|
Hans von NN Blog Entry |
|
February 23, 2024, 12:00:13 AM February 10, 2025, 12:25:03 AM 2/23/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Hans von NN (last name is never fully given, so I've gone with "NN"). He's the toddler son of Adel von NN, AKA Ratdog. He's deceased by the time of the main story but his death has major repercussions for not just Ratdog but pretty much everyone he comes into contact with. There'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se. Regarding his design, similar to Leopoldine Jäger, I increased the proportions of his eyes and ears (this time by 5%, I think, or maybe 10?--can't remember), but also shortened and thickened his muzzle, and thickened his neck, to make him more childlike and chubby (I think he's a little over two when he dies). I got the idea to give him an ear nick like his father's to illustrate Ratdog's utter ineptitude as a single father at first, though he really tries. TUMBLR EDIT: Hans von NN (to differentiate him from Hans von Adel, Ratdog/Adel's grandson who's named after him) never appears in the main story aside from in flashback, but his presence--or rather, his absence--profoundly affects and drives much of the plot. Primarily, Ratdog himself would likely not be part of the story, if he hadn't died. Ratdog's entire existence afterward is consumed by his death, at least, until he meets PFC Klemper, and then has something else to focus his life on. (Udo Eisen is another character whose fate appears inextricably linked to Hans; I strongly suspect this is the incident that most heavily drives his final decision. See his entry for details.) Hans was not meant to be born. He's the result of a drunken one-night stand between Adel--secretly, a former duke who's abandoned his family background and property and taken up residence in a hand-built forest cottage, practically a hermit--and a random woman he met in a bar in the city, where he occasionally goes to try to forget it all. Adel didn't part ways with his family line so easily (see Edelgard's entry), but he's the last of his name (which is never given in the story, thus the genealogy term "NN," only known that it starts with von and is a very rare name), and he wants nothing more to do with his past. He quickly picks up a drinking habit to deal with the memories and the crushing loneliness. He can sit at home alone and drink, or travel to the nearest city (and it's quite a trip, not easily made in this time period as Adel has no vehicle), drink, find a willing companion, and spend the night with them as a temporary distraction. He has the money to do all this, he enjoys the company of both women and men, he's not choosy. So he picks up a promiscuity habit as well. It's a little harder to scratch this itch given the distances involved, but he manages. It's either wander around the woods hunting with his rifle and maintain his cottage and get lost in his dark thoughts, or get plastered and get laid and go blank for a while...Adel alternates between the two, seeing little other point to life. One evening he hears a knock at his door. This is odd enough--all his neighbors are like him, isolated, distant, uninterested in social contact unless it's to trade. Adel usually goes to them first if he contacts them at all. Even weirder is that, when he cracks the door open and peers out, there's no one there. He frowns and opens the door further, only for it to bump against something. Looking down, he sees a crate with blankets bundled in it. Puzzled, he pokes at it, then practically jumps out of his skin when it moves and makes a noise. When it keeps doing this, he finally, gingerly pulls aside the blankets and finds a newborn infant staring back up at him, softly gurgling and blinking its big aqua eyes. Adel stares at it, stunned mute, for a moment before he notices a note pinned to the blanket. He pulls it off and opens it. There are only two words: "DEIN SOHN." Your son. Instantly, Adel's empty but vaguely comfortable life is turned upside down. He cycles rapidly through a hundred emotions. Shock. Disbelief--how does he know this is his kid? Doubt and uncertainty--he racks his brain trying to do the math and determine who the mother could be. The baby's eyes, brighter and bluer than his own, do remind him of the eyes of a woman he passed a night with, though it's all so foggy. He eventually figures it must be his kid, because why else would it be here? Then comes even more confusion, and anger--what sort of woman abandons her kid? Then realization--it's HIS kid, too. What kind of father is he if he abandons it? Then more realization: He's a father now. Then, panic--HE HAS NO IDEA HOW TO CARE FOR A KID. Adel brings the crate in, he's no monster, but then paces around in front of the baby, gnawing his fingers in distress as he racks his brain again trying to figure out what to do. He's coming off of a hangover, and isn't that good at racking his brain in the first place (Adel/Ratdog can be...rather stupid, a lot of the time), so he doesn't get too far. When the baby wriggles and starts whimpering, he almost panics again; not knowing what else to do, he picks it up, but has no idea how to properly hold a baby, and doesn't support its head, so it starts whimpering louder. He sets it down on his bed, which seems to settle its own distress a bit, but it still won't stop whimpering. Adel paces a bit more, growing more and more anxious, then does what any new father would do: He grabs his rifle, slings it over his shoulder, and leaves. He makes the long trek to a neighbor's house. She's a woman, so he figures she will know what to do with a baby. When she finally, reluctantly cracks open her door, he overwhelms her for a moment babbling incoherently about babies and WTF do you do with them. Takes a few minutes to first get him to enunciate clearly and then to figure out why is he asking her all this?