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duhdumb89 · 6 months

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A Forbidden Happiness | Chapter 19

Everyone knew that the food at The Empress Dowager's banquet would be more than luxurious. The Empress wanted the meal to be something people talked about for years. To even lay eyes on it was something most people would die to do.

Not wanting Xiang gui ren to miss out, The Emperor delivered each dish to her. The servants needed to push three tables together to lay out the entire banquet. Molan and Bolin 'ooh-ed' and 'ahh-ed' over The Emperor's care for their mistress. Jiayi cursed him. The Emperor had been by Xiang gui ren's side since she was bedbound and knew she couldn't open her mouth very much or chew tough foods. He was right there when Hwang taiyi and Lou taiyi described the strict rejuvenating diet Xiang gui ren would have to follow if she wanted to heal with no deep scars.

At best, Xiang gui ren could have fingernails' worth of each dish. Wasn't it cruel to send her all the food she could't have?

"Everything looks so exciting," said Xiang gui ren, "It's a shame I can't eat it. Ah, I hope His Majesty doesn't behave like this every day,"

"Mistress, we won't eat if you can't. We'll send it back!" Said Ping'er.

Xiang gui ren waived away the idea, "No, I'll just seem ungrateful. Eat, eat! It'll give you all something to do other than wait for me to drop dead,"

"Mistress!" Jiayi gasped at the implication.

"It was a joke!" Said Xiang gui ren.

Jiayi huffed and walked around the tables, looking for something soft and light for Xiang gui ren. If she cut the pieces fine enough, her mistress could have a treat.

"What's that over there on the 2nd table near the hot pot?" Asked Xiang gui ren.

"Shark fin soup, mistress," replied Molan.

"Didn't First Princess talk about how much she liked that? It's awful that she has to miss it. Poor thing," said Xiang gui ren.

The mention of First Princess made Jiayi's stomach turn.

Molan nodded, "Mmm, she liked the pork trotters and steamed cakes here, too. Mistress, why don't we send some over to her? I've heard she's been so sad, locked in her rooms,"

"I'll take it," said Jiayi. It was a small gesture, but it would make Jiayi feel better if First Princess felt better.

"Good. Oh! Since you'll be over there anyways, take that green brocade and white fox fur and drop it off in Sixth Princes' rooms. The Internal Affairs department sent over a few things to make my winter clothes, but green isn't really my color, and I think brown and red furs are more dashing," said Xiang gui ren.

Molan placed the dishes in a lunchbox and neatly folded the green brocade and furs.

"Don't worry, jiejie; I'll save the pork belly for you,"

The Empress Dowager's banquet was large enough that many servants, no matter what department they worked in, were pulled in to help. Seeing the streets empty of the usual servants sweeping, washing, and trimming was strange. A cooler-than-usual breeze made Jiayi shiver. She looked down at the brocade and fur, wondering if an odd boy like the Sixth Prince would appreciate it.

The Sixth Prince looked nothing like The Emperor. At this point, Jiayi had painted all of the princes and princesses and could match the features of His Majesty in all of them. With Sixth Prince? There was none. When Xiang gui ren entered Sixth Prince's rooms, his nursemaids asked if they could relieve themselves and tidy up when Xiang gui ren was around to watch Sixth Prince. They didn't bother asking their master but instead shuffled out.

She placed her paintbox on the table and frowned at the dust and food stains that littered the tablecloth. Jiayi would have to clean it before putting down the parchment.

"The Empress Dowager is going to love this portrait of you," said Xiang gui ren, "Did you pick out your clothes?"

Sixth Prince didn't look up from the scroll he was reading, "What does it matter? Can't your maid paint me in anything?"

"Even so. Do you have a favorite color?" She asked.

"Green,"

Xiang gui ren nodded.

"Sixth Prince," said Jiayi, "Where would you like to be painted?"

"You'll have to paint me here. I'm not leaving my room," said Sixth Prince.

Jiayi bowed her head, "I apologize. I mean, what would you like to be doing in your portrait? First Princess was embroidering, and Third Prince was on horseback. What would you like?"

"Does it matter?" Asked Sixth Prince, "Can we just get this over with?"

Jiayi looked around at Sixth Prince's desk. Piles of scrolls and books littered the surface, with more of the same spilling out of the bookshelf behind him.

"Sixth Prince looks like a dashing scholar at work at his desk. Would you like to be painted like that?"

"Fine,"

Sixth Prince sighed and griped when Jiayi gently posed him and ordered Molan and Bolin to tidy up around. It couldn't have been more than an hour before Sixth Prince claimed to be tired and all but chased them away.

"Mistress," said Molan, once they were well away from the A Ge Sou, "That was weird, wasn't it?"

"What was?"

"Sixth Prince. His nannies were gone the entire time, and his room? Dusty all over? I tried to find a green yifu for jiejie to paint, and all his clothes were old and thin. That's not how an Imperial heir should live,"

It had taken several sessions to finish Sixth Prince's portrait. In that time, the child rarely had visitors. When Jiayi painted Third Prince's portrait, Fourth Prince and Eighth Prince weren't far from his side. First Princess and Second Princess dropped by as well. But Sixth Prince was alone. On one occasion, Tong pin dropped by and spent time fussing about Sixth Prince's dirty fingers and sullen face, but she mostly chatted with Xiang gui ren before leaving. Sixth Prince kicked them out soon after.

A young lady and a maid strolled passed her, "Gêgê, let's go back. The fireworks will start soon,"

Jiayi felt a sharp burning burst of jealousy at the gêgê's effortless beauty. But like the sting of a mosquito, it was there for only a moment.

Jiayi was dragged out of her thoughts when someone hissed her name.

"Psst! Wei guniang! Over here!"

It took her a few turns before realizing that someone was waving at her from behind a corner.

"Sang'er?" she asked.

"Lower your voice," he said, "Wei guniang, may I ask a favor of you?"

Jiayi looked down at the lunchbox in one hand and the fabric in the other, "I'm a little busy. I can come back later,"

Sang'er shook his head, "It can't wait! Please, Wei guniang, it won't take long,"

"Sang'er–"

The eunuch dropped to his knees, pleading in earnest.

"Don't do that!" Jiayi said, walking over to him, "Fine. If it's quick, I'll help you,"

"Thank you, thank you!" said Sang'er, "Come with me, quickly!"

Sang'er brought her around the corner, where Prince Han, in Jiayi's opinion, appeared out of thin air. She yelped at the sight of him. Sang'er and Prince Han frantically shushed her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "My lord, what's going on?"

Prince Han cleared his throat, "I need a small favor,"

Jiayi was familiar with this kind of conversation. Every servant was. It was always a 'small favor.' Just drop this off. Just switch these plates. Just deliver this message. Those small things usually landed them in a coffin.

The thoughts must have shown on her face because Prince Han quickly reassured her.

"It's nothing so grave," he said, "I need you to talk to someone for me,"

"Did you pass by a gêgê on your way here?" Sang'er asked, "Very pretty and walking with her maid?"

"I did," she replied.

"My lord would like you to ask her to return to the banquet. If she asks after him, tell her he's drunk and already retired for the night,"

"At 5 in the evening?" asked Jiayi.

"You can say anything within reason," said Prince Han, "Just stop her from walking up and down the corridors so I can escape,"

Jaiyi's arms were beginning to get sore.

"My lord, if this gêgê is bothering you, I'm sure Her Highness could help,"

Prince Han's face went through a series of convulsions before he collected himself. He nudged Sang'er.

"Oh! Here," Sang'er held out a tael of silver to her.

Seeing that her hands were occupied, Sang'er relieved her of her burdens before pressing the money into her hands.

"On your way now to deal with Yehe-Nara gêgê. I'll keep these safe for you,"

Jiayi had no choice. She pocketed the silver and stepped back onto the road. The gêgê that Prince Han was so weary of made an about-face and walked straight toward her.

"My lady," Jiayi called, "Do you need some help?"

"Oh," said Yehe-Nara gêgê, "Yes. Have you seen Prince Han? I have something I want to give him,"

"I passed by Prince Han on my way back. He was red-faced and leaning on his eunuch. Perhaps my lady should wait to give Prince Han this gift. He may displace it,"

Yehe-Nara gêgê deflated and let out a small sigh, "You're right. I suppose I'd be bothering him,"

"Don't worry, gêgê," said her maid, "The Empress invites you here so often, you'll see Prince Han again,"

It made Jiayi's heart ache to see the young woman so sad. How much could it hurt that she wanted to spend some time with Prince Han?

Yehe-Nara gêgê nodded, "Fine then, let's go back to the banquet,"

"Wait," said Jiayi, "May I ask your name?"

"My lady is Xiurong of the Yehe-Nara clan," said the maid.

"Being the daughter of such a powerful clan, your father must be invited to the Mulan Autumn Hunt*," said Jaiyi.

"Master is a decorated general of His Majesty's army," said the maid, "He's invited every year,"

"Do you go with him?" Asked Jiayi.

"Oh no, I'm not very fond of horse racing and such," replied Yehe-Nara gêgê.

Jiayi leaned in close and dropped her voice to a whisper, "Prince Han is going. I've heard that men and women don't live as separately in Mongolia as in the capital. If you went with your father, you could spend even more time with him,"

Yehe-Nara gêgê smiled at her maid in excitement before turning back to Jiayi, "You're a very smart maid,"

"Thank you, my lady,"

Jiayi waited until Yehe-Nara gêgê was out of sight before returning to Prince Han and Sang'er.

"She's gone,"

Prince Han and Sang'er exchanged a look of relief.

"Wei guniang, you don't know how much you've helped us," said Sang'er.

Jiayi went on her way as quickly as possible. First Princess' food could only stay warm for so long.

_____

The fireworks died, and the guests were traveling back home. Shen huang gui fei could finally drop the false smile that covered her face. How could her smile be anything but false? The Emperor was shunning her and Huabao, and The Empress Dowager was furious with her for marrying her cousins into Duke Zian's household. It was unfair. How long would The Empress Dowager be by her side? Why was it such a crime for Shen huang gui fei to think of her future? Until she had another son, it was all she could do! But still, depriving The Empress Dowager of an opportunity to douse the Imperial Family with more Mongolian blood was a heavy crime.

"Let The Empress and De gui fei eat you alive, you ungrateful wretch!"

So De gui fei finally made a move. Shen huang gui fei would admit that as the years went on, De gui fei became less and less of a threat. Their daughters may have been born right after the other, but His Majesty stopped frequenting De gui fei's bed years ago. With no son and no favor, De gui fei faded into the background like an old, ugly painting.

The Empress must have promised a great something for De gui fei to step off her moral high horse and attack Huabao. And with Xiang gui ren moving to Chengqiangong, the picture became clearer and clearer.

If De gui fei wanted to make the mistake of going against Shen huang gui fei, it was her funeral. It was too early to take action so soon after Jiang pin's foolishness so she would wait until their return from the hunt. Then, she would show De gui fei the error of her ways.

In the dead of night, Jingse informed her of an interesting tidbit regarding Xiang gui ren's little maid and Prince Han.

How fun.

