- Sweet Sacrifice [Originally: To The Underworld We Go] -

Ahhh... They both kinda work the same way.. But if it makes more sense that way; sure why not.

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My, my, my… That answers one question.. At the same time, I guess the fledging hasn’t learned to limit your voice in the mind to one person.. Sweden thought quietly to himself after hearing the voice of the once allie. Instantly he rethought his plan. This should be fun….And quite.. Intresting.

“You want to see your father once more… You must kill him..” Berwald wasn’t waiting for a response back.. “I’ll be watching, but I have.. Things.. To attend to..” Never would the Sweden think of an once allie as a person.. It just wasn't right.


He hated having his trust put in the girl to make sure she did anything of the ‘killing’ nature, but he needed to.. By the sounds of it; the Russian was in in the dark, a fledging wanted to follow into a cruel new world, and Alfred was only two steps ahead of everything. He stepped away from the Hawaiian, his dark wings unfurling as a crease formed on his forehead. It was a sign that stress was crossing the mind, but it didn’t matter…

“Mmm..” he growled under his breath, thinking what else to say, but couldn’t. Instead, he shot into the forest. Flying low with the protection of the oaks shadows.

‘Where are you all hiding..’ Berwald thought to world around him, ‘So I can tare your throats and feel your pulse beat dimming into the abyss of the lifeless..”

The faint gasp of the leading demon filled the Dem!Sweden’s ears.. Perfect timing beyond anything he’d imaged at that. Placing his feet on the ground quietly and folding his wings in halfway, Berwald took to steps -still hidden from view- towards the scene he could see. A shiver rippled down his spine at seeing the Russian’s mortal life literally being drained from the neck. What a shame.. But what a hope it could be as long as the Russian didn’t get any cheeky idea’s of becoming one with the American..

“Ohh the horrible joys of free will..” Berwald said under his breath, a faint grin surfacing upon his face.

Francis nodded slightly, rather glad that the angel had caught on fairly quickly.

"We'd have to..lure Alfred here...or something like that! It will not be easily done!"

The Frenchman glanced back at the Hungarian, head tilted thoughtfully, before shifting his icy blue gaze back to the angel.

"Ah, mon dieu..I'm aware of the harm this could bring. Indeed, you're right. Luring Alfred would be difficult; we all know he's smart enough to avoid a direct setup. But, Alfred's intentions are directed to the allies. Any other human can divert his attention though, even for a moment; after all, he is a demon. Killing is natural for him, and the urge to attack may be hard to resist. But then again, it still can bring harm to Elizaveta if he fails to recognize her properly." Francis inclined his head to the Hungarian, brushing back a lock of his hair out of his eyes.

"If he wants the allies, then he'll get the allies by force if cooperating with him fails. I could prove to be a distraction, in order to lure him over, although I assume it would be fairly suspicious in Alfred's point of view. Using her to lure him would be too dangerous if he chose to attack upon sight, but its still an option." The Frenchman glanced worriedly at the Hungarian, then back at the angel.

"Arthur has already been turned, which rules that tea-inhaling Brit out. Then there's Prussia. Who knows how many other nations have been turned or killed? For all we know, Ivan could be dead if he's still out there. He'd never go willingly to Alfred's side, without a fight. That's the scary part of that cheeky little Russian." However, unaware to Francis, Ivan was far from dead.

"I believe a distraction of sorts with Elizaveta and I, or even just one of us, will be both sufficient enough and deadly, to be blunt." The Frenchman pondered with a slight shrug, looking a bit unsure for a moment or two.

haha ok ^^" thanks for answering

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The girl looked a bit shocked but nodded slowly in reply. This was a suicide mission that he was sending her off to, but what difference did it make? She didn't have much time left anyway, and even if she didn't do what the demon told her to, she would still die either way. She then made her decision, that she would not kill her father but, kill the demon that he had become. She then made her way to the scene of the fight. When arriving, she saw that Ivan had been bitten by Alfred. She ran to Ivan in a reflex as she saw that he was loosing blood. Even though black flames were burning her ,as Ivan's humanity was slowly being dragged, the stated tried her best to stop the process from happening.

