ƒαìт αccσмρℓì - - { private } - -

[OuEstLaCraie]

lover • figher • dreamer • schemer • mother

There was a tiny sliver of solace to be found in this rather bizarre and slightly frightening situation - Eponine now knew that she wasn't going crazy. All the time, the strange feeling twisting her stomach into knots and making it harder and harder for her to breath had been a stranger's eyes - an invader's eyes - on her back, watching her every step, from the café where she had met friends for coffee all the way home to the front stoop of her apartment building. He didn't say a word all the time; she wouldn't have noticed him had he not suddenly quickened his steps to halt her entrance into hrer home - to safety. Her eyes went wide with terror for only a brief instant, fear for herself, her future, and for her son's safety, if she were to be hauled in for interrogation and - mon Dieu! - sent to prison, far from him. And then, like so many times before since this damn war had begun, the fear turned to hard, cold anger, a white-hot rage simmering just below the surface and threatening to bubble over with every beat of her heart and every second she was forced to be face-to-face with the German enemy.

He had one hand on the door, blocking her escape, and then paused. Hesitated? She wouldn't - couldn't - give him any credit, couldn't spare him even a single passing, positive thought; she convinced herself he was just new to this. She knew all too well what happened to the young French girls who allowed themselves to get cornered by the enemy. Their fate on the homefront was nearly as terrible as the deaths suffered by their husbands, sons, and brothers on the front lines - some beaten for refusing to sell their bodies, some impregnated with a b*****d child they could never love, some scarred for the rest of their lives. This one, though, well...he seemed young, idealistic, and not entirely the top to decide to rape a girl on the spot. But you could never be too careful around these men, and even though his voice was soft (and, she couldn't help but notice, his words in her native tongue), as he raised his hand, Eponine's muscles tightened for a quick reaction.

She judged her options in the split second before his hand could come so close as to caress her skin. She couldn't get inside; now, with his other hand corraling her onto the stoop, she couldn't run back to the streets and away from here, either. She was trapped and, if she didn't act fast, nothing good could come of this. He was handsome, probably charming - he was still German. That was the worst sin a man could commit in France in these times. Murderers were excused, rapists pardoned, and burglars praised for stealing from the rich to give to the poor, but Germans were condemned to the deepest circle of Hell. His hand twitched closer; she knew she wouldn't stand a chance in a fight. But she had to try - for herself, and for 'Jolras. He deserved better than a mother who would submit to whatever atrocities this foreigner had planned for her.

She hardly knew what she was doing until the action was complete. Eponine had no combat training, no natural skill for fighting, but she had grace and agility many others lacked, to be used to her advantage. "Get your hands off of me, you b*****d," she snarled through her teeth, the dim flames of rage fanned by her imagined threat, and whipped out a hand slap him clear across the face, then bent under his arm and let a thin elbow fly into the middle of his back, hoping to throw him off-balance or, at least, give herself a moment to recueprate.

"You," she said roughly, breathing heavily and jabbing a finger in the German's direction. "I know what you and your friends do to my friends and family. It's bad enough we're forced to let you eat our food and warm our beds, but to force yourselves into the most private sectors of our lives...? Ridiculous!

" Slowly, Eponine began backing down the stoop, hoping to make a clean getaway if the need arose. "You speak to our children and...and you hurt anyone who stands in your way..." She couldn't think of anything worse to say, but she felt sufficiently proud of herself, so she spat angrily on the ground at his feet, her mouth in a thin, hard line of contained anger. "And I hope I didn't hurt you enough to let you get sent home, because you don't deserve it!"

And suddenly, it occured to her...did the soldier even speak French...?

вìєи des choses à тσυs,

O O C : HAHAHAHAHAH oh my God, I ADORE that picture♥

Oh, and I apologize for the funkiness in the middle of the post - I don't know what's up with the coding...

[momo the momi]

Fritzi Fritzi Fritzi

ritz felt dumbfounded at just how such a sweet and graceful woman could turn so suddenly, into a fiery temperamental female from Hell; but considering the facts, he'd have to relent. After all, to her, he was just a blood thirsty German, no better than the dog s**t she might step in, on her way home. In fact, the young soldier, didn't really consider himself with much high regard, so he'd certainly not hold it against a captive in her own country. But even more importantly, even with his pride a little hurt that a woman got the upper hand on him (a fact he convinced himself was only plausible because he'd been so distracted), Fritz still looked back at her with awe. With everything she faced, with all the possibilities of him having her killed for her insubordination, she still risked it. And to a man who never risked anything a day in his life, a man who always played it safe, this brave young woman standing before him, enticed him even more.