–––––––– *The imperial hunt of the Qing dynasty was an annual rite of the of during the (1636–1912). It was first organized in 1681 by the at the imperial hunting grounds at Mulan (modern-day Weichang Manchu and Mongol Autonomous County), near what would become the of the Qing emperors at Starting in 1683 the event was held annually at Mulan during the autumn, lasting up to a month. The Qing dynasty hunt was a synthesis of earlier Chinese and hunting traditions, particularly those of the and . The emperor himself participated in the hunt, along with thousands of soldiers, imperial family members, and government officials.

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ravnloft · 7 months

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amma backstory reveal heehee

never knew her father. was abandoned by her mother at the earliest opportunity. taken in by a lolthite cult in the underdark and given the name theodosia. eventually sold to viconia devir along with a dozen or so other children.

viconia "raises" her and the others, trains them to be sneaky, ruthless, all the good traits you want in a killing machine. once of age, they are all "gifted" arcane tattoos that allow them to summon shadow blades and bolstering arcane prowess as well as giving viconia a direct scrying/message line to them wherever they are.

soon they are given their purpose: to be sent off to high elven cities as peace offerings. some are positioned as entertainers, some are advisors, others are arranged marriages. theodosia is given to a counsellor in myth drannor named bonnevance. initially, she is simply one of several mistresses, but after saving him from another assassin, bonnevance becomes quite taken with her and they start a genuine courtship.

within six months they are married. it's a huge scandal. people call her the grey lady behind her back. but, she is truly happy for the first time in her life. she loves her husband and is loved in return. she is eager to learn the art of politics and help negotiate peace between high elves and drow. also, bonnevance happens to have no shortage of enemies, and her favorite pastime is picking them off slowly one by one. he'll make a very fine archduke once they are all dead.

then one night viconia's whispers return:

kill him, she orders. plunge the city into chaos.

theodosia will do no such thing. she confesses her former allegiance to bonnevance, and instead of being horrified, he sees an opportunity: she turns her blades on viconia, he removes the last few folks standing in his way, and they spin the whole thing as their own heroic rescue of the city after a failed coup by lolthites.

so she goes. she digs up viconia's hidey hole, gathers her "family" for dinner, and poisons every cup. then she walks every hall and slashes every throat. she burns everything that will take to flame. with one vial, one knife, and no small amount of smokepowder, viconia's cruel machinations are no more!

she returns to bonnevance, triumphant, ecstatic, hopeful. they'll commission a statue first, she thinks; something big and ostentatious and covered in gold filigree. then a new grand portrait for the foyer. hm, will they keep that foyer? perhaps they'll move into a new palace. someplace high up in the hills, with a huge grand balcony to watch the sunrise every day.

instead, from the gate, she watches every counsellor of myth drannor leave her home. upright. walking. alive. un-poisoned. un-murdered. bonnevance is with them at the door. smiling. laughing.

what the fuck have you done? she says once they are gone.

i couldn't do it, he weeps. i couldn't kill them. they are my friends. i thought you would understand. there has to be another way.

and it is here that she learns the first real lesson of survival-- one surpassing anything she picked up on the street, anything the cruel priestesses beat into her, anything viconia lectured on. it's simple. instinctive, even.

i trusted you, she says.

viconia's cult is dead. many counsellors of myth drannor are dead. those remaining will have questions-- accusations. and theodosia will have blood on her hands. there is no lie bonnevance could weave to cover this one ugly truth.

i'm sorry, he tells her. you never should have.

it is not difficult to draw her blade and run it through his heart. he does not try to stop her. perhaps he understands what she knows now-- that they've orchestrated their own doom, sprung their own trap, and only one of them can make it out alive. there is nothing left for her to do except run, but she can't bring herself to let go of the knife in his chest. they fall to the floor, bloody, weeping, betrayed. she watches for what feels like eternity as his lovely sunlight eyes go dim.

i loved you, are the last words she says to him.

i love you still, are the last words he says to anyone.

she burns the manor down. she destroys the beautiful portrait of them in the foyer. she pawns her wedding jewels to the first knave who'll buy them.

she makes a good life thieving, for a while. she flees all across the sword coast, picks up odd jobs-- larceny, reconnaissance, security-- anything that will put gold in the bartender's pocket. she changes her name. amma theylin is nobody, comes from no house, has had no past, and if she's lucky, no future either.

it's almost a relief when a devir cavalier recognizes her and takes her back to the underdark. she's sent to prison in ched nasad-- a formidable structure of calcified webs suspended over what feels like leagues of nothingness. no escaping there, unless you'd prefer falling to your death to whatever execution was lined up for you.

amma hopes the end comes soon. in one final act of defiance, she convinces another prisoner to carve out viconia's mark, leaving her entire back a raw, skinned, open wound. the wardens stop trying to keep it clean after the fourth time she removes the dressings and tries to garrotte someone with it.

alas, those in power are always bound to fuck everything up for everybody else, and when the stonefire hit, anyone still capable of running was doing that.

amma made her way to the surface again. this time-- this time, she would be free, really, truly free. no spider's eyes in the dark, no whispers in her mind. no one to rely on but herself. she does not regret killing her beloved golden bonnevance. she regrets thinking that she wouldn't have to.

now, all she wants is to do is make enough gold that she can drink herself to death. unfortunately, even that eludes her.

#amma #mine #characters #[record scratch] [freeze frame] [amma voiceover] AND THEN I GOT FUCKING BRAINWORMED #bonus: she does not trust wizards as a rule. too many magic folks experimenting with her tattoo under viconia.#bonus: the undead skeeve her out so bad. it's the closest thing to a phobia she has. if she kills someone they should stay dead wtf #you can imagine how fast she speedran the stages of grief after realizing she's down bad for a fucking vampire. disgusting. unbelievable.#where's the receipt she's returning him to cazador

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mautdesigns · 1 year

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February 8th, is the feast day of Saint Josephine Margaret Bakhita. St Bakhita has been adopted as the patron Saint of Sudan, and survivors of human trafficking.

Bakhita was kidnaped into slavery when she was about 7 years old, and was made to walk over 600 miles barefoot. Bakhita was unable to remember her birth name, possibly due to the trauma of the abduction and abuse. Bakhita is Arabic for 'lucky' or 'fortunate'. Over the next 12 years she had many "owners" and was treated very badly by many of them. She was marked with a process of scarification by a particularly cruel mistress resulting in a total of 114 intricate patterns cut into her torso.

Bakhita escaped slavery after being left in the care of the Canossian Sisters in Venice with her "owner's" daughter, Augusto Michieli. When he returned to take his daughter and Bakhita back to Sudan Bakhita refused and the Canossian Sisters took up her cause. After a legal battle, the Italian court determined that Bakhita had never legally been a slave.

Bakhita stayed with the Canossian Sisters and became a nun, retaining the name Bakhita. She was quite popular with the common people who refer to her as Sor Moretta ("little brown sister") or Madre Moretta ("black mother").

Bakhita died at 8:10 PM on the 8th of February 1947. She was canonized on October 1st, 2000. She is the only Sudanese Catholic Saint.

There are few images of Bakhita, this is the best known.

#mautdesigns #womenempowerment #womensupportingwomen #women #slavery #slaverystillexists #endslavery #humantraffickingsurvivor #humantrafficking #watercolorsketch #playing #watercolorsketchbook #watercolorpainting #portrait #watercolorportrait #watercolor #womenempowerment #practice #practicemakesprogress

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unravellingsilencehq · 1 year

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“Oh, Merlin, tell me, does THE DEVIL get what he deserves?” He is in THE DEATH EATERS & CLOSED to finding out.

— he walks through the world as ;

name → larkin mulciber pronouns → he/him identification → cis male year of birth → september 1959 - september 1960 face claim → woo do hwan blood status → pure-blood sexual orientation → up to applicant occupation → socialite amongst high society in wizarding london future information → n/a

— he is best described as ;

The King of SHADOWS and GOLD, he is the OMINOUS DREAD held in unwelcome prying eyes looming in the never ending cold and the CHILLED SHIVER running down the back of necks on a pitch BLACK NIGHT. A TORMENTED SOUL, the bruised boy of woe is MANIPULATIVE yet harbors REGRETS. The PUPPETEER toying with unwilling victims strings; like a SPIDER drawing blood after it drives its prey to pure INSANITY.

— his story starts with ;

tw: abuse, tw: death, tw: blood

Born to Kyung Mulciber, a man as hateful as he was cunning, Kyung single handedly raised Larkin in disgrace. Bred a tormented soul, he was branded the Grim Reaper. Yeong, the light of Kyung’s life, took her last breath at Larkin’s first, casting bitterness into the family’s hearts. Without a single word of kindness, Larkin was resented by those supposed to grace him with care. Interactions were met with hostility and volatile anger; even from the likes of the house elves who once idealised their mistress. Growing in the fall of his mother’s glory, hidden in the secluded mountains of the Lake District enchanted barriers kept the Mulciber manor secluded from unwelcome guests. Isolated and with a severe lack of love, Larkin’s youth was spent whispering secrets to spiders dangling off chandeliers. With his father absent and cold, Larkin tried earnestly to grasp onto pieces of a parent. Hours spent by candle light in the family library, from archives detailed in gold and towering family portraits, he formed a fragmented image. A woman once powerful, resilient and beautiful, illuminated in piercing emeralds that matched her eyes; his late mother. Someone he thought could have loved him, if only Morgana had been kind.

With wealth and a line as Pure-Blooded as The Sacred-Twenty Eight, the family reveled in entitlement. Renowned for possessing an aptitude for the dark arts, purist rhetoric was laced in their lives from dusk till dawn. Breeding chaos, while Kyung praised ERIS MULCIBER [sister] and JAE MULCIBER [brother] in glory, Larkin was cursed into strife. Like his siblings, he was taught not what beauty magic held, but what power. Growling voices with a tone as sharp as poison scorned him, disapproving glares reflected in the shattered mirrored walls of the Mulciber ballroom turned training arena, distorted and manic as his father’s teachings turned cruel. Harnessing darkness, unregistered Gregorovitch wands concealed their illegal activities from the Ministry of Magic, enabling them to continue their legacy of turmoil all while slipping through the grasps of the law. The eldest Eris, channeled anger into the Cruciatus curse. Second born, Jae’s handsome features acted as the perfect deception for the master of death; with Avada Kavarda being his speciality. Leaving Larkin to master the complexity of the mind and the Imperius curse. Divine and divisive, the family were notorious for playing Merlin himself as they manipulated powers beyond their control. Together, the trio made a master of sin and torment.

Desperate for gratification, Larkin’s sensibility grew cruel in a plight to prove his worth. Cursing the house elves with a flick of his finger, he left them dangling on the ceiling with a twisted grin all for a glimmer of respect to flicker in his fathers eyes. The more souls he puppertered, the more praise he received. Forging himself into a sinner to gain what he could only dream of; acceptance from his father. While his siblings attended Durmstrang, Kyung claimed his talent would be better suited to that of Hogwarts. Speaking of a wizard whom he once schooled with, THE DARK LORD [leader] dreamed of a world where those inferior would finally know their place. Entrusted, Larkin vowed to find those as equally wicked. Cunning as the devil, the sorting hat barely graced his head before announcing his rightful place in Slytherin. Gaining respect for his damming schemes; Larkin was renowned as the king of chaos. JASPER AVERY [best friend], though entitled and held little promise in Larkin’s eyes of matching his wits, made a reputable ally. Second in their ranks was SEVERUS SNAPE [best friend], despite his Half-Blood status, his intellect was more akin to his own. The trio became notoriously known for their vile pranks on those they deemed unworthy to study magic.

