A Wolff Among Hounds [ Alexander / Public ]

Well this was turning out to be a fine point in Alexander’s life. His parents had always taught him to look on the bright side, but it was becoming increasingly difficult in his current situation. Wanted, penniless and in another country. But hopefully he wouldn’t be the first for long, which would mean everything would be fixed—Well perhaps not his reputation, but if he was lucky, which he’d always considered himself to be before the ‘incident’.

That was really, really unlucky.

But now it had given him a new goal—to catch the true culprit and prove his innocence! But… Where to start. No one he knew hated him that much. He’d never made any enemies at the academy, so it seemed most likely that he’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Which meant it would be even harder for him to find the right person.

He sighed, running a hand through his blond hair, not being able to remember the last time he washed it properly . . . probably a few weeks ago when he left for Vienna. And why was it so strange here? He knew it wouldn’t be exactly like Berlin, but he didn’t expect to misunderstand someone so much that he broke their nose after taking a greeting as a threat. He’d come here simply because they spoke German and had nice architecture, and already he wanted to go home.

The Prussian scowled a bit to himself, routing through the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a folded up piece of paper. Once unfolded it contained a collection of small sketches of a few buildings in Potsdam and Berlin that had caught his eye, his favourite being the large sketch of the upper half of the Brandenburg Gate; it was one of the few drawings he’d ever been proud of. Unlike most people who might have framed it, he always kept it in his pocket, it was a few years old now and starting to get pretty tattered, but he loved it none the less.

Alexander glanced down to the folder of other drawings and plans under his arm for a moment as he put the favourite back in his pocket. Perhaps he could sell a few of them, after all, all of the money he’d brought with him was nearly gone and he needed to eat. He could probably get a few—

His thoughts were cut short by someone bumping into him and causing him to drop the folder, the papers inside spilling out more easily than a liquid out of a broken bottle.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, arschloch!” He barked, muttering angrily to him as he quickly bent own to gather up the papers he’d dropped. These Austrians were really rude, that guy didn’t even apologise!

What a miserable place, the plaza was. It was full of miserable people, miserable stores, and miserable chatter. Oğuzhan tried to avoid it as often as he could. Well- he tried his best to avoid most places as well as he could. But sometimes, by avoiding those places he had to not avoid other places that he might have wanted to avoid. It was all very troublesome, really. Maybe if this city- maybe if the world wasn't so awful he wouldn't have to suffer so many God dammed inconveniences.

Shuffling through this remarkable mixture of the extremely wealthy- and the extremely poor, he could not help the bouts of negativity to erupt in his mind. He didn't like either of them. The poor, or the wealthy. And he didn't care much for class conflict either.

He scoffed. As if exploiting class conflicts was the solution. That was what it was cool to think now. Vienna was a mess. The poverty was in a mess, and the wealthy was. If the poor became rich, they would be in just as much of a mess as before- but, on different terms.

But none of these kids here ever realized that. What was truly important always managed to escape them.

He had worked himself up enough to be pissed off at most everything. And when he ran into someone, and when he dropped their work to the ground, he didn't even seem to care.

Not at first, at least.

Well away from him, he paused, calmed down, and he glanced back. The kid seemed to be much worse off than the wealthy that browsed around. He was one of the poor- maybe even one of the homeless.

And some sense of guilt allowed itself into Oğuzhan's heart. With a groan, he walked back to the man.

"Sorry, sorry..." he muttered. His German, though still accented, did flow out very well. He had obviously lived in Vienna for a while. Leaning down, to help him pick the papers up- he got a chance to look through them. Sketches, a number of them were very well done. And they weren't of Vienna.

"What are you doing with these, boy?"

. . . Or maybe they weren't quite as rude as he'd thought, he decided as the man came back and apologised.

"Don't mention it," Alexander mumbled, still not to happy about being knocked into in the first place, but at least he'd apologised and was helping him pick the papers up. Not something he'd been expecting, but it was definitly a good thing.

"What are you doing with these, boy?"

"Huh?" The Prussian blinked, looking up at him. He hadn't picked up on his accent initially, but now he had,he really couldn't place it. When he thought about it, he could only really place other accents from the German states, maybe the Dutch and French accents, but he really couldn't tell a Rhinelander form a Dutch accent. . . Oh. He'd asked a question, right, he reminded himself and shook his head lightly to get rid of whatever other things he was thinking.