But still, as nice (and resonable) of a guy Fritz was, he couldn't help but take it a little personally. Hell, he thought was being nice enough; okay, so the touching part was creepy. But he really was baffled with her eyes. Yet, this time, when he stared at her again; listened to her angry words, those same eyes seemed to gloss over with a fury unknown to him. Sure, he'd seen angry eyes glare back at him as he walked by every other French person he crossed, but this was different. She was different.

And so he'd have to treat her differently if he wanted to get anywhere . . .

Tugging at his hat, he slid it off his blond-brown hair. And holding it in front of him, up against his chest, Fritz tried to look a little less intimdating. His features softening, he finally spoke up, "Papers please." He didn't want to scare her, in fact, it was a simple enough request coming from a German soldier, but he wasn't going to write her up . . . he simply wanted to know her name. Waiting for her to hand them over, Fritz continued, with a little more honesty now, "I can only speak a little French - phrases really. German or English?" He'd hope for the latter. Though she most likely spoke German, he'd understand if she'd refused to speak it on principle. And besides, though most could speak English, not everyone could, and it might just give them a little more privacy in such a large city. Yes, English would better.

As he outstretched his hand, he wasn't sure if she'd fight him on handing over her papers, but he doubted it. No matter how angry you were at the Germans, it was never a good idea to get them angry. Not knowing whether she'd understand his English or not, he spoke in it anyway, ". . . And I don't deserve it, but I want to go home."

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ooc; oh my God. How could I let more than a week go by? I promise as soon as I catch up on all the posts in HOFAH, I'll post. I will try desperatly to do so tonight. Again really sorry! I hate to blame it on my rl stuff going on right now, but that's what's going on - ugh, I feel bad! Something to cheer us both up though, this case manager for my brother is a war baby! She has a French mother and an American father - and what's even better is her parent's best friends were a German/French couple who met during the war (just like Eponine and Fritz! XD ). Now those had to be some interesting dinner dates ;P

[OuEstLaCraie]

lover • figher • dreamer • schemer • mother

Still heated by her tiny skirmish, Eponine wrenched the papers from her coat and waved them in his face before putting them in his hand for him to examine. She thought fleetingly that, hopefully, they were good enough to fool the German, then let the thought float away. She was too angry to care either way, at this point.

Eponine's first language was French, her proud native tongue, and though she hadn't seen the use in learning others, her parents and teachers had insisted. German was more or less a must, as was English, plus a dabbling in some elementary Spanish. German was out - both because she took offense to the hard-accented language (for obvious reasons) and because she had never gotten much of a grasp for it. Her English was better, if only a little, enough to get her by. But, as the soldier admitted he didn't know much of he beloved language, she couldn't help but retort, in cold French, "Next time you got about invading other people's countries, stomping your boots and waving your banners, perhaps you should take the time to learn their language."

He'd softened, which, for an instant, made her want to take back every word she'd said and apologize. But that was, undoubtedly, exactly what he wanted her to do - to let herself melt at this first show of chivalry, to be swayed to the cause, if only a bit, by his good looks and charm and "kindness." Well, she'd seen through him, and he wasn't going to get such a reaction.

". . . And I don't deserve it, but I want to go home."

Glaring angrily over his shoulder, back up the stoop to the apartment building's front door, she replied icily "So do I." Wincing, she added politely, "May I?"

вìєи des choses à тσυs,

O O C : Absolutely no rush - real life is infinitely more important than a roleplay on Gaia. Even if it is epic ^^ I'm going back to school next week, anyway, so my posts won't be as frequent, unfortunately.

Haha, that story - what a coincidence! And I wonder...what do you talk about with your worst enemy? The weather? XP

[momo the momi]

Fritzi Fritzi Fritzi

ritz felt a harsh wind whip at his face as her papers were practically flown at him. Though he understood her bad mood perfectly, he couldn't help but snatch the papers a little abruptly from her hand. He was careful not to seem intimidating, but at the same time he wasn't going to welcome that kind of attitude - not because she was French, or even because she was a woman, but simply because he expected respect as a human being. Holding the papers up to him, he looked down for a brief moment, glancing over the information only to find a name. His eyes rested on the bold text and his lips curved to the side: Eponine. And this is her address . . . he folded the identification papers, content with the newfound knowledge of a woman who uttertly dispised him, if even for all the wrong reasons.

