At A Dead Draw [England]

[Russia]

All of that would have gone smoother if it weren't so cold. The frigid air from outside always found a way to seep into the innards of the Manor, which did well to aid the water that the Inhabitants had brought on. They were tactful when they envisioned and crafted what the flood would do to the nations. Those who weren't drowned and managed to escape were left soaked, their blood slowed by icy temperatures. Locomotion is hard enough when you're frozen like that; even worse when you're unable to swim. 

That all happened to be the Russian's case, but thankfully it had been long since that incident passed. He emerged from the water before it could drag him below its surface, and from then it felt like hours had passed since he began wandering the second and third floors. His clothes were still drying, heavier than they had been when he arrived here, and so much colder. Wandering like this began to feel so repetitive. He had been cooped in the Manor so long that maneuvering it had become much easier - he could have sworn each door he passed by was one he's seen before. As he traversed the halls of the third floor, he could hear that things had gone quieter. After that fiasco downstairs, silence was so much more exceptional. The water had been so noisy with all those items breaking and crashing into each other, doors and wooden walls creaking.

All he could hear were his footsteps on similarly creaking floorboards. The water had definitely long since passed, just as suddenly and inexplicably as it had come. 

And now that that event was over, things were going to start getting boring again, weren't they? Wandering around without much to do. It had been a while since Ivan landed himself in the presence of any supernatural forces, not to mention the creatures themselves. If there were so many of them here in this ancient building, then he hadn't seen as many as he imagined he would. They must be hiding in their own conniving places, not prepared to play until the time was right. Things had certainly worn him down, but Ivan was treating the Manor as neither foe nor something to be intimidated by. His mind was already teetering, broken by images he has seen of his sisters; but a nation should know that with all he has been through, he cannot let another reality nightmare break him once and for all. Especially not by means of drowning. That would have been a terribly silly way to go.

The smile on his face was forced, of course, but he knew that a calm mind and relaxed body is always the best defense; and that would be the aura that he carried with him through all of this.

He pushed open a door that looked slightly more prominent than the rest, bearing a plaque upon its surface that suggested it was only for men's leisure. Since it was already slightly ajar, it had piqued his curiosity whether there was someone waiting in there. He was startled to see a pair of eyes staring at him from afar, settling once he realized that they belonged to a portrait. He was slow as he strolled into the room, holding his pipe at his side just as it belonged to be, eyes drawn immediately to the glow of fire by his right. It didn't occur to him how long this fire has been burning for or who it was that set it alight, only that it felt like just the relief he was looking for. 

He made way for those promising flames without first looking around him. It likely wasn't best that he let his guard down this one moment, but he hadn't realized just how greatly he missed the warmer elements after that entire flooding commotion. Though Ivan didn't get very far before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It looked as if a figure had emerged from a darker side of the room, that or he had been very faulty in paying attention to his surroundings. The Russian twirled quickly, raising his trusty pipe to point its head threateningly at whatever had moved.

It didn't take long to recognize the sight of that figure, clarifying that it was not something wicked but a fellow nation. Ivan sounded Arthur's name in a surprised and quiet breath, hand still tight around his weapon, eyebrows lifted in subtle relief to see someone so alive. Though his defense wasn't going to be lowered so quickly; not until he could be sure that the other man meant no harm.

[England]

This room had become England's new sanctuary. It was the fire that kept him here, tending to those flames to keep them alive, and having a purpose as minor as that made the Englishman feel more like himself. He had lost all sense of routine dwelling in the Manor. This was his substitute. Arthur had been leaving only to seek out potential firewood from the aged, broken furniture in other rooms, scavenging for material to keep the fire burning strongly.

There were times when he swore that he felt the presence of other people in the room with him. Not spirits, no. The more vibrant aura of those Arthur had known, sensed on a level different from the five senses normal people had. At one time he was sure that he felt Francis there, and had sat for a full hour in a chair near the flames feeling heartsick as he immersed himself in that energy that felt so close he could touch it. Arthur had to wrench himself out of that spot for fear of becoming rooted there in a desperate bid to reconnect with that presence.

His water-soaked clothes had finally dried from the flooding. Even dry, those layers did little to help with the chill that persisted in its bite just beyond the reach of the fire's light. Arthur kept close to that beacon of warmth as much as he could. For the times that he had to leave the warmth of it, the Englishman had salvaged aged blankets from another room, and paced about the room with them wrapped around his body in a dusty mantle, giving him the appearance of a derelict monarch. He kept the fire poker with him at all times for the sake of his defense. So far no monster had set foot anywhere near the door.

Arthur wondered if it had to do with the portrait on the wall. The unnaturally heavy stare of the man in the picture wasn't welcoming. And it coming to life before his eyes wouldn't have surprised Arthur. A few times he had even addressed it in one-sided conversation. The illusion of talking to that silent face was better than talking to himself, right? Any effort to stave off the madness of isolation. Even if it was too late to prevent it.

In his time of waiting, Arthur kept himself occupied. He'd been delighted to find a chessboard here in the room to fill all of this idleness. Whenever he stepped out of the room, he would make a move on the board. When he returned, then he'd answer it with a counter-move. The difficulty of this was of course that he could never end his games in anything except a draw. A lack of victory or defeat. As futile as his efforts to get free of this prison had been thus far.

At one point in his frustration the Englishman had flung several of the pieces into the darkened spaces of the room to be rid of them. It struck him afterwards that he'd lost the means for his only entertainment to keep his mind from succumbing to stagnation. Arthur left the close company of the fire to go seeking out those missing pieces, fire poker tucked underneath his arm while he crouched down to feel around for them upon the boards of the floor. His fingers had just closed around the missing Bishop when he heard the door behind him swing open with a creak and Arthur froze in his spot to listen for any sign that it was something inhuman venturing in at last.

There was no mistaking who had come trespassing into his sanctuary. He didn't hold any rancor against Ivan for it. Just out of all the people he would have expected to come through that door, Russia wasn't one of them. Then again, in a way, that was also strangely fitting given the circumstances. Arthur stood up slowly with his hands fighting to keep those blankets secured on his shoulders. From what he knew of Ivan there was always a chance that the man's instability could prove dangerous. Who could tell what struggles the Russian had been put through here, and what effect they might have had on his state of mind?