--she blinks when he says he has a baby, asks well where is it then, then blinks again and practically screams, "You left it ALONE--?" when he says it's back at his house. She hurries to rouse the house's other occupant--an elderly woman dozing in a chair--fills her in, and the old woman hobbles around packing some things before returning and saying she's ready to go. Adel asks why she's coming along. (Told you he's not that smart.) The younger woman shakes a fist at him: "I never had kids! What makes you think every woman just knows babies? Oma's had children. She'll know what to do. I can tell you one thing, though--you don't just f**king leave a kid alone!" Chastened, Adel leads them back to his cottage. The baby is right where he left it, wriggling and whimpering in the middle of the bed. The old woman sets to work. First she changes it--"Aw, a little boy," she coos when it squirts right in her face, making Adel grimace in disgust (and get a cuff from the younger woman in return)--then requests to use the stove to prepare it a bottle. She shows Adel how to hold it--supporting its head--and tells him to do that until it's ready to be fed. Adel stands there awkwardly holding the squirming infant, too petrified to do anything else. The old woman heats some milk she brought (these guys live in the middle of nowhere in the Thirties, they're dirt poor, the country's financial situation isn't that great, I assume they don't have fancy-schmancy formula) and shows Adel how to properly hold the baby while feeding, then how to burp it afterward. To his immense relief, it finally stops whimpering and wiggling so much, and starts yawning and blinking. Adel turns to the bed, but she says not to let it sleep in the bed with him ("Why not?"--"You might roll over on him in your sleep"); she prepares a bed for it in the crate it came in, saying he'll need to procure a crib or cradle afterward, and tells him not to tuck the blankets back in with it ("Why not?--it gets freezing here, how do I keep it warm?"--"He could suffocate on a loose blanket, I'll show you how to wrap him up nice and tight so he stays warm"); and she reiterates the other woman's comment that he can't leave it alone again, if he leaves the cottage, he must bring the baby with him ("How am I supposed to hunt?--who brings a baby along hunting??"--"You're the father, you'll figure it out"). He grows distressed again when the women prepare to leave--"You won't stay--?" he pleads, "How do I do this on my own?" To which the younger woman retorts, "Like Oma just said--you're the father, you take responsibility now. You're a grown man! Get yourself out of your own mess." Oma's reply is more gentle: "You'll learn. Do your best. I'll bring you some more milk and cloths until you get on your feet. You'll be fine." Before they can go out the door, though, she pauses and says, "So...have you a name for him, yet?" Adel: *blinks* "Name--?" Woman: *annoyed* "Ja, a name! What else?" Oma: "Hush, Liebe." *to Adel* "Every child must have a name, ja?" Adel: "...I hadn't thought of one." Oma: "Surely you have something in mind...?" Adel: "Nothing. I never wanted kids." Woman: "I guess that's not a choice anymore, is it?" Oma: "Many people take names from others in their family." Adel: "I have no family." Oma: *amused* "Well, you had family once, surely--? You weren't an Immaculate Conception? An uncle, a grandfather, someone. Maybe you can find a name there...? You have some time to think about it. But every child needs a name. Come, Liebe. Gute Nacht, Herr Adel, Gute Nacht, sweet little boy. I'll bring by some things tomorrow." Adel is left on his own, well, with the baby. Sits and stares at it dozing in the crate. Dozes off himself. Snaps awake when it starts crying, panics, unwraps and looks it over, changes it, warms some more milk and feeds it, only for it to spit up on him--he lets out a startled yell and nearly drops it, grimacing and exclaiming, "Why did you do that--?" so sharply that it starts crying again. Sets it in the crate, quickly washes himself off, and heads for the door, stops himself, stands there a bewildered moment, reluctantly heads back. He has a brief memory of his sister, Edelgard. She was older than he was...yet something wasn't right in her head. For much of her childhood, she acted a lot like an unruly infant, screaming and incoherent, never able to enunciate what was wrong. He'd never once lost his temper with her. He stares at the squalling baby a moment before steeling himself and picking it back up. It refuses the bottle, so he tries burping it. It lets out a small hiccup and its crying abates, then it dozes off again. Adel sits there holding it, afraid to put it down again; he falls asleep in the chair. The next day Oma returns with powdered milk she fetched from another neighbor--Adel has no decent way to store milk for long, so this should be easier--and clean cloths for diapers. She offers him more advice and instructions on what