She seemed more in a mood than ever, especially once he handed her back the papers. Here, this beautiful French woman, whose eyes staggered his imagination, was tearing him a new one; letting him know that he was basically a piece of s**t. And it was probably true. He didn't know the language, and though he didn't know anyone in his company who bothered to learn it either, Eponine had a point. Eponine . . . what did that name even mean? Was he pronouncing it right? As he fallowed her steady, albeit angry, walk up the steps, the young soldier couldn't help but speak up again. Though everything he was taught and had learned over the years screamed at him to just let her go, something else, deep down within him yelled right back at him, not to. So though she was standing there, asking him to let her go inside, he instead gripped his hat a little tighter and quietly let his voice carry through the night, right up to her, "Of course, I - I didn't mean to keep you . . . but before you go, can I ask you to teach me some French lessons a few times a week?"

He knew by her demeanor that she'd never do so willingly but with the threat of outing her on her bogus papers, she really wouldn't have much of a choice. Though he felt bad about lowering himself to such standards, he'd do it, to ensure getting to talk to her again. So stepping a little closer, he tried to make it sound as if it wasn't as bad as it sounded, though how could it not? He'd just have to get it over with, and hope her fear of whatever might happen if she tried to decline, would outweigh her patriotism for her country. At best, he'd get to learn something from her and be around her, and at worst, she'd slap him and he'd have to report her. Oh well, he was just going to have to go with his gut instinct, and pray it ended in his favor, "I mean, I'd hate to have to report your fake papers to my superior . . . "

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ooc; Thanks for understanding, and I'm heading off to Hero to write another post! ^^ (though I got to drop off my other brother and pack their back packs for school tomorrow - but yeah, right after that). Oh, if Eponine says yes, should we do a timeskip right after your next post? ^^

And yeah, what do you talk about? The weather? o.0

[OuEstLaCraie]

lover • figher • dreamer • schemer • mother

It took her a long, silent moment to think up a proper response, seeing as her wit was needed elsewhere. God damn the Professor! He'd more or less assured her the papers were good as genuine - or, at least, she'd assumed he'd get her good contraband. And now the German was threatening to report her for the indiscretion, threatening to tell unless she gave him...speech lessons? Of all the absurdities in the world! She restrained the urge to laugh - how could she not? The situation was just getting out of hand, becoming more surreal with every passing moment - and managed to wrestle her thoughts away from the torrent of expletives she was going to have to fling at the Professor once she escaped and made it upstairs.

She didn't want to do it. Honestly, she almost felt physically ill at the thought of spending quality time with the scum of a soldier - it was an affront to herself, to her son, to her beloved Auguste, to her older brother, Jean, who was risking his life on the warfront. She wasn't sure she'd be able to even make it through one more conversation with this - this - this man, let alone a full hour or so to teach him her language, her words. She held only Enjolras closer to her heart. She could fight him on the matter, of course; insist the papers were real, then say she'd gotten them from a nameless crook in a back alley when they backed her into a corner. No matter how much rage welled up inside her, directed at the Professor, she knew she would - could - never give them his name. But...she was so tired. She felt powerless against this new establishment in her own country. She couldn't fight a fixed court run by the puppet French government. And she couldn't risk what a guilty verdict would mean.

It would hurt her pride and her sense of dignity, but at least he wasn't asking for money (which she didn't have) or love (which she couldn't give - not to the likes of him, anyway). She had no choice, which they probably both knew. She took a half step backwards, away from him, reaching behind her with both hands to clutch the double doors' handles for suppoer. In her shaky English, she managed to retort, "I have a child to look after. Can I go inside if I say yes? If I...agree to your...terms?" She pressed herself against the doors, hoping to make a clean escape when he gave the word. "You know where I live now," she added snidely. "Come to find me again, if you're really so...so keen for these lessons, yes?"

вìєи des choses à тσυs,

O O C : I think a time skip is in order...I can't wait until they actually start to like each other♥

And the French lessons? A stroke of genius, really! I had no idea how we were going to get them together again, haha.

