45. Delicate Delicacies
Date Written: March 30, 2019
Date Posted: March 7, 2020
Characters: Veneziano, Belarus
Summary: Belarus plays medic while at a party.
Notes:
The short and long of the matter was simple: they were under attack. Okay, maybe they weren't specifically targeted, but when you were a Nation in a foreign land and something very close to a terrorist attack occurred, well… you were definitely on edge.
It was supposed to be an evening where Nations all over the world would be rubbing elbows and drinking overpriced liquor while talking shop about politics. Belarus had expected a few arguments to break out just because of past grudges and histories. Honestly, for some, it was purely for tradition that spats and squabbles were bound to happen. When the night had darkened and the moon had risen to its highest point in the sky, the night went from slightly entertaining to downright monstrous.
First, the lights had shut off. For most of the Nations attending, they had thought that it was a harmless prank or some sort of technical difficulty. Quiet murmurs had given way to uneasy laughter before there were gunshots that struck the air.
Most, if not all, Nations were more than adept with the art of war. Immediately, some burst to action trying to pinpoint where the shots had come from. Others checked if anyone was injured. Belarus had been on the outskirts of the crowded room, but had received no injury at the time.
Others, not so much.
When she traversed the crowd looking for her closest family members, she found someone collapsed on the floor. She hurried over, already in medical mode when upon further notice, she realized that it was the representative from North Italy. Hmm, she wasn't all too impressed with the state that he was in, but refrained from making a comment.
Quickly, she assessed that his body, while wounded, wasn't in too much of a state of disrepair. His economy, while it could clearly do better, did nothing to slow the rate of healing. In fact, as she watched, she could see that the blood seeping through the fabric was already slowing to a trickle. Still, it wouldn't do to leave him.
"Just a graze on my left side," he supplied helpfully.
"Shut up and don't move." She had already made that assessment upon first examination, but it was a nice affirmation. With the help of some cutlery and pure determination, she ripped out some parts of the outer layer of her evening gown. With practiced strokes, she immediately made a makeshift bandage to go around his midriff.
Italy chuckled at her ministrations. "I'm already healing, you don't need to—"
"Do you not have ears," she barked. "Don't talk. Has it occurred to you that pretty soon, human authorities will come swarming in? Don't you think it would be weird if the wounded just happened to look okay?"
He shrugged in response.
"I said, 'don't move'."
"I thought that you said don't talk."
She nearly stabbed him in the same area where the gunshot grazed him.
"Don't do both and maybe I'll let you live when we get this mess sorted out."
Italy was about to say that stabbing would be against the entire point, but he kept quiet.
Belarus huffed when she noticed that the small grin of appreciation did not falter under her unyielding gaze.