to expect; noticing his anxiety, she assures him he's doing his best: "You don't have to worry about loving him too much. It's when you don't love enough that you should worry." Adel replies, "Sometimes love isn't enough." Oma clucks her tongue and says, "It'll have to be...what else do you have?" After she departs again, he stares at the baby for a long while as it stares back. Late at night, long after it's fallen asleep, he settles on a name. He refuses to give it his father's name, remembering how his life ended. He never knew his grandfather. His grandfather was named Johannes. Adel decides to name his son not Johannes, but simply Hans. The moment he decides this, something in his mind clicks, and the baby is no longer an it, it's a he. Then he has to take a breath--something in his heart clicks, too. He doesn't understand it. He's never had a paternal bone in his body. He expected--planned on--the family line dying out with him. Now, though, his only thought is that he would rather die than let any harm befall Hans. This isn't to say things are immediately perfect, or that Adel is suddenly the perfect father. Anything but. When he's content, Hans is a sweet, well-behaved baby; yet when he's upset, he cries and cries, and Adel often can't figure out what's wrong. He gets frustrated when change-bottle-burp doesn't bring an instant solution, and demands of Oma, "How do I shut him up??" "You don't shut him up," Oma scolds, "you figure out what's wrong, or you let him cry himself out." Sometimes, babies just cry, because even they don't know what they want. He just has to deal with it. He gets angry one especially bad night, digs out a bottle, and starts drinking. Yet Hans just cries louder. Adel stands over the new cradle he's fashioned and clenches his glass. "Bitte! What do you want? What do you want me to do??" he yells; once more he tries the routine, change-bottle-burp, back to bed, yet Hans just keeps crying, and Adel finally loses it, screaming at his ceiling along with Hans, throwing his glass across the room so it shatters. The pitch of Hans's crying abruptly changes, getting shrill--Adel glances back down and is alarmed to see blood pooling around Hans's head. He hurries to pick the baby up and look him over--almost immediately, the cause becomes obvious, a shard of glass bounced back and cut Hans's ear, it's not a serious injury, just a messy--and painful--one. Still. Adel is overwhelmed by shame. He picks Hans up and embraces him, sobbing, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" He hastens to bring Hans to the sink, washes the cut, applies a salve, tries bandaging it--the bandages fall off when Hans wriggles, but by now his squalling has abated, he's just whimpering a little bit, and the bleeding has stopped. Adel stops fussing and stares down at Hans with his big wet eyes and his quivering lip and the nick in his ear. He lets out a shaky breath--"You look like me," he murmurs, and gives a watery smile. Hans sniffles, and smiles back. Adel's frustration dissipates and his heart melts. Soon enough, he has to go out hunting for food; he looks fretfully at Hans, knowing he can't leave him, yet not knowing what else to do. He ponders carrying the infant, but how?--he needs his arms free, for his gun and his kill. He thinks of a backpack, or a sling. Starts improvising, whittling and assembling a wooden frame, attaching securing straps and swaddling clothes within, frowning at the sounds Hans makes when he first places him in it--"How do I hunt with you making noise?"--then tries wrapping him more snugly, as Oma had. Hans quiets down. Adel lifts the device, slips it over his back and secures it with the straps, effectively fashioning a rough cradleboard. Still worried about the little noises Hans is making, he retrieves his gun and ammunition and heads out. Before he can spot any prey, he realizes that Hans has fallen completely silent; "Hans?--Hans--?" he asks, his anxiety growing, and he stops, lowers his gun, slips off the cradleboard. He blinks in surprise to find that Hans is merely sleeping--the motion of Adel's walking lulled him to sleep. Adel carefully replaces the cradleboard and resumes hunting. Of course the gunshot wakes Hans, but he just whines a little before dozing off again. The trip goes pretty uneventfully. Adel changes Hans when he gets home, feeds him, burps him, puts him in the cradle; he rocks it with his foot as he makes and eats his own meal. Hans coos, dozes. Whenever he gets fussy, and change-bottle-burp doesn't work, Adel starts walking around gently bouncing him, mimicking the motion of the cradleboard on his back, and Hans falls asleep. When Hans sleeps, Adel occupies himself carving animal figurines; he assumes babies like toys, he's just not sure what kind. Hans likes to hold the figurines and puts one in his mouth; Adel moves to stop him, figures the toy is big enough that it does no harm, sits back and lets him. He braids a grass rope for Hans to gnaw on and wave around. Constructs a mobile with pinecones, feathers, pebbles, bones, whatever interesting-looking things he finds in the woods, and hangs it over the cradle. Trades with a neighbor for a quartz crystal which he hangs in the window to flash little prisms across the walls. Although he can't hold the rainbows, Hans seems to like this the most, waving his hands at the air, squealing and giggling, and Adel smiles watching him. One day when