I'll Follow the Sun - [Prussia/Russia]

[Prussia]

Birds were chirping. He could hear them outside the window, calling him awake. Gilbert's eyes fluttered open, blurred for mere seconds before they sharpened the sleep away to land upon the white curtains nearby. Sunlight streamed through the fabric, carrying in a light breeze that caused them to sway. He stared at them in confusion. Then his lean body rolled upright into a sitting position, pushing blankets down to pool upon his lap as the Prussian rubbed briskly at his face with both palms. "A dream? Man, those were nasty nightmares. Guess West was right about not eating pork before bed."

Gilbert yawned broadly. His fingers slid up to shake through his hair to shake the white strands into a wispy mess. He folded back the blankets to swing his feet down to the floor and rose from his bed to approach the window. Gathering back the curtains, the Prussian squinted out to the sky beyond. Beautiful spring blue. No wonder the birds sounded so overjoyed. He could feel the warmth radiating in where he'd left his window cracked open overnight. Ludwig probably would have scolded him again for being so careless since the basement was already too cold without the evening air being allowed to seep in. The cold never bothered Gilbert. The cost of the heating bill, on the other hand, bothered Ludwig immensely, or so the Prussian had heard in complain on occasion from his frugal sibling.

Where was Ludwig now? Judging by the angle of the sun it was approaching noontime. It was rare for Gilbert to sleep in so late. His brother had likely already made a productive day out of these hours that the Prussian slept. Gilbert couldn't fathom what caused him to be so tired that he'd not waken earlier. He let the curtains drop over the window again while turning to his nightstand. The digital numbers on his bedside alarm clock read a vibrant 18:18. Military time was the only time this household operated on.

Gilbert frowned down at the number. He picked up his clock in both hands to shake it gently. Perhaps it was broken? There was no way by his estimation that the time could have been correct upon it. It had been in his possession for a few years now. It was probably malfunctioning. Which explained why he had not been woken up by his alarm. He placed it down on the nightstand with a sigh. "Time for a new clock. I wish Lud would let me get a cuckoo clock without muttering about France. That'd be awesome to have."

Thinking about Ludwig made him decide that he should go seek out his brother. He ventured out of his room, a hand slipping beneath his shirt to scratch at his stomach as the Prussian padded along on bare feet. Another powerful yawn snuck up on him (why was he so damned sleepy still?) that Gilbert didn't bother to control. He checked in Ludwig's home office first since that was the most likely place to find the German. Not only was the space empty when he barged inside, there was absolutely no sign at all that Ludwig had even been there. All of the items on the German's desk were in their meticulously arranged places. This puzzled Gilbert. He was convinced that he'd find Ludwig there.

That puzzlement didn't stop the Prussian from moving the German's stapler just a fraction too far to the left. The German would notice that and be bothered by it. That was Gilbert's underhanded way of getting back at his brother for being evasive today. Gilbert's eyes landed on the clock upon the wall.

13:13

Now that made absolutely no sense at all. The Prussian's arms crossed over his chest as he faced the clock with a scowl. Twelve numbers should have been present on it. However, a prominent 13 dominated the top of the clock's face. Was Ludwig playing a trick on him? He left the door to Ludwig's office open as he stalked out into the hall, mood becoming more sour as he spoke to the space around him. "Ha ha, Luddie. Very funny. You're a riot. Just because you're bigger than me and your bicepts are the size of my head doesn't mean I won't take you over my knee! Where are you hiding? Come out!"

Searching the entirety of the house left him empty-handed. There was no sign of Ludwig to be found anywhere. Gilbert tried to rationalize that there was a perfect explanation behind this ("He's gone to the store. Out to the office. On a jog.") to ease the growing panic within him, to no avail. The absence of Ludwig was causing him immense concern for reasons he didn't understand. Those emotions weren't in his control. Gilbert hurried to the front door last to yank it open as if the German might be just on the other side.

