☭ [ Приятных снов ] ☭
Gently fingertips glided against the warmed mahogany of the window sill-- a slow drag against the frame's ridges as soft violet eyes stared past the dim reflection of a tall young looking blond. How serene the outside looked past the frosted glass. A soft dark tapestry of navy clouds shrouding the sky above-- the white smoke from the chimney trailing out into that Russian sky. “Ahh... it's beginning to snow again--” he cooed, lifting his bare hand up to press those fingertips to the glass as his eyes took in the sight of those small white flakes that wafted down wards from that dark curtain. “It is a good thing you are inside-- Да?” the blond inquired, head turning just enough to glide those pale violet irises in the direction of a shadowed seated man near the fire. “It's nice and warm in here- much better than out there...” he murmured answering himself. He looked back over to the window one last time- eyes focusing on that darkened snow covered ground, “Such a mess...” he sighed lips dimming the smile to a empty stare.
But that only lasted half a moment before the soft smile returned and he turned his back to the window frame, and the splotches of red that dyed the snow in a single area near that window, half melting out of sight and mind. “This is why I brought you inside- GDR...” he spoke to the warm air, the only replies coming from the brittle log that sat crackling and popping, pulsating with breathing red embers against the black wrought iron in that fireplace. Heavy boots walked past a uprooted faucet connected to a single pipe, leaned up in a shadowy corner, dripping a liquid that was too dark to be considered water. Those steps brought the tall Russian across the warm, though a tad bare, looking den. He paused to stand before the chair the shadowed form was sitting in, the small fire in the hearth causing the shadows to crawl across the pale haired shorter person.
Hands weaved behind him, fingers entwining against the curve of his lower back, he tipped his whole body gently to one side, head cocking as well as he smiled to his sweet possession. “Ahh it is sad though, that you continue to behave in such naughty ways, my misbehaving GDR, I try to teach you but you never do listen-- ahh I do not enjoy having to scold you... but here we are again, Да?” The tall man straightened up, those calm soft eyes moving to the left as he reached over to the short wooden handle of a farm tool which hung from the brick mantle of the fireplace. He leaned down giving a worn sigh as he used the object to poke at the glowing embers, at this rate the fire would die soon enough, how troublesome. Not even vodka alone would be enough to keep him warm, even now he was still cold. Getting GDR back indoors had wasted the time to go out and get the wood...
Kneeling only partially, he watched those small embers flake away the black bits of feather light ash from the burning log. Without turning his eyes he spoke up again, “Scolding does not work, not on a man like you. I suppose you will have to fix this problem maah~? Prussia?” his smile deepened in utmost adoration as his eyes snuck a glance to the gagged bloodied uniformed Prussian who was in fact tied to that chair-- a string of rope to each wrist securing it to the corresponding arm-- ankles bound to the legs, a nice wrapped up package.
Fingers tightened about that wooden handle-- lifting the sickle free, it's edge a glow from that focused heat. He took the step twisting the farming tool within his fingers before he knelt a little-- tipping his head to get a good look at that semi-unconscious face that was tipped downwards. Blood matting that pretty messy pale blond hair. His free hand wove out, fingers digging into that bird's nest of hair and wrenched that skull upwards-- that terrifyingly calm gentle sweet smile holding true across the Russian's lips. “This is for your own good, my sweet little Prussia...You will thank me one day for putting so much effort into correcting your bad naughty ways” he assured before he lifted the tool up, fingers still holding that soft hair taut in his hand- a line of red drawing against the air before the inflamed tool was press against the visible flesh, Russia inhaled, sighed then curtly crouched down and literally stabbed the cutter into Prussia's inner thigh.
Blood immediately gushed forth from the new orifice, dying the navy uniformed pants a darkened violet. Braginski edged his face a little to the side to prevent the blood from blinding his sight and pressed on, severing into the bone. Being as strong as he was, a tower of a man-no a nation- using the burning metal farm tool he could manipulate the blade to sink deeper, severing tendons veins and muscle-- Russia closed a eye as a muffled screaming erupted from a now fully conscious Prussia- the Prussian's rosy colored eyes wide and glassy from the pain that was literally tearing into him. Russia smiled, well, he was always smiling. Lifting his free hand upwards he used it to the cup along one of those cheeks, fingers issuing a affectionate pet to the pale flesh till the heel of his palm brushed against the tightened fabric gag tied around that jaw to smother the sweet protests. “I will cut the bad out of you, GDR...” he cooed softly as if he were comforting a child who had woken from a nightmare, fingers caressing that face as the sharpened blade dug to separate the mass.
If Prussia kept running away, then he'd make it so he could not run anymore. It was as simple as that. He felt a sudden distinct contrast in hardness and caught the wood. Russia released the small sickle. Prussia has lost his wholeness, it seemed, but not yet: Russia scooped the damaged limb up below the knee, straightening to his tall form Russia compressed the sole of his boot partially upon Prussia's waist, and with a sudden yank-- he tore his leg from the uncut strings of meat abstracting it from complete separation. He stood there, the limb in his hand as he looked to it for a moment, blood squelching from the torn fissure.