Adel gives a toy to Hans, he jerks his hand back--"Ow!" He frowns--"You bit me...?" He carefully checks Hans's mouth and spies his first teeth breaking through. Over the next few days Hans gets fussier and whinier; Adel has heard that teething can hurt, sees that Hans keeps chewing on things, carves him a ring to gnaw on, which seems to soothe him a little. On Oma's advice he starts mashing up soft food to feed Hans. Without even noticing, Adel steps up, and grows into the role of doting father; at first he'd resented the responsibilities, the sudden disruption to his routine of drinking, whoring around, and sulking alone, but now he hardly even thinks about these things. He finds that caring for someone else, loving them, gives him the sense of purpose he previously lacked. Hans is his whole world, and despite his frequent mistakes (Hans often gets bumped and bruised from easily avoidable accidents) and occasional setbacks, he wouldn't change this life for a thing. Hans toddles across the floor one day, into Adel's outstretched arms. He says his first word: "Vogel," waving his arms at one of Adel's figurines hanging from a mobile. He starts mimicking words, though when Adel takes him hunting--now in a harness strapped to his back so Hans can watch over his shoulder--he's always quiet, as if he knows he should be. As his legs get stronger and steadier Adel takes him off his back and holds his hand as they walk together, Hans ooh'ing and ahh'ing at every interesting new thing he sees. He sits in the chair Adel made for him and babbles to himself while his father prepares food or tends to the house. He claps and giggles when Adel plays with his toys in front of him. At night Adel tucks him in the small cot he's set up beside his own bed--Hans has outgrown his cradle--and when Adel murmurs, "Gute Nacht, Hans, Schlaf gut," Hans echoes, "Schlaf gut, Papa." Adel built his stone cottage deep in the woods, far from anyone else, the best to be alone; although he occasionally trades with distant neighbors, poorer Germans (and a few Poles who have migrated across the border) whose families have long subsisted on farming and hunting, for the most part he relies on himself. He's an expert marksman, he can use his hands, he can look after himself. A wide dirt road passes through the woods not too far from his house; he sometimes uses skis to travel it in the winter when the snow is often too deep and difficult to traverse between the trees, though aside from that, he usually avoids it. Most other locals avoid it as well, which means its main travelers are outsiders, those just passing through. They know the reputation of Adel and the other wood folk, to make their point more often with a gun than with words, and so let them be, passing through quickly when no other routes are available, though more often, they simply abstain from using the forest road as well. This means that weeks, occasionally even months, can easily pass without seeing anyone on the road, aside from a few workers sent by the state to maintain it--they trim the few branches or tufts of grass that threaten to overgrow it, fill the potholes, remove fallen debris, before hurrying out of there. As time goes on, the road acquires a second use, that for troops passing through on their way to the front or to their next mission, for Germany is now at war. Both the Wehrmacht and the Waffen-SS know the road's reputation--it's become almost a matter of superstition by now--and know not to mess with the Waldvolk. Adel's cottage is the most visible marker of civilization in the woods and even it requires a detour into the bush to find it, not that they have any reason to interact with him. Officials from the Heer never even bother visiting him regarding compulsory military service, knowing they'll be shot dead for their efforts. No one really knows much about him, aside from his first name, the fact that he's not the same as the poor folk who have lived there for generations--he moved in later--and his skill with a rifle. And no one really wants to know more. Troops cease their marching and singing when they reach this section of the isolated road, furtively pass through, and resume only once they come out the other side. On one especially bright, sunny day, Adel takes Hans's hand and heads into the woods. Hans skips and bumbles cheerily, jumping in a puddle when Adel lets him go, sticking his fingers in a patch of moss, trying to catch a butterfly: "Vogel!" he exclaims, making Adel laugh to himself and say, "Nein, Hans, Schmetterling." "Stay close, Hans," he instructs as he loads his gun, "close enough so you can hear my voice, ja?