Russia

[ Somewhere, in the darkest corner of reality that even your nightmares are too afraid to go near, Russia waited. Now the void where his heart should be is filled with the purest sort of romance:

Fiery hatred for all things capitalist and/or American born from paranoia and a vague inferiority complex.

Since the physical embodiment of his kismesis is nowhere near, Russia will just have to express his blackrom towards his rival's citizens. Or really anyone who strikes him as American. Or British. Or resisting the glory of the state. ...Basically everyone.

Instead of flowers, though, Russia has a new present. Is the current view that of Kurt's room? Who knows. It could be yours. But while the occupant is soundly sleeping (or not, he's not really picky), a few thumps can be heard under the bed.

It is the sound of Russia placing a shark under there.

As though a marionette on wires, he jerkily crawls out of the darkness and rises to his feet. All Homestuckers can imagine an even more horrifying version of little Cal staring down at the occupant here.

There is silence.

And then.

There is Terezi. ]

SHAAAARK WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK

[ The pair then proceed to hop out the window, Terezi on her jet pack and Russia without one because fuck it HE JUMPS OUT OF PLANES. This series of events will be repeated as the country traverses the halls in his quest to fill the emptiness where a black feelings for America should be. The other quadrants don't have as many sharks and therefore are not as high on his priority list.

NONE OF YOU ARE SAFE. ]

[ For a moment, there's only the sound of someone fiddling with a found terminal. A few may recognize the childish voice with the heavy Russian accent muttering to himself and humming happily in interest. ]

Hmmmm! Is this...

[ He cautiously (and audibly) presses a few keys that do absolutely nothing. Still, whoever is doing this seems pretty enthralled with the device. ]

Ah! Says it is "recording." Am I to leave a prerecorded message? Hello!

[ --and welcome to your nightmare-- ]

It seems like a dreamworld, this place! Perhaps it is. Would be only logical, especially considering I have yet to hear a certain country's grating voice! A small relief I have been afforded. At least for now. Too long without and I will begin to miss that undercurrent of fear. The uncertainty of annihilation is much more unnerving than simply not knowing where you are.

And then it comes to that, for any others that may hear this. I have no memories of getting here. The blankness in my head and the uncertainty of my circumstances are indeed troubling!

[ He only sounds vaguely unnerved. Mostly curious. ]

But, should one of my friends here this--Lithuania? East?--please come inside the large palace. I have yet to explore, but I'm sure I will find you! You know I always do.

[ Russia laughs lightly to himself before continuing to press buttons. ALSO NOTING sorry if I'm slow, last week of classes before finals @_@ ]

[NEWLY AWOKEN FROM BEING DEAD (and still dripping wet) is Russia.

Russia is depress.

Russia is also a teenage country thing from the 17th century. He is now behind the wheel of a '91 Aerostar van with the Tsardom coat of arms painted messily on the side. He does not know what he's doing behind the wheel of this metal dragon, nor does he know how to drive it. All that matters it that this is Korean Drama and shit's going down.

The car is already own. Mostly by chance, he figures out that stomping down on a certain "scale" causes it to go forward and that turning the circle in front of him changes direction. WHAT IS THIS WITCHCRAFT. He has no clue what he's doing and excitement gives way to terror once he realizes he doesn't know how to stop.

Have a nice view of Russia speeding down the hall.

Now, he sees Lithuania up ahead. This is a moral dilemma: keep going, or run him over like a vengeful member of the cavalry? It helps that he has no idea how to stop. So BAM. Lithuania is hit at about 50 mph.

Russia still doesn't know how to stop. Instead, there is a long, long time while he waits for the car to slow on its own. Eventually he gets out and doubles back to Lithuania.]

Lithuania! Lithuania, you are--! Speak to me!

[Russia starts sobbing and cradles the other country's head. Okay, so he kinda has mixed feelings about Lithuania dying, but HOLY SHIT HE JUST RAN SOMEONE OVER WITH A METAL DRAGON AFTER COMING BACK FROM THE DEAD. WHAT IS HIS LIFE.]

What... happened... Muskovy... [looking up at him, smiling faintly, trying to comfort.] ...it's not your fault. I'm sorry. It...it might be better this way, Poland doesn't need me anymore. And now he can be happy without having to worry [breathing is obviously very hard for him] about me.

DON'T DIE! PLEASE DON'T DIE! I DO NOT WANT TO SING ANYMORE!

[Russia has his hysterics prioritized, obvs.]

[Get a mild smile (because there is no way that Lithuania would hear this fourth wall breaking) and then the brunet's eyes flutter shut and he goes perfectly still.]

LITHUANIAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

[END SCENE. so much drama]

[Russia is tapping keys on the keyboard in a futile effort to know wtf they're for. He's somehow managed to hit the right button, but it takes him another minute of staring at the screen and looking around to make sure the recording light is on to actually recognize that the crazy magic box is transmitting his image to other people. With *~magic~*]

I think... I am doing this correctly? And most here speak English, da?

[Russia pauses. He's dressed the same as he was when you last saw him, minus the hat.]

I have done little else but sleep this week. Every day I opened my eyes and thought I would wake up in my own bed. Each time I only saw the ceiling to this room.

