http://lietuvabrangi.livejournal.com/ (
lietuvabrangi.livejournal.com) wrote in
entrancelogs2009-01-29 10:30 pm
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Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Lithuania (
lietuvabrangi) and Russia (
sunflowersunday)
Where: Lithuania's room (1-216)
When: Evening.
Rating: PROBABLY PRETTY BAD we'll go with PG-13 for now, for violence.
Summary: Lithuania's getting busted. It all started here!
Lithuania's stomach has been twisting and turning all day long. His nerves have been on edge, and he hasn't been able to do much of anything but sit there, twisting his hands, staring out the window into the frozen wasteland below and just worry.
The flag is tucked away somewhere safe for now, yes, but Liet knows he can't do much to hide himself, and Russia's already said that he's going to hurt him -- there'd been no pretenses.
It must mean that Russia is really angry, Lithuania thinks, and he shudders, again, sitting on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and just staring at the room beyond, not watching anything specific, but thinking.
He remembers, specifically, the time he stayed on a "sleepover" with Poland -- the man had somehow caught a glimpse of his back, and when Lithuania had stepped out of the bathroom, Poland had actually asked him what had happened. Lithuania had seized up, hadn't even known what to say...
That feeling from back then doesn't even compare to what Lithuania is feeling now. And even though Lithuania knows something is coming, he has to sit around and wait for it, and that is the worst of it, absolutely.
He stares at the door, waiting for it to open, willing himself to disappear. If Poland were here...
Lithuania almost laughs at himself. What could Poland really do? Anything? And even if he would, Lithuania could never ask him to take blows that Poland hadn't even earned.
This is his punishment. He has to take it. And that's all there is to it.
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Where: Lithuania's room (1-216)
When: Evening.
Rating: PROBABLY PRETTY BAD we'll go with PG-13 for now, for violence.
Summary: Lithuania's getting busted. It all started here!
Lithuania's stomach has been twisting and turning all day long. His nerves have been on edge, and he hasn't been able to do much of anything but sit there, twisting his hands, staring out the window into the frozen wasteland below and just worry.
The flag is tucked away somewhere safe for now, yes, but Liet knows he can't do much to hide himself, and Russia's already said that he's going to hurt him -- there'd been no pretenses.
It must mean that Russia is really angry, Lithuania thinks, and he shudders, again, sitting on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and just staring at the room beyond, not watching anything specific, but thinking.
He remembers, specifically, the time he stayed on a "sleepover" with Poland -- the man had somehow caught a glimpse of his back, and when Lithuania had stepped out of the bathroom, Poland had actually asked him what had happened. Lithuania had seized up, hadn't even known what to say...
That feeling from back then doesn't even compare to what Lithuania is feeling now. And even though Lithuania knows something is coming, he has to sit around and wait for it, and that is the worst of it, absolutely.
He stares at the door, waiting for it to open, willing himself to disappear. If Poland were here...
Lithuania almost laughs at himself. What could Poland really do? Anything? And even if he would, Lithuania could never ask him to take blows that Poland hadn't even earned.
This is his punishment. He has to take it. And that's all there is to it.
no subject
The bitter cold bites at his exposed face. It's nothing Russia isn't already accustomed to, but that doesn't mean he hates it any less. Even if he can't see him, he knows General Winter is there. He's always there when Russia's going into a downward spiral, for better or for worse. Usually for worse though, and tonight is no exception. Not even vodka is enough to warm his face or the ice he can feel squeezing at his heart. (Rage? Yes. Depression? Getting there. The realization that each step he takes towards Liet is just another it to his already unstable sanity? Definitely). He can't even see the moon, it's so dark.
That probably makes his entrance via breaking Liet's window and crawling through all the spookier. Good thing the smaller nation lives on the first floor. Jumping out of planes is more hassle than it's worth.
The shards of glass crunch under his boots as he stands upright, eyes as joyless and cold as the snow peer out through the shadows of his bangs. Of course, Russia doesn't forget his seemingly gentle smile.
"You waited for me!" His voice is strangely happy, perhaps genuinely so. "So you're not stupidly willful. Good, Liet."
no subject
"R-Russia!" he gasps, staring at the man, his heart pounding in his chest. He isn't fooled by the smile on Russia's face -- he knows what the man is there for. Russia feeling the need to break his window is proof enough of something being amiss.