Consumed with desire to appease his family, Larkin fell into a kingdom of darkness. Until he met them. MARY MACDONALD [former partner] was everything he wasn’t. Kind hearted with a warm disposition, if Larkin was the king of the underworld, Mary was the beautiful wix dancing above. A Muggle-Born and friend of annoyances JAMES POTTER [adversary], SIRIUS BLACK [adversary], REMUS LUPIN [adversary] and PETER PETTIGREW [adversary] , Jaspar dared him to bring the sweet creature to ruin. What had started as a ploy to break the wix’s heart, turned into a secret relationship hidden in the shadows of the clocktower. Despite himself, he fell in love with Mary. Intoxicated by their light and the only person to ever bring warmth to his cold heart, Larkin grew desperate in his attempts to keep their love a secret. Despite efforts, PERSEPHONE WILKES [friend/rival] caught a stolen glimpse between the pair. Outraged that he’d betrayed the sanctity of magic, she deemed him a blood-traitor for his adoration for a filthy mudblood. Threatening to expose them with her wand pointed to his throat, despite Mary’s obstinate belief that love conquered all; Larkin knew that even a rumor would open them to cruelty. With Persephone’s threats lingering over his head, logically he knew the only way to guarantee their safety was to make an example of them.

Plotting in an aid to set them free; Larkin encapsulated them in his arms and stole one last kiss before uttering ‘Imperio’. Instantly Mary’s love faded to a vacant expression; leaving them completely at his disposal. Encouraged by Jasper’s twisted grin, they killed Flinch’s cat, Mary’s hands covered in blood, and set off to their final destination; The Black Lake. Floating like Ophelia, Larkin was moments from sinking Mary into the water’s when LILY EVANS [adversary] found them. Concentration broken, Mary’s piercing screams of terror echoed around the grounds cutting Larkin’s heart like a knife. Expelled, he left Hogwarts donned a hero by purists. But for once, he didn’t feel pride in his actions. Finishing his final years of education at Durmstrang, Larkin dove into his studies with cruel intent. Named a lone wolf by peers, while the school harbored those residing in darkness; none held Larkin’s power. Wandless magic for unforgivable curses was rare and known by few, including the Muclibers who left many pleading for mercy with a mere curl of their hand. Stalking dark alleys in his black jacket embossed with scales, Larkin sunk his teeth into the pits of hell daring it to fight back. Gone were the flowers Mary had once laid, left only an empty chasm of a man; unhinged and dangerous with little left to lose.

While his others prided their superiority through status, Larkin’s talents made him a vital recruit into The Dark Lord’s army; becoming an esteemed member in the fight for the new world. Settling on the outer banks of London with a heart rotted black, darkness swarms like a whirlpool in his chest. Under the orders of BELLATRIX BLACK [mentor], Larkin is gathering information on those who could cause complications to The Dark Lord’s plans. Sniffing out Blood-Traitors, Larkin is playing the unsuspected in a plight to move up in the ranks. GILFRED ABBOTT [victim] was the perfect victim for his scheme. Suspecting little when questions from Larkin’s lips instead left the young Gryffindor’s; his sweet demeanor acts as the perfect mask to torment. Though as charmed as his antics are, he has his sights set on bigger fish; DOUGAL MCKINNON [rival], COINNEACH MCKINNON [rival], NATHAIR MCKINNON [rival] and MARLENE MCKINNON [rival], a family seeking to devalue pure-blood legacy by allowing a muggle-born into their ranks was the perfect target to finally bring him to glory. While the other McKinnon siblings shout for equality, Larkin has his eyes set on the brother that prefers the shadows than the light. Calculating his plans, he knows Nathair will be the undoing of the family, if only he pulls on the right set of strings.

— he is a LEVEL 7 WIZARD & readied for war ;

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la-cocotte-de-paris · 2 months

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Feeling like Pygmalion and Galatea all in one

#I'd say i knew how narcissus felt but uh...not when i know about the twin sister part lol #anyway yeah feeling VAIN today lolol #and before you ask I'm between decorating so don't ask about the walls rip #c'est moi !#portraits of the siren #portraits of a cruel mistress #i just wanted to show off the ring and my hair tbh

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dianacarrow · 2 years

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Carrow Manor, January 1956 Ft. @maddox-mckinnon , mentioning @cygnus--black

Searched. Arrested. Interrogated. Diana knew it was always possible, such was the way of things these days. The law did not care if you were innocent if your blood was tainted by the actions of those you once held dear, or those you still did. Cygnus had nothing to do with the actions of those distantly related to him, and yet, like vultures, the aurors had jumped at the slightest plausible cause to tear apart his home and arrest him. Diana’s stomach twisted in displeasure as her fingers tightened on her tea cup. Her home had been thoroughly searched before. She knew all too well what it felt like to have a place of security torn up, to see clothes, personal belongings, sentimental pieces, tossed about like they were worthless. To know that Cygnus endured that too? She hated them.

Aurors were meant to protect them, but who protected them from the aurors? She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, just behind her teeth as she waited. Cygnus’ words led her to one conclusion. Maddox was an idiot. She knew it well, but never did she think he’d be this undeniably reckless. Cruel. He’d been there with her throughout her parents trial, enduring her moods, her fears, and yet he’d still seen fit to do this? She should have sent for Podric too, but she couldn’t take any chances that he’d shelter his best friend from any of the words she needed to say. They were burning in her veins. He would listen to every one.

––––––

Maddox should have known. He’d been careless with his words, but he hadn’t been blameless in weaponizing them. He didn’t believe for a moment Cygnus was as blameless as everyone made him out to be, and with all the bullshit going on, maybe it was time for someone to check in on him. He didn’t think Cygnus would get sent to Azkaban or anything, but the bastard deserved to have his feathers ruffled. Didn’t he? But now he had to deal with Diana. Her letter hadn’t said as much, but it was no better than a damn summons. Sometimes he didn’t know how Podric put up with her. Except that he did. Because he liked her too, even if she could be too much at times. He sighed deeply as he made his way up to the Manor. He didn’t know why she still lived there. The place creeped him out. The building loomed over him, haunting, no doubt filled with secrets Diana ignored.

He swallowed, lifting his hand to knock when the door swung open. A small elf peered up at him, “Mistress Carrow is in the drawing room. She will see you now.” He croaked. Maddox clenched his jaw before nodding, “thank you.” He added before stepping inside. He wiped his feet at the door before heading through the halls toward the drawing room. He’d been there before, but it had been awhile. He far preferred hanging out with Di literally anywhere else. The door to the drawing room was open, but he still hesitated at the entry way. Fire crackled in the fireplace, a family portrait resting on the mantel. He could see Diana sitting in one of the chairs, a box with sewing supplies tucked beside her. There was a tea set out as well, the tea pot moving to pour a cup for him as it recognized the presence of another. His mouth suddenly felt dry. “Hey, what’s with the formalities?” He asked, sheepishly.

––––––

Diana turned, sitting up straighter as she heard Maddox arrive. Immediately he was joking with her. What was wrong with him? She frowned, moving to stand. Her hand swept over her skirt as she did. “This isn’t a joke, Maddox.” She scolded, gesturing for him to come and sit with her. “I know what you did to Cygnus. Against my better judgement, I’m praying there’s some sort of innocent explanation for why you’d do something so selfish, so stupid.” She added, wanting to give him the opportunity to speak first. Once she started, she had little doubt he wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise. It was only fair for him to explain first.

She moved to sit again as Maddox made his way over. He looked guilty. Good. He should feel guilty. She offered him the teacup, watching as he took it with a quiet thank you, but set it aside, uninterested for the time being. “Look, Di. I know he’s your friend, though I still don’t understand why. It wasn’t a big deal, I was talking to Reynard, and some things got said that maybe shouldn’t have. He’s not going to Azkaban, he just had a shitty night, and you know after everything he’s done, maybe that’s a little just dessert, you know?” He began.

Diana blinked slowly. Rage filled her as she sat silently, watching him. It wasn’t a big deal? He deserved it? She should have known Maddox didn’t have the maturity to actually talk about this, to see that what he’d done was cruel and selfish. “No.” She agreed, “He’s not going to Azkaban, because thankfully he has an excellent team of lawyers who know what they’re doing, but you didn’t know that, Maddox. You didn’t know anything that would happen. You were so excited to jump at this opportunity to hurt him, over this––this feud you two have that you didn’t think at all!” She shrilled, voice rising as Maddox settled back, wisely quieting.

“You have no idea what it’s like, to have your home torn apart, to be accused of awful things like that. You got him arrested, interrogated, Maddox!” She continued, voice wavering as she set her tea cup down to avoid spilling any of it. “You think this is a game, but this is someone’s life. Someone I care about. You’re selfish and mean, and I can’t believe you still don’t understand that.” She shook her head, frowning as he responded.

Maddox’s jaw clenched. “Selfish, and mean? I’m selfish and mean?” He demanded. After all the times he’d dealt with her, all the times he’d born her sharp tongue, her so called friends? He’d never even complained that she was close to Cygnus, not to her anyway. “It was a joke, Diana. For fucks sake, lighten up. Not everything is so serious.” He huffed, trying his best to keep the growl from his voice.

“Yes it is!” Diana shouted. “Merlin, Maddox. Don’t you get it? You think this is funny? He could’ve been hurt, or sent to Azkaban. Jokes aren’t supposed to hurt people, and you know that! You say that all the time, but here you let yourself be blinded over something so stupid! If you don’t like him, fine, but this was too far.” She insisted, in disbelief. Was he being defensive just for the sake of it, or did he really feel he’d done nothing wrong? She shook her head, moving to stand at the same time Maddox did.

“Yeah, Di! I thought it was funny. It was a joke that the auror chose to take seriously. I didn’t do that. I didn’t say go arrest him. I didn’t tell them to go tear his house apart. You know why they did? Because they also believe he’s not as innocent as he claims to be. I know you hate thinking about it, I get it. These people are your friends, your family, but they aren’t all good Diana. Not everyone actually wants what’s best for you or anyone else. You think they’d all treat you the same if you weren’t a pureblood? You think you’d have the same experience if your last name was something else?” He demanded, standing in front of her.

Diana’s eyes flashed with hurt as she looked up at Maddox, taken aback by his words. Is this what he truly felt? Did he think she was just a naive, spoiled pureblood who couldn’t see past the ugly truth? Her stomach twisted as she shook her head. “You don’t even know him.” She insisted, voice colder. “You think you do, but you haven’t got any idea.”

“Yeah? Then why are you so afraid? If he didn’t have anything to hide, this should be an inconvenience, nothing more. But here you are, terrified that he could go to Azkaban. Why is that, Diana? They don’t send people to Azkaban who are innocent, Diana. You know that.” He challenged, watching her. He knew he was overstepping, again. Podric was going to kill him, but Merlin she was pissing him off. If Cygnus had nothing to hide, this shouldn’t matter. They both knew she was afraid because the possibility of him not being innocent was all too real. “You wanna blame the aurors, you wanna blame everyone who calls out the bullshit, but you don’t want to face the truth. Some of the people you love are bad people, Di. I’m sorry. It’s just the truth. You wouldn’t be afraid if you didn’t know that.”