Arthur's hand reached out for the Russian as he took cautious steps from the deeper shadows. His fingers intended to merely give a tug upon that familiar jacket, when Ivan suddenly turned on him. The sight of that lethal pipe swinging in his direction caused the Englishman's heart to nearly stop. He stood pinned to the spot with widened eyes, only remembering how to breathe when that weapon halted before striking. Arthur heard the utterance of his name from Ivan. At least he'd been recognized.

There was anticipatory tension in Ivan. Was the Russian waiting to see if he would attack him? Arthur could have laughed. A century or two back he might have been able to hold his own in a fight with Ivan. Now what was his strength in comparison? He wasn't a threat anymore to a man with Ivan's strength. All that he had in his arsenal was his gun that was clear across the room, a fire poker and his wits.

He lifted the fire poker up into the air, until he could rap it against Ivan's pipe with a tiny 'Tink!' sound of metal on metal. His eyes were lifted higher to view the Russian's face and already the Englishman's gruff manner had surfaced as he scowled disapprovingly up. "Don't point that thing in my face, if you please. Clearly, I'm no threat to you, as much as it pains my pride to admit it. I have claimed this room for my own and that fire there is mine. If you want to enjoy it peacefully, as I should hope you do, then put the pipe away. Once that is done then we'll talk."

[Russia]

Silence fell over him after that first breathy utterance, and so came a short period of waiting between the two nations. The arm with which he clutched and prominently aimed his weapon was entirely still, for not even his fingers shook; but that grip was so tight to keep the weight of the metal steady that his knuckles, were they to be seen from underneath the dark gloves he wore, had likely turned white. The Englishman's face was clearer to see beyond where the head of his pipe was pointing at him, his expression well declared despite the shadows that had dawned over it -- Ivan could tell now that he had taken him by surprise.

Just before that bewilderment had turned to scowl, the Russian's eyes flitted down, startled, by the movement of England's choice weapon and the sound that marked its collision. Then came the Englishman's voice in a long trail of disapproving words, which both relieved and irked Ivan to have to hear. For whatever reason, it had him nearly in a fluster as well, and that was evident by the unusual lack of a smile now upon the taller man's face.

He hadn't thought of this room as someone else's territory - nor any of the rooms in the Manor, really - upon first arriving, but Arthur's declaration otherwise had him taking a more careful look around. His gaze lingered in particular on the flames that danced dazedly near them, since they had been the thing he was looking forward to the most just moments ago. Someone putting a name to them didn't seem to urge him at all to stay away from them.

When he looked back at Arthur, his head tilted at an angle to try and see behind the man. The pieces that lay scattered on the ground were overlooked, but he was still lead to notice the board that rested on the table just beside him. His pipe had been lowered down as directed, but he didn't let go of it. "Sorry," he muttered first, not believing he should have been scolded for being high on his guard. Seeing as he hadn't mistakenly injured a harmless nation and started a new rift, this was something he would soon let go of. "You were hart to see there."

He moved aside, continuing a few steps forward before he reached an empty chair at one end of the chess table. Now this had his attention captured as intently as the fireplace had. He sat to look it over, treating it as if it were a marvel he had forgotten about - as something so commonly seen back at home, it was comforting and longing to see another where he least expected it. A finger swiped over its dual colored surface, curious about its age and possible amount of dust. It was noticeable that some pieces were disarranged or missing from the board entirely.

The flames were beckoning, but talking seemed the most important matter to undergo first. Now his pipe was released, dropping noisily to the floor after having slipped from the Russian's fingers. His eyes returned to Arthur, trying to let the presence of the game board and the crackle of the fire not too far from them sink in as something to relax him. "S-sorry, again. I will enjoy it soon. Do you think you are here because this room proofs to be safer than the others? Claimink anythink as your own is not goink to do moch goot for everyone else."

[England]

Ivan did not seem interested in waging an attack on him and for that Arthur was infinitely grateful. His trials in the Manor thus far had sapped enough of his strength. He doubted that he could hold his own in a fight with the Russian if it came down to it. The fire poker lowered when Ivan's pipe did, mirroring it's pace as he echoed the motion of bringing down his defenses to prove he was intending for this to resolve peacefully.

When Ivan's attention turned beyond him to the table, Arthur let out the breath he'd been holding when the larger man walked past him to investigate it. Keeping his lungs from drawing air for that long had him dizzy and the Englishman blinked quickly to clear his vision as he pivoted around to watch Ivan begin that inspection of the chess board. He felt the same protective surge over it as he had the fire. True, these things did not belong to him. That didn't mean Arthur lacked his old habit of possessiveness.

At least it was an item that Ivan could appreciate. Had it been anyone else entering into the Englishman's claimed domain he doubted the chess board would have warranted more than a passing glance. He remembered that the Russian loved the game just as much as he did. How many times in through history had they sat across a table to a challenge just like this? Arthur almost let loose a nostalgic smile. Then he recalled the more immediate clash that had happened between them moments before and decided it was better to keep his focus on the present instead of the past.

The Englishman cautiously approached the table. His hand moved to empty the clutched pieces from between the webs of his fingers to let them spill upon the surface of the board. "I have been keeping occupied with matches against myself. It isn't as satisfying as having an opponent to work against. This is one of the few luxuries I've found available here in this place."

He kept his gaze locked nervously on Ivan, body gingerly lowering into the opposite chair. The positioning reminding him of just how bloody tall the Russian was even when seated. Arthur rested his fire poker against the arm of his chair to keep it in reach. He wasn't as careless with his weapon as Ivan had been. There was no telling when he might need it at a moment's notice for all the good such a flimsy weapon would do him. "To answer your question -- yes. The portrait in this room is unsettling. However, thus far the energies in here have felt the best to me. In the beginning I spent all my time wandering about the property. I find it more heartening to have a place to return to even if it is not my home. A place to direct my steps, as it were."

