Liebe ist die Droge

[Tristan Herman]

Refreshing was the crisp air of late fall. The snowfall, be it light, only added to the mood. In the distance the last vestiges of the setting suns light held onto the horizon like a set of blue finger-tips cultivating the distant hills of Bavaria to the North; home. The thought of visiting his father crossed his mind once more. He could very well do it. He was brave, wasn't he? Tristan had killed men with his bare hands, attained a respectable rank, earned the admiration of his comrades, saved lives. His father would have to respect him.

But the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to care. All that seemed to matter was the crystalline ice-sculpture wrapping her arm around his. If this was a dream, someone wasn't doing a very good job of waking him up; he didn't particularly want to either. If “Roseline” had been telepathic, she would've been annoyed by Tristan's sense of absolute wonder in stealing her attention.

At the mention of the cold, his eyes turned to his great coat and began releasing the buttons with a free hand, eventually pulling the woolen article from his form and insistently draping it over the woman before taking her arm again. Truthfully, Tristan didn't really respond to the cold like many others. The basic uniform was more than enough to keep him warm in the German winter. This was not Russia after all.

His mind turned from the prospect. The last thing to think of at that moment was the horror of war. Or how only a few kilometers to the north, at Dachau, Jews were being slaughtered wholesale. It was one of the many questions that plagued his mind every now and then. Killing a man who had the intent of doing you in as well is one thing. Genocide was something else entirely. It was something he'd been disturbed to witness Jace committing during their time in France. It had been some time since he'd seen Rocewic, now that he thought of it; the Schutzstaffel, along with Lieutenant Steinbeck, were his only real companions.

But he kept focus on the beautiful “Roseline” as he walked, making sure she seemed comfortable enough during the short, fifteen minute walk up the road. When the glistening, iced-over lake came into view, a smile graced his face yet again. He really was looking to lose that nickname, wasn't he?

As they edged closer, he turned his head to her and uttered “Here we are, Miss.” The scene was nothing short of mesmerizing. The banks were covered in a quilt of snow and leaves, with a thick Larch root arcing out of the whiteness intermittently. Mirror-like, the ice had somehow attained a glassy texture, reflecting its surroundings almost perfectly for a change. What's more was that it appeared to have solidified well beyond the point of being safe to walk on, even in the deep center.

Above them, the waning moon lit the scene in a picturesque manner, subduing color and stilling the world, seemingly for Tristan and “Roseline” alone.

“Your feet must be cold in those shoes, yes?”

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

The cold night air nipped at Raushan's face as a soft blanket of snow began to fall around them. She smiled softly as Tristan wrapped a wool scarf around her. True it wasn't as cold as the winters back in Belarus, but she wanted to see his reaction if she said she was cold. She was expecting him to stop and take her back to the tavern or at least somewhere in doors...but, she suppose having a wool coat warped around her was sweet. REALLY sweet. With her free hand she ran her fingers along the fabric feeling the hovering warmth lingering from Tristan. She smiled lightly pulling the collar of the coat closer to keep the cold away.

At times like this...the winter in Bavaria would remind her of the winters in Belarus; of her childhood... how she would lay in the piles of snow and watch the gentle snow form light fluffy blankets, falling like heavenly feathers...as if god himself appeared to blessing her as she lay.

Of course it wasn't as cold as the numbing winters in Belarus...which she liked. Her pale fingers fiddled slightly with Tristan's great coat sleeve...the touch of the course wool beneath her fingers reminded her slightly of the ones her Father use to wear. Though, the sent and colors were different...and obviously Tristan was not her father in anyway...not counting the part that he is in fact a German soldier. Just the simple touch of the fabric reminded her of the times she use to have with her father before his tragic passing.

Raushan inhaled softy leaving her cheek pressed against Tristan's arm as they continued down the street. Her utter sense of thought became numb, just thinking about how she took so many things for granted...how she could have spent more time with her father or her family in general began to fill her head...

She quickly snapped back..blinking a few times in realization,Focus Raushan! she scolded herself. She was in no situation to lose focus. She couldn't. She knew if she did she would have an even greater chance at blowing her cover...and yet...the sheer touch of the course fabric against her cheek or perhaps being with someone like Tristan seemed to put her mind at somewhat ease. It was as if for once; she could forget about the war...forget about her job...the mission...everything that had turned her world upside down. Perhaps even escaping from things she wished she could forget.