"Ah-- I do not understand you and your Brother that well, GDR-- The smell of burning flesh isn't that nice...”.
He wakes-- not startled, it's a slow opening of the eyes as he stares up at the ceiling, "Mn..?" pushing up the man lofts his hand to his face, caging his lips behind his fingers as he stares aimlessly without really seeing.
Warning:Guro.
+Also, holy crap why did this become so long? OTL (ILU PRUSSIA)
But that only lasted half a moment before the soft smile returned and he turned his back to the window frame, and the splotches of red that dyed the snow in a single area near that window, half melting out of sight and mind. “This is why I brought you inside- GDR...” he spoke to the warm air, the only replies coming from the brittle log that sat crackling and popping, pulsating with breathing red embers against the black wrought iron in that fireplace. Heavy boots walked past a uprooted faucet connected to a single pipe, leaned up in a shadowy corner, dripping a liquid that was too dark to be considered water. Those steps brought the tall Russian across the warm, though a tad bare, looking den. He paused to stand before the chair the shadowed form was sitting in, the small fire in the hearth causing the shadows to crawl across the pale haired shorter person.
Hands weaved behind him, fingers entwining against the curve of his lower back, he tipped his whole body gently to one side, head cocking as well as he smiled to his sweet possession. “Ahh it is sad though, that you continue to behave in such naughty ways, my misbehaving GDR, I try to teach you but you never do listen-- ahh I do not enjoy having to scold you... but here we are again, Да?” The tall man straightened up, those calm soft eyes moving to the left as he reached over to the short wooden handle of a farm tool which hung from the brick mantle of the fireplace. He leaned down giving a worn sigh as he used the object to poke at the glowing embers, at this rate the fire would die soon enough, how troublesome. Not even vodka alone would be enough to keep him warm, even now he was still cold. Getting GDR back indoors had wasted the time to go out and get the wood...
Kneeling only partially, he watched those small embers flake away the black bits of feather light ash from the burning log. Without turning his eyes he spoke up again, “Scolding does not work, not on a man like you. I suppose you will have to fix this problem maah~? Prussia?” his smile deepened in utmost adoration as his eyes snuck a glance to the gagged bloodied uniformed Prussian who was in fact tied to that chair-- a string of rope to each wrist securing it to the corresponding arm-- ankles bound to the legs, a nice wrapped up package.
Fingers tightened about that wooden handle-- lifting the sickle free, it's edge a glow from that focused heat. He took the step twisting the farming tool within his fingers before he knelt a little-- tipping his head to get a good look at that semi-unconscious face that was tipped downwards. Blood matting that pretty messy pale blond hair. His free hand wove out, fingers digging into that bird's nest of hair and wrenched that skull upwards-- that terrifyingly calm gentle sweet smile holding true across the Russian's lips. “This is for your own good, my sweet little Prussia...You will thank me one day for putting so much effort into correcting your bad naughty ways” he assured before he lifted the tool up, fingers still holding that soft hair taut in his hand- a line of red drawing against the air before the inflamed tool was press against the visible flesh, Russia inhaled, sighed then curtly crouched down and literally stabbed the cutter into Prussia's inner thigh.
Blood immediately gushed forth from the new orifice, dying the navy uniformed pants a darkened violet. Braginski edged his face a little to the side to prevent the blood from blinding his sight and pressed on, severing into the bone. Being as strong as he was, a tower of a man-no a nation- using the burning metal farm tool he could manipulate the blade to sink deeper, severing tendons veins and muscle-- Russia closed a eye as a muffled screaming erupted from a now fully conscious Prussia- the Prussian's rosy colored eyes wide and glassy from the pain that was literally tearing into him. Russia smiled, well, he was always smiling. Lifting his free hand upwards he used it to the cup along one of those cheeks, fingers issuing a affectionate pet to the pale flesh till the heel of his palm brushed against the tightened fabric gag tied around that jaw to smother the sweet protests. “I will cut the bad out of you, GDR...” he cooed softly as if he were comforting a child who had woken from a nightmare, fingers caressing that face as the sharpened blade dug to separate the mass.
If Prussia kept running away, then he'd make it so he could not run anymore. It was as simple as that. He felt a sudden distinct contrast in hardness and caught the wood. Russia released the small sickle. Prussia has lost his wholeness, it seemed, but not yet: Russia scooped the damaged limb up below the knee, straightening to his tall form Russia compressed the sole of his boot partially upon Prussia's waist, and with a sudden yank-- he tore his leg from the uncut strings of meat abstracting it from complete separation. He stood there, the limb in his hand as he looked to it for a moment, blood squelching from the torn fissure.
"Ah-- I do not understand you and your Brother that well, GDR-- The smell of burning flesh isn't that nice...”.
He wakes-- not startled, it's a slow opening of the eyes as he stares up at the ceiling, "Mn..?" pushing up the man lofts his hand to his face, caging his lips behind his fingers as he stares aimlessly without really seeing.
Warning:Guro.
+Also, holy crap why did this become so long? OTL (ILU PRUSSIA)