They watched each other. Two souls, quite similar, stared at each other. Nicanora cleared her throat, taking in a deep breath before letting it out. Zaltana watched her, narrowing her eyes. Her tail lashed. The human almost flinched at the sound, before the wolf took over and growled instead.
"Well?" Zaltana said, "It's late. Why did you call me?"
Nicanora pushed the paper over to her.
Zaltana looked down at it, before she smirked.
"So? What if Germany was captured?" Zaltana let out a sick chuckle. Nicanora had been told her schemes when she was first returned- she had plans that nobody besides the two of them knew about, "Have you gone soft, Nika?"
"No," she growled, before shaking her head, "I was speaking with Ivan today."
"Wow. He occasionally has good ideas- so, speak."
The mountain range leaned back in her chair, her eyes deadly and daring. In the yellow light, her horns looked particularly malicious.
"He told me something I hadn't yet thought of," Nicanora looked over to her medallions of loyalty, as well as her fathers. Zaltana followed her gaze, before leaning her arms on her desk, "what if they're trying to recreate the NAZIs?"
Zaltana's ears went back at the mention of them, and she pushed herself up.
"Then Israel is in the safest place he can be right now."
"No- well, I mean-" she sighed, "what if they're trying to be as conservative as possible. Make countries go back hundreds of years."
"Then a whole lot of them would become kids messing around."
"I mean in procession," Nicanora growled. Zaltana wasn't taking her seriously, "destroy women's movements, stop pride, make slavery legal again."
"Slavery is legal: haven't you heard of prisons, ever?"
"I mean on a large scale," she deadpanned.
"Overcharging drug crimes is a large scale," Zaltana said, "do you get where I'm going?"
"No."
"This country is very liberal in policy," she pointed at the medallions on her wall, "you know what I mean. Women are slowly losing power in the country, slavery was never illegal, and most people only support pride out of pity. They aren't trying to make NAZIs. They're trying to make the countries match the governments. Destroy the opposition they represent through their thousands or hundreds of years of living."
Zaltana sighed, "In the 1800s, Alfred would wear 'women's' clothing. What does that mean?"
"The countries are not... the government. Nor the people- are they the culture? What are they?"
"They're people, alright," Zaltana said, "representatives of what can become. Unchanging change. A natural form of true peace. A war torn catalyst of violence. They are nothing. They are everything. They are of magic and they are magic. Do you get it?"
"They... were imagined?"
"Yes, as was I," she looked over at those medallions, "we only exist because people felt energy where we were and we were not and gave that energy a name and a form. We die when that energy changes, or fade away when it does."
Nicanora watched the old woman push herself back into her seat, her white hair yellow and blue in the bad lighting. Zaltana sighed, and her voice was a growl.
"They're trying to make my little brothers a monument to America herself. Remove their history, their loves and hates and bonds, and make them into what they believe they should be."
"What about Germany?" Nicanora said, "Alfred has healed. Tala is useless now. She's been sleeping for the past twelve hours."
"Get him by yourself," that was an order. Even though Zaltana wasn't technically her superior, she knew to listen to her, "Drive to where he is being kept, so you can feel the energy shift as you pass between the states. Try to disconnect the three or four energies you will feel from each other. Separate the one energy that will always be around. Call Summer by her name. Only a human can do that now, with Winter's frost not extending this far down, and Alfred not being able to remember anything. Go, soon."
Zaltana stood up. Her movements were abrupt yet full of purpose. She had no reason to be graceful, and so she wasn't, leaving the room with Nicanora alone. The human whistled, slowly, checking the time.
One more cup of coffee and a two day drive to Florida. Say no more.
She pulled on her coat and grabbed her car keys out of her desk, leaving the room with a flick of the light switch.
Ivan yawned, early in the morning, feeling Alfred's body against him- but also another weight. He smiled at the sight of his daughter, Oklahoma. The girl was gripping onto his nightshirt, snoring without a care in the world. He was happy that she was back.