Arthur began to start positioning the pieces back into their starting places. Setting the board for a fresh game. He wouldn't ask Ivan if he were in the mood for a game. He'd just assume that the Russian was interested. At least it would give them distraction from their situation for a little chunk of time. "I keep the fire going in the hopes that someone might see it and come find me. Though I had not expected it to be you." The Englishman paused, settling back in his chair to look across to Ivan's face. "I'm happy that you're faring well. This is a very unkind place."

[Russia]

He broke his and Arthur's eye contact a second time after speaking, attention fixing once more upon the slab of polished wood between them. Two nations now sitting at equal distance across from each other, brought under different circumstances, undergoing different trains of thought and yet somehow brought together by this one object. Not to mention the disagreements they had had over even the smallest of things - small enough to still create large rifts between them. But this was perhaps a link toward what they could agree on. Remembering mutual interests (he knew they had to have a few by now) and small stepping stones to bond over, even if just for this one moment. 

A chessboard did make a wonderful bridge, so to speak. Tension and wariness might still have hung in the air from their clash just moments ago, but Ivan couldn't feel its weight. It was dissipating just as his irritation and uneasiness was, and he certainly hadn't any reason to turn down a game. His answer was solid without him even having to say it aloud. It was nearly a far stretch for him to remember the last time he had been challenged, but it was vivid to recall the importance of the game in his years. Into mind came images of himself once having played against many of the biggest names among his people. Being up against a recurring nation did not feel any different now, and so he could sink into it with ease.

A rigid spine supported Ivan's posture, and he was watching studiously as those pieces sprawled noisily over the board. Playing a match against himself, he knew that scenario rather well. He broke his stiff posture with a forward lurch of his body, visibly relaxed as Arthur began to set everything up. The pieces stood so naturally in their rightful places that it was hard to grasp that they were still here in this deathly place. Maybe if he tried hard enough he could imagine the scent of tea brewing nearby. "Home," he repeated, feeling himself smirk. That only amplified what he had been trying to imagine. A comfortable setting at either his or Arthur's home, where their tea breathed wisps of steam and rays of sunshine came sprawling through the drawn window curtains. "I was not worryink about the portrait. Bot that is how we all startet out, certainly. Lookink everywhere, insite ant outsite. There is nothink wronk with that, because there is usually somthink interestink to fint. Bot then you do neet somwhere nice to go when you are tiret in the ent."

He assisted Arthur with arranging pieces until they were all perfectly aligned and ready to move. Ivan's elbow settled itself on one corner of the table, cheek resting languidly in the crook of a palm. That left his other hand free to move, continuing to speak while his index finger pressed down on the head of one of his pieces. He was admiring them, but he made sure not to leave England out of his focus. "So you were leavink the door open. That is goink to make anyone want to look in, silly." If not me, then who? He briefly wondered whether anyone would be expecting him. It was an unfortunate conclusion that everyone must be so concerned over running into monsters that they are no longer expecting each other. 

To hear Arthur's relief over his current health boosted him. "I am, spasibo. I am happy I dit not fint you deat in here or floatink in the water a while ago~ It might be a mean buildink bot it has not won over both off os yet. You are locky to haff this room now, though you shoult be more willink to share."

[England]

Watching Russia was fascinating. Not for the obvious aesthetic offered by the man's appearance (though that had never been unpleasant) but for the subtle shifts in him as he underwent changes in mood beneath the surface. Arthur prided himself on his ability to read most people. It was no difficult task to learn the patterns in their behaviours, to puzzle through them, until he had a grasp on their internal workings. Just like with chess, the Englishman had always known that it was vital to learn how to read the flow to predict the reactions of other people. That was how he had become such a formidable opponent in his time.

Ivan had always been an enigma. That had not changed over the many years they had fought as enemies or allies. Arthur was left knowing hardly anything about the Russian aside from the same public knowledge that others had of the nation. It challenged him in a way that was as equally stimulating as it was vexing. This was likely why their games in the past pushed the Englishman to work his hardest just to keep up. Considering how much time had passed since they had sat across a board from each other like this, Arthur was already second-guessing his ability to defeat Ivan in a proper match.

For now he was just trying to keep his wary stare aimed at the bigger man without being blatant. His eyes flickered just enough to avoid seeming too direct. He privately marveled over how easily Ivan settled into a state of ease. The Russian had become absorbed in the board without any open concern for the door and what might come through it at any moment to interrupt their tentative peace. Arthur wasn't able to maintain that same level of focus. His spine remained straight as an iron bar, face turned just enough to the door that he could keep it in his peripheral view. He didn't miss that smirk that altered the shape of Ivan's mouth as he spoke again.

It's as if you fear nothing that might come upon you. I cannot believe that anyone could be so fearless and yet here you are as if this place is little more than an inconvenient lark. What on earth do you fear, Ivan? He mused as he watched the man's posture continue shifting until Ivan finally settled. The press of a finger upon one of the pieces lowered Arthur's gaze to that direction so that he was viewing the board instead of the face of the man across from him. His tentative smile was sincere enough, as he responded in a courteous tone. "Oh, yes. It was only a matter of time before someone came poking their head in. Naturally I expected it or else I might have locked it to keep all others out. You just weren't a face I'd had in my imaginings, that's all. Here you anyway as if I summoned you. In this place one must learn to expect the unexpected. It's the only way to keep one's sanity."

Not that he considered himself an expert on sanity. The Englishman was aware that many a fellow nation had stated behind his back that he might have been off his trolley. Claiming to see things unseen by others, or that he could perform magic -- no one really believed him capable of these things and often dismissed them as the delusions of a lonely island nation. Arthur didn't mind their disbelief. If no one knew the full extent of what he was capable of then it was a trump card he could keep carefully tucked away in a pocket until the right time. He did wonder what Ivan thought about his past talk about his abilities in their passing conversations. Did the Russian also believe he was barmy?

