Disclamier: No, I don't own APH.
Russia stood and stared, just as he had for the past ten minutes or so.
He had actually been running away from Belarus, and had managed to lose her in the many hallways and stairs. However, he had also managed to lose himself. He had then wandered deep in the bowels of the art museum, looking for a way out, when he spotted it.
It was a simple painting, probably put up for its delicate beauty rather than details. The sky was a deep, lazy blue, and the ground was covered in a soft, thin layer of snow. What had made him stare, though, were the field of sunflowers painted meticulously on its soft paper.
It was like a dream come true. Snow and sunflowers, coexisting happily together without the flowers wilting or the snow melting. Simply beautiful.
Now Russia couldn't just leave it there, could he?
Knowing that he'd only have a few minutes, Russia quickly stepped closer, setting off a warning alarm and put his fingers on the edges.
Now that got the pesky alarm excited.
Practically ripping the painting from the wall, Russia slung it under his arm and took off down the hall, searching for the nearest window (the artist rolled over in his grave; no one should treat his painting so carelessly!). When he found it, he clasped the painting to his chest and shielded it with his body as he jumped out the window and landed gracefully on the ground.
He began humming a merry little tune as he ran down the pavement, the museum's security hot on his heels, and thought, America was right! I did enjoy the art museum!
Italy dragged Germany down the hall, babbling about some of the art pieces in the museum. He seemed recovered from the earlier scare in the Sears tower (Or had they renamed it…?), with the glass box. America had taken them out there, and then it was discovered Italy was terrified of heights. Surprisingly, America had apologized and told Italy about a super-secret-awesome Italian restaurant that no one knew about to make him feel better. It had worked; the promise of food had certainly boosted Italy's mood.
Germany grunted with satisfaction at a strict painting, liking the fact that it was a bit predictable; everything was so much better when it was straight and narrow. Then his eyes fell on a row of long, sharp lances and spears. He smirked at them; they were quite impressive. His blue eyes even recognized one of them as his own a long time ago.
Then he nearly choked on his breath when he saw where four or five of the others had been made, all sharp and dangerous looking.
"I-Italy?" Germany asked hesitantly, beckoning his cheerful friend over. Said nation skipped over happily. "Yes, Germany?"
Germany nodded towards the weapons. "Are those…?"
Italy looked over. "Oh! I remember those!" He seemed unaffected by the fact he'd made really sharp scary weapons.
"Did you…um…u-use them? To…hurt people?" It was hard to imagine his little Italy wielding big spears and lances, it couldn't be true!
Italy actually laughed, and suddenly normally happy self grew a darker tone. "Germany, what else did you expect to use them for…?"
"Englaaaaand!" America whined, hiding his face behind Canada's back. "Why do all your paintings gotta have naked people in theeem?"
England snorted, though his face also sported a light pink blush. "It's—all European countries, not just me, you git! Half of this is France's work, I'll bet!"
England had insisted they go to the modern European paintings, to see "some real, decent artwork!" The European nation had all but insulted some of America's best work, calling them "simple" and "crudely done". Of course, anything that wasn't from the U.S. was simply stunning and beautiful. So America had agreed (grudgingly, of course) and had led them all to the modern European works. Needless to say, half the pictures in there had people flashing them all, not seeming to care they were showing naughty things to the world.
"Oh non, Angenterre, much of this is yours." France crowed, a rose poised delicately in his hand.
England just blushed a brighter color, and frowned, turning away. However his eyes accidently caught on a rather showing picture and they immediately fell to the ground, cheeks turning a darker red.
"Sh-Shut up frog!" He said; insult losing most of its sting with the trembling in his voice.
Matthew looked unaffected, seemingly unconscious of all the flashy work around him (this probably was a byproduct of being raised by France) and said, "It's not so bad, once you get used to it."
"M-Mattie, how could you actually like this stuff? They're all…" Alfred whimpered, clinging to the back of his jacket. "Naked!"
England blushed and choked, France laughed and pulled a rose out of nowhere, and Matthew just sighed.
Listen, it's been a bit, and I have to say... I do have an excuse, however pitiful. I just kind of... lost the writing funk, you know? Even when someone reviewed who wasn't Phamenia (Phamenia's awesome, but she's one of my best friends. She's supposed to be ultra nice and stuff.) I checked it said that no one had read it. I just kind of... lost it for a few days. It was selfish of me, I know, but now I'm back.
Enough about me! There was something I forgot to mention in the last chapter; I don't like making Russia the bad guy. I love him and I think he's amazing and he shouldn't be made the bad guy all the time just because he's creepy, but he was the only one who fit the role without some major OOCness. So now that that's said and done...
Yes! After a World Meeting in the humble city of Chicago, America takes them to the Sears Tower and then on to the Art Museum (and about that thing with Germany: I know they renamed the Sears Tower, but I can't for the life of me remember what it's new name was and I'm too lazy to look it up.). Russia stole a painting; Germany learned a dark secret about Italy and America got his innocence torn to shreds. I recently went to the Art Museum myself, and I know for a fact those old lances and spears and stuff actually came from Italy; I saw it with my own two damn eyes. I cracked up so bad. And when we went into the Modern European wing-well... that was a little awkward. The only painting I'm not sure exists is the painting Russia stole. Thanks!
IceEckos12