He looked at the clock- it read seven in large red letters, and he sighed. It wasn't as late as he thought- he'd just closed the window the night prior. He patted Alfred's side with a soft hand, the American whining and rolling over. Oklahoma, though, woke up when he pushed himself into a sitting position. She looked at him, confused, before smiling and hugging him.
He laughed as she said how much she had missed him and how glad she was that he was back. Alfred woke up after a few minutes of the happy child babbling, patting her on the head. She hugged him as well, and this time he didn't flinch as he was thoroughly assaulted by a happy child who was kept alone for too long.
"Nobody hurt you, did they?" Alfred asked, running his hands through her hair. She shook her head no.
"Nobody wanted to be near me because of my powers," she blew a small gust of wind at her father, knocking the air out of him to prove a point, "so the entire time I was just left alone. I don't want to be left alone anymore. I'm sorry I snuck in without waking one of you up."
"It's okay, baby," Alfred said, pulling him closer to her and resting her on his lap, "I know it can be scary, but you're okay now. Do you know if any of your other siblings are here and okay?"
"Um... Texas, Arkansas, and Missouri were in the same place as me. Does that count?"
"Yes, that does," Alfred said, "why don't you go wake up your siblings. I'm sure they haven't woken up yet, and I wanna see you all at breakfast."
"Um... Missouri can't walk. Both his like," she put her hand on her knee in a cutting motion, "he has no more lower legs."
"Then he can skip breakfast," there was a hint of worry in his voice, before he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "now go get dressed and wake up your siblings."
"Okay, mom!"
Oklahoma jumped up and ran out of the room. Alfred chuckled, her gaze following her. He looked over at him. Ivan held a hand out, sliding his fingers under his eye before cupping his cheek.
"How do you manage to look so beautiful in the mornings?" Ivan's voice was a deep rumble, and he pressed closer, planting a firm kiss to the Americans neck before allowing him to settle in his lap for a moment.
"Little bear?" it was a soft nickname from a long time ago. Ivan looked down at him, before tilting his head- there was a silent question in his eyes, he wanted to know what would have made Alfred say that nickname out of them all, "It's time to take a shower, you stink."
Alfred attempted to wiggle out of his grasp and he chuckled, no reserve or caution as he went limp above the other. While Alfred could easily push him off if he wanted, he just laughed and laid there, kissing the top of his head.
"C'mon, shower, and then breakfast," Alfred said, "I don't know how you've been able to wake up without eating something first, you never were able to do that before."
"I was worried about you," Ivan mumbled, "but now you can see, and things will get better. You'll remember."
Alfred smiled, reaching out to his neck. He hadn't bandaged it yet, and his scarf was hanging over the end of the bed. He ran his fingers along the scars, his touch as loving as his eyes were. Ivan looked at him. While the touch made his skin prick, it was okay, because Alfred wouldn't hurt him. Again. He wouldn't hurt him, again.
"Shower with me," Ivan purred. He heard Alfred giggle, and accepted that as a yes.
Nicanora knew summer, having been raised in rather hot and humid places: Cuba, Hawaii, Southern Nevada, and Southern Alabama. But she didn't know Summer. Zaltana had told her to feel the flow of energy as she crossed borders, the overlying energy, but there was so much energy in everything from the woods to the roads to the plains. Energy was everywhere. So you had to pay attention to what changed.
She knew the energies that emitted from each of the states. She knew the difference between Alfred and Conner.
Alfred had a wild, hungry energy. He was a glutton of the world, drawing any attempt at human life into a hole. He was death in the same way that a sleeping raccoon on the side of the road was roadkill- maybe not at the moment, but could be, depending on chance. If you looked at the abandoned places, you could see the older, wilder version of him drawing the bricks and wooden beams back into the earth.
Conner was different. Conner was a controlled, constant heat. If you held your hands for a few seconds, it would be warm. A few minutes, hot. Too long, and you've been burned. He didn't draw life back to him- he wasn't decay. He was closer to flaming ashes, a slow burning away.
