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Road To Berlin
Greta nervously fidgeted with her dress as she was squished between her friends in the taxi backseat, both admittedly better dressed than she was as they had pearl bracelets. It was the 19th, the first Saturday after St. Valentine's, 1944; Greta had spent that day alone, for Adeck was once again away, this time at an airfield in Pomerania instructing Air Force pilots on how to fly the HHD-272 which had recently entered service alongside the ZDD-335 and AFW-152 as long-range fighters that could penetrate deep within the RSFSR or cross great distances over the Pacific. It would be a week before he would return and her friends sought to cheer her up by going to Berlin over the weekend; on Friday they left, aboard an AFWE-200 that took them from Frankfurt Airport and landed at Tempelhof and spent the rest of the day at a nice hotel right on Leipzig Street. After having lunch at a cafe and visiting a nearby park, the trio had changed into their best dresses and decided to take a taxi to a swanky nightclub. "Stop fretting for the night," said Ingrid as she was still fluffing her neck feathers up, "the whole point of this trip was for you to ease on your anxieties and have some fun for once."
The taller friend, Else, chimed in, "It is not proper for a lady to get her tail so curled up, she must keep her chest clear and her head up. Frazzling at a soiree only harms her in the long run, no good in being a worry wart, Greti dear.”
The Pyroraptor rubbed her snout, grumbling “I know, I kno-”
“Do you?” Ingrid snapped. “You keep insisting, yet you go right back to the fretting. You need to confront your fear, else it will eat away at you, believe me.”
Greta remained quiet and Else chimed in, “Please, no more bellyaching for the night, Greti dear. We are here to have fun and keep your mind from overthinking so much, just take a breath.”
She did as her friend told her, taking some deep breaths as the taxi reached their destination, parking behind a line of taxis along the curb.
After paying the driver, the ladies stepped out of the vehicle and began walking into the building; due to the cold, they all had fur coats over their dresses. They swerved to avoid an RLB officer leaving the nightclub; it had been over a year since their last visit and the streets of Berlin were debris-free and there were far fewer civil defense patrols. The Russians were being pushed far to the east, the airfields from which Petlyakov and Ilyushin bombers made flights to Berlin were being overrun, so the city could finally relax after two years of nonstop air raids.
Entering the club, their coats were taken by a doorsar and got a good look at the interior, which was done in a typical art deco style and crowded with people drinking and dancing. In the main hall, a jazz band was playing away, mostly composed of sars hailing from the Empire’s African colonies. Else led her friends toward the bar, which was busy with patrons and called for a bartender. One of them, a nodosaur female, approached the Europasaurus and asked, “Do you want anything, madam?”
“Yes, I would like some wine for myself and my friends,” Else replied. The bartender quickly prepared three glasses, which Greta and Ingrid took to start sipping. “Need anything else, madam?” The bartender asked. Else shook her head and said, “We’re fine for now, thank you.”
The bartender left to tend to other customers, leaving the ladies to enjoy their drinks. A drunk sar in an Air Force uniform seated next to Else mumbled, “Hey, talllady, why don’t you show m’ how ta ushe dat neck of yoush?”
Else scowled at the drunkard and sternly asked him, “Why don’t you sober up and learn how to treat a lady properly?”
“Aw, cummon, dun be like dat, darling,” slurred the sar as he put his hand onto her shoulder.
“Dat ishy cold attitude dusnt shoot a fine lady like yew.”
“Oh, I think it does,” the Europasaurus replied, angrily eyeing his hand. “It does when drunken ruffians think it prudent to try to woo her.”
The drunkard chuckled, “Sho ya fink yer sho fanshy, eh? Sho hoi’ toi’... cood need a lil’ loosen’ up.”
“Why-” Nostrils flaring, Else was about to hit back with a volatile insult when a male voice exclaimed, “Hey, Willi! Leave the poor lady alone, will you? You’ve drunk too much, go home!”
Greta and Else turned their heads towards the voice and there, standing just behind them and glaring at the drunkard was a handsome, brown-feathered eagle in a similar Air Force uniform.
