Even in the darkest night the sun will rise (loneiysong & Rivine)

[Rivine]

The staff car pulled up in front of the man entrance of the Mittelsteine concentration camp, halting. The driver got out and moved to the back passenger door behind him, opening it and then snapping to attention as he held it open. The driver was wearing the black formal dress uniform of a member of the SS, as was the man who gingerly exited the vehicle, his leather riding boots crunching upon the gravel as they took his weight. Falk Wagner was a captain in the SS and he looked every bit the part in his black uniform, his auburn hair groomed immaculately and his green eyes sharp. He scanned over the small detail that awaited him which included the current camp commandant and a dozen of his guards, all of them female. For the most part, beyond the staff, the camp's entire guard force were female. Falk knew this of course because for the last week and a half he had been leading an investigation into the camp and the nearby factories where the women held there worked.

Falk's eyes scanned the group, then focused on the camp commander, who was coming over to him. "Hello Captain," the man said as he approached, but Falk seemed to not be listening. Instead he reached down to his right hip and unbuckled the strap that held the top flap of his holster down. He kept his eyes on the commandant's though so as to keep his attention on Falk's face. It worked and the commander was completely surprised as Falk raised his pistol, practically touching the man's forehead with it, and fired. The shot rang out and the man dropped, deafening silence following the echoes.

Falk holstered his weapon and stepped around the corpse, not sparring it a second glance. He then looked to the senior of the women of the guards that was present as he removed a piece of paper from a pocket. "You, come here," he said to her. She moved over to him quickly as he unfolded the paper with crisp movements that showed he felt no remorse. It was as if the man he had just killed had meant nothing to him. "This is a list of prisoners that are to be gathered. Trucks will be coming for them," he told her, handing it to her. She took it with a nod and was about to speak when he held a hand up. "I am not finished. The name at the top is that of a woman I wish to be brought to my quarters. See to that yourself. If she is accidentally herded in with the others then I shall hold you responsible."

Without another word he turned away, but the senior guard called the others into a salute, which caused Falk to pause. He about faced promptly and clicked his heels together, holding out his right arm, "Hail Hitler!" he intoned in response, then said, "You have your orders. You are dismissed." He turned away once more and strode away from the camp, heading towards the old country house that was the comandat's quarters... his quarters now.

 

[loneiysong]

Dahlia Goldstein was a very beautiful girl. But she was a Jew. And it was not a good time to be Hebrew at all. Especially if you were a famous singer in Germany. She was sent to the Mittelsteine concentration camp and heard of far worse ones. Everyday, Dahlia woke up, knelt by her bed adn prayed to a God that many believed had failed them. But she knew that for the suffering, there had to be a greater purpose.

When Dahlia first arrived at the concentration camps, she kept to her kosher meal. But after a few days of starving and several of the soldiers taking notice she was not being compliant and the ways that they stroked their guns almost longingly like loyal dogs, Dahlia knew that the Master of the Universe would understand and ate what little she was given. She kept her eyes adverted whenever they began to shout in German, when they began to taunt the other women and herself. She constantly wavered in her faith, but then she would look up at the sky and know that there was a plan still. A plan that was bigger than her, bigger than the Jewish race, and bigger than some tiny scared Nazi men who cowered at night behind their bloody hands. Dahlia sometimes woke up to the sounds of guns and frowned. She could see an end to the war, but every day that continued on, she wondered how much longer she would survive.

She painstakingly made sure that she worked hard. Women who were not working hard, or were seen crying, were shot immediately. Sometimes, during particularly awful workdays, she was forced to sing as women were crying and thus shot. Dahlia found herself becoming hard. Her faith was the sole thing she gripped onto. She slowly became quiet, not talking to anyone, her face was drawn and she looked thirty years older than when she was a musician singing and smiling.

Dahlia's black hair fell around her shoulders and her blue eyes looked out as she was walking to her bunker from the factory. Tonight she had been forced to sew uniforms. She rubbed the pins and needles that refused to leave her fingers and palms. She looked up as she saw one soldier shoot a man. At first she thought it was a woman who was trying to escape, but saw that the man was too fat. She looked down quickly as she moved a bit faster to her bunker.

