Gehen sie Weg

I don't hate you for it.

For what exactly? There’s a lot I’ve done that I thought you hated.

Sure. And there are a lot of things I have done to you, as well, but that is not what I wanted to talk about.

Scarring up my face, is what I meant, specifically.

I do not blame you for it.

Oh… That.

(The guilt is awkward and heavy in his chest, extinguishing any chance for actually eating dinner later)

Ah- … I didn’ mean it. I know it’s a lousy excuse, but those years were some of the worse of my entire life, ‘n’ I felt angry and tired and miserable and powerless, and above all, unfit to be called Germany ever again.

Ah was tryin’ to keep it together just to keep going, so I didn’t talk about how I was feeling, not that it mattered much to you anyways. You were angry enough for the both of us, but damn it you didn’t half let me forget about just how pissed off you were every time I walked through the front door…

Tch. I don’t want to stand here and say ‘maybe if you’d have cut me some slack it wouldn’t have happened’ or play the blame game with you. I’ve had over half a century to think about what I did and bottom line is there’s no excuse for what I did.

I’m a man now, and I’m old enough to know I did you wrong. So…. ‘M Sorry.

#rp #2p prussia #2p germany

(His hand moves to the back of his head, fingers tugging a little at the base of that ever-present ponytail with a bit of agitation. Why he thought this was a good idea, he’d never know--here he was getting exactly what he wanted, and he has no idea how he’s supposed to respond without sounding like a giant asshole.

Maybe that was his problem--he’d been so sure for so long that Lutz would throw this in his face that he had no idea how to respond now that he wasn’t.)

I could have cut you some slack. ...I could have cut you a lot of slack, your entire life. We both know that.

(We both know that, and yet here we are.)

It’s a curse. I think. Living like this, separate from human beings, feeling war like scars on our back and knives in our eyes. We try to emulate them. The way they live, the way they treat family and friends, but. The things we go through are so much... (He gestures with a hand, the train of thought mostly cut off due to losing grip of what he was trying to say, remembering all too clearly the image of himself shouting, shouting and ranting at the younger nation about the end of the war, about things that were far out of both of their control... He shakes his head, letting his hand drop.)

I forgive you for it. ‘Better late than never’, or something like that.

...Christmas is coming up. And I’d like it if we could spend it together this year.

I don't hate you for it.

For what exactly? There’s a lot I’ve done that I thought you hated.

#HELLO BEAUTIFUL blows kisses #rp

Sure. And there are a lot of things I have done to you, as well, but that is not what I wanted to talk about.

Scarring up my face, is what I meant, specifically.

I do not blame you for it.

....A bit late, but Merry Christmas, all the same. I have a gift for you, if you want it.

Well this is unexpected. *About as unexpected as Lutz’s scrubbed up appearance and sharp manly cologne instead of the usual stale sweat. Still he’s guarded around the older brother, but calmer than he used to be. Dating Francis has been good for him* You didn’t have to bother you know.

*Lutz looked considerate, leaning heavily against the doorframe. There was a time when Altmann only had to say ‘Jump!’ and he’d squeak nervously ‘H-how high?’ only to receive a scolding for not sounding confident enough. Then years later things changed, to the point that the next thing Altmann said ‘Jump!’ he got a glass bottle to the face for his troubles and the rebellious response of an furious, exhausted teenager with all the charm of a rabid dog: ‘No! You Jump! Off a fucking bridge for all I care!’ This time… Things would be different. Civil. Tolerant.*

… You might as well give it to me inside. S’cold out here. You can say ‘Hey’ to Franny- ah mean Francis while y’here. He hasn’t seen you for ages.

*he stands to one side to let his brother inside his Berlin apartment that for once is reasonably tidy aside from the full ashtray in the window sill and two empty glasses beside a large bottle of French wine on the living room table.*

#2p germany #2p prussia #response

-As if he could really ever forget the first time Lutz had refused to 'Jump' for him. It was still a memory clearly etched on his face, across the bridge of his nose and his right eye. He didn't remember, exactly, how the change had come over in the other, the gut and raw determination to rebel against the older Germanic male, but.

...Perhaps it had been for the best, in many ways. As much as it rotted Altmann's very guts, every time he looked in the mirror to see those lines across his face. He'd come here, today, expecting the same treatment. To be turned away, despite his attempt--his first attempt in years to be civil--and yet... Did Lutz really just invite him inside?

He nearly does a double take.-

...Aa. Francis... is he living here, now? -As if he didn't know about the pair's relationship, but. ...He'd never gotten the gut up to ask about it. ...Being invited inside... how strange. How... awkward. He'll step inside as he was invited, a hand drawing through messy, unkempt locks as he grips the bag in his hand just a little tighter.- ...It's going to snow later tonight, too. So get your shovel out of hiding.

