reason, wish to ask him, "What do you want?" the answer would surprise them.
After all, they expect him to say, "For everyone to become one with Mother Russia," in a cheerful tone, fake smile in place.
Which he will say.
The first time, at least.
If that same person were to not believe him, and pursue him again, repeating the question:
"What do you really want?"
His features would smooth over, the smile fading, and he would sigh, looking so very, very tired. He would look that person over, then look them in the eyes, almost as if determining whether it's worth the trouble to answer that person.
That person may falter under his scrutinizing gaze, or decide to say, "Never mind," and leave.
If that person stays, however, and he considers that person worth it, then:
"Just a little," he would reply softly, barely audible.
No doubt, that person would confusedly ask for clarification: "What?"
"Just a little bit," he would repeat, a small, sad, but genuine smile on his face. That person would be stunned, too busy wondering at his rare, new display of real emotion to actually listen to him.
Ivan would begin to speak again, drawing that person's attention back to him. He would speak gently, longingly, wistfully…
"A little warmth.
A little bit of sunflowers.
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It was a peaceful morning in the Braginsky household. A small amount of grey light diffused through the thick curtains and a small clock ticked away on the wall. As if awakened by a silent alarm, the figure concealed under a mass of covers stirred, rolled over, and sat up, placing his feet on the floor beside the bed at exactly 7:00 sharp.
Although one would think to find the figure clad in only an undergarment of sorts or perhaps nothing, they were fully dressed in a pair of khaki slacks, a white fleece sweater and a scarf wrapped loosely around their neck.
Upon the bedside lamp being flipped on, the figure was illuminated and found to be Russia. Standing up from the bed, he crossed the dimly lit room on his already sock-covered feet and entered the restroom. After relieving himself and washing his hands, Russia looked in the mirror just long enough to tousle his hair into a somewhat less messy heap and exited his bath and bedroom, shutting both doors firmly behind him.
This had been his routine for years and he always completed these tasks in 5 minutes sharp. After all, Russia was a punctual person. Such habits had been instilled into him years and years ago. However, despite the typically normalcy and almost redundancy of his mornings, for what seemed like the first time in forever, there was a change in the typical decor of the hallway outside if his room. More than that, though, because it even smelled different.
Right outside his door, so close he had almost stepped on it, was a single sunflower. It was a beautiful gold which contrasted perfectly with the tan if the seeds and the green if the freshly cut stem. Bending down, the Russian grasped it tentatively between his fingers before lifting it to his face as he rose to his full height. He inhaled deeply and a small smile played at his lips, but never formed.
Letting his hand drop to his side, he proceeded down the hall to the stairs which led to the entrance hall. Wrapped up in the wonder of how the sunflower had gotten in front of his door, the Russian did not notice the vases scattered on tables throughout the entrance hall. When he looked up, however, he was baffled. Each decorative table on which pictures or figurines were placed now housed one or even two vases filled with gorgeous sunflowers. The air in the room was absolutely saturated with the warm aroma. It was no wonder the upstairs hall smelled like the flowers. The scent had probably diffused through the whole house.
Walking over to one if the vases, Russia admired them with great interest. They all seemed to be perfect. Each petal unaffected by bugs and the stems kept the flowers standing up straight. Determined to find the source of the decorations, Russia left the entrance hall and walked into the dining room. Here he found the most elaborate centerpiece created from sunflower petals and seed in a large clear bowl with candles matching candle protruding from the center. He went through room after room, each one filled with vases of sunflowers or decorations with a sunflower theme. In none of the rooms, though, did he find anyone to account for such decor.
Finally, he decided to check outside to see whose vehicles were in the driveway. Lately, the Baltics had taken to hanging out at other nation's homes and staying for days at a time and since each of them had their own vehicle, the automobiles in the driveway would give Russia a good idea of who was home or at least in town. Upon opening the door, it became clear that two or the three in the trio were not home. Lithuania's car was missing along with Estonia's. However, Latvia's Vairogs V8 "De Luxe" was sitting in the driveway. When he realized whose car this belonged to, however, Russia was a little confused. After all, he had passed the nation's bedroom on the way down and it had been empty. He had not been found in the rest of the house either.
