Bella
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Post by Bella on Mar 7, 2005 0:09:03 GMT -5
"Elizabeth Malone," She said, extending her hand for a handshake. "My friends, when I have them, call me Ellie, and I'd love to go out for coffee."
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Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 7, 2005 0:09:09 GMT -5
"Fair compensation is hardly too much to ask. After all, a soldier riskes their life for the ideals that their nation stands for. Anyway," Peter rubs his injured right arm for a moment, looking up at the sky, "If some is trying to complete the Project, then it's likely that their after the Rainbow Bridge as well. I don't think I need to how dangerous that could be."
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 7, 2005 0:11:29 GMT -5
"The songs reminded me of something sad that happened a few years ago. There is so much beauty in song. A mystic once said that Hell is a place where there is no music. I don't believe in Hell, but it seems reasonable."
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Bella
Party Sympathizer
Christian/Singer
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Posts: 21
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Post by Bella on Mar 7, 2005 0:14:15 GMT -5
"I cannot imagine life without music. I think that the very earth would sing if we didn't." Mrs. Malone grabbed her things.
"Do you have any specific place in mind? There's a nice, quaint place down by where I live. We could catch the bus."
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 7, 2005 0:17:42 GMT -5
"That sounds like a fine place for coffee. And I do enjoy music. I like to sing as well, but my voice is nothing compared to yours. I don't put much effort into developing it, but would like to take voice lessons if I could find a teacher."
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Bella
Party Sympathizer
Christian/Singer
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Posts: 21
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Post by Bella on Mar 7, 2005 0:23:45 GMT -5
The two women walk outside and stand in the cool air as they wait for a bus to come and pick them up. Elizabeth Malone has no idea that this lady is with the UN or that she probably has a car waiting for her to bring her wherever she would desire. She doesn't think in this sort of way. Instead, she just stands and waits.
"I used to teach private lessons, a few years ago, but I haven't taught in awhile. I'm sure that there are some good teachers out here. I haven't had lesson's since college, and that wasn't in the area, unfortunately."
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Post by kasimir on Mar 7, 2005 0:27:02 GMT -5
Kasimir awoke in an empty warehouse outside of Munich. It had rained over night, and the smell permeated the quonset walls of the structure. All Das Ende operations had to be moved as their last base was destroyed by the Germans when they had word Kasimir was in Russia and Galtz was dead. Soon, they would have the half of the German army that wasn't busy fighting the socialists breathing down their necks. Kasimir got himself up from the musty stack of matresses that served as his bed. Frigga stood watchful over him, and handed him a cup of coffee. He took it, sipping the warm contents. She smiled slightly.
"How do you feel, Kasimir?" She asked, her tone gentle and soothing.
Kasimir looked to her and said, "Feeling... I think I'm getting tired of that word."
At that, Frigga's smile disappeared. Her tone changed to business.
"We've been contacted by a nihilist in Russia"
Before she could start, he interjected, "Suicide in Russia will prove nothing at this point, for anarchy or nihilism."
She nodded her head in agreement and said, "Normally, we would not have done anything." She sighed as she sipped her own cup of steaming coffee. "We believe there's a vast network of malcontents like us in Russia."
"You believe this man is the key to open that network to us." Kasimir said flatly.
Without any sign of agreement, Frigga continued. "Heikki Toivonen, age twenty-three." She paused to make sure he was listening. "He has been listed in permanent records as commiting many crimes against governments, and we believe that he will be a useful ally and tool for our orginization and a chance to internationalize."
Kasimir continued, "I am to meet with this man, and pursuade him to come to Germany to meet with you."
"That is correct." She responded, taking another sip of her coffee before setting it down and lighting a cigarette. "He was last spotted around Moscow."
"I will go immediately." He responded.
"There is one stipulation to this little trip, Kasimir." Frigga said, her smile returning. "I am coming with you."
"You are a liability," Kasimir said. "You are not a fighter."
