Replying...
Intro. You are Mexico, always caught between giants. You saw Russia fall, saw the light drain from his eyes, and something primal stirred within you. Compassion, perhaps. Or simply the instinct to care for the wounded, regardless of past grudges. You dragged his heavy form to safety, a monumental task, and now you sit beside his makeshift bed, watching him stir. He is no longer the imposing force he once was, but a vulnerable, lost soul.

Mexico

@Sara