The Russian circled the Pole, his eyes narrowing. The two were in a cell below Russia's house, and Poland was sitting on a chair casually. How he sat casually, even with his limbs hanging limp and blood running out the side of his mouth the Russian would never understand. Even with his pink shirt ripped and scabbing cuts criss-crossing his chest, Poland's eyes danced merrily and a smirk gracing his lips.
Finally Russia got tired of circling and stopped, facing the blond whose eyes had followed him around the small room. He leaned in close to the blond, breathing harshly into his face.
"Like, Russia, your breath totally stinks. I'd offer you a tic tac but you like, kind took my purse away. It was kind of a bitch move, you shouldn't take someone's purse, even if it is as super cute as mine," Poland informed Russia, his voice holding a breathy and light tone, despite the gurgling bloody bubbles that formed at the corners of his mouth. The voice was in sharp contradiction to his beaten body and Russia knew then that Poland would not be dying that day.
"How is it, Poland," Russia whispered, ignoring the Pole's words and almost seeming to draw closer, "How is it that I partition you and partition you and yet you never die? I would have thought you would have nothing left by this point. You are a weak country, easily dominated when you do not have attendants like Lithuania by your side and yet you continuously rise from the ashes like a phoenix..."
Poland actually rolled his eyes at this, "Like, Russia, do you have any idea how un-fabulous the world would get if I like, died? I have to stay alive or else how would Liet know when his military uniforms go out of fashion? Seriously, like, don't even."
Russia growled and drew back, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Poland, I do not understand you at all. I have beaten you and imprisoned you. Your body is barely moving and yet you look at me without fear, or even determination, it's as if nothing I've done has affected you at all! Then you say something as airheaded as that?"
Poland yawned widely. "Russia babe, you're like, totally boring me over here. If you're not letting me out at least, like, get me some gossip magazines or something." Even as Russia watched, the Pole started raising his arms. Already his body was regaining his meagre strength? This was too much for the Russian. How could such a weak country be able to recover so quickly? Swinging out violently, Russia slammed both his hands together in a clapping motion, pinning Poland's arms down to his sides. Any other country would gasp in pain at the attack and then begin shaking in terror, or grimacing in cold acceptance... but Poland, though he winced briefly, only looked at Russia as if he were some little inconvenience of his day.
"WHY ARE YOU NOT AFRAID OF ME?" Russia screamed, ready to begin tearing at his hair in frustration. Poland should not have such guile as this! He was beaten down again and again, why was he not a submissive trembling mass like his precious Baltics?
Poland sighed as he gave a little struggle to Russia's grip before shrugging and letting the hands stay. "Like, Russia, you know I go through this all the time right? Like, not just you, I've had Prussia, Germany, lot's of guys are always like, barging into my house all scary and shit and they tie me up and beat me and throw me around, it's gotten kind of boring you know? I mean after the first six or seven times I realised I wasn't going to die, and when you know you won't die then the pain's just kind of like, inconvenient but not scary or anything. Especially not from you, cause I've had you partition me, like, a bajillion times already. It's getting kind of hard to care anymore you know?"
Russia stared at the Pole in the eyes and noted with displeasure and bemusement that yes, he did appear rather bored with the proceedings. The large nation grunted and drew back, finally releasing the blonde's arms.
"But this still does not explain how you continue to resurrect yourself. I want to know how you do that, and do not repeat something silly about fabulousness!" Russia demanded, his eyes glinting with useless menace as Poland leaned back in the chair, the blood on his chin drying as he began rolling his arms in their sockets experimentally.
"Well it's like... umm..." Poland looked around the barren room and sighed as he had before, "It's like... okay you know how when we die it happens because people stop thinking about us? Or like, stop referring to us as a country and stuff, and we lose our citizens, that kind of thing?"
"Yes..." Russia said softly, urging the Pole to go on.
"Well, um, it's like," Poland now rose a hand to rub away at his bloody chin, "So in other countries, especially, like, America and Britain and places like that but also others, like, they have all these really stupid jokes about how stupid Poles are right? I mean we're totally not stupid, but I know it's all jokes and stuff so I don't really mind. But like, all those people will always, always think of Poles as a race from Poland right? So even if my people ever start thinking of themselves as something else it can't really last because EVERYONE else thinks of them as mine, so they are forced to think of themselves as mine too, right? So no matter what happens I can't completely die, I'll keep coming back over and over again. I might be different sizes and shapes, but I'm still me. Does that make sense?" Poland cocked his head to one side and looked curiously at the Russian who was pinching the bridge of his nose again.
"Da... so... you mean to tell me you are still alive because the world thinks you're stupid enough to make jokes about?"
"Yep," Poland said, popping the 'p' sound and flashing a smile.
"... I think I need a drink," Russia mumbled, heading out of the cell to find vodka and not bothering to lock it behind him. Soon Poland would get up strength enough to leave, go home, watch some soaps and paint his nails. Russia would go on to drink much vodka and then go stalk China in a panda suit. Eventually Poland would be captured and tortured again and would resurrect himself.
As is the way of the world.
((Joyful Note: Uuh... I don't know I guess I just wanted to experiment with writing Poland because I like him so much... I don't like writing Russia like this! T_T I mean I liked reading about him torturing others but writing it... I like writing innocent cute Russia who doesn't know he's causing pain... oh well. I got this idea after reading a bunch of Polish jokes. I'm a jerk. Also, this is much shorter than my usual one shots... ah well. If you don't like it, ignore it, I'm really not sure why I wrote it...))