....A bit late, but Merry Christmas, all the same. I have a gift for you, if you want it.

#rp #2p germany #response #(//waves at ouo)#(//I missed ya.)

....

-He's going to take a moment to stare at the other, his expression clearly curious, but he won't question it. If his brother is taking a turn for the better, surely bringing attention to it won't help. After all, since when did Lutz ever take Altmann's advice?-

I know I didn't have to. It's nothing huge, either. You're welcome to turn it down, in any case.

romaniankingdom

Is this a wig? [Touches anyway.]

[Going to carefully brush the other's hand away with his own]

No, this is my natural hair. Wigs are itchy things, I would not be caught dead in one.

#romanian kingdom

romaniankingdom

It’s rather saddening how true that i—…. Your hair is gray.

And you have red eyes.

[GRABBY HANDS.]

[Backpedals from those grabbyhands like a motherfucker whoa there]

Yes, those are keen observations--please don't touch me.

#romaniankingdom

romaniankingdom

Tell me at least two countries in Europe that don’t dislike eachother.

#Europe is like a big pile of children who can't get along #and they want each other's things #but can't have them

You'd have an easier time finding an Englishman with something good to say about America.

“Nah, he was quiet as a mouse while I slept. Either that or I was dead to the world.” With another shrug, he had to chuckle. It was obvious humour was not this man’s strong point. It was almost cute, the way he was trying though. Gilbert was almost flattered. He had a feeling Altmann didn’t try humor with everyone.

“Coffee sounds great,” he admitted. It always took him a bit to wake up, and coffee definitely helped speed up the process. Despite not being a fan of the taste, he choked it down so that he could wake up.

Following the other into the kitchen, he blinked his eyes, wiping away remnants of sleep. He wasn’t quite sure what to say to this man, though the silence was comfortable as well.

#immer-preussischblau #Mirrorworld AU

He really wasn't one for joking. Dry wit and sarcasm was where his humor lay, and most of the time that didn't much of a chuckle out of anyone. Unless you were one of his friends, such as Santiago or Francis. Both of which he was still considering contacting, but not quite yet. He didn't feel like being laughed at by his two best friends when he said there was a man from another world in his house. They'd both tell him to go to bed, he was hallucinating again.

Leading the other into the kitchen, it wasn't long before he placed a cup of black coffee along with a small pitcher of cream in front of the man, a small bowl of sugar already sitting in the middle of the table. "I was speaking to one of my friends about you," he started to speak, breaking the comfortable, but somewhat uncomfortable silence. "He thinks I am crazy, thank you, however, he is being rather pushy about paying a visit just to see if it's scientifically possible for a man like you to exist."

He spoke mostly back-on, as he pulled out ingredients and cooking pots and pans, both sleeves rolled up nearly to his upper arms, the entirety of that one metal arm in full view.

Shaking his head, Gilbert shrugged. “Nah, bed was perfectly comfortable. Better than mine at home.” His was flattened from years of use. He really should get a new one, he thought. Especially if their positions were ever reversed and Altmann was in need of somewhere to crash.

With a shrug, he grinned at the other. “I’m pretty okay with anything, though spaetzle with cheese and bacon sounds really fucking good.” And fattening, he laughed to himself, not that he really cared. He was dangerously underweight as it was. Mostly his fault, since he often forgot to eat. “Then again, so does toast.”

#immer-preussischblau #Mirrorworld AU

He was slightly relieved to hear that, and he nodded. "I hope my bird did not disturb you. He tends to be a little iffy around strangers, though he and your little one seemed to become fast friends." he noted, as Gilbert's little bird was no-where to be seen. Likely still upstairs with the black avian creature, sleeping.

"I have no issue cooking spaetzle. It looks like you could use something that can stick to those bones of yours." He said this in a very plain voice, but it was possible that the man was making attempt at humor--though clearly unused to the proper tone needed. "We can speak while I cook, if you would like. If you are quite awake, that is. I have coffee, in the kitchen as well, if you would fancy a cup while I make your breakfast."

Though egg noodles with cheese and bacon wasn't really 'Breakfast'.

The snow-haired man awoke just an hour later to the grumbling of his stomach. The tightness in his belly made him sick, as if it was trying to eat itself, or turn itself inside out. With a groan, he threw the covers off himself and trudged downstairs. It appeared that the sun was beginning to rise. Rubbing his eyes, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs to stretch before entering the kitchen, where he found Altmann pacing.

