It is time for something new [Flashback][Open]

Peter starts to feel a little surrounded very quickly. He's suddenly quite glad the lady, Vietnam, isn't as drunk as Russia is. While it's funny to observe the things Nations got up to while drunk, it was significantly less funny to get caught between them while drunk, especially when one of them was Russia and could probably snap him in half despite being made of metal. But hey! In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed, and he was already here, and he was still holding his camera close, so nothing that bad could be coming out of this, right?

Vietnam looks a little confused. Peter figures he could explain what a micronation was, because despite his previous rant, there's a part of him that's incredibly proud of being a micronation. He's proud that his boss bent the rules a little and stood up for himself and he's proud that they all still stand up for their sovereignty, even in the face of everyone telling them otherwise. He's proud that he's different, even if it keeps him awake and terrifies him in the same breath. That latter part's been getting better since he met the other micronations, and that's another thing that makes him proud to call himself one: he's a part of a group.

The thing is, it was hard for him to explain without undermining a point he'd pretty well undermined on his own. Vietnam's assessment when he mentioned his size was not missed. The thing with micronations was that even the term implied a small size, and suddenly he very much did not want to mention he was a metal fort in the middle of the ocean. He could still remember England's face, the brief seconds he'd shown Peter it, then, the expression of that can't be right and why and how is he here and that's impossible. He's proud of being different. But he hates that expression. He hates it. He doesn't want to see it on the older lady's face.

And then she speaks about something else and he is saved from trying to explain. Of course, his own nearly complete lack of a mental filter at the moment prevents him from having any tact at the moment. Luckily, he has actually been getting sleep. The closest thing Peter ever came to "drunk" was "high off of minimal sleep" as he lacked any filter whatsoever if anyone was so misfortunate as to meet him in that state. By no filter, of course, he means "says absolutely everything on his mind whether it's relevant or sensitive or not without consideration for the fact that he's been talking for several minutes at that point."

This was just emotional exhaustion and his typical childish mindset, though, so the lack of mental filter was a bit less severe. Still... "Eh? Why would I call you a jerk? I have no reason to know if you are one! Russia, though- he's a jerk who'd better stay away from Latvia. Yeah!" He turned back around to Russia by the end of his statement and was looking at him with an accusatory glare. "You'd- you'd better not use this as an excuse to mess with him!" Then, satisfied that his piece was said, he realized that Vietnam had just said that Russia was her best friend. Whoops. "I mean- sorry? Raivis was my first friend so I'm protective of him and Russia's a jerkface who keeps on messing with his self-esteem and doing things that make him nervous, so-" he starts to explain.

Then Russia cuts in and wow, he's drunk, he's really drunk. Then again, Peter was fairly certain he'd been drinking a whole lot of bottles of straight vodka, which, unless Peter was mistaken, had a whole lot of alcohol. He unconsciously backs up a little bit, reeling from the suddenly apparent alcohol on his breath. It had been there all along, but it wasn't until Peter saw the actions he associated with it that he actively noticed it. But when he noticed it? He noticed it. And he was slightly uncomfortable with it. His brother got drunk and id ridiculous things, but they were predictable in their generally mostly harmless nature. Sure, they got destructive, but nothing that couldn't be fixed and he didn't normally hurt people.

Peter didn't know that with Russia.

He was strong, Russia reminded them oddly, as though responding to some mental play that no other audience was privy to. He giggled. And then he talked about something with Vietnam and America and Peter quickly scanned through his mental notes of history to remember that as a long and unpopular war on the American side and that he wasn't quite certain what Russia meant by Vietnam "stealing" America from him, since he couldn't think of any reason why they'd be "obsessed" with each other or anything. If anything, Peter would have guessed that they hated each other. Maybe it had to do with the whole 'attractiveness' thing that he didn't really get...

Also, didn't Russia and America hate each other, too? Like, hate each other a lot, even still? They'd gotten better for a bit and then they'd both started biting like dogs and now this horrible finality! Why would Russia care that America had been stolen from anyone? Peter felt like he was missing something. Something big. Something important. What could it be?