"No! *cringe* Com'on Ivan, stay with me."

The state was trying to use her powers to heal his wound and also exract all the venom from his body. The problem was....the venom had spread through out his entire body already, so the chances of extracting it all were not very high.

Francis~ I'm going to wait to write a reply for Canada until Hungary responds :3 I just dont want to make replying any more difficult for her, ya know?

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† † †
A pleased grin spread across the she-demon's face as she watched the scene unfold. The scent of blood that penetrated the air was hypnotizing. It caused her senses and mind to run wild, and it took all of her conscience not to dash out and steal some of the precious liquid for herself. Instead, she slipped down from her tree, landing on the soft ground. With a silent and delicate set of steps, she approached the group, coming out just ahead of the treeline behind the American demon. Her grin remained as the shadows around her slowly faded down to the ground, seemingly absorbing into her very form. Her blackened claws flexed a few times as she pulled herself together. She knelt behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck with a fanged smirk.

"You did well for your first time, Alfred~"

Her tail swished back and forth behind her, the same chilling purr in her voice. She had completely forgotten how she'd ever rebelled against the male demon, or considered how he might react. Her multi-colored eyes studied the American for a few seconds before scanning the rest of the area, an expression of warning for any of the others to even try and oppose her in her gaze.

† † †

snarlbitchsavagerippillageeatlittlebabies....

Lawl.

---

Ivan could not suppress a scream of mortal agony upon feeling those fangs sink into his neck. The scream shot out into the woods and bounced off the trees, creating some sort of blood-curdling echo to those also standing in the woods.

Before, Russia had felt no regret whatsoever after he spat in the Demon's face; He just stood there and glared defiantly at the American. Despite the circumstances then, one could clearly see that he still had fight left in him… it wasn’t easy breaking a Russian after all.

Ivan took the stinging slap to the face with nothing but a wince and a low growl, yet he couldn’t help but give a startled gasp at the feeling of Alfred’s hand slapping onto his bloody throat. His hands instinctively shot up and gripped intensely around the offending Demon’s wrist with force enough to sprain a normal human’s wrist..

He gave a short wheeze, trying to regain the lost air before finding himself thrown onto the ground. Ivan had made to push himself up and off the ground with his sore arms, yet he felt his aching body give out when Alfred pushed and pinned him back down.

Ivan was growing fatigued with the loss of blood and the injury inflicted on his back, and his face was already beginning to bruise. He flinched and gave a silent groan as he felt the warm, slick tongue slide over his face; Oh, Ivan didn’t know what the old Alfred would do if he knew what this was doing to the Russian.

“Alfred…N-Nyet!” Amethyst irises widened as he felt those fangs touch against his neck once more. It was as though the cold realization just occurred to the Soviet exactly what America had in mind, and he felt a slight twinge of fear for the first time; one would thing Ivan was a little slow at catching up and getting the gist of things, yet this time Russia had allowed anger to take over and blot out reason. A mistake that now cost him his humanity.

Now, Ivan’s back arched as that brief scream burst from his bleeding throat as those demonic canines sliced into his flesh. The scream faded into a throaty groan as his eyes closed and rolled upwards.

The Russian blindly gripped any part of the demon’s face or head that he could find in futile attempts to pry him off. The feeling… it was so alien to him. The sensation was exhilarating, yet at the same time, he was nearly blinded by the harsh waves of pain that crashed over his very being at every random second. He writhed underneath Alfred in fruitless attempts to get away… Usually he would just throw the smaller nation right off him, but he hated to admit it... Alfred was stronger than him in this form.

Another agonized shout burst from the bitten Soviet and, once the demon slid off him, he jerked onto his side and doubled over as the burning pain increased...

The venom felt like hellfire, burning away at his insides… burning away his humanity. Waves of nausea crashed over him like vicious waves of a hellish tsunami; He felt dizzy and lightheaded from the loss of blood, yet instinct… that fading piece of human instinct… screamed at him to get up.

