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Nikolas Blog Entry |
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October 6, 2023, 2:00:20 AM 10/6/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Inktober: Golden/Free Draw Friday." Drawlloween theme, Oct. 6: "It Lives In The Mountain." ... This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Nikolas (no last name ever given). He's the father of Mirela. Near the story's beginning he's captured and imprisoned while she escapes; they both think the other is dead until she finds him near the story's end, in bad shape but alive. There's already some info about him in Mirela's entry, but there'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se. Regarding his design, I'm not sure if he wears earrings or not, so I didn't give him any. He's quite thin and haggard. TUMBLR EDIT: There's some info regarding Nikolas's (last name never given) character and role in the plot in his daughter Mirela's entry. I just read it for some refreshers; he's a minor character and appears really only at the story's beginning and toward the end, so hasn't been developed much, but here's what I've come up with so far based on Mirela's info. Nikolas and Mirela are Romani, the people known by the Nazis as Zigeuner and colloquially known as Gypsies. Mirela loses her mother young and her father never remarries; he instead devotes all his attention to his daughter, and is rather too protective of her, as if afraid to lose her as well. He's a loving father, though, so although she's occasionally disgruntled by his eagle eye, Mirela tolerates his behavior, knowing he only looks out for her out of concern. The two of them are quite close as they're the only ones in their immediate family unit, in a culture that prides itself on large extended families; Mirela feels guilty more than once that she's not the son her parents surely would've preferred, yet Nikolas always assures her her worries are unfounded: "You're everything your Mutter and I could have ever wanted, meine Maus, don't think for one moment we would have traded you for anything." It's expected that someday she'll be married off to secure a connection to another family, but unlike many others, she isn't engaged at a young age, and Nikolas doesn't pressure her about it: "There'll be plenty of time for us to deal with that later." As it turns out, there isn't plenty of time. The Nazi Party has determined that the Romani are subhuman, and have no right to exist. The Wehrmacht raids the camp where Nikolas and Mirela live, taking many of the adult men alive--they can be used as slave labor in the nearby camp--while outright killing most of the women, children, and elderly they come across. Mirela wants to fight back--but Nikolas knows they're hopelessly outnumbered, and suspects what will happen to Mirela if she's captured alive. So he grabs her arm and does the only thing he can think of: Goes running. "I want you to keep this in mind," he pants when they have a few minutes to rest; "If anything happens to me--shush, little Mir, let me finish--if anything happens, every night, when you put your head down to sleep, I want you to look for the moon, and I want you to know I'm looking at it too. No matter what happens, this'll hold us together, ja...? While your Mutter looks down at us both." Mirela has to fight not to cry. Then has to fight not to get captured, as the German soldiers find them and they go running again. Mirela wants them to stay together, but Nikolas shoves her away from him the moment he realizes he won't be escaping along with her; Mirela stumbles nearly to a halt, turns to run back when a couple of soldiers grab Nikolas, but the panic in his voice--"Run, little Mir, keep running!"--makes her turn and set off again. She doesn't look back--she knows she'll never be able to leave him behind if she looks--plus several more soldiers are already in close pursuit of her. Nikolas sees them all go running off into the dark before he's knocked to the ground and then kicked in the side. "Should've just burned you with the rest of your camp!" his assailant snarls before he's dragged up by his arms and marched away. (He completely misses how Mirela actually ends up rescued, by an American battalion called the Trench Rats.) Nikolas is placed in a military truck crowded with other men, and transported to a different kind of camp. (NOTE there's a potential plot conflict here--he may be shuttled through the camp system for a while before ending up here at last.) He's confused by the sign that assures him work will set him free, especially when one of the other