Snowflakes came rushing inward through the opening to stir around his body, a breeze rustling his clothes and hair. No, this was impossible. He'd seen the sunshine pouring in through his bedroom window. Had felt the warmth of it on his skin. There was no natural way that it could have warped into this snowy landscape in such a short amount of time. "You're dreaming. You have to be. There's no way that this could be real."

As he uttered this, Gilbert went stepping outside. The ground beneath his feet was blanketed with white. He couldn't feel the chill of the snow under the press of his bare feet, though it was common for him to be immune to this element. The Prussian crouched down to spread his fingers out over the snow. He sifted through it to let the powder drift free on the breeze that still whistled around him, ignored. Heat from his fingers caused the snow in his grasp to melt away until Gilbert's fingers were dripping from the moisture.

Maybe that was the dream. His brain suggested. The dream was that you were back at home with Ludwig, and this is your reality. The cold and the snow and the quiet and the dread that any second now you're going to fall asleep never to wake up again. And he will sit across the table with that angel's smile looking like there is nothing to be afraid of in this world while you're facing every night with the same old fear.

There was a sound of a boot crunching down in the snow behind him. Gilbert's muscles tensed when he identified the sound. He went to twist around to face whatever shadow had fallen over his coiled figure, when a hand came slapping down roughly on his shoulder to shake him--

Gasping, the Prussian jerked awake. He was already sitting upright on the floor, his alarm having driven his body to a more defensive position on instinct. Gilbert had used his hoodie as a makeshift blanket when he'd finally succumbed to the need for sleep. It dropped down forgotten to the floor as he tried to fight to get his body back under control. His heart was pounding rapidly, pulse racing. Having nightmares like that wasn't helping the Prussian to get any useful rest.

Floorboards were creaking nearby. His hands went reaching blindly for the gun in his possession to pick it up. Gilbert knew that firing a shot when he was still so out of sorts wasn't going to do him one lick of good. Who knew what was stirring in this room with him? He braced himself there in his shadowy hiding spot, voice harsh as it rang out for the nearby intruder. "Who's there? I'll shoot you if you don't answer."

[Russia]

His alertness was now dependent on the lack of sleep he had recently been getting. Things might be different if he ever even tried to get a wink of sleep, but his thoughts were too pressed under the imagining that if sleeping in his comfortable bed at home gave him nightmares, sleeping here of all places wouldn't be any better. The feeling of drowsiness was easy to suppress and ignore, and since stepping outside he had yet to run into someone who could tell him how drained he might have looked.

As per usual, the outside air greeted him with chilly arms. He had grown used to its stagnant feel and to the disappointing discovery that the Manor's exterior environment was as lonesome and dreary as its interior usually was, considering how many times so far Ivan had wandered through each. If anything, the outside did feel just a touch more natural. The garden resided somewhere around here (well, he knew exactly where) and so did the sun, if it ever cared to show itself from behind trapping clouds and the Baudeau's personal blanket of dark auras.

It was not the sound of his boots creaking upon floorboards that caught him, but the voice. The crunch of coiled and flaking leaves, the snap of sticks fallen from unsightly trees - it slipped Ivan's mind that common sounds such as these could be risky while trekking through these parts. He would tend to forget about them, and it was only when they alerted the attention of nearby creatures or nations that he realized how noisy they had been. That, or it was simply too quiet out here. He didn't expect that anyone would be found in the barn and stables, which was likely why he wasn't entertaining his usual sneaky habits.

"Who's there? I'll shoot you if you don't answer."

Even after Ivan's final step had been taken, the aged wooden floor continued to croak underneath his weight. His expression twisted into immediate disbelief and irritation. Not because of who he recognized as the owner of that voice, but because of the threat that Prussia just rung out to him. Though since the looming presence of such weaponry had him admittedly weary, he was mindful to obey Prussia's request for an answer first.

"What is this with all off you beink so eager with weapon?" he inquired rhetorically, speaking with unintentional hypocrisy - he wasn't quite thinking about past situations in which he would have done the same thing with his own threats. And this situation stood in similar parallel with his finding England in his sanctuary not too long ago, but that was different! A blow from his weapon wouldn't so quickly take a life as a bullet would, and that's what he would use as his excuse.

