༻𓊈 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𓊉༺

༻𓊈𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞.𓊉༺

Subtly smiling, Prussias' only wing moved to weakly cling to his body. His arms moving to wrap around his stomach. He stood still, his body barely shaking. The man turned his head, looking behind himself. "He is so fat." He thought to himself, giggling. Though, suddenly his expression changed. His only eye, his left eye, narrowed - Seeing two.. Things, dashing through the snow ahead of Soviet. Most likely anti-tank dogs, Caucasian Shepherd. Greeat.

They were quick. It only took seconds, before the two Shepherds' had joined the six men. Prussia, had pulled a knife from his boot, holding it tightly in his left hand. He is left dominant.

The dogs, upon arrived, bombarded the German. Both of the dogs took one of Prussias' ankles into their mouths', before dragging him down to the cold, icy, snowy ground. Blood gushed into the once white snow, that now glistened like a ruby would.

The men, stepped back, two on each side of Prussia. They watched him struggle. Watched him cry out in pain, his blood branching out further into the snow, almost like a tree. It would almost reach their feets. Before, one of the soldiers, looked away. He- Always looked away, it was weird. He was also one of the two soldiers that always ended up having to repair his wounds.

The others, though, watched, as the dogs' teeth penetrated deep into the mans' soft flesh. The Shepherd on Prussias' left ankle lodged his teeth down further, before shaking its head vigorously, performing a kill shake. This broke larger gashes into the Germans' ankle.

Meanwhile, the dog on his right ankle did not do this. It actually barely bit down into his ankle. So, Prussia took in a sharp breath. Pain shot through both of his legs, slowly spreading to his whole body. He had to do something, anything, to get at least one of these dogs off his body. Right?

After a moment gathering his strength, the monarchist leaned forward, before using his right hand to start punching the dog in the snout, right on its nose, trying to break the dog from his ankle. Which worked, after he also started using his left hand.

"Fuck!.. Fuck.. Oh my fucking god.." He yelled, yet he had no time to spare to weep over his ankle yet.

With his right hand, he grabbed the dog by the back of its neck, his left stabbing directly into the middle of the dogs' neck. This, diving the knife straight into the animals' jugular. Killing it, immediately. The dog yelped loudly, before whining, its' blood oozing onto the left hand of Prussia.

Gasping, he yanked his knife out, throwing the dog to his side. Now just trying to pry the dog on his left ankle off, his knife he had tossed accidentally with the dog. Just barely out of reach.

Soviet, had heard this yelp, which made him cover the thirty- Maybe forty feet distance within seconds. Upon pushing the two soldiers in front of himself, out of his way, he froze. "What the fuck." Had been his only thought, seeing as his top dog, 'Liz,' had been dead. Thrown to the side, like some kind of piece of meat.

The dictator took in a deep breath, he had to remain calm. At least somewhat, keep his composure at least a little bit. Shaking his head, the Russian snapped his fingers. Calling the other dog off of Prussia, he'd wave it to go sit beside one of the soldiers. It obeyed its' owner, as he walked to the bleeding German. As he crouched down, Soviet moved one of his large, veiny hands to Prussia's smooth, silky chin. Like the rest of his skin. Before making him look up at himself. The two, created eye contact. Soviet cleared his throat, his voice came out rather aggressive and raspy.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Prussia? You already left the palace, with company over - Like every fucking time!" The Russian took a deep breath, smiling, before shaking his head. His hand that once gently tilted the others chin to look at him, moved to grab a fistfull of his black, snow glazed hair. Keeping the Germans' head raised. "You're so lucky- lucky that you're pretty. Like a girl. Unlike that useless, pitiful Nazi.."