"What do you mean, what am I doing with them? They're mine, I drew them," he huffed, looking offended and having taken his tone as accusing him of stealing them or something. Though that was being silly. He calmed down fairly quickly, rubbing at the stubble on his face, "I like to draw interesting buildings I see. . ."

"I haven't seen these buildings before...." He stated with a tone of suspicion. He wasn't really suspicious about the man stealing the art. Well, now he might have been, from the sudden outburst. But he honestly didn't care. This man, even if he was stealing, was only doing so out of desperation probably... At least, his appearance gave that away. He didn't smell very good, either...

He was homeless, Oğuzhan assumed. There were so many desperate or homeless people here, though. It was not his business to intrude, really. But he was somewhat curious.

"Get up..." he said, getting up himself. "Where are you from?"

(fffuuu this is so short, I apologize.)

"Well then you've never been to Berlin or Potsdam," Alexander stated, grinning at him before pausing and looking down at one in his hand before putting it back in his folder along with the other's he'd picked up, too distracted to pick up on the other's tone. "And some of them I designed-- I'm an arcitetct. . . Well, I was an arcitect," he muttered, once again remembering what had had him so distracted before.

The Prussian blinked at being told to get up, heisitating for a moment and getting up after the man, dusting himself off as if it would make a difference to the state of his clothes. It really didn't. He was still a mess, he knew it, but there wasn't much he could do about it so he didn't let it bother him.

"I'm from Prussia-- Well, Brandenburg, in the middle of Prussia. At least I think I still call it Prussia and not the German Empire. . . No, Prussia is much easier to say," He pondered, grinning again once he'd decided on which to say. He blinked, remembering that the other had an accent, well it wouldn't be too rude to ask where he was from, right?

"Uhm," he stared, "Where you you from? I've never heard an accent like that before. . . It's very strange."

"No I haven't been there." He stated, leaving it at that. He had been to a few places in Europe- but getting around was often a little difficult for him. He wasn't even technically supposed to be here, was he? "It seems nice. Your pictures don't look bad. But I haven't been there..."

Wherever there was called. He didn't care much for the man's thinking aloud, and the not amused expression on his face made that clear. Maybe it was wrong of him to help this kid out. Already, he was very irritating.

And where was Oğuzhan from?

The cynical, older man scoffed. Most of these people could tell where he was from. But, this kid wasn't from around here.

"The Ottoman Empire. You haven't been there, I assume? I wouldn't suggest visiting." At least now now. It could be a beautiful place, really. A beautiful place that Oğuzhan was not supposed to return to, though. And that naturally made him bitter about it. He was too bitter about the political situation, too bitter about his situation.

"I've lived in Vienna for a while, though. Do you have a place to stay around here?" Not that he was going to offer anything.

Alexander blinked, having not realised he'd been annoying the other and cleared his throat for a moment, "S-sorry, I ramble sometimes, don't I? But thank you! If you ever get the chance, you should visit one of them." He was grinning again, always more than happy to suggest places with beautiful arcitecture. Though he thought it best to not suggest more places since he already seemed annoyed by his rambling.

He was a bit taken a back by the scoff. Had he managed to annoy him again already? Or maybe he just didn't like him, not that Alexander would blame him, quite a few people had taken dislike to him so far after talking to him. It was nearly enough to make him paranoid.

"Oh! I've never met anyone from there before, no wonder I couldn't place your accent!" He grinned, "I can usually tell Russians and Poles but-- Sorry" He said, once again clearing his throat at realising he was rambling.

"Oh. . ." He started, brows furrowing while he thought. This guy was really, well, blunt. Alexander had never met anyone quite like it, "But. . . I've alway wanted to see the Sultanahmet Mosque and the Topkapi Palace. . ." The trailed off, eyes fixing on a window display to his left, snapping back as he spoke again.

"Uh, I don't. . ." When he thought about it, he had yet to sleep in a bed since he'd arrived in Vienna. Not that he'd minded. It hadn't even occured to him until just now, and now he didn't have any money left (at least no where near enough for rent). He really needed to prove his innocence quickly. . . or at least find a job. He frowned once again as he thought, running a hand through his hair-- excellent, another thing he needed, a haircut.

