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How many years has it been since Izborsk first became a Personification?
Ah, scratch that. He wasn't even sure when exactly he started to be one. What he did know, though, was that it only started because of himself meeting one person. So, let him reiterate his previous question in a much more accurate manner, then.
How many years has it been since Izborsk had met Russia?
Well, that he had no idea of. He could confidently say that it had been over a millennia full, but he couldn't provide the specifics at all.
It was because he had met her that he became a Personification.
Ah, no. It was because he was Staraya Ladoga's friend. He dragged himself and Belozersk to meet her. But still, that man only became a Personification because of Russia. So, it would still count in hindsight.
That was a thousand years ago. But today was the present.
What had changed?
You know, for once, at least she hadn't been wearing that old cloak anymore. That had practically been part of her wardrobe ever since they first met, and only stopped being worn entirely in the February Revolution.
That was a good change, because Izborsk could tell that that pelt held a meaning that no one understood.
But that thing had stayed for the longest time, regardless of everything. He knew he had breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't see it present on Petrograd Soviet's shoulders as it started winter.
Something brought his attention, when everyone claimed that the first thing Finland did being under Russian rule, was to look at Russia's clothes. He personally believed Finland was looking at the cloak.
He wondered what sort of meaning that cloak would hold to gain that sort of reaction. The knowledge that Finland was Russia's full-blooded sister came later, after all.
Maybe Finland knew exactly what that cloak stood for.
Which urged the question; what exactly made Soviet Russia put down that cloak after over a thousand years of wearing it? Had it truly been discarded, or had it just been replaced with something no one could see so blatantly?
Izborsk knew it hadn't ever discarded though. Because that woman had found something in those years, to have her drastically change to what she was now... well. Revert?
The Russia of now actually acted more like the one he first met, now that he thought about it. Rather, much more relaxed. When did this change start to happen again? He knew it was in the era of the Soviet Union, but the specifics were rather blurred.
Oh, yes. The moment she returned to politics, in 1980. Everything about her felt different from a decade ago.
Was that it? Was that the replacement that had always bothered him? Was that wolf skin always a sort of thing she clung to the past, and was why her sister had reacted so (apparently) negatively towards it?
Oh what was he even thinking about at this point.
All he wanted was for Russia to have a semblance of normalcy with her.
Not to have her turn into something worse, every time she'd come back, one that would always destroy her from the inside. Not to have everyone feel threatened at the fact that they didn't know anything about what Russia was thinking about. Russia was so different, yet so similar, back then, when they first met.
So... naïve?
"I'm not sure if I should like what you're thinking about." Russia's voice cut through Izborsk's thoughts, like a hot knife.
"And can you tell me what you think I'm thinking about?" Izborsk asked with a rather uninterested tone. Almost as if he could call her words as bluff, really. But he knew better. That woman was strange in ways he couldn't explain.
"No, I don't think I want to," Russia slumped in a way that made her look more tired than relaxed. Sleepy, actually. It was rather a peeve on how she kept looking like she had no sleep when she just slept for two days. "You tell me."
"I don't think I want to, then." Izborsk replied in a similar manner to how she did to him. She giggled at that.
She—
Hm.
She giggled at that?
"What?" He furrowed his brows.
"What?" The woman parroted back his own words. Though this time, it held less confusion and more curiosity.
"Why did you just do that?"
"I thought about something funny." Russia spoke, with the most serious face she could conjure up present. Even her smile was gone now, which was something he rarely saw in the first place.
"Should I be concerned?" His brow raised rather unintentionally.
She let out a quick hum. "No," her head tilted to the right a few degrees. "I'll be fine, so don't worry about me."
"Ah, so I should worry about myself?"
Russia chuckled rather ominously. "No, my old friend. Just worry about whether or not it would snow today."
"It's not the season right now." Izborsk audibly sighed at her words. Her face remained with that smug looking smile, knowing well that he had gotten her intention. "I get your point."
"Tell me something you had thought about, though."
The village paused. "I was wishing you'd stop being so self-destructive."
Russia replied with only a smile on her.
Izborsk's eye twitched at the lack of a unique response from her. "Your cheek would end me one day."
"I sure hope it wouldn't, you're rather fun to be around."
"I sure hope so." He mirrored.
Russia giggled again. All would certainly understand why he was as unnerved as he was now.