[momo the momi]

Fritzi Fritzi Fritzi

ritz looked at her with awe. She had a child? His eyes couldn't help but wander over her form; a graceful, elegant woman such as herself had already given birth? Nothing wrong with that of course, but it seemed to him that women who had done so, always tended to cling onto to a few kilo's. Never quite regaining their original figure back. As his thoughts blurred, so did his vision - trying to comprehend just how skinny this woman must have been before she had had a child. Realizing he was probaly making her uncomfortable, well in reality, he knew he was making her terrified! Fritz tipped his hat to her, after placing it back on his head, "Thank you very much Madame, I apoligize for keeping a mother from her child."

He could tell from her stance that she was ready to bolt, and he knew he probably needed to return to his unit at the apartment complex. But he still lingered in front of her for a minute longer, realising a minutae detail he had completly forgotten about up until that point - her husband. Fritz wasn't married yet (not for a lack of trying, since he was engaged), but he was certain that if he saw some stranger in front of his house, harassing her, he'd run out to defend her. Hm, maybe he wasn't home yet? But better play it safe either way. Figuring that he needed to leave before he got a beat down, Fritz turned to do just that when temptation forced him to look back one more time. She was already halfway through the gate, and he raised his voice to make sure she could hear him, "I will bring an escort in two days to assure your husband that I do not have any inappropiate intentions. Good night Madame!"

With that, he practically ran back down the alley and returned to a world he had managed to forget all about for the first time in months. A world that was all about occupations, and forced surrenders, and angry men, women, and children, resenting him - the simple messenger in all this. If they could only understand that he was nothing more than a mere puppet. That there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that he could do to assure any of them. He couldn't tell them he'd help them, protect them, nothing. He could do nothing. Fritz was just a marionette, controlled by his homeland, pretending to be there for them. Nothing changed those facts. And as the sudden wave of incompetance hit him smack dack in the chest, he gripped the nearest railing to hold himself up. On the outside, he looked as if he was simply short winded, not letting on just how distraught he felt over the whole situation. Not that any French bystander would have helped him either way - after all, one more German soldier dead was probably a relief to them. Yes, he could drop dead right then and there, and they'd probably let him. For a second, it was as if the young soldier could feel everyone's hate yelling at him to give up, to lie in the snow, and just . . . die. And it was this agonizing gut feeling ripping apart his very soul, that almost made Fritz turn around to bang down Eponine's door and force her to talk to him. Take him back to a place where he forgot about it all.

But having just promised to be appropiate, Fritz pushed forward, forcing his legs one hardened step at a time, to take him back to his apartment. The snow was getting colder, and it almost seemed to scratch at his face as every snowflake hit his cheeks, one solid, rock hard piece at a time. It was if the very French weather was trying to beat him down, but he carried on. He couldn't understand it, but he trudged through it. His legs felt heavy, his breath took more and more time to come to him, and his head was spinning . . . did he eat something? Did he drink bad coffee? It was no secret that his fellow Germans took most of the coffee from the French, and then sold it back to them at outrageous prices. Maybe the cup he had earlier, that he had downed so fast, wasn't good anymore?

Yet, just as his thoughts really began to wander, Fritz turned onto his own pathetic street. The street were his unit lived, in a decent apartment that they had kicked five families out from. They were Jewish, so the commanding officer insisted it was okay, but Fritz had a hard time sleeping in a bed, of a more than likely dead man, he helped condemn to death. But still, the soldier trudged on. He bypassed the newest recruit, barely lifting his papers to him so the man could mark him down. Fritz knew, the the recruit knew, who he was, so really, flashing his credentials at the young man seemed pointless, but it was routine, so he did it anyway. However, just as he was passing the guard, Fritz was stopped by a cold hand on his shoulder and the young soldier looked down on the intrusion with furor, "What!?"

The guard's eyes revealed fear, and Fritz tried to relax his features, and take a deep breath so he could apoligize for his outburst - but just as he was about to, the young man explained his intrusive grip, "But, sir, a young lady is upstairs to see you . . . " Fritz' eyes widened. He bolted to the front door, bypassed any comrades who might have stopped to say hello to him, and took the stairs, two steps at a time. Could it be? Could his dear, sweet Maria be here? Racing to his room on the third floor, he slammed his door open, ecstatic at the prospect of seeing his very reason for living, smiling back at him. But as his eyes adjusted to the dimmed light of a few candles burning on the mantle in the corner, Fritz realised it wasn't Maria . . . it was Anna - his sister.

