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sevenpercentsolution
Supernova
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2009
Author's Note: Anyone who has seen 'Inglourious Basterds' will be aware that it is a multi-lingual story; at best, my skills in other languages can be described as 'terrifying', so while some words may be in the language they're meant to be in, we will be primarily writing in English and highlighting in other colours to indicate another language is being spoken. I can't believe I'm doing this, but here's our language colour chart:
German will be written in dim gray
Hebrew will be written in blue
French will be written in dark green
English will be given no assigned colour.
We'll add more as we encounter other languages; god help us all.
----
Once Upon a Time
In Nazi-occupied France...
The Kübelwagen ground it's way along the last of the rain-slicked roads near Porte Dauphine just as the sun began to sink below the horizon; the radio crackled with static, the music stuttering and interrupted by the steady drizzle of a cold April rainfall.
Vor der Kaserne,
Vor dem grossen Tor,
Stand eine Laterne
Und steht sie noch davor.
Reinthaller shrivelled his nose at the radio, an expression that rumpled the scar located directly between his eyebrows, a mark he'd received when he had first been drafted back in '39, when he'd still been a Private - a weak kid, too skinny to handle killing one dirty Jew. He'd hesitated, back then.
Then the fucking Abbie had got him across the face with a beer bottle and he'd learned, he'd learned quick. It was easy to pull the trigger after that.
Just like he'd do der Schlampe on the radio, if he ever met her. Traitor. She may as well be a goddamn Yank.
So wollân wir uns da wiedersehân,
Wenn wir bei der Laterne stehân,
Wie einst, Lilli Marleen,
Wie einst, Lilli Marleen.
"Blöde Fotze," Stupid cunt Reinthaller snarled at the radio, as though Dietrich might be able to hear him via the radio waves; beside him, Commandant Wiligut gave a low laugh and took a right turn, veering the Volkswagen off of the paved road and into the heavily wooded Bois de Bolougne. Reinthaller fixed his superior with a questioning gaze, only to see Wiligut jerk his head back slightly, towards the back seat.
Ach, ja. He had nearly forgotten - they weren't usually this quiet.
Turning in his seat, Reinthaller stared at their prisoner; he was bound in cuffs and black and blue from the beating he'd received early on. The man spoke fluent, flawless German, but he was one of them - like a dirty fucking rat, this one had managed to blend in for years, another Jew posing as a German, making a damn mockery of their nation. Of everything they'd worked for. Everything they'd suffered and killed for.
He cocked his head to the side; their prisoner was a grown man, but Reinthaller could have easily mistaken him for a woman - from the slender build to the long, dark hair and with his big eyes and full lips, the Jew could scarcely be viewed as male. He was androgynous, even.
Reinthaller's eyes shifted back to Wiligut, who simply smiled at the windshield; strictly speaking, while in the boundaries of Paris, they were meant to bring all Jews to Vichy and drop them off at the Drancy internment camp with the rest of their kind.
Strictly speaking.
But no one would miss one kike.
He focused on the road again; it used to be that German soldiers would discreetly make their way into the Bois de Bolougne or Vincennes because, after dark, the prostitutes would populate the area, looking for customers - and no painted face would refuse a Nazi, not if she wanted to leave the woods alive.
But that was back before the regime had scared them all away; these days, the woods were used for other things that had to be kept quiet.
Leaves crunched under the wagen's wheels; Wiligut had driven close to the lower lake and the waterfall was just visible beneath the drooping branches of the weeping willows. The Commandant was the first to step out of the vehicle; the floor of the woods was soft beneath the heels of his jackboots.
"Kommen Sie." Wiligut said, and Reinthaller obeyed, stepping out; Wiligut yanked open the back door then, grabbing the prisoner by his skinny upper arm, barking: "Kommen Sie auch, Jüden."
The Commandant looked the prisoner over; he'd retrieved the man's name earlier - Aaron Levy, a German-born Jew who had managed to evade the Schutzstaffel. Wiligut explained it away - he was rasied in Germany, so naturally, even as a Yid, he had some German ingenuity.
Being caught, however, was simply the fate of the Jew.