men mutters that this is a lie, he's heard the only way you get out of a camp is through the chimney. That comment REALLY confuses him, until he looks up at the thick black smoke pluming from the chimney stacks and realization hits, what he's truly seeing; he goes pale and starts shaking. Inside the muddy yard, the men are forced into a line and made to step forward, one by one, as a guard casts them a quick glance before yelling, "Right!" or "Left!" and jotting down a note in his book. Nikolas has no idea what any of this means. A guard shoves him forward as he isn't paying attention, the guard with the book looks him up and down and barks, "Right!" and he takes a step to the right, out of the line, but has no idea what to do next. Somebody whistles; he looks at another officer standing off to the side, observing the proceedings; he's smoking a cigarette and has a scar over his eye and a bored look on his face. "Head right and get your assignment, stick," he says, and nods in the direction Nikolas assumes he's meant to go. He's processed into the camp--name jotted down and replaced with a number which is tattooed on his arm, stripped, deloused, sent into a shower, given striped clothes and a black triangle with a Z. A guard points out a barracks building--"That's your home from now on, unless you f**k up, then THAT'S your home," and he points--left. Nikolas looks. There's another building that looks like the showers he just came from. Nikolas isn't sure how...but he knows there's something different about THOSE showers...and now he knows that to be sent left is very bad. He assumes this is the way one leaves the camp--through the chimney. He determines to do his best to never have to set foot anywhere near that part of the camp, and hurries to go get his work assignment. As long as he's useful, he reasons, he'll stay alive, and as long as he's alive, there's a chance he'll find Mirela again. He goes in his assigned barracks building, where somebody exclaims, "Herr Nikolas!" and hurries toward him. It's another man from his camp; they briefly embrace and he says with a dismayed look, "I had really hoped you escaped." He asks what became of Mirela; "Last I saw of her, she was running," Nikolas says; "I have to hope she got away, otherwise, my heart will stop in my chest," and his eyes well up; "I'll pray for her, and for you," the other man says, before someone steps in and yells at everyone to stand in front of their bunks. Someone in prisoner's stripes, yet wearing an armband and wielding a club, strolls down the aisle between them, loudly laying out the rules. "You will wake before sunrise, use the toilets, then line up in the yard. You will wait for roll call and get your daily assignment. You will take your lunch, you will do your work, you will go back to your bunks at dark. You work, you live," he says; "Make yourself useful, you sleep here. Make yourself NOT useful..." He halts, glares at them, and says, "You want to stay useful, trust me. Work sets you free!" He abruptly thwacks at Nikolas's head, making him gasp. "Caps off when you talk to a guard!" he snaps, and the others quickly remove their caps. "Keep yourself useful or you go out the chimney. Where you stand now is where you will sleep tonight. Now back to the yard to get your assignments." "Why does he speak like a guard?--he's one of us," Nikolas whispers, confused, as they exit; another prisoner snorts and mutters, "He's not one of us, he's a kapo. Same difference as a guard, just worse." And indeed, Nikolas quickly learns that the kapos who oversee the work units are not their friends, and often are even more brutish than the guards. He's assigned to a unit that places slabs of stone in carts to be wheeled to a workshop on camp grounds; other days, he helps break bigger slabs into smaller ones for transport, or does the transporting himself, or cleans the barracks or the toilets or the medical facilities. It's a miserable existence, and given the paltry food portions and the alternating sweltering heat and freezing cold of the barracks, he grows thinner and weaker by the day. Every time he catches a glimpse of the moon through the cracks in the barracks roof and walls, however, he dares to feel a tiny twinge of hope. His little Mir is still out there, he has to believe she is. Knowing she could be looking up at the same moon is the only thing that keeps him going. His curiosity is frequently drawn to the workshop he often delivers to. A select group of prisoners works in there, doing what, he's not sure. Another prisoner says they produce craft items for sale. Nikolas is surprised by