Post by Heidi on Jan 23, 2012 7:46:16 GMT
There is nothing left for you there, Adelheid.
The words were not true.
Her raven was a liar.
She was dressed in the plainest clothes she could find: a warm coat, a plain blouse, a skirt and boots. Though her memory of those days had grown faint from repression and other experiences, she tried to mimic the "poor little village girl" look she once had. Her dark, soft eyes even tried to hold that youthful cast, though her hard life had made them sterner, more sharp and cunning than before. Her mind had grown, as had her body, even though it bore the scars of abuse - a slight limb, a faded x-mark over her nose, missing bits of fingers and toes, and whitish marks on her face and lips from frostbite scarring. Her side with the slowly-healing rib also sometimes bothered her, causing her to lurch as the sensitive nerves complained; said rib, thankfully, had repaired itself otherwise. Perhaps these lent themselves more to her urchin look, but Adelheid, Heidi, Addy, "little girl" - whatever people called her those days - was mostly uncaring.
The only thing she cared about was getting back to France.
Adelheid, by all accounts, was the final legacy the Bevan children had left behind. Rhys Bevan had perished in an African battle, David Bevan had disappeared in that same continent's deserts, and little Jim had run from home. Despite her shyness, her stubbornness, her many runaway attempts and her lack of an English vocabulary, the remaining Bevans had loved her. They had fed her, clothed her, coddled her and given her more parental attention than she had ever known; they even had a dog she played with, but could never remember his name. Despite all this, however, she felt alone, isolated, surrounded by people who knew their own countrymen and language, and who recognized her as an outsider. Being born out of wedlock didn't help either.
There was no purpose in her life anymore. She had found the blessed green land, only to find that it was no more special than any other green part of the world. As time passed, she grew lonelier and more disillusioned, until one day, upon looking at photos, she realized something: she had seen Jim before. And it had been in a German prison cell, somewhere far back in time, in her mind.
Jim was somewhere in Germany. She knew it, she was sure of it. That was why she was going after him, as well as to bring closure to her life and bring her family back together. They were happy with her, but she could see that they missed Jim terribly, and maybe Jim would understand Adelheid. Maybe he could understand why she ran away, and why she felt sad, and what it felt like to be lost and alone in the world. There was also another boy, Robin, that was the nephew of that nice Herr Ealing; he had disappeared because of the Nazis during the war. Maybe she could find him too, and bring them all back home! They couldn't say Adelheid was a bad girl if she did that!
And now, she had found a port to depart from, having several small boats that were probably easy to sneak on. It had taken a few days, several nights sleeping in fields and dodging the local lawmen, but at last, she had got away from her grandparents - again.
The words were not true.
Her raven was a liar.
She was dressed in the plainest clothes she could find: a warm coat, a plain blouse, a skirt and boots. Though her memory of those days had grown faint from repression and other experiences, she tried to mimic the "poor little village girl" look she once had. Her dark, soft eyes even tried to hold that youthful cast, though her hard life had made them sterner, more sharp and cunning than before. Her mind had grown, as had her body, even though it bore the scars of abuse - a slight limb, a faded x-mark over her nose, missing bits of fingers and toes, and whitish marks on her face and lips from frostbite scarring. Her side with the slowly-healing rib also sometimes bothered her, causing her to lurch as the sensitive nerves complained; said rib, thankfully, had repaired itself otherwise. Perhaps these lent themselves more to her urchin look, but Adelheid, Heidi, Addy, "little girl" - whatever people called her those days - was mostly uncaring.
The only thing she cared about was getting back to France.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Adelheid, by all accounts, was the final legacy the Bevan children had left behind. Rhys Bevan had perished in an African battle, David Bevan had disappeared in that same continent's deserts, and little Jim had run from home. Despite her shyness, her stubbornness, her many runaway attempts and her lack of an English vocabulary, the remaining Bevans had loved her. They had fed her, clothed her, coddled her and given her more parental attention than she had ever known; they even had a dog she played with, but could never remember his name. Despite all this, however, she felt alone, isolated, surrounded by people who knew their own countrymen and language, and who recognized her as an outsider. Being born out of wedlock didn't help either.
There was no purpose in her life anymore. She had found the blessed green land, only to find that it was no more special than any other green part of the world. As time passed, she grew lonelier and more disillusioned, until one day, upon looking at photos, she realized something: she had seen Jim before. And it had been in a German prison cell, somewhere far back in time, in her mind.
Jim was somewhere in Germany. She knew it, she was sure of it. That was why she was going after him, as well as to bring closure to her life and bring her family back together. They were happy with her, but she could see that they missed Jim terribly, and maybe Jim would understand Adelheid. Maybe he could understand why she ran away, and why she felt sad, and what it felt like to be lost and alone in the world. There was also another boy, Robin, that was the nephew of that nice Herr Ealing; he had disappeared because of the Nazis during the war. Maybe she could find him too, and bring them all back home! They couldn't say Adelheid was a bad girl if she did that!
And now, she had found a port to depart from, having several small boats that were probably easy to sneak on. It had taken a few days, several nights sleeping in fields and dodging the local lawmen, but at last, she had got away from her grandparents - again.