"Zeige es Disziplin." Show it discipline Wiligut sneered, half-dragging Levy to the inferior officer and shoving him in Reinthaller's direction; he leaned back against the side of the Volkswagen, pulling a dog-eared cigarette from the breast of his overcoat and propping it between his lips before adding, "Kreativ sein." Be creative.
Reinthaller gave a stiff nod,
"Ja wolle." he said, and took hold of Levy's arm, insisting him across the muddied woods, leading him towards the lake. Reinthaller discovered there was little resistance; though the officer was not a heavy man by any standard, the Jew was too thin, too slight, too lacking in mass to put up any significant struggle against him.
The walk, however, felt strangely long; Levy's mouth was gagged by the kerchief that had been shoved in place early on and Reinthaller couldn't think of anything significant to say - between them, there was only the sound of breathing and twigs breaking underfoot, combined with the not-too-distant rush of the waterfall.
Reinthaller brushed the leaves of a willow out of his face as they passed beneath a pair of them that had grown towards eachother, forming a drooping green arch above them, branches glistening with rain droplets, living up to it's name as the flora itself appeared to be crying. A raindrop hit his neck and Reinthaller rubbed it away as he fell to stillness only feet away from the lake's edge - the sun was at half-mast now, and it had cast an orange and red light across the water, glaring into his eyes with such brightness that he had to blink it away.
He turned his head then, fixing his eyes on Levy; light was glaring off of him as well, creating a strange play of shadows across his thin face, settling in the hollows of his cheeks and emphasized by the way his mouth was held around the gag.
He found his mind going back to his earlier thoughts; the Jew didn't look masculine at all.
And especially now, he looked positively girlish.
Something dark stirred inside of Reinthaller and it was a feeling that was immediately accompanied by guilt; he peered back over his shoulder and found that he could no longer see the Kübelwagen or the Commandant.
It was just him and the Jew, wasn't it?
He eyed Levy for a long moment, looking over the numerous bruises that marred his face, the way that his lips were swollen. What a weak, pathetic creature. He was helpless.
Just like a woman.
Anger suddenly surged inside of Reinthaller at the thought and he grabbed Levy by the back of his thin neck, forcing him forward, kicking his legs out from under him and violently forcing his head into the lake, knowing he only had his nose to breathe through.
"Für`n Ungeziefer!" Fucking vermin! He spat out.
German will be written in dim gray
Hebrew will be written in blue
French will be written in dark green
English will be given no assigned colour.
We'll add more as we encounter other languages; god help us all.
----
Once Upon a Time
In Nazi-occupied France...
1944
The Kübelwagen ground it's way along the last of the rain-slicked roads near Porte Dauphine just as the sun began to sink below the horizon; the radio crackled with static, the music stuttering and interrupted by the steady drizzle of a cold April rainfall.
Vor der Kaserne,
Vor dem grossen Tor,
Stand eine Laterne
Und steht sie noch davor.
Reinthaller shrivelled his nose at the radio, an expression that rumpled the scar located directly between his eyebrows, a mark he'd received when he had first been drafted back in '39, when he'd still been a Private - a weak kid, too skinny to handle killing one dirty Jew. He'd hesitated, back then.
Then the fucking Abbie had got him across the face with a beer bottle and he'd learned, he'd learned quick. It was easy to pull the trigger after that.
Just like he'd do der Schlampe on the radio, if he ever met her. Traitor. She may as well be a goddamn Yank.
So wollân wir uns da wiedersehân,
Wenn wir bei der Laterne stehân,
Wie einst, Lilli Marleen,
Wie einst, Lilli Marleen.
"Blöde Fotze," Stupid cunt Reinthaller snarled at the radio, as though Dietrich might be able to hear him via the radio waves; beside him, Commandant Wiligut gave a low laugh and took a right turn, veering the Volkswagen off of the paved road and into the heavily wooded Bois de Bolougne. Reinthaller fixed his superior with a questioning gaze, only to see Wiligut jerk his head back slightly, towards the back seat.
Ach, ja. He had nearly forgotten - they weren't usually this quiet.