such news, that certain prisoners don't do heavy labor. It seems like a dream job. His fellow prisoner informs him that a craft job is difficult to secure, yet he can't stop thinking about it. He wonders if he could ever have a hope to work in there. Such thoughts become rather pressing and less conjectural when he pulls a muscle in his shoulder one day and finds that he can't lift the heavy slabs anymore. He does his best trying to conceal his injury, but it's nearly impossible, and when he steals away behind the barracks to rest his throbbing shoulder, a kapo soon finds him. Kapo: "You! Back to work! You rest when you go to sleep!" Nikolas: "Bitte, just a moment, bitte." Kapo: "No moment! You know the rules. You work or you die. You want to keep living? Then get out there and work." Nikolas: "I want to work, I do, but..." Kapo: "Why are you holding your arm like that...?" *suspicious look* "Are you hurt--?" Nikolas: "Something in my shoulder. I want to work, I do, but I don't know if I can." Kapo: "You will if you want to keep living." Nikolas: *stepping toward medical building* "Bitte, I should go to see a doctor--" Kapo: "Nein!" *Nikolas freezes* *under his breath* "You don't want to go to the medical ward." Nikolas: "If I can just have them look at my shoulder..." Kapo: "If they can't fix you up immediately, they'll kill you. They have no time for someone who can't get right back to work. You want to be dead?--because that's what'll happen." Nikolas: *pales* "What do I do...? I can hardly lift anything." Kapo: "You're going to have to. There's nothing else for it." *long pause; Nikolas looks aggrieved* *reluctantly* "Your...your best bet may be the commandant." Nikolas: *confused* "The commandant...?" Kapo: "They say he's a bit like you people. Likes making bargains if it suits him." Nikolas: "Bargains--?" Kapo: "Maybe you can offer him something he can use. And he lets you live a little longer." Nikolas: "What do I offer him?" Kapo: "That's up to you to figure out, Zigeuner. Now you better get back out there, and try to get to work, while you do so." Nikolas returns to his work station. He does his best to keep at it, but the pain is such that he knows he won't be able to do so for long; a night's sleep offers him a small respite, though not much of one. The next day, he drops the slab he's carrying; fortunately, it doesn't break, unfortunately, he can't pick it back up, his shoulder has almost given out. The kapo overseeing his work unit (different guy from yesterday) orders him to get back to work, and when he doesn't, smacks him with his club. And then--"Hey!" The kapo pulls off his cap and snaps to attention. Nikolas follows suit without looking, figuring it's a guard; so he blinks in surprise a few times when he sees who's approaching. The officer with the cigarette and the scar over his eye--Sturmbannführer Konstantin Klaus--stops in front of them, frowning. "You don't hit so hard or they can't work," he says to the kapo; then to Nikolas, "Back to work, stick, or maybe he should hit you harder." Nikolas winces at the throb in his shoulder and the numbness in his arm; Major Klaus notices his look, for he frowns even more and says, "You hurt, stick...? Can't work...?" And his gaze shifts toward the crematoria. Nikolas's heart crowds up into his throat--he suddenly notices the workshop, in the distance behind Klaus--and without thinking first, his old haggling skills pop out. He begs Klaus for a chance in the workshop, touting his carving skills, he's much better carving things than carrying them. The commandant seems unmoved: "No room in the workshop, stick, all the positions filled. If you're hurt, you go to hospital and get patched up and get back to work." Nikolas persists even though by now even the kapo is wincing at his audacity; he figures it can't hurt any more than the alternative. Klaus is strict but he isn't known to be particularly cruel; he doesn't threaten or hit Nikolas though his argument changes: "Only skilled crafters in the workshop, stick! Don't have time to train another of you when there's no room anyway." Shaking with fear by now, Nikolas tries one more time, remembering what the other kapo said--They say he's a bit like you people. Likes making bargains if it suits him--and says what must be the magic words: He doesn't need special training, he's carved trinkets for years, he can carve things for sale, to make money. This time Klaus's curiosity seems vaguely piqued; when Nikolas says he can carve whatever he needs, he looks skeptical, but unbuttons his greatcoat and removes a leather wallet, thumbing through it. As he does