Wolves in Wolves' Clothing [Prussia]

As the other Nation stepped into visibility, Natalya noted that she had guessed correctly. It was, in fact, Prussia. She mentally considered her next step. Like most Nations out there, of course, he'd be physically stronger than her- but then again, little East Germany wasn't so much a Nation anymore, was he? She'd still operate under the assumption that he'd be stronger, of course, but it would be worth keeping in mind that she probably wouldn't have the disadvantage in physical strength she typically did. She stood simply in wait. He was the only person who was of much of a threat to her at the moment. All of the nearby opposing soldiers had been dispatched of, already. It would take some time to clean her uniform. It was possible, though- she'd done it before, and she wouldn't simply leave it as it was.

The night hung over the battlefield and between Natalya and her razor-sharp instincts and Prussia and all of his... Prussia. Yes, that was the best way to describe it. It wasn't as though Prussia wasn't a formidable fighter- quite to the contrary. He simply did not plan as much, from what Natalya knew of his fighting. Natalya had always planned, that being one of her bigger advantages. She used her small size to her advantage, let people be either so afraid or so underestimating of her that they forgot that a lack of physical strength was not necessarily a lack of threat. Prussia had never had that need to the same extent.

He strolled forward, and she remained in place, muscles tense. If it looked like she'd have absolutely no advantage, she was not afraid to bolt. While it would be a blow to Natalya's pride, while she'd much prefer to stay and fight, she understood that escaping might be the overall better option in the absolutely worst case scenario. She was ready to bolt forward and attack, to dodge, at the first sign that Prussia could be firing a weapon. This tenseness, this readiness was visible in her stance- she was clearly wary. Not afraid, but wary. You'd have to be an idiot, Natalya thought, not to be wary in a situation like this, from either side.

"Восточная Германия," she said, calmly, wondering silently if Prussia still knew the Russian, or if he'd purposefully blocked it out, refusing to remember it. She supposed she couldn't talk. For all of its strategic advantage, she'd never been able to bring herself to learn German. At any rate, he'd certainly heard that name from Russia enough times that he ought to recognize it. If he was going to try irritate her with nicknames, she felt nothing wrong with bringing up his past in the Eastern Bloc. They'd both been there. It wasn't like it hadn't happened, and it wasn't as though Natalya wouldn't use it against him.

(Besides, it wasn't as though her time as the Belarusian SSR wasn't also used against her.)

At his next comment, she rather pointedly looked around. Guns were still firing elsewhere, but in their own corner, things had gone eerily still. Mostly her fault, she supposed. She took a deliberate look at the blood around her, shrugged daintily, and flatly said "Whatever helps me sleep at night." Her tone made it nearly impossible to tell what degree of sarcastic she was being, and her face betrayed no answers. She was certainly being flippant, if nothing else.

For the record: as flippantly as she spoke, she actually spoke true. Sometimes, the only surefire way to get herself to sleep through the night was to completely exhaust herself, and the battlefield could be a good place to think or a good place to stop herself from thinking. It was a simple way to exhaust herself to the point of collapsing into sleep she might not have otherwise gotten, if not exactly healthy, mentally or physically.

"Now, you? Trying to forget about your missing brother for a night, or trying to take your revenge? This is an equally good place to do both, after all."

Hmph. He wasn't immediately rising to the bait. He really was upset, Natalya noted. On the one hand, that would likely give him some kind of focus. On the other hand, anger made most people a little reckless and rather predictable. It didn't matter much to her, though, whether he was acting because he was upset and infuriated or if he was acting simply as his normal arrogant self. She could deal with the East German well enough. It wasn't like she hadn't done so many, many times before now. 

And if he was looking for fear in her eyes, he would not find it. Of course she was wary- she was wary of just about everyone, and Natalya was especially wary when she was in front of someone who has clear motive to hurt her. However, if he wanted to inspire actual fear, he ought to choose someone else to try to frighten. It took a lot more than one angry German albino to make Natalya feel real fear. Real fear- that was something she was figuring out for herself, but it certainly wouldn't come from Prussia, that was certain.

Actually, to be honest, she was enjoying trying to rile him up somewhat, not that she'd admit that out loud. She raised an eyebrow when Prussia pointed out that he knew exactly where Germany was. Well, of course he did. Ivan had mailed Germany's ear to Prussia, after all, and it seemed to be having somewhat of the desired effect- making Prussia raving mad instead of logical (not that the idiot was ever very logical). "Semantics," Natalya said dismissively, perfectly aware that it was much more than semantics to the East German.

He took a step forward. Casually, her knife, which had still been moving somewhat in her hand, stopped moving entirely. She was entirely coiled to pounce the moment it was necessary. She just wasn't going to yet. Their conversation was much more fun. Her tone was still somewhat flat and conversational, though, as she kept talking. "No, he did not scream much," she said calmly. "Actually, I think he was trying to apologize to me. Have you had his head checked recently?" She paused. "Oh, wait. You would not have had an opportunity of late. My bad." The best part about this was that she was telling the truth, and that would almost certainly be more effective in at least throwing the East German off guard than making things up.