Turning in his seat, Reinthaller stared at their prisoner; he was bound in cuffs and black and blue from the beating he'd received early on. The man spoke fluent, flawless German, but he was one of them - like a dirty fucking rat, this one had managed to blend in for years, another Jew posing as a German, making a damn mockery of their nation. Of everything they'd worked for. Everything they'd suffered and killed for.
He cocked his head to the side; their prisoner was a grown man, but Reinthaller could have easily mistaken him for a woman - from the slender build to the long, dark hair and with his big eyes and full lips, the Jew could scarcely be viewed as male. He was androgynous, even.
Reinthaller's eyes shifted back to Wiligut, who simply smiled at the windshield; strictly speaking, while in the boundaries of Paris, they were meant to bring all Jews to Vichy and drop them off at the Drancy internment camp with the rest of their kind.
Strictly speaking.
But no one would miss one kike.
He focused on the road again; it used to be that German soldiers would discreetly make their way into the Bois de Bolougne or Vincennes because, after dark, the prostitutes would populate the area, looking for customers - and no painted face would refuse a Nazi, not if she wanted to leave the woods alive.
But that was back before the regime had scared them all away; these days, the woods were used for other things that had to be kept quiet.
Leaves crunched under the wagen's wheels; Wiligut had driven close to the lower lake and the waterfall was just visible beneath the drooping branches of the weeping willows. The Commandant was the first to step out of the vehicle; the floor of the woods was soft beneath the heels of his jackboots.
"Kommen Sie." Wiligut said, and Reinthaller obeyed, stepping out; Wiligut yanked open the back door then, grabbing the prisoner by his skinny upper arm, barking: "Kommen Sie auch, Jüden."
The Commandant looked the prisoner over; he'd retrieved the man's name earlier - Aaron Levy, a German-born Jew who had managed to evade the Schutzstaffel. Wiligut explained it away - he was rasied in Germany, so naturally, even as a Yid, he had some German ingenuity.
Being caught, however, was simply the fate of the Jew.
"Zeige es Disziplin." Show it discipline Wiligut sneered, half-dragging Levy to the inferior officer and shoving him in Reinthaller's direction; he leaned back against the side of the Volkswagen, pulling a dog-eared cigarette from the breast of his overcoat and propping it between his lips before adding, "Kreativ sein." Be creative.
Reinthaller gave a stiff nod,
"Ja wolle." he said, and took hold of Levy's arm, insisting him across the muddied woods, leading him towards the lake. Reinthaller discovered there was little resistance; though the officer was not a heavy man by any standard, the Jew was too thin, too slight, too lacking in mass to put up any significant struggle against him.
The walk, however, felt strangely long; Levy's mouth was gagged by the kerchief that had been shoved in place early on and Reinthaller couldn't think of anything significant to say - between them, there was only the sound of breathing and twigs breaking underfoot, combined with the not-too-distant rush of the waterfall.
Reinthaller brushed the leaves of a willow out of his face as they passed beneath a pair of them that had grown towards eachother, forming a drooping green arch above them, branches glistening with rain droplets, living up to it's name as the flora itself appeared to be crying. A raindrop hit his neck and Reinthaller rubbed it away as he fell to stillness only feet away from the lake's edge - the sun was at half-mast now, and it had cast an orange and red light across the water, glaring into his eyes with such brightness that he had to blink it away.
He turned his head then, fixing his eyes on Levy; light was glaring off of him as well, creating a strange play of shadows across his thin face, settling in the hollows of his cheeks and emphasized by the way his mouth was held around the gag.
He found his mind going back to his earlier thoughts; the Jew didn't look masculine at all.
And especially now, he looked positively girlish.
Something dark stirred inside of Reinthaller and it was a feeling that was immediately accompanied by guilt; he peered back over his shoulder and found that he could no longer see the Kübelwagen or the Commandant.
It was just him and the Jew, wasn't it?
He eyed Levy for a long moment, looking over the numerous bruises that marred his face, the way that his lips were swollen. What a weak, pathetic creature. He was helpless.
Just like a woman.
Anger suddenly surged inside of Reinthaller at the thought and he grabbed Levy by the back of his thin neck, forcing him forward, kicking his legs out from under him and violently forcing his head into the lake, knowing he only had his nose to breathe through.
"Für`n Ungeziefer!" Fucking vermin! He spat out.