so he pulls a few things out to look; Nikolas notices a photograph, a portrait of Klaus in uniform with a woman and two young boys. He snaps back to attention when Klaus holds out a card with an ornate rune printed on it; the commandant shakes the card at him so he gingerly takes it. "This," Klaus says; "carve this, then we see if you're any good. Take it to the workshop, show the man the card, ask for a seat then get to work. You have an hour." Nikolas requests at least two hours; Klaus gets a sour frown and says, "It takes you two hours to carve this, stick, then you're not that skilled." Nikolas says he'd like the extra time to personalize the carving, give it more detail; Klaus just jerks his head at the workshop and says, "Get going, stick," so Nikolas obeys. Nikolas presents himself at the workshop--everyone is diligently at work, many of them sculpting Julleuchter, special SS Yule lanterns (these are a running gag in the story--SS members keep getting gifted them, nobody actually wants them)--shows the guard the rune card, says the commandant has requested a carving; the guard is perplexed, they have no current openings, but clears a space for him, brings him wood and a small carving knife, vows he's going to have a close eye kept on him so not to try anything. Nikolas is nervous--he plans to try something, just not what the guard suspects. He sets to work. Carving the rune is nothing--he wasn't exaggerating when he claimed he's skilled at carving, he made decent money in his old life crafting wooden trinkets to sell to gadje, and got good at doing a quick job. He finishes a simple but decent rune in no time. Then picks up another piece of wood and surreptitiously sets to work on a second project. The guard occasionally passing by says nothing about his second project, perhaps assuming Klaus requested it; "Fifteen minutes, Zigeuner," he does warn, so Nikolas hurries to put on the finishing touches. He cleans up his space when the guard returns and tells him his time is up, returns the knife, is escorted back out with his carvings in hand. Klaus is nearby, arms crossed, waiting; "Well, stick?--let's see what you got," he says, and Nikolas holds out the rune carving. Klaus looks it over; "Not bad," he muses, though doesn't appear overly impressed. Then Nikolas swallows hard and holds out the second item he carved; "What's this--?" Klaus asks with a frown, before getting a decent look at it. It's a simple carved portrait: A man in uniform, a woman, two boys. Although simplified and stylized, it's obvious that it's the Klauses, as Nikolas even included a little scar over the man's eye. Klaus's eyes go wide, he blinks, then he swallows; for a brief moment he looks almost ready to cry. He then shakes it off, frowns at Nikolas, demands, "How'd you make this--? Huh, stick--? Answer," and Nikolas explains how he saw the photograph of Klaus's family. "I can make more carvings," he says quickly, "whatever carvings anyone likes! Carvings to sell. I can make a simple one in an hour, a better one in two, I can work from sunup to sundown. All I need is wood and a knife and a picture, I can do it and make money for you." The whole time he talks--begs, really--he can see the look on Klaus's face shift. The commandant looks skeptical yet torn; "Workshop is full, stick," he insists, "who do I kick out to make room for you?" but Nikolas can tell that the words sell and money got through to him and he's wavering. "I take only a small space, just a small space," Nikolas pleads, "I don't even need a work station. I can sit on the floor if you need me to. You don't need to kick out anyone. Keep all the workers, don't lose a space, I'll find a spot, it's not a tradeoff, it's a bonus. Let me prove it, give me a week," he adds, "and you'll see, you'll make some money, you can charge whatever you want. I used to make good money off gadje." And at last, Klaus gives in; he orders the workshop guard to clear a corner space for Nikolas, tells him to work on some more rune carvings for now, and he'll bring him a job soon to see how he does--"You better not be sh*tting me, stick, or back to the yard for you." The spot Nikolas finds himself in is in a back corner near a grimy old window; it's dirty and dusty and chilly, and he shivers so hard he nearly cuts himself, but he has a bit of natural light, which is nice, and he makes a handful of rune carvings before it's time to retire for the day. Best of all, he gets to rest his aching shoulder. The next day when he arrives at the workshop, Klaus greets him with a photo, a portrait of a rather rotund officer he doesn't recognize. "Your