Arthur placed his hands in a loose fold upon the lip of the table. It was as relaxed a posture as he could manage given the circumstances. It took effort not to bounce his foot or to fidget. His nerves were getting the better of him. They grew worse when Ivan mentioned the possibility of his death, especially from the waters that had recently plagued the area. The Englishman shuddered in his chair. He couldn't keep that reaction in check enough to hide it. Even the flutter of his eyelids betrayed Arthur's horror with the idea, since that fear had been very real to him. "I have not died yet. Been dodging those bullets so far. I am sure my luck will run out eventually. Let us hope that the timing of your arrival isn't about to coincide with my untimely death, hm? I would much prefer a match if you're so eager. My mind is losing its edge with all this idle time I have on my hands."

A pawn piece was plucked from its station with a flash of the Englishman's hand, moved to a new space on the board. He didn't wait for any diplomatic agreement as to whom would go first. Arthur got the jump by advancing first on the offensive to see if Ivan would take him up on the challenge. "I'm curious as to what you make of all of this. Any insights to offer while we play?"

[Russia]

Arthur's surveillance was furtive but did not escape his notice, nor his own personal tendency to keep people under his intense watch - here Ivan's eyes were deft between watching each behavior that preceded the start of their chess match and watching Arthur separately from that. The man's disquietude either stemmed from other events that had led to this one or from the Russian's presence alone with him, and he would prefer to believe that it was the former.

In doing so, he listened to and thought about what the Englishman was offering about sanity. His theory was as curious as it was hard to follow, and it didn't help that Ivan's mind was sidetracked, wondering whether the cordial smile on Arthur's face was an effect of his own doing. If only he knew how, Ivan would make it a point to keep it there throughout their remaining time together. And if it were just a little stronger, their faces could be matching.

"You haff accidentally sommont me so many times, ant you are still disappointet with the result," he said softly, his own disappointment hardly fitting with such a calm demeanor. That composure was likely to stay true to him until his departure. "I do not know what to expect ant what not to anymore. Every door I open coult be somwhere new or some room I haff been to already. Anyone I am tryink to fint is either alife or deat. Bot because I know it was a lie that my sisters are deat, I am doink jost fine without havink to follow any off that." Those few statements ended in a serene hum, marking their forward shift in conversation topic, although he hadn't yet lost each careful mental note taken of Arthur's high-strung reactions.

The checkered board remained prepared all the while, patient despite its players being rather distracted with one another. Ivan's finger glided from the King piece which it had been resting on all that while, gently enough that he would not knock the poor royalty over, to land on the head of his white pawn. "Thank you for beink willink to play, too. At least not all off os are forgettink the leisure we can still be havink while we are here." A light pressure sent his piece sliding forward, reflecting his certain acceptance as well as his eased nerves in comparison to Arthur's. From the start, each of his moves were arrived at with ease - as if there wasn't such a gap in time since the last time he played. "You are askink what I think off everythink?"

His eyes lifted to Arthur's to check, although there was something else barring his mind before he could quite think of other matters. "I noticet jost moments ago that you looket appre..apprehensiff to what I sait about drownink. Dit that make you afrait? That you coult haff drownt? I will tell you that I do not know how to swim well either, so I woult haff feart the same think. Bot nothink else here has scaret me very moch. Monsters are not proplem to get through." He was aware that by speaking so vaguely, he'd be met with further questions. At least he had pressed a few onto Arthur to answer first, if only it would get the attention off of himself for a moment longer.

[England]

The game was already distracting Arthur from his tension. His shoulders slipped down from their rigid angles as he concentrated more upon his next move on the board than any potential dangers that might arise during their match. Thankfully there was also conversation to absorb him, so far pleasant and civil. He didn't have the same connection of friendship with Ivan that Francis did yet for the most part they still got along well enough once they'd put their Great Game aside. Arthur was also sensitive to the fact that the Russian's history was as dark as his own, and that they both had their inner demons -- so for that reason alone he didn't see any need to bait the man needlessly.

"When I've summoned you in the past, it has indeed been accidental. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the company. I would prefer your company for tea more than the presence of many other nations. If I ever seem put off by those instances it is for my own failings in my practice of magic. Plus, it is expensive to send you back home on an aeroplane that often. I feel wretched enough for interrupting you in whatever you were doing at the time, without putting the financial burden on you for getting home." Arthur explained when he detected the tone of Ivan's voice. He did not want their time here getting ruined by misunderstandings.

He nodded when Ivan gave an opinion about the dangers of the place they were currently trapped in. Especially in reassurance about the subject of the Russian's kin. "Your sisters are both strong, resourceful women. I am sure this is all merely a temporary inconvenience to them. It's just a matter of time before you three are reunited. I have the same hopes for locating my family as well. Er. Hopefully with my brothers in good enough spirits not to fight with me on first sight. My familial situation is not as closely knit as yours."

Arthur waved off the gratitude over engaging their match. "It's as much for my benefit as for your pleasure. My mind needs to focus off the issues of this place and my imprisonment." His eyes were rapt upon the board. He was trying to anticipate Ivan's intended path of play through the movements made, wanting to catch every piece that the Russian's fingers hesitated over to try reading how the man would continue forward.

When it was his turn, the Englishman's hand flashed forward again to adjust another pawn. He was decisive in his motions, lacking any hesitation since he already had a strategy set in mind. That would waver only if he needed to adapt to Ivan's choices. Arthur's hand did not even leave the area of the chessboard before he froze with the questions directed at him by the Russian. His eyes bobbed up from their pieces to find violet giving him that unbroken scrutiny.

Answering honestly felt too revealing. Ivan was forthcoming about his weakness with swimming. He owed the man a direct answer of his own in fairness. Arthur sat back in his chair, hand dropping upon the arm of it. "I cannot swim at all. I have had a fear of water for as long as I can remember. Looking back I think it stems from a time when I made the mistake of traveling all around the island I share with my brothers. I traveled all around it, finding water on all sides. Being such a small child, I was ignorant to the possibility that I could leave it if I wanted. Like those who once believed the world was flat -- I was fooled by my own innocent mind and lack of experience."