"I don't think I'll get the chance." He frowned, and left it at that. He had no desire to seek out beautiful places, or beautiful architecture. None of it really mattered to him. Beauty was not something that people like him really bothered to care much for. He preferred function- beauty was linked with excess, and excess was linked with stupidity- like the stupidity of the Sultan- and the incompetence that led his native country.

"It is beautiful though. As are they- nice to look at that is. I live in Istanbul... It probably seems like a beautiful city to someone like you." He stated, with a degree of malice, as he took some steps forward.

"And this city must seem beautiful as well. Not for long, I imagine, if you are homeless. It's been pretty cold at night lately, hasn't it? It gets worse. The people here also must seem pretty bad..." he moved his hand into his coat pocket.

"They get worse, also. Don't know why the hell you'd move here on your own free will... But, Good luck."

The Prussian stared at him. What a strange man, though he was definitly bothered by something and Alexander had decided that he wouldn't leave him be until he found out what. Afterall it would be good practise for his sleuthing skills-- practise that was greatly needed, in his opinion. But he also needed tact, something that he equally lacked.

"I think all cities are beautiful-- Well, the buildings at least. After all they don't decide what goes on inside them or stop it, so why should you judge that? You know, don't blame the box for the sour chocolate?" He frowned, unable to think of how to explain himself properly, hoping he would get what he meant, not surprised if he didn't. And he was pretty sure that was why he was here, something had happened that made him want to leave, right? He found himself following the man subconsciously to continue talking to him, in all honesty it was just nice that someone was having a conversation with someone. Even if he wasn't that talkative.

"Yes, Vienna is also very beautiful, I don't see why it would stop being beautiful depending on whether or not you have a home in the city. But I haven't noticed, it has been getting a little colder, recently. But hopefully I wont be here long enough to get too cold," He grinned at the man again, pausing and shrugging a bit to the mention of the people, "They're not very nice to me, but it's understandable, I guess. I don't think they like my accent and I look like a wreck, you know?"

"I didn't move here of my own free will," he muttered, his free hand going into his pocket. "Thanks, I guess." Well, they'd been speaking for a while now, perhaps it would be a good time to introduce himself. . .

He took a large step to get ahead of the other man, taking advantage of the two inches of height he had over him, "I'm Alexander, Alexander Wol--" He stopped midsentence, hand he'd meant to offer to shake only half raised. He really shouldn't use his real name incase he'd seen him in the papers. But then they were in Vienna, would they really post about it in the papers here as well? Well, he couldn't take a chance. This man might not know about it, but who's to say the next person wouldn't? He needed to get into the habit of giving a false name, now. He took a second to think of one, grinning and raising his hand fully.

"Sorry, I was distracted by the brick work on the building behind you. . . Alexander Steinmann, It's good to meet you, sir!" It had been his nickname at the academy because he had always found gothic arcitecture to be the most beautiful and interesting to look at and Steinmann was actually a last name. He'd have to thank his friend when he proved his innocence.

"I don't want a box full of shit chocolates." He grumbled, glancing back to the boy. He was still there. And from the looks of things, he didn't seem like he planned on relenting. This guy- these type of people... they were difficult to even associate with, without having his nerves so heavily grated on. "If the chocolates rot or melt from the inside... why would you want a box of chocolates like that?"

What a stupid metaphor.

Oğuzhan got what he was saying... But, he didn't agree. The two men stuck to two different schools of thought it seemed. Oğuzhan was older. His was better and more realistic.

"That's how governments get to what they are today. They rot from the inside out. It's the internal forces of incompetence which destroy empires. Men get sick... their appearance reflects it, and eventually they die. That's all because their contents are rotten. Such is the future of my homeland... and probably this dump."

He was ready to ditch him...

That was until he mentioned that he was not here on his free will.

Oğuzhan stopped in his tracks, taking a second to stare at the boy again. He understood the feeling.

"Oğuzhan Karadağ...." He muttered briefly. "What are you doing here?"

"That's. . . not really what I meant," Alexander sighed, deciding that now would be a good time to drop the subject since the other looked about ready to take off. If he was going to leave him, he could at least make sure that he wouldn't do so thinking he was anything worse than he already did, just incase they ever met again.

