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We drank the blood of Tristan and Isolde by tasteofhysteria, literature

Literature

We drank the blood of Tristan and Isolde

29 September 1938 Munich, Germany “Neither antiquity nor any other nation has imagined a more atrocious and blasphemous absurdity than that of eating God.” The Führerbau was an acceptably formidable-looking building if one’s intention was to both awe and intimidate fellow political colleagues. It was also, Prussia noted sourly, suitable for cowing them by sheer propensity for being frigid inside, even for the passing of September. Regulation-grade boots clicked along the pristine marble floors with an odd reverberation, echoing in too much space as he took his place next to Austria in the dual-toned shadow of a squar

[Chapter 1] Alte Liebe rostet nicht by tasteofhysteria, literature

Literature

[Chapter 1] Alte Liebe rostet nicht

May 8th, 1945 “So before you go on one of your self-righteous tirades, let me just say that this was all my fault.” Germany paused in his tacit examination of the table’s wood grain to slowly lift his gaze to rest on his elder brother. Prussia had his mud-encrusted boots propped up on the table as he leaned back in the chair, seeming to be more like a noble in a plush seat than the prisoner in a roughly hewn chair. He was paler than normal, but he seemed unbothered by the gauze wrapped around his head to cover his left eye. “And how,” Germany asked, “did you come to that conclusion?” “ItR