Being told "good" like he's some kind of puppy is enough to make Lithuania feel almost ashamed. He grips his fingers in the sheets, staring down at the floor, a sick feeling in his stomach.
"I'm not stupid," he affirms, staring down at Russia's boots and the pieces of glass beneath them. After a moment, he added, "I know why you're here." He wanted to make a remark about the window not being able to fix itself, but he knew better.
no subject
"I'm here because you lied," he whispers. He crawls to kneel on the bed directly in front of Liet, hands on either side of the smaller nation. His face is so close to Liet's, the other nation would be able to smell the vodka on his breath and see the anger in Russia's eyes. "You held onto contraband, you deceived me, now you continue to hide it."
Without warning, his smile drops and he grabs Liet's throat--not quite tight enough to choke him, but with enough pressure make him acutely aware that Russia could choke him.
"Did the press ban not leave enough of an impression on you? Did the eradication of the 'Forest Brothers' not make you consider that going against me would be a very bad idea?"
He releases his hold on Liet's throat only to strike him in the ribcage with his pipe. Another blow to the shoulder, and Russia grabs a fistful of Lithuania's hair and pins the smaller nation to the bed with his body.
"You can't leave," he murmured in Liet's ear. If the Baltic cares to listen closely, he can hear the desperation shining through Russia's rage. His voice his shaking slightly as he grips Lithuania even tighter. "I won't let you leave me. I swear, things will get better! Y-you're still wealthy, you don't have the deaths I have, things will be even better for you! You just can't leave."
As Russia's lips brush against Liet's ear, he starts muttering under his breath. It sounds a bit like kolkolkolkolkol...
no subject
When Russia's fingers close over Lithuania's neck, he seizes up, his whole body going stiff, trying not to panic even though the sharp intake of breath is almost deafeningly loud. He remembers the press ban, remembers anything in his native tongue being ripped down and burned. He remembers the Forest Brothers, remembers huddling with the men in the underground bunkers, feeling the jump of nerves in his stomach as the men whispered plans and hopes and dreams. He remembers watching the men drop one by one, their blood soaking his ground, their deaths on his hands. How could he forget those things?
Russia's hurt him so many times.
No matter how many times Lithuania's felt the sharp blow of the pipe against his body, it's never made the next time hurt any less or help him prepare for it at all.
He screams, a sudden cry that's carried away, almost drowned out by an icy burst of wind that shrieks for him through the wind. He thinks he can feel his bones crack under Russia's force. His eyes close and he wishes he could wait for it to stop, but he knows he can't. Russia's whispering in his ear, far from sweet nothings, and Lithuania is vaguely aware of the fact that he's crying.
"Why," he gasps. "Why do you have to hurt me?"
no subject
"Because I have to make sure you'll stay." He grabs Lithuania by the shoulders, paying little mind to the one he'd struck, shoving the nation onto his back so that he can see Russia's face. The calm smile has melted away, revealing a frantic expression twisted by anger and maybe even sorrow.
"Because you lied to me, you lie to me about everything!" His voice is unnaturally loud and high, almost to the point of screeching. Glaring down at Lithuania with wild eyes shrouded in shadows, he picks up his pipe again, raising it above his head, aiming directly at Liet's head--
...and he drops it. It clatters harmlessly to the floor. Russia's hands are shaking. Tears tainted by pollution sting his eyes and start to leak down his cheeks. He grabs Liet again and starts shaking him violently.
"I just want everyone to be happy with me! They're all leaving or dying or suffering and I'm trying so hard to fix it, and I know you hate me! Latvia hates me and Estonia hates me, but as long as you fear me you'll stay with me and tell me that you like me!"
He stops shaking Liet and clutches his hands over his heart. "I have to hurt you, or you'll hurt me and then you'll leave me and I can't let that happen!"
no subject
He braces himself for the whiplash when Russia shakes him, mostly uselessly, his head lolling back and forth.
"I-- I don't--" he gasped, when everything finally stills, when Russia finally lets go and he falls back against the bed. "I don't hate you, Ivan," he says, quietly, and even though he knows using his other name that way is practically disrespecting him, he doesn't care. He clenches the sheets, staring up at Russia. "I just wish... I wish you really cared about me."
