Indifferent

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Seven months had passed since possibly the most important building in this world had turned into dust and all the superpowers that were cowering inside had lost their lives. Just like that, a war that had been going on for countless years had stopped. No announcements. No broadcasts. Only silence remained in the hollow area. 


To be exact, the war was more like a revolution... but our main character didn't want to or need to know the details. All he needed to know was that people started fighting, and seven months ago, the fighting had come to an end. 


Why Russia wasn't there for the battles was still a mystery. By then everyone had some kind of problem with him. He could've joined the war and ended it - all the complaints, the protests - but he didn't. Not that he took care of stuff like that, anyway. 










A path seemed to open up for Russia wherever he went. The few people that were outside their collective tents kept an okay distance from him and made absolutely no voices when he was near. Even the ones that were running around busily with clipboards in their hands and undone food in their mouths stopped to stare at him. As a result, only the sound of the lanky country's boots could be heard. 


I'll put it this way. Russia was not someone friendly to the majority of the Europeans, but he did have enough of a reputation to earn a spot in their unstable, post-apocalyptic sanctuary. Thanks to this, he had shelter, but he did not have close allies. 


When Russia reached the tent he was assigned to, he poked his head in, adjusting his ushanka so the ear flaps didn't cover his face, and glanced in his tentmate, Ukraine's direction, checking if she was asleep. Sure enough, she was sprawled on a tarp, burying her head in her knees. Her long hair, shaved on one side, was loose so that the untreated cut on her left ear showed. Her back was hunched. She seemed to be more scrunched up these days.

That was the best word to describe what Ukraine had turned into - scrunched up. One minute she was insisting she and her brother set up tarps for when all of their other siblings find them, and the other she was shrinking into a helpless little girl. 


"They'll have to return eventually," she had rambled on. "I know most of our siblings aren't that friendly with each other, but I'll convince them to share a tent, I'm sure. I'm the second oldest, after all. They'll have to listen to me. I heard Georgia was seen alive until a few months ago, and Latvia went missing only a week after everything ended, so I'm a hundred percent certain-"


Russia had cut her off before she could finish her last sentence. She hadn't left her tent from then on.

Cutting people off was Russia's specialty, whether it was verbal or physical. That was also why Belarus never left him alone after the war. She was afraid of him scarring more people when there were enough scarred people to deal with already. 










The white clouds had changed its color into a dark shade of gray when Russia had started eating his uncooked food. A few pebbles rolled into view now and then, but Russia kicked them into the debris as soon as they did. Crumbs fell from the chunk of  instant food in his hand as he bit into it. He recalled the noodles being one of his favorite foods as a younger child, but like most memories, it slipped away. He didn't try to hold onto it. 


Now that his headspace was free from political migraines, Russia had nothing to do except contemplate. At least that was how he spent most of his days for seven months. No one wanted him to help out because they did not trust him, and he didn't want to be friendly either. That was how it was ever since he left home and started "taking his responsibility" as a countryhuman. 


Little did he know that these seven months would mean nothing to him after a mere day. 










I'm back! 

Looks like some things are about to start ruining our main character's life :')


-Dulgi

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