Diana inhaled, watching him as angry tears welled in he eyes. She willed them away, standing quietly to collect herself. “Innocent people get swept up in these things too, Maddox, because your precious aurors are just as blinded as you are. They believed you because Cygnus knows people, just like I do. What do you think would happen if you said my home had dark and dangerous artefacts hidden? Do you think the aurors would care that I haven’t done anything? Like you said, my experience is different because of my name.” She argued, watching as he had the good sense to look apologetic. “They’d love to have a reason to go after me, to have unrestricted access to the manor, and they feel the same about Cygnus. You gave them their reason, Maddox. You. I’m supposed to be able to trust you.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look Di, not everything’s gonna end up the same way as your parents. They were into some deep shit, you know. They would’ve found a reason eventually for them too, even if Vulcan hadn’t––”

“Stop it!” Diana shouted.

Maddox bristled, but wet his lips before nodding. “Yeah, I know. Sensitive topic, but we both know I’m right. This is very different than your parents, Diana. You can hate the aurors all you want, they’re just doing their job.” He insisted. “You have no reason to believe they were unprofessional with Cygnus. They might’ve been looking for a reason to investigate, but why is that, Di? Because it’s Tuesday and they felt like it? Don’t be so stupid. You’re not naive, even if you wish you were. They needed a reason, it wasn’t my intention to give them one, and I’m sorry it scared you, but maybe now they’ll back off, now that they know he’s not actually hiding dark shit in his house. Your parents, they’re monsters, and that’s what aurors do. They find the monsters and they put them away, Cygnus’ problem was different.”

She couldn’t believe what he was saying, so cavalier, like he wasn’t talking about the way her life had been uprooted. She didn’t think, anger, and hurt crashing over her as she drew back her hand and brought it across his cheek, the smack sharp enough to make her hand sting, and redden just as his cheek did. “Don’t you dare talk about my parents.” She hissed, watching as Maddox lifted his hand, jaw clenched, holding his cheek where she’d slapped him. “What the fuck, Diana!” He shouted, angry too. He’d gone too far, he knew it, they both knew it, but she’d kept pushing and pushing him to feel guiltier than he already did. He’d snapped. Now, so had she.

Maddox frowned, his cheek stinging where she’d slapped him. “Okay. Okay.” He breathed, exhaling. “Look, Diana. I do care about you, I know you don’t feel like that right now, and I know I should’ve maybe been less of an asshole to Cygnus, but you don’t get to act like I’ve thrown him in Azkaban. I’m sorry I said shit about your parents, that wasn’t cool of me, but it’s true. I really never meant for them to investigate him, they must’ve had enough reason to do it. He’s fine though, right?” He asked, jaw tight, still pissed, but wanting to salvage what he could.

Diana turned, breaths uneven. “I think you should go.” She answered, tears welling faster now. Maddox frowned, “Diana––” he began. “Go away, Maddox!” She shouted. He withdrew, swallowing. “Yeah, alright. Alright fine. I’ll talk to you later, Di. I’m sorry again.” He muttered, before turning, heading for the door. Diana didn’t turn back around to see him out. Instead, she let the tears fall, an ugly sob tearing from her lips. Maddox had made sense, in some ways, but she knew better when it came to Cygnus. That had been wrong. They had no true reason to investigate him, not like her parents.

It didn’t make any of it hurt less. She’d forgive him, eventually, but right now she wished he’d stay far, far away.

#violence tw #[ drabble ]#[ musings. ]#[ i was never on trial | threads. ]#[ maddox. ]#[ cygnus. ]#oooof this was a doozy

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mistresslunastarx · 5 months

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Chapter 3: Echoes of a Shattered Bond

The revelation of Star's dual existence left Daniel grappling with the shattered fragments of his reality. The clandestine room, adorned with symbols and artifacts, bore witness to the unraveling of the enigmatic mistress he thought he knew. Eclipse, the harbinger of truth, watched in silence as the tempest of emotions tore through the fabric of their entangled lives.

In the aftermath of their confrontation, Daniel attempted to forge a path away from the shadows of Star's deception. The city, once a playground for their clandestine encounters, now mirrored the desolation within his heart. Skyscrapers stood as silent witnesses to the crumbling remnants of a love built on veiled truths.

Nights became a torment, haunted by dreams that refused to release their grip on Daniel's subconscious. In one scenario, he found himself lost in a labyrinth of mirrors, each reflecting a different facet of Star's enigmatic persona. Her laughter echoed through the corridors of his mind, a melody that seemed to dance just beyond his reach.

In another dream, he was trapped in a kaleidoscope of city lights, each flicker a reminder of stolen moments that now felt like fragments of a forgotten fairy tale. Star's silhouette danced in the neon glow, her eyes holding the secrets of a thousand nights. No matter how hard he tried to escape, the allure of her presence lingered like a ghost, a specter haunting the recesses of his subconscious.

During waking hours, Daniel sought solace in the mundane routines of daily life. He attempted to fill the void left by Star's absence, but the echoes of their past continued to reverberate through the corridors of his mind. The city, once a vibrant backdrop, now felt like a labyrinth of memories he couldn't escape.

In a desperate bid to move on, Daniel immersed himself in work, social engagements, and even attempted to forge connections with new faces. Yet, in every crowded room, he found himself searching for a familiar silhouette, the scent of her perfume lingering like an unspoken promise.

Three scenarios etched themselves into the tapestry of his attempts to move forward:

The Café Encounter: One day, while trying to lose himself in the pages of a book at a quaint café, Daniel was startled by the arrival of a woman whose silhouette seemed hauntingly familiar. For a brief moment, he believed it to be Star, only to be confronted by the cruel realization that it was a stranger. The encounter left him questioning the boundaries between reality and illusion.

The Unanswered Call: Late one night, unable to quell the restlessness that gnawed at his soul, Daniel dialed Star's number, yearning for a connection that had long since fractured. The call went unanswered, and the void on the other end echoed with the silence of a love lost. He clung to the phone, a lifeline to a past slipping through his fingers.

The Familiar Fragrance: In a crowded street, Daniel caught a whiff of Star's signature perfume. He turned, half-expecting to see her ethereal presence, only to be met by the indifferent faces of passing strangers. The scent lingered, an olfactory phantom that bound him to the memories of their clandestine encounters.

As the chapter unfolded, Daniel's attempts at moving on were juxtaposed with these scenarios, each a haunting reminder of a love that refused to be forgotten. The city, once a stage for their passion, transformed into a labyrinth of longing.

The mysterious ending arrived as Daniel, wandering through a dimly lit alley, stumbled upon a street artist sketching a portrait. The artist, with an enigmatic smile, handed Daniel the finished piece. To his astonishment, the portrait depicted a hauntingly familiar face—the enigmatic silhouette of Star. The artist vanished into the shadows, leaving Daniel with a portrait that seemed to hold the secrets of a love that defied the boundaries of time and space. The chapter closed with Daniel gazing at the portrait, the mystery of its creation echoing the enigma of his feelings for Star, leaving readers to ponder the blurred lines between reality and the echoes of a shattered bond.

#story

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arsprince · 6 months

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the corridors of the manor were haunted by the ghosts of its master and mistress — the carcass of their marriage that rotted in the basement, the understanding shared between them that had long wilted with the ravenous flowers in the gardens. he stood before their portrait in the foyer, feeling the painted eyes of his wife boring into him from above with the sort of biblical wrath bearing righteous judgment. it is cruel and vivid in its hatred, and yet an improvement to the cold apathy of her tangible gaze, where it stabbed into his back as surely as the dagger she wished to have in its place — he felt more so than saw stella's presence upon her entrance; the click of her heels, the scent of her perfume, the drag of her skirts against the polished flooring, and the timbre of her voice. he would know her by sense alone, for how moulded she had become to him.

it was his noble line, and his manor, and his bride, and his daughter. it was a hoard he lounged upon, a pile of possessions, yet it had not been enough to satisfy him and his cravings. he understood her wrath and permitted it, for he knew he had scorned her, but he would not stomach her verdict.

@estrla said, i look at you and it is like my throat being cut.

❝ then don't look. ❞ the casual ease is unbecoming of his deep tone, almost petty. at times, stolas thought he provoked her ire for his own entertainment, lest he were to forget she was his living bride and not a phantom haunting the rooms of his house, for all the emotion she spared him. at times, he wished she would throw something at him, or be selfish and find a lover to spite him, if only it would spur any semblance of satisfaction in her and dissipate his guilt in turn. ❝ you are bound to me by obligation, and i to you. ❞ stolas drawled eventually, no warmth nestled in his tone. dealing with her moods, he had discovered early on, was a drab affair that he no longer indulged. presently, he granted her the courtesy of facing her as he spoke, his features set in a habitual boredom. ❝ do not mistake that duty for the slightest indication i owe you anything beyond tolerance. my affairs are my own and i will do as i please, stella. ❞

his irritation was a grand, vile thing, manifesting in the billow of his cape as he took a stride toward her, fabrics casting a flock of shadows that dispersed like wild birds. grasping her chin, he tilted her head up, ❝ so revolt all you want, or don’t, it matters little to me. it’d certainly be more bearable for us both were you to endure in silence, though. ❞

#estrla #i hate him i hate him i ha-

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tehuti88-art · 11 months

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6/2/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Dagmar Himmel-Kammler. She's deceased long before the main storyline. Her awkward surname is her attempt at a compromise between her clingy brother, Dietmar Kammler, and her husband, Otto Himmel, who despite her efforts don't get along. Himmel never really stops mourning her death even years later. There'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding her design, she intentionally looks a lot like Dietmar, as I've just realized the two of them are twins. Oddly, she's a bit taller than he is, though.

TUMBLR EDIT: I don't really know anything about Dagmar's and twin brother Dietmar's (Dr. Kammler) lives growing up. They seem to be comfortably upper-middle class, and I believe they lose their parents young, although when they're old enough to get by on their own; maybe around age sixteen or so. Dagmar is the older of the two (albeit barely), and quickly assumes the parental role for her emotionally immature and insecure brother. Dietmar is constantly fretful and anxious, especially about Dagmar's wellbeing--likely because she's the only person he has, and also the only person willing and able to put up with him--and he becomes unhealthily clingy as a result. There are hints that his feelings for her, especially in light of his attitude toward Himmel later on, are borderline inappropriate--Dietmar never does get married, take a mistress, or even engage in any casual relationships that I know of, the only feminine influence in his life is his sister--though Dagmar, if she's aware of this, both tolerates and yet ignores it. She dotes on her younger brother and constantly reassures him she's there for him, since without her, he'd be completely alone.

Since their parents presumably leave them a decent amount of savings to get by, they continue living in the nice big house on a nice better-off street near the edge of the city. It's roomy and bright and airy and there's plenty of space for Dietmar's science experiments and Dagmar's artwork. Dietmar has hopes of attending medical school whereas Dagmar prefers more creative pursuits; she spends her days painting watercolors, often taking trips to the city park or other natural areas for inspiration (and always returning by evening lest Dietmar worry too much). The two of them are largely opposites; Dietmar is introverted, sour tempered, and has a bit of a cruel streak (judging by the living subjects he occasionally torments in his makeshift lab), whereas Dagmar is friendly and sociable, patient, and kind natured enough that she prefers to avoid checking in on Dietmar as he works. She can't bear to see other living beings suffering, yet she loves her brother, so she adopts an "out of sight, out of mind" mentality. She hopes medical school, and becoming a doctor, might improve his morals, so encourages him in that. Dietmar, meanwhile, really doesn't "get" art, but he can see that this pursuit makes her happy, and so offers compliments on her art when he can.

