You surprise me with just how perfect you are

[buyan]

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.

Comments

[czarist]

He's a soldier, a dog of war and it shows in his stride, in the span of his shoulders and the curve of his back. Russia bears his uniform with pride, with disdain, with all the complexity of a nation at war. But despite it all he glances over and catches those too familiar eyes with his own, blinks and hums under his breath as he thinks.

"No." Because though he's curious, there's a bit of a cheapening to being told the future by himself. So he tips his head, doesn't break the eye contact as he queries, "Would you have told?"

He tries to think if he would have, would have gathered a younger him in his arms and told tales of the glory of the Russian empire, of the splendor, the distress running beneath the surface. So no, the answer is probably not any different.

But Russia does not see the prophecy in Russia's thoughts, doesn't see the sleek figure he can form in another's eyes. There's change bubbling in Russia's veins, height and strength and age settling slow over his features as the years drag on and the war and revolution builds and crests.

[licensetokol]

"Ah, who can say now?" Russia shrugs to himself - literally, he supposes, which is sort of funny in and of itself - clasping his hands lightly behind his back as they walk shoulder to shoulder. He wonders if they look like brothers, the two of them, or if his people even see two individuals at all. They move in such strange orbits, creatures of their particular pedigree, and like heavenly bodies their observed motion does not always intuitively match their true paths.

"It is nice, seeing you," he admits after a moment, nodding slightly. "I am not even here on purpose. It would be only more troublesome if I displaced you on accident."

[czarist]

There's a soft sort of agreeing noise here, something that speaks more that he is listening and agrees the moment has passed than that he agrees upon the thought behind it itself. Which is a bit silly of him, truly. But aside from a faint notion, Russia doesn't think about how they must look to their people or if the citizens even see two of them. He has other things to worry about, not some extraneous idle thoughts.

Which means he slants his gaze over to Russia once he speaks again, tips his head in a short nod, noses faintly into the warm comfort of his scarf and inhales.

"Would that I say the same, but I must admit that I'm still rather confused." There's a huff of laughter, muffled as it is and Russia tips his head to better look at his companion, quickly gives him a once over and notes the differences even in the dark as they are. "How is it you are here?"

[licensetokol]

"Anglija is very funny to drink with. But he is troublesome, also." It is the entire story in two simple sentences, two truisms he knows they can both agree to. England can be pleasing in deeper and more profound ways, certainly - Russia knows how well the little island is not human, how he loves to wear the face and adopt the gestures, to act like the ones who do not know what it is to feel a heart burn to brittle char again and again. But he has felt it, and he is a creature, an ageless and canny creature that even in this time lifts his defiant chin to Germany as he lifted it to Rome.

He is also a drunk, and therefore amusing, but not without his dangers. Russia is still a little chagrined that he forgot that second part so easily.

"Maybe I will be here a long time. Maybe I will be gone tomorrow. I do not know." He shrugs lightly, smiling for his younger counterpart.

[czarist]

"Ah." He nods here, because yes he can understand exactly what that simple statement can fully mean. England has always proved himself a welcome distraction, even if he is at times a dangerous one. But since when have they balked in the face of a little danger?

"Is he here too then?" In Russia, he means. Though in general might be an answer he easily accepts as well. More so, he assumes his double would have found way to track down his England already if given the time. But time, is a thing that seems to be tricky in this case, and Russia glances over, worries at his lip idly (A habit he tried to break but fell back on when least wanted) and feels laughter bubble up in the back of his throat, "Is that not always the case?"

[licensetokol]

"Maybe. Either way, he will find me," he replied with placid certainty, nodding a little to himself. He has worked with and against England enough to know that his error will send him into a flurry of determination to fix it, all stern intention and sit-down-before-you-hurt-yourself. So Ivan had determined to remain in the place where England would find him most easily.

He watches his double, eyes flitting to the contrast of teeth against lip, the sight briefly transfixing. He does look younger when he does that, unsure and softer-edged, and he smiles with the noise of mirth he's given, bowing his head in silent agreement and giving a silent laugh of his own. "Yes, yes. Some things are not so different."

[czarist]

As soon as he catches himself staring, and realizes just why, there's a flush and a stuttered cough. He'll have to remember that habit more often, and how it wasn't quite as broken as he'd like. But there's more pressing matters that the youth his face shines with when he's caught nibbling at his lip, so Russia presses on, "Have you a place to stay?"

His head tilts to the side, gaze somewhat blank and steady as he waits for the reply. Surely his other self has already secured a place to stay, he has trust in them to be able to achieve that much. But it serves a greater purpose. He wants to know where he is, wants to keep an eye out and watch how this other him moves and reacts to their life and the citizens around them. This is as much a test as all previous comments then, and he's certain that Russia knows full well that it is.

[licensetokol]

"There is always a place to stay, when you know where to look. Even if that place is not so luxurious." Russia cocks his head, and there's a hint of teasing in his manner, the tilt of his head as he indicates a direction vaguely southeast. The reminder of the other's youth invites a little light predation, something he's sure both of them understand without any elaboration.

"Would you like to visit, maybe?" Teasing or not, the invitation is sincere. "There is coffee and tea, at least."

[czarist]

"Luxurious is not always wise," He murmurs, chuckles a bit in response to that teasing, because it's true. Luxury in this case would bring unwanted attention and certainly Russia would not want that.His gaze follow that little tilt, meander just so before settling on familiar purple eyes. He nods, just a bit.

"By your leave, then," A flash of a smile, like quicksilver in the dim light, and Russia waits for a direction other than faintly southeast to walk in.