The air was damp, a thick fog surrounded the farm and faded into the surrounding forest. The air was also still and quiet. Small white dew covered flowers erupted from around the base of a fence post. The fence itself was worn past its limit. The wood had been decaying for years to the point mossy chunks were falling off. But for the disrepair it was mostly intact, mostly. A huge chunk of the fence was ripped to shreds by the ruthless wind and rain without any trees to protect it, like the barn did. The barn was protected by three huge elm trees that couldn't quite shelter the pastor's old fence.
While America glanced around, unsure of what to do with the box he was told to hold, Russia was assessing the damage.
"Блядь! (f*ck!)" He cursed.
America assumed that was a swear considering the situation and attempted to be positive. "S-so it isn't that bad right?"
All he received was a glare. Was it really that bad? I mean heck he wasn't allowed to do anything, let alone repair a fence, or swear for a matter of fact, but surely it's not that bad….?
"A-at least it's not the entire fence?" America attempted again, starting to get nervous at how upset the dragon was.
Please don't let me get eaten today, whatever is up there.
"Это может быть." (It might as well be.) He spat bitterly.
"Come on, we need to go to my workshop." He grabbed America's hand and just began to drag him.
"..wha-?" America was about to ask what was happening but remember he didn't necessarily want to die today. So he just let himself be dragged behind the barn. When fully behind the barn the dragon let go and held out his hand.
"Wha-????... OH THE BOX!" He pointed at the box he was holding as if something in his brain just clicked. "You want the box!"
"..."
Russia just gave him the 'what the f*ck' face.
"Oh yeah.." He stuttered embarrassedly, handing the small chest to him.
The dragon just shook his head and opened the box. Inside the box was some old gardening supplies, nails and a key? He took the rusted key and walked over to the other side of the back of the barn. Curious he watched as the dragon fumbled and opened the lock on a metal double door that was slanted into the ground.
Russia looked over at him expectantly as the doors opened. "You coming or no?"
"Uh… sure?"
He just nodded as America walked over.
"Just don't touch anything." He muttered before dropping into the hole. Looking down he noticed there was a rope ladder leading out and the drop was only a couple feet. At the bottom was polished stone and a light source, so he did the unreasonable thing considering his fears of being murdered, and dropped down.
Almost immediately he regretted it.
The floor was some sort of polished rock, the walls lined with oak planks. It wasn't small, but not big either. Especially considering that on one side huge scrap covered workbenches lined the wall with tools hung above them on the wall by white hooks and rope.
And on the other side…..
Weapons.
Lots and lots of weapons. All sorts too.
He immediately backed away from that side of the wall after noticing dry blood on some. Glancing at the end of the room there was another workbench with a lamp, this one Russia was digging through some of the drawers. Redirecting his eyes onto the weapons he felt a shiver go up his spine.
A-am I going to die here?
But despite the fear there was a strong morbid curiosity and he got a closer look at them. Getting a better look at them calmed his nerves. The blades didn't look like they moved for a century, the firearms didn't seem to be loaded, and the 'blood' he saw was actually a poor job washing a knife after cutting a tomato.
After calming his mind of total rational fears completely, he examined them even closer. Each was held up with golden decorative hooks instead of the rough white ones used for the tools, indicating they were important. They all were polished and cleaned except the one with tomato on it which had a coat of dust. And each and everyone was branded with a sickle and hammer in a star.
These must have been important for someone to brand them all-
There were hunting knives, all sorts of different and weird kinds of swords and guns along with a humongous open bear trap with three smaller ones inside it hanging on the wall.
I don't want to know or think about what that's meant to catch-
This collection was mounted on a solid piece of fine mahogany and was placed towards the center of the room, greatly contrasting with the oak.
Poor my ass. That fluffing fine mahogany.
On the other side of the collection towards the drawer Russia was still going through, was also mahogany framed photos. He couldn't quite see them though and decided he wasn't going to get scolded for being nosey. But he still couldn't help but be curious about the photos, the branding and the unwashed knife.
His mind was coming up with many different theories when he was snapped back to reality by Rus handing him the original toolbox.
This time it was much heavier, and America was about to ask how to get out carrying so much weight but decided not to after seeing the large pieces of wood and the saw the dragon was already hauling up and out of the workshop.
It was hard climbing with one hand, but he did it! Sorta….. He may have had a little help at the top of the latter from the tree dragon, but other than that!
He had finally done something……..something his dad would scold him for 'not being prince like' and it felt….. Great! It was not much….. but a start.
Maybe he wouldn't hate this as much as he thought he would.
~~~~~~~~
I'm back >:3
Hope you enjoyed this!
Would people like a very late non-cannon Halloween update or nah?
1046 words