As I mentioned, the city park, with its open landscaping, tree-lined paths, benches to rest on, and river flowing sedately nearby, is Dagmar's favorite place to find subjects to paint, both landscapes and candid portraits of the interesting people she observes walking by. One day after she and Dietmar have grown and he's either on his way to becoming a doctor or has just become one (fudgy timelines in my story, I admit), Dagmar gathers her brushes, her paints, her easel, and sets out. The day had started out gloomy but there's been a lovely break in the clouds, there's no war to worry about anymore, and Dagmar hums happily to herself as she sketches out a few ideas for paintings. After a while, she decides to try her luck near the river. She sees a large tree arching out over the water; since the clouds are starting to return, and she even feels a few sprinkles of rain, she stashes her supplies under a bush, taking just a drawing pad and pencil, and approaches the tree for the best view. It starts to rain as she's drawing and she tries to move to a better position to make a few more hurried sketches when her foot suddenly slips in the wet grass and with a startled cry she tumbles into the river.

Dagmar plunges under the water, resurfaces, sputters; she's not a very good swimmer, and the riverbank beside the tree is steep, with little to grasp hold of but grass or dirt. She grabs at a root but can barely hold on; the river doesn't seem nearly so sedate anymore now that she's in it and it's trying to sweep her away. The now-furious downpour doesn't help any, either. She tries to yell for help but has trouble finding her voice, chokes a few times, tries again...but she'd noticed how the people in the park had started picking up and leaving as the clouds rolled back in, and with a growing sense of despair she doesn't think there are many left to hear her. Still, she sucks in a breath and lets out one loud yell before plunging under again.

It takes her longer this time to break the surface again as she scrabbles to keep hold of the root; her head pops up, she gasps, blinks her eyes open. And there on the riverbank above her, holding tight to a low branch with one arm and extending the other toward her, is a young man in a Reichswehr uniform. "Grab on!" he shouts; blinking again, she sees now that he's holding out a wooden cane. She grabs it as hard as she can; "Hold on," the soldier yells, and starts slowly but steadily tugging her closer. "Grab my arm," he shouts when she's close enough; she does so, and the cane is swept away as he pulls her up after him, yanking her out of the water and onto the grass. They both turn their heads, gasping and bedraggled, watching the cane as it rapidly bobs away and then vanishes from sight under the hurtling water. "Come on," the soldier pants, "away from the water." She holds on to his arm and they stumble further up the bank and collapse on level ground to catch their breath.

Soldier: "Are you hurt...?"

Dagmar: "I don't think so...dank dir! I thought for certain no one was left to hear me...why were you out in the rain?"

Soldier: "I prefer coming here in the rain...no people. Why were you so close to the water? You know the danger, ja...?"

Dagmar: "I was trying to look at that tree."

Soldier: "Tree...?" *looks at it, then back at her, brow furrowed* "Why?"

Dagmar: "I wanted to paint a picture...my supplies are under that bush, I lost my notebook...I'm sorry about your cane."

Soldier: "It's all right. Here." *pushes himself up, helps her up as well; retrieves her art supplies; she sees he's limping* "They're a little damp."

Dagmar: *takes the supplies* "Did you hurt yourself--?"

Soldier: "Old injury. You have a way to get home safely?"

Dagmar: "Ja, I can perhaps call a taxi...what about you?"

Soldier: "My place isn't far. If you're going to be all right..."

Dagmar: "Wait, you intend to walk--? In this rain?"

Soldier: "I've been in worse. It isn't far."

Dagmar: "I'm truly sorry about your cane...I can call you a taxi, too."

Soldier: *stepping back* "Nein, danke, it's fine. Guten Abend noch." *leaves*

Dagmar: *long pause; blinks, holds up her hand* "I didn't...!" *trails off* *quietly* "I didn't get your name."

Dagmar heads home without bothering to call a taxi. She's twice soaked through by the time she gets there, where Dietmar is waiting; he frets and fusses and fetches a towel, clamoring to know where she's been and why she was gone so long and what on earth happened, then after finding out, scolding her for being so negligent. He gives her privacy to change, takes away her wet clothes to dry, wraps her in a blanket, brews up some hot tea. Dagmar pays little attention; her mind is elsewhere. She can't stop thinking of the soldier in the park. Despite his apparent desire to be alone, despite his limp and his old injury, despite his obvious discomfort just talking to her--she suspects he's rather poor, based on his faded uniform and his reaction to her wanting to call him a taxi--he did save her life, and make sure she was all right. One thing about him in particular struck her: How sad his eyes were. Despite that sadness, he looked out for her first. She can't get that expression out of her head.

Dagmar returns to the park several times over the following days, hoping to see him again, yet he doesn't show. Meanwhile, in an effort to get the constant niggling out of her head, she starts a portrait of him from memory. Dietmar sees this one day in the room she uses as a studio and frowns, puzzled, asking who he is; for some reason Dagmar feels ill at ease describing her interaction, so tells a small lie, claiming he's just somebody she imagined. She actually wonders a little if maybe it's so, when it suddenly hits her: He'd said he preferred to go out in the rain, to avoid people. It's been sunny ever since. Dagmar decides to wait until the weather is gloomy again before heading back out. Dietmar is of course confused, but just urges her to be more cautious this time, and please take an umbrella.

Dagmar reaches the park just as it starts to sprinkle and the few people there are leaving. Wanders around a while, growing a bit dispirited; at last, though, seated on a bench near the far side of the park where there's located a small open space planted with red poppies, she finds him, staring at the flowers bobbing in the rain. She notices on drawing closer that he's holding his gun on his lap; this makes her a little nervous, but she approaches him anyway. He actually jumps a little when she offers a cautious hallo, and stares at her, confused, for a moment until she mentions their previous meeting; she thinks at first that he doesn't remember her, though it soon becomes clear he was simply lost in thought. He surreptitiously puts his gun away and stands up--he has a new cane--offering to vacate the bench; when she says she actually hoped to run into him again, his confusion returns. She tries to explain how she hasn't been able to get their meeting out of her head, but she's not very good at clarifying why, and he seems perplexed as to why she'd be interested in talking with him. Trying a different tack, she finally just introduces herself, and asks his name. He replies, "Otto...Otto Himmel."

Dagmar's an intuitive sort, always keeping her eyes open for inspiration, whatever form it may take. To find a wounded soldier with the name Heaven staring at a field of poppies seems almost too obvious, yet here he is. They talk for a few moments, though he seems rather shy and ill at ease, and she senses he's humoring her more to be polite than anything. She doesn't keep him long, not wanting him to be uncomfortable, and they soon part ways although she expresses the hope they can talk again soon. He still seems perplexed, yet says nothing, just bobbing his head and wishing her good day as she goes.

In between dealing with Dietmar and working on her paintings--rainy landscapes, poppy fields, her unfinished portrait of the "sad-eyed soldier"--Dagmar returns to the park repeatedly over the following weeks, especially when it's gloomy. She always greets Otto when she runs across him, and attempts to engage him in conversation. The first several times are awkward; he seems almost to resent her presence although he never expresses it and is never anything but formal and polite--she gets the distinct feeling he'd really rather she left him alone. Remembering the way he was holding his gun in his lap that first time, however, convinces her to keep at it unless he should outright request her to leave, which he never does. And indeed, as time goes on, his ill humor fades into tolerance, then cautious acceptance. She does most of the talking and initiates the conversations; Otto is very soft spoken and drawn in on himself, keeps his head slightly lowered, rarely makes eye contact when they talk. It strikes her that he has more than physical wounds. He does tell her a little about himself when asked: His father died when he was very young, his mother when he was a teenager, so he enlisted in the army and served throughout the entirety of the Great War. (She learns later on that he was only fourteen when he joined, and lied about his age.) While in hospital recuperating from shell shock and a serious injury to his leg, he caught the flu and just barely pulled through while many of his fellow patients succumbed, though it all took its toll; promoted to Hauptmann, captain, he managed to hold on to his military post when most of the army was dissolved and reformed as the Reichswehr, though he does most of his work behind a desk now. Dagmar tells him about her life with Dietmar and hopes they might get to meet, also hoping he'll take the hint that she'd like to see him someplace other than the park sometime, yet he never suggests they do so; sensing that she'll have to be the one to make the first move, one day she finally does, and kisses him.

As soon as Dagmar pulls back and looks Otto in the eyes, she can tell she's made a mistake. He stares back at her for a moment, eyes wide like a deer in lights, before shooting to his feet so abruptly she jerks back. "I have to go," he blurts out, grabs his cane, turns, and hurriedly starts limping away. Confused and dismayed, Dagmar stands up too, holding out her hand--"Wait!--I'm sorry!"--thinking maybe he's a little more old fashioned than she'd thought, and she must have offended him--yet he keeps walking, and she really doesn't want to upset him further, so she refrains from following. After he's gone some distance, though, she notices his step slow, then stop; he hesitates, then turns back. He seems to be trying to gather himself for a moment before returning, albeit slowly and reluctantly. Dagmar stands and waits until he reaches her, halting several feet away, fingers fiddling at a button on his coat. He doesn't make eye contact at first, and can't seem to think of what to say, but Dagmar can tell it took everything he had just to make himself come back, so she hurries to say, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you," though Otto quickly shakes his head, still not looking at her.

Himmel: "You didn't. Just..." *trails off, long awkward pause* "I'm not very good at this."

Dagmar: "I think you're doing fine."

Himmel: "It's kind of you to say so." *pause* "I felt...at least I owe you an explanation for my rudeness."

Dagmar: "You don't owe me anything, Herr Otto. If I've made you uncomfortable, it's your right to step away. I'm only sorry that I did."

Himmel: *peers at her, finally making eye contact* *pause* "It's...not you in particular. I'm just...not very good around...people."

Dagmar: "If you'd like me to let you be..."

Himmel: *shakes head* "It's not that. I've enjoyed our talks. Just..." *trails off, looking very ill at ease*

Dagmar: *pause* "How about we continue talking then, ja...?"

Himmel: *peers at her again, seeming to relax a little* "Ja...I'd like that. Very much."

They continue with their talks and walks in the park, getting to know each other better. Contrary to his off-putting initial impression, once he starts to feel comfortable around her, Otto is actually quite pleasant to talk to, clearly well educated and well spoken and a good listener. His politeness isn't feigned; he seems to genuinely care about how his actions and words affect others. It isn't long before Dagmar notices a change every time she arrives to meet him; rather than his previous awkward sulkiness, he instead lights up a little to see her, sitting up a bit straighter rather than huddling in on himself, making eye contact. He also no longer sits with his gun in his lap, and they even meet on sunny days. He seems now to not only enjoy but look forward to her company.

There are still hints of insecurity, however. He immediately closes off when Dagmar suggests going to his place, so she changes tack again and asks if he would like to visit her place: "I'd like to show you some of my art, and you can meet Dietmar," she says. He looks ready to turn her down until her mention of Dietmar being there; that makes it obvious she has no more intimate ideas in mind, so he hesitantly agrees.

