Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
BAD BLOOD { RP }
{ A modern take on Romeo and Juliet, set in WWII }
"She kissed me. She kissed the Devil. Only a beautiful soul like hers would kiss the Damned."
-Daniel Saint
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Realistic or Modern Bad Blood { Svadilfari & TallyHoe }
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BAD BLOOD { RP }
{ A modern take on Romeo and Juliet, set in WWII }
"She kissed me. She kissed the Devil. Only a beautiful soul like hers would kiss the Damned."
-Daniel Saint
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
Name:
Caleb 'Kit' Walker
Age:
Twenty-three years of age
sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
Name:
Anastasia 'Anna' Markov
Age:
Twenty-one years of age
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
"How do you know who the enemy is?"
Fighting was all Caleb has known his entire life. Maybe that's the reason why he survived, maybe it's just pure luck. Or maybe he was simply one of the few who was really brave enough.
The others were young; probably at least five years younger than him. They called them the "Men of War" or the "Government Issued Joes," like they were some kind of property. But they were more like boys really, not men. And when the drafting begun, the government really did own them. Some of these boys haven't even grown their first stubble yet, haven't even felt what's it like to be with a woman. And most of them do not even want to be there; they'd rather be somewhere else, somewhere safe. They'd rather be laughing with their friends, and driving around, feeling the wind and the sun on their faces. Yet there they were, with their hands behind their back, standing in a crooked line and saying "yes sir" to their general, a man they barely know. They're supposed to be brave, to inspire the many. But all they were were sad, cold, and trembling.
"How do you know who the enemy is, Caleb? When you are out there in the field, chaos all around you?"
They were dead now, those boys. Most of them, at least. They were the lucky ones. The ones who survived, the ones who were cursed to live were not so lucky. Some lost a limb or two. While the others, the others lost themselves. "The Thousand Yard Stare," that's what they called it. That's when the boys that came back didn't really come back at all. That's when they start to stare into the distance, and lose themselves again to the fighting, and the screaming, and the blood. Caleb got the "stare" after the war, just like his father did after he led a thousand boys to their deaths for a fight they had to win.
David Walker lost his left leg to the first World War. When he came back, he brought the war home with him. He has been a hard man ever since. He still cares for his family, but he became stern and angrier. He always gets into ugly arguments with his wife, and often disciplines his son. Screams and sounds of glass breaking and shattering never left the Walker home until the day that Eleanor Walker died from a sickness. Among the barracks, it is said that War General David Walker never lost a single battle in his life, but what they don't know is that he already lost one the moment that his wife had died.
"How?"
"The one pointing the gun at you. That is always the enemy."
A long puff of smoke escaped his lips and dissolved into the hot, afternoon air. Kit ran a tired hand through his hair, grimacing as he tried to wipe the beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck. The sun is baking his skin, already turning his already tan complexion to an even more golden color. He took a couple of steps forward, to shade himself under the jagged roof of a burnt house. Lifting the cigarette to his lips, he took a long drag and once again blew smoke into the air.
If his father hears about this, he knows that the man wouldn't be too happy, but he will let him off. After all, he got the job done. That is what they sent him here in Germany for. To get the job done. They called it Denazification.
All eyes were on him, but none of them dared to move. He can feel the hatred in his small audience, but he could not care less. These monsters butchered his brothers during the war. This is what they desreved. "Kein Nazi! Ich bin kein Nazi!" Kit kicked the man at the back, sending him sprawling on the dirt and the ashes. An officer told him that this man hid some Nazis during the war, and supplied them with food from his bakery. He is to be executed with no trial. He let his cigarette drop on the ground, then crushed it with his boots. The crowd begins to murmur now, but he couldn't understand what they're saying. He couldn't understand what the man is saying. All that matters is to get the job done. "Sie zwangen mich, sie zu verstecken ! Ich wollte nicht, dass sie meine Familie zu töten!" The brunet grabbed the gun from his holster and set the barrel of the gun between the man's eyes. "This is what happens to Nazis and the people who help them," he stated. The crowd begins to grow louder now; the man in front of him is still screaming. "Hilf mir bitte!"
sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
A great betrayal.
That was the words her country would call it, the last words she heard from her family. From where she came, Nazis and Germany were both seen as terrible, disgusting, and unwelcome. However, they were wealthy enough in Germany to send her over to the United States. Wealthy enough to pay her handsomely for the troubles. Trouble and danger alike alway lingered around her, but never caught her. A cunning mind, most called it. A lonely life, nonetheless. No one to speak to, no one kind, there was simply no one for her anymore.
Shouting and cheering of the crowd around Anna made her frown, eyes focused on the man before the audience on his knees. No one understood what the man was saying it seemed. If they had, perhaps they would have shown him mercy. Perhaps not. Americans were arrogant and ignorant. The man's cried would never be forgotten by her, she knew that. A last minute decision was unlike her. They were dangerous. Words and actions that were not thought through during these times were always dangerous. Yet here she was, moving towards the scene in front of the audience. The best way to get information would be from the inside, after all.
"Дурак!"
The word left her lips without thinking, moving to stand between the two men, glaring up at the soldier with the gun.
"He had no choice! They were threatening his family if he didn't hide them! You foolish American would put an innocent man to death?"
Due to her time in Germany, the girl had a unique accent. It was a thick Russian one, but there were certainly hints of German in it. A dangerous accent for the place she was in. Dangerous words to defend one who was labeled as a Nazi supporter. But she could not ignore his cries for help, not when he looked so distraught, worried. The man had a family. Ther Nazi's no doubt threatened him with that. They were harsh and cruel. All soldiers were during this time such as the man her eyes were fixed on.
The silence was beginning to fall over around them, all eyes watching the situation, waiting. The girl kept her eyes glued to the man with the gun. Was this where her life ended? In the hands of an American soldier? Risking her life for a man she did not know? This was unlike her. But she was not heartless, not like most were around her. Not like the soldiers could be. Then again, she was no soldier, just a stubborn spy. A girl disowned and lost with nothing but the support of Nazi Germany to keep her afloat. It was that same job that had helped her become accustomed to many languages, many cultures. She was all over the place.
By far, America's culture was the strangest. The way girls like her looked hair up in such a specific way. It was easy enough to do, but it was the makeup she wore that felt ridiculous. The clothing she wore was simple enough to blend in around them. A classic American woman look. However, she was anything but American which would most likely make her situation worse than it already was.
On her, was a handgun. Nothing too big, nothing anyone would notice. She made sure to keep it concealed for times like this. Her hand was lightly placed over it, ready to use it if needed. Protecting herself was above everything else, that was what she told herself. That was what it had to be in times like this. The girl wasn't much in terms of size, she depended on the gun for protection instead of strength. Especially against soldiers like the one in front of her.
Svadilfari
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
Kit looked at the young woman in front of him. She's a pretty little thing, with light brown hair and sharp blue eyes. The crowd had gone quiet now. Nobody knows what's going to happen. Nobody tried resisting an officer before, because they might be branded an enemy, a Nazi. All they wanted is to get on with their lives and forget about the tears, the screaming, and the bloodshed. " Idiot," Kit muttered under his breath as his cold grey eyes met the stranger's blue ones. He could have accidentally shot her for what she did. Getting into the line of fire isn't a good idea, and so is defending a person who is accused of a crime.
"Another Nazi," a soldier's voice shouted from behind the crowd, "Shoot the bitch, Kit. It will teach them a lesson."
"Too pretty to die just yet," another voice replied. Kit turned and saw James, a fellow soldier, smiling at him. "Why don't you give her to me? I'll teach her a lesson or two," he continued with a wink.
James Calloway was a shy, timid, eighteen year old boy sent to the front of lines during the first few battles. After the war, it was dicovered that he had raped at least three German women. All of them blonde. His crimes had been pardoned and forgotten by the General. After all, women were just casualties to them. A soldier's life, however, is more valuable.
" Shut up Calloway," Kit replied as he turned his attention back to the woman. At the corner of his eye, he can see the man slowly crawling back to the safety of the burnt house. With one swift movement, he re-positioned the gun, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The silence of the crowd only made the sound louder than it should be. The man lay dying on the ground, his blood pooling around him, as he he struggled to remove the bullet lodged in his throat. Somewhere in the crowd, a woman screamed, and a child began to cry. "Show's over. Send them back," he said to the troops. As the others led the civilians away, a redheaded soldier stayed behind.
