Sara and Hirsch Fishblatt
"Gilda has a substantial library," Sara said with a smile. It pleased her that her son's girlfriend liked to read. "I'm sure she'd be happy for you to browse her collection. Yes, we like poetry. It rather has a way of speaking to the soul, doesn't it?"
"We've always been readers," Hirsch offered. "And we encouraged our children to..."
He stopped, worried that he had made the conversation awkward by inadvertently bringing up their lost family members. It was a rather hard subject to avoid, though. They'd had three children - suddenly, they only had one. Most conversations about the past would highlight this discrepancy.
"Isaac likes to read, too," Sara said, stepping in to cover the pause. "He always has. We weren't surprised at all when he told us he was going to be a librarian. It's the perfect job for him. Was the perfect job."
Again, they had stumbled into The Before. Sara gave Berta an apologetic smile.
False Flags (WWII setting)
Re: False Flags (WWII setting)
Berta Einsbrect
Her heart broke for theirs. Such loss she shouldn't imagine. Berta took Frau Fishblatt's hand once more and took a few moments to respond.
"You know, just because he doesn't work in a library right now doesn't mean that he isn't a librarian."
And now for the part she wasn't sure about saying. Were the Fishblatts so overcome with grief that they didn't want to talk about their children? Or were they just...trying to spare her from talking about sad things?
"And I am sure your children appreciated your care in their education. Again, I am so sorry for your loss. And I hope that one day, maybe the memories of them won't only bring you sadness."
It was something that someone had said to her, once, following her parents' funerals. Perhaps...perhaps the Fishblatts needed to know they weren't alone. That it was okay to reminisce.
"Our parents passed away several years ago now. It is still hard to think about the time past, but I find now my mind goes to the happy times we spent together instead of the last month we spent together. I know it's not the same. And I know it can't be the same losing a child as it is to lose a parent, but I pray that you will be blessed with healed hearts."
Her heart broke for theirs. Such loss she shouldn't imagine. Berta took Frau Fishblatt's hand once more and took a few moments to respond.
"You know, just because he doesn't work in a library right now doesn't mean that he isn't a librarian."
And now for the part she wasn't sure about saying. Were the Fishblatts so overcome with grief that they didn't want to talk about their children? Or were they just...trying to spare her from talking about sad things?
"And I am sure your children appreciated your care in their education. Again, I am so sorry for your loss. And I hope that one day, maybe the memories of them won't only bring you sadness."
It was something that someone had said to her, once, following her parents' funerals. Perhaps...perhaps the Fishblatts needed to know they weren't alone. That it was okay to reminisce.
"Our parents passed away several years ago now. It is still hard to think about the time past, but I find now my mind goes to the happy times we spent together instead of the last month we spent together. I know it's not the same. And I know it can't be the same losing a child as it is to lose a parent, but I pray that you will be blessed with healed hearts."
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: False Flags (WWII setting)
Hirsch and Sara Fishblatt
"Thank you, dear," Sara said. "Your words are very kind. I am so sorry to hear of the loss of your own parents. That is difficult - no matter the circumstances."
Hirsch nodded. He had teared up a bit, and he needed to collect himself a bit before he could do more than nod.
"I think it helps to share the memories," Sara said. "It keeps them alive for us, in a way."
"What were your parents like?" Hirsch asked. "I'm sure you have beautiful memories of them, too."
"Thank you, dear," Sara said. "Your words are very kind. I am so sorry to hear of the loss of your own parents. That is difficult - no matter the circumstances."
Hirsch nodded. He had teared up a bit, and he needed to collect himself a bit before he could do more than nod.
"I think it helps to share the memories," Sara said. "It keeps them alive for us, in a way."
"What were your parents like?" Hirsch asked. "I'm sure you have beautiful memories of them, too."
Re: False Flags (WWII setting)
Berta Einsbrect
It was when Herr Fishblatt asked his question that she realized it had been a very long time since she'd spoken to anyone about her parents. At home, no one wanted to talk about sad things. Gerhard was rarely around and he didn't often talk about the past in his letters, either.
"Keeping them alive by sharing memories...that sounds lovely." Her words were a bit breathy, but the gained in strength as she chose a story to tell.
"There used to be a lot of dances in my village. Everyone would show up from miles around - our neighbour's barn would be swept clean, and the musicians would play in the loft so that the whole floor could be for the dancers. They often went very late so I wasn't allowed to go until I was older. The first time I went, I sat outside the big doors and just watched everyone. Until I saw my parents. I didn't know that they could dance - and dance so beautifully. When I saw them, it was like there was no one else in the world but the two of them. That is how I will always remember them - very much in love, even though they'd been together for a long time and faced so many tragedies...they were still in love."