She let out a sigh, her warm breath forming a small wispy cloud in the cold night air as they approached some sort of frozen lake? She looked up to see Tristan smiling again...she couldn't help but return the smile, Remember this is just an act. she reminded herself. Her stormy blue eyes hovered over the pristine scenery before her. She had to admit...it was quite "breath taking". The moon seemed to illuminate the frozen surface of the lake giving it some sort of subtle blue hue.

The snow that inched towards the lucid ice was like a beautiful blanket of icing, caking every surface it touches in magnificent cases of frozen water. The air they breathed seemed crisper, lighter some-how...and yet chilling to the bone, but in a gracious welcoming kind of way.

Raushan peeled her gaze away from the scene before her and to Tristan who uttered that they had arrived to their destination. She smiled lightly, "Well, you surprised me."she teased.

She arched her delicate chocolate brown eyebrow lightly when he asked if her feet must be cold in the shoes she was wearing. Her eyes dropped to the black pumps she was wearing, finally feeling the cold sink in, "Yes...I am..."she said slowly not really following what Tristan might be implying.

[Tristan Herman]

Were the two of them better acquainted, Roseline would surely have been surprised by Tristan's demeanor, which was becoming increasingly unusual to the norm the more positive he became. Before she had even finished her reply, Tristan was pulling his boots off of his feet, and stepping into the crunchy snow.

“I, for one, have never been ice-skating,” he announced between strains of pulling the thick leather from his calves,“And while I don't carry around a pair of skates with me, I would still like to walk across the lake.” He gently loosed his arm from her own, brushing the skirt of his great-coat that Roseline wore so elegantly.

“Now, you can come with me, or stand there and look the way you are,” he assumed he needn't remind her of her beauty for the thirtieth time or so. He took a few steps forward, the snow chilling his feet through the woolen socks. Hindsight told him, immediately, that keeping the boots on would have kept his feet warmer, but the traction of a wooden boot heal on ice was not exactly significant in nature. He didn't much feel like spending the evening with more bruises than this vaguely wild adventure already had prepared for him.

A few shivers and wiggling of the toes told him that his feet had finally adjusted to the temperature (for the time). He turned back to face Roseline, and extended a hand covered in soft black wool; gloves he had bought only the week prior from a young seamstress in the city proper.

“Come on. I'll carry you if that's what it takes,” he assured with a dimpled grin.

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

Raushan was taken back a little as she watched Tristan begin to peel off his boots. She looked around trying to see if anyone happened to stop to watch this crazy German remove his boots. It was winter after all...only idiots go to this extreme and risk getting hypothermia or worse frost bite. But, at this moment...Raushan wasn't really thinking that, frankly;she found this in a way...entertaining. She had never seen a German soldier go to these lengths to impress her? Well, maybe impress wasn't the right word to describe her feelings or thoughts towards Tristan at the moment...but, nevertheless he did do a good job keeping her interested.

Raushan had a skeptical expression on her face as Tristan began to explain that he had never ice skated before nor did he carry any ice skates with him. She carefully loosened her grip on Tristan's arm feeling him brush up against the coat (he so graciously let her borrow) as he began to remove his other boot.

Raushan let out a laugh hearing Tristan state that she could just stand there...like hell she was passing this up, "Well, I like trying new things...and what you are doing seems fun. Adventurous...but some might say crazy....but to me...it seems fun." she replied slipping off her black pumps as Tristan held out his hand to her.

As soon as her pale feet made contact to the snow she felt a shiver run up her spine, "Gott!!!"she squealed in fit of excitement feeling the iciness of the snow finally sink in, "You must have some sort of resistance to the cold to be doing this."she said taking Tristan's gloved hand tightly. She smiled a slightly as she ventured out on to the frozen lake...taking one cautious step after the other, "Are you sure the ice is thick enough to hold us?"she asked, "Not that I would mind you carrying me."she mused answering his witty remark.

Translations:

"Gott!!" -- GOD!!

[Tristan Herman]

“The problem with carrying you on the ice” Tristan started as he led Roseline,“Is that the more weight you put on any given spot,” He stepped up to the shore on the balls of his feet, the frozen mud meshing underfoot,“The faster the ice cracks.” Gingerly, he let her fingers slide from his hand as he took the first cautionary step onto the ice, feeling with his toes at first before placing the full weight of his leg onto the glassy surface.