The Prussian couldn't help but freeze as the man stopped, what was left of the colour in his face draining and staring wide eyed at him like a deer in the headlights. Had he heard him say he wasn't here by choice? Oh god what if he recognised him and he was about to turn him into the authorities--

N-no. He hd to stay calm. If he tried anything, he could always hit him and run. Yeah. If he tried any funny business, he'd hit him and run-- But where would he go next? South again? He had always wanted to see the some Italian arcitecture in person, he supposed. But he was getting ahead of himself. At least he'd given him his name. . . It wouldn't do much good if he ended up with several guns pointed at him or a noose around his neck, but for the moment it was a good sign.

Now the only question was to tell him the truth or not, not having relised he'd been stood there, looking terrified for at least thirty seconds now. Perhaps it would be best to tell him nothing-- yes, nothing!

"I-I can't tell you. . ." He said, his voice suddenly a higher pitch with his nerves and not giving him a reason. He seemed to have not realised how much more suspicious he'd made imself look, quickly cracking after a few more seconds, "I-I didn't do it, okay!?"

Oğuzhan certainly did not expect to get this reaction. The kid seemed terrified. Absolutely terrified at even the thought of discovery.

There were many things that this boy could be. He could be rightly accused, or he could be falsely accused. He could be a criminal or he could be a victim. Maybe a political exile, even. Oğuzhan understood what it meant to be in that position.

He sympathized with the boy. Rare for him- as there were few people he chose to sympathize or agree with. But, he had been in these boys shoes before. At a young age, as well. He understood. He was once just as terrified. He once would have responded the exact same way to that sort of question. It was horrifying to be on the opposite end of the government- or whatever forces this boy was against. To be kicked out or to leave your homeland because of that... that was just as horrifying. He understood.

"Okay..." he began, backing off a step, just in case this reaction brought out some violence in the boy. "....Okay..."

"I don't care what you did." He reached down into the pocket of his coat, fetching out his wallet. Slapping some money- not too much, but just enough to be generous, into the boy's hand, he gave him a good, long stare. "Don't get yourself caught. People are going to be suspicious if you act like you do now... Or look like that."

"This place is full of people like you..."

He didn't think it possible, but Alexander somehow managed to look even more nervous as he took a step back. He was going to run. Run and tell someone and he was going to be caught-- It was all over and everyone still thought he was a murdering traitor. This was the worst feeling he'd ever had, he could feel his eyes starting to sting and he felt like he was going to be sick--

It took a second for him to realise what had just happened. Why was he giving him money-- Oh! He was helping him. A sudden wave of relief flooded over him. He didn't know what to do other than laugh at how ridiculous he'd been, rubbing his eyes on the back of his hand before holding out the money to the other.

"Thank you, but. . ." He started, trying to think of how to put it politely, "But unless you're going to give me a job for it, you can keep your money. I'd rather earn my money than just have it handed to me, you know? But. . . "He paused for a second, once againg scratching at his stubble.

It was true, he did look like a bum, but he'd thought it drew less attention to himself. At least less than he would clean shaved and with his hair combed back like it probably was in any pictures of himself in a newspaper that may have been published here. "I would shave at least, but, what I did-- Well, didn't do was kinda, uh, big news, you know? I only came here because I didn't think anyone would come looking for a Prussian in the Austrian capital."

"I'd much rather you some of my money than have you work for me." As in, he wanted to be on his way- and have this kid on his way, as well. "Just take it... It's not that much anyways. I have enough-", well maybe not 'enough', nobody had 'enough' except the upper class of this country.

This guy definitely didn't have enough.

Oğuzhan nodded at him. He hadn't heard about much big scandals going on in Prussia... Others might have, though. Others who actually cared about who did and didn't get kicked out of various countries for stupid reasons- they might care.

"Yeah... I suggest at least showering, then. Unless you are disguised as a homeless man. If you were it would be fairly convincing.... You smell like you've been sleeping in shit."

But so did a lot of the homeless of this town. So, yes- maybe his disguise was a good one.