No such task was ever accomplished, however, for the feeling similar to one of hot oil dripping through his bloodstream began to creep in, making itself known like a spear among the haze of torment. Ivan gritted his teeth together and pulled his knees up to his chest, as if trying to shield himself from the growing burn within; he didn't notice the she-demon, or even Ayaka or Berwald at the moment... he was too lost in this excruciating surreal reality. Russia’s doubled-over body suddenly spazzed with a harsh yelp, and as his mouth opened in the pained noise, one could see that his human canines were already lengthening and sharpening into animalistic fangs….

The transformation was taking place, yet it was slow… oh, so agonizingly slow.

If a normal person would have had a pistol in hand, he would have surely ended his life right then and there.

Ivan had dropped his hand gun at the beginning of the fight, but it was still unclear as to what would have happened if that weapon was in reach at this given moment…

Ahh.. Sorry for putting you on the ground, Ivan.. -Hint: you'll see what i mean-

---

“Really! I thought you said you’d listen to me?” the Swedish man snarled, the demon had become was completely in control now. Not a hint of humanity because his anger was revealed.

Coming from the shadows, Berwald didn’t even give the fledging chance to stand or even dare touch the Hawaiian. Coming to the pair of pitiful creatures that stood no chance if all 3 demons gained up on them, Berwald picked the Hawaiian up by the back of the neck and held her so that her eyes were at level with his. The once cold stare of ice blue was coated heavily with his new amethyst colored iris. His gaze into her eyes were full of baneful intentions.. One might go insane at the gaze of anger. Taking flight into the sky quite a few feet, he let her drop to the ground with a forceful throwing. The it was dangerous, it wasn’t meant to kill. Just punish.

Mind cleared for a moment and he understood that the Russian could easy die all together if his body and soul weren't ready for such change.. It pained him to think so, but he needed to make sure that his -hopefully still- ally was treated to. If he didn't, Berwalds own plans of turning everything around might be ruined. That is not in the question to the Sweden.

Coming quickly back down, he ignored his doings and went to the Russian, leaning down and whispering soothingly -not enough to sooth the pain, but just enough for Ivan to hear, “If you know what’s good for you, hold onto some part of your humanity. Not in the soul, for the soul is changing.. Mental hold onto something that will keep you.. Stable..”

Throwing Ivan over his shoulder -trying to be not rough- Berwald cast a horrible glare at the demons and the mortal. A strange, thick smog formed, killing and turning anything that touched it black. It was in a thin line that couldn’t be seen through, but it was temporally separating the pair of demons from the Hawaiian, Russian, and Swedish. Silently thinking that he could sense an ally -or three- somewhere somewhat close. It was enough to get Berwald’s wings opened and sending the pained man and himself to the place that he could feel.

✆ ✆ ✆ ✆

“Nothing can easy anymore, can it?” the Swedish snarled to himself as he realized he couldn’t just waltz into the hotel, ask if any angels, demons, people or anything had checked in. Let alone looking like this could he walk in and check out a room. Not that he even wanted to, to begin with.

Only one thing to do.. Break a wall or two down..

Taking huge risks, Berwald took a guess at which room that a huge surge of holyness was coming from, and gazed into the window. Seeing the French man and the angel speaking was a slightly relaxing as while as kind’ov stressful. He could feel that they weren’t the only ones here.. Oh well!

Using a free hand, Sweden smashed his fist threw the wall and broke off from that hole a huge gape within a few seconds. He stepped in and looked angel and then the Frenchman, smiling softly.

“Uhh.. Would have used the door, but..” He left his words unfinished, instead he looked back to the angel, pointing to the Russian that he now was laying gently on the ground, “Could have help him? He’s to far into the venom to be pulled from it.. But could you steady out the pain?

Sweden's voice shone through the darkening haze like a light in the fog. It wasn't only his words that snapped most of his human senses up, but the owner of the voice. Sweden? His old half-brother and rival? What was he doing here...

Another jolt of burning pain shocked through his body, yet he struggled to obay the order.... Warmth was the first thing that sprung into his mind...