"Don't bullshit me, Kasimir" She replied cooly. "You're a cold-hearted bastard, remember?"
Kasimir did not care to respond to that statement. He had no choice but to be dragged along by the very thing that everyone wanted to kill now. The leader of Das Ende. Kasimir simply took another drink from his now lukewarm coffee and looked at Frigga.
"We are leaving right away," She said to him, gripping the handle on a big suitcase. "Chaos is on our side, now." She smiled brightly. Kasimir nearly hated it when she did that. It was almost irritating.
Kasimir moved towards the door, his broken rib still ailing him. He coughed and Frigga tried to comfort him, but he turned away from her.
"I am fine." He said, his eyes turning to meet her eyes. He said it to her because he did not want her to get close. It was foolish of her to get so close.
Three quarters of an hour later they were on board a train bound for Moscow. Frigga and Kasimir shared the same compartment, but only one bed. He spent most of his time sitting silently at the bar table in the restaurant car, obliterating his thought process with absinthe until the day turned to night. He stumbled back to the compartment, and switched on the light. She layed asleep in the bed. She moaned lightly. Kasimir flicked the light back off. The absinthe was good, a Swiss variety. He felt like he was floating, like he was free and unburdened. He peeled back the covers and slipped into the bed with Frigga. She turned to him and opened her eyes.
"You're drunk, aren't you?" She asked quietly, a smile materializing on her face.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words passed his lips. He knew she could smell it. The stinging alcohol and the anise. Then, suddenly he felt her hands on his body underneath the blanket. Normally, he would have pushed her away but something made him stay. The absinthe was most likely to blame. She pulled herself on top of him, and then pressed her lips almost violently to his. He responded, suprising both her and himself. He kissed her back, letting their lips run wild. He found himself losing control and giving in to his animal instinct. He ran his lips over her neck. Her chest. Her stomach. She pulled his shirt off, and then unbuckled his pants. She slid them off with deft precision, and then she did the same to her own. Perhaps, He though, Perhaps this is the embodiment of what nihilism is at it's core.
The made love for most of the night until Kasimir passed out. Frigga fell asleep next to him, her smile brighter than ever with her arms around him tightly.
The next morning, they both clothed themselves without saying a word to each other. Kasimir spoke not one word to her. She avoided eye contact.
The rest of the journey was yet again uneventful. Frigga still did not speak one word to Kasimir, or vice versa. They hardly looked at each other, and he slept on the floor now. As they pulled into the Moscow platform, Frigga simply took her case in hand and walked off the train. Kasimir followed her, trying to keep her pace. He loathed being back in this place again, and he estimated that a good number of Russian officials wanted him dead as well as the rest of Das Ende. For now, he simply followed Frigga. He knew that she knew what Heikki looked like, and how to contact him. She began to walk towards the downtown area, where a little district of shoddy streetside cafes stood. He was sure Heikki would make himself known soon enough.
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 7, 2005 0:30:14 GMT -5
After traveling across town, we sit down in the coffee shop and I order an unflavored, unsweetened, hot black tea. It is a little out of character for me to spend time with strangers, but since I am not working at the moment, I see no problem with it.
"I wouldn't have time anyway. I keep a busy schedual and travel a lot."
I sip my tea and think of something to discuss. Outside of the United Nations, I can think of nothing to talk about.
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Post by Heikki Toivonen on Mar 7, 2005 0:40:32 GMT -5
Heikki stares at the capitalist sitting across from him, examining his features. And this, this was thought to be desireable? This embodiment of wastefulness? He should be made to suffer, Heikki thinks. How unfair it is that some suffer so deeply and others slide through life unscathed. If you are not a nihilist, then you are not living in the real world. Wealth is a cushion from reality. That is why propety and wealth are high on the list of the many things that must be destroyed.
Heikki orders a skim milk with two ice cubes. This is all he wants. Milk has some emotional meaning to him. It reminds him of dairy farms in Finland. When he is away from home he craves milk. He hates this. He hates any attachment to anything, even to milk.
