Bursting through the intimidating doorway, Ludwig emerged breathlessly into the Russian's quarters. He felt ready to take on anything, and maybe…just maybe, even Ivan himself. But an immediate flush of embarrassment lit up the German's cheeks at his wrong assumptions upon entering the room.
To his surprise, Ivan hadn't even left his dormitory; it seems he was busy toiling away at dinner for himself. Used pots and pans were coated in oils from cooking, mingling in a sea of soapy dishwater as each was discarded accordingly. The finished culinary dish laid nearby, displayed artfully upon a bronze platter embroidered with the Soviet insignia.
Instantly a familiar smell blessed Ludwig's nose, a salmon dish, sprinkled with lemon.
"Care to join me, Ludwig?" Ivan offered as he carried the dish to an unfortunately familiar dining table, smiling warmly at the blonde despite his abrupt, yet predictable entrance. "You won't have to fear, this dish is clear of drugs of any kind." He commented with a chuckle, seating himself.
Haha…as if I'd trust Ivan's word alone.
Ludwig shook his head in a polite, withdrawn refusal. Instead he made his way over to the man, taking a seat by his side at the table in an oddly designed chair.
"Hmm…" Ivan rested a gloved hand atop Ludwig's, meeting his lowly gaze. "It seems it doesn't take an aphrodisiac to get you to sit next to me after all." He grinned, his eyes bright with hope. The Ruski had never known the feeling of friendship before, it was absolutely foreign to him.
"I-Ivan, I need to ask you something, it's a matter of urgency…" Ludwig insisted; unaware that he'd tightened his grasp around the Russian's hand.
"Well, if it's so urgent, then speak, Ludwig." Ivan resolved simply, flashing a smile that, to Ludwig, even in the worst of moments seemed cute.
"It's about P-"
"Prussia, da?" Ivan interrupted; removing his hand from Ludwig's to fold his arms across his chest. "Can't we just have one visit together where the topic isn't on that…that…brutish example of the benefits of abortion…" Ivan snarled; then realizing he'd lost his complacent form, corrected himself with an *ahem*, a small giggle escaping his lips.
"Ivan, please, if you know anything…or did any-"
"Please, Ludwig." Ivan interjected, "Leave the 21 questions game to grade school children." He spat coldly, taking a quick swig of vodka from a flask he held close to his heart, tucked safely away into an inner trench coat pocket. "If you're going to accuse me of something, please get to the point." Ivan eyed the blonde directly.
"Gilbert is missing, Ivan, and I've got a feeling you know more about his disappearance than you let on." Ludwig glared at the smiling Russian, newfound courage flooding his chest as he spoke clearly.
Ivan continued to eat, unresponsive to Ludwig's accusation, pausing only to take a swig of water. The clink of silverware permeated the silence, and Ludwig felt his confidence waning. Nothing he'd said had even made an impression on the Ruski, not even a blink of an eye.
"Answer me at once, Ivan Braginski, or admit you're a mere shadow of the Communist regime." Ludwig snapped, his booming voice was his last weapon at the moment, and he intended to use it to grab the blonde's attention.
All Ludwig saw was a flash of a pink scarf as his head was smacked into the oak table violently. It took all his strength to remain conscious, the room spinning out of control as a dull pain sunk into his skull. Gloved fingers pressed into his skin like 5 needles, vodka-tainted breath looming over his ear.
"It seems your absence from my residence has caused you to forget your manners." Ivan sneered, pulling the blonde from his seat by the fabric of his shirt collar. "If you want to ask for something, you say please." He lectured, throwing Ludwig to the floor roughly.
He kneeled to Ludwig's semi-conscious body, grabbing a fistful of the blonde's collar once more, lifting him from the floor like a rag doll. "Perhaps years of tolerating that Prussian fool has poisoned the prim attitude of a true German." Ivan smiled, toying with the blonde's pride. He lifted the blonde over his shoulder, carrying him none-too-delicately out of the kitchen area, into a darker region of the Russian's dormitory.
"Now, if you wanted to see your brother, you could have just asked." Ivan said simply, continuing into the dark area.
Ludwig's eyesight wasn't failing him as he'd first thought, he was brought into absolute darkness. He could feel slight bumps from atop Ivan's shoulder. He assumed by the constant bumps that they were descending quite a few flights of stairs. He hung helplessly over Ivan's shoulder, unable to see, only able to feel the slow, easy breathing of the Russian as he walked.
The trip ended with a sudden halt, and Ludwig was dropped abruptly at the Russian's feet. The room was musty, freezing, and just felt cramped and uncomfortable altogether. Ludwig crawled around, finding his footing slowly, but winced as he hit his head on dangling objects on his way up. Staring into darkness, he could only hear a faint metallic ringing.
Chains?
From the ceiling?
Where the hell did Ivan take me?
As if on cue, Ivan walked away from Ludwig briefly, flicking a light switch. Above them, a dimly lit bulb went on. The heavy *thump* of the Russian's boots inched closer as Ivan directed the blonde's attention to the spectacle in front of them, grasping the German's hand tightly. Ludwig gasped, only able to move his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.
Suspended only by corroded chains was a bloody mess of a body, its limbs twisted in unnatural positions. It writhed among the tangled chains, attempting to capture as much oxygen as its undoubtedly damaged lungs could take in. Whimpering cries hit Ludwig's ears, it pulled at every fiber within him. In the past he'd seen victims of war in better condition, and he was compelled to help.
He broke from Ivan's grasp, running towards the horrifying scene before him.
"I tried to warn you…" Ivan murmured, shaking his head sadly.
"Wh….what have you done to this…this…poor soul?" Ludwig cried in shock, his entire body trembling violently. He'd seen the Russian's wrath before, but nothing compared to this. "And where is my brother!" Ludwig shouted angrily, perusing the dimly lit room frantically.
"I believe you've missed the point of my little exhibit." Ivan replied, approaching the hysterical blonde without hesitation. His gloved hand directed Ludwig's attention towards the floor once more.
A single, wispy object had fallen from the body, floating languidly for a moment in midair. It landed on the floor in silence, a single droplet of blood ebbing from its tiny fibers.
It was a tiny, golden feather.
A tiny, bloodred, golden feather.
Ludwig belted out a painful roar, his knees buckling immediately, unable to move.