If one would had tapped into his mind and examined his thoughts, one would see a very young violet-eyed boy, sobbing, but snuggled in the arms of none other but Ukraine. They were sitting in a large, grassy field of the woman's lands, and Ukraine was gently cleaning the cuts on the little Russian's pale face after a 'punishment' session from Mongolia; her face was as cheerful and smiling as always. Those secret visits to the seemingly wimpy woman were the only source of warmth and comfort Russia had ever gotten in those dark times. If it wern't for his self-claimed older sister, the question of whether or not Russia would have still been here to this day remains unclear. If he had lived, what would his mental status be like?

Ivan clung to those memories like a drowning man would cling onto a floating object. He missed his older sister... he missed the times he had as a child just wandering the luxurious, warm fields and flower patches with her without the knowledge of his boss.. He missed that spicy-sweet smell of her house, and the gentle warmth of that sun.

His heaving breaths were still gasping, yet they became more uniform and level than before. Blinding pain still crashed over his body as the Swede lifted him up and over his shoulder, resulting in him giving another agonized whimper from his clenched jaw…yet he somehow found this burn more bearable than before. Ukraine’s good food… her risking her own life to hide him and protect Belarus when Mongolia was having blind rages… the scarf she made him to keep him warm and to remember her by…

His scarf!

Russia's eyelids felt heavy as he forced them to open to search for the scarf. He just barely managed to glimpse the blood-stained white object well out of reach before the smog engulfed them.

He didn’t know where he was or what was going on; all he knew was darkness… noise… pain. He kept his jaw clenched and his eyes shut tightly, trying so hard to cling to his humanity Oh, when will this torment end?

A stunning jolt of searing burn shocked through his body right before Sweden crashed through the walls. Ivan clenched at the pain and dug his nails into the other country’s clothes; but they felt different; black talon-like claws were slicing their way through the skin, replacing the normal human fingernails.

Once lying on the floor, He didn’t have time to think about what a shock it must have been to the other countries; Russia gasping harshly for breath, his throat slit and his faced bruised and beginning to swell where Alfred cracked his own metal pipe into. Blood stained the chest and shoulders of his beige coat, as well as the entire front of his throat. Then, there of course were those deep puncture wounds caused by the fangs of the Demon. Black was intermingled with the crimson tears that poured freely from the bite marks… it was unclear how long Ivan could fight this torment..

Francis jumped in alarm, quite nearly falling off his seat, as Sweden punched through the wall abruptly, stepping in...with Ivan? His eyes widened in shock, and the Frenchman grew fairly pale before he shook his head, struggling to clear it.

The sudden appearence of Sweden, the fact that he was a demon, set Francis on high alert for a split second; however, his attention was immidiately reverted to the Russian lying on the floor, black and crimson blood pulsing from the bite in his throat, clothes stained in the sickly substance.

"Poison? What..oh, mon dieu.." It didn't take long for the Frenchman to catch on, and he glanced questioningly once at the angel before getting up and rushing to the fallen Russian's side, cringing a bit. Francis wasn't really much of the squeamish type, but even this both disgusted and apalled him. "Ivan! Ivan, can you hear me?" Even Francis wasn't sure what to do besides be horrified, his gaze settling on the bite at the Russian's neck. He uneasily hoped that the angel could do something, anything, to at least help Ivan in any way she could.

"Sacre bleu...simply a wild guess; I'm assuming Alfred did this, didn't he?" The Frenchman adressed Sweden, still looking vaguely pale, blue eyes clouded with uneasiness and worry. By the look of the bite in Ivan's neck, this came as a shock to the Frenchman; until now, he hadn't thought it was possible to well, be changed into a hellish monster.

And he definetly hadn't thought it would cause this much suffering to the Russian. His gaze shifted back to Ivan, uneasily wondering how long the Russian could last before the transformation was complete.

By the look of those unsettling claws and lenghtened canines, Francis figured it wouldn't be long now.

How interesting.. Why haven’t I noticed that people react to quickly to things.. Ether that or I’m assuming much to quickly. Berwald thought quietly as he absorbed in everything finally.