Lithuania's always suspected that really, Russia only wants Lithuania for the territory, for the thrill of power of owning someone so completely. Sometimes, he wishes he actually cared. He wishes Russia wanted him for him. The only person who really cares (cared?) is Poland. That much Lithuania is sure of.
no subject
"I wish I knew how, Toris. I really do. I thought I was..." A soft and sincere voice can't disguise the words he's speaking. He wishes he could tell Lithuania that he really does, that the land and power mean nothing to him. He wishes he could make Lithuania and his people happy. He wishes that his rules will work and his crops won't fail and everything will be right.
But he's had enough lies for the day.
"I care, Liet," which isn't far from the truth. "I care so much, I want you to be one with me."
Suddenly he draws a pistol from his belt and presses the barrel just below Liet's jaw. He once again pins the smaller nation down with his body, face only inches from Lithuania's. Russia is smiling and staring at him with curiosity false kindness.
"Give me proof that you care, Lithuania."
no subject
It's no shock when Russia says that he cares, that he wants Lithuania to be "one" with him. So he's said to everyone. Lithuania feels almost ridiculous -- he's the steady girlfriend trapped in an exclusive relationship without any of the perks. He's kept down and forced at Russia's side, but he doesn't feel any of the love. When Lithuania had been with Poland, together in a Commonwealth, he'd been at Poland's side like this -- but the relationship had been full of love and understanding, patience and caring. Poland had never hurt him like this. And freedom and independence had been nice, too. It had been good to be on his own, to find himself again, and then Russia had come out of nowhere and when he'd crushed Lithuania against his side at first Lithuania had expected the same relationship he'd known with Poland and then --
Before he can finish his thought, the cold barrel of the gun is pushing into his skin. Lithuania gasps, and he squeezes his eyes shut and he feels the world crashing down around him.
"Don't," he gasps. "Please, don't, don't, Russia, don't. I've always been by your side. I've always... stayed with you. Who was there when they... when they came to storm the Winter Palace... in 1905, I held you when you cried, after you... you shot them, remember, I did, and if you shoot me now you'll cry and there won't be anyone to hold you." He swallows, hard, not daring to look at Russia, not daring to do anything.
no subject
whenif Liet ever gains independence."I remember," he murmurs. He cocks the gun back, pushing it harder against Liet's throat, and he begins stroking his hair. "You have such a big heart, Liet. It can be an annoyance, but it's something I love about you. I can't lose you."
Russia leans in, brushing the tears from the smaller nation's eyes as he kisses him. Russia's always admired how Industrialization hasn't tainted Lithuania the way it's tainted him. Chapped lips, dried cropland, it's all the same. He's being being gentle; the other hand moves to stroke Liet's face.
He pulls away. He keeps smiling. "I would never kill you, Lithuania, I need you. There's no reason to so afraid of me."
And then he pulls the gun away and presses it against his own temple. Russia is still smiling softly. "But would you cry if I died?"
He doesn't give Liet the chance to answer. He pulls the trigger.
Click.
It was never loaded in the first place.
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ifwhen Russia pulls the trigger, eventually Lithuania will wake up and have to face him and all of this again. Russia's hand in his hair or lips on his skin doesn't do much of anything to soothe the way those actions are usually intended to do.And even when Russia pulls back and says he won't kill him, Lithuania is so certain his life is going to end very shortly. Or does he wish that it would? He thinks of the time Poland had found him, beaten up and dumped off by Russia, and Poland had just laughed at how "lame" or "uncool" it was that Liet had let Russia hurt him that way, and all Liet had wanted was to disappear. Could a nation really die? He isn't sure, but...
But it doesn't stop him from screaming the moment Russia's finger begins to compress the trigger, a loud "No!" that breaks off a little too soon when he realizes the gun does nothing but click, empty.
For a moment, his eyes are wide, his mouth agape, and then he starts crying -- a choked sob that results in Lithuania covering his face in his hands, blocking Russia's face out, blocking everything out and just breaking down.
no subject
Good.
