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You surprise me with just how perfect you are
Russia has seen many things throughout his many centuries of life, has spent more than he'd like to count out at arms and knee deep in the swill of war. So this war? It is not a thing he thinks much of when it comes time to don the navy of his Infantry Officer's uniform; simply another war to march into, another battle to win, another time for him to become just another dog of the military. It was expected of a nation, expected of him, and Russia's good about that.
But he didn't expect the absolute failure of Tannenburg. Didn't expect Nikolai to call him back, didn't expect the rolling disquiet of the public he could feel murmuring under his skin and at the back of his mind to have such an effect upon the atmosphere of his House. There's a solemn edge to his shoulders even as his Royal children gather about, small hands in his own and smiles upon young faces. Russia could usually lose himself in their stories, but there's a chill upon his land and it's not just his Father's touch.
Because the thing is (and he's certain of this after months spent out on the bleary war front), Saint Petersburg is gloomy. It's bleary, bleak, miserable beyond that which words can express. It taints the air and has Russia's shoulders turning up about his ears as he steps through the dim streets. There's something coming, something he can feel in his veins and it's distressing. Death perhaps, the press of foreign armies at his border, he doesn't let himself think it's anything other but either way he's on edge and---all of a sudden when he blinks its as if he's staring in a mirror.
There's a long, silent moment because there...definitely wasn't a mirror in the middle of the street five seconds ago. Well. Okay then, just going to casually blink and turn around, clearly things were bad enough he was hallucinating.
But he didn't expect the absolute failure of Tannenburg. Didn't expect Nikolai to call him back, didn't expect the rolling disquiet of the public he could feel murmuring under his skin and at the back of his mind to have such an effect upon the atmosphere of his House. There's a solemn edge to his shoulders even as his Royal children gather about, small hands in his own and smiles upon young faces. Russia could usually lose himself in their stories, but there's a chill upon his land and it's not just his Father's touch.
Because the thing is (and he's certain of this after months spent out on the bleary war front), Saint Petersburg is gloomy. It's bleary, bleak, miserable beyond that which words can express. It taints the air and has Russia's shoulders turning up about his ears as he steps through the dim streets. There's something coming, something he can feel in his veins and it's distressing. Death perhaps, the press of foreign armies at his border, he doesn't let himself think it's anything other but either way he's on edge and---all of a sudden when he blinks its as if he's staring in a mirror.
There's a long, silent moment because there...definitely wasn't a mirror in the middle of the street five seconds ago. Well. Okay then, just going to casually blink and turn around, clearly things were bad enough he was hallucinating.