A pure, heavy snow drifted down from the thick, dark night clouds surrounding Gilbert's home. A somewhat flashy place, recently renovated and very ultra modern, for of course, Prussia was out to impress. The colours on the in and outside of the spacey house were those quite 'in', the cool gray, the steely blues, the flat browns, but Gilbert didn't mind, or did he even care? What was popular would draw attention for all the right reasons and oh, how he loved to gloat.
There was also something else that made Gilbert update the style of his home. Something else that he'd missed for quite some time, something else that secretly pounded his heart and boiled his blood. Something else that he so desperately wanted to impress in anyway he could. That something else, rather, someone else, was Elizaveta. His beautiful Hungarian muse.
Could his eyes be misleading him? Or was that his beauty now, emerging from the forest, ably advancing on his mansion? Gilbert was half way up the grand staircase of his home, on the landing between the first and second floor when he spotted her through wide glass panes. His mind erased everything but her. He bolted for the glass doors to the balcony (yes, there was a balcony even for the landing of the staircase, the mansion was thatmodern. This was Gilbert, I remind you).
There she was: Elizaveta in the flesh, walking up to his front doors...rather, limping? The smirk evaporated from Gilbert's handsome face. Why...?
The cold, brutal winter wind blew, making a flap of her coat dance open, revealing the crimson splattered, blood stained skirt of her dress.
The white haired hunk flew down the stairs, leading him straight to the back door. He was going so fast, he skidded across the hardwood floor trying to turn around and bolt to the front, it was in the same hall; still, he hit a wall or two.
Another sharp gust of winter breeze howled just as Gilbert blew through the front doors. The sound made the hurt girl look up from the snowy ground. Her face lit up to see the albino Prussian running to her aid.
"Gilbert, oh..." She moaned in relief as he took to her side.
"Lizzie, what the Hölle happened to you?" Prussia wrapped an arm round her and carfully escorted her inside. He swept her into the stylish living room and quickly sat her down on the couch. It didn't bother him that his white sofa might get stained, right now Elizaveta was all he saw and his(for whatever odd reason) growing arousal was all he felt.
"I-I don't know how it happened." She quivered. Gilbert took her hands, sitting close at her side on the couch. "I was with Roderich all day, we'd just finished lunch and I offered to clean up. I don't know where he went, to is piano I imagine. He's always at that thing, playing song after song after god damn song..."
"Oh - r-right, sorry. Um, I-I was looking out the window above the kitchen sink while washing the dishes, you know how I love the snow...and then, I saw what looked to be a large mass of...people, coming towards the house. I-I thought it was peculiar, so I called for Roderich to come look. As I turned back, the mob had gotten much closer, and...I could see they all had...guns and weapons...and...and..." Tears started pouring from her eyes. She leaned on Gilbert's shoulder. "I didn't even realize I'd been hit until I saw the bullet hole in the window pane."
"What? Where were you shot?" Gilbert frantically scanned her body. She looked down at her arm. Gilbert took hold of the collar of her coat and gently slid it off, revealing a nasty looking wound in her left shoulder. "Jesus, Liz..."
"Roderich came running and, of course, a single glance at me and he was out the door, in the yard ready to defend his home...and me. No weapon in hand, no defence, no; he's too proud for anything like that. Too noble to get blood on his hands, I don't know what he thought he'd do to make the leave - he's not a fighting man, Gilbert, even you know that, what was he supposed to do?"
Eliza sobbed openly on Gilbert's shoulder while he stroked her long fawn coloured hair, which was strewn across her back. When she calmed down, she simply looked up to his eyes and said, "May I use your shower?"
The Prussian blinked, before a grin emersed him. "Of course!" Did you really think I'd restrict a houseguest from the most basic facilities?" It warmed Hungary's heart, something she could really stand just then. "I'll take care of you, Lizzie. And you're welcome to stay as long as you like. Forever, If you want." He winked at her.
Gilbert guided her upstairs and showed her a lush guest room. "You can sleep in here, unless you'd find my bed more comfortable."
"O-oh..." She shook her head woefully. "I-I just want to get out of these clothes and feel clean again."
Get out of your clothes...Gilbert ached inside. I can help with that. But no promises on how clean you'll feel...or be.
He opened the door to reveal a very posh, very modern bedroom with a huge, wide bed and ceiling to floor windows covering an entire wall of the quadrilateral room. He pointed out a door by the bed as a bathroom and the door beside that as a linen closet.
"Is there anything else you need? Food or drink? Live entertainment?" He smirked.
"N-No, I'm fine." She cleared her throat, sensing now just how raw the wind had torn her windpipe.
"...Okay, then. Good night, I guess."
"Jó éjszakát, Gilbert," She paused, "A-And..."
"Mm?" He waited.
The girl shifted her glance away. "Thank you."
Gilbert just smirked again, then walked away, hands in pants pockets, to his bedroom not far up the hall.
