Mary Weather et lisztomania
Aug 14, 2014 16:47:35 GMT -6
Post by Mary Weather on Aug 14, 2014 16:47:35 GMT -6
Army of Two
A WWI AU feat. Matthew Williams and Julchen Beilschmidt
A WWI AU feat. Matthew Williams and Julchen Beilschmidt
This was the farthest Matthew had ever been from home. He missed his family and friends. His missed the familiar weather and his comforting room. Life hadn't always been easy. He had his ups and down, but overall life was good. Life was great even. He took a deep breath to keep himself from crying as he took in his current situation. A POW.... The word ran through his head over and over. How had this happened? He was a good soldier. He was a damn good solider. His forte was strategizing, and he had helped out on a few missions here and there. And then he got himself caught. He didn't know if he would ever see his home again. He didn't know if he would ever see his family and friends again.
"M'aide...." he muttered, knowing no one would come to his rescue. That was simply too much to hope for. "M'aide...."
Overtime, however, he got used to life here. They had put the POWs to hard work. They were starving for the most part; they were fed enough to stay alive and just that. But they were managing. Together, the POWs were managing, and somehow they had managed to keep their spirits up. They had even talked to some of the workers who were natives here. One girl in particular caught Matthew's attention: the French teacher. French was in Matthew's background, but to say he was an expert at it was a bit of an exaggeration. His parents had prodded him to learn the language and had worked on teaching him since he was little, but he was stubborn and felt no need to know it when not one of his friends spoke it.
He was regretting that now.
"Bonjour," he said, waving to the young as she walked passed. The other POWs teased him as he spoke, but he didn't let it get to him. "C-comment ça va?"
"M'aide...." he muttered, knowing no one would come to his rescue. That was simply too much to hope for. "M'aide...."
Overtime, however, he got used to life here. They had put the POWs to hard work. They were starving for the most part; they were fed enough to stay alive and just that. But they were managing. Together, the POWs were managing, and somehow they had managed to keep their spirits up. They had even talked to some of the workers who were natives here. One girl in particular caught Matthew's attention: the French teacher. French was in Matthew's background, but to say he was an expert at it was a bit of an exaggeration. His parents had prodded him to learn the language and had worked on teaching him since he was little, but he was stubborn and felt no need to know it when not one of his friends spoke it.
He was regretting that now.
"Bonjour," he said, waving to the young as she walked passed. The other POWs teased him as he spoke, but he didn't let it get to him. "C-comment ça va?"