While the Fishblatts may have wondered how long Berta had been in a chair, the story may have given them some indication that this physical impediment was not something new. Though perhaps they'd guessed it by the way the girl hardly seemed to notice that she had wheels for feet as her gaze drifted off to another time and another place, her body swaying to silent music. Presently, she came to herself and blushed lightly.
"What about you? Where did you live? Was there dancing in your hometown? Music?"
It was when Herr Fishblatt asked his question that she realized it had been a very long time since she'd spoken to anyone about her parents. At home, no one wanted to talk about sad things. Gerhard was rarely around and he didn't often talk about the past in his letters, either.
"Keeping them alive by sharing memories...that sounds lovely." Her words were a bit breathy, but the gained in strength as she chose a story to tell.
"There used to be a lot of dances in my village. Everyone would show up from miles around - our neighbour's barn would be swept clean, and the musicians would play in the loft so that the whole floor could be for the dancers. They often went very late so I wasn't allowed to go until I was older. The first time I went, I sat outside the big doors and just watched everyone. Until I saw my parents. I didn't know that they could dance - and dance so beautifully. When I saw them, it was like there was no one else in the world but the two of them. That is how I will always remember them - very much in love, even though they'd been together for a long time and faced so many tragedies...they were still in love."
While the Fishblatts may have wondered how long Berta had been in a chair, the story may have given them some indication that this physical impediment was not something new. Though perhaps they'd guessed it by the way the girl hardly seemed to notice that she had wheels for feet as her gaze drifted off to another time and another place, her body swaying to silent music. Presently, she came to herself and blushed lightly.
"What about you? Where did you live? Was there dancing in your hometown? Music?"
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: False Flags (WWII setting)
Hirsch and Sara Fishblatt
"Oh, yes!" Sara replied enthusiastically. "We lived in Hamburg. There was always music in our neighborhood. Hirsch plays the violin, and I sing a little - but not like Isaac. You should ask him to sing for you sometime. He has a lovely voice."
"Our children used to put on little plays," Hirsch said with a smile. "The three of them would put so much work into their productions. They could be quite... whimsical. But always entertaining."
This was a happy memory, and there was pleasant nostalgia in the voices of the Fishblatts as they spoke of those times. It made their lost family seem almost present again, the echo of their voices still raised in merriment. It was good to be able to talk about the good times again, after so much pain and loss.
"Oh, yes!" Sara replied enthusiastically. "We lived in Hamburg. There was always music in our neighborhood. Hirsch plays the violin, and I sing a little - but not like Isaac. You should ask him to sing for you sometime. He has a lovely voice."
"Our children used to put on little plays," Hirsch said with a smile. "The three of them would put so much work into their productions. They could be quite... whimsical. But always entertaining."
This was a happy memory, and there was pleasant nostalgia in the voices of the Fishblatts as they spoke of those times. It made their lost family seem almost present again, the echo of their voices still raised in merriment. It was good to be able to talk about the good times again, after so much pain and loss.
Re: False Flags (WWII setting)
Berta Einsbrect
Having a little peek into their lives before...everything...it was so beautiful. She felt like she was being given a treasure. In a way, she was. They were sharing what they considered to be treasure with her by telling her these wonderful things about their children. Berta mentally promised them that she'd cherish this moments in her heart. Should they grow old and forget, she'd remember and tell them.
"I always loved listening to the organ at church. I wanted to learn to play, but, well, I suppose I just didn't get around to it." How quickly things could turn sad. She hurried on. "Haven't gotten around to it - yet. But I do hope to hear you play the fiddle someday, Herr Fishblatt - and hear you and Isaac sing! There is nothing quite like music, is there? It does so many things - it brings up memories, cheers you up, carries your burdens - music makes life lovely."
She stopped just short of suggesting a radio - the radio hadn't played music for many months now. So much for that thought. It was strange how isolated they'd all become, despite the surge of nationalism. Berta had struggled deeply with feeling alone for the last few years and it seemed that she wouldn't be free of that feeling for some time yet. She looked at the door and sighed. Gerhard. Her only remaining family and he felt like a stranger.
Having a little peek into their lives before...everything...it was so beautiful. She felt like she was being given a treasure. In a way, she was. They were sharing what they considered to be treasure with her by telling her these wonderful things about their children. Berta mentally promised them that she'd cherish this moments in her heart. Should they grow old and forget, she'd remember and tell them.
"I always loved listening to the organ at church. I wanted to learn to play, but, well, I suppose I just didn't get around to it." How quickly things could turn sad. She hurried on. "Haven't gotten around to it - yet. But I do hope to hear you play the fiddle someday, Herr Fishblatt - and hear you and Isaac sing! There is nothing quite like music, is there? It does so many things - it brings up memories, cheers you up, carries your burdens - music makes life lovely."