Sweden was now noticing the strong changes that were coming from the Frenchman, but he chose to ignore and address the question. This was an opening to try and show that he wasn’t on Alfred’s side.. Showing up with his rival over his shoulder in an effort to save the Russian’s life was enough to prove only to an extant..Plus -not involving proving himself-, Sweden did still have some things to settle with the Russian, why let him die? Whatever the case.. This would be another step towards the correct direction. Hopefully anyway.

“Look at you being so smart, Francis! Hint the sarcasim.. Of course it was Alfred." pausing, the Sweden tried to carefully plan his words after such a mean statement.. He needed to share something, but he didn’t want to scare anyone.. But more rather warn, “You do know.. That poison will kill him regardless of anything. Whether he doesn't ever come without a pulse or comes back without a pulse as a creature of the darkness.. That’s a 50/50 chance, all depending on his sanity.”

Taking the chance after speaking to get things more straightened up with the mess made by himself, Sweden kicked a few bricks aside and sat on his heels,. He slipped off his jacket -though it was tattered on the bottom- and began to gently dab at a few wounds that were bleeding on the Russian. It wasn't a good idea to be doing that wihtout the proper objects, but whatever. He pressed the cloth to the neck wound’s and tied the sleeves so that it would keep pressure without choking Ivan. The pressure would help slow the blood loss, making things just a faint less painful. Though deep down, the Swedish knew that the Russian was in so much pain that only a faint bit better was like a drop a of water among the ocean. Standing back up, Berwald looked around the room, avoiding all eye contact.

“Hey, Francis.. Do you know if there are any cups, water, and spare blankets in here? If the guy’s gonna die, he should be a little more.. Uh..” he thought about his word choice for a second while biting his tongue, “ Comfy.”

Well.. This is going smoothly.. Not.. The Swedish bitterly thought as he listened to the sound of the Russian's heavy breathing. It was almost a pain to listen to it.. Annoying because of the volume, but none the less.. it was a bit sad.

Francis flashed an irritable glare at Sweden's statement, looking fairly flustered. "This isn't the right time for, sarcasm, I'll have you know, bâtard!" He worriedly glanced over at the angel, watching as the soft light that shone on her hand and Ivan's battered, bloody body.

"You do know.. That poison will kill him regardless of anything. Whether he doesn't ever come without a pulse or comes back without a pulse as a creature of the darkness.. That’s a 50/50 chance, all depending on his sanity.”


Sweden's words alone frustrated the Frenchman greatly; the thought of Ivan dying directly from the poison, rather than transforming, kept a sick feeling twisting in the pit of his stomach.

"He's not going to die!" The Frenchman spat, glaring sharply at Sweden. Then again, no matter what happened, the Russian would still, always be suffering. As much as the Russian usually unsettled the Frenchman on a daily basis with that plastic smile and that intimdiating demeanor..now it was utterly different. Francis hadn't ever seen the Russian so, well, beyond weak-dying.

"He's not going to die!!! He'll pull through this!! Ivan may be a bully and jerk to me sometimes...but I know he's strong! There's no way he'd let a stupid transformation like this end him...it can't..."

Francis was glad that at least someone believed the Russian would survive this; be it if he was transformed into a hellish demon or not.

"Hey, Francis..Do you know if there are any cups, water, and spare blankets in here? If the guy's gonna die, he coul be a little more..Uh..Comfy."

Francis gritted his teeth, doing his best to hold back a snappy retort. How Sweden could manage saying such things so bluntly, when a life was on the line? "As I said, he's not going to die. What makes you assume that so quickly? He's strong enough, I know he is.."

Yet, the Frenchman trailed off. Casting a glance at the wounded Russian, he swallowed nervously. By the look of it, even he was unsure if the Russian would last any longer, even with the pain faintly dulled by the angel's powers. He had his doubts, much to his own displeasure. He mentally scolded at himself for even thinking of Ivan failing to hold on to his humanity, even for a meager while longer.

But by now, it was defiently an awaiting, dreadful result of the Demon's bite. First Alfred, then Arthur, then Prussia, and now Ivan?

Francis knew well that it would only get worse.