"So what are you going to do with her?" James asked. The smirk he wore earlier never left his face. His cheeks are as red as his hair, and his breath stank of alcohol. Kit holstered his gun and started to rub at his temples. The whole thing is starting to take a toll on his body, as well as give him a headache. The guy that he just shot was supposed to be the last on the list, but it appears that the list kept on growing and growing. A fellow soldier told him that two more names had been added, and now this girl needs to be investigated as well for defending the man. The war is over; he's supposed to go back home and get his wounds treated. But apparently, he's going to have to tough it out for at least another day. Kit's head continued to throb. He doesn't know if he'll make it until tomorrow. He suffered numerous injuries that only adrenaline is keeping him awake. The gunshots from the distance brought his mind back to the problem in front of him.
"Take her to the General maybe," he answered. He's beginning to get angry for some reason. Maybe it's the heat and the fatigue that is slowly creeping to his body. "Your dad?" James scoffed, " He's just going to kill her, then get mad at you for disturbing his beauty rest."
"She's dressed American, but I heard her speak another language. She's definitely not one of us. They might keep her alive for information. Or anything useful," Kit retorted. The redhead slung his gun over his shoulder and grabbed the woman by the waist. "Come on man. You don't believe that. You know your dad. Nazi scum, that's what he thinks of all the Germans. Just let me have a little fun. Then I'll take care of it." Kit narrowed his eyes at him. He couldn't care less what James does, but this is a time for peace. If the Germans figure out what he did to the girl, peace is the last thing that will happen.
"No. I'm going to take her to our commander." The smile disappeared on Calloway's face. "I'm sorry, but what did you say?"
"I said you can't just do whatever the fuck you w--"
It happened so fast that it completely took him off guard. The impact sent Kit sprawling on the ground. James had hit him with the butt of his gun.
"I never liked you Kit. You and your father,"he said as he walked forward, completely forgetting about the girl. Without missing a beat, Kit swung his leg, sending James down on the ground with him. James's rifle was thrown on the side, away from their reach. Both of them rolled over on the dirt and the ashes, landing punches on each other. James might be larger, but Kit has the advantage. The alcohol in his system is slowing the redhead down by a bit, enough for Kit to straddle him and punch him on the face. James tried to reach for his rifle, but it was too far away. Instead, he dug his fingers at Kit's open wound, and grabbed for the gun on his holster. Kit screamed in pain, and tried to pry James off of him. The gaping wound on his leg began to ooze more blood out of the burning flesh. In a moment, the brunet is back on the ground, with the redhead on top of him. He was hit repeatedly with the butt of his revolver. Kit felt blood run down his face as his nose breaks, while his vision begins to get blurry.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the beatings stopped. James got off of him and pointed the gun at his head.
How do you know who the enemy is, Kit? His father's words echoed in his head.
"You don't have to do this," Kit gasped as he tried to make the words come out of his bloody mouth.
"And then what? Then they'll kill me after you tell them what happened here?" James smiled and shook his head. "I have a better idea Kit Walker. How about I kill you, and then that Nazi girl. Then I'll tell them that she did all this, and I'll be a goddamned hero?"
"Another Nazi," a soldier's voice shouted from behind the crowd, "Shoot the bitch, Kit. It will teach them a lesson."
"Too pretty to die just yet," another voice replied. Kit turned and saw James, a fellow soldier, smiling at him. "Why don't you give her to me? I'll teach her a lesson or two," he continued with a wink.
James Calloway was a shy, timid, eighteen year old boy sent to the front of lines during the first few battles. After the war, it was dicovered that he had raped at least three German women. All of them blonde. His crimes had been pardoned and forgotten by the General. After all, women were just casualties to them. A soldier's life, however, is more valuable.
" Shut up Calloway," Kit replied as he turned his attention back to the woman. At the corner of his eye, he can see the man slowly crawling back to the safety of the burnt house. With one swift movement, he re-positioned the gun, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The silence of the crowd only made the sound louder than it should be. The man lay dying on the ground, his blood pooling around him, as he he struggled to remove the bullet lodged in his throat. Somewhere in the crowd, a woman screamed, and a child began to cry. "Show's over. Send them back," he said to the troops. As the others led the civilians away, a redheaded soldier stayed behind.
"So what are you going to do with her?" James asked. The smirk he wore earlier never left his face. His cheeks are as red as his hair, and his breath stank of alcohol. Kit holstered his gun and started to rub at his temples. The whole thing is starting to take a toll on his body, as well as give him a headache. The guy that he just shot was supposed to be the last on the list, but it appears that the list kept on growing and growing. A fellow soldier told him that two more names had been added, and now this girl needs to be investigated as well for defending the man. The war is over; he's supposed to go back home and get his wounds treated. But apparently, he's going to have to tough it out for at least another day. Kit's head continued to throb. He doesn't know if he'll make it until tomorrow. He suffered numerous injuries that only adrenaline is keeping him awake. The gunshots from the distance brought his mind back to the problem in front of him.
"Take her to the General maybe," he answered. He's beginning to get angry for some reason. Maybe it's the heat and the fatigue that is slowly creeping to his body. "Your dad?" James scoffed, " He's just going to kill her, then get mad at you for disturbing his beauty rest."
"She's dressed American, but I heard her speak another language. She's definitely not one of us. They might keep her alive for information. Or anything useful," Kit retorted. The redhead slung his gun over his shoulder and grabbed the woman by the waist. "Come on man. You don't believe that. You know your dad. Nazi scum, that's what he thinks of all the Germans. Just let me have a little fun. Then I'll take care of it." Kit narrowed his eyes at him. He couldn't care less what James does, but this is a time for peace. If the Germans figure out what he did to the girl, peace is the last thing that will happen.
"No. I'm going to take her to our commander." The smile disappeared on Calloway's face. "I'm sorry, but what did you say?"
"I said you can't just do whatever the fuck you w--"
It happened so fast that it completely took him off guard. The impact sent Kit sprawling on the ground. James had hit him with the butt of his gun.
"I never liked you Kit. You and your father,"he said as he walked forward, completely forgetting about the girl. Without missing a beat, Kit swung his leg, sending James down on the ground with him. James's rifle was thrown on the side, away from their reach. Both of them rolled over on the dirt and the ashes, landing punches on each other. James might be larger, but Kit has the advantage. The alcohol in his system is slowing the redhead down by a bit, enough for Kit to straddle him and punch him on the face. James tried to reach for his rifle, but it was too far away. Instead, he dug his fingers at Kit's open wound, and grabbed for the gun on his holster. Kit screamed in pain, and tried to pry James off of him. The gaping wound on his leg began to ooze more blood out of the burning flesh. In a moment, the brunet is back on the ground, with the redhead on top of him. He was hit repeatedly with the butt of his revolver. Kit felt blood run down his face as his nose breaks, while his vision begins to get blurry.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the beatings stopped. James got off of him and pointed the gun at his head.
How do you know who the enemy is, Kit? His father's words echoed in his head.
"You don't have to do this," Kit gasped as he tried to make the words come out of his bloody mouth.
"And then what? Then they'll kill me after you tell them what happened here?" James smiled and shook his head. "I have a better idea Kit Walker. How about I kill you, and then that Nazi girl. Then I'll tell them that she did all this, and I'll be a goddamned hero?"
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sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
Horror filled the girl's expression, watching the poor father's final moments of gasping. Her eyes soon held sorrow, refusing to look away from the man. A last respect for him. It was the least she could do now. However, her gaze didn't seem to last long, not until her distracted focus was taken advantage of and she jumped at the touch of the redhead, glaring at him. Her hands were trying to push him away. There were curses spoken in a Russian tongue to him as she struggled, stumbling back when the fight broke out. It shocked her, causing her to freeze, merely watching the two.
This was her escape. Once she realized that, she looked around quickly to find a good way to escape. That plan was quickly thwarted when the redhead scum had the gun pointed at the wounded man on the ground. It was pathetic, the two were allies yet here they were. They would kill each other. A point she would make sure got back to Germany. Americans were proud, too proud for their own good. They were falling apart from the inside.
