{~-Heavenly Veil-~} Rusame Love Story

Chess Outcome

On the other side of the tinted window were the endless waves of white carrying an abundance of reflecting light that spread like the boundless skies- the very ones that held an ominous tranquility in colors of delicate gray as soothing howls rode the shivering winds. But within the snug heat that envelopes the black limo- creating a comfortable embrace that attaches to the beauty of wine where two towering countries sat in lingering silence between a musing battle of chess.

Tsarovia heir: Russia Federation, never left his calculating gaze off the chess board. They were as delicate as the snow- fragments of ice, enveloped with serenity yet masked with indifference. But they could not stop their faint glow of soft silver luminescence- a layer over the kindling crystal hues.

However, there was a contrast between the one who sat opposite of him. The Russian Empire royal blue's sparked with amusement and intertwined with swift judgment as he leaned back into the cushions of the seat, his upper arm laid across the head whilst his head leaned into the palm of his hand. His chest rising and falling along with his breathing as he finally made a move; Rook to C6 and took hold of the knight that soon fell into place on the sidelines.

Russia's eyes narrowed slightly and he leaned in, elbows placed at his knees as his fingers bridged together where his chin rested on. His mind becomes further intune to the reality of the game and discards the outside world- even when the vehicle became unstable from the bumps of the road caused by piles of the snow, or when his grandfather commented how the pieces seemed like they were going to fly off. But Russia remained composed with strings of precision as he made his next move.

Bishop to C6 taking over the Rook's position.

The Russian Empire merely shrugs as he looks over to his grandson's calculating figure. He was in awe that his grandson took the game so seriously when he suggested the game for simple pleasure.

He heavies a breath; Second Rook to C4.

Russia's hands intertwined as they fell between his legs. They fiddled over the compass locket, grazing its shape and miniature carved gold structure. The Russian Empire sees this, curious as to what it was since the car ride began.

"It is awfully quiet here." His voice pushes the blanket of silence away but Russia makes no response to his words. "Say, do tell what that is within your hands. It is quite small to be a compass yet too big for just a locket."

Russia eyes down the item in his hands. He slid his thumb over it as a tender gaze shone for just a moment before masked with complete indifference. "It is a gift." He stated.

His reply was much too short and chip for Russian Empire liking, but at the word 'gift' it set an dwelling interest. He hums in acknowledgment. "A gift you say?" He removes his head from his palm, letting his lower arm finally rest on the cushions. "I assume such a gift was not given to you by Soviet, and I know full well your siblings could not get their hands on such valuable gold. Might I ask who bestowed such a unique gift upon you?" He finished with a small smile and raised a brow.

Russia's silver ice gaze remained fixed on the locket, his fingers tracing its intricate design with gentle care. A flicker of emotion sparked within his eyes with the subtle action of pressing his lips together before a moment of silence helped mask his troubles. Soon after, he finally spoke with a measured voice. "It is from America."

The Russian Empire's eyes widened slightly before they were brought down. A mix of surprise and igniting curiosity danced across his face. "The prince of Albion Imperium? I would never have imagined for you to hold a connection with the prince himself."

A fade glossed over Russia's eyes as he recalls eyes brighter than the skies and deeper than the seas of blues that showered in the summer's delight. "It was . . . unexpected I suppose," he admitted in a rather low voice. "I hope to return the favor one day."