More confused than ever, but still happy to see her, Fritz didn't even bother closing the door behind him as he walked up to his dear big sister and enveloped her in his arms, "Anna! I am so glad you are here - " Yet, she felt tense against him . . . something was wrong. And as he tried to read her face to figure it out, he spotted red eyes staring back at him. She had been crying. Not understanding any of it, Fritz tried to rub her shoulders before questioning her distraught attitude, "Schwester, what is wrong?" Anna gripped him tightly, as if she needed to hold onto him before she could speak up. Glancing to the side first, she took in a deep breath before looking back at him again. Tears already rolling down her cheeks, she stifled a choked sob in the back of her throat, but the words still managed to come out loud and clear, "Maria is dead."

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ooc; Thanks - the lesson idea just came to me, but I'm glad we found a way for these tw to get together again. I didn't really see love springing up from Fritz taking her to the police station XP Oh and sorry I godmodded you opening the gate - I can edit that if it's a problem . . . I figured you'd like to describe the emotional wretching Fritzi's last comment gave Eponine before I do a timeskip - but I can go ahead and do the timeskip if you'd like? Just let me know either way <<; And gees, this is a long post . . .

[OuEstLaCraie]

O O C : So, no joke, I had about a seven paragraph reply typed up, hit submit, and THEN my laptop decided to tell me it could no longer connect to the internet, and I lost the whole thing. GAH, this isn't my night...

So, yeah, you can go ahead and do the timeskip if you'd like, or I'll be glad to reply on the morning of their first French lesson.

[momo the momi]

ooc; I'll do a timeskip and show up at Eponine's as soon as I get my Charlotte post up and running ^^ Sometime tonight, I think ^^ (And gees, I am sorry about loosing your post! That's happened to me like three times, and every single time I'm ready to throw my laptop at a wall o.0; )

EDIT Alrighty, changed the timeline on the front page, and am writing up my post now! ^^

[momo the momi]

Fritzi Fritzi Fritzi

ritz closed the car door behind his sister Anna. Well really, he slammed the car door shut, behind his sister Anna. Either way, his emotions were apparant on his face, and the cold air escaping his lips, had nothing on the hot air inside of him. Anger was brewing deep within his chest, though Anna swore it was just another "natural" step of the grieving process. As if anything "natural" actually occured after loosing a loved one. But securing Anna's seat behind his passenger one, Fritz stepped to the front, and hastily flung open his own door. The cold, harsh, air had reddened his face, and in order to prevent either him or his sister from catching a cold, the young captain had ordered a car to take them to Eponine's. It really was the first time since he'd been told of Maria's death, that the young soldier was willing to get out of bed. Most of the past two days had been passed crying himself to sleep, with his sister preventing anybody from coming into his room - but the German's were hard, and after only two days expected him to get a grip on his emotions and begin moving on. So Anna stepped up to the plate, and after explaining the fact that it would be good for her brother to learn better French, his superior officer agreed to let his lesson be the first "returning assignment" for the young man to perform today (though it was already evening, and surely couldn't be considered a "day assignment" ).

Once inside the car, Fritz rubbed his hands together and hoped the mitts would keep them warm enough in the metal bucket that really was just as cold as the outside world was. But at least it kept the downpour of thick snow from freezing up their lungs, and that in itself paid off to have a car. Really, Germany at this time of year was just as cold as France ever could be. But with the emotional pounding Fritz' heart had taken lately, this winter seemed to be particularily daunting on his physical stature.

Knotting his shawl a little tighter around his neck, Fritz turned in the seat, to get a better look at his sister behind him. The driver was some random yuppie, eager to brownnose even a low ranking officer, so he was thus even more ready to sit there quietly and just continue to mind his own business and not get himself in any trouble. But really, at this point, even a simple fly could have earned Fritz' anger. He was trying to keep it at bay, trying to pretend that it really was okay. That loosing a finacee, was better than loosing a wife, and that having his sister here for a little while longer would make up for it . . . he was desperately lying to himself, in order to keep up appearances, and it was beginning to show around the edges. Anytime he looked at his sister, she would notice the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and the withdrawn stance his face produced. Oh yes, eventually he'd crack for sure, but not tonight - or at least that's what he told himself.