It all happened so quick. The handgun in her hand aimed directly at the redhead. Soon, the familiar sound of the bang rang out in the air. His body fell to the ground with a thud, his own rifle falling out of his hands, eyes staring at nothing but the clouded sky. After taking a few moments to recover from what she had done, she had decided that she was the stupidest person alive. A fearful noise escaped her, eyes on the man on the ground before she began to run.
Soldiers were everywhere. The moment her feet had begun to move, there were those after her. Those who were trained for this, those were could easily catch up to the girl. Her shoes were easily dismissed so she could run faster, she didn't look back. Not until there were arms around her.
"No! Get off! Don't touch me!"
There were laughs from the two men who caught her, holding her tightly as her body struggled. Squirming in their grasp, her hair had fallen out, strands falling into her pained face. American soldiers were fast and strong. Their grasp felt like enough to break her arms, the pain made it harder to struggle.
"Here,"
With a smile, a blond man was offering Kit a helpful hand to stand up with a bandage in his hand. The screams of protest from the girl were soon heard when she was caught, directing Ed's gaze over to the situation with a small chuckle. They were already bringing her back over to here.
"They'll never learn, will they? Nazi supporters like her are why we're still at war."
Once she was brought back over to Kit, they pushed her to her knees in front of him, bruises already forming on her upper arms. One of the men, a young fellow with hazel eyes grabbed her chin to force her to look up at Kit. A pleased smirk rested on his lips as both of the soldiers on either side of her held her down to the ground, strong hands holding her shoulders tightly. Hair remained in her face, glaring up at Kit. Despite the hard mask she tried to keep up, her bottom lip was trembling slightly, her breathing heavy.
She was afraid.
This was her escape. Once she realized that, she looked around quickly to find a good way to escape. That plan was quickly thwarted when the redhead scum had the gun pointed at the wounded man on the ground. It was pathetic, the two were allies yet here they were. They would kill each other. A point she would make sure got back to Germany. Americans were proud, too proud for their own good. They were falling apart from the inside.
It all happened so quick. The handgun in her hand aimed directly at the redhead. Soon, the familiar sound of the bang rang out in the air. His body fell to the ground with a thud, his own rifle falling out of his hands, eyes staring at nothing but the clouded sky. After taking a few moments to recover from what she had done, she had decided that she was the stupidest person alive. A fearful noise escaped her, eyes on the man on the ground before she began to run.
Soldiers were everywhere. The moment her feet had begun to move, there were those after her. Those who were trained for this, those were could easily catch up to the girl. Her shoes were easily dismissed so she could run faster, she didn't look back. Not until there were arms around her.
"No! Get off! Don't touch me!"
There were laughs from the two men who caught her, holding her tightly as her body struggled. Squirming in their grasp, her hair had fallen out, strands falling into her pained face. American soldiers were fast and strong. Their grasp felt like enough to break her arms, the pain made it harder to struggle.
"Here,"
With a smile, a blond man was offering Kit a helpful hand to stand up with a bandage in his hand. The screams of protest from the girl were soon heard when she was caught, directing Ed's gaze over to the situation with a small chuckle. They were already bringing her back over to here.
"They'll never learn, will they? Nazi supporters like her are why we're still at war."
Once she was brought back over to Kit, they pushed her to her knees in front of him, bruises already forming on her upper arms. One of the men, a young fellow with hazel eyes grabbed her chin to force her to look up at Kit. A pleased smirk rested on his lips as both of the soldiers on either side of her held her down to the ground, strong hands holding her shoulders tightly. Hair remained in her face, glaring up at Kit. Despite the hard mask she tried to keep up, her bottom lip was trembling slightly, her breathing heavy.
She was afraid.
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
Kit watched as Calloway's limp body fall to the ground. Everything would've gone differently if only James hadn't been a talker. Both him and the girl would've been dead by now.
An amused smile formed on his lips as the girl stumbled a few paces away. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Kit asked. He let his head rest on a charred piece of wood among the ashes. It wouldn't be long before they discover James's body. People will be rounded up. Questions will be asked. Someone has to pay for a soldier's blood during peacetime. The other troops will tell them they remember the redhead staying behind with Kit and the Nazi girl. Then they'll send men out to look for her. They'll send dogs.
"You know they will kill you," he finally said, looking over to the silent brunette in front of him. "You could've ran away. Why didn't you? " However, he figured she didn't hear him, as the girl said nothing and immediately spun on her heels and ran. "Wait!" Kit shouted, as he struggled to get back up. The strain made blood ooze out of the wound on his leg, making him wince in pain. His head is swimming; the view in front of him keeps on going in and out of focus, but he has to move. He has to do something about the situation.
Suddenly, a bandaged hand appeared in front of him.
"Poor son of a gun," the blond let out a low whistle as he turned the corpse over with the tip of his boot. "Our Superiors are gonna have a field day over this." Ed crouched and examined the bullet hole between James's lifeless green eyes. "Clean shot. That girl did this?" He stood back up and fished a cigarette from his pocket. He offered one to Kit, but the brunet declined. "She's definitely something alright."
They made her kneel and look up at him, so he can stare at her sharp eyes. There is anger in them, but he can tell from the way her bottom lip quivered that the girl is afraid. Ed and the others are quiet now, waiting for him to draw his gun. Some cases require trials, but shooting a soldier point blank during peacetime will always result in an immediate execution. Kit's head started to pound again, and he raised his hand to massage his temple. "Well Kit? Don't tell me you forgot how to shoot," the soldier with hazel eyes joked, as the rest of them chuckled. Kit's grey eyes met the brunette's gaze. From the earlier situation and the clean shot on Calloway's head, it's clear that the girl is some sort of operative or spy. But she had helped him, and he didn't know why. He looked at Ed, and the blond gave him his pistol. He flicked off the safety, and pointed the barrel of the gun at her head.
"Too pretty to die just yet," he repeated Calloway's words, finally thinking of a way out. He wrapped his calloused hands around the girl's slender neck, and jerked her up to her feet. "You're coming with me," he ordered, "and if you try anything, I'll put a bullet in you." Ed laughed and clapped Kit on the back. "What happened to 'I don't do that kind of thing,' huh?" the blonde asked him with a wolfish smile on his face, "I knew you'd give and eventually do it. Don't worry, we're not gonna tell your dad, do we boys?" The other two soldiers chuckled and started to walk back towards the barracks. "Just make sure to clean everything up when you're done, boy." Ed added as he waved and joined the others.
When they were farther up ahead, Kit dragged the brunette to the other side of the camp. The place is still empty, as the others are still doing raids at the far side of town. The few troops and personnel left behind smirked and sneered upon seeing his prisoner. Kit opened the flap of a musky green tent, and shoved her inside, before securely closing the entrance. "Now do as I say, or you're a dead girl," he ordered as he took off his shirt. He turned his back on her, and rummaged through the messy table, looking for some thread and needle.
An amused smile formed on his lips as the girl stumbled a few paces away. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Kit asked. He let his head rest on a charred piece of wood among the ashes. It wouldn't be long before they discover James's body. People will be rounded up. Questions will be asked. Someone has to pay for a soldier's blood during peacetime. The other troops will tell them they remember the redhead staying behind with Kit and the Nazi girl. Then they'll send men out to look for her. They'll send dogs.
"You know they will kill you," he finally said, looking over to the silent brunette in front of him. "You could've ran away. Why didn't you? " However, he figured she didn't hear him, as the girl said nothing and immediately spun on her heels and ran. "Wait!" Kit shouted, as he struggled to get back up. The strain made blood ooze out of the wound on his leg, making him wince in pain. His head is swimming; the view in front of him keeps on going in and out of focus, but he has to move. He has to do something about the situation.
Suddenly, a bandaged hand appeared in front of him.
Kit accepted the offer, and let the blond help him back up to his feet. Two Allied soldiers had caught up with the girl, and are now dragging her back towards him. From beside him, Ed placed his hands on his hips, and strode over to Calloway's body.
"Poor son of a gun," the blond let out a low whistle as he turned the corpse over with the tip of his boot. "Our Superiors are gonna have a field day over this." Ed crouched and examined the bullet hole between James's lifeless green eyes. "Clean shot. That girl did this?" He stood back up and fished a cigarette from his pocket. He offered one to Kit, but the brunet declined. "She's definitely something alright."
