As the dream faded, and darkness appeared, I cried in my sleep. This was the fifth time this week I had done this. I barely got any sleep and Germany's daily routine health runs, weren't even keeping me up to my happy go-to self. I sniffled; wiping off the rest of my dried up tears, and curling up under the thin cove...
The time is World War Three. Veneciano is dying. Slowly, painfully, and alone. While all the other countries are working on ending the war with Russia, he lies in his bed day in and day out hounded by frequent, yet mild, heart attacks and fits of coughing. One day, North Italy had enough, and attempted suicide. The t...