Arthur shifted in his seat as he continued speaking. Now that he had begun to explain himself, it seemed the words were keen to unload from him in a steady stream. "Until Francis came across, I thought the land on the other side was an illusion. Standing on my shores, looking out over endless water, it felt like the most isolating feeling ever. I feared that water because of its relentless presence. The endless rain didn't help either." He shook his head, tugging at his ear with a self-deprecating smile. "Silly now to think that such a childish fear would embed so deeply in me even as I grew. My dread concerning water remained with me. I had thought that by creating my navy, conquering the seven seas, that I'd lost my fear over time. I never did. Now I have recurring nightmares about drowning in dark waters, all alone."

His words drifted off to thoughtful silence. Arthur broke it to abruptly change the subject. He was no more comfortable speaking about himself than Ivan was. "I suppose you don't have any nightmares, do you? Nothing to fear for the likes of you. You mentioned that you did not face any difficulty from the monsters here. Have you encountered many?"

[Russia]

Conversation and strategic chess playing were carefully interwoven. Ivan made sure not to miss a move that Arthur made - even if they were only at the start of a game - nor to ruin the natural flow of conversation between his voice and Arthur's. Granted, Ivan would be pleased to hear anyone's voice for the sake of company, but at that time the Englishman's was particularly pleasing to listen to. His accent was comical to the Russian and ever fitting for such a familiar activity between them.

Ivan's disappointment lifted the more Arthur's words were soaked in. "Tea," he repeated quietly to himself, as if that was the word that had stood out most among the rest. His lips twitched and his smile curled, distant yet thoughtful toward that much nicer image. It seemed to him that Arthur was insinuating an apology with his words, which Ivan was more than willing to accept - at least it seemed now that he ranked high among Arthur's enjoyed company. Considering the Englishman's usual temperament, that was rather flattering. He would have commented that when he's alone and only ever doing things to entertain himself, interruptions are never a burden. You should also know that I'm always happy to see you when you summon me, right? Instead he said with playful mocking, "Then you shoult start learnink how you can sent me back with magic. Even if it is done by mistake."

What Arthur had to say about his sisters was another hopeful thought to go by. He had made a rather disbelieving face when the Englishman commented that he and his sisters were closely knit - he hadn't always been that way with them, but such a discussion would only make Ivan miss them all the more. He wanted to question Arthur's standings with his own brothers, but perhaps it was best not to allow their conversation to steer in that direction.

Violet eyes flitted back to the checkered board, watching where Arthur's fingers guided. The Russian was quick to lay his finger down against another of his pawns, sliding that forward to rest on a space near the other pawn piece. Once that was done, his hand retracted to rest by one of his Knight pieces, waiting patiently for his partner's turn.

He, too, appreciated their excessive conversing. It meant that they wouldn't get too wrapped up in their game, and that his time with the Englishman would stretch on longer than they might intend. Maybe even hours would pass by without their notice. Ivan didn't seem to care at all. He was eager to hear about the island nation's relationship with water, to see whether he was right about Arthur's fear.

It was certainly more talking than he had anticipated, but he couldn't help his being absorbed. Rain and endless water were easy for him to picture. His mind was lit with images of a younger, smaller Arthur facing each fear he had listed off. Relentless water surrounding, capturing and pulling him beneath the surface to drown - it did nearly mirror what the Manor itself had just undergone.

Drowning seemed like such a silly thing indeed, but it was enough to haunt and erase even the strongest of nations, wasn't it? And Ivan found it interesting that Arthur had decided to pour his heart out like that. He wondered whether he would have told the same thing to anyone else just then.

The Russian smiled even through that brief interlude of silence. His demeanor did not change even when faced with Arthur's question. No nightmares? The idea of that alone sounded like a dream. "How thoughtless off you," Ivan started, although the tone of his voice was light. "If you were sayink I haff not hat a nightmare recently, you woult be right. I haff not slept enoff to get them now. If I hat nice dreams then I woult sleep more - bot it seems the only way I can haff nice dreams is if I imagine them while awake."

For a moment, his expression looked lost. Forlorn. If he had gone any further, he might have forgotten to address the rest of Arthur's questions. "They do not go away. Bot I fear thinks too, silly." His smile was demanding effort now. "I haff not dreamt off drownink though, bot you know now that I cannot swim any better than you can. Monsters do not scare me, nyet. Not any ones in books or at my home or in this place. I guess it is only the thinks I can see in my heat that are scary. Since you haff jost tolt me so moch about you ant water, I will explain more about this if you wantet me to." He paused to shake his head. "I haff not met monsters that killt me yet. I met a nice bear ant thinks that are propably invisible, that is all."

[England]

"Tea, yes." Ivan's move was finished, so Arthur felt it safe to look away from the board long enough to give the fire a considering squint. "I could probably brew some if I found a decent pot for boiling water. We were so resourceful during the Wars, you know. An Englishman's tea in the trenches was as highly valued as his service pistol. Going out to search for a satisfactory item would delay our game. It can wait until after this match." Arthur murmured, his face turning to the board again while dismissing thoughts of tea in favour of their game.

He couldn't decide if Ivan had placed his hand near the Knight with a plan to move it next or to use it as a bluff. Airing with the side of caution to keep his defenses intact, Arthur steered his Bishop's piece into a spot vacated by his Pawn. It was aggressive, moving his pieces into such an offensive position this early on the board. Whether he would maintain that strategy through the rest of the match wasn't clear even to him. It depended on Ivan's next movements. His hand dropped back onto his lap, eyes widening across the table at the Russian when that playful suggestion was given.

"I wouldn't dare to try it. It'd be too risky. Summoning you into the empty space of my basement is easy; I keep that area clear for just such a reason. Can you imagine how unfortunate it would be if I were to transport you back through space with magic and you ended up stuck through a chair? I would never live it down if you advertised to others that I'd blundered in fusing you with your favourite armchair. No, no ... I'd need to know the layout of your house as well as I do my own, and then would need to have a proper arcane circle to send you back through safely."

Arthur became fixated on the pieces on the board rather than Ivan's face. His cheeks started to warm, firelight highlighting the colour that had mapped out across his skin. "B-besides, it would need to be rushed. I would have to send you back quickly after summoning you or else the magic has an increased chance of going awry. Then there wouldn't be any time for tea together, or giving you a tour of the garden -- no time at all for your company, really. I'm fine with the expense of flying you home the normal way when you decide you have had enough of visiting with me."