The drunkard hissed, “Why shood I, wen I’ve jus got shtarted ‘ere. I was simply jus shweet talkin the pretty lady with the long neck, why dun you jus-”
It was then that three other sars in the same powder blue uniforms showed up and restrained the drunkard, who resisted angrily before being dragged away, toward the entrance. There was an awkward silence in the nightclub before the band resumed playing the music and people returned to dancing and chattering. The eagle glanced back at Greta and her friends and, smiling awkwardly, said “Er, sorry about that, Willi can be quite rowdy when he’s had a few to drink.”
Else sighed, “Thank you kindly, sir. I was afraid that brute might try something truly uncouth, he seemed like the sort who would force himself on a lady.”
Shaking his head, the eagle replied, “Nah, he talks a big game but he’s harmless, the most he'd do is try to put his hand on your shoulder.”
The Europasaurus harumphed and took a sip of her wine, much to Ingrid’s amusement; the Liliensternus chimed, “Else, you need to get up and dance, the music’s swinging and you might need to relieve some stress.”
“Dance?” Else was taken aback by Ingrid’s suggestion, “I was just hit on by a drunken lout and you suggest I dance to some mongrel jazz?”
Ingrid shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. It’s always wonderful watching you enjoy yourself; you’re always so stuck in your hands, thinking you’re above everyone else.”
Ignoring her friends’ conversation, Greta, eyeing the eagle’s uniform, asked “hey, is that an Air Force uniform you’re wearing?”
The eagle nodded in confirmation, “why, yes, it is. I fly with JG 6, based out of Sprottau Air Base in Silesia; we fly Messerschmitts and Heinkels against the Soviets.”
“Interesting, I have a boyfriend in the Air Force who is stationed in Pomerania.” Greta paused, looking at her glass of wine, “we haven’t spoken to each other in over two months.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied the eagle as he approached the bar to order himself a drink. As he waited for the bartender, he added, “I was dating a fine girl back home, then just last week I got a letter from her... she’s through with me.”
“How dreadful!” Else spoke up, having finished her wine, “What sort of wosar would reject a handsome fellow like you?”
Ingrid shrugged and said, “Eh, not a fan of the powder blue uniform with the weird bird things on the cuffs.”
Smiling, the eagle responded, “I appreciate the compliment, madam and they are rank insignia.”
“Hmph,” snorted Ingrid, looking indifferent.
Greta sighed as she sipped her wine, seeing Else start chatting with a dragon lady in a bright red dress. Ingrid was glaring at the dragoness as she was consuming her drink, something the Pyroraptor noted.
“Some fine-looking ‘ness your long-necked friend is chatting with,” the eagle said to Greta.
She watched her friend talk with the dragon about fashion and their respective professions before saying, “Yeah, at least she found someone who shares her interests, because we certainly don’t.”
Ingrid shook her head in confirmation at her friend’s comment, much to the eagle’s amusement.
There was a pause as the band started playing a slower song and the eagle asked Greta, “Hey, do you mind a dance? I haven’t danced with anyone since December ‘42.”
Greta took a moment to consider before nodding and replying, “Yes, I would like to.”
The eagle took her hands and slowly danced with Greta, easing the Pyroraptor into the act; slowly, she warmed up tom him and the doubts clouding her mind cleared up. As much as she was averse to dancing with another sar after her friendship with Ulrich fell through, this actually felt relieving and pleasant. The worries she had had on entering the nightclub disappeared and she felt like she was flying through the air, the joy and tranquility she was feeling as the eagle led their dance.
Although eventually, the song ended and the two of them separated as the band played on, Greta still felt elated as she returned to her wine. Ingrid smiled as she watched her friend finish her drink and said, “You’re blushing, Greta.”
Sure enough, her snout was glowing with bright oranges and reds, her cheeks feeling warm. She replied, “I haven’t been this elated in so long, Iddy.”
Greta tried to look for the eagle again, but he seemed to have vanished, it was the last she saw of him that night. After a few more hours spent there, which saw Else dancing with a Plateosaurus fellow and Ingrid with the dragon from earlier, the three of them took a taxi that drove them back to the hotel. They were of varying stages of intoxication, poor Ingrid being drunk and putting her hands on her friends’ arms and waists while singing Marlene Dietrich songs off-key.
After getting dressed and climbing into bed, the Pyroraptor would have the best sleep she had in months wherein she dreamed of dancing with Adeck to the band’s song. February 26 just could not come fast enough.
