09-18-2017, 01:57 PM
Freya Eistochter
It was perhaps not the most comfortable place to be, but for someone who spend over five years living inside a small rock floating through the Frankfurt system, including one year in a coma, Akabat was quite decent. It had solid ground and fresh water. Most importantly, the former leader of the Bundschuhpartei, Freya Eistochter, also known as ‘The witch of Frankfurt’, was safe here. For well over a year she had been living here far away from everything and everyone that mattered to her. She had little choice after her former apprentice Nika Haupt backstabbed her. She had to hide far from all that she had built. An attempt to return by installing a loyal and likeminded comrade as party leader failed. Haupt won the election, although in the wake of the election campaign the entire party had been fiercely divided and thrown into disarray. Haupt disappeared, Die Weiße Rose has just split off to challenge the dominance of the Vereinigte Widerstandsarmee, and Freya remained in exile. Exiled from the exiled party.
As an agent of the Order, Akabat was a sensible choice to wait out the storm. It was taking its toll on her however. She was a revolutionary, her place was in the revolution, not in a small apartment on a moon in a system so far from all human civilisation.
She lay on her bed in an Order uniform and went through her long black hair with her hand. Something had to be done, but she had so few options. No doubt many would welcome her if she’d return right now to Bruchsal. Many who never even supported her now longed back to that precious bit of stability in the life of turmoil that every member of the Bundschuh is burdened with. They would welcome her as the only certainty in their lives since 818. It was not possible however to return at this point in time. The issue wasn’t those who wouldn’t mind her return, it is those who would. She cannot actually bring stability right now because her adversaries are too numerous and too influential.
And so she sits here. Waiting. Planning. Scheming.
“Witch, there’s a visitor for you.” A male voice on the intercom interrupts Freya’s daydreaming. She slowly raises her left arm and positions the device around her wrist above her face. With her right hand she taps on the device. “Who is it?” She mutters to the device.
“Some ‘Samuel Cohen’. Says he wants to talk to you.”
Freya’s eyes widen and for a moment she is stunned. Regaining herself, she quickly rises from the bed and walks to the door. On her way she quickly adjusts and straightens her uniform. She halts in front of the door, takes a deep breath and presses the button on the door that opens it. Could it really be him? But how? The white panel in front of her slides to the left revealing her visitor.
“Father…”
It was perhaps not the most comfortable place to be, but for someone who spend over five years living inside a small rock floating through the Frankfurt system, including one year in a coma, Akabat was quite decent. It had solid ground and fresh water. Most importantly, the former leader of the Bundschuhpartei, Freya Eistochter, also known as ‘The witch of Frankfurt’, was safe here. For well over a year she had been living here far away from everything and everyone that mattered to her. She had little choice after her former apprentice Nika Haupt backstabbed her. She had to hide far from all that she had built. An attempt to return by installing a loyal and likeminded comrade as party leader failed. Haupt won the election, although in the wake of the election campaign the entire party had been fiercely divided and thrown into disarray. Haupt disappeared, Die Weiße Rose has just split off to challenge the dominance of the Vereinigte Widerstandsarmee, and Freya remained in exile. Exiled from the exiled party.
As an agent of the Order, Akabat was a sensible choice to wait out the storm. It was taking its toll on her however. She was a revolutionary, her place was in the revolution, not in a small apartment on a moon in a system so far from all human civilisation.
She lay on her bed in an Order uniform and went through her long black hair with her hand. Something had to be done, but she had so few options. No doubt many would welcome her if she’d return right now to Bruchsal. Many who never even supported her now longed back to that precious bit of stability in the life of turmoil that every member of the Bundschuh is burdened with. They would welcome her as the only certainty in their lives since 818. It was not possible however to return at this point in time. The issue wasn’t those who wouldn’t mind her return, it is those who would. She cannot actually bring stability right now because her adversaries are too numerous and too influential.
And so she sits here. Waiting. Planning. Scheming.
“Witch, there’s a visitor for you.” A male voice on the intercom interrupts Freya’s daydreaming. She slowly raises her left arm and positions the device around her wrist above her face. With her right hand she taps on the device. “Who is it?” She mutters to the device.
“Some ‘Samuel Cohen’. Says he wants to talk to you.”
Freya’s eyes widen and for a moment she is stunned. Regaining herself, she quickly rises from the bed and walks to the door. On her way she quickly adjusts and straightens her uniform. She halts in front of the door, takes a deep breath and presses the button on the door that opens it. Could it really be him? But how? The white panel in front of her slides to the left revealing her visitor.
“Father…”