Whatever was going on at Mittelsteine camp, she did not want to witness it. Several of the women inside gripped her hands as she came in. Instantly she was awash in rumors of Aushwitz, transferring, crematoriums, and other horrors. Dahlia was too exhausted but smiled and cleared her throat. "The Master of the Universe watches over his children." She said, but tonight it lacked the conviction she usually was able to raise up the other women. Moving to her bunk, she laid down and sighed. Thinking of the way that the Captain just shot that other man.

 

[Rivine]

Falk entered the house and looked over the entryway. He already knew that the house had belonged to a doctor before the war, a Jew who had profited from the poor farm folk. He had no doubt that the man had swindled many of his neighbors in order to afford such a home. The entryway opened up into a foyer which had a room to either side of it; one appeared to be a study while the other appeared to be a living room. A large staircase was also in the foyer and lead up to the second floor where he knew the home's three bedrooms were. He did not bother to walk the house, figuring that the dining room was adjoined to the living room and the former was likely in turn joined to the kitchen. It was a simple and yet elegant. He was more then certain that it would suit his needs.

The captain strolled into the study then, looking around it. He frowned when he noticed that the books upon the shelves were still, for the most part, the doctor's medical texts. That would have to be remedied. The camps previous commander had stacks upon stacks of forms and the like upon the desk, which made Falk scowl. He would need to get an aide-de-camp for himself in order to sort it all out in a reasonable amount of time. But the thing that he found most intriguing was a map that was upon one of the walls. He strolled over to it and studied it, his eyes tracing over it. The map itself was of the European continent as well as north Africa. The former commandant had meticulously plotted out the progress of the various campaigns, lines of grey outlining the extent of the Reich's gains over the past few years. In addition to that both victories and defeats had been noted upon the map with thumb tacks; red ones for German victories and black ones for defeats. The captain's eyes drifted over the map and many of the names of places he had been. Memories came with them, the sights and sounds that always followed a soldier. Falk regretted none of what he had done in the name of the fuehrer.

There was a sudden knock upon the front door and he was forced to look say form the map and banish his memories. He strode to the front door and opened it. There stood the woman he had dispatched to retrieve the prisoner he wanted, Dahlia Goldstein. "Sir," the woman said, "I have brought her." Falk nodded and stepped to the side, holding the door and saying, "Bring her in..."

 

[loneiysong]

Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, she was kicked square in the back. Rolling her eyes up, but biting her lip to keep from screaming out, she turned and looked at the woman attached to teh foot. She swallowed and then the woman began barking at her in German. Standing up, she winced as the pain her back became more prominent thanks to the blow. As she walked out of the bunk following the woman, she couldn't help but notice several scared eyes watch her. Knowing that they were probably seeing the last of their sweet Dahlia. She smiled and nodded as if to say "I greet my death with open arms and go to meet my maker unashamed." She walked out into the chilly air and wrapped her arms around herself.

She was walked to a cargo truck and loaded in all by herself. She sat in the back and the woman climbed in the driver side and began to drive. Looking down at her hands, Dahlia couldn't help but remember when they were soft. They were creamy. They were unblemished. Perfect hands. But now, they were calloused and hard from the many different types of work she was forced to endure. Soon teh truck skidded to a halt sending Dahlia forward. Standing up, she moved to the back and the woman grabbed her yanking her down. They were at a house. Now Dahlia was extremely confused. If a woman was to be a personal slave for a Nazi, they picked them before they could be "sullied" by work.

Standing, she watched teh woman knock on the door. It opened to the man she saw shoot the other man. Quickly she looked down. HE knew what she saw. What she witnessed. She wished that the ground would open and swallow her. But she felt the hand of the woman grab her arm tightly and she walked inside with her and looked at the back of the officer. She was shoved a bit to stand in the middle of a lavish rug.

 

[Rivine]

Falk stood to the side as the guard brought the woman in that he had requested. His eyes explored her and she was brought in. Yes, that is here. But she is thinner. The woman did not even look at him, which did not surprise him. That seemed to be a trait of her people, one he had noticed time and time again whenever his troops had rounded some up. He could not help that he saw it as a weakness. After all he was a German, an Aryan, a member of the race that was meant to dominate the world. He was a hawk and she a lowly rat, so how was he supposed to understand her? Of course she would avert her eyes, after all she was prey while he was a predator.