Alexander paused, staring at the money in his hand. He really was going to need it, when he thought about it, only having about enough left for a loaf of bread. But he'd feel bad if he just took it. . . He had to think of something else--

"well. . . At least take one of my drawings!" He suggested, holding out his folder to the shorter man. "I'll let you pick whatever one you want, these are all just sketches, so you can take two or three if you want." None of the sketches in the folder meant that much to him. They'd just been observations and studies and a few he'd doodled up when he was bored, nothing he'd miss. . . At least as far as he was aware, anyway.

"You smell like you've been sleeping in shit."

He. . . Did? It was hard to hide the look of hurt on his face, smelling himself out of curiousity and wincing a bit. Wow-- he really did smell, didn't he? PErhps a shower would be a good idea ( or at least a wash in a river or something ). Even if he was half disguising himself as a homeless guy, he didn't need to smell like that. Though now he thought he'd check the area thoroughly before sleeping.

What would he even do with one of his drawings? He didn't need anything. They looked good... Well- the ones he helped pick up looked good. But he couldn't think of any use for them... He didn't even have anyone to give it to.

But why not? That was probably the only way to send the kid on his way. And so Oguzhan could get back to where he had intended to go.

"Sure...sure..." He waved a hand. "You can pick one for me..."

Noticing the look of hurt, he wasn't really concerned. He could pretend he didn't notice it.

Well, even Alexander was starting to realise he was holding this man up (how had he forgotten that people have to be places?), but picking the picture for him? Difficult. He knew next to nothing about this man and yet he had to pick a drawing he'd like. . . A challenge, to say the least.

He did have a couple of drawings of buildings in the Ottoman capital he'd drawn from paintings, something he really didn't like. He'd feel bad giving him something like that-- And from what he could tell, the man wouldn't like one too much, not that it was certain, he could have gotten the man completely wrong. He flipped through the ones that the other man had picked up for him, stopping on a drawing of the cathederal in Cologne.

"Here," the Prussian smiled, holding it out to the man. It was certainly a good quality, not to Alexander, of course, but none of them were, and this was one of the better of a bad bunch. Though he couldn't help but cave into a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Sure, he was pretty sure the man wasn't homesick or anything, but it wouldn't stop him offering, "And I have a couple of really quick drawings of buildings in Istanbul if you want. . .?"

Oğuzhan took the drawing from the boy. Staring at it for a while, with critical eyes. Of course- how could he really be critical about something he had no idea about. He was not an artist... he didn't know much about art. But he knew the drawing was good. A cathedral, was it? What an odd choice. Cathedrals were beautiful, without a doubt. And he appreciated it. But- it seemed like an unusual choice. Most people would have assumed Oğuzhan was Muslim- and it was the religion of his birth, so they would not be completely wrong. So it was strange that he would have instinctively chosen to give him one of these monuments to Christianity. He gave a laugh so slight- that it should have been ignored, but people don't often ignore when people laugh at them.

He appreciated the picture, though.

The slight smile dropped from his face when the boy mentioned Istanbul. Did his hometown strike a sore spot with him...? Or was it some other kind of emotional spot? An agonizing nostalgia, maybe... It was a place he loved once, but it had rejected him. He was bitter, maybe, bitter that the feelings were unrequited. But that did not mean he loved Istanbul any less.

"No, no....then you can take this one back. I don't have much to do with such a nice drawing, anyways. Someone else probably will... You can make some more money from it." he handed the drawing back to the boy. It was a shame, really... if he was the type of person to appreciate art, he could have gotten much merit out of it. "I'll take those off of your hands..."

Alexander couldn't say he hadn't expected the other to change his mind as he handed back the drawing. But then again, he couldn't say he wasn't also expecting an outburst from the other, but ths was definitly the more favourable outcome. He filed the drawing back into his folder, taking a brief pause while he looked for the drawings he'd done of the city, pulling out a couple of sheets and handing them to the man.

He was more than happy to give him more than one drawing instead of the one, good quality one. Sort of like quality over quantity, but the other way around. Perhaps that would be the best way to make money from his drawings. Aim to sell them to the potentially homesick. . .

He snapped out of his train of thought at remembering he was still addressing the other man, taking a second to clear his throat and grinning once again. "Thank you, Herr Karadağ, it was nice meeting you! But. . . You seem to be getting really annoyed at me, ahaha. . . I think I'll let you get back to your business now. Good bye!"