#or to put it another way: what factors led to Germany keeping up these dead children folk tales while many other areas try to not do that

[pocketramblr]

I think the dead kids in german fairy tales/ballads/ect. is partly due to them being cautionary tales. Also, many of them are from times when child mortality was pretty high so it was something that just kinda happened and so slipped into stories easily.

Oh sure, there's plenty of factors to lead to the response of dead children all over the place in those tales. The real question is why Germany specially is known for it, when at that point in history it wasn't exactly exceptional as far as dead children goes

[shatteredskies042]

NaNo Day 7-8: New York

“So, do you think we can get some support here?” Michael asked the blonde, looking around slowly.

“I think I can get some of them to support us: they’re no fans of the angels and they love sticking it to the man whenever they can,” Ally stated, the sidewalk mostly empty in the afternoon. “It’s just up ahead,” she promised him.

As they advanced down the street, Michael spotted familiar building nearby: “I didn’t know this coven was close to the Continental.”

“The Continental?” she asked him curiously.

A wide smile bloomed over his face, “is it possible I know something about the secret underworld that you don’t know?” he teased.

“Maybe,” she huffed.

“The Continental is an embassy of sorts,” he explained. “Some of the finest assassins in the world come here, stay and relax, take jobs and prepare for the same.”

“Sounds volatile,” the blonde remarked.

“No business is conducted on the grounds,” Michael stated. “Safest building in New York. Even if they don’t like you, someone puts a move on you in the lobby, and a couple dozen guns will take that guy down.”

“Sounds like our kind of place,” the blonde smirked, leading him into cover from the rain under the eve of a building. “The witches are dangerous in their own way, and I think it’d be easier to get their support,” she told him, buzzing the intercom near the door. “Plus, they owe me,” she smiled.

“State your name and business,” a voice snapped over the intercom.

“It’s Allyson, I want to talk to the High Council,” she replied.

“And the human with you?”

“Will be coming inside,” Allyson responded, steel entering her voice.

“Allyson, you know the rules.”

“Have I ever been one to play buy them?” she asked, rhetorically. “Look, you can either open up, or we can enter and trash the place. And I think you guys want your deposit back when you find a new home,” Ally noted coldly. She knew what both of them were capable of, as did the witches.

Silence responded, until a loud click came from the door and it swung open. The two stepped inside, before the doors shut behind them. A quartet of black-clad women awaited them, looking at the pair. “Human, I am to relieve you of your weapons. They will be returned to you when you leave.”

Michael narrowed his eyes and shrugged, slowly drawing and clearing his weapon and setting it on a table. His pair of magazines followed, as did his pocketknife and combat knife. He stepped away, looking at the four, well aware he did not need his weapons to cause some damage.

“Is that everything?” they asked in unison, likely some tactic to unnerve him.

“It is. If you want to search me, you’ll probably have to get through her first,” he replied, looking to Allyson.

“No need. Follow us.”

Michael and Allyson did as they were bid, following two of them as the others fell in behind. They were boxed in, decent enough for preparing for an ambush, or ready to rush the pair if they did something uncouth. Michael kept his eyes looking around, and noticed a few figures moving in the shadows around them. Paranoia?

Ally, how many do you pick out following us? He asked her silently.

At least a dozen in side rooms, she replied, her senses far more sensitive that his were. They’re silent, but I can still hear breathing, she told him.

Think they’re scared? He wondered.

Security conscious. Their last coven was brought down from the inside, a witch hunter got inside and distracted them. He died when his comrades burned their home, but I couldn’t tell you how many of them died.

Lots of witches dead? Are they still an effective force? He asked.

They’re not front line troops, Michael, Ally told him as the group entered a wide elevator. We need support, to keep the operators in the fight, and their magic can help give us an offensive edge, she promised. I probably got us a bit of manpower in the lycan clans, I’ve got a group of them flying in from Germany too. They owe me a favor, she explained.

How well trained are they? Michael asked.

Some are ex-military, but almost all of them have weapons training. We can run training at the Farm when they arrive, she mused, but they’re capable fighters. They’ll make a good front line, with your operators behind them.

You’ve been thinking and strategizing, Michael noted, looking over at her with a smile.

This isn’t just my life on the line, she told him, returning the smile. I want as few of our people to die as possible.

Michael echoed the sentiment silently as the gold doors of the elevator slid open, and their escort detail led them towards a pair of wide doors. They were waved to enter the chamber, and the thick doors slid open silently. In passing, Michael noted how thick the doors were, built to survive breach attempts and a whole host of other assaults. Whoever ran their security knew what they were doing.

The room inside was windowless, shadows thrown in all but the very center of the room: Michael could make out chairs, but could not discern which were occupied and which were empty.

“I am sorry, Miss Allyson, the whole High Council could not be here today,” a voice rang out. “You understand, I’m sure.”

“They’re paranoid after what happened in Albany, I understand,” the blonde replied, striding with Michael in tow to the lit space in the center. “I trust they are listening?”

“Some of us are,” an accented voice replied, relayed through speakers. “It is simply not safe for the entire High Council to meet at once, you see.”

“What business do you have here, Allyson?” A present voice asked them from their right.

We’re surrounded, Michael thought, another tactic used to put them off balance. He closed his eyes and breathed steadily, letting Ally handle it.

