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The Music Box of Dreams


Zarfef
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OOC: Music (By ear because I'm too lazy to read the music) and Drawing by Zarfef :P. This is a prequal to my RP within Greece in the future.

The Music Box of Dreams

A nostalgic sound echoed over the shaky radio waves in the makeshift party headquarters of the People's Greco-Communist Party amidst the layered coating of party posters that blanked out the desolate landscape of a brown wall and it's peeling paint. In the midst of the birthplace of rational thought, she hummed along and tapped her foot to the beat as a new age of thought broke itself upon the paper in expanding regions of ink. She was reminded of an age and an era long past to which she owed her current dreams, to which she would owe her title of Chairwoman Temulin. An age long ago with a broken music box that chimed the same tune, how did it go?

The Broken Music Box of Dreams

Even now, her thoughts turned towards the past as she wrote to a dear friend of the family, urging him to come to the aid of the party within Greece.

Dearest Gregory,

I write to you amidst a time of great change in Greece, a time in which I am very much afraid and yet at the same time very excited that the proletariats have finally begun to realize the cause for which we have long worked. The war of Novakian Independence, known perhaps by you as the Great Arabian War, has temporarily drawn the eyes of the capitalists away from their prized possession of the Mediterranean. I have not wasted the opportunity tovarishch, and hours of labors appear as though they may ripen before the winters break.

The people of Greece are behind me, but I still have many retractors within the upper ranks of the bourgeoisie. They are not ready to relinquish their controls and might seek to hold out against the tide of history in the hopes of weathering the war in Arabia. They will not let go of their meat like dogs who have tasted blood. Tomorrow though, the posters will go out and the people will have a new symbol to which they can attach their hopes and dreams. History has chosen a new leader to call forward the revolution and spread the word of Marx and Engel.

Does it surprise you to know it is your little tovarishch, the same girl whom you might still remember clumsily running after a ball in the courtyards of Crete? She has grown up over the years, we have been apart and after father fell ill, she has taken on the family burden alone. Do not feel saddened, as I am honored to write these laws of history, but I am still weak in strength. You had taught Dad much that you had kept from me because I was yet a girl, but now our country needs you. I need you.

No matter how distracted the capitalists may be, they will not stay their hands completely from our affairs unless they believe doing so will leave them a finger the less. They cannot be kept out, but their influence can be minimized. All the same. If we secure the revolution however, I assure you I have the talent to maintain our future for years to come in the spreading of the glorious work you and father have sought. Please. Come back to Athens and speak with me on these things before the people can wait no longer. Your understanding and keen mind are the keys to our future. I am not my father and I did not forget all that you have done for our family. He and the other kandidats never realized how stubborn the dogs of capitalism are, only the Bolsheviks like us can truly bring about freedom for the people.

Please. Help us throw down our chains,

Tovarishch Temulin

Lifting the pen from the page. Temulin smiled, remembering the soft and gentle nature of that giant of a man to whom she presently wrote. She was summoning the great bear of Russia to Greece. She wondered if the streets could handle the weight of his shoes which he had so greatly filled. Gathering together the set of prints on the wooden table, she placed the letter on the top and lifted the head of Lenin to weight them down with his ideals. The hills were blue with the light of the moon as the cypress trees danced in a ballad to the song that continued to play on the radio as the revolutionaries prepared the way for the dictatorship.

Closing her eyes in the privacy of the room, she let the music take her hand and danced with the ghosts of Marx as she tossed the papers through the air and let the wind carry her in the waltz of time. Letting her imagination turn this rustic building into a grand hall while she awaited her marble palace and her champions of Communism.

---------

TemulinPoster.jpg

Edited by Zarfef
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Thunder Over Greece

Athens, Greece. An antiquated old automobile scooted along the declined cobbleway along a hillside vista of the city of Athena. In the distance, a crowd rumbled like thunderings before a storms precipitation, setting both the background mood and the foreshadowing of things to come.

The old reliable Ford sputtered to a stop next to a small local eatery, and boots landed upon the crinkled papers with headlines of revolution and an abandoned poster of the instigator. As Temulin straightened herself out over her car and fixed her trench-coat, she scanned the sidewalks nearby to see her posters blanketing out windows and draping telephone poles.

Quickly though, she would turn on her heel and smile at the sight of a long lost friend, still looming like a big black cloud.

Gregory perched his rather large rump on one of the ornate chairs that were scattered on the outside of the small bistro, a massive plate of spaghetti waiting to be inhaled in front of him as he finished off reading the newspaper. He was a massive bear of a man with experience in multiple wars and a long deep understanding of the Communist philosophy. When Temulin was younger, she often wondered if he kept all this knowledge in his giant beard full of dark curly hair.

The crowd gave off another loud cheer as the working masses gathered together in the forums of modern Greece and Temulin leapt over the decorative fence to make a feeble attempt at catching the lumber-jack off guard to see if she could at last reach around him to give him a hug.

"I knew you'd come" Temulin began, "I've missed you so much Gregory!"

"AhHaha! Temulin how much you have grown," Gregory responded, apparently returning the favor and practically crushing the air out of Temulin's frame in the process. "How have you been? It seems you've been busy, but it's not taking too much out of you is it?"

Temulin took a moment to catch her breath and then began, she began to rattle off her story as though she were trying to cram 10 years into the period of fifteen minutes only to be cut off at a moments interlude.

"I see, I see. We'll have plenty of time to speak of the past later, but from what I hear," Gregory nodded towards the crowd It's going to rain soon so we'd better get to work. Tell me what you have.