They walk to her house, as both seem to prefer it (despite his limp) and he declines the offer of a taxi. It's a pleasant excursion though he seems to grow quieter and uneasier the closer they get to her home; he peers at the big houses lining the quiet little street with its shade trees, shiny cars parked out front, and when she finally points out that they've arrived he pulls up short, fiddling with his buttons again and obviously reluctant to accompany her up the steps--"You live here?" he asks, stressing the "here" as if he'd rather be anywhere else. It takes some coaxing before he accompanies her up to the door, and after she lets them in he stands awkwardly in the foyer, drawn in, head lowered like old times. For some reason the house makes him anxious. When Dietmar appears a moment later, he's just as guarded and perplexed, asking, "Dagmar...? Who's this?" Dagmar introduces them, though she doesn't tell Dietmar how long the two of them have been meeting, knowing he'll be jealous and will wonder why she's never mentioned him before; still, she can tell from the look on his face that he recognizes the soldier from the painting she made, a person she'd claimed she imagined, so he's already caught her in a lie. Otto offers a quiet hallo and holds out his hand; Dietmar hesitates but shakes it and says hallo back. Dagmar feels both relief as well as a bit of hope that perhaps the two of them will get along. Despite this, Dietmar expresses mild disapproval when Dagmar asks Otto to follow her; she clarifies they're just going to see her studio, so he remains behind as they go. "I don't think he likes me," Otto murmurs, to which Dagmar reassures him, "He just worries about me a bit much. I'm sure he'll relax as he gets to know you." Otto seems skeptical, yet doesn't argue.

He appears awed at the sight of her studio: "This used to be the sunroom," Dagmar explains, "I thought it was the best room for art, the best light in the house." The room is full of paintings both finished and in progress, numerous landscapes, a few portraits and still lifes. Otto marvels over her work, identifying several places he's visited himself, then comes up short before his own portrait; Dagmar blushes and moves to cover it, not having intended him to see it, though he doesn't seem embarrassed, simply asking, "When did you paint this...?" Dagmar explains it was after their first meeting in the park; he furrows his brow and says, "You did this from memory...?" Dagmar shrugs a little; "Silly little skill of mine, I rarely forget a face," she murmurs. The two of them stare at each other a moment, then comes the sound of a throat clearing; they turn and see Dietmar hovering near the doorway, and exit the room. Dagmar invites Otto to stay for dinner, though Dietmar immediately protests that he's prepared food for only the two of them; Dagmar says she can fix an extra place but Otto demurs, insisting he needs to return home. Dagmar sees him off, though she does say she hopes they see each other again soon, and notices the way Dietmar bristles just slightly. Once Otto is gone he can no longer contain himself.

Dietmar: "A soldier--? A plainly destitute one at that! How could you let him in our house? What if he'd stolen something?"

Dagmar: "Oh, Dee! Why must you think the worst of everyone? Herr Otto's not a thief."

Dietmar: "And how do you know? You just know him from the park? He could be anyone! Might not even be a soldier! Who knows what he could've done if I hadn't been here."

Dagmar: "You're being silly! Of course he's a soldier, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, he served our country nobly. And so what if he had stolen something? As if we would even notice with everything we have? You should feel charity toward him, not suspicion. What's gotten into you?"

Dietmar: "I could ask the same of you! Dragging home random riffraff from the park. He could've done anything."

Dagmar: *bristling* "Otto is NOT riffraff! You'll stop with such names! Mother and Father taught us both better than this!"

Dietmar: *cowed* "I just...worry about you, is all. You trust everyone far too easily! What really do you even know about this person? He could be anyone. If I don't look out for you then who will...?"

Dagmar calms herself down, reassures her brother, but still his attitude bothers her. She decides not to mention the argument when she meets Otto again, though as they walk together, she notices how subdued he is, before he finally talks.

Himmel: "Something is wearing on you today."

Dagmar: "Huh...?"

Himmel: "You're oddly quiet." *pause* "It's Herr Dietmar, isn't it."

Dagmar: "Why would you think that?"

Himmel: "It's plain he doesn't think much of me."

Dagmar: "He's just overly cautious. He worries about me. A little too much."

Himmel: "You can't really blame him. The two of you seem close. What if he were the one to someday bring a strange person home with him? Somebody about whom you know nothing? I imagine you would worry, ja...?"

Dagmar: "Dietmar's the last person to just bring someone home. Anyway, he's an adult, I trust him to make good decisions for himself. I don't need him treating me like he's a mother hen."

Himmel: "Still...I wouldn't know from my own experience, but isn't this the way brothers and sisters are? Of course he'll worry about you, when you bring home a stranger."

Dagmar: "You're not a stranger, Herr Otto."

Himmel: "To him, I am. And even you really don't know much about me."

Dagmar sees an opening: She cautiously suggests she could know him better, could avoid the awkwardness of another meeting with Dietmar, if she were to visit his place instead. Otto promptly shrinks in on himself, but she refuses to let him close himself off this time, clasping his arm and coaxing. Seeing that withdrawing won't work, he starts offering excuses instead, yet she brushes them off until finally he says what she's been suspecting: "It, my place...I...haven't done quite as well for myself as you and your brother have...I don't have much to show you. Nothing at all like you have. Nothing much to see."

So, there's at least part of Otto's reluctance to open up too much to her: "You haven't much money?" Dagmar says, which makes him cringe and pull in further. She makes an amused noise: "Herr Otto, if not for my parents I'd have little money, too. It doesn't mean anything to me. It's you I enjoy talking to. And lots of people are hurting since the war, it's no reason to be ashamed." She at last manages after some more coaxing to get him to agree to a visit the next time they meet, though it's obvious he's still highly uncomfortable.

Dagmar doesn't tell her brother about her next meeting, and indeed avoids his niggling little attempts at bringing up the matter. She meets Otto in the park, and he makes a last effort to dissuade her--"I really have nothing to show you, it's just an apartment, there's nothing to see"--yet she persists, so he hangs his head a little and they leave the park, walking further into the city. The walk isn't even as long as hers. He brings her to a small kosher deli on a street corner; she's about to ask him, confused, "You live here--?" before he gestures and says, "This way," and they go around to the side of the building, toward the back; there's a door facing the sidewalk. Within, a little vestibule, and he leads her up a dark, rickety set of steps to a landing out front of another door which he unlocks before stepping aside--there's barely enough room for both of them to stand--and gesturing her forward. Dagmar slips past him and he turns on a lamp near the door, illuminating the tiniest living quarters she's ever seen.

Dagmar starts to look around while Otto remains near the still-open door, head lowered, drawn in on himself. Despite the apartment's minuscule size, dimness, and a damp chill in the air, it's in pristine condition, the small space swept and dusted and orderly. Granted, this is partly due to there being so little there to keep in order; there's hardly any decor or furnishings--a crucifix on the wall, a dresser with a few framed photos and religious artworks, a small bookshelf with a handful of books, a little table and chair, a cupboard, a bed. Dagmar looks out the lone window--"There's not much view," Otto says, which is true, it overlooks the side street and the building wall opposite, yet, "There's a nice clear view of the sky," Dagmar offers, looking up. She goes to the dresser and picks up an old photograph--a man, a woman, a toddler--"Your parents?" Dagmar asks, and he nods. Another photo shows only the woman and a young boy--even at that age, Dagmar recognizes his sad eyes. His mother has the same eyes. She gestures at the top drawer and he nods for her to go ahead, so she opens it and peers inside. Buried under some assorted knickknacks, toward the very back, she finds it: a medal. She carefully pulls it out and looks it over before casting Otto a surprised look.

Dagmar: "An Iron Cross...?"

Himmel: *shrugs*

Dagmar: "First Class. You were awarded twice." *perplexed look*

Himmel: "Doesn't mean anything. They gave them to everybody."

Dagmar stares at Otto a moment--he refuses to look back, just stares miserably at the floor--before carefully returning the Iron Cross to its spot and closing the drawer. She steps back to him and stops before him so he actually flinches a bit, shrinking in on himself even more. She pauses briefly before venturing, "Could I offer an observation...? About you?" Otto finally lifts his head a little and makes eye contact; he seems perplexed himself, yet nods.

Dagmar: "You seem...full of shame. Like you feel you're not good enough for anyone else...broken, or something. It's all right for you to tell me I'm wrong, am I anywhere near close...?"

Himmel: *looks mildly stricken at first, then winces & lowers his head even further*

Dagmar: "I'll take that as ja. I hope you know at least, if it's because of the war, you're not alone in it. There are many people who feel broken, not good enough, but that doesn't make it true--"

Himmel: "It's--" *Dagmar falls silent* "It's not because of the war..." *trails off*

Dagmar: *waits a moment* "Could you tell me...?"

Himmel: "I'm not sure you'd understand."

Dagmar: "I could try. Bitte, Herr Otto...?"

Himmel: *long pause* "When...when we were in the park, and you..." *trails off* "It isn't only that I'm not good with people. It's...I'm not sure how to explain it. You, you know paints...I know you do watercolors, but do you know more opaque pigments? Mixing colors? Oils, perhaps?"

Dagmar: "I've done a few oil paintings and I've mixed colors, ja."

Himmel: "Mix black and white, you get gray."

Dagmar: "This I know, ja."

Himmel: "When I was young I watched my mother make a few paintings. She mixed the paints a certain way and I asked her why. When you mix the gray, how do you do it? What color do you start with?"

Dagmar: "White."

Himmel: "Mother did it the same way. She said it was wrong to start out with black paint."

Dagmar: *furrows brow* "What is it you're trying to say?"

Himmel: "Start out with white paint, add a little bit of black, you get gray paint. Light gray, yet still gray. Start out with black paint, add a little bit of white...you get nearly black. Black overpowers white. It's almost like it...consumes it. Snuffs out all the light." *pauses* "You and I...you're like the white paint, and I'm the black."

Dagmar: "How do you mean?"

Himmel: "I take away all the light. Make everything I touch gray."

Dagmar: "What makes you think this?"

Himmel: "I know you saw it. When you looked at the photograph. My mother was the same way. The reason I joined the army so young...I had nowhere else to go. She took her life when I was fourteen."

Dagmar: *stunned* "Herr Otto...I'm so sorry."

Himmel: "I know it sounds odd but I've never been angry with her for leaving me behind. I know she tried. Held on as long as she could. But it consumed her, too. And when I was born she passed it on to me. Like a curse."

Dagmar: "Herr Otto, you're not cursed."

Himmel: "I know not a literal curse...just...something wrong in the head, some bad gene or something...I'm not sure if you know about genes. Just some error in your makeup that you pass on to the next generation. Like a curse. You can fight it, but it's always there. Nothing can make it go away." *pauses* "You and I...you're the white paint, and I'm the black. You bring light wherever you go...I take the light away. Make everything I touch gray. It's not something I will to happen. It's better to just keep to myself."

Dagmar: *pause* "Herr Otto..." *trails off; after a long pause, approaches & takes his hands--he looks at her, a bit startled* "Herr Otto, you're not cursed. No one is pure white or pure black. Everything has at least a little bit of the other. Even I have a little black. Even you have a little white. Everything is somewhere in between. In the gray. You don't darken everything you touch...you just bring out what's already there."

Otto stares at her. After a moment Dagmar leans toward him and tentatively kisses him. He still tenses up a little, yet then relaxes, and he doesn't pull away.

