Chapter Text
“No, no, you’re overexaggerating the proportions.”
A surgeon hurriedly remarked, observing the many ‘practice’ drawings the ranker had scribbled in hopes to learn how to get better. His shako was off to the side, the badge reflecting the lantern’s warm glow ever so slightly.
“..It looks weird if the ears are that small though.” He twisted the pencil in his hand, staring intently at his work. “I just don’t get how you do it so flawlessly,” The ranker let out a sigh, leaning his back against the wall, momentarily shutting his eyes.
The city of Leipzig was bound to fall, the dead continued to rise from the graves, a seemingly never-ending cycle of blood and restless nights. The ranker had often excused himself while on break to see the French surgeon, not because he was injured but perhaps he appreciated his presence.
“Here, give the pencil to me.” The redcoat gestured towards the notebook, glancing up at the other. The ranker reopened his eyes slowly, jolting when he had realised how close the two were. The ranker stared obliviously at the surgeon, an awkward silence hung loose between them.
“...”
“Conrad… Are you going to give me the pencil?” The surgeon elbowed his friend softly, earning a yelp.
“Yes… apologies.” The Prussian’s gaze briefly wandered the surgeon’s body, taking in specific details. He was quite well built despite the ration on food.. Perhaps he had a wife waiting back home, though, with those steady hands he’d imagine she’d be quite lonely right about now. He had never gotten the chance to get engaged, always outside, doing whatever he pleased— it didn't make quite the greatest impression on women. He never understood how someone could become so irrational for love, for a fleeting feeling of urgency and need. Why spend his days chasing a woman, one significant figure to form a life around? Perhaps he was simply just lost.
Each love story he caught wind of through details in conversations seemed flawed or unappealing to him. It seemed like an irrational mess of feelings, that didn’t seem like something he’d want… Or perhaps it would be the vulnerability behind it?
“And there you have it, gentlemen, a dog!”
Conrad blinked, snapping out of his thoughts as his friend set down the pencil gently. It was a spectacular drawing with great detail, something the Ranker couldn't even begin to challenge. “See how after you finish the rest of the head the ears don't look as small anymore? You ought to stop doubting yourself.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Lighten up, my friend. Our situation may not be fortunate but the war has ceased for the time being.”
“It’s just been too.. Quiet. It doesn’t feel right, Alois.” The ranker spoke quietly, glancing over the makeshift camp everyone had worked to set up. Who knew when the next time anyone would come to ‘rescue’ them be? “Our whole trip through this damned city had been nothing short of chaos and now we have all this silence!” He raised his voice, hands tearing up a handful of dry grass.
The ranker let out a shaky breath, mind occupied with the gruesome images of his comrades’ janky lunges, flesh half torn off their bodies, skin hung loosely like rags. He didn't know what was worse; watching the vermin of hell possess your passed soldiers or having bodies dropping left and right, painting coarse dirt and endless fields with a thick, glossy red. Conrad released his grip on the torn-up blades of grass, watching them scatter in his palm before brushing them off.
“I understand what you mean— but our options are only so limited...” The French man let out a chuckle, inching towards Conrad, “...If this was the father's plan, to make us face our own kind, even down to the same uniform– Praying has no use.” His voice lowered to barely above a whisper, eyes sunken with guilt. He was not the only one. Many men had stopped praying, relying purely on morales, fighting for even the slimmest hopes of peace. The blight continued to rise in masses that had outnumbered hundreds of men, it was really an unruly horror.
The two men sat in silence, an unspoken understanding between the two. The Prussian unhooked a canister from his waist, flipping the lid open with a ‘pop!’. He brought it up to his lips cautiously, taking a large swig before resting his hand in his lap, the alcohol burning on the way down, warmth spreading in lasting embers. He lifted the canister, offering some to his friend— who declined politely.
The silence once again flooded in place of words.. It was heavy and uncomfortable.
“...Alois.”
“hm?”
“If I.. If I ever were to succumb to the blight,” The Prussian paused, his eyebrows furrowing.
“Would you slay me, to put an end to my suffrage— or would you run?”
The surgeon’s hands which had been busy rubbing the smooth leather cover of the notebook paused, his jaw tightening.
“I’d rather-”
“You know well that you cannot afford to stay with me, not with your occupation.” Conrad’s voice dropped to a whisper, his chest tightening in an odd way. Had he ever felt this tense before? Could he even call it tension? It was a stupid question, what he asked… he wouldn’t mind the outcome either way, no one could ask a friend to draw a blade to their neck and expect him to swipe it clean off without hesitation, only a maniac could.
Yet something in him ached for an answer that wasn’t perfect, or expectant. An answer that was human enough to empathise, to sing with uncertainty.
He returned his gaze to Alois, of whom, had his head tilted back, eyes half-lidded. The notebook now lay closed between the two. Had he expected too much from the Surgeon?
“..I apologise for the strange question, could I suggest we change-”
“I’d stay as long as I’d dare.”
“Pardon-?”
“I’d stay with you until you’d lose your sanity entirely– to see you off, to put it simply. I would tell myself that you would have wanted yourself struck dead and lifeless than to harm anyone else.. But in the end I wouldn’t be able to do it. Even if it were your dying wish. Hah!” Alois opened his eyes fully, glancing at the Infantry from the side. He gave him a big, guilty grin. “I am a selfish man, Conrad.”
Conrad stared at Alois, his heart beating twice as fast. His upper torso was twisted towards the man, faces inches away, giving him his full attention. The Prussian’s expression was perplexed, unknowing of what to say. His stomach was gnawing at itself in a way that didn’t physically hurt but lingered enough to notice. He let his gaze drift off to the side, only to me met with soft taps on the cheek, signalling him to focus on him once more.
The man in front of him let out a hearty chuckle, grinning eye to eye, his breath tickling his nose.
“I… Selfish? But- But you are nothing of the sort, doctor! How could you utter such atrociousities?”
“You wouldn’t know the half of it, my friend.” He let out a sigh, propping himself up. The french man let out a grunt, pulling himself off the grass, returning the notebook with an apologetic smile.
The ranker tilted his head, taking the notebook with a grateful nod of his head. “Where are you headed?”
“I believe I should attend to those wounded. I thank you for your company,” He fit the bicorne back onto his head, brushing stray tufts of hair to the side. He glanced back at Conrad, tipping the hat.
“Thank you Alois.”
“...”
Conrad let out the breath he had been subconsciously holding in, closing his eyes. His stomach still churned, it felt like a pile of hot coal had been spun up into a typhoon inside of his body. This had never happened before, so what’s the difference this time? He’d known Alois for months now, this feeling had crept up on him so suddenly. Could it be the alcohol? He had barely had enough to knock himself drunk.
He ran his thumb over the sleek leather cover of the notebook multiple times before opening it up to the page Alois had drawn on. His artistic skills were immaculate, the dog visibly on his page, a large fluffy breed he couldn’t quite name. He’d have to return to his comrades at some point, there was no point in mingling here any longer… Without Alois his mind becomes numb— quite like the warmth of a campfire coming and going in the harsh cold.
The Prussian shut the book, tucking it back into his haversack. Perhaps he would write in it later tonight.