--and don't wander in front of me, ja?" to which Hans replies, "Ja, Papa," and stomps in the mud. He's always been well behaved, follows instructions, and knows both the dangers of a gun and of the forest; Adel knows he won't wander into his line of fire, won't eat anything poisonous, won't antagonize any woodland creature he may encounter. He's taught Hans the best he's able, so he's not too worried. The woods may frighten others, but they're no threat to Hans. Hans meanders around in the trees, humming to himself, peering up into the leaves, collecting twigs, dropping them, collecting more. Admires a colorful mushroom but doesn't touch. Stands still as a snake glides by. Calls back, "Ja, Papa!" every time he hears his father call, "Can you still hear me, Hans...?" Adel's taught him well. He tries walking on a log, tumbles, sniffles and tears up at his skinned knee, then promptly forgets it. He's spotted something through the undergrowth, and, curious, he goes to investigate. He parts some grass and finds himself staring at the great forest road. Adel never taught him about this. As if on cue, Adel's voice from afar: "Hear me, Hans?" "Ja, Papa!" Hans calls back--and decides that it must be safe, because he can still hear his father's voice, and if it were dangerous, surely Adel would have warned him. He tentatively toes the road, finds it solid, steps out in it. Looks up into the overarching branches in awe, that even a path as wide as a river can't part the trees enough to open up to the sky. Amuses himself kicking pebbles and scuffing his toes in the reddish dirt. Gasps when something flits past--"Schmetterling!"--and chases after it. The butterfly eludes his grasp, but his attention is distracted anyway--somewhere, far off, comes an odd sound, a sputtering buzzing sound, like a large bumblebee. Hans stops in the middle of the road, listening and watching--he knows bumblebees are harmless if you look and don't touch--and waits to see if he can get a look at it, for surely, based on how loud it's getting, it must be the world's biggest bumblebee, and who wouldn't want to see that? This stretch of the road is different from much of the rest--arching in a curve cut around the hard bedrock beneath Adel's property, from which he took the material for his house, whereas most of the road was simply cut straight through the forest. I. e., a blind curve. Hans stands and waits in growing anticipation for the maker of the sputtery buzzing noise to appear, so he can tell his father what he's seen, a huge bee, the biggest bumblebee ever. He hears another noise just as the buzzing grows especially raucous--voices, yelling at each other. Hans blinks, finally feels a twinge of uncertainty, draws in on himself a bit--just as the noise bursts from around the turn. He has no idea what it is he's looking at. Maybe it's a bumblebee--it has a big sleek shiny black body, and it's carrying something on its side the way a bumblebee carries pollen on its legs, and it even has big shiny eyes--one big one in front, and then four more, turning abruptly to look straight at him, but oddly, they look like people's eyes behind the shiny eyes. They go wide before one of the voices yells, "A kid! Let go, let go!" and the giant black bumblebee jerks to the side, then back--the voice screams, "Move!--Move--!"--and its pitch is exactly the same as one time when Hans nearly had a bad fall and Adel yelled out for him, so he knows it's bad, he turns to run like the bee told him to, but the buzzing catches up with him and Hans has only enough time to let out one short cry before Adel hears the distant buzzing sputtering sound after Hans does, being further away and in among the trees. He recognizes the sound of a motorcycle. Immediately, alarm floods him--he's never seen a motorcycle out here--he never had any reason to tell Hans about them. He then realizes he's never told Hans about the forest road, either. "Hans--?" he yells, but already the motorcycle noises are much louder, he's not sure he can be heard over them, so, "Hans!" he shouts as loud as he can, only to hear someone else yelling, and then a short scream, and the motorcycle sound passes by and Adel's running as fast as his feet can carry him, screaming, "Hans! Hans!" until he stumbles out of the undergrowth and into the road. Gasping for breath, he glances right--no motorcycle--then left--and sees Hans. Blood pooling around his head. Past the curve, the motorcycle judders and skids to a halt. It's being driven by a Wehrmacht sergeant named Udo Eisen. Its owner, however, and Sergeant Eisen's boss, is General Schavitz. They've been arguing, Schavitz demanding that Eisen speed up, Eisen insisting it's too dangerous on this particular stretch of road. Eisen has already forgotten the argument, the only thing filling his mind those big aqua eyes, that little mouth opening in an O, the sickening THUD of the sidecar striking a soft surface. "Where are you going--? Where are you going--? Get back here--!!" Schavitz bellows, his voice growing more and more strident, his eye more and more enraged, yet Eisen ignores him even though he knows he'll regret it later, turning the motorcycle off, dismounting and running back in the direction he'd come from. He falters and stops when a horrendous, bloodcurdling wail fills the air. His insides clench and his lungs empty. The woods fill with the most heartrending sound he's ever heard. It slowly dies down, and Eisen takes a shaky breath and resumes walking although his feet feel like lead. He turns the curve with dread just as another wail arises, and peers ahead. A man with a rifle slung over his back is kneeling in the road, rocking back and forth, cradling something in his arms, sobbing piteously. Eisen can see the little boy's limp arms and legs...he's even smaller and younger than he'd thought he was, barely more than a baby, and Eisen swallows hard, eyes stinging. He slowly approaches although he has no idea what he's doing, halting again when the man lifts his head and looks right at him. Tears stream down his face and his shoulders shake as he cries; Eisen can tell from the pain in his eyes that this must be the boy's father. He stares at Eisen for a moment, as