(on hold and about to be re-written)ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ - ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛʀʏʜᴜᴍᴀɴꜱ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 / 𝒪𝓃𝑒

             He remembers this feeling.

             The feeling of the cold pricking through his layers, chilling one down to their bone but having been exposed through the threatening cold for as long as he can remember, the breeze felt like a weak fan.

             He stands in a white field, winds barely affecting his temperature as snowflakes follow its cold direction and disappearing in the bright void. He isn't supposed to be here.

             It wasn't the time for snowfall - he knew that because his body, that was connected to his respective land, was warm and barely fought back. He couldn't bring himself to move through the snow that reached his calves, he doesn't even know if he has control in this place and he isn't going to find out.

             So there he stood in the white mass as the cold winds whistle against his long elf-like ears.

             " Russia. " He flinched when a hot hand was heavily placed onto his shoulder as his body completely froze.

             That voice.

             The voice of an experienced commander. The voice of a powerful leader. The voice of someone who tried.

             A presence fills the space beside him and he slightly turned his head to look at who it was, and it was exactly who he thought it would be. A taller, burlier figure with that signature symbol of the hammer and sickle underneath that yellow bordered star. They looked back at him with those golden eyes, a stoic face with silent concern seen in their eyes.

             " Ты в порядке. " They asked flatly and Russia could only stare, he feels unsettled being in their presence. He felt scared, absolutely terrified to be seeing them ever again.
             [ " Are you okay." ]

             " Россия. " Their stern voice snapped him back into what was happening, they breathed in before asking again in a softer and concerned tone, " Is everything okay? "

             He could only look away, he wanted to say that he's fine just to be done with it but his body wouldn't let him. A deep sigh came from them as the hand was lifted from him shoulder, only leaving the lingering warmth.
             " Come. " The presence beside him shifted and left, he reluctantly turned around to see where they were going but as soon as he blinked when he had turned, he appears in a place where it was warm. It seems to be a cabin of sorts, there was a fireplace crackling which he felt its warmth fill the room.

             " Sit. " Soviet told him as they approached a table that had papers scattered all over it, clearing one part for the items they were holding. Russia approached a thick sheet that was spread out with piles of pillows on it, they looked rather familiar, perhaps they were from his 'youth'?
             Well, where ever they were from, he still crouched down and sat on it. 

             " Borscht? " A bowl was offered to him, for some reason when he laid eyes on it, he felt a sense of longing. He nodded before taking it with both his hands, feeling the warmth through its ceramic bowl and letting the steam hit his face. He wondered if he could taste anything since this was all in his head. Soviet returned an approving nod before taking another bowl and carefully took a seat next to him.

             Both sat in a comfortable silence, one of them began to eat and he followed hesitantly. Raising the spoon that he dipped into it and put it inside his mouth, an intense rush of nostalgia and its delightful flavor made him pause. He missed the taste of their food during times like these, where he would huddle up in something warm during the very rare times when he wasn't required to go out and when he's even more luckier, Soviet would take the time to stay and cook something for him.