Certain that his voice had reached each stable, he set forward to reveal himself. He located the man among all the shadows that hid him, standing not too far in front of him and the weapon that he bore. The Russian's lips thinned with impatience as he spoke again, though his tone had softened in light of plausible forgiveness. "Hello, it is me. You coult haff lookt first at least, before you are goink to be accidentally killink a frient or somthink like that."

[Prussia]

Even when Ivan stepped into his area of sight to reveal himself, Gilbert wasn't sure if he wanted to lower the barrel of his gun. What would it hurt to put a bullet in the Russian? If he clipped the leg then he could at least outrun Ivan. That is a dangerous line of thinking. He chided to himself, the gun dropping its threatening angle to hang at the Prussian's side.

He was wedged in the corner of the stable that Ivan now stood in front of. His bedding was straw he had gathered enough of to make the ground slightly softer than hard. Some of the bits were clinging in his hair now that he'd sat up. Gilbert ignored their presence. He looked like hell as it was. Having straw stuck in the white strands on his head wasn't going to make much of a difference at this point. The Prussian's eyes moved slowly up and down Ivan's figure, red depths closed off with no sense of welcome; too wary for that.

"I wouldn't have fired a shot until I knew for sure what was in here. Bullets are too scarce to waste." Gilbert intoned matter of fact. Meaning that if Ivan had been perceived as a greater threat he would have not hesitated to sacrifice one. He reached pale hands up to grip the wood beams of the stall to pull himself up on his feet. At least that way Ivan wasn't towering above him so much.

Gilbert brushed himself off quickly. This was too weird, that he was just dreaming about the Russian. The dream had leaked over into reality. "I was having a nightmare. You woke me up mid-way. It wouldn't hurt you to be less noisy. What if I were a huge monster lurking in here waiting to spring a trap on you? One with really big teeth. Or laser beam eyes. Or... hell, I don't know. A big bad thing."

His musing on possibilities for creatures was broken by a yawn splitting his face. He felt lethargic still from his rude awakening. Gilbert brought the heel of his right palm to rub at both eyes to chase the clinging tiredness from the lids. Maybe if he asked really nicely (using the word 'bitte' was supposed to be nice, right?) then Ivan would let him hitchhike on a leg beneath that jacket of his because the garment looked pretty damn inviting compared to the cold around his tired, aching body. The Russian didn't appear very afflicted from the trials of the place.

"Or you could get your brains eaten by a worm." Gilbert added belatedly, as a synapse fired off in his waking mind. "Pretty sure that happened to me. Can't really remember. Doesn't look like you've had anything eating your brain or even nibbling at your fingers. How have you managed to get by this long without looking like you've been through hell?"

[Russia]

It seemed that the lowering of Gilbert's gun was the only thing necessary to quell Ivan's irritation. He kept an eye on the thing as it went down, flat expression exchanged for just a small smile once Gilbert had made his decision. "Thank you." At that point, Ivan took the time to observe where Gilbert had made his territory. Straw on the ground didn't look extraordinarily comfortable, and he couldn't imagine how much colder the air got overnight. "Why dit you not brink anythink warmer out here with you?"

He was ignoring the Prussian's clear unwillingness to allow the Russian into his space. When violet eyes noticed specks of hay interrupting that white scheme of Gilbert's hair, he reached a hand forward - not mindful at all that the albino probably wouldn't like that - to brush those strands out. His head was tilting to mind his work, making sure that the hadn't missed any pieces of hay. Each of them now rested on the ground among the others. 

"I know you woult not want to waste your bullets," he said once he had finished, his arm returning to his own space. Gilbert had promptly attended to brushing the rest of his body off, so Ivan knew better than to assist with that. "A life is not goot to waste, either. At least you are knowink to be careful."