“But I'm sure you didn't need me to tell you that; you're smart enough.” Tristan flashed another smile to his side at her, inching forward and pressing with the ball of his forward most foot as he did so, listening intently. He continued this action for a few moments, proceeding a meter and a half onto the lake before becoming satisfied with its integrity, and turning back to her.

“Truth be told, I spent a month of the last winter without a pair of boots. Well, not ones that I could wear anymore.” He felt it unnecessary to mention it had been in the Eastern Ukraine on their approach to Sevastopol; she wasn't spending her precious time with him in the hopes that she'd hear a war story.

Cautiously, but with significantly greater speed, Tristan walked back to the shoreline, up into the fluffed and upturned snow, and extended his hand to Roseline once more smiling his dimpled smile as he did so.

“Come now, Fraulein. It's safe.” With as much sincere gentleness as before, he wrapped his fingers around her own, slowly leading her to the mirror's edge with a backwards pace. As they stepped onto the lake proper, he brought his other hand to rest on her hip; to support her more than anything (he was unsure if she felt susceptible to a fall of any sort). But as his hand grasped her, he moved his fingers from an awkward school-boy clasp, and spread his thumb to rest just above her hip bone while the rest of his fingers simply relaxed.

As he continued on, his heart (still a thousand miles per hour mind you) seemed to suddenly send a pulsing warmth through him. He nearly shivered from the sudden change in temperature. What was the feeling? He had never felt it in the duration of his life. At least not as intense as it was. All it accomplished was making him grin wider than before.

“Not afraid, are you, Roseline?”

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

A small smirk grew on Raushan's red lips as Tristan took the first few steps on to the ice. She cocked her head to the side slightly half expecting him t fall through the ice. Raushan knew how to swim...but in this whether....maybe not. She lightly folded her arms across her chest, taking on a more comfortable position by distributing her weight evenly on the balls of her feet.

A flirty smile graced her lips once more when he stated that she should be smart enough to know that too much weight in one area of the ice could crack it, "Trying to tease me? How cruel..."she teased back as Tristan flashed another smile at her.

"Hmmm..."she replied fluidly not really wanting Tristan to elaborate more about his time in the eastern front. Not that she didn't care, she just didn't want to think about the war this time. She was here to enjoy herself and flirt with a total stranger. A stranger that happened to catch her interest that is.

Her blue eyes watched Tristan intensely as he made his way on the ice...it wasn't graceful, but again it was quite entertaining for he to see. She arched her eyebrow slightly; she was somewhat happy he didn't fall through the ice...but at the same time she was excited to actually step foot on to the ice without any ice skates. Granted Raushan has done some ice skating back in Belarus when she was a child...but she has never walked onto ice barefooted. This could prove to be an interesting night after all.

She stared at him for a moment as he wrapped his fingers around her's. Truthfully Raushan didn't really know how to react to this kind of situation....so naturally she just played off Tristan's subtle signs of interest as some sort of joke. She smiled wittily and stepped on to the ice with help from Tristan. She felt as if she might slip somehow but, the somehow Tristan's grip reassured her she wouldn't. She relaxed a little gripping Tristan's hand with a firm grip.

"Afraid?"she repeated peeling her eyes off her feet and to Tristan, "I laugh in the face of danger! HA HA HA..."she teased. She smiled her personal eye catching smiles, blowing a strand of her chocolate brown hair away from her face, "The question is...are you afraid" she smiled again pressing her side against him in a teasing manner.


(ooc: lion king reference! ha ha ha! XD )

[Tristan Herman]

Feeling cocky, Tristan nudged her back in turn, caring not to be too forceful on the ice, coming to a halt finally some meters from a small island near the narrower part of the lake itself. While he was confident they were safe to stand on the ice in such frigid temperatures, he didn't want to risk going to the absolute deepest portion of the lake.
“Me afraid?” Tristan cocked an eyebrow, replying snarkily to his own question being fired back at him. Was he? Truthfully, yes. Afraid he'd say something still somehow. Or that he'd fail to impress her. Or that maybe a rogue asteroid would fall to the earth and kill her before his eyes. Something absurd of that sort.