It didn't take long for the automobile to pull into the alley that eventually led to Eponine's home. And though it might seem inappropiate, this was a welcome change of pace for him. It wasn't because of Eponine herself - per se - but the chance of being out of the unit's building, away from all the other mindless soldiers, was a welcome relief at this point. And having Anna with him only sweetened the pot. But still, a hard knot developed in his chest again, and Fritz knew exactly why.

Before, the idea of seing Eponine again seemed a little weird. Yet, when Maria was still alive, it was just a stupid small, minutae attraction to her eyes that even caught his attention. Really, Fritz had every attention of simply laughing about it later on in life: about the young French woman who had his Father's eyes. But now that Maria was dead? Now, it seemed a little unsettling to think about seeing a woman so soon after his fiancee died. But this wasn't just any woman - this was a French woman. The enemy . . . there could never be anything between them, and a newfound respect for the dead ensured that fact.

Frowning over at the doorway, Fritz sighed before stepping out of the car. He was reaching for the back door of the car, to let Anna out, but found himself looking back at the French woman's house again. Since the German's took most of everything from them, keeping a few extra candles at various stockhouses around Paris, explained the dapper, dark look of Eponine's residence. In fact, only a few window sills in the entire house seemed to be lit by dim candles.

It wasn't until Anna stepped in front of him, that Fritz even realised he'd been boring a hole into the front door with his eyes. Quickly realising his error, he looked down at his sister, and tried to smile - a pathetic attempt at happiness that even Eponine would see right through in a split second, "Maybe I shouldn't do this today . . . " Figuring that the French woman would open the door at any second, Fritz tried to straighten himself out a little bit, and fake it enough to be invited in when the moment came.

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ooc; lol, at least this post isn't as long as the other one >,< But I think I might go back and edit in the morning, since I am so distracted by my hubby's movies, and I think it took me like two hours to write this post <<; Yeah, so I probably messed this post up or something XP

[OuEstLaCraie]

lover • figher • dreamer • schemer • mother

Eponine couldn't help her natural reaction to recoil from the soldier as he moved closer, even if her heart warmed a little to the enemy's show of affection for his wife. She resisted the urge to shove past both of them roughly and storm towards the car, and settled for a nonchalant stance in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and her mouth in the same, thin line of indifferent, careless defiance. "And where is the, eh...the lesson to take place, monsieur?" She took a small step forward, enough to shut the apartment door behind her, and then skittered around the couple on her doorstep and waltzed down towards the car. She paused beside the back driver's side door. "I assume I'm allowed to ride in the car, yes? You won't make me walk like some stray dog?" she called over her shoulder, a flase, dazzling smile on her face.

She still didn't know his name. Or, if he'd introduced himself, she'd either blocked it from her memory or simply forgotten it. Slowly, Eponine turned back and asked snidely, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your - " Aryan whore? " - little wife? Or, perhaps we should start slower. You had the most...unfair advantage of reading my name off my papers." She narrowed her eyes at the memory. Those damn forged papers were what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. "And you neglected to introduce yourself." She stopped, fully intending to cut off her words there, but she almost couldn't hold the insults in anymore. Only five minutes in the German's prescence, and the hatred was already swelling up within her again. "Though I suppose I should not have expected anything better from an invader. A monster like you does not take the time to tell you his name before he murders you in your sleep."

вìєи des choses à тσυs,

O O C : Blahh sorry it's short - I'm a bit distracted by Titanic :]

[momo the momi]

Oh my God, I am so close to actually finishing my first post in like two weeks! >,< But I couldn't get started until a little while ago, and now I am all pooped :/ I think that virus I gave my hubby, is coming back my way again crying I have made my profile layout for DP, so I think since I am getting up early, I really should be able to write the last bit, edit it right, and get it posted (finally!)

I really am sorry it's taking this long, you are a saint for putting up with it for this long <<;

[OuEstLaCraie]

I know, I know, I am a saint . . . I'm kidding, promise! Anyway, I can't - won't! - give up in you now :]

Get to it when you can. God knows I've waited awhile for Dramatis Personae to get started; I can wait a little longer. And don't get sick again! Because I said you're not allowed to. So there.