They made her kneel and look up at him, so he can stare at her sharp eyes. There is anger in them, but he can tell from the way her bottom lip quivered that the girl is afraid. Ed and the others are quiet now, waiting for him to draw his gun. Some cases require trials, but shooting a soldier point blank during peacetime will always result in an immediate execution. Kit's head started to pound again, and he raised his hand to massage his temple. "Well Kit? Don't tell me you forgot how to shoot," the soldier with hazel eyes joked, as the rest of them chuckled. Kit's grey eyes met the brunette's gaze. From the earlier situation and the clean shot on Calloway's head, it's clear that the girl is some sort of operative or spy. But she had helped him, and he didn't know why. He looked at Ed, and the blond gave him his pistol. He flicked off the safety, and pointed the barrel of the gun at her head.
"Too pretty to die just yet," he repeated Calloway's words, finally thinking of a way out. He wrapped his calloused hands around the girl's slender neck, and jerked her up to her feet. "You're coming with me," he ordered, "and if you try anything, I'll put a bullet in you." Ed laughed and clapped Kit on the back. "What happened to 'I don't do that kind of thing,' huh?" the blonde asked him with a wolfish smile on his face, "I knew you'd give and eventually do it. Don't worry, we're not gonna tell your dad, do we boys?" The other two soldiers chuckled and started to walk back towards the barracks. "Just make sure to clean everything up when you're done, boy." Ed added as he waved and joined the others.
When they were farther up ahead, Kit dragged the brunette to the other side of the camp. The place is still empty, as the others are still doing raids at the far side of town. The few troops and personnel left behind smirked and sneered upon seeing his prisoner. Kit opened the flap of a musky green tent, and shoved her inside, before securely closing the entrance. "Now do as I say, or you're a dead girl," he ordered as he took off his shirt. He turned his back on her, and rummaged through the messy table, looking for some thread and needle.
sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
Soldiers were disgusting. She had learned that from her travels through several camps on both sides. These were the worst, without a doubt. Comments that they made had reached her ears multiple times before in different languages, but she had never had a gun to her head like this. Never had she been put in the situation where their taunts could become true. It was worse than death, what they spoke of. She wouldn't wish it even on her worst enemy. She would have taken the bullet any day, but they wouldn't let her decide that fate, his mind already seemed made. Still, that didn't stop her from glaring at him, frowning.
Each person they passed received a sharp glare from her. As she was shoved into the tent, she looked around quickly for something, anything that could help her. There wasn't much in eyesight. Her handgun had been taken from her by one of the soldiers who had grabbed her. Those damn soldiers who had left bruises on her arms and the man in the tent who caused her throat to ache from his grip. Her eyes now stayed glued to him, narrowed in dislike.
"I'm already a dead girl. I'd rather be dead than be forced with the likes of you." She snapped sharply, keeping her distance from him. Arms were folded over her chest, trying to remain strong in front of him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her frightened again. It was that feeling of pride that caused her to walk over to him, keeping her eyes on him. "I saved your life. I should have run when I had the chance. Let that scheißkerl kill you off." Her words were sharp, her glare firm.
'Try anything and I'll put a bullet in you.'
Those were his words. So, she balled her hand into a fist and lifted it to connect it with his jaw with all the strength she could muster before grabbing the pocket knife on the desk and ran to the flap of the tent to quickly unzip it. She would run, far away from here. Perhaps return to Germany with whatever information she had managed to gather. As long as she had her life. After all, it wouldn't be hard to outrun a man with a wound, surely. Even if she was caught, he would put a bullet in her if he was true to his word, he would kill her. She wouldn't give him any information, she wouldn't let him have a chance with her body. No one had before, it wouldn't start now.
The girl was still dressed as an American girl. Perhaps she could still pass for one. The damn tent wouldn't unzip enough for her to fit through it. She would have to try something else. The adrenaline in her was making her brain rush to actions.
"Help!" She cried out from the hole in the tent that she had managed to unzip. "He's taken me! Help!" Her American accent was good. "Please! He plans to hurt me! Please!" She cried out in a distressed voice. There had to be at least decent men around to save the damsel in distress. The girl was a good actress, enough that she had been able to have tears roll down her cheeks as she cried for help.
Each person they passed received a sharp glare from her. As she was shoved into the tent, she looked around quickly for something, anything that could help her. There wasn't much in eyesight. Her handgun had been taken from her by one of the soldiers who had grabbed her. Those damn soldiers who had left bruises on her arms and the man in the tent who caused her throat to ache from his grip. Her eyes now stayed glued to him, narrowed in dislike.
"I'm already a dead girl. I'd rather be dead than be forced with the likes of you." She snapped sharply, keeping her distance from him. Arms were folded over her chest, trying to remain strong in front of him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her frightened again. It was that feeling of pride that caused her to walk over to him, keeping her eyes on him. "I saved your life. I should have run when I had the chance. Let that scheißkerl kill you off." Her words were sharp, her glare firm.
'Try anything and I'll put a bullet in you.'
Those were his words. So, she balled her hand into a fist and lifted it to connect it with his jaw with all the strength she could muster before grabbing the pocket knife on the desk and ran to the flap of the tent to quickly unzip it. She would run, far away from here. Perhaps return to Germany with whatever information she had managed to gather. As long as she had her life. After all, it wouldn't be hard to outrun a man with a wound, surely. Even if she was caught, he would put a bullet in her if he was true to his word, he would kill her. She wouldn't give him any information, she wouldn't let him have a chance with her body. No one had before, it wouldn't start now.
The girl was still dressed as an American girl. Perhaps she could still pass for one. The damn tent wouldn't unzip enough for her to fit through it. She would have to try something else. The adrenaline in her was making her brain rush to actions.
"Help!" She cried out from the hole in the tent that she had managed to unzip. "He's taken me! Help!" Her American accent was good. "Please! He plans to hurt me! Please!" She cried out in a distressed voice. There had to be at least decent men around to save the damsel in distress. The girl was a good actress, enough that she had been able to have tears roll down her cheeks as she cried for help.
Svadilfari
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
He wasn't paying any attention to the girl behind him. His calloused fingers quickly ran over the items on the table, his grey eyes searching for the familiar red cross of a first aid kit. When it is nowhere in sight, he switched his attention to a small wooden drawer at the far end of the tent. He opened it up, and found a rucksack full of antiseptic. A box of needles and a spool of white thread rested at the bottom. Black spots started to dance in his vision, and Kit can feel himself grow heavier by the minute. Without wasting any time, he turned around to lay the items on the table, when the brunette socked him at the jaw. Kit stumbled back once, and groaned in pain.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" He growled as he pulled her away from the entrance, and swiftly dislodged the pocket knife out of her grip. The girl is now crying, and screaming for help in a perfect American accent. If he hadn't heard her earlier that morning speak in a different language, her acting could have fooled him. He restrained her arms behind her back as he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. He clamped his free hand over her mouth to quiet her down. "Are you an idiot? I'm trying to help you," he seethed, "If you think I'm gonna touch you like what that asshole wanted, you're dead wrong. I'm going to remove my hand, and I need you to quit shouting, okay?" He waited for her to nod to see if she understands.
Kit can hear the crunch of gravel and the sound of voices coming closer to the tent. He took a step backward and winced. A fresh stream of crimson is running down from the laceration at his side. He needed to close the gash, and fast. "Is everything alright there?" A throaty voice asked from behind the entrance. "Yeah, we're fine," Kit replied. He looked at the brunette beside him, and pulled her closer so he can whisper to her ear. "Follow my lead, and everything will be okay. Don't do anything stupid. I'm trying to help you. Don't get us both killed." Kit released the girl from his hold, and unzipped the tent. Two Allied soldiers had their guns drawn and loaded. The black-haired one looked past Kit to the girl behind him. "You there," he gestured to her, "you were screaming something. You alright?" Kit looked at the soldiers in front of him. Neither one was present at the earlier sweep. They couldn't have possibly known about the Spy. Chances are, the girl might convince them that he had been really hurting her. "She was just shocked when she saw my wounds. I asked her to fix me up, since the nurses aren't here yet. It's her first time out here, is all," Kit replied, but the man wasn't listening to him. " I'm asking her," the black haired soldier insisted.
sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
His words seemed genuine. She wanted to believe him. But his kind were all liars, she didn't want to just be another victim. Unsure of what to do, she simply remained quiet from behind him as he spoke with the soldiers, rubbing her arms lightly as she breathed shakily. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks, listening closely to their conversation. It wasn't until she was personally addressed by the soldier did she decide to speak up with a sniffle, hesitating as she glanced at Kit. With that glance, she noticed the stream of red from his wound. He was weak.