Eliza entered her room quickly, bloody skirt twirling as she shut the door. She hastily stripped off the filthy garment and grabbed the first towel and wash cloth she found in the linen closet. Sad, the linens, too, were white and would stain from her wound. Entering the attached bathroom, she gazed upon her bedraggled reflection in the mirror over the sink. The through-and-through wound in her shoulder wasn't as bad as it seemed. She hadn't lost nearly as much blood as one would think one would being shot in the shoulder, which of course came as a relief to Eliza. She gave it an inspecting jab with her dirt caked fingernail, seething at the instantaneous sting.
Lizzie slipped into the modernized, wider than average glass shower stall and flicked on the hot water. She wanted to wash away that horrible gritty, slimy, dirty feeling and she'd take just about anything to do it just then.
She didn't hear her bedroom door creak open as she stood under the flow of water, scrubbing herself all over to get rid of the red stains on her skin. She didn't see the reflection of white hair and pale flesh in the bathroom mirror as someone stood just outside the stall, removing their own clothing. She hardly even noticed the sound of the shower door opening; however, the clink of it shutting caught her ear.
Frame rigid, senses flaring, Elizaveta turned timidly to find Gilbert standing right behind her, smirk plastered across his face. Before she found time to gasp, he'd jerked her backwards against the shower wall, an arm on either side of her torso, pinning her in the corner.
"Hey, Liz. Need any help?"
She strained not to look, but it was oh so hard. He had muscles - oh, the muscles... everywhere, his arms, his chest, his abs...she tried not to go further down, but it was right there...he smirked triumphantly when he caught her quick but intriged glance at his body. His red eyes glowed so eerily in the water mist, the red alone was unlike any natural iris shade Eliza had ever seen, but with the cornering and the wavering fuzziness of water vapor, they seemed to draw her in with mystery and show. Rather, she stood still, Gilbert was the one getting closer.
She looked away as he lovingly tuck a wet lock of hair behind her ear, hissing in a low pitch as a throbbing eloped from her wound against the wall. "Gilbert - ahh, please! M-My shoulder! I can't put up with your shenanigans - w-what are you - ?"
"I like naughty women, Liz, and - well, you said yourself, you're very dirty..." He smirked even more, if that was possible.
She grimaced at him. "You a-arrogant pig! You know I didn't mean it like tha- "
"Shhhh." He pressed a long, slender finger on her lips. "Let me help you get clean."
He squated down to the floor and picked up the wash cloth, eagerly eying her all the way back up. He stopped half way up her leg.
"Oh. You have a bad gash here on your inner thigh, Lizzie. Is that why you were limping?"
"Gilbert, come back up to eye level, for Christ's sake! Or better yet, get the flying fuck out of the bathroom!" With the hand from her good arm, the brunette gladly ensnared a fistful of the albino's locks, in a bid to push, pull, or generally remove the man from her proximity.
Prussia, on the other hand, was taking the situation much differently. "D'you want me to clean it out?"
He didn't wait for a response. Gilbert wiped the wound and all around it on her upper thigh, observing everything at eye level. Was he everenjoying himself. Too much. Abruptly, Gilbert dropped the cloth and grabbed her thigh between both porcelain palms, extending tongue from mouth andlapping in and around the gash, like the bloodthirsty freakshow he is.
Oh ho ho, Elizaveta was THROUGH with this mayhem! "Fuck OFF Gilbert, STOP!" She grappled his hair tighter, jolted a leg forward, and amply kneed him square in the face. Hard. Gilbert was knocked backwards, clutching his nose without hesitation. Eliza braced herself in the corner of the stall for support, healthy arm wrapped around her chest to cover herself, the injured hanging down to hide her groin.
A gush of sanguine fluid seeped from between Gilbert's boney fingers, running down his wrist before dripping to the shower floor. "...Damn, Liz, you made me nosebleed." He grinned, with a slight wince at the pain. "Still won't submit to my awesomeness, huh?"
"Never." She growled. "Not everyone wants to screw you, Gilbert. Anyone alive, at least."
The smirk returned. "Riiiiight, sure they don't." He found his way to his feet and stepped out of the reach of the pouring water, shaking out his silvery strands. "I'll have to try harder tomorrow, then!" A coy grin as he opened the glass shower door. "Well, 'night Lizzie!" And with that, he simply slipped out from the stall.
Elizaveta raised an eyebrow, truthfully a tad stunned. The bastard actually stopped when I told him to? And just left without argument? Surely this was not the Gilbert she knew. She trusted this man enough to come to him for help when she was hurt though, now didn't she? No! She resisted. His place was the closest walking distance, that's all! Her thoughts were argumentative between one another. Was there a different reason she came to Gilbert...? It seems even she wasn't certain.
"Guten nacht, Lizzie-boo~!" Her inward discussion halted as the Prussian made one last call to her, his clothing gathered in his arms on his way to the door.
"GET THE FUCK OUT, GILBERT!"
"Aw, sweet dreams to you too~!"
Hell, tomorrow she was finding his frying pan and practicing her swing, injured shoulder or not!
Just posted this on DeviantArt and tweeked it a bit ^^ Updated the characters, basically. Elizaveta was so...not her bad-ass self when I first posted this! Shit, she was so OOC...