He hadn't thought to offer Gilbert an apology for waking him. In fact, he found it oddly interesting to hear that he had interrupted a nightmare. "You were?" Ivan started, vaguely amused by that rambling list of potential obstacles. "Shoult you not be happy about that? Nobody wants to sit through a nightmare for soch lonk amount off time. If I dit not come ant was not so noisy then you woult propably still be havink it." Of course, he hadn't any idea that he was the image of Prussia's nightmare - but he didn't ask about it. "Bot if you were one off those thinks, then I do not think interroptink your nightmare woult haff been goot for me. I might not haff bullets to waste, bot I can still bash ant kill some 'bat think'."

To speak with such confidence was effortless, even if it was an act of showing off in front of the Prussian. On the other hand, the fact that Gilbert could so casually comment about experiencing a trauma like that had thrown the Russian off. His head tilted, inquiring first before he responded to anything else: "You are 'pretty sure'? What is that? That is not somthink people forget, onless your memories were eaten, too. Are you sure that was not part off your nightmare?"

His lips pursed, hands raising so he could briefly survey his fingers. No, it didn't seem that anything had bitten them so far. He was equally certain that nothing had gotten into his brain, either. "Please, that does not mean this place is beink nice to me. I am stock like everyone else is, bot maybe I am jost handlink it better. I haff not gotten into anythink dirty ant haff not gotten attackt, I guess that is it."

[Prussia]

Having large fingers picking through his hair to remove strands of hay had Gilbert turn motionless. He didn't expect any violence out of Ivan -- they had no reason to fight these days -- yet the action of the Russian grooming the debris jarred him just as much. Pale skin began to darken, suffused with bashful blood, and as soon as those fingers retreated, Gilbert was running his through white hair to brush it into careless order. "I don't have anything warmer with me. Didn't figure I needed it. Never had an issue with cold much so it would just weigh me down carrying useless stuff."

Crimson retained a wary study of Ivan's face. It was oddly comforting to see that smile -- contrary to the dread it gave him in his nightmare. Gilbert acknowledged that Russia was strong. He credited himself for the man's success, because if anyone had tormented him as badly as he had tormented Ivan when they were children, he'd have become a massive powerhouse too. Not that he ever expected Ivan would thank him for being such an effective childhood bully. "Sure, it's great that you interrupted my bad dream. Just would have been better if you hadn't done it by scaring the hell out of me. Especially when you were in it."

He looked away from the Russian, cheeks having dampened their color down to a subtle pink. The albino's face was still stretched with tension. Remembering what had happened to him was a chore. Gilbert almost admitted to Ivan that he couldn't even recall the night he'd arrived here. Time and memory were too blurred together for his brain to keep track of the sequences. Confessing to Ivan that this made him fearful of losing those early memories entirely was out of the question too.

"Nah. It wasn't part of my nightmare at all. I know that it happened to me, just not the details. Something bad had gotten into me, I was dying, and all I can say for sure is that I remember England being there, yelling at me not to die. You'd have to ask him how it all went down because it's all fuzzy." He explained at last, only able to supply this much of an answer to Ivan's quizzing. "My nightmare was set in the past. With the endless snow everywhere and you breathing down my neck. I don't even know why the hell my brain decided to dream about that schiesse out of the blue. Maybe I sensed that you were nearby?"

Gilbert's eyes snapped back to Ivan examining his fingers. He pushed the Russian's hands down with a roll of them shortly after. "You'd know if anything bit you. Not like you're a moron. Guess it's lucky that you've made it through okay so far. As much of a pain in the ass as you are to me, I'm glad that you haven't suffered too much. Just don't tell anyone I said that. It might ruin my public reputation of hating you." A hand bridged the gap between their awkwardly distanced bodies to apply a light tug upon the Russian's scarf. Gilbert was too bold or too arrogant to care about the taboo of touching that treasured garment. Pressing his luck with Ivan was a good means of getting his mind off his other troubles.

That demeanor of arrogant disregard also meant that he could avoid being honest. Gilbert's appearance spoke for all the words he didn't say and the complaints he didn't voice. Exhaustion shadowed the eyes that were teasing Ivan. Even that normally sharp smile was dulled with the effort it took to maintain his 'tough guy' routine. His sleep had not been enough to recharge him. The hand gripping Ivan's scarf was trembling faintly, sure, but Prussia was not the type to admit to weakness even when the evidence was stacked against him.