And he was afraid that he would never see her again. He'd known her barely an hour, and he was positively enchanted. Every second he held her gaze was bliss. She was intelligent and quick of wit. She was beautiful but kind. As much as you could know from a person in such a short amount of time, he was finding himself all too captivated by her. Perhaps it was his lack of experience with any kind of woman and his hormones were telling him to be a foolish young boy. Or perhaps it was something more than that. All that really mattered was what he said next. And he knew it. Are you afraid, Tristan? Was he? What would he say? He could make it or break it then and there.

“Of falling through the ice? No,” he responded. As she blew her hair with an aside breath, he watched the luscious brown lock rebelliously fall back onto her face. With a nimble and slow gesture, Tristan captured the strands of soft hair and gently pushed it back into her mane with care. So small an action seemed so very significant to him for some reason. In the process, he took a step to the side, presenting his front to her rather than his side. He looked down to her beautiful, pale white face, centering on the vibrant blue of her eyes. She could never, he decided, be any less perfect than she already was.


“Afraid this night with you will eventually end?"


"Mortified.”


The words came off crisp and succinct. Emotional, but not drowning. The last syllable an audible whisper in the gentle wind. Just enough to tell her that she was unique. Just enough to, in little more than a sentence, tell her that of all the men she may or may not have ever been with, of all the sights she'd seen and all the memories she carried, he most certainly did not want to be a fleeting moment in the compendium of her existence. She was special. Somehow, in that brief hour, he just knew she was. And he knew that she had never met someone quite like him either; why else would she have accompanied this awkward young man on his misadventure? All he could do was hope she felt it as well.



[[Activate Romantic Writing Matrix]]

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

"Good...I'd be worried if one of the Fatherland's finest was scared of a little water..." she smirked, letting out a brief laugh as he bumped her back playfully.

Raushan flinched slightly as Tristan brushed the tedious lock out of her face. She swallowed a bit feeling her cheeks start to heat up. She blink and looked away trying to compose herself. She cursed herself, knowing she shouldn't have agreed to go on this outing with him. She didn't want to let him see her in a vulnerable state. She hated that! She hated people seeing her like some weak damsel in distress; which in any case she is not. Raushan cleared her throat, smiling a crooked smile at Tristan, "I think my feet is numb." she mused lightly trying to change the subject. She bit her lower lip lightly as she stared at the glossy ice below her feet.

Her eyes shot up instantly and froze on Tristan when he stated he was scared that their time together would end after tonight. She had heard so many similar statements from other soldiers...but, the way Tristan said it seemed different...possibly truthful in some way. Yes, Tristan was different from the other soldiers she had bumped into...but this whole thing seemed all to surreal and too fairytale like. Whether it was the truth or not...it freaked her out.

She merely flashed a smile at Tristan after he finished speaking, "Mortified? My such a strong word...but you barely know me." she said trying to sever any feeling she might have towards the soldier. Again she had to remember she wasn't here to form romantic ties to anyone. She's an actor in this giant play of deception and this war was her stage. No one ever showed their true feelings to each other...it's an act; or so that's what she thought.

She moved away from Tristan letting go of his hand, "You should be more worried about returning back to the Eastern front than worrying about never seeing the likes of me again." she said with an amused expression on her face. She looked away briefly breathing in the cool crisp winter air, letting it fill her lungs lightly as she pulled the coat collar closer to her face innocently.

[Tristan Herman]

“Look me in the eyes, Roseline, please...” There was no command or vigor in his voice. It was a plea. A humble request.. A belittling of himself. He was at her mercy, whether or not she knew it.

“I don't care that I've known you an hour,” he mustered a sincere grin (be it feigned), moving his left hand to her upper arm, keeping the other in place at her hip.“I don't care about the Eastern Front.” Tristan pulled her closer to him with a needing, gentle draw. Above, the moon slowly began to cross out from behind a sheltering cloud, while the world, silent around them, coated itself with the seemingly endless flurry of snow.

“The only thing I care about now is how I can make this...us standing here on the ice, barefoot in winter...last forever.” With slow and open deliberation, Tristan nervously drew her tight into his arms, an arm clutching her upper back whilst the other wrapped around the small and back around to Roseline's waist. His face buried into her shoulder and neck, only able to see the snowy island just behind her. He didn't want to let Roseline go.