Greta nervously fidgeted with her dress as she was squished between her friends in the taxi backseat, both admittedly better dressed than she was as they had pearl bracelets. It was the 19th, the first Saturday after St. Valentine's, 1944; Greta had spent that day alone, for Adeck was once again away, this time at an airfield in Pomerania instructing Air Force pilots on how to fly the HHD-272 which had recently entered service alongside the ZDD-335 and AFW-152 as long-range fighters that could penetrate deep within the RSFSR or cross great distances over the Pacific. It would be a week before he would return and her friends sought to cheer her up by going to Berlin over the weekend; on Friday they left, aboard an AFWE-200 that took them from Frankfurt Airport and landed at Tempelhof and spent the rest of the day at a nice hotel right on Leipzig Street. After having lunch at a cafe and visiting a nearby park, the trio had changed into their best dresses and decided to take a taxi to a swanky nightclub. "Stop fretting for the night," said Ingrid as she was still fluffing her neck feathers up, "the whole point of this trip was for you to ease on your anxieties and have some fun for once."
The taller friend, Else, chimed in, "It is not proper for a lady to get her tail so curled up, she must keep her chest clear and her head up. Frazzling at a soiree only harms her in the long run, no good in being a worry wart, Greti dear.”
The Pyroraptor rubbed her snout, grumbling “I know, I kno-”
“Do you?” Ingrid snapped. “You keep insisting, yet you go right back to the fretting. You need to confront your fear, else it will eat away at you, believe me.”
Greta remained quiet and Else chimed in, “Please, no more bellyaching for the night, Greti dear. We are here to have fun and keep your mind from overthinking so much, just take a breath.”
She did as her friend told her, taking some deep breaths as the taxi reached their destination, parking behind a line of taxis along the curb.
After paying the driver, the ladies stepped out of the vehicle and began walking into the building; due to the cold, they all had fur coats over their dresses. They swerved to avoid an RLB officer leaving the nightclub; it had been over a year since their last visit and the streets of Berlin were debris-free and there were far fewer civil defense patrols. The Russians were being pushed far to the east, the airfields from which Petlyakov and Ilyushin bombers made flights to Berlin were being overrun, so the city could finally relax after two years of nonstop air raids.
Entering the club, their coats were taken by a doorsar and got a good look at the interior, which was done in a typical art deco style and crowded with people drinking and dancing. In the main hall, a jazz band was playing away, mostly composed of sars hailing from the Empire’s African colonies. Else led her friends toward the bar, which was busy with patrons and called for a bartender. One of them, a nodosaur female, approached the Europasaurus and asked, “Do you want anything, madam?”
“Yes, I would like some wine for myself and my friends,” Else replied. The bartender quickly prepared three glasses, which Greta and Ingrid took to start sipping. “Need anything else, madam?” The bartender asked. Else shook her head and said, “We’re fine for now, thank you.”
The bartender left to tend to other customers, leaving the ladies to enjoy their drinks. A drunk sar in an Air Force uniform seated next to Else mumbled, “Hey, talllady, why don’t you show m’ how ta ushe dat neck of yoush?”
Else scowled at the drunkard and sternly asked him, “Why don’t you sober up and learn how to treat a lady properly?”
“Aw, cummon, dun be like dat, darling,” slurred the sar as he put his hand onto her shoulder.
“Dat ishy cold attitude dusnt shoot a fine lady like yew.”
“Oh, I think it does,” the Europasaurus replied, angrily eyeing his hand. “It does when drunken ruffians think it prudent to try to woo her.”
The drunkard chuckled, “Sho ya fink yer sho fanshy, eh? Sho hoi’ toi’... cood need a lil’ loosen’ up.”
“Why-” Nostrils flaring, Else was about to hit back with a volatile insult when a male voice exclaimed, “Hey, Willi! Leave the poor lady alone, will you? You’ve drunk too much, go home!”
Greta and Else turned their heads towards the voice and there, standing just behind them and glaring at the drunkard was a handsome, brown-feathered eagle in a similar Air Force uniform.
The drunkard hissed, “Why shood I, wen I’ve jus got shtarted ‘ere. I was simply jus shweet talkin the pretty lady with the long neck, why dun you jus-”
It was then that three other sars in the same powder blue uniforms showed up and restrained the drunkard, who resisted angrily before being dragged away, toward the entrance. There was an awkward silence in the nightclub before the band resumed playing the music and people returned to dancing and chattering. The eagle glanced back at Greta and her friends and, smiling awkwardly, said “Er, sorry about that, Willi can be quite rowdy when he’s had a few to drink.”