Well, the party has exploded here as of late, the cities have been lush for young socialists looking to make a change in the world. It's truly been amazing. The rural areas have been slow to respond, but with more and more media attention, the party is even gaining ground there as well." Temulin paused We have a 100,000 supporters willing to fight for the cause and as we speak our more... dedicated members are rallying up more support. We can finally achieve a socialist Greece Gregory! It is as you and father dreamed so many years ago!"

Gregory was in thought, his hand combing the hair on his great beard over and over again.

"Cut the number of supporters in half," reflected Gregory, "Half will never show up, the other half will practically be made to fight and against the trained resistance of the bourgeoisie, they will fall 10 to 1. Do you not think the capitalists cannot raise a 5,000 man army?

Temulin's joy evaporated and she shook her head, "At least that much. So you are saying this is all in vain Gregory? After we have come so far?" Pausing for a moment, she built up her courage, "No, this is possible, this will come to pass! It must!"

Gregory sighed and leaned back, nearly snapping the thin metal frame that was trying to support him.

"There is way." Gregory declared.

Temulin's eyes lit up, screaming TELL ME TELL ME. Then she enunciated this wish with words, "What is it! I must know! Tell me Gregory!"

Gregory was silent, then flipped the newspaper, scanning the articles for the story he wanted. Then he paused and pushed the paper into the table, pointing at an article hidden among inner pages.

War of Novakian Independence Ends in Aether Destruction: Nuclear Fallout To Cover the Globe

"There, " revealed Gregory, "I will gather the scattered souls of this war here, I will unite their fallen military command and I will bring them here under our banner and for our cause. I already have connections there, so I can make this work Temulin. But be warned that we must not allow our nation to become the puppet of this man Zarfef, he is madman, look what he has done to the world. He is not to be involved. We will institute zampolit and offer them a new chance at life here. They have a death sentence otherwise. In the meantime, you will have much work to do."

"This is incredible Gregory." Started Temulin when she was cut off.

"No, Gregory firmly cautioned, This move is dangerous, and should the revolution fail, we will be against the wall and not bourgeoisie. I'd of rather you led a simple life, but... this is what you have chosen and the laws of history will not be stopped now. I will go to move this along. You need to continue to rally the cause, but do not let the storm begin until I return. Use your resources, gather the workers to the abandoned factories and begin to produce arms and supplies. I'll acquire the schematics. But until I return and provide us with a military plan, nothing is to move. Do you understand."

"Da." Temulin capitulated.

"You cannot move at your state." Gregory declared, "NIKAT NET! I will return soon, if you can provide me with party files I will look for old friends of the family you might not know about. They will prove useful in setting up a loyal chain of command."

"I will get that for you," Temulin finished.

"See that you do." Gregory got up and looked towards the rumbling crowds hidden beneath the old stores lining the streets. Then he quietly walked away to begin his mission in far away lands.

Distant storm clouds now gathered over Greece, soon it would rain.

Edited by Zarfef
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OOC: Apologies once again about the long wait, it's just hard to get these things written with school and all. Got a mid-B on my real analysis test though :D.

Pooling Rain Before the Flood

The moon spun it's life across the skies a time and a half among the wandering stars and constant specters. Once again evening had fallen and Orion took a moment from tracking Scorpio as he lent an ear to the seven sisters as they chattered gossip of revolution and exchanged buzz words on Marx and verbiage of the risen proletariat. For how could the sky not take notice? Were not the streets of Athens alight with a vast sea of flickering red and golden luminaries it's own? Yet while the skies watched in awe-struck silence, the streets of Athens erupted in clamorous sound and violence, a jubilee of rage.

Two weeks earlier, controlling this revolution had become far more difficult for the chairwoman then anticipated. A marked event triggered the scales to over-flow in her favor when innocent Grecian blood was spilt and a life expired at the bumbling hands of the bourgeoisie hired guns; apparently surefire in their place beyond even her imagination. The working proletariat, like religious zealots confident in the coming rapture, proclaimed revolution from the rooftops and transformed a living boy into a dead but eternal symbol of the very violence that took his life. Your life and dreams mean nothing when swept away by such an unfathomable wave of effervescence as history was fermenting here.

By now, the revolution was a barely contained force of nature, something to be unleashed and not something to be controlled. There was no tracking of numbers and skirmishes at the houses of the wealthy had become common-place. However, with such uncontrolled restraint, Temulin was nightly visited by phantasms of the drunken battle in Greece and a revolution that teetered maniacally on the verge of a catastrophic civil war as devils dressed in gold mocked her goals with latin incantations, "Intervention ex machina", a veiled threat to a call for international intervention on behalf of the drachma. Worse yet, the wealthy who were cunning in their exchanges in business were now plotting a counter-revolution with the same cunning in strategy, displaying a marked advantage with every skirmish and brush with the working masses.

Still, with the patience of saints she waited, though she did not rest and her tired blood soaked her bones with exhaustion and her hand shook as it rallied the people while hoping to restrain them just a little longer. Then at last, the deed was fulfilled and history would capitulate to her fast of the soul. Spilling red ink in dramatic curves upon another cut of parchment, the wind blew through the windows and fate broke the drought with the rapid staccato of a thunderous knock on the door that would echo through the hills as the cyprus stirred in excitement. An imposing shadow loomed over Greece and sailors tied up their boats for the night as the wind spun tails of destruction from the room across the land far and wide. "Treason" decried the fearful shadows of men once wreathed in gold, "revolution" replied the confident masses.

"It is time my little Tovarishch, I have returned, I have returned with the army of the dead. And they hunger for the flesh of the wicked and vain with souls like hammers of iron and sickles of copper."

Edited by Zarfef
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