She stopped just short of suggesting a radio - the radio hadn't played music for many months now. So much for that thought. It was strange how isolated they'd all become, despite the surge of nationalism. Berta had struggled deeply with feeling alone for the last few years and it seemed that she wouldn't be free of that feeling for some time yet. She looked at the door and sighed. Gerhard. Her only remaining family and he felt like a stranger.
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: False Flags (WWII setting)
"There is still time," Hirsch said with a smile. "For music. For learning all the things you want to learn."
"Someday," Sara said. "When things are better."
It was a simple thing - but a huge step. It seemed so long that they had been focused on survival. On loss. Those things were still there. But there were glimmers of hope, too. Perhaps there was a life beyond the present sorrows.
Isaac and Gilda returned, and joined Berta and Isaac's parents in the living room. As they walked, Isaac leaned on Gilda's arm for support - but then when they sat down on the couch, he kept her hand in his. Gilda beamed, and blushed. How could a man make her feel this way just by holding her hand? She was giddy with it. She was... falling in love.
That thought worried her. It was too soon to love him. If he knew, he would think she was crazy. She would keep that thought to herself.
Isaac seemed to enjoy holding her hand, though, as much as she enjoyed holding his. When she glanced over at his parents, they were smiling too. Could it be that they approved?
Gilda realized that as well as falling in love with Isaac, she was starting to love his whole family.
"Someday," Sara said. "When things are better."
It was a simple thing - but a huge step. It seemed so long that they had been focused on survival. On loss. Those things were still there. But there were glimmers of hope, too. Perhaps there was a life beyond the present sorrows.
Isaac and Gilda returned, and joined Berta and Isaac's parents in the living room. As they walked, Isaac leaned on Gilda's arm for support - but then when they sat down on the couch, he kept her hand in his. Gilda beamed, and blushed. How could a man make her feel this way just by holding her hand? She was giddy with it. She was... falling in love.
That thought worried her. It was too soon to love him. If he knew, he would think she was crazy. She would keep that thought to herself.
Isaac seemed to enjoy holding her hand, though, as much as she enjoyed holding his. When she glanced over at his parents, they were smiling too. Could it be that they approved?
Gilda realized that as well as falling in love with Isaac, she was starting to love his whole family.
Re: False Flags (WWII setting)
Gerhard Einsbrect
The drive to town and the mundane task of grocery shopping had a calming effect. Even with the added stress of making less than legal purchases, the common-ness of it all settled his racing mind and placed him back on a path he knew. One that was rife with regimen and plain living. The simple life he had never deviated from, even when he moved from his small country village to the big city. It was simplicity that he strove for.
So why did complications continually plague him? Was it punishment for something he'd done? A sort of game of antithesis with a higher power pulling his strings one way while his heart went another? It would be easy to accept these and other ideas of a lack of fairness in the world, himself a mere victim of fate. Too easy. Which was why he couldn't accept them.
It was easier to accept that these things - these complications - simply were. It was up to him to also simply be - whether it was in spite or acceptance of didn't matter so much. He was here and these things were happening. He mightaswell face the facts.
Of course, he wasn't quite ready to face all of the facts. Certainly, he could heal from injuries at an alarming rate, but that didn't mean he was simply going to take the idea that werewolves existed and swallow it whole. Though, that night in the cellar of the hospital...what he saw Gilda do...there were things in this world that he'd seen that he couldn't explain. So perhaps his idea of what could be a fact needed to change to encompass these things too. Yes, he would have to talk to Isaac again now that he was less...emotional.
Berta Einsbrect
Her heart warmed with the Fishblatts' encouragement - and with the idea that things would indeed be better someday. Someday couldn't be too far away, surely. She nodded happily and helped herself to another cup of tea as Gilda and Isaac returned to the sitting room. They were very cute together, she thought. The librarian and the spy. It sounded more like a novel than real life, she thought, but yet here they were. Beautiful.
Berta opened her mouth, but took a sip of tea instead when she realized she wasn't entirely certain what she was going to say. She couldn't very well ask Gilda about her job - what she did for the Resistance was probably top secret - but she did wonder what she did for a living. Of course, these days, that sort of a question might not have an answer one wanted to hear. Gerhard had little use for his role ... it was likely that Gilda fell under the same state. So, what then?
"The gardens look lovely. I saw them when we pulled in. Did you plant all those flowers yourself?"
The question was asked innocently, the house having looked welcoming and lived in by the time of her arrival there.
The drive to town and the mundane task of grocery shopping had a calming effect. Even with the added stress of making less than legal purchases, the common-ness of it all settled his racing mind and placed him back on a path he knew. One that was rife with regimen and plain living. The simple life he had never deviated from, even when he moved from his small country village to the big city. It was simplicity that he strove for.