It was almost a shame, though- Natalya wasn't even having to work terribly hard for this one. He was working himself up for her. "Of course I used one of my knifes," she said, rolling her eyes slightly. "Honestly, Восточная Германия, you are not normally quite this much of an idiot." Was she meant to answer that question? Probably not with fearless sarcasm, but really, did anyone expect anything else from her? She'd also resolved to only call him a particular name in Russian for this particular fight. He might not have reacted much before, but say it enough, and it would still likely throw him off balance. He was typically easy enough to upset, as he was proving right now.

East Germany stepped forward once again towards her, and proceeded to stay something she supposed she was supposed to be threatened by. Excuse her if she wasn't finding it but so intimidating. She blinked once, her expression cool and unimpressed. "Yes," she said flatly. "I did not grow proficient without practice, and I did not exactly practice in a forgiving environment or manner." She looked at him for a moment. "Were you expecting a different answer?"

(She was having far too much fun with this, but he really shouldn't be making it so easy for her.)

Natalya had expected Prussia's immediate denial of anything that he perceived as an insult to his brother, whether he believed it or not, out of sheer principle. As in, Natalya was fairly certain it was Prussia's principle to be as obstinate and disagreeable as possible while maintaining a massive ego and sense of pride for a location that did not exist. He'd been like that when he represented those irritating Knights and when he was properly Prussia as well, though then at least he had some backing to his words. Now it was just sad. His ego was terribly disproportionate to his actual worth- although, in that sense, it made perfect sense that he'd try to defend his brother with all that he had. It was what someone with very little less to lose would do (she would know).

She raised a manicured eyebrow. "He's apologized before, you know," she said. A slightly cold tone fell over her voice a moment later. "Even if it is a matter of pride for you, I feel like you are not giving your brother enough credit for, say, ruthlessly razing most of my country in an attempt to get to my brother. In the winter." She paused. "That was you too, though, wasn't it?" And don't think I've forgotten it, her voice said, even though it didn't much matter anymore. She'd rebuilt (eventually). Only to get knocked down again, but hey, that was life, which tended to just take and take with no discrimination. Another thing that Prussia might be able to unfortunately emphasize with her about. Unfortunate, of course, because the very idea of being too similar to the white-haired prick was painful. At least she'd never be quite that ridiculous of a loudmouth.

Then Prussia called her a coward. That one did give her pause, though it wasn't so much a feeling of being insulted as the feeling of actually having no idea what he was talking about. At least, Natalya thought, that meant she didn't emphasize with him too much, since she'd lost his train of thought somewhere. "Alas, we cannot all be reckless, loudmouthed idiots without a thing to lose," she responded, mocking sadness in her tone. 

But the response, while she kept her mocking features, was slightly more automatic as she tried to parse what had caused him to call the person standing in front of the admittedly larger and, depending on how well she was today, possibly stronger man and purposefully upsetting them. She lost that he was referring to the fact that she wasn't actively fighting Ivan, and for that split second pause after he spoke, that faintly showed on her features. (Besides, as for fighting her brother- she'd tried that. She wound up half-dead, covered in burns, with a new discomforting level of fear for anything nuclear, and generally in a worse position that she started. Why try again? Why end up dead for the trouble- because that's all she would get. Dead, or at the very least with further emotional wounds that she was no longer equipped to deal with.)

She remained ready to jump at just about any moment as Prussia crept closer. Fight or flight time would be very soon at this point. She doubted that Prussia's temper would last much longer before he decided to put in actual effort to harm her. That did not prevent her from shrugging at his next question. "It depends. Is it working?" The shrug did not last long and her knife was kept at ready the entire time, but her response to his comment about provocation was still in an almost light tone of voice.

His next comment was predictable. "Not in the way you are implying, simply the stupidity of youth," she said. "That was never how I dealt with depression." There was a slight grimace on her face as she said it. (Natalya "dealt" by pretending to ignore it while slowly self-destructing through lack of food, sleep, and proper rest, overworking herself and finding things for herself to do that weren't thinking until suddenly she ran out of ways to not think altogether and it all came crashing down at once and she found herself isolated and having a quiet, skin-searing meltdown- she'd gotten good at being quiet.) 

It was perhaps testament to wounds that did not quite heal that she did not deny that living with her brother had hurt her. It would hurt her worse to leave, now, but it had hurt her all the same. She simply narrowed her eyes at him and pretended to have the reaction he'd expect, that is to say, irrational anger at the insult to her family. She felt that too, of course, but she did not immediately stab him the way she might have before (war, death, hurts). 

She stood there for several seconds, taking cool breaths and giving him a death glare. Since she was only somewhat upset, she managed to keep herself in line to stand there for several long seconds, as though waiting for him to reply, as though she wasn't quite at peak anger/upset, yet. (She wasn't, but she was closer than she let on). Several long seconds, much longer than she normally lasted if her temper had actually snapped. She took a breath through clenched teeth, as though preparing another insult.

Then she stabbed him.

They were standing quite close after all and she might as well try to get the drop, gain the advantage, and she wasn't even looking at how well her sudden lunge had actually connected- it had been aimed towards his gut, low enough that it hopefully slid beneath any body armor he might have or might not have been wearing (it was Prussia, he hadn't necessarily thought this through all the way), but she needed to get around him before he could realize what had happened so she darted to the side, the knife tearing across his clothes some, at least, before coming free in her hand as she quickly ducked for further cover.