He worries about the Chechens. Since he has left them, he is sure that they will come for him.
"Another rotten day." He mumbles.
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Bella
Party Sympathizer
Christian/Singer
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Posts: 21
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Post by Bella on Mar 7, 2005 0:40:56 GMT -5
Mrs. Malone orders an herbal tea, if she has caffeine she won't sleep at all during the night. She looks across the table at this strange new aquaintance.
"This may seem odd, but would you mind if I painted you? I just carry around a little water color set and a book, I like to paint when I come here, and you have a distinctively lovely face."
She takes a sip of her tea without adding any sweetener, but sets it back down abruptly as it burns her tongue and lips. She makes a face and then turns back to the woman, already she has forgotten her name, to wait for her response.
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 7, 2005 0:46:30 GMT -5
"I don't mind. Maybe when you are done, I can paint you."
I glance over her shoulder and see a coffee stained newspaper on the table behind us. My eyes wander over some of the stories on the front page. There is nothing about the terrorist attacks in Russia, but this is America, they don't care about the rest of the world here. I am sure there is some paragraph summary hidden within the folds of that paper. Tucked away well enough that it will never challenge the American nationalism I detest so greatly.
I sigh.
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Bella
Party Sympathizer
Christian/Singer
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Posts: 21
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Post by Bella on Mar 7, 2005 0:50:52 GMT -5
She opens her bag and takes out a small paint set and a spiral bound watercolor tablet. Turning to the first blank page, she dips her brush in water and begins to outline the face before her in bright blue and violet.
"I'd love to have you paint me. It isn't often that I run into someone as interested in art and music as you seem to be," she smiles, "though, it isn't often that I run into anyone."
She tries to remember the woman's name, and thinks that it might start with an L, she is generally good with first letters, but falls short of an actual name, and so doesn't call her anything.
"Well, you know what I do for a living, what is it that you do?"
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 7, 2005 0:56:01 GMT -5
Really I have learned over the years to take interest in a variety of things. It is useful in diplomacy to appear genuinely engaged in the person with whom you are speaking. In this case, I am interested in art and music, but these are just a few of many interests I have cultivated throughout my life.
"I work for the United Nations actually." I say with a smile.
Most Americans are ignorant when it comes to the workings of the United Nations. I am not shocked that she doesn't know who I am. It simply goes to show the degree of American international isolationism.
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Bella
Party Sympathizer
Christian/Singer
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Posts: 21
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Post by Bella on Mar 7, 2005 1:05:28 GMT -5
"Really? That must be very interesting." She outlines the woman's eyes, finding each crease and line. "I can't say that I know much about the UN. I had a friend in high school that wanted to work for them, she was very political. She'd always tell me about what was going on in the world around me that I didn't know about... I think she became a communist."
Mrs. Malone blows on her tea and takes a cautious sip, this time not burning herself. She sets the cup down and picks her brush back up.
"I suppose it is a fault of mine that I am not very political. I have never found much joy in following debates or certain politicians. I guess I am not a good American citizen. I just really don't think anyone has it quite right, and so I try to live my life the best way that I can, despite politicians and politics.
But you must be like my friend from high school, informed and passionate, I can see it in your eyes."
She blends in shadows around the bridge of the nose, extending to the right eye, careful not to let the paint run.
"I almost feel embarrassed saying anything about my lack of knowledge, you make me feel like I should watch the news or read the newspaper instead of just picking out the crossword puzzle."
She smiles, embarassed at having rambled on.
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 7, 2005 1:13:53 GMT -5
"No, I don't mind at all. Most Americans I meet know very little about politics and the world. Americans are interesting to me. They are such a big players in the world, but their own people are largely apathetic to the world outside their borders. I couldn't live like that. I have always been an internationalist."
I watch her work on the painting and am impressed by her work.
"I am sure you have plenty of knowledge that I don't possess. For instance, music. It is something I enjoy, but I am not well informed."
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