first job, stick, do it right," he warns, and Nikolas sets to work. He's conflicted about whether he should stay true to the photo, or slim the man down some; he knows the Nazis pride themselves on their general fitness. At the last moment he decides to carve the portrait as he sees it. The guard carries it away. Nikolas nervously makes more runes. Some time later Klaus arrives. "Well, stick," he muses, looking perplexed, "my Kamerad adores his carving, says it really captures his essence or some sh*t. He's telling some friends. Expect you'll have a busy day tomorrow." Nikolas is put to work carving sets of sig rune and Lebensrunen knickknacks until Klaus can bring him more portraits to carve. The workshop guard admires the sig runes and he and several of his fellows put in orders with Klaus. The work starts flowing. Nikolas can hardly whittle fast enough, but he does. The items he has to carve, frankly, turn his stomach--he despises that he's basically creating propaganda to help fund the SS--but a living is a living, he reasons--anything that keeps him alive a little bit longer, in hopes of seeing Mirela again. Nikolas passes much of the story like this, presumably. Klaus gets the idea that a handful of Nikolases is better than one, so selects several particularly skilled craftsmen to observe and learn from him, and Nikolas willingly teaches them his craft, so the workshop can put out a higher number of carved items for profit. He keeps a few secrets to himself, however...that's just the way...and his own works remain the most sought after of those produced in the camp, ensuring his survival as long as there's demand for them. He carves runes, portraits, SS insignia, decorative containers, völkisch figurines and doodads to display on shelves, SS altar statuettes, whatever is requested, he carves it--he suffers numerous cuts, his hands ache and cramp, his back hurts and his eyes sting from hunching over his dusty projects, but he doesn't complain. Nobody seems to care once they find out a Zigeuner is the one doing the work; if anything, they find it to be a novelty, to purchase such fine crafts from a subhuman. As the story goes on, however, and the tide of war starts to turn, ironically the approach of the Allies proves to initially be bad news for the camp inmates. As the situation grows more dire and the Germans suffer heavier losses, there is of course much less request for novelty items, and resources need to be conserved for the war effort. Not only does the workshop eventually close, the craftsmen being sent back to hard labor in the yard, but the population of Klaus's camp starts to swell and as living space becomes scarce, food runs low as well while disease starts to spread. Klaus's main interest is in keeping his prisoners alive--not out of any concern for them, but to provide slave labor for the Reich--but this gets increasingly difficult as conditions deteriorate, and he even struggles to get SS headquarters to respond to his requests for aid. The results of this are mixed for prisoners such as Nikolas: On the one hand, the strict order and emphasis on hard labor is slackened, so the guards don't even bother meting out punishments most of the time, and Nikolas no longer has to do anything that strains his shoulder too much; on the other hand, hunger and illness run rampant, the facilities are no longer maintained, and overcrowding becomes a problem as the trains keep coming yet nobody is transported elsewhere anymore. The crematoria run day and night--prisoners start dying on their own, without the need for so much intercession by the SS. Nikolas finds himself fighting to stay alive in a completely different manner. He can't strike bargains with bacteria, however; and eventually he develops a bad cough and his feet start to not look so good. He wraps the latter in what rags he can find, but it becomes excruciating to walk as the obvious infection spreads, and he spends much of his time huddled shivering in the yard or on his bunk, coughing up blood and peering up at the moon when it's visible. It's been so dreadfully long since he last saw his Mirela, and he's never had any word of her, so he finds his hope at last waning. He feels intense shame over this...but he's just so sick, and tired of holding on. He wonders now and then, in vague states of delirium, if perhaps his little Mir has been waiting for him on the other side all along...and maybe he's meant to join her there. Once or twice he even thinks he sees her wandering among the crowding prisoners in the yard, and he drags himself outside to look for her, yet she's never there. At