Awwee.. Well aren't you a sweetheart, Ivan ;33

---

Sweden wasn’t effected by the harsh words, but that was only because he meant for his words to be equally as harsh. Not that he was proud of upsetting the two, but it was merely Berwald’s new sense of emotion. Socially anyway.

They have such strong hope and faith for the Russian.. Good for them.. Wish I could say the same. Berwald thought as he rolled his eyes to their lacking efforts to at least show him where some water an blankets were. Maybe I can say the same?

“Sorry.. Just stating some things that I know.. But I could be wrong, Francis. ” Berwald said in a response to snapping towards him, the Frenchman’s name even coming out a bit bitter in tone. As for the word ’sorry’ it was loosely pronounced and seemed to almost have little to no apologetic manner to it. It was enough for now though as they looked back to the Russian.

A jolt of sickened emotions flooded the Sweden’s veins as his gaze lingered back to the pained man leaning against the wall. Just watching Ivan gasp was enough to make Berwald angered at himself for not being carefully when taking him here. He was doubting himself, making himself believe that he could have opposed the pain for the Russian, anything.. It forced a sad, silent sigh to escape the Swede’s lips. The want to help him now stronger. Berwald wouldn’t lose after betraying his own kind. No matter the cost.

Bringing a long claw to his lip, he bit the nail as he thought and then came back to the Russian. Kneeling down to look him over. He began to examine Ivan carefully, taking note each breath that strengthen and which one’s didn’t from the surge of sudden change in the Russian’s body. Berwald even went as far as to touch the Russian’s bruised temple.

“Damn it..” he growled under his breath and shot the pair a deadly glare, “If you both are soooo hopeful in him living through all it and not even dying like a normal mortal would from a bite, then help me for two moments.”

Alfred growled low within his throat just as the Swede made off with his fledgling. He watched the Hawaiin girl closely, but only for a moment before he turned his attention back to the Transylvanian demon. He wondered if she was right - - would Ivan return to him? Maybe so. But he knew Ivan very well. The Russian would most likely return to get revenge in his newly found demonic form. And the American didn't mind. He would just need to rest before then. His multi-colored eyes were fixed on Viorica, the orbs raking over her entire form with a hungry look within them. He was a demon now, but he was still male. Demons were attracted to one another just like any pair of humans would be.

He smirked at her words, flashing his pearl-white fangs. Without any hesitation, he gripped her by the back of her neck. His grip was anything but gentle, and as he held to her, he forced her head forward until their lips crashed together. The kiss was rough, leaving no room for passion. He knew she would be able to taste the blood upon his lips and tongue, and would most likely go after the bit that was left behind on his chin. In fact, he figured it was the reason she gave into the kiss in the first place - - she would be getting a taste of the Russian's blood out of it.

-knowseveryoneswoonedafterreadingthat-

Francis cringed as he hesitantly observed the suffering Russian, with only his sharp, heavy breathing to indicate he was at least still alive. He uneasily hoped at the Angel's powers would at least dull the pain, if even only a bit; by now, it was too much to see the Russian in such a state. It was fairly obvious that the change would continue to take place until the Russian was fully transformed, no matter how the pain was.

At Sweden's words, the Frenchman glanced up slightly, looking over to the demon with the faint glare still etched upon his features. After a moment, Francis' glare faltered, and he sighed, watching as Sweden examined Ivan. He had to admit, being angered at one another would do no good. After all, the demon had indeed brought Ivan here, rather than leaving him for dead with Alfred.

It gave the Frenchman something else to think about, knowing that, as far as he was concerned, Sweden didn't seem to prove as a threat to him, Ivan, or the angel-otherwise, he wouldn't have brought Ivan to safety, would he?

“If you both are soooo hopeful in him living through all it and not even dying like a normal mortal would from a bite, then help me for two moments.."

At Sweden's words, Francis sighed, casting a worried glance at Ivan before meeting Sweden's glare evenly for a moment. "Very well.." As much as he would've liked to snap a retort at the demon, it wouldn't help the situation. He hesitated, then straightened up and stood, retreating from the room and returning a few moments later with a few towels to soak up the blood. He set them aside, kneeling back beside the Russian, angel, and Sweden.