"I-I..." She kept her voice in such a soft tone, teary eyes looking at the soldiers. "He said he was going to..." She broke out into a sob and fell to her knees crying into her hands. "He grabbed me and pulled me in here, I tried to escape, but he wouldn't let me go. He was going to kill me like the other man." She sobbed, looking up at the two soldiers.
It was the soldier beside the black hair one that narrowed his eyes at the crying girl, before examining Kit. He had a wound, and this girl had been able to cry out for help. Something was off, and it was confirmed to him at her final words. The other man. The Nazi supporter that Kit had been assigned to kill. A smile appeared on his lips as he moved to approach the poor girl, offering a hand that she gladly accepted, having her rise to her feet. Word passed around quickly in camp, especially when it came to girls like this, girls who were anything but allies.
"Kit," He began, holding both of the girl's hands tightly. "Your day has been cleared." He announced, a single hand moving to hold both of the girl's wrists together, tying them together with a rope. "You have your first prisoner, congratulations." He chuckled lightly before shoving the girl over to him. "Get whatever you can out of her. Just don't keep her in a tent. Can't show any mercy to a Nazi bitch. There's plenty of trees to tie her to." In times of war, one had to be suspicious, to keep a sharp eye and ear out for odds things such as this girl's story. She had messed up. The realization was clear in her eyes as she stared up at the man.
"We'll figure out who knows she's here. See how many people would know if she's missing." He said simply, grinning at the girl, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. "I'm sure many would miss such a lovely face like that." With that, he gave her rear a firm squeeze before giving the tied wrists to Kit with a smile. "You did well, Kit. Keep it up." He said simply and nodded to the other soldier before leaving the tent.
Anna was silent.
"I-I..." She kept her voice in such a soft tone, teary eyes looking at the soldiers. "He said he was going to..." She broke out into a sob and fell to her knees crying into her hands. "He grabbed me and pulled me in here, I tried to escape, but he wouldn't let me go. He was going to kill me like the other man." She sobbed, looking up at the two soldiers.
It was the soldier beside the black hair one that narrowed his eyes at the crying girl, before examining Kit. He had a wound, and this girl had been able to cry out for help. Something was off, and it was confirmed to him at her final words. The other man. The Nazi supporter that Kit had been assigned to kill. A smile appeared on his lips as he moved to approach the poor girl, offering a hand that she gladly accepted, having her rise to her feet. Word passed around quickly in camp, especially when it came to girls like this, girls who were anything but allies.
"Kit," He began, holding both of the girl's hands tightly. "Your day has been cleared." He announced, a single hand moving to hold both of the girl's wrists together, tying them together with a rope. "You have your first prisoner, congratulations." He chuckled lightly before shoving the girl over to him. "Get whatever you can out of her. Just don't keep her in a tent. Can't show any mercy to a Nazi bitch. There's plenty of trees to tie her to." In times of war, one had to be suspicious, to keep a sharp eye and ear out for odds things such as this girl's story. She had messed up. The realization was clear in her eyes as she stared up at the man.
"We'll figure out who knows she's here. See how many people would know if she's missing." He said simply, grinning at the girl, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. "I'm sure many would miss such a lovely face like that." With that, he gave her rear a firm squeeze before giving the tied wrists to Kit with a smile. "You did well, Kit. Keep it up." He said simply and nodded to the other soldier before leaving the tent.
Anna was silent.
Svadilfari
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
Kit closed his eyes and groaned. He had made numerous bad decisions throughout the war that costed some lives, and now this will possibly cost his. He did not know what came over him that made him decide to save her, but now he instantly regretted it. He hoped that the two men in front of him can see the truth behind the girls tears, and spare him a beating. He watched in tempered anger as the blond offered a hand to the girl. The brunet was seconds away from telling the truth, when the soldier tied both of the girl's wrists together.
Kit let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He's lucky enough that at least one of the two men noticed that something was off. He's also lucky that the blond did not question him about why he was trying to cover up the situation. For the first time in that day, he finally felt at ease. However, when the soldiers left the two of them alone in the tent, the easy feeling was immediately replaced by weakness. Conjuring up whatever was left of his strength, Kit loosened the knot on her ties, and draped an arm around her before he lost his balance. "Don't... Don't even... think about running away," he said in between breaths, "you've... made your situation worse than... it was. I could... could've easily snuck you out."
The room is spinning in circles in his vision. And the temperature inside is incredibly hot. After a couple of steps, Kit fell on his knees and began to cough out blood. He can feel his skin burning, and at this point, he doesn't know if the heat is coming from the room, or if it's just him. Maybe it's the leftover radiation from the earlier bombs. Maybe he's just having a fever. Or maybe, he's just dying. "First aid kit," he winced, "table." After a couple of excruciating minutes, he managed to get himself to a sitting position.
For the first time in a long time, Kit started laughing. The girl probably thought he had gone crazy by now. He just finds it amusing that he survived the war, but is now going to die because of a stupid fight. And it wasn't even between him and a German, but an Allied soldier. His own brother in arms. How ironic. Kit's grey eyes searched for the brunette in the dim light. He can make out her silhouette, blurred by the glaze forming on his eyes. "You have no reason to help me now," he began slowly, "but if I die, the others will...get their way with you. You've seen how they are." Without waiting for her response, he closed his eyes.
sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
His words were true, she knew that. Sadly enough, he was her last hope now. That didn't stop her from frowning and moving to look in the first aid kit, shaking her head a bit. She silently moved to the desk in the tent to grab a cloth and antiseptic before kneeling on the ground beside him. She cleaned out his wound, remaining silent for the time being as she worked. Once the wound was clean, she soaking the cloth in the cool water in a bucket in the tent and placed it on his forehead. He had a fever. It would pass soon enough.
"You're lucky I'm here," She told him simply, her natural accent returning to her words as she closed up the wound with the needle and thread. Grabbing his arm, she helped him up and to the bed, making sure the pillows were propped up well for him. A wounded American was her last hope. How pathetic. "Get some rest. You will be better soon." It would take a while for the wound to heal, a few days before it closed. But the fever should pass after some rest, especially with the cloth on his head.
There had to be a way out of this. Enough where she could get far away from the camp and to a boat or an airplane that would take her to Germany hopefully. With her arms folded over her chest, she frowned down at the man on the bed before cleaning up the first aid kit and placed it on the desk, keeping her eyes on him cautiously. Of course, she was uncertain of him. She was practically his prisoner now. A prisoner to the Americans. For now at least, just until she would escape. Soon enough she would escape. She had to. There was no option for her, she wouldn't put herself in the position of giving up any information, and she had plenty.
For now, she leaned against the desk, watching him. If he fell asleep, maybe then she could make her escape. Wait until it became dark to make her way far away from her.
No one knew where exactly she was. There were only a few Nazi leaders that knew of her and kept track of her. But she wasn't important enough to waste time or men on, she knew that. Hopefully, time would pass quickly around her. Sadly, it did not. It felt like ages. Eventually, she had fallen asleep on the ground, leaning against the desk, knees to her chest as she slept peacefully. Well, as peacefully as one could in such a situation as this. She hadn't realized how tired she had been from the day. Or how hungry. But there was no food in the tent that she could find, so sleep it was.
By the time morning came, she cursed to herself in what the normal American would call Gibberish. It was Russian, of course. She had missed her chance. After rubbing her eyes quickly and catching her balance, she moved to peek out of the tent carefully. The camp was practically swarming with men now.
"You're lucky I'm here," She told him simply, her natural accent returning to her words as she closed up the wound with the needle and thread. Grabbing his arm, she helped him up and to the bed, making sure the pillows were propped up well for him. A wounded American was her last hope. How pathetic. "Get some rest. You will be better soon." It would take a while for the wound to heal, a few days before it closed. But the fever should pass after some rest, especially with the cloth on his head.
There had to be a way out of this. Enough where she could get far away from the camp and to a boat or an airplane that would take her to Germany hopefully. With her arms folded over her chest, she frowned down at the man on the bed before cleaning up the first aid kit and placed it on the desk, keeping her eyes on him cautiously. Of course, she was uncertain of him. She was practically his prisoner now. A prisoner to the Americans. For now at least, just until she would escape. Soon enough she would escape. She had to. There was no option for her, she wouldn't put herself in the position of giving up any information, and she had plenty.