“But I can't. All I can do,” his mind was screaming at him, crying out at the helmsman of what a terrible idea this probably was; he was a fool to even approach her at the bar.“Is make for a wonderful memory.” With a slight shaking present in his hands and lungs, he brought his uppermost hand to the back of Roseline's head, combing his fingers through her silken, liquid hair; he could feel trapped snow-flakes melt at his touch. He drew his face to hers, leaving a scarce inch between their noses to gaze into her deep blue eyes.


Tristan inhaled, closed his eyes, and brought his lips to hers.

It was a feeling of near euphoria that he was unfamiliar with in entirety. The man had never even held a woman like he had Roseline; never mind kissing. It had never even been a fantasy of his. He'd simply known that one day he was supposed to do...something with a woman. He'd heard enough men speak of it in passing during the down times. How they'd snogged and touched and groped and felt and kissed a woman. He hadn't known the feeling, only the stories.

As he preserved the moment, his hand shuddered, grasping at her hair; not to pull, but to feel. His lungs screamed for air, but didn't need any. His heart felt like it was going to burst into flames, but he loved the feeling. He loved the feeling of...her. Of Roseline. He held her waist tighter to him, letting the world around them disappear into the invisible sea of subtle sounds fleeting with the passing of those wonderfully long seconds.

Finally, he receded, drawing back from her face. He inhaled a single shallow breath, and opened his eyes again to observe her pale, yet somehow full, features in the half-darkness.








[[He has never kissed a woman either. Or hugged...

THIS KID IS AS VIRGIN AS IT GETS.


Also, feel free to negate any character control I performed if you so wish. It'll just, you know...make things awkward.]]

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

It would have been more personal if he'd call her by her real name, thought Raushan. Since it didn't register at a personal level she played it normally like a good actor she is. Nevertheless she responded equally to Tristan's gentle plea.

She paled slightly or more so a bit put back when he said he didn't care if he had only known her for about an hour (maybe less). She felt his hand glide up towards the upper half of her arm. Her eyes locked on his hand against her arm...curious and calculating some sort of action if he were to attack her in some way. Was he? She didn't know..but, it didn't hurt to be careful.

Her gaze met Tristan's instantly as he stated he didn't care about the Eastern Front....What the hell did he mean by that!? wondered Raushan.

Slowly, but gently she allowed Tristan to pull her in closer...the moon seemed to come out from behind the cloudy sky illuminating his face and the extenuating gold in his hazel eyes. OK....fine she'll admit; Tristan was pretty handsome in her eyes at the moment. Her mind just went completely blank....blank, not because she was nervous...but because she was caught up in the moment, "Last forever? Now...you're being silly Herr Stabsgefreiter"she teased trying to focus. Dammit...he was making it really hard to stay focused!

The way he held her as he nervously drew her into his arms...feeling the muscles of his arm coil firmly around her waist and upper back seemed...well, she couldn't really describe it. It was different more or less. She breathed, feeling his hot breath--the cold of his face pressed between her neck and shoulder. Raushan blinked a few times snapping out of her haze, doing her best to keep her mind from being clouded...but, of course it was a bit too late for that.

Raushan felt Tristan's hand travel up from the small of her back and into her dark chocolate hair, till she was once again gazing back into his eyes. Within seconds his lips made contact with her's...it was a bit sloppy at first; she guessed this was his first time actually kissing someone. As he tangled his fingers into her hair and dew her tighter against his body, her pale fingers lazily traced over his exposed jaw before lacing them behind his neck pullinghim more into the kiss. She let him lead for a bit before taking over.

She let the kiss drag on for a few more seconds (which seemed like hours), feeling her lips grow vaguely numb as Tristan pulled away. The warmth he left still lingered on her lips like an open flame. GOD DAMMIT!!! She cursed herself knowing fully that Tristan is seriously going to make her job harder now. Her gaze quickly fell to the ice below their feet feeling her cheeks heat up again; she relinquished her grip on his neck letting her hands fall gently at her sides.

She didn't really know what to say to him at this point....what now? What if he finds out who she truly was...will he still-...NO. She shot that question out of her mind before she could finish. No no...she can't allow herself to form an attachment to him. She couldn't....could she? Her gaze rose a bit still unable to make eye contact with Tristan.