It wasn't until now that Russia took the opportunity to look around the yard. He had not noticed at first, but even the yard was changed. The previously bare flowerbeds and boxes were now filled with many different types of sunflowers. Short ones occupied the window-boxes while ones of medium and large height were planted in the garden surrounding the house. The yellow and brown of the plants complemented the green shutters and white siding of the house wonderfully. However, even after looking around the yard he still could not find Latvia. As he walked around towered the back of the house, though, he saw a small figure clad in red sitting beneath a tree. It was here he found the little nation with hands and knees caked in soil and a smudge of mud on his right cheek. He was leaning against the tree asleep.
Under normal circumstances, Russia would have woken the country up, but from the look of the work done on both the inside and outside of the house, he figured Latvia had only been asleep for an hour or two, so he instead picked him up and carried him inside the house where it was warmer.
Russia was surprised by how light and tiny the other nation was. It was at that moment, though, that the Russian remember why.
~~~
It was 1970 and the Soviet Union had just invaded Afghanistan, but the talk of rebellion was spreading through the countries behind the Iron Curtain. Russia and his boss Mr. Khrushchev had started cracking down on the revolts. 600,000 troops had been sent to Prague to squash a mere student led rebellion. In contrast, all of Afghanistan had just been conquered with a mere 100,000 troops and the Soviets had been fighting the Americans and Mujahedeen in addition to the Afghan army. They were desperate to keep their republics and satellites firmly behind the curtain and in their grasp.
"You will never leave me, right Lith?" Russia asked the shorter nation with the air of hopefulness a child would have asking Santa for a new toy.
"I-I-I won't leave," the Lithuanian said, fear contorting his face and words.
"You won't either, will you Estonia?"
"O-o-of course no-o-ot," the Estonian said with a forced smile that ended up just looking pained.
"Latvia?" the Russian asked expectantly, turning to the smallest nation.
"I would never leave, Russia," he replied somewhat timidly like a little dog expecting to be kicked.
"Good," Russia said, pressing down on Latvia's head heavily.
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For his whole existence as a country, all Russia had done was push the other nation down to keep him from growing up-to keep him from becoming strong enough to leave. Only now did Russia realize how weak the other country was, how drastically his constant oppression had affected the nation now being carried with the greatest gentleness by the much larger nation.
It didn't take long for Russia to stride into the house and instead of walking all the way to Latvia's room, he lightly deposited him on the couch in the living room and removed a blanket from the hall closet which he covered the small body lying feebly on the couch with.
However, as Russia turned around and exited the living room, he heard a quiet rustle and yawn followed by a soft voice from behind him.
"Mister Russia?"
Spinning around, Russia looked at Latvia who had swung his legs over the side of the couch and was rubbing his eyes with his hands with blankets tangled around his legs, looking very much like a small child.
"Good… ah… good morning," Russia muttered, not used to friendly greetings.
There was an awkward pause before Russia spoke again, "Was it you who placed all these sunflowers everywhere, Latvia?"
"Yeah," the small nation replied in mid stretch, "I wanted to surprise you when you woke up."
Russia paused in shock. No one had ever done anything for him like that. He was labeled as insane-no one ever wanted to be around him.
"Why?" Russia mumbled, stumbling over his words, "Why would you do something like that for me?"
Latvia smiled before standing up and crossing the distance between Russia and himself before looking up at the taller man and hugging him briefly.
"Isn't that the second thing on your list?" he asked, "A little bit of sunflowers."
Russia had allowed the smaller nation to hug him, not really returning the embrace, still surprised.
"I guess it was," Russia admitted softly, "I'm not so sure this is just a little bit of sunflowers, though, Latvia. Did you cut down a whole sunflower field, Lati?"
Latvia laughed cheerfully, placing his hands on his hips, "Why only settle for quality when you can have quantity too?"