He laughs, airy and light-hearted, and he pats Lithuania on the head. It's as though he doesn't notice Liet's crying, acting like he doesn't acknowledge anything that has just happened. Russia climbs off him. He stuffs his gun back in his belt, picks up his pipe, and stands right next to where Liet has curled in on himself.
"I will be sure to get you a new flag tomorrow," he says, staring down at the smaller nation. "It'll be even better than your old one!"
He had considered ensuring that the flag would be destroyed along with what little national pride Lithuania had. But that could wait until another day. Besides, it was never the physical object that mattered so much to him anyway. After all, extinguishing a flame of hope--for freedom, for rebellion, for anything but a future forever beside Russia--is a bit more difficult than pouring all of his vodka across the floors, letting a smoking ember fall, and watching the world burn.
Russia had practice in both of these areas.
He sits down beside Liet, staring at him with the same deceptively kind smile that, if seen through teary eyes, is always warped to what it truly is. "Would you like something to drink, Lithuania?"
no subject
For a moment, he pictures himself reaching a hand up and smacking Russia across the face. He wants to hurt Russia, because Russia has hurt him. He wants Russia to know that it's not okay for him to stomp on his feelings. Furthermore, he wants to hurt Russia for ever existing, for ever being available to be someone that could hurt Lithuania in such a way.
He pictures it so vividly that he can almost see his arm raising, sudden, quick, so fast that the other nation won't even know what's coming. He can almost feel the sting of skin against skin, feel the tingle of pain of the aftermath across his palm and fingers.
He's picturing it so vividly, in fact, that it takes Lithuania full seconds to realize that he's already done it.
no subject
The slap didn't hurt too badly. The sound of the blow, however, echoed across the room as loud as a gunshot, and it hurt his ears a little.
Russia's smile slipped away.
By some grace of God, the powerful nation didn't react with a harsher blow. His shock and befuddlement outweighed his wrath just enough (for the moment) that he only gave Lithuania a bland look.
"That doesn't answer my question."
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Realizing just what's in store for him now that he's lashed out in such a way, Lithuania's eyes tear up again -- this time in fear rather than worry or compassion. For a moment, he thinks about apologizing profusely -- over and over again, whimpering, begging for Russia to disregard his last action.
But he knows it won't change anything. The only thing that will do is surrender Lithuania's pride.
For now, he tries to meet Russia's gaze as best he can, ignoring the tears, and murmurs, "I don't want anything to drink, Russia."
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He pats Lithuania's head as if he were gently scolding a small child. Russia doesn't stop to think about how demeaning his actions are. By now the sweet, belittling gestures are completely natural to him; whether he realizes just how degrading it is to Lithuania to be treated in such a way or not, the fact remains that he sees nothing wrong with what he's doing.
He hardly sees anything he does as wrong anymore.
Russia will ponder on Lithuania's punishment for lashing out later. In the mean time, the most excruciating torture he can think of is making the Baltic State wait, never knowing when he'll be reprimanded. When his security drops just a hair, when Lithuania begins to wonder if he'll ever be punished, Russia will be there, all smiles and cold, biting rage.
Maybe he'll use the whip again. That method seems to have a lasting effect. Oh sure, Liet may cry again, but it will all before Lithuania's own good in the end.
At the moment, Russia merely continues to smile. He stands and offers a hand to Lithuania.
"Your bruises are beginning to blossom. Come, let's get you cleaned up and put some ice on them."
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The belittling and demeaning hardly even phases Lithuania anymore. The last thing he's really going to stress out about is a pat on the head. It could be a lot worse.
Staring at the hand offered to him, Lithuania sniffs back a small amount of tears, just for a moment, and slowly takes it. He knows there's no other choice, but he can't help but shiver when he hand, rather warm considering his body temperature rising from the pounding of his heart, wraps around Russia's fingers -- like gripping ice.
He stares up at Russia, slowly, using the man's hand as leverage to rise off the bed. The pain -- especially in his ribs, where the pipe had connected very, very sharply -- was almost unbearable, and when Lithuania sucks in a breath, he cries out in pain, almost sinking to his knees on the floor. He wraps his free arm around his stomach, eyes squeezing shut, and tries to, for a moment, take himself away from the pain by thinking of something -- anything that's not this, here.
The first thing that pops into his mind is Poland, sitting in the rye fields, talking about dying the crops pink.