(ooc: Not my best work XD I'll fix it when I have time XD)

[Tristan Herman]

As Roseline's eyes fell to the ground, despite her blush, something felt entirely off about the proceeding moment between them; an awkward silence of sorts, lacking any good connotation. It was, to his horror, that Tristan made the leap to a conclusion that he had evidently done something wrong. Was it the kiss itself? Was it his breath? His face? His eyes? The alignment of his hair? What had he done wrong?

Maybe he'd just taken it too fast. How could he be so stupid?! Nobody would ever kiss on a first date. Not to mention, nobody would ever kiss a stranger, no matter how enchanting. Well, no woman would. With the passing of each nanosecond of dreading thought, the winter wonderland quickly turned to a frozen waste. He had positively ruined the evening. He expression said it all. The lack of eye contact, her blushing (presumably in embarrassment), and a lack of expression.

Or did he? That kiss was...well, it was more than he'd expected. Truth be told. Tristan hadn't really expected anything. He'd been winging it ever since he set foot on the ice. The kiss was just as much, (with some help from Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence), and Roseline had taken control of it herself; it would have been more accurate to say Roseline had kissed him, rather.

Tristan's mind tripped and stumbled over what to say next, finding nothing obvious or suave to respond to the silence with. Hell, it didn't really seem to matter what he said, so long as he broke that God-awful silence. She didn't need to be reminded she was beautiful, she didn't need to hear that it was a nice night. That was the trouble with being a socially-disinclined intellectual: a kiss is never awkward in a romance novel, and it can't be scientifically analyzed.

“I'm sorry I-...I did something wrong, didn't I...?” And that was the wrong thing to say as well. His grin dissipated as his jaw clenched, his nerves beginning to fray like ropes. Tristan's first and only chance to impress a woman and he'd treated it like it was nothing. She was easily better than any Marlene Dietrich, but he was no Lionel Atwill by any means; he couldn't woo his way out of a cardboard box it seemed. Never mind his evidently bad timing.

The entire night had been ruined through his stupidity and inexperience. She would forget him, go on with her life, find better men, and he would be a footnote in her diary. He would be unextraordinary to yet another human being.

Wouldn't he?

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

"Wrong?" repeated Raushan making eye contact with Tristan finally, "No! I mean no....uhhh... you didn't it was umm...sudden yes...but you did nothing wrong Tristan" she said quietly her shyness peeking through a bit. She felt her cheeks grow hot again, instinctively she tugged the collar of the great coat against her face trying to discreetly hide her reddening cheeks. She looked up at him innocently trying to keep control of the situation. She couldn't help but laugh thoughtfully at his nervousness, "Something wrong?" she asked trailing her hand playfully against his arm.

Raushan smiled slyly, "Anyways...umm...it's not very safe standing on the ice." She said taking a step away from Tristan again, suddenly hearing low crack beneath her foot. CRAP! she thought instantly picking up her foot and lightly placing it elsewhere, "I think you were wrong about the ice being thick enough to walk on." she said in a somewhat of a half tease. Her eyes locked on the growing crack in the ice. Now she fully understood why her mother use to scold her and her siblings when they'd by on the frozen pond near their house during the winters. Even though the ice may be thick there could be some pockets of thin ice...well lucky her, she found one.

Raushan calculated an estimated time before the ice below her feet would give way, not to mention the temperature of the water when she hits it and the time when she would catch hypothermia...that is if the ice didn't seal her under. She looked over at Tristan to see what he was doing....maybe he didn't notice it yet? or perhaps he was thinking the same thing?

[Tristan Herman]

Roseline's quick reassurance was all he needed, it seemed, picking up his spirits in no time. His small grin returned as her petite, pale white hand brushed down the length of his arm. Maybe there was hope for the evening after all. If not that, then the ascertaining that he wasn't a waste of time or a bad memory; that counted for something in Tristan's books.

Nature, or maybe even God, seemed to have it out for him though. No, it was definitely God just laughing at him. No sooner had Roseline commented on the unsafe condition of the ice had it begun to crack under their feet; odd, considering it had put up with the two of them as long as it had.

