First, an author's note! Hello all, I got bored a while ago, so I created a playlist of the songs I listened to while writing this. If you want to listen to it, the link is on my profile, at the top so you won't have to scroll down through the other crap I've plastered on there like band-aids on a three-year-old.
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Gem of the crimson-color'd Even,
Companion of retiring day,
Why at the closing gates of heaven,
Beloved Star, dost thou delay?
So fair thy pensile beauty burns,
When soft the tear of twilight flows;
So due thy plighted love returns
To chambers brighter than the rose;
To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love
So kind a star thou seem'st to be,
Sure some enamour'd orb above
Descends and burns to meet with thee!
Thine is the breathing, blushing hour
When all unheavenly passions fly,
Chased by the soul-subduing power
Of Love's delicious witchery.
Excerpt from To the Evening Star, ~Thomas Campbell
"Where are we going, Russia?" Estonia asked, pulling out of the driveway. Russia glanced out the window for a moment, considering.
"Red Square of Moscow," he decided, turning to America. "I think you should see St. Basil's Cathedral, since you liked that other church this morning."
"Sounds great!" America said, smiling and staring intently out the window. Estonia began driving down the highway, and everyone was happily watching America stare out the windows, gawking cheerfully at practically anything.
America exclaimed, "Oh, cool!" when they reached the Square. On each side stood the Kremlin, GUM Department Store, State Historical Museum, and St. Basil's Cathedral. "Hang on, it's not red?" America asked, confused.
"Technically," Russia explained, grinning. "The name for it is 'krasnaya', which means 'red' now, but when it was named, it meant 'beautiful'."
"Oh, that makes sense," America said. The car made a different noise going over the cobblestones of the Square than it did on the regular roads, kind of more bumpy, but not in an uncomfortable way. America noted the large church on one end, tall and amazingly colorful.
"That is St. Basil's Cathdral," Russia said, following America's eyes. "A Russian Orthodox church built in 1552 to celebrate the capture of Kazan and Astrakhan. It was originally known as Trinity Church, or Trinity Cathedral, but it burnt down in 1583, but it was fully rebuilt by 1593. Once rebuilt, it was known as the Cathedral of the Intercession of the Virgin on the from the late 16th century through the entire 17th it was known as Jerusalem. Its current and final name was received when Basil the Blessed, also known as Basil Fool for Christ, died around 1552. It may have been 1557; no one knows for sure." Russia explained the church's history as they got out of the car—Estonia and Lithuania saying they would wait for them out of the cold—and walking to the Cathedral.
"Why'd they name the church after him?" America asked, tilting his head up to look at it. He didn't care much anymore that the snow was in his face; he guessed he had gotten used to it.
"Basil was born to Jacob and Anna in the portico of the local church in Yelokhovo." Russia began explaining, but was interrupted by America.
"Wait, 'portico'? What's that?" America asked. Russia led him out of the snow and under the roof of the cathedral.
"This is a portico," Russia said. "The place where there is a roof, but no walls. Replacing the walls, there are usually columns."
"Like the Lincoln Memorial Building back in D.C?" America asked.
Russia tried to think about America's various monuments dedicated to his variety of presidents. Wasn't the Lincoln one the one with the large statue of the man in the chair? The one with the beard? "Da, I think that's it," Russia murmured. "So da, that is a good example of a portico."
"Oh, I see. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you. Please, go on," America apologized. As soon as Russia began talking again, America gazed at him with rapt attention. He was actually paying more attention that he paid to almost anything, including World Conferences.
"Basil developed a habit of shoplifting and giving the things he took to poor people. I suppose you could say he was the Russian version of your Robin Hood," Russia mused. "He would wear rags, and sometimes nothing at all, and wore chains clamped to his wrists and ankles. St. Basil also chastised the Grand Prince of Moscow at the time for his horrible tendencies to injure the lower classes, and for not listening during church services. But he also impressed the Grand Prince by accurately foreseeing that there would be a fire in Moscow in 1547. When he died on August second, the Grand Prince of Moscow even volunteered to be a pallbearer. Basil was buried in the Cathedral, and was declared to be a saint circa 1580."