last it becomes too difficult to go back inside--the prisoners who are still strong enough to stand fight among themselves for access to a dry bunk to sleep on, and Nikolas knows he'd never stand a chance keeping hold of his--so he pulls his tattered clothes around himself and sits in the mud, trying to take slow deep breaths and rest himself for whatever comes next. Klaus remains in his camp, though most of his guards desert, and almost all order breaks down as word reaches them that the Allies have entered the city and are on their way to liberate the camp. Nikolas doesn't even feel any hope but that whatever comes next, it gets over with fast. He watches wide eyed, shivering, and sweating one day, as some of the prisoners revolt and turn on the commandant, a kapo smashing his knee with his club; instantly crippled, Klaus cries out and topples where he stands, then disappears from view in a hail of kicks and blows. His demise seems ensured until other people start pouring into the camp and pull the infuriated prisoners back. They're wearing uniforms, but they aren't the dreaded Red Army which was expected; they're speaking English. They manage to drag the half-conscious Klaus away to safety while the prisoners yell to leave him, they'll save them the trouble and kill him themselves: "He can leave through the chimney! It's good enough for us, it's good enough for him!" Once, Nikolas might have felt a twinge of compassion--Klaus is an awful person, yes, but he was never exceptionally cruel, and Nikolas feels he owes his life to him--yet by now all he feels is numb. He hardly pays attention to the American and British troops as they take over the camp and peruse the sorry state of affairs; it's a vast complex, full to the gills, and they don't have the resources yet to evacuate everyone, so Nikolas and those similarly poorly off just remain where they are for now. One soldier does pass him a canteen, and he sips some water and whispers, "Danke sehr," before breaking down coughing again. He looks up toward the fence, so near yet so far, now and then, at the prisoners milling around in front of it and the troops wandering outside, then blinks, confused. A young woman is walking past, peering into the camp, an aggrieved look in her eyes. He could swear it's Mirela. It looks just like her. "Mir...?" he whispers; he rubs his eyes, blinks, squints. She keeps walking along the fence. He desperately tries to keep her in view, sure that once he loses sight of her, even for a second, she'll vanish--maybe this is her ghost calling to him--yet she remains in view, craning her neck and looking around. She resumes walking and is about to disappear past a group of prisoners when Nikolas, panicked, says aloud, "Mir--?" then starts yelling as loudly as he can: "Mir! MIR! Mirela! My little Mir--!" He expects Mirela's ghost to keep on walking--yet she abruptly stops, eyes going wide, and turns in his direction. He sees her mouth form the word Papa? "Mir!!" he yells again, before he loses his voice and starts violently coughing. But her eyes finally fix on his and she shouts back, "Papa--?" It's not a ghost, it's really his little Mir. She's come back to him at last. Nikolas's and Mirela's reunion is outlined HERE. The Trench Rats, mingled among the Allied troops attempting to evacuate the camp, bring a stretcher to carry Nikolas out as he can't walk; Mirela stays by his side the entire time, eyes full of tears, as he strokes her hair and murmurs, "Meine Maus, my little Mir. Herr Gott brought you back, everything is well now." In the medical ward at Trench Rat Headquarters, things are not so well. A doctor introduces himself, listens to Nikolas's breathing, his cough, asks how long he's had it, murmurs something about "TB" to another Rat who leaves to fetch a test. He examines Nikolas's feet and asks if they hurt; "They used to, but it's not so bad now, I can hardly feel them," Nikolas says, noticing the looks the doctor and Mirela get. The doctor talks a little with the other Rat when he returns; obviously choosing his words carefully, he tells Nikolas that they might not be able to save his legs, but they'll do what they can. Mirela is devastated by this news, but Nikolas simply takes her face in his hands and says, "My legs, I can live without; but I can't live without you." He reassures her he'll be fine no matter what happens as long as they stay together. He's sedated as surgical equipment is wheeled in and slowly drifts off. When he wakes, Mirela is still there, clasping his hand, her eyes wet. Nikolas's right foot is bandaged; his left foot...is no longer there; the