"Is there anything else we can do besides sitting here? There's Ivan and Alfred to worry about. You brought him here, and in turn, either Alfred may come for him, or Ivan may do so himself." Francis commented, worriedly glancing at the Russian with a sigh.

WOW..... -looks at the underworld topic and sees that she is so behind. Reads and skims through all the replies. she drops her mouse and stands up with both her hands up- I'm done....i'm done *bleeps off* -goes off into other room ranting off on how much she's behind on- lul true story XDDD. Anyways now sorry for not replying for a very VERY long time and in return, will just give the longest reply I can give for what has happened so far (from my understanding). Also i'm going to say i'm also sorry for kinda making this rp a bit more screwed up now. Thanks for bearing with me ; 3 ; -le cries- You guys are just so boss. ; w ;

---

As the young state was trying to stop Ivan's transformation, the Swedish demon took her away forcefully by the neck.

"Ugh!! *gasp*"

Seeing as how she had somehow disobeyed the demon she was critically punished for her sudden attempt to help the Russian stay human. She was then dropped from a high height by the demon. As she dangled her legs just a few inches off the ground the demon dropped her


The Swedish demon was soon gone from the scene to get treatment for the transforming Russian, she decided to make the best of what she had left of her tainted body. A smirk appeared as she slowly got up and made her way to the two demons that were exchanging bloody contracts with each other. The girl thought to herself,

"He...He...might as well finished what I came here to do..."

She made her way towards them as she gathered all the strength she could. The last of the power that was enough to maybe put up a decent enough fight. Maybe even enough to end her demon father.

---

I'm so sorry Sweden for mistaking this DXXX -le fails- I have edited this just a little bit. if anymore are needed please tell me. It would really help me and this RP. ; A ;

---

Thank goodness.. Berwald thought as he took one of the towels. This won’t be as terribly hard as I had imaged it would be.

Gingerly removing his coat from Ivan’s neck, Sweden kept his body at a slight angle so that the others could not see just how bad it looked. He sucked in a sharp, silent breath as his eyes traced the tattoo like markings that were spreading quite quickly. The venom and change was taking place far more faster then the Swede ha originally thought. Dabbing the towel on the wound and then hold it to keep pressure -as while as the markings- , Berwald turned his head just enough so that the pair could catch on that he was speaking to them.

“First things first.. From the impacts of Alfred’s hits, there is more than likely internal bleeding in Ivan‘s left lung.. Or somewhere near that from the sounds of his breaths. I need a glass of water, a needle, and a straw. You, Angel, I need you to enchant the items so that won’t cause pain or infections.” he ordered calmly and gently put the Russian on his side, feeling one of the many bruises.

Berwald needed to make sure that he was going to cut into the correct area. If Ivan had any chance, it would increase with the lack of bleeding. Outside, it could be patched up. In fact, it already looked like it was getting better. But as for bleeding going on inside, that was obviously a whole new manner.

Taking a daggish nail, he ran it carefully over a few bruises. He paused at a deep blue one and began to trace another, but came back to the blue one. It was a hollow looking one that was hardly noticeable even up close. Thing is, that was exactly what the Swede had been looking for. How close he had come to missing it to…

“Actually.. Not a needle. A pocket knife or a thick blade instead. And also a lit candle. The shin cuts easier when it’s warm.” he added quickly.

Hoping that the Russian was as strong as the others said, Berwald was willing to take the risk at using a blade. Plus, it’s a bit more easier to fit the straw into the longer, deeper cut then a needle leaving a paper thin cut.. No matter how disturbing that is.

Francis raised an eyebrow, looking a bit disturbed at first upon Sweden's requests, or rather, orders.

“From the impacts of Alfred’s hits, there is more than likely internal bleeding in Ivan‘s left lung.. Or somewhere near that from the sounds of his breaths. I need a glass of water, a needle, and a straw. You, Angel, I need you to enchant the items so that won’t cause pain or infections.”

“Actually.. Not a needle. A pocket knife or a thick blade instead. And also a lit candle. The shin cuts easier when it’s warm.”