[Russia]

To hear that he was present in the Prussian's nightmare was yet another factor to dampen Ivan's spirits. It seemed it wouldn't have mattered whether the Russian inquired more about it, for a vague explanation was delivered to him either way. He was silently pleased that he hadn't asked for heavy details in the first place, although a stubborn curiosity had already begun to prod at him. Besides, Gilbert's mentioning that he was in that dream didn't particularly point fingers at him being the bad guy. Perhaps he was the good one (hero is a term to carefully avoid) to have saved Gilbert from trouble. Trouble such as big brain-eating worms, seeing as he was not present to save the Prussian from any such thing in reality.

Any of those curious questions would have to be suppressed and saved for a later time. It felt a better priority that he listened to Gilbert's first explanation, which briefly served to distract the Russian's mind from dwelling on the albino's mysterious nightmare. Unsurprisingly, his face expressed interest and a clear lack of disquietude in Gilbert's past predicament. Even while Gilbert intended to shift the topic elsewhere, the Russian was left thoughtfully piecing together images in his head, figuring how such a thing could have happened - they weren't the prettiest images, no, but he found himself more stumped than disturbed at all. "That sounts like somthink that shoult haff killt you." That likely sounded worse than he meant it to. His pointing out the obvious wasn't too smooth of him, either. "Bot you are not. Not deat, I mean. Hm."

The sensation of Gilbert's hair against his fingers was still fresh in his memory, so he didn't have to check again to see that the Prussian was tangible. Those thoughts of his ceased with the usual smile, deciding in the end that the Manor had its odd ways of working everything. The man's focus shifted back to Gilbert's dream, just as he had intended. "Oh! Dreams are strange too, bot off course thinks like that happen. I woult apologise for scarink you, bot all I was doink was walkink. I do not think I coult haff woken you without startlink you - I dit not even know you were in here."

The force of Gilbert's hand pushing his own went without a notable reaction. If anything, it served as further reassurance that nothing like that did happen to his fingers. "Somthink nibblink on my fingers sounts like it woult tickle. Bot I guess a worm with teeth is not as nice to run into. I woult loff to go arount sayink that 'Gilbert is really happy that I am so healthy', bot I do not think there are many people arount who woult care." It didn't please him to admit to that, but at least he could be happy with the thought all to himself. Gilbert's nice words did sound genuine, after all. Perhaps enough to soften his use of such pointed words as 'hating you'.

A tug to his scarf, however, caught his attention. The Russian's cheeks were dusted a rosy color and he was mindful not to shoo the Prussian's hands away, though such an interaction did leave him skeptical and confused - an expression that might have reflected their times as younger children. "I wish I coult say I am glat you haff not soffert too moch, bot it does not sount like your experience has been well. You look tiret." One of his hands reached to grab an available spot of dark fabric from Gilbert's grip, making sure that his scarf was not coming out of place. The delight and festivity of a costume party might already have died out, but his scarf - even if it wasn't the one he usually wore - was still important. "I am not sure whether sleepink out here or insite is safer-- either I coult leaff you alone or we go ant fint somwhere better."

[Prussia]

Perhaps less concerned over the possibility that his brain had been devoured by a worm, Gilbert shrugged off the Russian's observation with a casual shrug. He'd given up trying to figure out what the rules of this place were; just when he thought he was starting to work it out, another curve ball came flying at him. "You'd think it would have. Who can say? I don't remember any of it. Arthur would probably provide greater insight into it -- if he was actually there, and it wasn't all just made up in my mind."

Getting back to sleep didn't seem likely. The Prussian was too highly charged for it now. All that waited for him behind his eyelids would probably be another nightmare. He swayed his body forward to move from the pile of scraps that had been his temporary bed. "This place seemed the least likely to have lots of bad things hanging around. No real sign of people, either. I'm limited on who I can buddy up with lately, and few of them would care to hang around while I get some shut eye."