For now, she leaned against the desk, watching him. If he fell asleep, maybe then she could make her escape. Wait until it became dark to make her way far away from her.
No one knew where exactly she was. There were only a few Nazi leaders that knew of her and kept track of her. But she wasn't important enough to waste time or men on, she knew that. Hopefully, time would pass quickly around her. Sadly, it did not. It felt like ages. Eventually, she had fallen asleep on the ground, leaning against the desk, knees to her chest as she slept peacefully. Well, as peacefully as one could in such a situation as this. She hadn't realized how tired she had been from the day. Or how hungry. But there was no food in the tent that she could find, so sleep it was.
By the time morning came, she cursed to herself in what the normal American would call Gibberish. It was Russian, of course. She had missed her chance. After rubbing her eyes quickly and catching her balance, she moved to peek out of the tent carefully. The camp was practically swarming with men now.
Svadilfari
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
When he was little, his mother would do his bandages for him. She'd tie her light brown hair in a messy ponytail, and offer him a comforting smile. "It will be fine sweetie. You will be fine," she'll say, while strands of her hair falls over her eyes as she wipes away the blood and the dirt with a washcloth. Then she'll hold him until the sting from the soap is gone from the wound, and ever so gently, places a kiss on top of it, before wrapping it up in layers of warm cloth. His mother always smelled like lavenders, and when she leaves her kisses, the scent stays behind. Eleanor Walker had always been there to patch up the wounds in the family, and when she died, there was no one left around to do it. The wound of her loss never fully healed, and the scent of lavenders slowly faded away through the years.
Kit let the girl fix up the laceration on his bloody side. He leaned his head back to rest on the bed, as he tried to keep his eyes open. That's one of the things they taught them during their training. Always keep one eye open soldier. Never sleep. If you do, you're a dead man. The brunet winced in pain as the pressure is applied. He doesn't know how long he can keep this up; his eyelids are growing heavier, and the sound around him begins to distort as if he's trapped in a glass bowl filled with water. He can hear the girl say something, but he couldn't understand what she's saying.
Within minutes, the fever and the loss of blood is starting to take its toll on his body. Kit's breathing became irregular, and he began to see things that weren't there. First, it was James Calloway with a bullet hole on his forehead, saying that he'll die just like him. Then, it was his mother, standing near the tent's entrance, looking sadly at him while telling him that everything will be fine. Kit blinked twice and raised his hands to rub his eyes. He knows he's hallucinating; they can't be real. His mother died a long time ago, and this one didn't smell like lavenders. Instead, she smelled like smoke, ashes, and death. After a short while, he closed his eyes, and didn't open them for a long time.
----------
"I told you not to think about it," Kit's gravelly voice disrupted the silence in the dim tent. It's now early in the morning, and the troops are back from the second sweep. He had woken up at the middle of the night and hadn't been able to sleep since. His fever had passed by then, but his body is still sore from yesterday's beatings. He slowly got up from the bed, and picked up the tray of provisions he had gotten earlier while the brunette was still asleep. He sat on the floor next to her, and pushed the tray towards her. "I had mine a while ago. It's all yours, " he offered. "Thank you for... this," he gestured to the stitches. Before she can take a bite of the food however, Kit pulled the tray back towards him. The girl might have saved his life twice, but her actions hadn't changed the fact that she 's still a spy for the Nazis. "Here's what's going to happen," the brunet began, "I'll let you have a bite for each information you give me. I think that's fair enough." Kit's grey eyes met the girl's blue ones, and he held her gaze, waiting for a response.
Kit let the girl fix up the laceration on his bloody side. He leaned his head back to rest on the bed, as he tried to keep his eyes open. That's one of the things they taught them during their training. Always keep one eye open soldier. Never sleep. If you do, you're a dead man. The brunet winced in pain as the pressure is applied. He doesn't know how long he can keep this up; his eyelids are growing heavier, and the sound around him begins to distort as if he's trapped in a glass bowl filled with water. He can hear the girl say something, but he couldn't understand what she's saying.
Within minutes, the fever and the loss of blood is starting to take its toll on his body. Kit's breathing became irregular, and he began to see things that weren't there. First, it was James Calloway with a bullet hole on his forehead, saying that he'll die just like him. Then, it was his mother, standing near the tent's entrance, looking sadly at him while telling him that everything will be fine. Kit blinked twice and raised his hands to rub his eyes. He knows he's hallucinating; they can't be real. His mother died a long time ago, and this one didn't smell like lavenders. Instead, she smelled like smoke, ashes, and death. After a short while, he closed his eyes, and didn't open them for a long time.
----------
"I told you not to think about it," Kit's gravelly voice disrupted the silence in the dim tent. It's now early in the morning, and the troops are back from the second sweep. He had woken up at the middle of the night and hadn't been able to sleep since. His fever had passed by then, but his body is still sore from yesterday's beatings. He slowly got up from the bed, and picked up the tray of provisions he had gotten earlier while the brunette was still asleep. He sat on the floor next to her, and pushed the tray towards her. "I had mine a while ago. It's all yours, " he offered. "Thank you for... this," he gestured to the stitches. Before she can take a bite of the food however, Kit pulled the tray back towards him. The girl might have saved his life twice, but her actions hadn't changed the fact that she 's still a spy for the Nazis. "Here's what's going to happen," the brunet began, "I'll let you have a bite for each information you give me. I think that's fair enough." Kit's grey eyes met the girl's blue ones, and he held her gaze, waiting for a response.
sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
Frowning, the girl looked up at him, at his comment. Still, she continued to think about it often. Who wouldn't in her position? When he pushed the tray of food towards her, she looked relieved for a moment before he pulled it back away from her. The usual frown returned to her lips, staring up at him as she listened carefully, narrowing her eyes. The words seemed far from fair. Either way, it seemed she'd lose her life either for betraying the Nazi's or from starvation. Perhaps the man was enough of a fool that she could talk her way out of it.
"I'm Russian, an ally of you Americans. All the information I know is about the allies." She said simply before reaching over to swiftly grab a chunk of bread and pulling her hand back away. "There are Nazi's all over. There's your piece of information." The statement was vague and simple. Anyone with a brain would know there were Nazi's all over. No doubt the girl was cunning, lying came easily to her especially like this. There was no chance she would give up information. The Nazi's were much crueler than Americans. They could both be cruel, but Nazi's had nothing to stop their cruelty. Americans had soldiers who weren't interested in cruelty and a leader who was against said cruelty.
Her eyes glanced to the patched up wound of his, almost as if she was trying to evaluate it. After all, he was still her only means of protection at the moment. She had to keep him alive for now, just until she got out of here at least. Then, she didn't care what happened to him. By then, he wasn't valuable to her. That was how she lived. It was sad in a way, certainly lonely. But it was a time of war, dangerous for someone who was in as deep as she was. Perhaps when it was all over she could start new. To her, it didn't matter much as to who won the war.
Sitting on the ground, she leaned on her hand on the ground, legs bent beside her as she stared up at him, taking a bite of the bread with an innocent enough smile on her lips. "When can I leave?" She finally asked, tilting her head slightly, taking another bite. Russians and Americans did not get along, the was no doubt in that. They were able to get along enough against Germany, but there wasn't much trust or friendliness in the relationship between the two countries.
"I'm Russian, an ally of you Americans. All the information I know is about the allies." She said simply before reaching over to swiftly grab a chunk of bread and pulling her hand back away. "There are Nazi's all over. There's your piece of information." The statement was vague and simple. Anyone with a brain would know there were Nazi's all over. No doubt the girl was cunning, lying came easily to her especially like this. There was no chance she would give up information. The Nazi's were much crueler than Americans. They could both be cruel, but Nazi's had nothing to stop their cruelty. Americans had soldiers who weren't interested in cruelty and a leader who was against said cruelty.
Her eyes glanced to the patched up wound of his, almost as if she was trying to evaluate it. After all, he was still her only means of protection at the moment. She had to keep him alive for now, just until she got out of here at least. Then, she didn't care what happened to him. By then, he wasn't valuable to her. That was how she lived. It was sad in a way, certainly lonely. But it was a time of war, dangerous for someone who was in as deep as she was. Perhaps when it was all over she could start new. To her, it didn't matter much as to who won the war.