"Where was he buried in the cathedral?" America asked. He wasn't sure why it intrigued him so much, but it was actually pretty interesting. Plus, Russia looked happy to be able to share the cathedral's history with him.
"All right, come on outside again," Russia said, trying to tug America out from under the portico and into the snow. He could instantly tell that it was going to be a challenge.
"Aw, but it's cold out," America whined, dragging his feet on the stone floor.
"Don't you want to see the tribute that was build to the man who inspired the name of this Cathedral?" Russia asked. He had stopped attempting to drag America out, instead opting for backing out on his own. Just like Russia knew he would, America grudgingly muttered something affirmative and rushed after him, calling for Russia to wait up. It was another of his child-like traits: America never wanted to be left alone somewhere. That was probably the reason he had Tony the alien, and that brief bout with befriending all the whales at Japan's. Russia heard America's quick footsteps echoing off the stone as he ran to catch up to him. Russia walked a few feet in the snow and pointed to a small dome on the Cathedral.
"See that dome over there?" Russia asked. America tried to follow where he was pointing, and came to the conclusion that it was the large, striped one on the right.
"That one?" he asked, gesturing to the dome. Russia shook his head.
"Nyet, not that one, the one over to the left." Russia took hold of America's wrist and moved his arm over left, until America saw the smaller, green-and-red-colored dome, with golden points going up towards the tapered tip.
"Oh yeah, I see it now! The one with the golden cross on the top?" America questioned.
"They all have crosses on the top. But yes, that's the one," Russia confirmed. "It was the ninth chapel built. St. Basil was buried there, too. There used to be only eight domes in perfect symmetry, and they each stood for a different assault on the city of Kazan. The symmetry was thrown off when the ninth one was built."
"Can we go inside?" America asked. "I'm losing feeling in my fingers. And my face feels numb."
Russia laughed quietly. "Of course, Alfred. Come on," he said, leading America back under the portico and into the Cathedral. "St. Basil's Cathedral is now actually a museum, so it is not a church anymore."
America gaped open-mouthed in awe when they walked inside the Cathedral. Beautiful old portraits had been carefully painted on the walls, depicting men in armor wielding swords; women in colorful robes kindly embracing children; and both men and women simply standing there, peaceful looks upon their faces.
Where there were no pictures of people, faded designs illustrated the walls. They didn't seem to be anything specific, but that made them no less picturesque. Gentle black swirls caressing the graying paint of the walls, with curved shapes of red, blue, and green on the ends. When America looked again, the weird shapes looked like flowers; tulips, sort of. And the green ones looked like leaves, resting softly under the red and blue flower prints.
Doorways were bordered with the designs, and on each side stood columns, also bearing the motifs. The doors themselves were built with equal precision; some of them were carved from dark wood, and others were adorned with golden patterns, twirling delicately along the painted surface.
"Wow, Vanya, this is amazing," America said softly, still looking around with wide eyes. Blinking, he stopped looking up; there were ornate golden chandeliers hanging from heavy black chains above them. Though they were nice to look at, the light had burned a blobby circle shape into America's retinas.
"Trippy," he muttered, waiting for the multicolored shape to stop spinning around in his vision. Russia looked at him in confusion.
" 'Trippy', Alfred?" he asked. America didn't respond, still blinking and turning his head randomly. Russia waved a hand in front of America's face, and America turned to look at him.
"Oh, it's just the lights," he explained. Russia gave an, 'ah' of understanding, though he still wasn't quite sure what America meant. By that time, the little purplish blobs had disappeared, leaving America free to look around unhindered again. Russia began taking America around, pointing out the specific sights and attractions. America went along with him enthusiastically, smiling and asking numerous questions.
"Can we see that place where St. Basil was actually buried?" America asked curiously.
"Of course. It's right here on the bottom floor," Russia said, leading the way down the halls. He matched his pace with America's slow one as America looked around at everything with interest. No matter how long he stared at the intricate patterns on the walls, they never ceased to capture his interest.
