Post by tharina on Jan 23, 2014 18:31:41 GMT -5
[[ Warning: spoilers concerning the character story of Tharina ahead - tons of them. Do not read this story If you intend to find out for yourself. ]]
"You gotta get back here, Ina."
The man who was sitting at the porch smiled down the stairs. His gleaming grey eyes had to be the most dominant facial feature. She just couldn't resist his demand. Tharina turned back and got up the stairs, the wood screeching beneath her feet with every step she took. Finally she sat down next to him. "Ignaty, why. I just want to to go out. We'll get something to eat and then I will be back. "
He smiled and his smile showed a frown. He seemed worried and up to now she hadn't seen him like that.
"Tharina, dear. It's much more difficult than you think. I promised your mother to take care of you whenever your father cannot. And one part of me tells me you should not meet this Stepan."
"What should be bad about meeting people?"
"I don't know what is wrong with that brat - but I got it in the guts. I just know."
------------
Her "uncle" prooved to be right. As always he was right. Especially when it was about people. The man whose last strings of hair were turning silvery grey, had so much to teach. And teaching was vital to survival: everyone had to contribute to the success of harvest, hunt and comfort. That was the secret of the Baumanski: those people were better communists than the goddamn red line. And they needed to be like that. Sure, sure. Baumanski: the smart savages of war aftermath, the recreators of technology, the saints. Tharina was raised with the same ideals, the same understanding of how to find, build and repair, but there comes the time when children don't believe in Santa. And these are also the times of questioning your upbringing.
And this is the time of being free and not following orders.
Tharina was good at questioning.
(Will be continued when I'm back at my house and on my PC)
"You gotta get back here, Ina."
The man who was sitting at the porch smiled down the stairs. His gleaming grey eyes had to be the most dominant facial feature. She just couldn't resist his demand. Tharina turned back and got up the stairs, the wood screeching beneath her feet with every step she took. Finally she sat down next to him. "Ignaty, why. I just want to to go out. We'll get something to eat and then I will be back. "
He smiled and his smile showed a frown. He seemed worried and up to now she hadn't seen him like that.
"Tharina, dear. It's much more difficult than you think. I promised your mother to take care of you whenever your father cannot. And one part of me tells me you should not meet this Stepan."
"What should be bad about meeting people?"
"I don't know what is wrong with that brat - but I got it in the guts. I just know."
------------
Her "uncle" prooved to be right. As always he was right. Especially when it was about people. The man whose last strings of hair were turning silvery grey, had so much to teach. And teaching was vital to survival: everyone had to contribute to the success of harvest, hunt and comfort. That was the secret of the Baumanski: those people were better communists than the goddamn red line. And they needed to be like that. Sure, sure. Baumanski: the smart savages of war aftermath, the recreators of technology, the saints. Tharina was raised with the same ideals, the same understanding of how to find, build and repair, but there comes the time when children don't believe in Santa. And these are also the times of questioning your upbringing.
And this is the time of being free and not following orders.
Tharina was good at questioning.
(Will be continued when I'm back at my house and on my PC)