With Ivan finally responding to his less cheerful words it gave Arthur time to listen silently. He regained enough courage to gaze upon the Russian's face, just as youthful as his in many ways, and yet marked by a maturity only gained through considerable hardship. Arthur thought upon all the horrors that Ivan had experienced in his time. They'd both faced down their demons to continue forward, becoming the men -- nations -- they were today. Ivan's forlorn expression prompted him to reach his hand across to rest lightly upon the Russian's. It wasn't an action of pity but the supportive touch of one who understood all too well the concept of having one's mind often beyond their control.

"Mm. My mind can be my worst enemy at times. I'm curious to know what it is that you imagine that causes you such fear, if the idea of the monsters here do not." Since Ivan offered to give him further explanation, Arthur's curiosity prompted him to take it. "What is it that you fear when you close your eyes, Ivan?"

[Russia]

My, my. Such a teasing suggestion about the English nation's faulty summoning had rolled naturally off of the Russian's tongue. It was such a familiar situation and common banter between the two men that Ivan didn't expect that to be taken into consideration. Consideration shifted into a full analysis, contradicting the Russian's tendencies to not think situations through before he proceeds with them. He held back his giggling at the idea of melding with a chair, and the mirth in his expression was clear indication that he didn't feel threatened by any such an obstacle.

Arthur's drawl had not yet grown tiring for Ivan to listen to. In all that speech, there were a few things that he could keep mental note of. Arthur was quite thoughtful and meticulous about his magic and the Russian's safety... and did think highly of time spent with his company. Those certainly weren't the type of things Ivan should forget.

"Okay," he mused, halting Arthur with a wave of his hand and briefly detaching himself from their game. "I see it is lot off trouble. Apologies. I am not one bit disappointet you cannot do that for me. I am perfectly fine with flyink home too, da." With such a shade of red blossomed over the Englishman's face, it was hard to continue paying attention to the board between them. "Tea, garden, nice talks... nothink that shoult be rosht."

The heavy decline in conversation topic was another factor to distract him. He supposed he had to remember that the house they were in was an entirety of peril and nations whose lives were at risk. It was inevitable that subjects of fear and trouble should seep into their heads, just as easily as such things seeped through the walls of the Manor. A game of chess was no lasting exception. The building might belong to America, but it wasn't and wouldn't be any leisurely visit to one another's homes. Ivan could almost dwell on wondering whether any of them would have that nice chance again.

Now, that wasn't very fitting for a Russian's usual optimism. His smile surfaced even with the rise of darker matters. There was a bloom of warmth over his skin where Arthur's hand touched down. He didn't dare to move it, wishing that the duration of such comforting contact would last.

As if on cue, violet eyes lidded shut. His other hand lingered near his Knight piece, pointer finger ghosting over its polished design. "It is not only when I close my eyes," he said when they opened again, directed straight across to Arthur. He did offer to explain, yes, and what he had to say was not often shared with others. It was even less likely that people were curious about it. "We haff all seen plenty off ret. We haff all been hurt and troublet, bot it is not usual that someone points their fingers at you or at China or anyone ant say they are soch a scary monster. Hmm."

If Arthur's hand decided to stay put, he would appreciate the comfort it had to offer. It would level Ivan while these confessions made themselves known. "After all I haff been through, it is a little onfair that people are afrait off me. Mean, I woult also think. I do not know if I haff fear off myself, bot I do fear those pointink fingers. I still see a lot off ret ant a lot off my past when I close my eyes. I see myself hurtink people, bot I do not ask for any off it. I see each day beink as alone as the last one... As I sait, nightmares do not go away."

His throat felt rather tight, breathing maintained with steady movements of the chest. Unsure where else to look, those rounded eyes remained locked upon the face of his sole company. It was probably best that he stopped talking - but he didn't. Mental fears were not a short list. "Dit I say before that I fear dyink? I do not know how anyone does not. Closink the eyes ant imaginink that you are jost gone. Maybe it woult safe me from my trouble, bot I do not want to leaff my contry ant my sisters behint. Maybe that makes it silly that I do not fear monsters, because they coult jost kill me. Everybody here coult. Bot I try not to sobmit to that. I am a force that coult crosh everythink else if I wantet to. I haff people to protect, I..." ... pause ... "I do not know who else wants to protect me, which.. which is fine. I protect myself. I am stronk force here," he repeats that point, perhaps noticeably nervous that he might be speaking more than Arthur asked for. The room felt still, the fire particularly warm and noisy with its crackling. "Izvinite. Everyone here is goink through hart time. I am not extra special." It hurt, somewhat, to admit to that. He wanted the sympathy and the attention - he always did. 

[England]

Listening to Ivan talk, Arthur opted to remain quiet, not wanting to interject while the Russian was on a roll with his words. He had shared company with the man enough times that the rushed pace of that thickly accented voice was clear for him. Distress always thickened it further and the Englishman's hand tightened further on the hand beneath his to lend whatever calming effect he could while Ivan unleashed the bottled potency of all those internal thoughts and concerns. While he'd blundered with the directness of his honesty before, the Russian was answering in kind. At the end of it all, Arthur ended up stunned to silence, staring back at that anguished face with those youthful eyes pinning him in place.

Ah, shite. He'd always had a weakness to that kind of expression. Paint those eyes blue instead of violet, skin a little darker -- pleading or teary-eyed and he'd just pat him on the head before turning to sail off back to home or war or conquering. Arthur's eyes fluttered a series of quick blinks to chase away those afterimages of memory. This wasn't Alfred he was dealing with, it was Ivan. Stray thoughts of others was unfair when this was Russia's moment. He cleared his mind of anyone other than the man sitting directly across from him. Ivan had opened himself up into a vulnerable state; it was vital that Arthur respond correctly.