Then Russia directly addresses him and Peter responds with "I'm trying- I mean, uh, I am! It's you I don't like!" He's noticed the dark edge but the bolder part of Peter steps in and he stays put with his opinions for the time being. It's probably a bad idea, but he knows the bartender's keeping a close eye and that at least Seborga is somewhere, and even if they aren't strong they can probably do a lot. It makes him feel confident again as he stares Russia in the face, even if in the back of his mind he knows it's a very, very bad idea indeed.

The bar swam together as he noticed just how tall he stood compared to the ground. He was quite tall. Very tall. He had not always been so tall. He remembered when the snow came up to his waist, and he had to trudge through it like quick sand. Now, even on heavy snow months, it rarely came up to his knees. He laughed to himself as the multiple items dancing in front of him. He felt like a giant. If only he could step on the smaller people and crush them under his feet. Da, that would be fun! Where is Estonia? He looked around the room, sadden not to see the Baltic nation. Ah, no one wished to play with him. He had no friends.

He heard the boy call him a jerk, and the sadness turned to confused anger. He was not a jerk. He had been kind to all in his home, and to others. He always greeted people with smiles and friendly conversations. They were the ones that ran away, not him. He pouted and reached down, easily picking up the small micro-nation, hooking his hands underneath his armpits and pulling him into the air. “That is not a nice thing to say,” he stated with a forced smile and shook the three little boys in his nine arms. “I only look out for others interest and protect myself. No one understands. No one,” he continued sweetly, shaking him harder. “I try so hard…no one….no one understands.” He couldn’t control his emotions as they took him on a wild ride he did not enjoy. His barriers and walls he constantly kept up had started to shatter with the large intake of alcohol. A tear slipped down his cheek. “I am keeping people safe, and they call me names, and whisper nasty things behind my back. My hearing is still good. I hear. They don’t understand. They will see. I will make them see.” His grip tightened on the boy, not even noticing him anymore until his eyes landed on the camera, and his lips formed the shape of an ‘o’.

He smiled true. “That is mine!” he giggled and took the camera from the boy, dropping him to the ground. He held it in his hand, trying to understand the contraption that did not look like a normal camera. Vietnam’s words finally pulled at his thoughts. Oh, that was right. He never paid attention to those within the country, so he always combined the regions into the country themselves. It did not matter. He hated that war in general. All America cared about for far too long was Vietnam, Vietnam, Vietnam. He should not be shouting her name in anger, he should be shouting his name.

Da…

He would like him shouting his name right now. He would have to visit his hotel if he had not left yet.

Nyet, he had planning to do. He needed to bring everyone home. It could be a fun game of hide and seek. The Baltic nations would hide, and he would find them. It was a game he played often with the trio.

When the boy seems to accept her words, Vietnam's smile grows even bigger in approval. But it fades considerably when Russia decides to be offended enough but what the boy said to manhandle him in such a fashion. She's not necessarily upset with him - it is, after all, probably largely the fault of the alcohol that he's behaving like this so she can't really blame him for his actions. She wouldn't even blame him for drinking so much - it's only natural to drink when you're upset.

No, it's the words that he's saying that cause her to frown. Yes, they're probably largely due to the alcohol too, so she doesn't blame him for them, but at the same time she suspects that he's voicing what at least a part of him believes and if that's true that saddens her a lot.

Completely ignoring the young one's protests about the camera, she steps over to Russia's side as he examines the camera. "I must be a very bad friend..." she says sadly, "You have always been very kind to me - given me weapons so that I can protect myself, giving me money when I needed it, defended my position at the world conference when even my brothers would have nothing to do with me, and helped me in every other way when I needed it. And yet you say that I don't understand?"

