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One may complain all they want about the Russian Federation, but in the eyes of Varvara of Vladimir, some must be regarded in respect.
Vladimir had all the reason to harbour any sort of distaste against her country. Really, much more than any would expect, from someone who had been under Muscovite servitude since the fourteenth century.
She would forgive all who think that she would find her land's Personification a saint. Reality would dictate that whoever thought that way knew nothing of her history.
But still, that didn't mean Vladimir liked every part of Russia, nor did she, in turn, disliked.
In the words of her former country's son's capital—or simply, Tver—Russia was an enigma.
In all the history that she has lived through, she still was unable to completely decipher what Russia was.
You might think that someone with the epithet of 'The Mad Eyes' would see what Russia was from that perspective of madness. But, no, Vladimir's specific kind of madness was unlike Russia's. Hence, she was unable to do so.
A pity, really. But it seemed to her that she was the one closest to understanding what that woman was. She wasn't even entirely sure as to why it had to be her.
In all of Vladimir's history as a city subservient to that woman who called herself 'The Merciful', she had found herself familiar with that woman's usual changing behaviour. Well, no. Changing thoughts—she didn't believe that anything substantial had changed from her behaviour despite everything.
Perhaps one of the more drastic ones were the differences between Yelena of Rus Land and Yekaterina of Moscovia. Another contending feature would perhaps be Yekaterina of Russian Empire with Sofiya of Soviet Russia, but it would be unfair to say that the change was as drastic as the former.
Where one was a change in ideology, the more severe was a change in one's feelings.
After all, how was it that, in one moment, that woman loved her children, but in the other, was willing to kill them?
Of course, there were circumstances that Vladimir was aware of—but saying that she understood was another thing entirely. She didn't.
What was there for her to see, if the mere image of Russia was blurred by the woman herself? She couldn't do anything about it, unless her own country decided to tear down her own walls.
It's been a gradual process. A slow one, but definitely something no Personification had ever expected from a person like Russia. Vladimir had the same questions as everyone else, as to what exactly happened in that decade for her to act this way now.
If even Veliky Novgorod wasn't told about it, the chance of anyone else doing so was slimmer. That included Vladimir.
Russia was known by many names in her... several lives.
The Varangian, by Rus Land, who was as the name described came down from the Varangian Sea. Or the Baltic Sea, nowadays.
The Usurper, by Moscovia, who had killed her own children and took upon the throne as the sole ruler of the lands. Those which had previously went under the Horde.
The Merciful, by Russian Empire, who had a different understanding of mercy than the rest. Merciless to the Tatars, but she still called it mercy.
The Blasphemous, by Soviet Russia, who forfeited her predecessor's religion. Yet, she still behaved in that same lack-of-mercy manner.
And to Vladimir?
That woman was just Russia. 'The Pathetic', sure, but still Russia.
She wasn't sure what remained unchanging with her, but in the end, that something had made Russia into the kind of person she was now. So, what was her reason?
"Lena," Vladimir took the initiative, which had made every city's head turn to her way. Including the person she intended. She took her time to continue, her eyes scrutinising the albino, before she spoke, "Why?"
Vladimir could see practically everyone stare at her in disbelief. Tver in particular sighed, before her nose scrunched as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Moscow even looked rather dumbfounded at that vague question. Nizhny Novgorod looked entirely unimpressed. Veliky Novgorod was outright judging her choices. "Why what?" Russia asked, head tilted at the question.
She didn't speak much, so all their reactions had their merits. Still, they're more surprised over the fact that Vladimir made a rookie mistake for this type of question. Well, did she, considering Russia was indulging her right now? "Are you so pathetic?" She asked with a monotonous voice.
Both Russia and Vladimir ignored the incredulous expressions everyone had. Though Moscow's absolutely befuddled one was a wonder to Vladimir in particular. That was hard to miss, even if the woman had began to be more expressive nowadays. "Hm," Russia let out an unassuming sound. "I don't think there's much to say on that."
"Say it still." Vladimir practically ordered. All the cities present didn't bother hiding how aghast they were at her audacity. Russia seemed pleased as ever. Happy, even. If that weird smiling face could ever be called happy.
"Honestly, it's a rather simple reason," Russia spoke, as she managed to rapt everyone's attention back to her, rather than Vladimir. "Hm, if I say that you'll find out in under a decade, I think none of you would like that," she paused. "Let's just say that it has something to do with your eyes, no?"
Vladimir frowned at the reference of her title. "Why would that make you pathetic?"
"I feel like the question you should ask is what I asked," Russia chuckled, her eyes showing a rare glint of something in them. "You've felt it once. I know I'm being vague now, but I'll say that that's enough. Even Yelizaveta went through that," oh? What exactly might that even be? A feeling that both she and Moscow felt. "I suppose Alla too. Soon."
Tver looked like she wanted to ask, but when Russia rose from her seat, that was a clear sign to everyone that she wouldn't be elaborating on her answer. Typical.
"I hope my answer would suffice for now, Varvara." Her smile widened slightly.
Hm, Vladimir would certainly be the judge for that.
But for now, she could conclude that this reason was what remained static in the tumult of the sea that is Russia's being.
She just needed to figure out what it was.
Vladimir sighed. In the end, Russia still kept being the same vague woman as ever. She wondered when she'd start to be more direct in these situations.
She knew the answer, and the answer was never.