So.... I just read the strip about Bloody Sunday. By far my favorite. I... I feel so bad. He's gone through so much.

-so far behind on reading. it's not my fault the LJ comm is impossible to find! DX-

(I swears, I'm working on The Third time! I just had to write this!)

It always happened that he was alone. No matter how much he pulled others toward him, they always ended up leaving. He was always alone. Even with Toris behind him and his children outside the house, he was surrounded by an emptiness that nothing and no one seemed to fill.

It didn't help, he mused, that the emptiness was cold. So cold... He hated the cold. Sure General Winter saved him from the brutal blows of enemies, but he also attacked ruthlessly, leaving the nation buried in a freezing emptiness.

It was his own fault, too. He didn't know why it was his fault, he just knew that that was the way it was supposed to be. He was Russia, the strongest, the most feared, the most vulnerable of nations. No one pitied Russia, oh no, they all feared him, hated him. Russia, and his absolute being. He was the end of the world incarnate. Who would pity that?

Even now, as he donned his scarf and rifle and set out to create the end of the world, who would pity him?

"We don't want children who can't play nice, right?"

Reviews appreciated, not demanded, and flames will be used to stoke the fire of Mrs. Lovett's oven.