bandages end just below his knee. He has to swallow hard and take a few breaths, blinking away the tears; yet he manages to smile at the distressed Mirela, stroking her face again: "It's not so bad," he murmurs when she says she's sorry. "I've lived through so much worse, I'll live through this. Now that Herr Gott's brought you back. We'll be all right, I know we will, I feel it in my heart." He thanks LC Amaranth, the intern who managed to save his right foot, as Amaranth seems rather despondent about not being able to salvage his left foot, which the surgeon, Burgundy, had to remove. They start him on an experimental antibiotic to try to treat the tuberculosis; although he never completely gets rid of his cough, his health does improve, and he asks for a knife and wood. As he recuperates he busies himself making little carvings for the others in the medical ward; he gives Burgundy a small figurine of St. Luke as thanks for his treatment. Another Trench Rat, wearing a sergeant's stripes, often stops by to check on him and Mirela. Neither one of them ever says anything about it...but Nikolas notices the glances Mirela casts him, especially when he's not looking. He doesn't cast surreptitious looks back at her, but the way he always makes sure to stop by and check on them also catches Nikolas's attention. "Little Mir," he says to her quietly one day, "you and this sergeant...is there something between you two...?" Mirela vehemently denies any such thing...but the way her face goes bright red tells him differently. Nikolas: "You've always been an awful liar, meine Maus..." Mirela: *eyes downcast* "I mean it, Papa. There's nothing. I've done nothing, he's done nothing." Nikolas: "Why then when you answer can you not look at me...?" *Mirela winces* "All right...you say you've done nothing, I believe you. Yet still. The way you keep peeking. You feel something for him...?" Mirela: *silence* Nikolas: "I'm not upset with you, little Mir. Just, you've never kept secrets from me before." Mirela: "It's nothing." Nikolas: "It does not look like nothing." Mirela: "Even if it were something...it doesn't matter. He's gadjo, not one of us." Nikolas: "Not one of us...? Meine Maus, you really think such a thing matters much anymore...? When they've killed most of us? I do not even know if the rest of our clan is still alive or not. If you feel for him, if he feels for you, this is what matters, ja?" Mirela: "That's just it, though...I don't think he does feel anything. He never says anything." Nikolas: "Have you asked him?" Mirela: "Nein, but..." Nikolas: *throwing up arms, exasperated tone* "Mir!" Mirela: "Papa--" Nikolas: "Mir, he's a man. You don't just assume a man feels nothing because he says nothing. We're terrible at such things. You ask!" Although embarrassed, Mirela does so. And Nikolas is right; Sgt. Gold has had feelings for Mirela for quite a while, yet assumed she didn't feel the same. As the war finally ends and Nikolas is at last strong enough to walk again--albeit with a crutch now--the Rats work to get families back together and settled into homes. Nikolas chafes at the thought of staying in one place--that's never been the life he knows--yet things have changed so much, he's not sure they can return to their old life. "It's not the same without the clan," he murmurs wistfully to Mirela. When Gold comes to him to ask for Mirela's hand, he gives his blessing, but wonders what this will mean for the three of them; "Mir and I, Germany is our home," he says, "and America is yours...what is to be done?" Gold seems a little confused before saying, "I think there's been a misunderstanding...I plan to stay here, at least, for now." He explains that he's volunteered to remain in the country for the time being, helping the remaining Rats with their duties; "I could never ask Mirela to leave her home, or to leave you." What's more, his job will be pretty fluid, so he's likely to move around quite a bit. He has every intention of keeping Nikolas an active part of their life; he suggests that they can even help him with translating and understanding customs as he deals with the locals. Nikolas perks up at this--it's not the same as his old life, but it's something, and it's better than being stuck in the same house all the time. What strikes him most of all, though, is the fact that Gold took Mirela's preferences into account before deciding on his work...and the look in Mirela's eyes when Gold glances at her. Her mother once looked at him like that. He knows she's made the right choice, and everything will be fine. [Nikolas 2023 [Friday, October 6, 2023, 2:00:20 AM]] |