The states were each different. Special in their own ways. Tennessee and Kentucky were both dry with a stark hint of fear. Alabama felt like an uncontrollable wildfire. Florida was cursed with the thick stench of terror and decay.
Summer was hot, and detached. Winter allowed things to die to renew, but Summer burned away the old to create life from the ashes. She had no cares for humanity, so she beat her whip whenever she pleased, whenever she could. Her energy was very similar to Alfred's, in the same way that Ivan's is similar to Winter.
When she got close to Germany's holding facility, she pulled on her thicker boots and went walking through the swamplands. She wondered how Alfred was doing now. If he wondered where she had gone. Nicanora hoped he didn't- people were in and out of the house all the time. If you began to worry about them leaving and returning and leaving and returning you never stopped thinking about it.
She separated Florida from Conner, and then Conner from Alfred, and then Alfred from Summer. Heat beat down on her neck as she looked up towards the sun, glaring.
"Summer," her energy was zapped just from that. Zaltana hadn't mentioned how tired it would make her feel- God, this was just like the first time she had done warding.
From the water and grass and ivy she came. As human as a whale is a horse.
"My Great Lady, I request you assistance, in helping to find a friend of your disciple," she bowed, getting onto her knee. She didn't show any displeasure when water from the moss began to seep into her pants.
"Who?" her voice was distant.
"Anowarakowa," she knew better than to say 'America'. That would make the Great Lady angry- she had lost many of her disciples as well as her chosen because of 'America'. Best just to say Turtle Island.
"Anowarakowa's friends?" Summer had grown closer, "He does not make friends. Do not lie to me. Why have you summoned me?"
"To rescue Germany, son of Germania."
"He is not in my bounds."
"With the globe warming as it is, one day he might be," she didn't look up from her spot on the ground, "Anowarakowa will be plagued by Winter's might. Germany is a good replacement. Second best is better than nothing."
"What if the humans figure out how to reverse the effect?"
"Do you think they will?"
Summer smiled, it was full of malice, "You're a smart girl. And I am so very weak. Maybe you could figure out how to please me in another way. A better way. This is your last chance. I will not be swayed by words."
Nicanora drew a knife from her belt, not daring to show her displeasure. Blood seeped into the earth. She'd been smarter than cutting her underarm or palm- she would be fighting later, blood dripping from her forearm. She set her intentions in her athame, in her blood, as the wet moss began to foam. Summer drank it in.
"Good girl," the spirit hummed. It sounded like whistling wind. Pollen dropped around her. She was thankful she wasn't allergic to it, "Very, very good."
"Will you aid me, My Dear Great Lady?"
But there was nothing. No spirit stood in front of her any longer. The moss soaked up her blood. She didn't curse, she didn't fight, she didn't stagger. Instead, she drew a line of blood back to her car, sewing the wound up with the first aid kit before driving away.
The facility was remote. No paved or dirt roads ran to it. You, instead, had to pay attention to where there were tire tracks between the plants.
When she got there, it was abandoned. No, not abandoned. The dead lay buried under vines and ivy and moss. Most carried disgusting burns. Others eyes had disintegrated. Others decayed alive. Others had died with their teeth gripping into the plants.
She pushed open the doors. They were rusted, and creaked angrily at being moved.
The halls were as bad as the outside, except for the fact that they smelled. The piss and shit and vomit and bile was normally an afterthought of a fight, but this fight was over in seconds. Moments, maybe. She had been late to the fun.
She waved a hand in front of her face and continued on. The facility was unnaturally hot.
In the main hall, Germany sat, asleep. On his lap lay the Mariana Islands. The baby cooed occasionally, but she was saved from the onslaught of violence. Now, she was just uncomfortable in her stuffy blankets in the warm building.
Germany woke up when she stepped out of the hallway, looking around wildly.
"What happened?" he noticed the baby in his lap and held her closer, on impulse.
"Doesn't matter," she spun on her heel, "let's go. The car is waiting, and it's a long drive."
Under her breath, she praised the Great Lady.