Without even thinking, Lithuania lets out a small, choked laugh.
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It may not be the ideal situation, but it works, and he's truly doing Lithuania a service by not allowing him to leave. Really.
The laugh isn't what Russia expected. His expression flickers for a moment, flashing to a startled sort of confusion, a kid who watches his tormented dog wag its tail. Then the smile returns to his face, brighter than ever and strangely earnest. Lithuania's laugh is almost identical to the ones Russia had before 1905, where the abuse from other nations began to unravel him, where the Crimean War and his constant losses to Sweden and the Commonwealth had started to unhinge the carefully placed screws in Russia's mind.
He wonders if Lithuania is unraveling. He wonders if it would be better if he truly is. Russia certainly wouldn't mind the company in his insanity.
He laughs with Liet, staring at the smaller nation with fondness and maybe a bit of triumphant madness. "I love hearing you laugh, especially after our time together! Such a rare thing to hear from you."
To his credit, Russia tries to be gentle as he leads Lithuania towards the bathroom. He doesn't slow his normal pace and more or less drags the Baltic towards it, but he's sure to hold Liet's hand the entire way and to coax him with small, reassuring phrases like Come, come, you will be okay, you don't need to be afraid and I will fix you, Lithuania, just like I am fixing the world.
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He sees Russia's expression falter for just a moment and feels his heart leap. It's a small victory, but he made Russia's smile disappear, even if it was only for a second, even if it didn't really mean anything.
When Russia laughs with him, that momentary glee disappears and Lithuania's face goes white. So Russia loves to hear him laugh, huh? He frowns, thinking about the times he would spend with his Baltic brothers, how he would try to lift their spirits while Russia set them to work by making conversation -- how one day, Latvia had done something stupid but cute, and Lithuania had laughed, and soon they had both been laughing, and Estonia looked like he wanted to, he'd almost smiled, but then...
The memory cuts off there, Lithuania doesn't want to remember any more, he's suddenly reminded of the blow against his shoulder, his ribs, the way the pain explodes when aggravated -- he cries out again as Russia moves him, not unwilling but not exactly helping. When they move into the small attached bathroom, Lithuania slumps against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, breathing, trying to think of times Russia's hurt him worse than this, trying to convince himself he got let off easy.
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Though he has absolutely no qualms with abusing the Baltic--truthfully, he even enjoys it at times on some sick level--it's hardly good conduct to leave a valuable ally in such disarray. Russia sets his pipe aside to shuffle around in the medicine cabinet. When he finds what he needs, he grabs Lithuania by the armpits, hoisting him in the air as if he weighed nothing, and sets him not-to-gently onto the toilet seat.
He doesn't even ask before he starts unbuttoning Lithuania's shirt. In Russia's mind, he doesn't need to.
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Does there always have to be an internal struggle inside him, over one thing or another? Why can't Lithuania be firm on anything, especially on anything involving Russia...?
It's when Russia starts to take his clothes off that Lithuania finally snaps out of his momentary stupor.
"Wh-what are you doing?" he asks. His voice is quiet, but the note of panic is still there, quite audible.
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As he continues unbuttoning the shirt, he starts humming--some tuneless, mellow folk song. Anyone watching wouldn't be wrong to guess that Russia is thoroughly enjoying himself. Now that Lithuania's little rebellion has been smothered and he's back in his proper place, Russia has the chance to fix him up again. The fact that he'd been the one to cause the wounds in the first place makes very little difference to him. The only way the situation could be better is if Lithuania had come running to him for help! Whispering apologizes, kneeling in front of Russia, begging for the larger nation to forgive him for his grievous errors, teary eyes filled with hope that Russia will save him...
Perhaps another day.
The last button is unfastened, and Russia wastes no time removing it. He tugs at Lithuania's tie roughly, removing it with little grace, then unbuttoning the white undershirt. No blood stains, but Russia's a little excited to see just how severe the bruises are. One the final layer is remove, he's far from disappointed. Terrible blue and yellow bruises have already blossomed where Russia's pipe had stricken Lithuania, discolored and undoubtedly painful.
Still, it's far from the worst he's ever done. Bruises fade, bones mend. Lashes last a lifetime.