He wakes her early the next morning, seeming embarrassed and sheepish, apologizing that he has to head to the military office where he does secretarial work since being injured. He gives her a bit of privacy to straighten herself out, and she takes a moment while he's busy getting ready himself to take a pen and piece of paper from his shelf and write him a little letter which she tucks under the bedcover for him to find later. As they go down the steps she asks if the deli is open and she can fetch something to eat; he says it is--the Jewish couple who own the place are the ones who rent him his apartment--and goes outside to wait for her on the sidewalk. While the woman waits on her at the counter, her husband suddenly comes hurrying out of the back with a broom in his hand, heading for the exit; the two women turn to look out the window just in time to see Otto swing and punch someone else standing in front of him. "Dietmar--!" Dagmar exclaims, and rushes outside after the deli owner.

As soon as she rounds the store corner--Otto, Dietmar, and the deli owner with his broom all confronting each other--Dietmar spots her and points accusingly at Otto.

Dietmar: "He hit me! You saw? Just attacked me! For no reason! I told you he's trouble!"

Dagmar: *looking at Himmel* "Otto--?"

Himmel: *stricken look; then scowls, but says nothing*

Deli owner: "That's a lie, der Herr! He had very good reason!" *turning to Dagmar* "I don't know this man, Fräulein, but I know Herr Himmel and he's decent folk. You may not have seen everything but I sure did!" *shakes broom at Dietmar* "This fellow came along and looks like he picked a fight with Herr Himmel. Just minding his own business. He threw the first punch! Just his lousy luck he missed and Herr Himmel got him instead! It was self-defense if anything at all."

Dagmar reproaches her brother--"What's gotten into you?"--even as he feebly tries to defend himself, claiming he was worried after she failed to return the previous night and so went out looking--questioning strangers in the park resulted in nothing, as none of them knew Himmel by name, so he tried a tavern where soldiers were known to gather, remembering that Himmel was one of them. Even they, however, had no idea who he was talking about (a foreign concept to Dietmar, who assumes all soldiers just know each other), except one, who informed him that "Hauptmann Himmel" never frequented bars, but he did know that he lived above a Jewish deli. By then it was late at night and Dietmar had to head home emptyhanded ("I got no sleep!--worrying dreadfully about you!"); he set out again early the next morning, easily locating the deli, but needing to wait until Himmel appeared. He again tries to protest that he was defending himself, which makes the deli owner shake his broom a second time--"You know very well you threw the first punch, der Herr!--as Gott is my witness!"--which makes Dietmar throw up his hands and exclaim, "Well then, why, if he's so damned innocent, won't he defend himself?--has someone cut your throat, Herr Hauptmann?--you had plenty to say when I was asking after my sister!" Himmel still says nothing so Dagmar finally puts herself between the two, telling the deli owner she can handle things now, asking Himmel to wait nearby and give her a moment, then reproaching Dietmar again: "I don't know what's come over you, Dee, but this needs to stop, now. We're both adults. I can look after myself, and you need to do the same. If I wish to spend time in Herr Otto's company then it's my right, and you have to accept that. I'm sorry I didn't call to let you know where I was, but you need to act more reasonably. You don't go attacking people! You're better than this! Now head on home and we'll discuss this more later today, I promise. I'm sorry I worried you so and I won't do it again. But you need to act responsibly, too."

She kisses Dietmar goodbye, waits firmly for him to leave; he does so only reluctantly, casting Himmel a dark look as he goes. The deli owner heads back inside as well, leaving Dagmar and Himmel alone. "Did he hit you...?" Dagmar asks, feeling foolish; Himmel shakes his head. She asks him the same thing as Dietmar--why didn't he speak up to defend himself? Himmel doesn't make eye contact as he replies, "He's your brother. Why should you believe me over him?"

Himmel heads off to his work and Dagmar takes a brief time to walk off her frustration in the park--stopping by the poppy field to take a few steadying breaths to calm herself down--before heading back home. She dreads dealing further with Dietmar's petulance but knows it'll just get worse if not nipped in the bud. To her relief, he mostly holds his tongue and only scowls a little as she explains the situation, though he does finally blurt out, "Did you sleep with him?" "It's none of your business what I did or didn't do with him!" Dagmar retorts, feeling a rare surge of anger, "And don't you dare ask me such questions again, do you understand?" Her sharp tone seems to cow him, and he backs down; "I just worry about you, is all--you're all I have left," he says plaintively, and she sighs and grasps his hands, saying that she knows, and promising to keep him apprised of where she is and what she's doing from now on, though he'll have to accept that she has a life of her own, too.

Himmel doesn't get in touch with her the rest of that day, which isn't too surprising considering he has no telephone. She looks for him in the park the next day, but he isn't there. Same thing the day after, and after that. Starting to worry, she asks after him in the deli; is told he goes out and comes home from work as always, though aside from that, and picking up necessities, he hasn't gone out, not even for a walk. She goes up to his apartment and knocks; he cracks the door and peers out. She notices how his expression darkens uncharacteristically as soon as he sees her.

Dagmar: "Hallo, Herr Otto."

Himmel: "Guten Tag."

Dagmar: "You haven't been to the park lately, are you feeling well...?"

Himmel: "Just busy is all."

Dagmar: "Busy here at home...?" *no response* "May I come in?"

Himmel: "I'm not sure it's a good idea."

Dagmar: "This is about Dietmar, ja? I've already explained things to him, his behavior was quite irrational--"

Himmel: "Except it wasn't." *Dagmar falls silent* "His actions, perhaps. But not the thought behind them. You two are close. Family. I shouldn't come between that."

Dagmar: "You haven't."

Himmel: "He's afraid of losing you. You have me, but he has no one. Isn't that what you said?"

Dagmar: "He still has me. I have time for both of you."

Himmel: "Yet he's your blood, and blood is most important. I'll be fine." *starts to close the door but Dagmar blocks him*

Dagmar: "You're not getting rid of me so easily and I'm not leaving you to wallow in your thoughts. Black paint! Same as Dietmar doesn't decide things for me, neither do you. Now let me in? Bitte? I want only to talk right now."

Himmel reluctantly lets her in. He listens mostly in silence, head lowered, as she goes over again what she went over before, that there's no shame in him defending himself, she has time for both him and Dietmar, he's no burden on her, and whatever trouble she has to deal with is her decision. Himmel replies only when prompted to, awkwardly explaining that the confrontation with Dietmar just seemed to confirm all his feelings about being "cursed": "I know there's no literal curse...in case you think me mad...yet I don't know how else to explain. This dark thing that just trails along behind someone down the years. I carry it, my mother carried it, her mother or father likely carried it and on and on. I know I can't literally pass it on to you but...it's like snuffing out a candle, it's still there darkening everything. Maybe your brother is right, just not in the way he thinks he is. I'm not good for you." "If you're bad for me, then that's still my decision to make," Dagmar says. "I choose whatever I get into with you. You don't trust me to make my own choices?" When Himmel insists this isn't what he means, she replies, "It's settled, then. If you're cursed, then you're my curse to deal with. But you know you're not. Let me deal with Dietmar for now. I hope the two of you can get along someday, though."

Himmel is still skeptical but agrees to let her decide for herself whether he's worth dealing with or not. He sees her to the door when she says she has to get back to Dietmar, yet suddenly remembers something and tells her to wait a moment; he retrieves something from the dresser and hands it to her--an envelope. "What is this?" Dagmar asks, curious; "The letter you left the last time," Himmel says, "a response." He says he wrote it before he was sure whether he'd talk to her again or not; he asks her not to read it until she's back home. Dagmar takes the letter--a bit surprised, as she'd forgotten about the one she left--and after the briefest hesitation kisses him before leaving.

Dagmar visits the park the next day, and finds him there, seated on the bench waiting for her; his face actually lights up a little. They resume their walks, with something new added: She replies to his letter with one of her own, and he reciprocates. It's odd, and a bit old fashioned, but she finds it charming, and he seems almost more comfortable communicating through writing than through speech; things that make his tongue stumble come out more easily through a pen. Despite the obvious poverty he and his family grew up in, his mother made sure he got a decent education, and he's very well read on numerous subjects (Dagmar is actually the one to spark his interest in fiction books), speaks several languages (and reads them as well), is a rather skilled fencer. One thing she learns about him is the main reason he was so ill at ease when she kissed him in the park; he admits that the first time he'd been with a woman was just before he went to the Western Front--at age fourteen--and it involved a pair of prostitutes. He went through with it only to avoid the mockery of his older fellow soldiers, and didn't enjoy the experience at all--it was humiliating and rather painful and the women kept pushing at him to participate despite his protests and obvious reluctance. He'd avoided dealing too closely with women ever since--Dagmar is only the second. Not wanting to add to his apparent shame, Dagmar simply says, "They should have let you be when you asked...it doesn't change my opinion of you though, Otto." She can literally see a weight leave his shoulders; he takes a breath, sits up a bit straighter, makes hesitant eye contact. When she grasps his hand he grasps hers back.

Time and the seasons pass and Dagmar and Himmel become close. Dietmar never really gets over his own spite; when Himmel comes to their house and holds out his hand for him to shake and make up, Dietmar refuses, and eats by himself rather than join them for dinner. Himmel is discouraged by this, but Dagmar takes up his time and thoughts so he doesn't dwell on it too much. Dietmar, too, is distracted by his medical studies; he finally earns his medical degree, and Dagmar lavishes him with praise. Even Himmel comments--to Dagmar, of course--that this is quite an accomplishment and her brother should be proud. His new title and job take up enough of Dietmar's time that for a while, the bitterness that rankles between the two men simmers down; they still avoid each other, but at least it isn't so tense anymore.

One day in the park, near the poppy field, Himmel stands in front of Dagmar and takes a small box out of his coat pocket; he hesitates and shrinks in on himself a little before seeming to try to shake it off, kneeling, and opening the box for her to see. Dagmar takes in a breath; inside is a ring, a plain simple band without a stone, yet she knows he must have used up quite a few of his savings to buy it. He again has that look as if he expects to be humiliated. Knowing he must have spent quite a while summoning up every ounce of courage he has, Dagmar doesn't pause long before holding out her left hand; Himmel blinks, then removes the ring from the box and slides it on her finger. He still seems uncertain until Dagmar smiles and murmurs, "Ja," and kisses him.

Figuring out the next step is considerably more complex. No matter what their feelings for each other, the class difference between Himmel and Dagmar is stark and difficult to reconcile; as he will be the husband, he expects to be the provider, yet all he has is his secretarial job for the army, which barely covers his own expenses, including his tiny city apartment over the deli. Dagmar, meanwhile, comes from money, doesn't have to work for a living (though she does sell an artwork now and then), and lives in her spacious house in a residential neighborhood. She is obviously more of a breadwinner than Himmel is. Her residence is also the far better choice, especially if they wish to start a family--Dagmar certainly longs for children, and when she broaches the subject to him, Himmel clearly hopes for the same thing--yet Dietmar, as expected, proves to be an obstacle, objecting stridently to the marriage proposal alone--there's no way to convince him and Himmel to live together under the same roof without a fight. For the time being, there's no other option but for Dagmar to move in with Himmel.