"Water, blade, candle, and a straw...?" Just by his faintly disbeliving tone, it was obvious Francis was already getting disgusted, even just with the general idea of what he guessed Sweden was planning to do. The thought of Ivan bleeding internally worried the Frenchman, as he knew well it was all too possible in the condition the Russian was currently in; battered, bloody, and changing into a hellish being as he clung to humanity by a thin thread.

Francis cringed a bit, then sighed lightly, straightening up. Instinct told him that whatever Sweden was planning, it would possibly help the Russian's bleeding, no matter how, well, disturbing it was.

The Frenchman hesitated, then retreated from the room rather briskly. After quite a bit of brisk rummaging and searching; followed by the brief surprise to the Frenchman of the things he could find in the hotel room alone; he returned to Sweden with the needed items, leaving one more time and returning with a filled glass of water.

"Mon dieu, whatever you're planning on doing, I don't like the look of it. But, if it'll help him in any way, so be it." Francis sighed uneasily, handing the items to Sweden with a look of faint disgust and worry etched acoss his features.

“Francis, trust me for right now.. Alright? This will only benefit him.. Pain for a short time, I won’t sugar coat that, but it will help ease the pain in the end.” Berwald said calmly, taking the items with caution.

Placing the cup slightly near himself, the Swede held the blade over the small candle flame.. The metal changing a faint tint of vermillion as it grew warm. With the other straw in his other hand, he placed one end in the cup of water and the other end ready to be used.. It would take little to completely screw everything up.. But it was still in the question that things could work out that way.. One slip of the blade, the straw misplaced.. Anything..

Berwald leaned forward and asked the Russian with a sweet tone, “Ivan.. I need to know that you can take a slight cut to the back without moving.. If not.. I will have to restrain you.. I want to help.. Understand?”

He leaned back, gripping the handle of the blade knife over the flame, Sweden couldn’t help but think -really think- what has been going on.. Within a matter of moments, the world’s countries were in chaos and people’s lives were changed.. The nature of amity and enmity broken like there was never a treaty.. What a shame.

Slightly turning his head so that only a single eye was looking at the angel, “Angel.. Have you worked you abilities yet? I want to get this horror show in actions quickly so that it may end just as fast as it has begun.”

Oh, Ivan's lung was bleeding? I was not aware :O Oh, well.. makes sense xD -le plays along like a boss-

---

A deep, almost animalistic growl greeted the Swed as he turned the Russian. Ivan's upper lip had twitched as the vicious growl was born, flashing the tips of fang-like canines for but a fraction of a second until a harsh cough shook his body. A small drop of blood trickled from the corner of Ivan's mouth, only to be quickly licked off and hidden my the changing Russian.

There was more concentrated bruising down his spine where his back have given out due to the impact of him being cracked against a tree. The angel's numbing graces were still in tact, yet he could feel an odd, uncomfortable squirming on his shoulders -- it felt as if something was trying to pry it's way out... a small trickle of blood ran from a place in the middle of his shoulder on his back; a tiny, yet sharp black claw-looking thing had peirced it's way out of the skin; the begining of a wing, no doubt... if it wern't for the angel, who knows what agony he would be in. Russia's head pulsed, yet he could feel no pain...

Your first won war... the way you felt when your first son was born... the Cold War... fighting with Yao against the world... holding his panda cubs... General Winter...

Russia clung to every fading memory he could find.. both good and bad... clinging deperatly onto the shortening thread of humanity.

The pain you are going to inflict on Alfred once you get your hands around his bloody neck...

Russia heard Sweden's voice. He fought the strange urge to snap at him... to hiss or growl.. to show in any way possible the death-wish he had for all of the--- wait... what? These thoughts were not his... No. Ivan wouldn't allow his mind to submit to the venom.

The Russian dug his claws into the flooring and ripped downwards a bit, leaving five short scratches where his nails traced. He nodded a bit in reply to Berwald. Heh... a knife to the back didn't frighten him at this moment. He was grateful his old foe was trying to help, even if he didn't show it... Ivan wasn't about to raise hell if the cut will make things better for his labored breathing..