Once the guard brought the woman in he motioned with his head to the door and said curtly, "You can leave frau." The gaurdswoman looked at him and furrowed her eyebrows, speaking with a questioning tone, "But sir, do you not wa..." Falk looked at her, his eyes hard, "I was being polite. You are dismissed. Now go." The woman, who was herself a rather attractive specimen of a pure German woman with blonde hair and blue yes, scowled at him and walked out the door, closing it rather hard.

Falk ignored her and strolled towards the woman who was standing in the foyer, his cavalry boots clicking lightly against the tiled floors as he circled her a bit, avoiding the rug as he walked. He did that for awhile, circling her twice before he stopped before her. "You are Dahlia Goldstein yes? The singer?" he asked her, his eyes focused on her intently.

 

[loneiysong]

Even though Dahlia did not look up, the way he walked did not suprise her. The way that he walked told that he thought he was superior. She would love to cook his food, cause he would slowly poison him. She would be happy to see him vomiting and have to trust her to bring him the medicine. She smiled to herself as she thought about him sick in bed reaching for her, begging her, promising her everything. Suprised at herself, she shook herself as the woman was getting into trouble. How intereseting, they even thought they were superior to even their own kind. Such a shame.

She kept her eyes down. She learned quickly that if one was looked at, that enraged them. Soon they were shouting for you to lay on your face and then next moment your brains were coating the street. She had seen it happening so many times. Clearing her throat, she swallowed as she was once again put back into the past. A past that seemed more like a dream. Back when the Germans crawled on their knees to find their way into her arms.

"My name is Dahlia Goldstein sir, or at least it once was, but now I am a humble worker in the work factory." She said. "I am not much of how I used to be." She said mimicking the words that were said to her by an old lady who gripped her hands and tears rolled down her face. "My dear," she had said. "You are no longer the singer you used to be. Your songs are so sad and defeated."

Dahlia Goldstein, singer in the Blue Bayou, used to sing songs of lovers, eternal love, and positive. Now she sang of death, depression, and anything dark. She figured that she would always sing those types of songs.

 

[Rivine]

Falk stood before her, listening to her response to him. He nodded and looked at her, his eyes intent upon her features. She certainly had changed a good deal since the last time he had seen her perform. She seemed... less... then what she had once been. That was disappointing. He had thought that perhaps she had been stronger then others of her kind, would have some spirit. But here she was acting like a defeated and beaten dog or something. It was not what he had expected from her.

He was silent for a few minutes, then said softly, "I see. Well, you will no longer be working in the factories," he informed her abruptly. "I have need of a woman's touch around here. Someone to clean, tidy things up, cook, things of that nature," he went on, stepping forward so that he was closer to her. "However, this offer must be accepted of your own free will. I will not have someone working for me who does not wish too." Undoubtedly she'd see a veiled threat of some kind behind that statement, which was part of the reason for him putting it that way. He really had no intention of doing her harm, but he did want her out of the camp and with him. Making her chose that, in part, was something that he could use as leverage against her later.

One of his feet tapped against the ground and he asked her, "Well, what is your choice?" He then reached out, putting a finger under her chin and raising it so her eyes were focused on his. "Tell me what it shall be; the camp or comfort?" he asked her, curiosity and an intensity boiled in his eyes as they gazed into her own.

 

[loneiysong]

As he talked adn gripped her face. She could see the superiority in his eyes and felt something she thought was old and dead bubble to the surface. She grinned adn canted her head. He would be able to see the spirit within her to.

"Why do you want me? Why not pick out some other filthy rat from the farm to satisfy your monstrous hunger?" She looked at him. She was talking like she used to. Full of spunk and wit. She was still there, she had just learned to hide herself deep under the surface so as not to upset another Nazi. But since she was in this man's home, she knew that he was either going to kill her or let her work here. And since he said that she needed to choose him of her own free will, she was going to reach an agreement wit him. It felt good being spirited and not afraid anymore as she stared into those cold blue eyes.

"Tell me." She smiled and looked at him and grinned softly.