Sitting on the ground, she leaned on her hand on the ground, legs bent beside her as she stared up at him, taking a bite of the bread with an innocent enough smile on her lips. "When can I leave?" She finally asked, tilting her head slightly, taking another bite. Russians and Americans did not get along, the was no doubt in that. They were able to get along enough against Germany, but there wasn't much trust or friendliness in the relationship between the two countries.
Svadilfari
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
She tilted her head and plastered an innocent smile across her face. The details she gave was worthless at best, and he had a feeling that it wouldn't be easy extracting information from her, given how lies easily passed from her lips. Kit ran a weary hand through his messy hair, and returned her smile. If she likes playing games so much, he has no problem playing along with her. He had noticed her gaze at his wounds before, and he knows that the only reason he's still alive is because he's not like the others. And if pretending to be like them is what it takes to break her stubbornness, then so be it. One way or another, he's going to find out what she knows, and report it back to the General. This war won't be over until all their enemies are neutralized.
"Not until you start being honest with me," Kit replied as he moved closer to her. When they are inches apart, the brunet gently placed his calloused hands on her shoulders, and pulled her closer to him. His touch is gentle, but firm enough to secure her so she couldn't wrestle free. He let his hands slide slowly to her arms, before moving his lips closer to her ear. "Let's try this again," he breathed, "I'll stop doing this, until you tell me everything that you know." Without waiting for her response, Kit started feathering kisses down her neck, stopping when his lips reached her collarbone. "Let's start with your real name," he mumbled against her skin, waiting for her to say something.
Kit can feel his heart pounding loudly from his chest. Even though he had done numerous interrogations, he certainly hadn't done it this way. The last time he was this close to a woman happened a long time ago, back at the States with his girlfriend Clara. Now, he doesn't even know where she is, or what happened to her. He had written her letters, but she never sent a single one back. After a moment, he slowly trailed kisses back up her neck, before lingering at a spot next to her lips. "Who do you work for?" he murmured, daring her to try and disobey.
sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
Feeling him move closer to her was what caused the girl to attempt to move away, but his hand was firm on her shoulder to keep her in place. She swallowed hard, watching him with furrowed eyebrows, taking a few deep breaths. She knew perfectly well what he was trying to do to her. In fact, she had done it so many times to others. Not to install fear into them like this was, but to distract them enough to give information. Her head turned away from him with a frown feeling the light kisses, taking a shaky breath. She remained silent, glaring at a spot in the tent.
He hadn't given her any proof that he would do such an act, not like the others. Still, she didn't want to test it. "I save your life and this is how you repay me?" Her voice was a bit shaky but she spoke through gritted teeth. Soldiers went long without a woman's touch, it was what made them so weak when it came to girls. It was why the poor girls were forced into certain positions. Trusting him would have been a mistake. It wasn't trust that she had put in him, more like hope. Hope that he wouldn't hurt her like the others would. But that had been such a ridiculous thought now that she was able to reflect.
For someone like her, she was physically strong to a point. But nothing compared to a soldier's strength. Especially when surrounded by them in a camp where she was now. A known enemy. It didn't help feeling his heartbeat increase from how close they were. She wanted to believe he was only playing a trick with her, but it was hard to keep herself from revealing any signs of fear from him. Maybe if it hadn't felt so real she would have played along. But she was afraid that if she did it would only endanger her more.
"My name is Maya,"
There was no way for him to know if she was lying or not, surely. With those words, she hesitantly turned her head back to meet his gaze. "And I told you, I'm an ally. I don't work for anyone. I'm just... Multilingual." She tried to give him a small smile, the best she could. But she was afraid. It was easier to go with the lie that she was an ally so that she wasn't killed.
He hadn't given her any proof that he would do such an act, not like the others. Still, she didn't want to test it. "I save your life and this is how you repay me?" Her voice was a bit shaky but she spoke through gritted teeth. Soldiers went long without a woman's touch, it was what made them so weak when it came to girls. It was why the poor girls were forced into certain positions. Trusting him would have been a mistake. It wasn't trust that she had put in him, more like hope. Hope that he wouldn't hurt her like the others would. But that had been such a ridiculous thought now that she was able to reflect.
For someone like her, she was physically strong to a point. But nothing compared to a soldier's strength. Especially when surrounded by them in a camp where she was now. A known enemy. It didn't help feeling his heartbeat increase from how close they were. She wanted to believe he was only playing a trick with her, but it was hard to keep herself from revealing any signs of fear from him. Maybe if it hadn't felt so real she would have played along. But she was afraid that if she did it would only endanger her more.
"My name is Maya,"
There was no way for him to know if she was lying or not, surely. With those words, she hesitantly turned her head back to meet his gaze. "And I told you, I'm an ally. I don't work for anyone. I'm just... Multilingual." She tried to give him a small smile, the best she could. But she was afraid. It was easier to go with the lie that she was an ally so that she wasn't killed.
Svadilfari
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
Wrong answer. Kit chuckled; the girl is just as stubborn as he is. "Alright Maya," he breathed as he nipped at the base of her neck, "what's your last name so I can confirm it with the database?" The Government had lent copies of their files and devices to the troops before sending them to Germany; the indexes contains all the names of their allies and undercover operatives. It helped them capture and execute innumerable traitors and spies both in the field, at back at the base. If the girl is telling the truth, her name should be on the list, clear as day.
At this point, the brunet's breathing is getting heavier. He can feel the blood creep up to his neck, towards his cheeks, and to the tips of his ears. The longer he kept the act going, the faster his heart beat begins to protest. Every beat sends warning signals to his brain.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
"If I don't find your name there," he began as he slowly traced the fabric strap on her shoulder with his fingers, "we'll get back to this situation, and I don't think I'll be able to trust myself to stop anymore." Caleb pulled back from her by a bit, so he can meet her gaze. Seriousness is evident from the look on his deep-grey eyes, and also something other. Hunger. Yearning. Fear. He hadn't been dishonest to her, not even once. And he wished he was lying when he told her that he might lose control of himself, but he isn't. There is a reason why honest men like James and Ed went weak to women during and after the war, and now, he found out the reason the wrong way.
"So what's it going to be, Maya," he murmured to her ear, "do you want me to go out there to confirm your name?" Caleb tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Or do you want me to stay here while you tell me the truth?"
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sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
The closer he got to her, the more she tried to pull away from him, watching him. Tears were beginning to threaten her eyes, so she blinked quickly. She wasn't as strong and hard as she would have liked to be around someone like him. Her eyes tried to remain on him while her lips remained closed, taking deep and shaky breaths through her nose. The more he touched her the more afraid she felt. It was enough to make her tempted to speak. But it wasn't enough to make her speak. There was still the threats Nazi's held, their cruelty if she spoke made her current situation look like a walk in the park.
Finally, her lips opened for a moment, only enough to speak a few words while her teary eyes made eye contact with his.
"You're going to have to kill me."
Her words were simple. She wasn't going to give up anything to him. If she did, she would be killed here or tormented further. Even if by the rare chance they let her go, they would use the information to their advantage and she would be put through whatever torture the Nazi's would have in store for her. They would out, she knew they would. It was that fear that they had installed into her that kept her silence, her stubbornness.
If there had not been that fear, Anna would have gladly given up any information to go free. She certainly wasn't loyal to the German bastards. There was no way she would be loyal to people like that. Not with how they treated people. Despite her hard mask, she was a kind person, a warm soul who hated seeing unfairness and the horrors of the world. Perhaps that was why she had risked her life for the man yesterday. He had been pleading for help, she couldn't simply ignore it, cheer for the death of an innocent like those around her.
Blue eyes remained glued onto him, eve as the tent flap opened to reveal Ed, chuckling for a moment at the sight. With a small shake of his head, he put his hands up. "Sorry to interrupt." He grinned at Kit. "General heard the news. Wants to see you." He said, nodding a bit to the girl with a smirk and a small shrug. "He didn't say immediately. Feel free to finish before bringing her. Maybe the rest of us can have some fun with her too. Haven't seen many women in a while." He chuckled again before giving a brief nod to Kit and exiting the tent.
A single tear had now managed to escape her eyes, that she quickly wiped away, looking away from the soldier in front of her. She made a point to keep her chin up.
