Hetalia (Invisible) {RusCan}

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by AssiduousGhost, Sep 7, 2014.

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  1. Matthew feels his cheeks flush as he walks through the snow. The small particles of ice crunch underneath his boots making him sink in the snow slightly deeper than the last step. He pulls himself onward and tries not the think about anything as the cold bites into him, despite the heavy layer of clothing that surrounded himself in he's still shivering to himself. He sighs and watches his breathe collect in front of him and dissipate from view as it ravels upward onto the skies. He smiles a bit despite himself and his eyes crinkle around the edges as he grins. He breathe coming out in soft pants and licks his dry lips. He makes a note to wear something like a scarf to cover his lips, as they are cold to the touch. He blinks and stands still, thoughts shifting in his head as he sniffles.

    He's almost close. He can tell by the way the atmosphere changes and the way the trees seem to be thinner and only seem to be clumped together in the distance. He inhales the clean air and the faint scent of pine and quickens his pace. He looks up and smiles slowly, eyes shifting left to right as he checks around. The cabin is small by his standards and abandoned by what he can tell. Anyone who dares to try and make it out here in the mountains in the winter time most likely leaves or dies by this time in the middle of it. There's nothing here for miles around and no one, but the passing deer or the occasional small bear that passes by in the dead of night. He thinks back to his own bear, left at his house with the promise of having food when he comes back and his demeanor lightens.

    He reaches the door by the time he's shivering in the cold and touches the handle. His gloves are frosty ad his fingers and numb. Any human would have frozen to death, but he's different. He can't die. He smiles a little smugly at that fact and scolds himself gently. he turns the handle slowly and steps in.
    #1 AssiduousGhost, Sep 7, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Sep 7, 2014
  2. Ivan buries his face deeper into his scarf as he steps into the winter evening. He stares at the snow falling, wishing he hadn't told the Baltics to take the weekend off, but honestly he hadn't expected them to leave so readily. They are his friends... but they seem different than most of the friends he sees. They don't smile or laugh, and the short one is always shaking. Actually, they seem to be friendlier around all the countries...except him? But that can't be true!

    He plunges into the snow, his boots crushing the drifts under his feet.

    "General Winter, you've been so hard at work!" he laughed to himself. His other good friend, though he hadn't seen the General since that last Christmas. Perhaps he was busy.
    Ivan began making his way up the mountain as he had so many times before. His special place... finding it had been wonderful! When he was little he would hide in the mountains to avoid the Teutonic Knights, and to think he had never noticed the little house there after so many years was laughable. It was nice to find a place to rest, and even though he hates feeling lonely, for some reason he has always felt less alone in this isolated cabin in the woods. So strange...

    It is a long walk for certain, but the abandoned cabin has a nice fireplace, warmer than the one at his home, and that is worth the walk. He wishes his land could be warm more often. His ears burn as the snow crunches beneath his boots. He pulls the scarf up higher, to cover his ears, but it won't rise high enough so he buries his face deeper. Perhaps he could ask Belarus to make him some earmuffs. She would be willing, though being near her would be difficult, she's so pushy.

    He sighs and moves forward towards his place in the mountains.
  3. It's that time in the evening that most people his age would be going out for a drink-he laughs because he looks so young-or hanging out with family under the Christmas lights or helping put up the tree. The smell of pine is everywhere and every time he breathes in the fresh, crisp air he feels as if he could give up being a country and move out here. But he knows he can't do that. He knows that he;'ll be even lonelier and want some company despite everyone ignoring him. He knows he can't give up his job-life-just because he feels tired. Both his people and his government need him....even if he feels like they want nothing to do with him. He glances backwards checking for anyone who might have followed him, especially Alfred or even his bear. Nothing catches his eye, but the startling whiteness of the snow and the faded images of trees in the background. Sighing in relief he smiles to crookedly and pushes his way in gently.

    The first thing that greets him is the Oder. It's the musty smell of old wood and the dry walls that surround it. The smell isn't to pleasant, he notes, but it doesn't drive him away. Small and cozy and just the right size it looks nothing like the ones on TV. The kind that has running water and electricity and a Jacuzzi in the back. No, it's more old fashioned than new. He guesses that it's probably what completes him to come here, just to get away from everything and everyone. There's an old chair in the corner that probably has dust and the small wooden table in the center. He can't forget the fireplace that lights up the entire room during the night when he sleeps. Or the comfort it brings him and the warmth that t gives.

    He closes the door behind him and stretches. Arms over his head and cracking the few muscles that actually want to crack. He breathes through his nose and slowly takes off his boots, he flinches when his toes touch the freezing icicles on the tip of them, and peels off his coat.
  4. Ivan doesn't much like the trees that surrounded the cabin, he always feels like someone is ready to jump out at him. He hates fighting, but he never gets along well with the other countries. They never seem to like him much, and he has tried to make them, but not everyone was as kind as the Baltics. He wishes they would come back soon. He always felt lonely without them. His world is much like this forest, still, cold...empty. But beautiful, he supposes, as he watches the crystal flakes of the sky tumble to the ground beneath him.

    He climbs higher up the mountain, to where the trees thin, where the cabin is, and finally he arrives. By then his gloves are stiff with cold, but he flexes his fingers to better grip the back door knob. It opens easily and he steps inside. The place smells so nice, like home to him. The wood is old and rotting a little at the edges, but it gives the place a nice touch. He walks softly, not wanting to disturb the house just yet. It feels so peaceful. His fingers trail the rough edges of wood as he makes his way up front, to where the fireplace is. He wants to warm up, his ears feel numb, and his fingers are burning from the cold. There were never enough layers in the world for General--he stopped, freezing in the doorway of the main room.

    A short, blond man is standing next to a snowy pair of boots, slowly removing his jacket. Is that..

    "America?" What is he doing here? America hates the cold, and he hates Russia even more. Was he planning a surprise attack? He still has his magic pipe, but he was really looking forward to a peaceful night in his little cabin. "What do you want?" he sighs. Why do countries hate him so much?
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