if asking why, before lowering his head and clutching the boy close again. Eisen can't bear to look long at the large crack in the boy's skull, remembering the sound and feel of the sidecar making it. He swallows again. "I..." He hears his voice before he even realizes he's talking. "I saw..." I saw him, his voice says in his head, I saw him, and I tried to turn, I really did, but we were going so fast and Herr Schavitz grabbed the handlebars and I couldn't get back control, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant it to happen, I'm so sorry, bitte, I'll do anything to make it right--only when he speaks, different words come out: "I saw a motorcycle...with sidecar...an American soldier driving it. A Trench Rat." He fusses with the edge of his jacket and looks over his shoulder. "I tried to follow...but I lost him." Takes a step back, then another. "I'll try to find him," he says, turns, and starts jogging. He has to force himself not to say he's sorry, as that implies guilt, and right now, he has to protect General Schavitz, that's his job above all else. "I'll keep looking," he calls back instead, rounds the corner, and jogs back to the waiting motorcycle. As soon as he climbs back into the seat and reaches for the ignition--"Hhukk--!"--Schavitz shoves his pistol under his jaw. "What the f**k you think you're doing running off like that?" he snarls. "Disobeying my order! Tell me why not to blow your head off right here!" "I--" Eisen pushes the gun away, shakes a fist. "I was coming up with a story for you! That man back there!" He pauses and they both listen a moment to the distant wailing. "That man won't be bought off like the parents of those girls! I had to tell him something!" "And what exactly did you tell him--?" Schavitz growls. "I told him a Trench Rat did it! And that I'd go looking to find him." Schavitz doesn't interfere as he starts the motorcycle, though he takes care not to rev it too hard, as it could start to sputter again. "Which means we need to go now, before he suspects! Or do you want him to know it was us--?" This last he tosses out from pure anger, knowing it's a bad idea but unable to help himself. To his relief, Schavitz scowls, but holsters his pistol and sits back in the sidecar, declining to argue further. Eisen lets out a breath, grateful for the small reprieve; he continues up the forest road, slower now, though he can't get that awful wail out of his head. Adel hardly pays attention to anything around him. Hans is all there is, and now he's gone. He glances up when he hears someone, sees somebody dressed in black, but his eyes are so blurred with tears he can't make them out well. He hears them say something about a Trench Rat, and a motorcycle with a sidecar, but doesn't register much else before they're gone. The roar and sputter and Hans's one short cry echo endlessly in his head. Why did he never warn him about vehicles. Why did he never warn him about the road. Why didn't he keep him nearer, hold his hand once more. Why did the universe give him Hans, yet then take him away. Why, why, why. He eventually picks Hans up off the road, cradles him close, tries to hold the little broken body together. Hans doesn't look up at him, doesn't smile, doesn't hum or laugh or exclaim, "Vogel!" at a bird flying overhead. His skin is cool. Adel can barely see where he's going, has to follow his memory of the trail to reach home. He can't bring himself to set Hans down as he retrieves a blanket, the quartz, and a shovel from the back of his house, he doesn't want to lose what small bit of warmth his son has left. He'd never even considered the need for a grave...a parent shouldn't outlive a child...yet one thing springs to mind. The road, the monstrous road that took him. When he digs Hans's grave, he digs it as a warning. It's right near where Hans toddled out of the safety of the trees and into danger. It's a warning to watch out for the road, and it's a warning to watch out for him. In his heart, the rage and hatred are already brewing. Adel digs. He wraps Hans in his favorite blanket, places the beloved quartz crystal that had brought such wonder with him, settles him gently in the ground. He doesn't believe in God or an afterlife, so it makes no sense to imagine his son happy and playing again in some other place, yet he thinks it anyway, because if only one person deserves a Heaven, it's Hans. He starts sobbing again as he replaces the earth, needing to stop several times and listen, just to be sure he's really gone. The silence only makes him cry harder. Despite his lack of faith he places a cross over the grave, mostly as a warning to let it be. He carves a small bird--Vogel--and hangs it from the cross. Then has to force himself to leave it and return home. Everything he sees within--the mobile, the wooden toys, the cot--and the one thing he doesn't see--brings a fresh stab of grief. He doesn't prepare a meal. He dumps his gun and the harness by the door, curls up in his bed, and sobs himself to sleep. He dreams that Hans is crying for him. Flees the house to find him before remembering, and it hits him like a wall of bricks. Checks if he's still in a nightmare, finds the grave untouched, cries on realizing it really happened, his son is gone. Returns home, pulls out a bottle, and drinks. He never had the time or desire to do so as long as Hans was there, wanting him, needing him. Now, he drinks more than