Finally, her lips opened for a moment, only enough to speak a few words while her teary eyes made eye contact with his.
"You're going to have to kill me."
Her words were simple. She wasn't going to give up anything to him. If she did, she would be killed here or tormented further. Even if by the rare chance they let her go, they would use the information to their advantage and she would be put through whatever torture the Nazi's would have in store for her. They would out, she knew they would. It was that fear that they had installed into her that kept her silence, her stubbornness.
If there had not been that fear, Anna would have gladly given up any information to go free. She certainly wasn't loyal to the German bastards. There was no way she would be loyal to people like that. Not with how they treated people. Despite her hard mask, she was a kind person, a warm soul who hated seeing unfairness and the horrors of the world. Perhaps that was why she had risked her life for the man yesterday. He had been pleading for help, she couldn't simply ignore it, cheer for the death of an innocent like those around her.
Blue eyes remained glued onto him, eve as the tent flap opened to reveal Ed, chuckling for a moment at the sight. With a small shake of his head, he put his hands up. "Sorry to interrupt." He grinned at Kit. "General heard the news. Wants to see you." He said, nodding a bit to the girl with a smirk and a small shrug. "He didn't say immediately. Feel free to finish before bringing her. Maybe the rest of us can have some fun with her too. Haven't seen many women in a while." He chuckled again before giving a brief nod to Kit and exiting the tent.
A single tear had now managed to escape her eyes, that she quickly wiped away, looking away from the soldier in front of her. She made a point to keep her chin up.
Svadilfari
Svadilfari
The mediocre Gatsby
The brunet's grey eyes followed Ed's retreating form from outside the tent. The blond's sudden interruption was like a splash of cold water across his face. The dangerous high he was feeling just moments ago was suddenly replaced by disgust at the soldier's blatant comment. A part of him wanted to apologize to her for his actions, but the years of training imbedded in his mind told him that he did the right thing. He got what he wanted: a confession. Or at least, the start of it.
Caleb ran a weary hand through his messy brown hair, and slowly exhaled. They were right; the girl is working for the Axis. And if what she said earlier is the truth, that she knows Allied information, then their enemies might have some advantage over them; a classified strategy at the last minute. The question is, what does she know?
The General. David. His father. The kind of guy that wouldn't take no for an answer. Caleb looked at the girl in front of him. He can see the quiet fear in her eyes, despite her defiant stare. She had looked away from him moments ago, when she tried to hide the tear that ran down her flushed cheek. But he saw it, and couldn't understand why she's so afraid to tell him the truth. The war is almost over. No one could possibly hurt her for releasing information, could there? Unless she knows something else. Or hiding someone else. Someone dangerous.
"Hey, look at me," he began. The tone of his voice is different now. Gone is the commanding seriousness, replaced by gentleness and concern. He moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but hesitated and pulled back. She's probably repulsed with his touch right now, and with his earlier actions, he couldn't blame her. "Whatever you're hiding, you can trust me with it, okay?" He held her gaze to show her his sincerity. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you, and I never will. And I... I promise that I won't let anyone hurt you. " He stared into her frightened blue eyes. "But I can't do that unless you tell me what I need to know. My father..." He furrowed his brows, and looked away. "The General... He's not like me. He's... Let's just say he's going to get what he wants sooner or later. And I can't do anything to stop him. So please..." Caleb held out his hand to the brunette. "Let me help you. Tell me what I need to know before this whole situation goes to hell."
Caleb ran a weary hand through his messy brown hair, and slowly exhaled. They were right; the girl is working for the Axis. And if what she said earlier is the truth, that she knows Allied information, then their enemies might have some advantage over them; a classified strategy at the last minute. The question is, what does she know?
The General. David. His father. The kind of guy that wouldn't take no for an answer. Caleb looked at the girl in front of him. He can see the quiet fear in her eyes, despite her defiant stare. She had looked away from him moments ago, when she tried to hide the tear that ran down her flushed cheek. But he saw it, and couldn't understand why she's so afraid to tell him the truth. The war is almost over. No one could possibly hurt her for releasing information, could there? Unless she knows something else. Or hiding someone else. Someone dangerous.
"Hey, look at me," he began. The tone of his voice is different now. Gone is the commanding seriousness, replaced by gentleness and concern. He moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but hesitated and pulled back. She's probably repulsed with his touch right now, and with his earlier actions, he couldn't blame her. "Whatever you're hiding, you can trust me with it, okay?" He held her gaze to show her his sincerity. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you, and I never will. And I... I promise that I won't let anyone hurt you. " He stared into her frightened blue eyes. "But I can't do that unless you tell me what I need to know. My father..." He furrowed his brows, and looked away. "The General... He's not like me. He's... Let's just say he's going to get what he wants sooner or later. And I can't do anything to stop him. So please..." Caleb held out his hand to the brunette. "Let me help you. Tell me what I need to know before this whole situation goes to hell."
sodium
"no more pomegranates!" - demeter
The girl looked reluctant as she stared up at him, a shaky hand accepting his hand as she slowly rose to her feet. After swallowing hard, she thought about her next words carefully. Her next words were to decide her fate. The man seemed mostly genuine, but only minutes ago was threatening her with his touch. There was something odd about that, most soldiers that she met had such a harsh and rough touch. But not him. She wanted to believe he wasn't like the others. It was hard for her to trust anyone. Especially and ally soldier.
"My..." She was struggling, keeping her eyes on him as her hand continued to hold onto his tightly. "My name is Anastasia Markov. I'm paid to spy and gather information for them." She told him, keeping her voice quiet, tears still in her eyes despite trying to fight against them. Even saying the name 'Nazi' was hard for her. Deep down, she was ashamed for letting herself do their bidding.
Once they knew you, there was no way getting out.
Only a few times had she met a General, she usually spoke with soldiers. But Generals were harder than the average soldier, they were more loyal to their causes. They were often cruel, certainly frightening, and harsher than the average soldier. Especially when it came to a girl like her. However, there were the older ones. The ones who were impossible to get anything from, the ones who had no interest in a woman. Those who had nothing but loyalty for them. Not even a threat on their life would break them. Those were the frustrating ones. The ones who would kill her in an instant.
"They're cruel... They won't just kill me if they know I've betrayed them."
Perhaps this was a man who could stay true to his word. Unlikely, but it didn't seem that she had much of a choice. Her teary eyes had now become pleading as she looked up at him. Maybe he would give her some mercy at the least, for saving his life from that red haired man. She even stitched his wound for him. She was the reason he was still alive at the moment. Surely that had to mean something, even to someone like him.
Her cheekbones were sharp and now held a few tears. The gaze of her sharp blue eyes was steady, refusing to look away from his eyes. Lying didn't seem to work this time. She really messed up big time this time. Honestly, she was screwed either way. There was nowhere she could run. She had tried, it didn't work.
"My..." She was struggling, keeping her eyes on him as her hand continued to hold onto his tightly. "My name is Anastasia Markov. I'm paid to spy and gather information for them." She told him, keeping her voice quiet, tears still in her eyes despite trying to fight against them. Even saying the name 'Nazi' was hard for her. Deep down, she was ashamed for letting herself do their bidding.
Once they knew you, there was no way getting out.
Only a few times had she met a General, she usually spoke with soldiers. But Generals were harder than the average soldier, they were more loyal to their causes. They were often cruel, certainly frightening, and harsher than the average soldier. Especially when it came to a girl like her. However, there were the older ones. The ones who were impossible to get anything from, the ones who had no interest in a woman. Those who had nothing but loyalty for them. Not even a threat on their life would break them. Those were the frustrating ones. The ones who would kill her in an instant.
"They're cruel... They won't just kill me if they know I've betrayed them."
Perhaps this was a man who could stay true to his word. Unlikely, but it didn't seem that she had much of a choice. Her teary eyes had now become pleading as she looked up at him. Maybe he would give her some mercy at the least, for saving his life from that red haired man. She even stitched his wound for him. She was the reason he was still alive at the moment. Surely that had to mean something, even to someone like him.
Her cheekbones were sharp and now held a few tears. The gaze of her sharp blue eyes was steady, refusing to look away from his eyes. Lying didn't seem to work this time. She really messed up big time this time. Honestly, she was screwed either way. There was nowhere she could run. She had tried, it didn't work.
Svadilfari