So why did complications continually plague him? Was it punishment for something he'd done? A sort of game of antithesis with a higher power pulling his strings one way while his heart went another? It would be easy to accept these and other ideas of a lack of fairness in the world, himself a mere victim of fate. Too easy. Which was why he couldn't accept them.
It was easier to accept that these things - these complications - simply were. It was up to him to also simply be - whether it was in spite or acceptance of didn't matter so much. He was here and these things were happening. He mightaswell face the facts.
Of course, he wasn't quite ready to face all of the facts. Certainly, he could heal from injuries at an alarming rate, but that didn't mean he was simply going to take the idea that werewolves existed and swallow it whole. Though, that night in the cellar of the hospital...what he saw Gilda do...there were things in this world that he'd seen that he couldn't explain. So perhaps his idea of what could be a fact needed to change to encompass these things too. Yes, he would have to talk to Isaac again now that he was less...emotional.
Berta Einsbrect
Her heart warmed with the Fishblatts' encouragement - and with the idea that things would indeed be better someday. Someday couldn't be too far away, surely. She nodded happily and helped herself to another cup of tea as Gilda and Isaac returned to the sitting room. They were very cute together, she thought. The librarian and the spy. It sounded more like a novel than real life, she thought, but yet here they were. Beautiful.
Berta opened her mouth, but took a sip of tea instead when she realized she wasn't entirely certain what she was going to say. She couldn't very well ask Gilda about her job - what she did for the Resistance was probably top secret - but she did wonder what she did for a living. Of course, these days, that sort of a question might not have an answer one wanted to hear. Gerhard had little use for his role ... it was likely that Gilda fell under the same state. So, what then?
"The gardens look lovely. I saw them when we pulled in. Did you plant all those flowers yourself?"
The question was asked innocently, the house having looked welcoming and lived in by the time of her arrival there.
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: False Flags (WWII setting)
Gilda Engel
The pause was just a beat too long, and Sara glanced over at Gilda with concern - but Gilda had recovered, and had pasted a calm smile on her face.
"Some of them," Gilda replied. "I lived in this house for a little while when I was a child. My foster family - the owners of the house - started the garden. They tended it so carefully. I've done my best to carry on the tradition."
It was the least I could do, after blowing up their lives... Gilda thought with a stab of guilt. Maintaining a garden would never make up for the destruction of a family.
The pause was just a beat too long, and Sara glanced over at Gilda with concern - but Gilda had recovered, and had pasted a calm smile on her face.
"Some of them," Gilda replied. "I lived in this house for a little while when I was a child. My foster family - the owners of the house - started the garden. They tended it so carefully. I've done my best to carry on the tradition."
It was the least I could do, after blowing up their lives... Gilda thought with a stab of guilt. Maintaining a garden would never make up for the destruction of a family.
Re: False Flags (WWII setting)
Berta Einsbrect
She'd stepped in it. She wasn't quite sure how, but the fact that she'd just asked an awkward question was painfully clear. Gilda's answer...did little to inform her. Though, she supposed that perhaps things had not worked out so well with the foster family. Perhaps...perhaps Gilda didn't really like being here at all, but had put in the effort to provide the Fishblatts with a place to stay - and her as well, of course. Berta didn't know for certain, so she set out with what she did know and hoped for the best.
"Well, I think you've done a very nice job. You must have a green thumb!" She paused, then added, "May I try to help with it a little bit - while you're away? I used to help my mother with our vegetable garden, but I don't have much experience with flowers."
Her mother had been rather overly practical in this respect, Berta thought. Flowers weren't useless, after all. They brought joy that was somehow different from seeing a ripe tomato on the vine. Maybe it was frivolity, maybe not. She had always had the feeling that there was more to life than just existing and flowers simultaneously agreed and disagreed with that sentiment.
She'd stepped in it. She wasn't quite sure how, but the fact that she'd just asked an awkward question was painfully clear. Gilda's answer...did little to inform her. Though, she supposed that perhaps things had not worked out so well with the foster family. Perhaps...perhaps Gilda didn't really like being here at all, but had put in the effort to provide the Fishblatts with a place to stay - and her as well, of course. Berta didn't know for certain, so she set out with what she did know and hoped for the best.
"Well, I think you've done a very nice job. You must have a green thumb!" She paused, then added, "May I try to help with it a little bit - while you're away? I used to help my mother with our vegetable garden, but I don't have much experience with flowers."
Her mother had been rather overly practical in this respect, Berta thought. Flowers weren't useless, after all. They brought joy that was somehow different from seeing a ripe tomato on the vine. Maybe it was frivolity, maybe not. She had always had the feeling that there was more to life than just existing and flowers simultaneously agreed and disagreed with that sentiment.