“Yes, this is probably not the best of places to-” Herman began, taking a guiding step toward the shore, before being promptly cut off by the buckling ice beneath him, taking Roseline as well. There was only enough time for Tristan to realize that he was falling into the terrifyingly cold lake before his head submerged, and his muscles nearly went into shock. It was again time for him to thank the Russian winter for her conditioning, giving him just enough strength to struggle to the surface and slap a sopping wet arm onto the surface. His first reaction was to choke up all the water in his lungs. The second was to note, with great horror, that Roseline was back down there. There wasn't a thought to be had. Tristan inhaled deeply, and dove back down beneath the broken chunks of bobbing ice, intent on retrieving the falling angel.



[[The angel metaphor seems a little cheesy in retrospect.

Feel free to character control Tristan to save her, or have her swim back up on her own. Your call. C: ]]

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

Raushan suddenly felt the ice give way under her feet feeling the sting of the icy lake water hit her like a ton of bricks. Her heart began to race feeling the frigid water engulf her completely. God dammit!!! she cursed herself. She flailed a bit feeling panic slowly sink in...Calm down! You will sink faster if you panic! screamed the voice in her head.

Moments felt like minutes...minutes felt like hours till she found a way to calm down. Raushan quickly kicked her feet as hard as she could...though it was completely futile...the weight of the thick great coat felt like sandbags...not to mention she had her pea-coat on as well. Even though the two coats were affective against the cold; once wet it seemed to drag her to her death.

She struggled desperately trying to surface, but the weight of the jackets kept her under. She grunted seeing bubbles starting to cloud her vision, seeing the bubbles made her irritated knowing how much precious Oxygen she was exhaling from her lungs. Her numb fingers felt around her front slipping Tristan's great coat off with much ease. She felt a bit lighter, feeling herself float a bit more towards the surface. Now for her coat.

Her lungs screamed for oxygen. A burning sensation seemed to grip her stomach, twisting and aching into sharp pain. She struggled dully with the last button on her pea-coat...she felt a wave of relief hit her; but she wasn't out of trouble yet. She flailed a bit trying to get her pea-coat off.

"Nnn!!!" she gurgled unable to free herself from her coat. She kicked harshly trying to reach the surface, but her limbs began to cramp feeling herself sink further into the water. Can't die here!!! she thought stubbornly, opening her eyes slightly.
As she did she saw someone swimming towards her. At first she thought it was her father coming down to save her, God dammit was she really just going to let herself drown!? When the figure got closer she noticed it wasn't her father but Tristan. Oh! thank god! I'm not dead yet! she thought trying to swim towards him.

(not my best post but yeah...I'll do better next time)

[Tristan Herman]

It was melancholic serenity. The world gone silent. Slushing faintly with the churning, frigid, broken ice was the lake, half hushed in the snow fall. The symphonic melody of each individual cricket in the short snow-covered grass died to a whispering solitary violin. Above, Luna hid her gaze behind a blanket of clouds in fear. Not a soul in sight for a mile. Nothing to save them as the ice began to settle, and freeze over once more...

A cacophony of the lungs and larynx, Tristan extended a strained hand to the surface, clawing at the jagged edge of the ice. With every strained grasp, shards splintered and disintegrated into the freezing maw around his submerged head. With some frantic effort, he finally took hold, his shredded, bloodied glove bonding with the glassy surface.

Roseline's head broke the waterline first as he pushed her body up, onto the powdered refuge. There was a slight jostling and some panicked motion as she presumably scurried into the safety of the cold night air. It was a pined effort, but Tristan too emerged, groaning and choking up bitingly frigid water. A sopping wet arm laid itself out on the ice while he collected his breath with a hanging head. His dark brown hair formed locks over his forehead, tickling the bottom of his brow as drops of water ran down his face. It was a few moments before he urged the will to heave a leg up, and roll onto his side as his lungs continued to beg for air.

Were he not so numb, he would've felt the shards of ice buried in his hand and forearm, slowly trickling blood into the snow. But he was just so very...cold...Hypothermia...

With his last ounces of epinephrine, he rolled onto his hands and knees, and moved toward Roseline, feeling as though his limbs were already solidifying in the sub-zero temperature.

“Roseline,” he managed to cough,“Are you alright?”



[[The post was fine. xD I also saw your original version, where Tristan comes off looking like a chauvinistic idiot. XD That gave me a good laugh, really. Why'd you change it?]]