Ernst looks around the landscape, turning his head from side to side as if to drink it all in with sips small and steady. He is careful not to let his school pants get mussed as he shifts on the broad tree branch waving, supporting his weight. A tie looped loosely around his neck and the collar of his almost clean white shirt, he says to the other boys, with the books in their hands and their school jackets slightly less straight then they were several hours earlier, "Shush, can you hear that?" When the others pause in their tracks at the sound of his high-pitched voice and say "What?" he says, "Nothing, can you hear nothing? It's nice." The boys shake their heads, as if saying, My God, who notices things like that? It's not so important as what I have waiting for me at home. Ernst sighs and purses his lips as he watches the clouds move across the sky. He wobbles a little, swaying back and forth even more precariously, each time he rocks forward getting closer and closer to falling. Perhaps the others don't know it yet, but he's preparing to topple groundwards, hoping one of the boys- maybe even beautiful Hänschen, the haughty blonde with the neat slacks and smirk- can catch him.
In the meantime, Anna is curled up with her knees against her chest against a tree in the field the girls always pass when they walk home every day. She offers her gentle smile to the rapidly-darkening sky, eyes closed, listening for the familiar sigh and small giggle brought by Thea when her feet make the leaves and tall grass rustle. She is waiting for the tall girl with the braids and the long dress to come and keep her warm, accompanied by her smiling face and excitable mannerism. It is only a minute, perhaps one minute too long, until the quiet laugh comes. Footsteps follow, quickly padding closer and closer, until the warmth washes over her. "Hello," Anna says, giving the other girl a chance to hear the same smile and vocal lilt presented at the end of the simple greeting. Breaths follow; steady ones that reveal nothing- unless one knows the language. Air mingles together with the feeling of the darkness to arrive soon, but neither girl takes notice, as they are thinking of themselves only, for once. The girl with the laugh keeps her eyes half-lidded open and slides down the trunk, minding her dress not catch on any bark splinters, adjusting herself gradually against the outline of the shorter girl's body, wrapping around her like a nutshell.
The hayloft is where they will meet again, always the same, when Melchior arrives. He is always the first to get there, for he knows she must carry on before dropping off to meet him. He wonders whether or not any of her friends wonder where she goes every day. Pulling out a classic, he crawls to the corner where he can lean his back against the unfinished wood. His lean body, complemented by his crisp white shirt and charcoal grey trousers, is curled in, his face etching the words that swim on the page into his mind for contemplation later. A familiar pat of flat black shoes against ladder rungs wakes him from his stupor and sets his heart to pounding. He restrains himself from leaping at Wendla as soon as her beautiful face glances around the hayloft, instead letting her fly to him. "My love," Melchior whispers as she moves her head to rest against his chest. He draws her up and begins touching her skin, tracing the contours, pressing against the smooth ridges and lines. The palm of his hand works its way into her dress to press itself against her chest, counting her heartbeat. Her skin feels hot. Or maybe it is his hand that was warmer, as though his heart itself was rushing to the surface to feel her.
Oh, the melancholy of it all. Ilse had made her way back from Priapia to where her friends stayed, where she had expected to be welcomed at least by the girls. But through and through, nobody is around to hear her… except, of course, her best memory from childhood. "Moritz?" she smiles softly, flowers in hand. The tail on her overlarge shirt barely covers her bottom half, her pale white skin seeming that much darker in comparison to the snow-white cloth buttoned up all the way. Her dark hair complements the specks of dirt that had accumulated along the edges of her garment, which she tugs to make sure nobody can see anything. He is frantic, and she tries to offer him hope of connection. "Walk as far as my house with me." She wants him to understand, she presents friendship again- perhaps something more. "I wish I could." "Then why don't you?" The sad, sleepy boy frowns, a dark look settling on his face. Denied, Ilse's face hardens and her back stiffens. Staring into the distance, she recalls the connections they had together- with the other children. But life is not like it once was, this is obvious now. She blinks her large eyes rapidly and fiercely, tilting her head to face the minutes-till-dark sky, and goes.
"Try again, that didn't sound quite right to me." Georg looks back at a heavyset boy who is sitting on the smooth stone floor with his back against the wall. Sighing, he bites back a retort involving a certain friend's mother, but stops as he places his smooth, strong fingers in the correct position on the shiny piano keys. "Fraulein Grossebustenhalter is going to have a fit if you don't learn it." "You're never going to be happy, are you, Otto? It's not as if you know how to play piano anyway," he blushes as the thought of Fraulein Grossebustenhalter creeps into his mind. Letting out a cheerful laugh, the bulkier boy tosses the playing one a crooked half-smile, winking and laughing again. "Of course, you wouldn't mind if she did, now would you?" The pianist purses his lips, coming very close to throwing something at his comrade, but instead chooses to snap back, "Shouldn't you get home? Your mother is waiting for you, isn't she?" A slow, steady grin emerges on his face as Otto instead flounders, his face flushing pink. Satisfied, Georg turns back to his piano, this time playing the tune flawlessly, turning the sheet music as he continues through to the next part, and the next. As he finishes, he invites the other to sit with him. Maybe he can learn, too.