[momo the momi]

Fritzi Fritzi Fritzi

ritz felt the harsh wind slap his face, with just about as much force as Eponine's greeting. He knew she couldn’t have known, he knew it wasn't her fault. But of all the greetings she could have given, a remark mentioning his "wife", was something he wasn't prepared for. And though his grief almost got the better of him; and he almost looked back at her with resentment - when his eyes finally did manage to meet hers - he found himself staring again. Those damn eyes. Those eyes were a carbon copy of his father's, and right now, it was like his father was scolding him or something. Chills, both from up and coming hyperthermia, and from her eyes, crawled up his spine, and a reflex shiver ran through his body. Now more than ever, he needed Anna. Gripping her hand, he felt her delicate fingers - even through the thick wool gloves - entwining with his, and glancing back at her, asked her with his gaze to go along with him. Surely, she had no hint of what he was about to say, but being an older sister, she nodded her head reasureingly, and stood steadfast. Finally looking back at Eponine, a mere seconds having passed since her greeting, Fritz spoke up, though his voice seemed a little hoarse from crying, "Yes, she is."

He didn't mean to lie, to pretend as if Anna was really his wife. But then again, she mentioned chaperone, too. Later on, if they ever became more familiar, he could admit his fib and claim he was just saying "yes" to the chaperone part - familiar. That wasn't going to happen. This man was still grieving, mourning the loss of a woman he left behind, and trying to deal with how she died.

It was a wonder that Anna managed to escape suspicion, especially since she harbored Maria in a local bakery shop apartment. She had managed to convince the neighbor baker that she simply needed a place to stay, which she did - but in all reality, Maria was siding with the Opposition Movement. And though Anna knew of it, the two woman never discussed it. Anna didn't support, but she wasn't entirely against it either. She warned Maria to be careful, to only help a Jew escape German opression once a month or so. But the more she got away with, the more brazen Maria became.

It was the baker who turned her in, after he heard a horde of footsteps upstairs. The Gestapo came and arrested five Jews, and shoved the terrified family into the black truck that headed to those aweful camps everyone whispered about, but still managed to turn a blind eye to. Maria was taken in the Gestapo's car, and supposedly shot right then and there, since it was Anna who discovered her body lying on the sidewalk the next morning.

Fritz couldn't believe it. He had never expected meek little Maria to be such a force of nature. She had never mentioned any of it in her letters to him, though her last one had come months and months ago. In fact, Maria had been dead all those months, but no one bothered to tell him. Anna herself had to lay low, and not arouse suspicion, because she knew the government was reading every letter she sent to her dear brother. For a while, she needed to pretend that Maria's death didn't bother her at all (as if her passing had no effect on her), and when writing Fritz, had to downright lie about what had, and was, happening. For if they caught even an ounce of sympathy for her almost sister-in-law, then the Gestapo would have come down on her like some common traitor.

But wasn't Maria some common traitor?

Sure, he didn't like what his country was doing to the Jews, and other minority groups - but to go out and place yourself in such harm's way? After all, no matter what your position on these things, they lived in a place where you got shot for even murmuring about opposition. In fact, case in point, Maria was dead because of her actions (her murmurings), Anna had to watch herself carefully because of it, and now - Fritz was left with a bitter taste in his mouth. Every action causes a ripple effect . . .

And thus; tired, depressed, and utterly enwrapped in mourning, Fritz took his first step towards Eponine - and gripped Anna's hand tighter.

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ooc; oh my gosh, it's a miracle! A post, a wonderful, beautiful post for the first time in FOREVER! MUHAHAHAHAHA - I'm crazy with happiness! After some errands today, and plenty of painpills, I might actually get to DP, too ^^ And yes, you ARE a saint ^^

[OuEstLaCraie]

lover • figher • dreamer • schemer • mother

Eponine couldn't help her natural reaction to recoil from the soldier as he moved closer, even if her heart warmed a little to the enemy's show of affection for his wife. She resisted the urge to shove past both of them roughly and storm towards the car, and settled for a nonchalant stance in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and her mouth in the same, thin line of indifferent, careless defiance. "And where is the, eh...the lesson to take place, monsieur?" She took a small step forward, enough to shut the apartment door behind her, and then skittered around the couple on her doorstep and waltzed down towards the car. She paused beside the back driver's side door. "I assume I'm allowed to ride in the car, yes? You won't make me walk like some stray dog?" she called over her shoulder, a flase, dazzling smile on her face.