he has in years, and tries to forget. He eventually passes out, but Hans is all he dreams about, and when he finally, groggily drags himself back awake, he's still full of grief, but even more...he's full of fury. Adel is pretty much a pacifist. He prefers avoidance to confrontation, not out of cowardice, but because he's seen enough to know that to fight back makes little difference in a life driven by fate. He wanted to be left alone and to leave others alone. Hans changed that...Hans's death has changed it even more. Adel racks his brain, remembers the man in black and what he said. He loads his gun, and he goes looking. He's very patient when he's motivated and when he's sober. He treks further through the forest than usual, to more well-traveled roads. Finds those that the Germans use, then seeks others, ones they don't use, knowing those are the paths the enemy will use. He keeps watch and holds his fire. He's only looking for now, gathering information. He'd never been interested in them before, he's avoided anything to do with the war, but now he takes note of the American soldiers, the ones called Trench Rats. He notices one day that the corporal gets around on a motorcycle with a sidecar. He feels the fury boiling over. Finally, he starts pulling the trigger. Schavitz lives in a castle--a genuine castle, Castle Schavitz, though it once bore another name. Schavitz inherited the castle and its staff at gunpoint from the previous owners, whose remains were swept away in the adjacent river, along with the remains of a teenage schoolgirl or two. Schavitz's mood is often quite poor. He was recently turned down for membership in the SS for reasons that are pure slanderous garbage (in his opinion). He also recently lost an eye, shot out by the Trench Rat sergeant. So yes, he has a lousy temper lately. He latches on to anything that scratches his spiteful itch, and when rumors start spreading among the troops, of a mysterious sniper who appears to be targeting Trench Rats, it's exactly the juicy news he's been looking for. He enlists (orders) his chauffeur Eisen to use his contacts in the military and elsewhere to get more info. Eisen finds the request odd--he's used to much more unsavory tasks, like paying off or otherwise disposing of aforementioned schoolgirls--but does as he's told. His contacts take a while to get back to him with all that they've found. Eisen pales more and more as he listens, and actually hesitates bringing the info to Schavitz, though he has little choice. Schavitz listens intently as Eisen fills him in: The sniper's name is Adel--just Adel, no one knows his last name--and although he lives among the Waldvolk he's not one of them. They don't know where he lived before, but he used to visit the city to deal with a few vices, he's very familiar with the woods, and he's an excellent shot. He must be self-taught, as he's apparently never been in the military. No one can explain why he's never been conscripted, aside from even military officials being too nervous to go confront anyone in that stretch of the woods. He has an odd habit of firing a warning shot before he starts targeting individuals, as if to give them the chance to arm themselves first, and there are indications he won't target unarmed or seriously injured parties; during a recent attack when he shot and killed three soldiers, he ceased firing when their companions came out of concealment to retrieve the bodies--all of this hints at some sort of honor code. Most interesting is his choice of target: Trench Rats. No one else, not even other Allies. Just Trench Rats. Schavitz finds this all terribly interesting. He'd like to meet Herr Adel. Eisen quails at the suggestion, finally--under threat of violence--explaining why: He's pretty sure he knows who Adel is. "That man whose kid we ran down," he says, "don't you remember--? He had a rifle on him when I found him. I told him a Trench Rat did it! He must've taken it to heart. He's the sniper! I just know it!" Schavitz finds this more amusing than anything, though--"Looks like he believed you, at least. What worry do you have if he recognizes us? I want you to get him to come here for a talk. See if I can offer him a job. This stupid 'honor code' will need some fixing first, but I think I can make good use of him." Eisen doesn't dare refuse, but he does send some other poor sap to invite Adel to visit. Said sap nearly gets his head blown off, of course--aside from resuming his occasional visits to the city to get drunk and pick people up in bars, Adel's grown even more isolated and reclusive than before, and meaner, to boot. Poor sap is barely able to deliver his message, and even then, Adel expresses no interest in visiting. Eisen had anticipated this, and included the promise of killing more Trench Rats, more easily, as an incentive. Adel wavers. Finally he tells poor sap he'll show up on his own, when he's good and ready. Poor sap hurries off to Eisen with the news. Schavitz is peeved to be made to wait, but what can you do. Adel shows up as promised, though it's late at night, it's the middle of a downpour, and nobody's expecting him. He's wearing a raincoat so Eisen, who's just lit up a cigarette and is ready to head to bed once it's smoked, yells at him through the gate to go away; he has to show the note Eisen wrote before Eisen realizes who he is and hurries to open the gate and let him in. Eisen's incredibly