She pauses, her face falling further - it's as if a dark cloud is hanging over her when she says, "You're right, I don't think that I understand." There's a pause, but then her mood lifts just slightly as she hopefully asks, "What can I do to help me understand, Russia? You are my friend - I don't want to be a part of this pain that you feel." She's not sure how he'll take her words in his present state, but then again she doesn't know that he won't soon forget this entire evening and what was said. But what she does know is that he said such a thing right now, so why not respond to it as she would under completely normal circumstances?

Besides, she hasn't the slightest idea how to operate such a device. Well, she might know how to put it together. Well, then again it looks customized. So no, not anything she can really help with.

It appeared the boy might be deaf because he seemed to have gotten nothing of what he said to him. He wondered if he cut off his ears, if it would become easier for the words to travel into the hole and wrap around his brain. Did he have his knife on him? He pondered ideally. He suspected it was in one of his many pockets. He had soooo many pockets in his jacket. He wondered if that was why he felt so heavy and the world weighed down on him so. He held the camera up in the air, keeping it out of the reach of the little nation as his other hand worked to take off his coat. If he took off his coat, the weight would lessen and the questions on his mind would not be so bearing on him. He managed to undo all of his buttons when Vietnam broke his train of thought. His bright purple eyes turned confused not understanding what she was speaking about, and then it clicked in his fogged over mind.

Friend?

She thought they were friends? No one had ever spoken those simple words in assumption of his friendship before. He usually suggested the term, and it often led to those he used it towards running away. She wanted to understand, and for a moment the clouds melted to a hot warmth within his chest. He wished she could understand, yet in reality no one ever did. He knew his actions in the coming weeks would lead to harsh words and bloody violence. He did not want war. He never liked it, but he believed so much in peace that he was willing to sacrifice war enable to obtain it. He saw the sadness in her features, and it made him sad as well. Out of the blue, the large Russian man wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a deep hug, swaying her back and forth. “It is not your burden to bare,” he spoke softly, a shred of sobriety returning, “I only ask that you never look upon me with hated in your eyes. I can only withstand so much.”

He continued to hold her until he felt the camera ripped from his hand. His features pinched together as he broke the hug to see where the contraption had flown off to. He lost the brief moment of sincerity as the unpleasant Englishman appeared. Unfortunate, he had thought of America’s groupies had left. Indeed, he had once considered a man a friend, but like all past friends, they had forgotten him for the bright smile blonde. No reason for Ivan to be unpleasant in return. After all, after next week, he suspected he would be bombing the stuck up man’s capitol. He smiled sweetly, “You have always had difficulties keeping your dogs on a leash. If you would like, I would be happy to teach you. I can be a great teacher, da?” He giggled. Ivan praised himself for the kind thoughts. Da, others must appreciate his lessons.

Why shouldn't Vietnam consider Russia a friend? Yes, she's aware of his reputation, and yes she's aware that his reputation is well-deserved. But has he ever done any of those things to her? No. All he's done to her is treat her with more kindness and respect than any other nation has within recent memory. Yes, their friendship is not perfect - especially Russia's blindness to it - but it's the best she has.

Suddenly she's enveloped in a hug, and at first she's very surprised by it. But the moment that her surprise is over, she's returning the hug, letting her head rest against his large chest. "I have no reason to look at you in such a way - you have been nothing but kind to me!" she responds quite sincerely. On an impulse she reinforces her words by lifting her head up for a moment, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. She still doesn't like not being able to understand, but if he says that she can't and doesn't need her to, then she supposes that she'll just have to accept that.

And then the moment is suddenly spoiled. Turning to see who is at fault for the unwelcome interruption, she frowns at England. But she's silent as he berates the other two with her, as his words for them have nothing to do with her, really. Though when he turns his attention to her, she gives him an almost challenging look - oh, does he have anything to say to her? No, no he doesn't. When he merely says her name, she responds in kind. "England," she says, not impolitely but with more than enough stiffness to indicate that she's not only not happy to see him right now, but not happy to see him in general.