He kept his grip on Ivan's scarf. Not tugging, no. Simply maintaining a link until his instincts could decide whether the Russian was really here or imagined. He began to friction the texture of fabric between two fingers to test it for further evidence. This wasn't the first time they'd stood together like this. Gilbert's brain tried to helpfully supply a memory for his cognizance. When was it? Had to have been back when that damned midget was trying to expand France's territory.

They'd fought together, the two of them, him and Ivan. Standing side by side against Napoleon's army -- in the mud, and the snow, and the freezing temperatures. The battle wasn't glorious, not to his recollection. Gilbert squinted, trying to recollect if they had retreated from the elements into a stable like this. Maybe if there were a fire nearby. Ivan with a rifle in his hands, commenting on how he'd doubted the effectiveness of such a new weapon. And the Russian looked exhausted as hell even with a smile on his face but didn't complain even when Gilbert was resting on him so heavily.

He shook his head to clear it. Ivan's scarf was dropped out of his hand. Those memories were from a time far removed from the present; there were plenty of other battles between then and now where he and Ivan were on opposite sides. Fresher scars to reflect on. Gilbert shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans. "I wouldn't be happy if you were going through hell. Or if you'd suffered agonizing treatment from a monster. I don't get off on people's misery -- especially when I'm not the one making them miserable. Takes all the fun out of it. And for the record, I'm tired as hell. So if you wanna go wandering off in search of a cozy spot to sleep, I'm not going to stop you. If you'd prefer that I went with you to do it, then I'm cool with that too. Safer if I'm watching your back and you're watching mine."

Gilbert pinched the gun better under the loop of his arm. "Though you don't look all that rested yourself. Sure you don't want to take a quick power nap here while I wait? Might be safer than trying to get back to the house unrested. I don't mind keeping watch over you."

[Russia]

"I think you are still too caught op in thinkink everyone is an illusion," he commented, deflecting attention away from the fact that he had once done the same. It was not willingly; the fate of his sisters had been questioned. Just one hint that Gilbert was truly there was enough to let Ivan's mind rest on the matter. He could tell by expression that the Prussian was still troubled, be it by his nightmare or such similar thoughts having planted themselves into his mind. "Ant why think that way? I woult be very happy to see another face. I know there are many others with os, so it feels happier to think that everyone is real."

Tension from Gilbert's grasp on his scarf slowly fled. If that's what the Prussian was comfortable with holding, then he supposed he could adjust to the connection. He wouldn't have realized how much he missed human connection until it was actually there, just in his reach. Gilbert was correct about there being scarce signs of life in particular areas, especially those that were scattered about the outskirts of the Manor. "Now you know someone who will care to stick arount with you! I think every place has bat thinks everywhere, even those that we cannot see - so people trost this jost as little as they trost each other. Which is a little opsettink." It was like he had just sealed a temporary alliance of sorts between himself and the albino, completely assuming that the other man didn't wish to send him away. That first statement constructed a subtle promise that he trusted Gilbert. Given how strongly Ivan sought company, perhaps that wasn't surprising.

His staring was curious, but he didn't question what it was Gilbert was thinking about. A twist of the Russian's body and a turn of his head set his gaze behind them, checking to see that the stables were still abandoned. He turned back upon feeling a lack of strain on his scarf, listening rather attentively to what the other had to say. He fought the urge to touch that dark fabric a second time, feeling that its snug fit around his neck had gone unchanged.

"Sleep?" Of course, everything else that the Prussian spoke was taken into consideration. His smile was most pleased by that slip of kindness, which was not too gracefully worded - but Ivan would never stall over such a detail as that. Nice words were nice words. "I do not want to fint company jost to sleep. What if they are gone when I wake?" Quickly dismissed was that idea, his blond head shaking. Ever ready to direct concerns away from his own state of health, Ivan continued on. "I will keep in mint now that you want me to be well here. Goot~ Ant if you are sayink it woult be fon to make your own misery for me, I woult not appreciate that attempt."