"It's not entirely true that you're the only one with accusations pointed at them. I have been told on many occasions that I'm monstrous. Not so much these days, no, but . . . it used to be fairly common. My people weren't always kind to others in my name. I had many fingers point accusingly at me; from my colonies, from my enemies, from my brothers. Everyone tends to forget that we are not the sum of the choices of our leaders, our military or a select group of people that behave terribly."

His fingers squeezed again at Ivan's. The board between them might not have even been there anymore. "I know what it's like to be treated that way. If I have ever come across to you as one of those who treat you with distrust or fear then I'm very sorry. You're always so unreadable, so poised -- I never would have guessed that those things effected you. My impression of you has always been that you were above that pettiness. I guess hearing the same things over and over again becomes difficult to ignore."

Arthur drew in a deep breath. He strengthened himself to rise out of his chair and cross to Ivan's seated body. It wasn't easy for him to express affection. Not even with those he felt closest to. In this instance it felt important that he try, for Ivan's sake. Arthur's hand slipped free from atop the Russian's to curl instead around his shoulder in an awkwardly angled hug. He could have been smoother going about it. At least it was a valiant effort. Anything to get that expression off of Ivan's face. His lilting voice spoke low into a nearby ear.

"Never say that your death would be a solution. No matter what you believe, you are special. You've got a strong body, a strong will, and a sensitive heart. There's nothing wrong with that. You're Ivan Braginsky -- and there's nothing wrong with being that, either. People aren't always going to understand the potential of who you are, either of out stubbornness or their own fault. It might not mean much coming from the likes of a dour little island in the Atlantic but I think you're... well, you're aces just as you are. Who else would I drink tea or play chess with like this?"

He patted his hand gently on the reach of that shoulder as he added, "And we protect each other. While you're with me, I'll protect you, so long as you do the same for me. Just like any other time we have stood together against the frightful unknown future. We don't need a formal document to be allies, do we? We can make those promises all on our own. Does that... does that make you feel a little better at all? Honestly, Francis is much better with these situations than I am."

[Russia]

A thin bridge of confidence was what held Ivan's gaze to Arthur's. His lips remained thinly parted to allot those steady breaths, eyes slightly alarmed that he had just let all of that spill. Perhaps his first apology wasn't enough? He considered repeating it, apologizing for reasons he wasn't even sure of himself. In that period of silence, he waited for Arthur to say or do something. There was no telling - no reading it in Arthur's expression or body language - what that reaction would be. He would hate to hear that Arthur was thinking of someone else, though that might be something he would have to find understandable. He said it himself: he wasn't and hadn't been the only troubled soul. When Ivan felt that confidence of his fall to nothing, he looked away.

There was nothing else to grab his attention; nothing more comforting than the image of the Englishman across from him. Evasive eyes viewed the chess set before them, void of his prior enthusiasm and interest in the game. The chess pieces were, for the most part, still perfectly aligned. The slow start of their match had sent only a few pieces forward, which stood proudly and separated from all the rest on their single squares - they remained unmoved, patient although neglected by fingers that no longer sought to move them.

That was so even as Arthur began to respond. If his call for sympathy were to be struck down, he wouldn't find it unexpected. He could recall countless times where no one would care for his suffering, or where he wouldn't care for his own suffering - there were times when his home was in toil and the pain of his people had always brought him down, but it wouldn't do him any good to say so. His tentativeness to voice his discomfort arose from darker stages of his history, where he might trudge through frostbite and bloodshed and fear the result of his daring to complain about it.

Arthur's words were not being drowned out. The longer he drawled, the less Ivan worried - and in that same stupor of silence, his eyes rose to lock themselves upon that other face. Monstrous. He wasn't unaware that that word had plagued others before, no, but he wasn't used to hearing it from others - just as he wasn't used to talking about it to anyone.

"So you...?" He began and trailed off, listening as Arthur continued in his place. He wasn't sure where he was going with that, anyway. Thoughts were difficult to piece together in this state. He had almost forgotten about the connection of their hands, hesitantly warmed by that squeeze from the island nation. If it weren't for that vice, his hand would prefer to busy itself hiding beneath the table or touching at his scarf. Since his other hand was free, it rested anxiously on his leg just below.

He felt obligated to speak in that next silence. There was a twitch of his jaw before he could even get anything out. "Y-you woult not do that on purpose to me if you know what it is like. You haff not trostet me a lot, people haff not trostet you - everyone goes through that. I know you are better now." He wasn't sure where to go from there. He could continue for hours spilling bottled troubles which he's never voiced to willing listeners. He watched as Arthur rose, but his intentions were unclear until he'd neared closer, posture drawn for an embrace. Awkward would never have crossed the Russian's mind - hugs were hugs and were always nice in any position.

Always nice, in Ivan's mind, meant that they were supposed to induce real smiles and better feelings. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had latched onto him for comfort or for reassurance, and that mild affection from Arthur effectively brought the Russian's emotion to spill over. His head turned to view the wall this time, ear opened to the words that whispered from Arthur's mouth.

He did not mean to express disinterest through those actions. He felt helpless, astonished by the kindness of the Englishman yet unable to express his gratitude - he wanted to say it was foreign, that it had been so long since anyone brought themselves to do this. It was his own fault for never opening up. Arthur was not wrong to comment on how poised the Russian always had been. His eyes squeezed shut in stubborn protest to tears that began to surface, warm and stinging behind pale lashes. "O-Okay." That was weak, but all that Ivan could come up with.

He stabled himself with another breath, feeling gentle pressure against his shoulder. He would not cry - there wasn't a worse place and time than in the manor to express such raw emotion - but at the same time, he wanted to. Those tears were blinked back as if he'd willed them away, saving Arthur from further trouble. "Francis dit not tell me what you jost dit - you were fine. You sait all off that to me, so I am thankink you." That embrace was not properly returned, but Ivan's hand did reach to gently grasp Arthur's arm; a grip to keep the man in place. His head turned and finally was their eye contact reconnected. "I-I will not bother you by sayink anythink more. I was not suppost to say all off that, bot... we still sharet our troubles ant our fears together. I will not forget that you are troublet too. I-I am special ant Arthur is special. That is the biggest think to make me feel better here so far."