"This is St. Basil's chapel," Russia announced, and America tore his eyes away from the ceiling to look in front of him. There was a showy silver casket in the middle of the room, with some sort of sign on the wall next to it. America looked at it, but found that it was in Russian.
"You're not going to make me try to read it out again, are you?" America asked warily. Russia smiled and shook his head.
"It just says that this is the casket of St. Basil the Blessed, and this is where he is entombed," Russia explained. "It is said that when it was first opened, his body was entirely intact, a waxy yellow color, and it smelled like Basil."
America paused for a moment. "I'm not sure whether to find that awesome or creepy," he said. Russia grinned and America continued to gaze at the chapel. After that, Russia led him up a spiral staircase of shady wood and steep stone, saying that it hadn't been discovered until 1970, to the Chapel of the Intercession of the Blessed Virgin. One entire wall was dedicated to portraits of everything from people to landscapes. And it wasn't just a little framed painting. No, the whole wall was covered with them, in various shades of brilliant blue and shimmering gold. Russia gestured grandly to it and explained that it was a Baroque iconostasis from the 19th century.
After the Chapel of the Intercession, Russia took America to the rest of the Cathedral. They saw the chalice that used to belong to Tsar Aleksey Mikhailovich in the 17th century, a small replica of the Cathedral in another one of the chapels, and many more oil paintings and wide, arched windows, giving a spectacular view unto the Red Square. In some places of the Cathedral, the paint on the walls had faded so much, it was reduced to a faint outline. America smiled as Russia would gesture to things, explaining their importance, or just pointing something out about them.
After they had seen everything in the Cathedral, Russia took America back outside. The snow was beginning to stop, and the flakes were much more infrequent. America was grateful that he didn't have to lower his head anymore and turned his face to the sky, smiling. Russia took him over to a large statue in the front, featuring two men, one standing and wielding a sword, the other sitting and sporting a large shield.
"This is the Statue to Minin and Pozharsky," Russia explained. "Dmitry Pozharsky was a prince, and Kuzma Minin was a butcher. They collected the all-Russian volunteer army and removed Poland from the Moscow Kremlin, which ended the Time of Troubles in 1612. It used to be in the middle of the Red Square, but people thought that it impeded parades through the square, so it was moved here in 1936."
While Russia was explaining and America was talking excitedly, Estonia and Lithuania were still sitting in the car, watching out the back window with entertainment.
"How long have they been in there?" Lithuania asked.
"About an hour and a half," Estonia said. "Oh, wait, here they come." And he was correct; Russia and America were walking back to the car; America was trying to catch snowflakes in his mouth, and Russia was simply watching him with amusement. All three laughed when a flake landed on America's nose, and he went cross-eyed trying to see it. America laughed along with them and shoved Russia's shoulder playfully. Russia, unsure of how to reply, reciprocated the gesture. Unfortunately for him, his version was a tad too hard, and America landed on his butt in the snow. He began laughing again and a more-than-slightly confused Russia helped him up. America was still laughing when the two reached the car. Estonia got out and opened the door for Russia and America.
"Where to now?" he asked, unable to keep from smiling.
"Here, why don't you let me drive, Eduard?" Russia asked. "You've been driving all day, and it was a long drive from the house. I'll do it for the rest of the day."
"Oh, well, sure, if you insist," Estonia said. He felt uneasy about letting Russia drive for a moment, though he wasn't sure why. He and Lithuania switched to the backseat, and America clambered into the passenger's seat. Russia got behind the wheel and looked through the windshield at the Square.
"I think we should all go to the G.U.M," he decided. America looked at him with a confused look on his face. "It's a department store," Russia explained. "A very large one, like a mall."
"Awesome! Let's go!" America said happily. Russia started the car, and Estonia was reminded why he had felt nervous about Russia driving. The reminder came in the form of Russia two-wheeling it across the square, a clueless smile on his face as he nearly ran over a mass of people.
A/N: Yay! 5th chapter! I decided to split this particular bit into a few pieces, so it needed some altering. Thanks for reading!
Reviews are always welcomed, and suggestions and constructive criticism are appreciated!
