Bluetommy — Roleplayer Guild

(Collab with @Nerevarine)
Moscow

Russia's personal home was truly a sight to behold. The three large domes that compromized the ceiling were magnificently colorful, swirling together reds, greens and whites into a geometric spectacle of architecture. 

The insides of her home were certainly no less exquisite, with many walls decorated in masterfully painted murals and depictions of Russia's feats in battle and wars. Further into the palace, one would find the great woman herself, sitting at a decently sized table, a bottle of liquor and a couple of glasses accompanying her. This was a special day, for she expected company soon. Family to be exact.

Though this family was not exactly pleased to be leaving his house. It wasn't like Serbia thought that meeting with his allies wasn't necessary, it's just the fact that he preferred a safe environment, not that those were exactly common for someone who spent half of his time drunk and the other half asleep.

The massive and extravagant castle that Russia called a home brought a sense of familiarity to Serbia that he didn't understand. Perhaps it was the fact that Russia considered herself the Third Rome and Serbia had been quite well acquainted with the second, or perhaps it was just the familiar Slavic atmosphere. Whatever it was, Serbia found himself struggling not to smile, a large change for certain.

Walking up to the door, Serbia found himself unsure what to do, it was so ornate and massive, he thought he might break it just by touch alone. Looking down to the bottle of wine he had brought as a gift, he found himself tempted to pull the cork and take a swig. After a few moments considering, he decided it would be impolite to do such a thing to family, tucking it under his arm and knocking gently on the door with his knuckles, ignoring the slight pain on his weak fingers.

As if on command, the large doors sung back slowly and omniously, as two men, clad in dark green and burgundy uniforms looked on at Serbia. 

"Madame Rossiya awaits for you in her personal chamber, at the far end of the main corridor", the taller of the two guards said, pointing in its direction. 

Russia reacted in mild excitement to see her cousin once again. "Serbija! It has been too long since last we spoke. Come, sit, sit. Tell me about things, how is Montenegro?" Words flowing out of her mouth, yet still managing to come off as slow and cold. Russia took to pouring a glass of Vodka for Serbia. She didn't ask, but she knew that she didn't need to.

Russia knew why he was here. And taking a drink of the glass she had poured. She looked him straight in the eye as she waited for him to talk, an unspoken signal that she was aware that he needed her help, and she was ready to make good on the promise she had made with him long ago to help in whatever he needed. She was always there to protect her family, no matter how distant they might be. 

Well, unless they had something she wanted, as Poland was unlucky enough to find out.

Serbia entered the room, suddeny feeling very small in the presence of his cousin. Pulling back a chair, he sat with a thump, smirking slightly as Russia poured him a drink.

"No need for that, cousin," he replied to her gesture, holding up his gift and planting it on the table. "It's good to bring a gift when meeting family, is it not?" He asked, half as a jest and half seriously, he had asked around on what was good to bring when meeting someone who you hadn't seen in some time, and he had struggled to get a response. It seemed that he had developed a reputation.

"Montenegro's good...er...well, cousin. My apologies, I haven't been in a formal meeting in quite some time," he stated nervously. That vodka was looking good right about now, but Serbia knew he needed to be lucid for what they were to be discussing.

"Of course, I'm sure you know that I'm not here to discuss our relatives... well, in a way, yes, I am, but it's not... hmm, I'm struggling to find words here, perhaps I should get practice more often," he joked, lying, he couldn't wait to be back home and sleeping, though even when he got home, he probably wasn't going to be getting any sleep.

"I'm sure you know that my very freedom is owed to you and your other Entente friends, but there are still some who aren't free. The Balkans are a powder keg, and I seem to be the match primed to light it and cause all hell to break loose. I've plans to free Bosnia from the Austrian yoke, and I need your assurance that you will help me in setting our brother free." he said, suddenly stone-faced and monotone.

Russia raised on hand, motioning for another one of her servants to carry over vessals for the wine that Serbia had been so gracious to bring to her. It was rare for such a drink to come into Eastern Slavic lands, unfit as they were for growing and cultivating such a thing. 

Russia listened, face unchanging, blank and serious as Serbia pleaded his case about Bosnia. 

"Austria, a mountain in central Europe" Russia uttered out, moving her hands into a triangular shape, locking her fingers together. "A mountain of dust and gravel, but a mountain none the less. And, my dear cousin, when you need to cut through a mountain, you light your powder, and blow that first hole into it, and you dig like hell from that point on."

Russia stood up, quickly finishing the rest of her vodka in one quick motion and handed the glass off to an attendant. "If you are to be the match to set off the keg, than I will gladly be the steel driver cutting the precious gems that are trapped within the mountain's interior." She shot back a face, serious as always. "Indeed, I will help you in freeing Bosnia." Russia extended a hand to her cousin, as she called over another servant of hers. 

"Ivan! Go, and tell the patriarch to begin the process of prayers. Pray for the downfall of Austria, the downfall of Germany, and the damnation of the muslim Turks. Have them all plead with God not just to destroy their lands, but to render the very soil they stand on unusable ever again, so that they may never rise up once more." 

Russia smiled as the page ran off, and she returned to her seat. 

Serbia gladly took his cousin's hand in his, listening with bated breath as she breathlessly described the actions she would take to bring down the imperialist regimes that held sway over all of Europe. He smiled widely, for what was perhaps the first time in years, as their alliance finally entered its final form. Grabbing the cross on his chest, he held it up to the sky, before clasping his hands and offering a short prayer to the holy god who ruled all men on Earth.

"Let it be so! Amen! Amen!" He yelled happily, gulping down the offered vodka in one motion. After a long, vodka-induced sigh, he chuckled to himself.