Without meaning too, that one little statement reminded Russia of his rule under the dictators of the 20th century. He remembered Lenin's gulags, but mostly the collectivization farms established by Stalin. In an attempt to make the Soviet Union a world superpower, the crazed Stalin forced wealthy soviet farmers-kulaks-onto mass farms where conditions were harsh and they worked long efforts. All in an effort to produce the maximum food possible to support the nation. Many died. Fourteen and a half million to be exact. All of them innocent Russian citizens. It was one of the many atrocities Russian blamed himself for. How could he not? He lived through it and did nothing to stop it. That was why he was not worth the compassion of others. He was nothing but scum. Not worth a thing. He had failed his people-his comrades and he would pay for it for an eternity and be grateful, for he deserved much more.
Latvia's smile faded from his face as he saw Russia's eyes glaze over. It was clear that he was not in the present anymore. He was reliving a very different time. A time that was not as hopeful as this one. Thinking about what he had said, Latvia realized his faux pa. Even he remembered the time he was sure Russia was recalling. It was a year after Latvia had become recognized as a country and a few years after the Romanovs'-the royal family who had ruled the Soviet Union for centuries-removal from power in the Russian Revolution. A man named Vladimir Ilyich Lenin who had led the Bolshevik forces in the Revolution had emerged victorious and took power as dictator of the USSR. He placed into work the ideas of Communist philosopher Karl Marx and set up the first concentration camps to take care of those who did not follow his ideals. That was the beginning of the the Soviet Union and it rose out of blood.
After Lenin's death in January of 1924, a power struggle for dictator ensued, but it was the man who Lenin had warned not to allow to take the office of dictator who, in the end, won after years of violence. He was a strong leader and wanted to surpass the United States in power by defeating them in the Cold War. To do this, he decided that the Soviet Union needed a firm financial and economical base. All over the USSR, collectivization farms were set up which were similar to labor camps that the Nazis were using during WWII and in a way paid tribute to Lenin's gulags. Millions died in the collectivization farms meant to increase food production. In the end, though, food production decreased by 25%. At the end of World War II, paranoid of a possible revolt of the returning soldiers against himself, Stalin had them all sent to gulags in Siberia. Between this continued use of gulags, the labor farms, the Second World War, and the Great Purge, and the famine in Ukraine, 20 million people had died under the reign of Joseph Stalin.
Although things got better under the reign of future dictators like Nikita Khrushchev, and Mikhail Gorbachev, Russia the country, and certainly Russia the person was never the same again. They were scared, and labeled by the rest of the world as a monster.
Scared for both the man standing in front of him and his own well being, Latvia placed his hand on Russia's arm.
"Mister Russ-" Latvia was cut off by a hand gripping his throat. His fingers flew to the hand, trying to pry it free to restore air flow to his lungs, but it was no use. Compared to Russia, he was too weak. He felt himself being lifted from the ground, his feet dangling in the air now. He was eye level with the nation in front of him who just moments ago had a small smile dancing behind his eyes. Now the same eyes were black holes-never ending depths that seemed to suck any joy right from you. They could be described with one word. Insane.
Using the last air he had left, Latvia tried to choke out a plea, "Russia… it's not… real. What you're… seeing."
With no air left, Latvia's vision was being invaded by black splotches. Without warning, though, Russia blinked and dropped his hold on the smaller nation's neck. Sucking in large amounts of air, Latvia stumbled backwards to dodge any more possible blows, but when he looked up, Russia was simply standing there like a stone, staring at the breathless country.
"I am sorry. I must go," Russia mumbled before turning quickly and flying out of the door, closing it with a slam.
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TADA! Here it is! A little bit of sunflowers. Aww… you're so sweet, Latiii! 3 I am sorry Russia went bat shit crazy at the end. I want this story to be about him getting better and recovering from his past, so he has to go through conflict.
On another note, this chapter is helping me study for my test in school over the Soviet Union! All facts and figures given here on Russian history are correctly incorporated from my notes. Most of the numbers are debated by historians as there isn't exact record, so please DO NOT comment saying, "50 million people died under Stalin!" or whatever. I will ignore your comment and probably get a little pissed, because you should have read this little rant.
Anyway, you don't have to review, although I will be honest, it is the reviews that encourage me to update.
So… review, da? ~Alexis