"Was ist...?" Jakob furrowed his brow in confusion. "This is not a P.O.W. camp... where am I? Where are we? Who are you people?" his eyes darted between the people inhabiting his cell with him, his surprise and bewilderment clearer than the fact that all in his vicinity, including himself, if memory was to be believed, had been killed.
"Is this some kind of joke? Surely I'm not expected to believe figures such as yourself are alive in this day and age, ja? Surely someone who looks... Sometime around the era of Christianity's rise?... Is not still alive to this day? Surely some girl with the look of a seafarer who hasn't even seen a U-Boat does not persist to the 20th Century? Surely a... Actually.." Jakob rolled his eyes at the one-armed man that appeared from an era before his birth, before raising a single eyebrow for a moment, "It would seem those Americans are a tad too nostalgic... Those clothes have not been worn for decades, I hear. Must belong to your grandfather, ja?" he crossed his arms and tried to wrap his head around the situation he was in. "I suppose I'll ask... what are your names? Where are you from? We're obviously cellmates here, so it is best that we get acquainted, regardless of bizarre circumstances for meeting."
Oct 3rd 2018 21:02
//I’d say the Inferno, for the sake of fairness and possible infighting, as would be expected of Hell, would allow for everyone to understand each other via translation. Would possibly be a situation of waking up, knowing each other’s native languages.
Sep 28th 2018 19:12
"Ach.." the young man dressed in black garb sneered as he awoke, face down, on what appeared to be a rudimentary bed, not unlike one he'd see in his barracks. Better than the conditions in the camps, but certainly not preferable to his own home.
How he'd not awoken earlier was a wonder. The screams of agony coming from outside the cell wall were unbearable.
"Verdammt... Where am I?" he rubbed his head, finding that his visor cap was still somehow on his head.
"I could have sworn that damned Bolshevik schweine shot me dead. And last I checked..." he muttered.
"Russian prison camps were nowhere near this warm..." he scrutinized his quarters, finding basic bedding, a small cabinet, and a decently sized sink.
"Well, if this is a P.O.W. camp, I'm shocked..." he turned to the other side of the room he'd not yet inspected, to find another few beds, that were apparently occupied. "Was ist..." he murmured upon seeing those taking up said beds.
Sep 27th 2018 23:18