Calando: falling away, or lowering; i.e., getting slower and quieter; ritardando along with diminuendo
Finally, after what seemed like days, Natalya's lunch break arrived. Though, as she headed down the stairs into the main foyer of the office, she was not on her way to find something to eat. She was on a mission that was much more important. The crowd of people walking along the street was easy to get swept up in. But a certain group of people stood out among everyone else. Their red arm bands still managed to send a wave of fear through her every moment her eyes caught sight of them. She could feel their eyes watching, probing… they were searching every person that passed, not interested in humanity. Only insanity.
Breathing a sigh of relief as she rounded the corner into an alleyway, she passed Nikolai with a simple connection of their gazes. He was a part of the operation being run by the Soviets; one of her cousins. He was dressed as an SS officer, expression so convincing that she assumed no one would dream of questioning him. The alleyway looked the same as the last time she had been here; like it was straight out of her nightmares. What if her brother wasn't waiting for her at the end of the long expanse of the cement walkway? What if she were slowly walking to her death? But as soon as she grew close enough to see the blonde hair upon the Russian's head, she knew she was safe.
"What do you have?" He snapped, voice hushed, though they both knew they were completely alone. Obviously, his patience had died with her lack of success. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a few folded documents, that she had sketched out from memory.
"These contain dates, names and official orders I thought you might find interesting," she informed him, feeling her charade falling as she studied his face. Although she had to crane her neck slightly to see him, she enjoyed the view. He comforted her, with his strong expression. He would always protect her, always love her, always be there for her…
As he studied them in silence, she watched his face anxiously, feeling like she was a child again, hoping for praise from her older sibling. However, he silently folded the papers once more and slid them into his jacket, expression not what she had hoped.
"This… This is all you get me after weeks in Germany? Not only in Germany but in the middle of the Reich?" He demanded, tone so quiet it was worse than if he had been yelling.
"It's had been difficult, braht… I-I have been adjusting and…" She was cut off by a hand over her mouth, his gloved fingers digging into her jaw. She felt her eyes sting, begging her to let them release the tears that were threatening to escape. Instead, she stared straight at him, waiting for whatever he had to say.
"You will not give me excuses. You will give me what I want. Do you understand, Natalya? I chose you to do this, not because you are my syestra, but because you promised me you would not fail."
Taking a small breath, she nodded the best she could, her own fists clenching at her sides. Seeming pleased with her agreement, he let go, eyes still staring straight into her own. "Good… Very good," he said quietly, his gaze breaking for a moment as he closed his eyes, letting out a small exhale.
As much as she hated to admit it, she knew her brother was losing his sanity. He was slipping away from her and there was nothing she could do. He would never let her help him, let alone get near to him. For a moment, she wanted to tell him about the social dinner. For a moment, she wanted to confess how nervous she was. But she knew she could never tell him. Instead, she bowed her head as she gave him a quiet departure and turned on her heel before he could protest. The sound of her heels clicking against the pavement echoed as she left, leaving Ivan standing in the dimly lit alley, his expression impossible to read.
When Natalya arrived back to work, she made sure that she would be busy all day. Her mental sanity couldn't handle another hit today. She was strong, yes. But she was also still a little girl. She had never had a chance to experience a childhood. Her innocence had been ripped from her hands before she knew how to walk. In her family, she had been born into this life of deception and ill intent. Sometimes she wished she had been born into a normal family. A different family. But then she would remember her sweet brother…That was the only thing that made her life bearable. Finally and thankfully, the end of the day came.
Before either of the Beilschmidt men could converse with her, she threw on her jacket and rushed into the rainy, wet streets of Berlin. The cab she caught took her to her small apartment quickly. She was too tired to even notice the man's prying eyes as she paid him. In a matter of minutes, she had unlocked her door and shed her coat, shaking the rain from her hair. It seemed to only have one weather pattern lately in the German city – rain. Somehow, she cursed it. It seemed even the natural weather was out to make her depressed. Sighing, she ran a hand over her face, all the day's strains exhaled with a small breath.
Glancing at the clock, she realized that she only had a limited amount of time to ready herself for the unwanted dinner. The lighting has become different… It was the only explanation as to why she seemed so pale. And since when had she become this thin? As she undressed, she realized she was on the last hole in her belt. Letting her hair fall from the bun it had been captured in, she studied herself in the mirror, her eyes narrowing with each inspection. She looked different. Less like herself with each day. Nazi Germany was changing her… Morphing her into a monster. Yet, she felt no different on the inside. Was this how everyone saw her? A cold, heartless secretary?
As she stepped into the shower, she couldn't help but to scoff. No wonder Gilbert had asked her to join him this evening for a social dinner. She suited him now. As a prize on his arm. A pawn in the grand scheme of the Reich. Forcing the thoughts from her mind, she allowed herself to relax as the water massaged away her worries. It was nice to simply relax for a few minutes... to not worry.
In fact, the whole time she spent getting ready was bliss. She focused on the simple, mundane tasks with a bit too much enjoyment. It was only when she was completely dressed, staring at her reflection in the hall mirror did her thoughts fall back into their usual pattern. A glance at the clock told her it was two minutes before Herr Beilschmidt was to arrive. Why was she nervous? He was no simpler than a fly, that she could swat away with a flick of her wrist.
And yet, when the telltale sound of the car door slamming pulled her from her thoughts, she still jumped. Why did her heart catch in her throat? Because she was weak. That was what she told herself anyway, as she pulled herself together. Her face became icy and her exterior was cold once more. The knock on the door changed nothing.
As she opened the door, she wasn't sure what she had been expecting. Gilbert himself to be standing there? Nonetheless, she was still surprised to see a young member of the Nazi party – a hilter jugden. The young blond lifted his hand in a heil before he nodded at her, stepping aside obediently to wait for her to exit.
"You've come to collect me then?" She questioned under her breath, feeling sick to her stomach. How could they recruit young men like himself? Their lives were just beginning and little did they know, would be ending sooner than they got their armbands. Though, instead of scowling at him, she gave her best 'perfect woman' smile and stepped outside of her apartment, locking the door behind her. She followed behind the young soldier, her heels clicking against the floor, in time with his rhythmic marching.
As they stepped out into the rain, she was grateful for at least one thing – it had stopped raining as hard. Now, it was only a simple spattering of droplets. Nothing compared to the downpour she had been greeted with earlier in the day. Without missing a beat, the soldier drew an umbrella out, holding it above her head as they descended the steps. As she nodded in thanks to him, she took another deep breath, before he gaze fell on the car.
Gilbert was standing, with the door open, that arrogant smirk placed on his lips. Suddenly, she regretted the fact that she had put a little effort into looking nice this evening. She was wearing a simple black dress, with a brown shrug and a pearl necklace – but even that seemed like she was giving the German before her too much satisfaction. It made her sick. Not returning his smile, she simply nodded and took his outstretched hand, allowing him to help her into the military car.
Adjusting in her seat, she sent a silent prayer up to whatever God was listening that she would survive tonight. Gilbert slid in beside her, slamming the car door shut, silencing the rain to a faint beat against the roof above them. "You look nice, Fraulein," he commented, though his tone was far from flattering. It was almost patronizing. Prying. A quick glance over to meet his gaze confirmed her suspicions – his eyes were watching her closely, like a predator. Not a charming gentleman.
"Danke," she replied, though her voice came out as a faint whisper, not the strong and confident voice she had pictured. Turning her head, she swallowed thickly, masking it by clearing her throat. If this was how Herr Beilschmidt was going to be the whole night, she doubted she would survive.