...There is hot water that flows from metallic pipes! It doesn't even need to be drawn from a well! There is much magic about this place. The food replenishes itself inside a cold box downstairs. It's been so long since I have not been hungry--

Is there a market? I am low on weaponry and I have no horse. I can't be left vulnerable. This knife will not protect me from cannons and spears. I do not have much, but I hope it will be enough to trade for armor.

...A map would also be helpful. As would assistance using... these. Magical boxes.

This world has a strange affinity for making me a woman. I may be the "motherland", but I don't have gender confusion. How strange...

Latvia, I'd like to go downstairs now. I would like a little assistance right now.

[Russia's hands are neatly folded in his lap (which, by the way, is covered in a worn blanket) as he sits in front of the camera. Yes, he does indeed have his creepy smile and cheerful voice, why do you ask?]

It is always so annoying recovering from gruesome injuries. Not the pain so much as the idleness recovery requires. I am only glad I heal quickly! At least I was not so bored when I had to drag myself and my immobilized legs to the vendors to purchase a wheelchair.

Down nine stories.

Bleeding.

Through the snow.

Thanks, America.

[FUCKING CREEPY VOICE WHY. Russia smiles wider. He's pretty fucking pissed right now.]

Thankfully, Latvia has so kindly volunteered to assist me while my knees heal! Latvia, I would like some food right now.

[Hooray for Belarus and her nose-healing powers! Russia's nose has gauze wrapped all around it, but at least he's in a clean coat and not the bloody mess he had not too long ago. He sighs at the camera, looking a little dejected.]

I did not have a good sleep. My chest ached too much. America broke my heart!

[From his coat, Russia draws a bottle of vodka... with his heart in it. Look closely and you'll see the giant gaping bullet hole America put through it. Who knows how he actually fit the heart in the bottle.]

It's so troublesome to heal. It will surely be soaking for days before I can put it back where it belongs.

[He sighs again and puts the bottle back in his coat. Russia turns toward the window, a smile once again on his face. Unlike his usual ones though, this one seems genuinely happy. Not too much creepiness in it other than the fact it's on Russia's face.]

I have never seen so many stars so closely. If only Gagarin were here to see this with me.

[A pause, and oh god the creepiness is back in his smile.]

And is that a distant planet I see? Mars, maybe? It is only fair that, since America has so carelessly hurt my heart, that the first steps on the moon belong to the Soviet Union. A red planet for the Red Army! I can't wait!

[So. Days later, guess who decides to appear?

Russia's hair is wet and skin pink from being rubbed raw, especially on his forehead, and his violet eyes are clear once again. Obviously he's been showering a lot. As in, non-stop since the event. Not much can disturb him, but really? Being turned into a zombie is some scary shit, even for the Soviet Union. His voice is steady and upbeat, his face is fixed into his normal placid expression, but look closely. You'll see that his eyes are wide, his gesturing a little more quick and erratic than usual. Behold Russia barely disguising a madness brought on by paranoia and panic.]

Ah... excuse my absence. My mind's been occupied lately. I always knew that their were fates worse than death, but never did I consider... that. I would consider that worse than awaking in a mass grave.

[Unconsciously, he rubs his forehead. Russia catches himself and quickly lowers his arm back to his side.]

...I wasn't in control of my actions. You do realize that, right Germany? I did not purposefully make your brother disappear. Simply because I am capable of killing you two does not mean I would. Your brother is in my Pact. I am not so fond of his boss, but he is invaluable to me.

[Suddenly he stops and dives for something on the floor. He knocks the camera to the side, and you can see him clutching a sock. It looks clean enough, except for the hell being covered in blood. Russia laughs, nervous and utterly cracked.]

I've forgotten this! I'd thought I'd cleaned it all off but it looks like the blood stubbornly refuses to leave me be. It keeps coming back, here and there. I've burned that coat and scrubbed my washroom with bleach and cut every speck from the carpets and it still finds its way to me.

[Russia's not even paying any attention the camera anymore. He grabs the sock, muttering to himself in incoherent Russian as he paces around the room. He moves to the window, maybe to throw the sock out. But no. He rummages in a drawer for matches, maybe to burn it. There's none to be found. He starts muttering more loudly; if you speak Russian, you might hear the words "East", "West", and "it wasn't murder". Eventually he stops and stuffs the sock in his pocket.]

Maybe I will return it to them. They will know that it's not my fault. I am not destroying evidence of a crime. It was the world. It killed me and that is why I killed them. I had no control, and they should not have fought. I'll return their blood to them and all will be right. Maybe...

[He stops pacing. After a pause, he turns toward the bathroom again. He's still muttering to himself when the door slams.

Oh, and this is all in America's oval office-y room. Best roomie EVER.]

[Russia's voice is as pleasant as ever, but... there is a hint of strain behind it. Almost like he's actively trying to keep his voice cheerful. None should ever take that as a good sign.]

So many disappearances. None that I actively sanctioned.

But it is so good that people are so kind to new arrivals! Sheltering them, even when there are plenty of rooms to go around. Especially my sister.

[Russia's voice drops to the SCARIEST FUCKING RASP OF YOUR GODDAMN LIFE. NO REALLY. LISTEN TO THIS DEMONIC KOLKOLKOL SHIT.]

Especially my sister.

[He just leaves it at that. Brb bugging Belarus/Tony's room.]