Else sighed, “Thank you kindly, sir. I was afraid that brute might try something truly uncouth, he seemed like the sort who would force himself on a lady.”
Shaking his head, the eagle replied, “Nah, he talks a big game but he’s harmless, the most he'd do is try to put his hand on your shoulder.”
The Europasaurus harumphed and took a sip of her wine, much to Ingrid’s amusement; the Liliensternus chimed, “Else, you need to get up and dance, the music’s swinging and you might need to relieve some stress.”
“Dance?” Else was taken aback by Ingrid’s suggestion, “I was just hit on by a drunken lout and you suggest I dance to some mongrel jazz?”
Ingrid shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. It’s always wonderful watching you enjoy yourself; you’re always so stuck in your hands, thinking you’re above everyone else.”
Ignoring her friends’ conversation, Greta, eyeing the eagle’s uniform, asked “hey, is that an Air Force uniform you’re wearing?”
The eagle nodded in confirmation, “why, yes, it is. I fly with JG 6, based out of Sprottau Air Base in Silesia; we fly Messerschmitts and Heinkels against the Soviets.”
“Interesting, I have a boyfriend in the Air Force who is stationed in Pomerania.” Greta paused, looking at her glass of wine, “we haven’t spoken to each other in over two months.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied the eagle as he approached the bar to order himself a drink. As he waited for the bartender, he added, “I was dating a fine girl back home, then just last week I got a letter from her... she’s through with me.”
“How dreadful!” Else spoke up, having finished her wine, “What sort of wosar would reject a handsome fellow like you?”
Ingrid shrugged and said, “Eh, not a fan of the powder blue uniform with the weird bird things on the cuffs.”
Smiling, the eagle responded, “I appreciate the compliment, madam and they are rank insignia.”
“Hmph,” snorted Ingrid, looking indifferent.
Greta sighed as she sipped her wine, seeing Else start chatting with a dragon lady in a bright red dress. Ingrid was glaring at the dragoness as she was consuming her drink, something the Pyroraptor noted.
“Some fine-looking ‘ness your long-necked friend is chatting with,” the eagle said to Greta.
She watched her friend talk with the dragon about fashion and their respective professions before saying, “Yeah, at least she found someone who shares her interests, because we certainly don’t.”
Ingrid shook her head in confirmation at her friend’s comment, much to the eagle’s amusement.
There was a pause as the band started playing a slower song and the eagle asked Greta, “Hey, do you mind a dance? I haven’t danced with anyone since December ‘42.”
Greta took a moment to consider before nodding and replying, “Yes, I would like to.”
The eagle took her hands and slowly danced with Greta, easing the Pyroraptor into the act; slowly, she warmed up tom him and the doubts clouding her mind cleared up. As much as she was averse to dancing with another sar after her friendship with Ulrich fell through, this actually felt relieving and pleasant. The worries she had had on entering the nightclub disappeared and she felt like she was flying through the air, the joy and tranquility she was feeling as the eagle led their dance.
Although eventually, the song ended and the two of them separated as the band played on, Greta still felt elated as she returned to her wine. Ingrid smiled as she watched her friend finish her drink and said, “You’re blushing, Greta.”
Sure enough, her snout was glowing with bright oranges and reds, her cheeks feeling warm. She replied, “I haven’t been this elated in so long, Iddy.”
Greta tried to look for the eagle again, but he seemed to have vanished, it was the last she saw of him that night. After a few more hours spent there, which saw Else dancing with a Plateosaurus fellow and Ingrid with the dragon from earlier, the three of them took a taxi that drove them back to the hotel. They were of varying stages of intoxication, poor Ingrid being drunk and putting her hands on her friends’ arms and waists while singing Marlene Dietrich songs off-key.
After getting dressed and climbing into bed, the Pyroraptor would have the best sleep she had in months wherein she dreamed of dancing with Adeck to the band’s song. February 26 just could not come fast enough.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / General Furry Art
Species Dinosaur
Size 1280 x 873px
File Size 584.3 kB
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