“Ah, sorry I slept so long. Didn’t mean to fall comatose,” he murmured, eyes following the man’s every movement. It was as if the man was anticipating something. Before he could speak again, his stomach gave a loud, thunderous rumble, and he frowned down at the floor.

“Don’t suppose I could take you up on your offer for food?”

#Mirroroworld AU #immer-preussischblau

He'd lost track of time again, as he'd come back downstairs. In his hand was a small phone--certainly not top-of-the-line--but new enough to have a touchscreen and a camera attached to it. He looked up at the other, almost in surprise. He nearly dropped the phone, having not noticed the other enter the room until he spoke. Oops. He was sucked into the little phone, where he had been 'text messaging' back and fourth with a certain individual; trying not to sound crazy.

"It is quite alright," Altmann finally responded, dropping the phone into his pocket. "I hope you slept well. The bed was not too uncomfortable?" he barely slept on it himself, so he wasn't the best judge. He normally fell asleep sitting up in his chair, or on the table, or...

...And then Gilbert's stomach Rumbled. Altmann nearly laughed.

"Of course not. I did offer, did I not? Do you have anything particular in mind?" You are me, so I am sure we likely have similar tastes.

...Weird.

The albino simply nodded, starting up the stairs. They were a bit steeper than what he was used to, at least. Truthfully, he was glad the other hadn’t said more on the issue. He didn’t want pity. He knew it was something most nations went through. With the things they’d all seen, it was no surprise.

The room itself was a bit strange in comparison to his own. Instead of the dull glow of a computer screen and a few lamps, there were two large candles. A painting that had been covered with a layer of black paint hung where he kept a messy bulletin board of ideas. And where Gilbird’s cage sat, was a perch with a large, black eagle upon it. Blinking, he felt his own tiny ball of feathers hop off his shoulder, fly over, and snuggle into the eagle’s neck feathers. Shrugging it off, he lay upon the expanse of the bed, finding it soft, much softer than his own. With a contented sigh, he pulled the blanket over his form, and fell asleep.

Despite being in a new place, he wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, he was very comfortable, as if visiting the house of an old friend. In this bed, no night terrors plagued him, his face falling serene as it hadn’t done in a long, long time.

#immer-preussischblau #Mirrorworld AU

The eagle's piercing gaze looked Gilbert over for a moment when he entered, almost with a look of confusion on it's face. For a moment it had likely thought it's master had entered with short hair, but there was no mistaking the lack of scars on the man's face. The one sitting along his cheek was on the wrong side. This man was a stranger, but somehow, it still seemed relaxed, as opposed to on guard as it would be if any OTHER stranger had entered it's home. As a little yellow ball of feathers nestled into it's neck, the eagle's attention was entirely off the short-haired man, and it made a sort of clicking purr noise, nestling down against it's perch.

A few hours would pass, maybe two or three at the very most. Altmann was rather restless, pacing downstairs, thinking of who to call and what to do about this. Nothing was coming, and he kept lingering along the bottom of the stairs. Eventually, he broke that nervous feeling, and climbed the stairs into his room. He peeked inside, eyes settling first on the eagle sleeping along with Gilbert's tiny chick. ...It was kind of cute, he would admit, but soon enough his attention was back on Gilbert. ...Alright, spying on a guy with your face while he slept was a bit weird, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

He hovered just over the man, silently looking over his face, examining every little curve and every little line. He had but one Mirror in his house, and while he didn't make a habit of looking into it, he did know his own face very well. And this man's was near identical to his own. It was unnerving. It was fascinating. He had no idea how it was possible. Fingers reached out to touch again, but he stopped himself, mere centimetres from the scar over Gilbert's eye. No, no. If the other woke up to this, it'd be weird. Awkward. Uncomfortable. The man would probably think him a freak, and run off back through that mirror. He didn't want that. He'd been standing there near a half hour until he decided to go back downstairs. Slowly, he turned away, heaving a slight sigh before heading back toward the door, slowly shutting it behind him.

He quietly hoped the man would wake up soon

“Ah, I suffer nightmares sometimes,” he muttered, giving a sigh as he sunk into the couch even moreso. He could feel his tired muscles tense up. With a grunt, he pushed himself into a sitting position, feeling joints crack in his neck and back.

With a small laugh, he gave a sleepy, sheepish grin to Altmann. “I might have to take you up on that bed. I uh, tend to unconsciously wrap myself around something when I have a night terror.” Which was true, even if his usual companion was too small to snuggle. Instead, Gilbird always curled into his neck, giving the illusion of someone’s head tucked there. “If you get tired and want your bed back, just let me know,” he murmured before standing of wobbly legs, steadying himself. “Uh, which way is it again?”