“A war is coming to my shores. Heaven wants me dead. We intend to defy them,” Ally stated, “we’re putting together an army to confront the angels when they come marching.”

“We have heard,” another voice claimed, “news of the ambush of the American alphas has spread. We assume it is directly related to your mustering activities.”

“You assume correctly,” Ally said. “I know your people are not warriors. However, they can provide our troops the support and an edge to win this battle.”

“Humans, witches, and werewolves fighting together?” A present voice mused, “it sounds like a volatile combination.”

“Possibly, but we will work through any differences.”

“What do we stand to gain from this war, Allyson?” a voice demanded.

“Apart from slapping the faces of the archangels?” Ally replied, “knowing you took a stand and made a difference when it mattered.”

“If we fought for petty victories, why fight?” another asked, “their armies have uncountable numbers, they have been training for longer than any of us can fathom. We cannot win a fight with them, and we will be slaughtered if our involvement is revealed. And what of the political consequences if you do manage to pull out a win?”

Politics? Michael wondered, wondering where that factored into it.

“Politics is something we’ll deal with after,” Ally stated.

“You cannot just stand against the greatest army in the world and expect the world to be no different the day after should you miraculously succeed,” the same voice repeated.

“We are dealing with things one step at a time,” Ally told them, irritation in her voice. “You don’t plan your victory parade before the battle begins.”

“And what of the human you brought here, Allyson. The latest pet of yours dragged into your mess?”

“Why don’t you step forward and say that?” Michael replied, his eyes narrowing and preparing for a fight.

“Violence does not solve all your problems, human,” a voice scolded.

“You’re clearly not using enough then,” he shot back.

“Who even are you, human?”

“My name isn’t important, my actions are.”

“Like what?” one snorted, “what could you have possibly accomplished in your short life?”

Michael smirked, “I don’t suppose any of you enjoyed the Full Moon Ball earlier this year, at Enara Fortress. I had a hand in keeping sure it was safe. The attack on Heaven a few weeks ago, the man who embarrassed the guards there? You’re looking at him. Madame Von Portia, her quest to become a lich? I was there when we destroyed her and her tether to this world. Now, are you going to get off your high horse and get down to business?”

“Why do you never pick the good men, Allyson?” an exasperated female voice asked.

“Because our definitions are different,” the blonde shot back. “He’s the best man I know.”

“Of course he is, you’ve been manipulating his soul for how many centurie-”

“Enough!” Michael shouted. “We’re done here. You’re more interested in your petty dominions and feuds than the real work. You people have made your case clear, all I can ask is that you stay out of our way.” With that, he turned on his heel, with Allyson moving beside him as they walked to the door.

“Or what?” one of them asked.

“Or the destruction of your last coven will be the very least of your tragedies,” Ally promised cryptically.

The doors slid open, and Michael and Ally stepped out and headed straight for the elevator. Accompanied by the quartet that had seen them enter, no one said a word. A pin could be heard falling in the room, and a sudden move would end in combat. They reached the bottom floor, and Michael began to collect his weapons while their guards peered on. As he secreted his extra magazines and knives back on his person, the clicking of many shoes echoed across the floor.

Ally turned to face the approaching group, squaring her stance and narrowing her eyes. A large group of witches strode into the lobby, all looking at the pair.

“Is it true, Allyson?” a blonde at the head of the group asked. “About?” the angel replied.

“You and your boyfriend fighting Heaven,” she clarified.

“We intend to,” she stated as Michael stepped up beside her. “You know that the High Council has withheld their support, Carla?” she told the young witch.

“The Council didn’t want to do anything after our home was destroyed. They saved their skins first, didn’t bother with the rest of us,” she snarled bitterly. Looking her over, Michael could see the raised and reddened scars wrought by fire, matched with the flaming intensity of her eyes.

“Carla Mortoria,” one of the four guards that had escorted Michael and Ally to the Council stated, interposing themselves between the witches and the pair. “The High Council has forbid any witch under their rule to participate in this affair.”

“Just because those old hags don’t want to take a stand doesn’t mean we don’t,” Carla shot back.

“Speak well of your elders,” the guard snapped, “you owe everything to them. We all do.”

“I left my idolization of them at the same place I got these,” she venomously stated, raising her arms to show the horrific burn scars that resided there.

“Going further may be considered treason, Miss Mortoria,” the guards said in unison.

“Speaking the truth is a crime now?” she asked, mock surprised. “I wanted to expect more from the elders, so wise and knowledgeable. Instead I put my trust in those willing to let the rest of us burn to save their own skins, more interested in bickering and controlling their people than leading.”

“Let it be known,” Ally’s voice rang out, stepping forward. “That any witch seeking refuge will be granted it at the Goddess Island Institute. The accommodations aren’t the greatest, but we can work on it,” she promised. “At the very least, you’ll be safe somewhere with people to protect you.”

“Furthermore,” Michael added. “Any witch under our roof is under our protection, and there’s nowhere you can hide if you threaten it.” He turned to look into a camera, that he knew the Council was watching from. “Impede us or threaten any of us in any way, and I will bring this building to the ground.”

The guards turned then, each addressing Michael: “leave, human.”

The look in his eyes was clear as he looked back at them, daring them to try it, instead only met with passive resistance. “Let’s go then,” he announced, heading for the doors. In step behind him fell Allyson, and the group of young witches.

Words: 2,133

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