nervous, yet Adel doesn't react to him, just pulls down his hood and shakes off the rain. He apparently doesn't recognize or remember Eisen. Eisen leads him to Schavitz. Schavitz is in a sore mood to be wakened so late, but perks up immediately when Eisen informs him of his visitor. He introduces himself, and his mission, "Which I think is much the same as yours." Namely, to eradicate as many Trench Rats as possible. Adel listens, but doesn't seem terribly interested: "In case you haven't noticed, Herr Generaloberst," he says, "I can already do that on my own." "True," Schavitz says, "but you're not in the Wehrmacht, are you...? So technically, one could say that not only are you dodging military duty, you're also committing...how should I put it?...extrajudicial executions? Let's just say murder." He notices the look in Adel's eyes shift slightly (he doesn't notice the corresponding "What a f**king hypocrite" look of disgust Eisen gets), and smiles. "Now we're on the same page. You're in luck, though, Herr Adel. See this?" He lifts his eyepatch, shows Adel where the skin has been stitched shut, replaces the patch. "I'll assume you have your own reason to want to see every last Trench Rat dead. Not my business why. I have my reasons as you see. And unlike many of my fellows, I'm willing to overlook certain rules when it's suitable. The way I see it, you're performing a needed service to the Fatherland, and you're doing a far better job than many of our own. What I can offer you is legitimacy. Were you to be in the military, everything you're doing right now, the very same actions that are currently considered illegal, would be perfectly legal. Isn't that ridiculous, in a way?--the arbitrariness of it? That the only thing that makes you a criminal right now is lack of a simple military rank?" "I'm not interested in training," Adel says. Schavitz shrugs. "And who said anything about training--? You obviously already possess all the needed skills for a Scharfschütze. The rest, I suppose I can dig up somebody to give you a few pointers on discipline and proper behavior until you find your footing. The Heer will grant you all you need in terms of ammunition and a proper rifle to replace that ancient contraption you use. All you need is a rank, and I can procure you one. Skip past all that trivial nonsense. How does Leutnant sound? Oberleutnant perhaps?" Adel doesn't respond. "Oberleutnant it is, then. Not too low, not too high. Just enough freedom to do what you need without having to oversee anyone else. I'll pull a few strings and find a unit to attach you to when you're out in the field. The rest of the time is yours to do with as you'd like. I hear you like to visit the bars...? Just try not to get drunk on the job, and you should be fine. Trawl the bars all you want. We all have vices we need to feed, ja, Herr Eisen...?" Eisen says nothing, though he does scowl a little. "So, what do you say, Herr Adel...? I get you a military commission, you do what you do best, and kill off some Rats for us...? Otherwise...I can't guarantee you won't receive a visit from the authorities, authorities who will be much better equipped to deal with you should you refuse to politely welcome them." Adel is silent for a moment. When he speaks, he does so quietly. "Tell me where I need to be and when." Schavitz smiles again. "Excellent choice. I'll send along a messenger once I have every detail ironed out, so you should have ample time to get yourself ready. Just make sure not to shoot the poor man, ja...?" He flicks a hand at Eisen. "Herr Eisen, see Herr Adel out. No need to fetch the bike, I'm sure he can find his own way back home." Eisen steps forward and Adel turns to leave before Schavitz says, "Oh, by the way, Herr Adel, have you a name for yourself, yet--?" Adel pauses, looks back. "Name...?" "Ja, a name, what else...? Nein, I don't mean your real name. I hear you're reluctant giving that out, I won't judge, I'll find something to give the authorities. I mean your nickname, for when you're in the Heer. Every sniper must have a name, ja? 'Herr Adel' is hardly appropriate. " "I hadn't thought of one. I never wanted to be a sniper." "I suppose it's a good thing then that I've even come up with the perfect name for you. Rattenhund. Ratdog." Schavitz grins from ear to ear. "Because you're hunting Rats...get it?" Sits back, waves dismissively. "Get going, Herr Eisen, I'm heading off to bed now. Gute Nacht, Herr Ratdog. I look forward to observing your handiwork." Adel--Ratdog--stares after Schavitz as he turns and departs. "Come along," Eisen murmurs, and he turns away as well, and follows. [Hans von NN 2024 [Friday, February 23, 2024, 12:00:13 AM]] 2/10/25: r/SketchDaily theme, "Something Outside Of Your Drawing Comfort Zone." Things outside my drawing comfort zone are largely manmade things, the more intricate parts the harder, for example machinery and architecture; and figures, especially more than one together. I was short on time so did a quick sketch of a character art idea I've had for a while but haven't tried yet due to complexity. This is Adel von NN (AKA Ratdog) and his toddler son Hans in happier days. Adel carries a rifle, and I am both awful at drawing guns and at knowing which particular model he'd be carrying, but anyway. I'm not sure when I'll summon the guts to draw the finished work. [Schmetterling Rough Sketch [Monday, February 10, 2025, 12:25:03 AM]] |