An idea had popped into the Russian's mind not too long ago. His eagerness to let it out was not too well hidden. "You see, I woult like to take you with me. I am not stayink here for rest. What if I take you to somewhere where we can both be guardet?" His eyes lowered quickly to Gilbert's gun and back, vague as to what he was suggesting. "It might be a walk. I am sure I will not pass out alonk the way."

[Prussia]

There was so much cheerful optimism pouring out of Ivan that it made Gilbert tired all over again. His mind was too sluggish to keep up with all the words that came spilling from the Russian's mouth, especially when his brain was trying to helpfully supply translations to him in his native tongue, Russian, and the English that they were speaking together. Another wide yawn split the albino's face as he raised a fist to rub at an eye, stubbornly grumpy. "Your company right now would be sleeping if you weren't being so loud. Not everyone here is as big and as strong and as national as you."

Even as the complaints left his mouth, Gilbert was slinging the gun around on his shoulder to rest against his back. He felt safer traveling with it that way. The terrain wasn't trustworthy and the last thing he wanted to do was end up shooting anything by accident if he tripped. A sullen expression had anchored onto his face as the Prussian edged his way around the Russian's bulk to head for the doors of the stable that were still ajar. Ivan might have preferred to be the one leading them but Gilbert was going to take the opportunity to be in charge while he still could.

"If you've got a place that you think is fortified enough that we don't have to be so on guard, then I'm cool with going there with you. Since you're convinced that you don't need rest then neither do I. I'll walk all night."

He was envious of Ivan's stamina. It wasn't anything he had for himself anymore. Just because he couldn't possibly keep up with the Russian like that didn't mean he wasn't determined to try. Gilbert pushed the creaking wooden door open to step outside into the colder air beyond. He got about that far on his march before recalling the fact that he had no idea of where they were headed. An accusing look went over his shoulder to the shadowed figure of Ivan inside the stables.

A hand planted on his hip, as the Prussian's foot started to tap an impatient rhythm on the ground. "Well? Are you coming or not? If you're that eager for us to go then let's go. I don't want to be out here any longer than I have to." His sour expression twisted up into a devilish smirk. Gilbert's hand moved from his hip to extend out, palm facing the doors of the stables as he beckoned his fingers. "I'll even hold your hand if you're scared. You can rely on me to protect you. And I'll make sure you don't pass out along the way."

[Russia]

He wanted to dote on that sleepy expression, to mock Gilbert for the adorable way which he yawned just then. A grumpy Prussian was nothing unfamiliar to Ivan, as much as he'd wish the white-haired man weren't dealing with him so stubbornly right now. It could have been worse. It was much worse, in fact, when they were living together. Gilbert was nearly impossible to deal with then. "Lout?" His tone indicated offense. As if out of paranoia, Ivan's voice did drop a touch lower in volume. "I do not see what beink national has to do with it. There might be worms waitink in that hay to eat you again. You might soffer sleepink alone if your company was not here." A very firm and suitable comeback, Ivan thought. He wasn't going to allow the Prussian to guilt him over anything.

It further pleased him that Gilbert had stowed the gun away somewhere safer. If anything, he wouldn't want the man to use it where they were going. Their destination was a delightful secret that only Ivan knew - that fact alone was what made the Russian so eager. Carefully watching each of the albino's movements, it came to his attention that his offer was accepted - all the more reason to excite the taller man. Gilbert's claim as leader was not objected to. That aforementioned fact that only Ivan knew the path would not change no matter how Gilbert saw fit, and he imagined the man would come to terms with that shortly.

"We will be fine," he said in another stretch of reassurance. Of course he never knew whether that was really true, but it always made for an easy excuse. That way Gilbert would not fuss over the Russian's lack of rest, nor will Ivan concern over his decision not to return to sleep. It wasn't that they were putting sleep off for much longer - when they arrived, surely they'd be able to slumber in peace. That was entirely the taller nation's plan.

