Fanfiction → Der Tragödie erster Teil {Prussia & Hungary}
» Musings on life and dealing with the devil. This will probably make no sense unless you have a vague knowledge of the Mitte district of central Berlin.
» One-shot
» Prussia ; Hungary
» PG-13
“Such an enamoured fool would puff and blow,
Sun, moon, and stars into thin air,
Just as a pastime for his lady fair.”
- Mephistopheles, Faust
He didn’t understand anymore.
He didn’t understand all these feelings. If he was younger, he might have turned it into a joke: told Hungary that it was that time of the month just to see her reaction. Would she be furious or vaguely amused?
Gilbert opened the window of his small, inner city apartment and looked down at the busy street. It was full, predictably, of stressed commuters on their way to work for the day. He could almost imagine his brother in that mess - trying so hard not to show his annoyance, eyebrow twitching.
He let out a laugh at that.
The phone had rang, earlier; some telemarketer who he’d let prattle on and on about some new exercise bike before casually hanging up. He hadn’t said a word the entire call.
There was an odd weight in his pocket - pulling out a card, he read the words: lunch at one, kay? alexanderplatz.
Oh, right.
He left the house at exactly quarter to twelve, forgetting both to bring his mobile phone and to lock the door.
The Brandenburg Gate stood proudly as he passed underneath its columns, almost walking into a group of Canadian tourists and then, surprisingly, deciding that a Japanese family deserved the honour of his photography skills. There were construction men around it though, and Gilbert couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of their metal fences and trucks. What bad luck: to come here on holiday and then have your picture ruined by a man in a hardhat.
He walked quickly down Unter den Linden, ignoring the tourists, ignoring the locals, ignoring the leaves that floated down upon the breeze and landed in his hair. He reached for his phone to check the time, and cursed as he realised it wasn’t with him. His gaze landed on two pretty Asian girls, wearing knitted woollen berets and short skirts. They gave him shy smiles, before breaking out into pearly laughter that showed the whites of their teeth. He begrudgingly asked the time, they replied in stilted German, and he went on his way.
Soon enough, he found himself walking past the river, Museumsinsel to his left. There were young men and women everywhere, riding their bikes in pretty floral dresses or laying down in the grass. He stopped to watch a couple kiss chastely, their fingers intertwining.
How wonderful it would be to be young. Your deepest worries only simple matters of love, of new feelings, and of excitement. To have your whole future in front of you.
On Museum Island he almost ran into a group of giggly students, taking pictures and posing in the most ludicrous fashions. They noticed him, and waved almost seductively. Gilbert started, before forgetting that his age was only apparent in his soul. His body could have belonged to one of those students; taking pictures in front of museums, writing papers for college, making love under the trees in a quiet park to someone who swore they would love you until the sky came crashing down.
He didn’t glance at the impressive buildings as he crossed the island. He’d never been in them; didn’t need to. He had seen and breathed their history through his own eyes.
Gilbert passed the Fernsehturm, turned into Alexanderplatz, and reached the café where she was waiting.
She glanced up at him briefly, before looking down at her watch and commenting dryly, "five to one."
He took her hand gently; she stood up and kissed him on the cheek.
And as they ate, he stirred the sugar into his coffee and ignored the ticking of the world clock behind him.
“Long life to him who bravely dares!
At other times you've been of quite a devilish mind.
Naught more absurd in this world can I find
Than is a devil who despairs.”
- Mephistopheles, Faust
» I don’t know what this is about. I really don’t. Maybe you could tell me?
» One-shot
» Prussia ; Hungary
» PG-13
“Such an enamoured fool would puff and blow,
Sun, moon, and stars into thin air,
Just as a pastime for his lady fair.”
- Mephistopheles, Faust
He didn’t understand anymore.
He didn’t understand all these feelings. If he was younger, he might have turned it into a joke: told Hungary that it was that time of the month just to see her reaction. Would she be furious or vaguely amused?
Gilbert opened the window of his small, inner city apartment and looked down at the busy street. It was full, predictably, of stressed commuters on their way to work for the day. He could almost imagine his brother in that mess - trying so hard not to show his annoyance, eyebrow twitching.
He let out a laugh at that.
The phone had rang, earlier; some telemarketer who he’d let prattle on and on about some new exercise bike before casually hanging up. He hadn’t said a word the entire call.
There was an odd weight in his pocket - pulling out a card, he read the words: lunch at one, kay? alexanderplatz.
Oh, right.
He left the house at exactly quarter to twelve, forgetting both to bring his mobile phone and to lock the door.
The Brandenburg Gate stood proudly as he passed underneath its columns, almost walking into a group of Canadian tourists and then, surprisingly, deciding that a Japanese family deserved the honour of his photography skills. There were construction men around it though, and Gilbert couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of their metal fences and trucks. What bad luck: to come here on holiday and then have your picture ruined by a man in a hardhat.
He walked quickly down Unter den Linden, ignoring the tourists, ignoring the locals, ignoring the leaves that floated down upon the breeze and landed in his hair. He reached for his phone to check the time, and cursed as he realised it wasn’t with him. His gaze landed on two pretty Asian girls, wearing knitted woollen berets and short skirts. They gave him shy smiles, before breaking out into pearly laughter that showed the whites of their teeth. He begrudgingly asked the time, they replied in stilted German, and he went on his way.
Soon enough, he found himself walking past the river, Museumsinsel to his left. There were young men and women everywhere, riding their bikes in pretty floral dresses or laying down in the grass. He stopped to watch a couple kiss chastely, their fingers intertwining.
How wonderful it would be to be young. Your deepest worries only simple matters of love, of new feelings, and of excitement. To have your whole future in front of you.
On Museum Island he almost ran into a group of giggly students, taking pictures and posing in the most ludicrous fashions. They noticed him, and waved almost seductively. Gilbert started, before forgetting that his age was only apparent in his soul. His body could have belonged to one of those students; taking pictures in front of museums, writing papers for college, making love under the trees in a quiet park to someone who swore they would love you until the sky came crashing down.
He didn’t glance at the impressive buildings as he crossed the island. He’d never been in them; didn’t need to. He had seen and breathed their history through his own eyes.
Gilbert passed the Fernsehturm, turned into Alexanderplatz, and reached the café where she was waiting.
She glanced up at him briefly, before looking down at her watch and commenting dryly, "five to one."
He took her hand gently; she stood up and kissed him on the cheek.
And as they ate, he stirred the sugar into his coffee and ignored the ticking of the world clock behind him.
“Long life to him who bravely dares!
At other times you've been of quite a devilish mind.
Naught more absurd in this world can I find
Than is a devil who despairs.”
- Mephistopheles, Faust
» I don’t know what this is about. I really don’t. Maybe you could tell me?