The two of them haven't really had much to do with each other directly, but what can she say about the one who raised someone like America? It would be one thing if he was properly embarrassed about that, but no - instead the man continues to support nearly everything his brother does and spouts much the same rhetoric. Of course she doesn't care for his opinion - it's likely to be the same hypocritical bigotry as always.

Speaking of those that England should be ashamed of for raising... she glances down at the whining micro-nation. She doesn't react to anything he's saying, she just look at him until he's finished with a totally blank expression.

It seemed this day could only get worse and worse. If only the world would listen to him, than there would be true peace. He could feel the onset of a terrible headache as the room swayed back and forth with the multiple of people. He never wished to see two Englands. One of them gave him enough of a headache, two were plainly overdone. He would enjoy seeing the stubborn man wounded in war. At least one benefit to action tomorrow would be seeing those who wished him harm in danger. They would not be prepared, and he would win Europe. Thi words made him smile, and he teasingly touched her cheek. “You are cute,” he giggled, before it was quickly ripped away by the Englishman’s abrupt remarked.

He frowned. His finger went into the air and swayed back and forth. “I am stable. I would be more so, if you would make the child thing silent. He is giving me a headache,” he noted, to Peter’s tantrum. His hand slowly went up to his face and rubbed it slowly. His body felt too heavy, as if gravity had decided to challenge him in particular. Everything needed to stand still. If only the world would listen to him, including gravity.

America, it was all his fault. He had to jump into business that was not his. “America’s fault,” he mumbled softly to himself. The light dimmed with each slow blink, until there was nothing, but darkness and he fell hard onto the ground like a large tree in the woods.

At the compliment, Vietnam can't help but smile - and there may be a bit of color to her cheeks as she replies, "You're too sweet to me." Of course, trust England to ruin such nice feelings. Though she doesn't fault Russia for exchanging words with him - it would be hard not to do with such provocation - she's more inclined to keep herself out of it. Whatever bitter feelings there may be between England and Russia are none of her business - at least as long as Russia doesn't need her assistance in order to defend himself. Which seems like a very unlikely scenario, both physically and verbally.

Though when the boy starts complaining about how his being treated, her attention is grabbed by the mention of her name. Though all his words do is prompt her to shift her gaze over to England and give him a questioning look - as if asking him herself why he doesn't like her. After all, from her perspective he's treated her terribly since the moment that they met even though she hadn't done a thing to him. Of course, that was mostly because he was standing by this or that nation - probably figuring that his friend, sibling, or whomever was right in their dealings with a stranger - before he even really got to know her. He really shouldn't villainize her so for defending herself. Then again, if he'd taken her side at all in any of it, he would have seemed like quite the hypocrite, now wouldn't he? And he couldn't have that, could he?

But she's distracted by such thoughts when she notices that Russia has started to sway, clearly taking a turn for the worse with his intoxication. There's a concerned frown on her lips as she watches him, which transforms instantly into a look of slight alarm when he starts to fall. As a nation, and quite the strong one at that, she could probably manage to keep him from falling entirely - never mind that he's so much bigger than her and likely dead weight on top of that. But she opts to not go quite that far and simply hurries to get behind him so that she can catch his head before it hits the ground. She's honestly not sure what to do with the man right now, and if she needs to haul him somewhere she can and she will, but until she decides that she at the very least knows that she wants to spare him from the headache he'd wake up with if she didn't do that much.

With his head safely held in her hands, she kneels on the floor and lets it rest gently on her lap. Sighing heavily, she quietly says, "Ivan..." Her tone is equal parts scolding him for getting so inebriated, concerned for the state of mind that led him to drink that much in the first place, and remarking about how honestly adorable he looks when he's passed out. He looks so much more peaceful and innocent than usual, without all the strain and worry of the world pulling at his features. If only the world was in such a state that he could always look like this! Gently checking him over to make sure that he's not physically in any distress other than the obvious - she doesn't imagine he would be, as he's a very powerful nation and not unfamiliar with alcohol, but it would be neglectful of her to not be sure - she's almost completely ignoring the arguing brothers now.