"Let this be the day that we free all slavs who are ruled over by others, I will assure it is so, and by the grace of god it will be!" He continued in nigh-hysterical glee, before an idea visibly came over his mind.

"The southern Slavs have long been given no say in the affairs of the great empires of Europe, it is my wish that the Slavs finally get that say. One great kingdom, one land of none but the Slavs and the Slavs alone, a Jugoslavija if you will," he spoke with a hand on his chin.

"For a race as great as ours deserves better than what we get, and I will hold that belief until the sun shines no more," he finished with a pound on the table. "I hope you believe the same, cousin."

Russia nodded sagely. "I do indeed cousin. Long have I sought to see our people in the strength we so urgently deserve. I was lucky to have my grandfather unite the East Slavs as one, and I count my blessing every day that I was so fortunate. But, if you were to create this Jugoslavija, then I can assure you that I would guarantee its independence and aid in securing its place in the international scene." Russia may have been a quarter Mongol, but she was certainly 100% allied with her slavic family. 

"I should hope, that we are able to liberate our Western family, Pol'sha, Cheshskaja, and others from the hands of the lunatic Germany." She spoke, conveniently ignoring that she held onto a piece of Poland herself. "When war comes, I will ensure that Germany is defeated personally. I shall rip Prussia clean from her clutches, and return it to the Poles as it belongs."

Russia poured herself a glass of wine as she spoke. 

"France will be more than willing to help me. My ally is a long enemy of the Hun. And with France comes Britain, and with Britain, well, much of the world."

Russia knew that this war was essentially already over. Herself, France, Britain and whatever allies the two of them would force into the war. There was no way that two degenerating empires of yesteryear could possibly be of use to Germany in this conflict.

Serbia nodded happily with almost every word Russia said, a manic grin settling on his face. Standing suddenly, he again grabbed the cross on his chest and turned his head to the sky, before looking back at his cousin.

"We must be ready, my plan to free Bosnia is no more, now, it's a plan to free us all. This war, no matter how easy it will be, will set us all free from the meddling of all of the empires that continue to delegate their actions to their conquered slaves. I am endlessly grateful to have your aid, good cousin, and I am sure my brothers will be just as grateful," he said, giving a bow to his cousin.

"No matter how weak the sick men are, we do have to remember how powerful the child of Prussia truly is, I'm certain at this point she could defeat both you and France if England doesn't join in aiding us, I know, I've seen her fighting, and it's unlike anything that I've ever seen," he stated gravely. "But I cannot be certain at this point where Italy's allegiance lies, they consider themselves a Central Power, but I have yet to see them and the others together, perhaps the son of Rome is getting cold feet," he japed darkly.

Russia laughed audibly at her cousin's comments on Italy. "I have heard of his problems. He says communists are taking his time." she scoffed at the thought, "I can only say that I would never be so weak as to allow mere communists to over take my desires." 

"But, yes, Britain is vital here. I will go to his home and personally state my case for why he should, nay, he must join with us." Russia replied, slamming her fist into an open hand. "I should begin the preparations. Unless you have more to discuss with me, I should begin the journey to London."

Serbia shook his head. "No, cousin, I think we've covered it all, though I would like to share a drink with you, if that's no issue," he smiled, holding up the wine bottle he had bought from France.

Russia smiled, "Of course, I always have time for that." Pouring a drink, Russia held her glass of wine. 

"A toast, to freedom, to brotherhood, and to victory!"

"To freedom, to brotherhood, and victory!" Serbia responded with a yell, holding up the bottle before pouring himself a glass and taking a deep drink.

Home of Serbia and Montenegro

@OfWindAndRain@Dannyrulx@SillyGoy@Lady Selune

Serbia stood, one eye twitching madly, buzzing about in its socket like a trapped bug. Montenegro wrapped himself in the blankets, shaking heavily and looking on with dread as Serbia seethed. He barely seemed to have listened to the lot of them, ignoring Japan's question about Austria's treatment of Bosnia and instead focusing on their denial, whether implied or explicit. His gloves rubbed against his saber as his hands ever tightened, letting out a loud rubber sound.

"None of you believe me, do you? I was right about the lot! All imperialist pigs, you disgust me!" Serbia yelled out. With one last dart of his bug-eyes, he seemingly sobered up from his rage, taking one deep breath and closing his eyes. "My apologies, it's the drink, heats your blood, I hope you understand," he apologized, deadpan.

Bringing over two bottles, Montenegro removed his cloak and stood at full height finally. The familial resemblance was uncanny, only aided by their similar military garb. They both took long gulps from the bottles and then turned on the gathering. It was an insane change, suddenly the shivering, weak, boy, became a man at least Serbia's equal in physical stature, it was obvious he had been feigning weakness to perhaps elicit sympathy, but now he saw no point.

"You all should leave." They said at the same time.

"It's obvious this isn't going anywhere, and frankly I'd hate to talk to you any longer than necessary." Serbia added.

"Don't hit yourselves on the way out." Montenegro snarled with an inhuman amount of acidity on his tongue.

"Until you get your heads out of your lovely hindquarters, I hope I never have to speak to you ever again, especially you... bird... thing." Serbia said, specifically addressing America with a look so confused it may have only existed before in the dreams of some talent-less writer. 

"I don't even know why we bothered, Russia would jump at the chance to aid us. Heh, and he's
the backwards one."

"To be honest, I had expected this, after you westerners stole the title of Roman Empire from my father."

"Er... that was the Frankish Empire, and he's dead."

"They all look the same to me."

With one final swig of his drink, Serbia smashed it against the ground and sat again.

"Unless you lot have anything else to say, I suggest you leave, I make a mean drunk."

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