He couldn't foresee anything nicer happening in the near future. Arthur's compassion was a shine of radiant sun over the endless shadow that was the manor - if Ivan were to die there, at least he had those words to remember. "I am sorry about our game."

[England]

"Whatever you might have to say, I don't consider it a bother." Arthur assured Ivan as he moved to slowly dismantle from that embrace to return them both into a state of separation. He did not make any motion right away to free his arm out of the Russian's grip, but did carry his mobile hand up to ruffle pale hair with a sheepish smile. Though Ivan had expressed gratitude for the words he'd spoken and the actions he'd taken to comfort the other nation, Arthur still wasn't entirely convinced that he was any good at it. No one had been turning to him for such things in many years. All of his skills had gone rusty.

The Englishman added more gently, "And it shouldn't take my saying so to make you recall that you're special. That's something you should take to heart to remember all on your own. Especially if it helps you to weather this place better. No matter how low your spirits sink, hopefully this moment will be one to brighten them, even if it seems impossible. I'd like to think that if I'm of any help to you in the future it is due to our words here."

At the mention of their game, Arthur's eyes returned to the board. It was true that they had not progressed very far into it before their conversation interrupted. His heart wasn't as invested in the match after all of these things they'd said. Arthur was more concerned that Ivan returned to a state of mind where the Russian was stabled away from that despair. The Manor had a way of eroding their strength through that method; sapping their energy from the inside through mental turmoil and emotional anguish. Not even Ivan could remain immune.

Arthur decided that it was imperative that he do whatever was necessary to help repair whatever damaging thoughts had wounded Ivan. He'd suffered through plenty of his own. As one whom could recognize the influence of negative energies, the Englishman was able to identify where the lines blurred between his own self-doubts and those suggested or even magnified by the forces around them. Knowing that Ivan had a gift for these things -- at least in curses, and not quite the same as Arthur's -- he wondered if perhaps those negative energies had seated themselves in the Russian, targeting Ivan since he was clearly too fortified against more direct attacks.

"I mean it. If it surprises you that much that you shared yourself so openly then it might be a sign that you're not fully in control of yourself or your emotions. Compromised, if you will. My observation about your strength wasn't just talk to bolster you up. Normally you're more reserved than this. Certainly more confident towards yourself and what you are capable of. So if you find yourself dwelling on despairing thoughts more than usual then you should consider the possibility that they are not your own. Or, at the very least, twisted to cause you the greatest pain."

He drew in a deep breath once he'd gotten all that out. If it had not yet crossed Ivan's mind that he was being influenced then hopefully the suggestion would provide the Russian with ammunition for the future. Prompt him to build better armour. That was precisely what Arthur had done the instant he'd become attuned to the fact of not being the only one in his own head. "We can return to the game if you wish. I haven't lost the thread of the match. Or if you had more that you wanted to vent from your heart to lighten it, well -- I'm here for that too. Sometimes the best way to rid us of our burdens is to send them out of our own selves and lend them voice. I guess people would consider it therapy of a sorts? Never believed much in all that psychological hogwash myself."

[Russia]

Their voices were a valiant effort in chasing away the silence--the oh so aching and nerve wracking silence--but it was a difficult battle. Arthur's sentiments nestled in with wounded emotions, prying open tender feelings that, in Ivan's time in the manor, had only been so fleetingly touched upon. Fearing that if he had nothing else to say, the silence would dominate and something would happen to tear himself and the Englishman apart. He would be pried away from heartfelt words that, despite his half-genuine attempt to guide Arthur's attention back to their chess game, really did invoke feelings he never thought he'd experience again while within these premises; under all of these negative influences.

He didn't know whether he wanted to continue. Would the worth of the game impede what affectionate understanding had grown between its two players, or strengthen it? Its simplicity was what held them together, initially, before some manipulative and pessimistic energy derailed their concentrated minds. Furthermore, he wasn't sure how to continue. All that Arthur had told him so far weighed heavy in his mind, tangled with other thoughts that began to bother the Russian. What waited for him outside the parlor door was not home and a steaming samovar of tea but a swarm of forces ready to chip away at the memory of his and Arthur's encounter, or to pounce upon his more emotionally weakened state.

And what are you doing, letting him see that you're falling weak...? To counter self-scolding thoughts, Ivan needed only to remember that Arthur's warmth and touch and the vague scent that he left on his body was all real. Thoughtful time had passed before Ivan released his grip on the man, breaking another instance of non-intimate but meaningful physical contact between them. They were just things that he wanted to hold onto. If there was no one else alive to show him such sympathy as Arthur just did; no one to express that they can understand him rather than reducing him to mindless titles, then he would remember every detail and spoken word to fuel him later on.

So he, too, took a shaky breath, felt his weakened smile, and wished he could handle Arthur's speeches with more of a leveled head. It was still so strange, hearing his flaws voiced by another person... even though he and England had frequented chess matches as well as war encounters in their history, they still could be so personable while joined together in times of despair.

"Y-you are too moch," he finally said, hardly indicating what he thought of this influence and his being unable to control himself. "I am not goink to forget again what is goot about me. I really wish we coult be in here all the time..." ...but that would not get them any closer to going home. Ivan's hand moved again to pinch a chess piece between his thumb and pointer, wiggling it but making no progressive move. His mind was no longer on any strategies. "If we spoke more about what makes os afrait ant opset, someone might start to listen." Although ominous, he expected that Arthur would catch his implication that someone was in fact something. "If you are right about all this manipulation, then I guess we are puttink ourselfs at disadvantage. Which is... onfortunate... because I woult loff to hear all off that about you. What has hurt you most since you haff been here, what else you haff to say about your feelinks..." 

His smile was such a terrible effort at this point, but he really wanted to let Arthur know that his company and his reassurance was a tremendous help. "Sometimes it is nice therapy to say nothink at all, ant jost be affectionate. Bot I do not want quietness.. I want to hear you talk ontil we are too tiret. If either off os do that, then there are better thinks to do to help our hearts, like saying what we woult like to do if we were free. If I haff your genuine kintness to brighten my future when I am free from here, then what will you haff to make you feel better, Arthur?"