After their brief and simple wedding--just the two of them, a priest, and a witness, and Dagmar assumes the surname Himmel-Kammler, in the hopes that such a compromise will signal to both men how she feels about them--Dagmar goes to fetch a few belongings from her house. Dietmar promises to keep her artworks and supplies safe--he even insists she's still welcome to stay, no matter what her marriage situation--but Dagmar replies that she can't stay there without Himmel. Dietmar is devastated to be left on his own; Dagmar notices the tears in his eyes and hugs him, vowing that she'll be sure to visit him frequently enough that it will hardly be as if she left; as he hugs her back, Dietmar murmurs, "The moment he lets you down, you come right back, and all will be forgiven and forgotten, ja?" Dagmar realizes just how deep the spite between her brother and her husband is, and bites her tongue.

Himmel is similarly anxious when she returns with her things--he wonders whether she'll miss her sunroom, her paintings, her freedom. "You're not holding me hostage, Otto!" she exclaims as she puts things away in the drawer he's provided. "For now this is our home. I can make a painting here just as much as I can there. It's not where you are, it's your state of mind." She pauses, looks around, and says with a trace of concern, "Though I admit, it's rather small for a family..."

She notices how Himmel blinks when she says family, as if it's occurred to him at last that this is genuine. He approaches and clasps her face, looking her in the eyes--Dagmar's surprised by the certainty there, something she's not used to from him--and promises, "We'll make it work," and kisses her.

Dagmar spends her time between her tiny new home, visiting Dietmar (he's kept busier now that he's a doctor), and painting in the park, which is closer now that she lives with Himmel. He often joins her when not working; whenever Dietmar shows up, he retreats, so the two can spend time alone. It breaks Dagmar's heart that they can't resolve their differences, though trying to discuss it with either of them always results in the same: Himmel says he would like to get along with Dietmar yet Dietmar absolutely refuses to cooperate, while Dietmar vehemently opposes any idea of even trying, still insisting that Himmel ("that dirt-poor soldier") is nothing but bad news for her. She tries to comfort herself with the fact that at least Himmel doesn't seem to feel the same way about her brother, and still hopes that someday Dietmar will come around. Himmel, despite his lack of an artistic bent, seems to enjoy watching her sketch and paint, and they still enjoy taking walks and sitting in the little poppy field, which Himmel tells her reminds him of Ypres. (He doesn't talk much about the war, though does share freely when asked; for example he relates one odd experience late in the war when he unexpectedly came face to face with an American soldier, both of them pausing a moment in surprise before Himmel, away from his unit, turned and went running with the American in close pursuit, managing to hide in a trench. As it turns out, he has a much-later, similar run-in with the same soldier in the second war, after which this soldier--going by the codename Camo Rat--relates both experiences to his corporal, Drake, commenting that the first time he'd been so surprised because the German soldier looked so young--"I swear he was hardly more than a kid.") Despite the size of their apartment, they find ways to enjoy themselves there as well, with Dagmar bringing home a radio--a luxury Himmel had never indulged in--and the two of them singing and dancing and laughing at the silliness of it. The activity they enjoy most of all, however, is writing little letters to each other, and leaving them for each other to find whenever they part ways.

Finally, a sign Dagmar has been hoping and waiting for: She misses her period, then another one. At-home pregnancy tests aren't a thing, and it's still rather early to visit a doctor (even there, results are often iffy), so she tries to be patient and wait a bit longer and see if anything changes; indeed, she starts feeling nauseated so Himmel, concerned, brings her ginger tea and saltines from the deli downstairs. She plans to tell him once she's sure of the reason, but never gets the chance; one day while he's at work, she starts cramping terribly, and then bleeding. She knows exactly what it is and so stays at home, curling up in the bed and crying to herself; Himmel finds her like this when he gets home in the evening, and only gradually coaxes the story out of her of what's happened. Despite the cost of it and her insistence that it's not needed, he calls a doctor to come see her; he confirms that a pregnancy was lost, and advises bed rest for a while. Dagmar has no desire to get up or resume any of her projects anyway; Himmel takes a sick leave to look after her, and after returning to work, has the deli owner's wife check in on her while he's away, and spends every moment of his own time with her. When she wonders aloud if something is wrong with her, or if somehow this is her fault, he urges her to not think such things: "Remember what you told me. You're not broken and you're not cursed. Sometimes...things just happen. None of this is your fault." He also cuts her off when she says she understands if she's disappointed him: "You're my light. There's nothing you could ever do to disappoint me."

After several more days, he coaxes her to get up, to leave the apartment with him. She hasn't been out in weeks, and it's clear he's worried. She resists at first, but he keeps at her, reminding her of things that she's told him when his mood was similar; "I'll be there beside you, all the way," he says, and she decides she should at least humor him. They walk to the park and slowly stroll the paths, though Dagmar's heart isn't in it; strangely, when she admits this, Himmel doesn't seem surprised or upset: "It's not something you snap out of, Liebe, no matter how beautiful everything around you." "What does it feel like, then...?" Dagmar asks, and he pauses before replying, "Like you've been drowning, but now you're floating up to the surface of the water. Slow. Hard to breathe. But you make it. If you keep swimming."

Every evening when he returns from work he takes her to the park to walk. And one day, she finally feels it; as they sit looking over the little poppy field, the clouds move in, the sunlight fades, and it starts to sprinkle rain. The other people in the park slowly drift away, seeking shelter, yet Himmel and Dagmar stay seated; she lifts her head to peer up at the clouds, shuts her eyes, feels the raindrops striking her face--they aren't cold, but warm, soothing. She takes a breath and her heart still hurts, but for the first time she doesn't feel like she's drowning. Himmel keeps hold of her while she cries the hardest she has ever since the loss.

After a few more days, she tells him she'd like to try again. He seems worried that she may be moving too fast, says there's no hurry, asks her if she's sure. Dagmar replies she's never been surer: A family is what she's wanted more than anything in her life, and she feels ready again, because of him. Himmel is still cautious and insists that this time they'll maintain contact with a doctor throughout the process, but finally agrees to a second attempt.

Dagmar had never told Dietmar about her first pregnancy, knowing he wouldn't take it well and not wanting to deal with him over it, but it isn't possible to avoid telling him a second time, as she anxiously passes the first few months and then starts to show. When it looks as if this time will be better, she invites him to lunch at a cafe, hoping the public atmosphere will help him hold his tongue. Indeed, he sits silently as she updates him on how things have been going; the look on his face makes it clear he still wishes she and Himmel weren't together, but he doesn't protest or argue. When he just continues to sit silent after she finishes, she fidgets a bit and then blurts out, "I wish you'd talk with me, Dee! Bitte, say something, at least...?" Dietmar hesitates a moment as if trying to think of the best way to put things, then speaks.

Dietmar: *cautiously* "Do you want it...?"

Dagmar: *furrows brow* "What...?"

Dietmar: "Do you want to be rid of it?"

Dagmar: *stunned silent for a moment* "Why would you ask that...?"

Dietmar: "This isn't why you wanted to talk with me...? I do know people, discreet people, who can handle it if you like..."

Dagmar: *firmly* "Dietmar." *pauses; he peers at her* "For the sake of our relationship I'll pretend you never said such a horrid thing. And if you wish to keep speaking with me you'll never think that again. Of course I want it. And I thought that you should know, because this is what family does. Otto and I are family now. Whether you approve or not. It's been long enough and this is something you have to accept. Otherwise I'm not sure what we have left to say to each other."

Dietmar: "Dagmar--" *reaches across the table to clasp her hands, a desperate note in his voice* "I didn't mean to offend. I just...want what's best for you."

Dagmar: "And you think I don't?"

Dietmar: "How are you going to care for it? You live on a floor the size of a postage stamp. He makes nothing! He can hardly provide for you!"

Dagmar: *pulling hands free* "Our apartment is fine. He makes enough. And even if I have to pay, I will. We'll make it work. This is what I've always wanted, Dee, and it kills me that you just can't accept that. I've done everything I can to get through to you, I don't know what you want me to say."

Dietmar: "Dag..." *trails off, lowering head* "I want you to be happy."

Dagmar: "And so do I." *pauses* "Maybe you don't believe it, but I want you to be happy, too. I want you to be part of our lives. That's why I came to talk with you." *long pause; takes his hand & stands* "I have to go now...at least think it over? It'd mean the world to me if the three of us could be friends. Because we already are family. Mach's gut, Dee."

Dietmar: *abruptly seizing her hand back* "Dagmar--" *pauses to gather himself* "If you need anything. Absolutely anything." *pauses* "Not him. But you. No matter what, no matter why. Ask me. I won't keep asking you to leave him. I don't think I can ever be his friend, but for you, anything you want or need. No strings. No obligations. You'll ask...?"

Dagmar's anger softens; it's not entirely what she was hoping for, but it's something. She squeezes her brother's hand back. "I will," she promises. "Mach's gut, Dee," and she leaves.

Himmel asks her how it went when they're together again. "Not nearly as badly as I feared it would," she admits, "Perhaps after the baby is born, he'll come around...?" Himmel looks skeptical, yet holds his tongue.

One evening while they're together at home, Himmel working on some papers, Dagmar contemplates her belly--she's almost due--and murmurs, "Otto, what were your parents' names...?"

Himmel: *absently* "My parents?...my father's name was Kolten...my mother's was Anna Maria."

Dagmar: *pensive* "Anna Maria...?"

Himmel: "Why...?"

Dagmar: *hands on belly* "We haven't even thought of any names yet."

Himmel: "Names...?" *lifts head; gets up & approaches* "What about your parents?"

Dagmar: *murmurs* "Father's name was Dietmar." *smiles ruefully at Himmel's expression* "Hardly seems appropriate."

Himmel: "What about your mother, what was her name...?"

Dagmar: *pauses* "Mother's name was Anna Maria." *peers up at Himmel, who looks stunned* "Seems almost like one of those signs you look for, doesn't it...?" *looks down at her belly again* "So...Kolten, or Anna Maria...I guess we're settled, then."

At last comes the day when it's time to go to hospital; Himmel has no car, so he has the deli owner call a taxi. (Although in pain, Dagmar takes the chance while he's distracted to hastily write a short letter and push it under the bedclothes like the first time.) Once there, he's not allowed in the delivery room, so Dagmar's last view of her husband is of him standing in the hall watching after her, his eyes both worried and hopeful. Then she nearly forgets about him for a while as the labor is especially painful and strenuous; she yells quite a bit as the doctor and nurses encourage her, and finally the pressure lets up and she sucks in a breath--the doctor stands up with a wriggling baby in his arms and smiles at Dagmar, saying, "A lovely boy!" Dagmar smiles back faintly, exhausted but relieved...yet then she starts feeling drowsy and heavy, her head getting foggy. The corners of her vision dim and the air feels thicker so she has to try hard to take in another breath. "Frau Himmel-Kammler...? Frau Himmel-Kammler...!" she dimly hears a nurse calling, her voice seeming far away; "She's bleeding out," the doctor says, and it sounds like her ears are full of water; "We're losing her," then nothing but murmuring. She feels like she's sinking away from the surface, and remembers someone once told her that when she was sinking, to swim; who was that? Another memory of breaking the water's surface, the sad eyes staring down at her, offering a lifeline; that's right, it was Himmel, Heaven, reaching out for her long ago that day in the park.

"Otto," Dagmar whispers, letting out a breath, and her eyes slowly drift shut.

[Dagmar Himmel-Kammler 2023 [‎Friday, ‎June ‎2, ‎2023, ‏‎3:00:31 AM]]

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