Oh, perhaps that excitement had gotten the best of him. Ivan stood there with that same smile on his face, mentally reassuring himself over how well this trip would go. Violet eyes snapped forward to note the Prussian's impatient stance, just in time to see an outstretched hand. The comment that went along with that gesture outright irked the Russian, and soon did that smile falter - no, he couldn't let anything bring him down that much. "Impatient? I was not plannink to jost stant arount in here, silly," he responded, promptly masking that hurt pride and the fact that he had been briefly spacing out.

Needless to say, Gilbert's offered hand went untouched as the Russian hurried his way out the door. "I woult loff to holt it if you are scaret," he countered, head turning this and that way to get a feel of their surroundings. Yes, he should remember the correct way from here. His body turned away from the stables, letting that mocking offer stand as he began to walk forward. "Thank you for protection, bot I belieff you haff recogniset well enoff that I am big ant stronk, hm?" There was crunching underfoot, which Ivan somehow found more comforting than the previous creaking of doors and floorboards. Even so, this was not his first walk in the dark - not even around these premises. Nighttime never spooked him, nor did any physical body of the manor. Their presences were nearly along the lines of the ghosts which resided across his own home.

The walk was lengthy - he saw that coming. Legs grew fatigued and his feet were sore within their boots, but he told himself that their destination was worth it. Both the manor and stables were far behind them, and what lay ahead was a plethora of trees and approaching fog. I think this is where she likes to stay. 'She' remained only in Ivan's thoughts, as the Russian had neglected to mention to Gilbert that they were going to meet someonething. "Now I want you to keep your gon on your back as it is," he warned, cautious eyes sliding aside to the man and then back forward. He was ignoring the drowsiness which coursed through his head, beckoned by the moist air and cool temperature to lay down and finally rest; that could all wait just a moment longer. Seeking a hint of black fur was Ivan's priority - surely a bear her size couldn't be missed.

[Prussia]

Make no mistake, Gilbert wasn't disappointed that his offered hand went ignored. He was perfectly fine having it rebuked. Holding hands was better suited for people in relationships, all romantic lovey-dovey, and he was very far from such with Ivan. Pale hands were shoved into the pockets of his hoodie instead as the Prussian went hurrying to catch up with the Russian, his feet working double time to keep up with the strides of long legs. "Big and strong doesn't necessarily mean 'invulnerable'. I've seen lots of big and strong guys fall in battle. Even if you believe that you're unbeatable, there is always something waiting to come along that's on a whole new level.

And don't get me wrong -- I'm not scared," Gilbert added hastily, speaking up in his own defense. "This place should be scared of me. They say that you should never approach a wild animal that feels cornered or trapped. Considering how long I've been stuck wandering this location, it's lucky that I haven't been more destructive."

His line of talk continued in that vein for the entirety of the trip. Being out in the open creeped him considerably. Having Ivan at his side, this remote from anyone else, was also causing anxiety for him. Gilbert knew that their history was old history in these modern days; yet for all of his patchy memories, those were still predominant in the darker corner of his past associations. The Prussian nearly ran into Ivan when the Russian spoke. He squinted up at him in confusion, red eyes quizzical. "Vas? Why? Are you afraid I'm going to shoot without having a reason?"

It made him feel slighted. As unpredictable as he could be, Gilbert hardly ever acted out to harm another person without good cause. He stood there sullenly, face expressive as ever, to scan the area around them. All he could detect was fog. It was just a shade off from the uneven puffs of his breaths, having exerted himself for the trek here. Gilbert had an instinctive feeling that for all of his blindness they were not alone. He had to keep Ivan's warning in his head just to stop himself from reaching for his weapon.

The Prussian edged backwards until his spine was touching securely to Ivan's arm. History or no, he trusted the man at his back more than anything else that might be waiting for them out here in the mists. Gilbert's eyes sharpened to try honing in on what phantoms of motion he thought he witnessed in the surrounding area. His ears were pricked by the sound of approaching steps, shuffling and too heavy for a human. "Schiesse! What is it? What's out there?"