She still didn't know his name. Or, if he'd introduced himself, she'd either blocked it from her memory or simply forgotten it. Slowly, Eponine turned back and asked snidely, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your - " Aryan whore? " - little wife? Or, perhaps we should start slower. You had the most...unfair advantage of reading my name off my papers." She narrowed her eyes at the memory. Those damn forged papers were what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. "And you neglected to introduce yourself." She stopped, fully intending to cut off her words there, but she almost couldn't hold the insults in anymore. Only five minutes in the German's prescence, and the hatred was already swelling up within her again. "Though I suppose I should not have expected anything better from an invader. A monster like you does not take the time to tell you his name before he murders you in your sleep."

вìєи des choses à тσυs,

O O C : Blahh sorry it's short - I'm a bit distracted by Titanic :]

AND I'm an idiot to boot, haha - I just edited my last rp post instead of quoting it for the coding XP Ignore that...

[momo the momi]

Fritzi Fritzi Fritzi

ritz didn't even think about the possibility that his grip was hurting his sister. In fact, he was so blown away by Eponine's raging eyes, and grinding words, that the young soldier barely blinked back at either woman. Though the German wasn't prone to arguing, he was at a tipping point, boiling over from seething rage building up inside of him. Dammit all to Hell . . . because as far as he was concerned, giving into her, and storming off in a wild German banter would probably just be giving her exactly what she wanted. So instead, the man shifted focus, released his grip on his sister, and nodded to the driver still sitting in the car. He didn't know where the sudden inner strength came from. Maybe it was the loss of Maria, maybe it was Anna standing behind him, or maybe he was just too damn tired and cold to care. But for whatever reason, Fritz grew bold.

Having watched her glide by him, ramble on about everything wrong he had done so far (accurate or not), Fritz replied to each part, bit by bit. Because though he knew how much Eponine hated his kind, Fritz wasn't the entire German Army! She couldn't blame him for the invasion of her country; he was just a soldier, " . . . I am Captain Fritz Gordon Hoffmann of the Fourth Infantry Division." There, he told her his name, and though he couldn't quite figure out why he hadn't said it before, he decided it didn't matter anyway. Because though just minutes before he would have just left it at his name - with the tone of voice she had used with him, Fritz continued on, with his own tone - "And you will be careful in remembering who you are addressing."

His silvertongue had spoken the words as if they had just happened to roll off. But in reality, it was quite difficult to speak so brazingly to her. He was raised by his Mutti, and his Anna, and really, only had the greatest respect for women. Yet here he was anyways, whipping words around as if he was some kind of macho man. And sure, some might think his words weren't that harsh, certainly not as harsh as hers, but Fritz preferred speaking through his actions more anyways. Reaching for his sister, the young soldier brought her between them, then shuffled her towards the car, "Actually, Anna was just seeing me off. She will come back for me in an hour - " Within minutes of giving the heads up to the driver, and ensuring with a look that everything was fine with his sister, Fritz tapped the car roof twice, and watched it speed down the alley and dissapear into the busy street.

Turning his head back to Eponine, Fritz took a brazen step closer, and though not accustomed to intimidation, found that in the moment, it came quite easily when verbally attacked. Trying to be coy, he smirked, "You might find me a monster, and you have the right to your opinion . . . " Glancing back at her house, the German shrugged his shoulders and began walking past the gate, only calling back to her, as if he was granting her a favor by telling her what was happening, "And since I only know how to invade, I guess I'll continue with your house."

Looking back, only for a brief moment, Fritz again continued, now opening the entrance to her home and walking right in. A faint voice inside called out to her, arrogant as ever, and completly oblivious as to who might be inside (and who he might be scaring half to death, " - Care to join me?"

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ooc; oh.dear.lordi. this has been a looong week, and I didn't realise until just now that I haven't been on in a couple of days! I thought I just didn't come on for like a day or two - not this! Blah. As soon as I catch up on DP I'll get to writing, seems like everyone is stuck waiting on me :/ But on a brighter note, loved your last post here - it was so, bitter ^^; Gave me lots of inspiration ^^