Cold air billowed past the creaking door, as a slender hand hesitantly pushed it open. She drifted into a warm corner of the musky bar, somewhere the smell of alcohol and tobacco did not reach.
The bartender looked warily at her unkempt clothes, as she passed him a few marks for a drink.
How long has it been, she had often wondered. She had lost her drive. Perhaps wasting away for inevitable end wouldn't be too bad, better here where it's warm than in a cold alley.
Her thoughts stopped as a man stood on the podium. The entertainment. Her attention garnered when the man spoke.
She had listened, due to boredom at first, it evolved into interest, then curiosity.
His cool tone and tempo drew her in, as it gradually intensified to a crescendo of fervour. She found it . . . resonating.
The man spoke of ideals, of determination, to overcome the struggle and stand undefeated. And when he stopped, the bar was silent.
His charisma, the sheer force of personality felt all too familiar. She had to meet him.
Dawn filtered out the patrons, most walking in a daze. She screened the tables until she saw him, alone.
She stood of to the side and greeted him.
The man looked surprised, and turned to her, "I apologize, could you repeat that?"
She continued in stilted german instead, "I. . . liked speech. You... name?"
He winced at her limited vocabulary, yet replied politely nonetheless, "Thank you miss..."
She pondered, then spoke in a heartbeat, "Esdeath."
The man gave a smile as he gestured to an empty seat, "My name is Adolf Hitler, care to join me?"
«Esdeath of the German Front»
«Prologue»
Death is difficult to swallow. Perhaps the cold part of logic in the back of our minds vehemently deny it, rejecting the every possibility to the point of delusion.
Maybe that's why. . . she was still alive? She never was this poetic.
"Поздравления! Она красивая."
She was hearing nonsense, it brought forth uncomfortable memories of a fever dream; the only one she had.
It happened when she first tamed her Imperial Arms. She had put up a strong front, all signs of weakness must be purged. Alas, the crash as she slept was absolutely horrific.
Damn it all, she was too tired to think straight. Like the time she had hunted the last of her tribe's murderers- enough.
Everything will be alright...
When morning comes.
I'm okay.
