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Dragonfly Diary (6 / 7)

Title: Dragonfly Diary
Author: cuddlymicch
Fandom :
Original Character / Couple: Lueur d'Espoir / Hans Heidenreich
Rating: PG13
Prompt: "At five o'clock in the afternoon "
Word Count: 502 Warnings
: / /
Disclaimer: The main story where the characters are drawn was completely invented by me. Were not used characters / locations / events that are not the result of my collective imagination, except for the historical background to which I was inspired.
Table: Here


Berlin, July 17, 1943
Every day at five in the afternoon , you take a good half-hour break and bevevi your cup of black tea. It did not matter if you were with me in the middle of a meeting, if you were working or had to accomplish your tasks: first all that was sweet drink reddish.
Here, it was as if we shared quell'irrefrenabile need caffeine every two hours I pretended that I was served a cup of coffee, tea you will be satisfied.
Now that I think, was right on the five o'clock tea, we met the first time.
Timothy had complained throughout the journey, from the polygon to the barracks, would have wished for a good Italian coffee.
From that afternoon, when I assumed as a waitress, not ever you stopped to amaze me. The fights with the other soldiers, your attempts to cook breakfast, the Christmas tree that I have prepared in the office, I remember everything.
I was getting ready, before opening the door to the room they occupied every day, every sort of surprise attack, and every time I Timothy jumped on him with a bucket of water (or worse, snow), despite the reproaches in my heart I was happy to live close to your carelessness.
Never a word about the war is out of your mouth, you never let your hopes were destroyed by Russian tanks. I admire you for that.
When I was a child my father fought for Germany and, whenever he came home, there was a cockade on his uniform more. Those rosettes, however, did not have prevented from dying on the front.
When I was a soldier, my older brother was a convinced Nazi, went and returned from Berlin sporting the swastika on the uniform and the people who are perceived by him to hit bottom. That swastika, as in the case of my father, he was unable to find death in an alley when someone decided to take revenge for his misdeeds.
Now when I look in the mirror, I see only what these two men have left in this world: a boy had to grow up too fast, forced to believe in the ideals that were not his.
I wonder why, when Timothy was convinced to move with me to Berlin, I was sure that enrollment and reaching the rank My father would be able to be happy.
I've never come to that charge, but only now I realize he never needed it.
friendship with Ivan, John, that fool of Timothy, your love, not only steps to reach my goal, is something precious that jealously guards at heart.
I think I wanted to get rid of it, sometimes. Luckily no angel had the patience to listen to on those rare nights I look out the window to pray.
With this notebook I can still write a lot, unfortunately missing a few pages at the end.
when I started writing I had just turned twenty, was the birthday of the old Mary.
Who knows how he is, that good lady.