"Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein."
- Rammstein. Engel.
March, 1945. A sketch.
Stark darkness. The lights were all off. The city radiated out below them dark and still with pent up frustration and terror. And in the midst of this a tall column, topped with a gleaming metal statue of a winged woman with an eagle perched on her head, holding in her right hand a victory laurel, and in the other a staff topped by a wreath with an iron cross, and a spearhead-shape with another such cross and an eagle.
Upon her right shoulder sat two girls. One girl sat facing forward. She wore a white knee-length dress with green trim, black woollen socks, and hob-nailed boots. Her long dark brown hair flowed unhindered down her back. The second girl faced the other direction. Her knee-length dress was the same dark blue as her sparkling eyes. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a Dutch braid reaching just below her neck. A gold diadem sat on her head, a hexagonal star sapphire set into the forehead.
"Dawn's early," the blonde said quietly.
Bright red spread across the horizon. The other girl twisted around.
"Not the dawn. East's on fire."
The blonde sighed. The other girl turned back around.
"So," the blonde asked,."What will you do?"
"Stay."
"Stay? The army will be here soon. Russians and Poles."
"I'll be okay. First, I'm Lithuanian, you know? I can blend in."
The blonde turned her head, and regarded the other girl sceptically.
"Also, where else should I be? Sorrow, despair, anger, death ... these are emotions that sustain us, you know. Magical girls thrive in places like this."
"I'm going west. I trust the Americans more than the Russians."
The Lithuanian girl chuckled.
"Foolish."
The blonde shrugged, with a smirk.
"I could've said French, you know."
The chuckle turned into a laugh.
"Oi, that would be ... no, don't say that."
Both girls laughed. Until the sound made their hearts hurt.
They stopped.
They watched for a moment. Watched the blooming fires. Tongues of flame glitter across the darkened landscape. Bursts here and there. Morbidly beautiful at such distance.
The Lithuanian girl glanced at her blonde friend.
"Going with Greta?"
"Yeah."
"Even with what you know about her?"
She shrugged.
"We're magical girls first."
"Maybe. Maybe that attitude's why this shit happened in the first place."
"Maybe," she said quietly.
"Still. If you're going west with Greta, watch your back."
"She's never betrayed us."
"I know. Still. I hate her."
"Strong words."
"True words."
"And you never killed her."
"Look, I don't betray my partners. Even if I do hate them, and all they stand for. It's the same with the Americans and Russians. They won't come to blows when they meet at the Elbe. Maybe in a decade they will, but for now they need each other. Just like I needed that fucking Nazi bitch."
They fell silent again. In the skies far overhead was the drone of aircraft.
"She was a magical girl, you know," the blonde said.
The other girl looked at her in confusion. She hitched her thumb at the statue.
"Victoria. Winged victory."
"How do you know?"
"I mean, whenever you see one. A statue of a girl like that. It's based on a magical girl."
"Huh?"
"Angels, Valkyries, war maidens ... they're all us."
The Lithuanian girl made a dismissive sound.
"I doubt that. Us? No. God knows, I don't want to be an angel."