If you'd like to apply to Snowblind and would like to test the waters first or get a sample set up for your application, this meme is for you! We've even provided some prompts for you to use if you want (but feel free to make up your own). Here's how it works.
✭ Reply to this entry with a character you're considering apping into the game. You can include the name of your character and the fandom in your subject line. ✭ Comment around to others on the meme, whether you're in the game already or not. ✭ Now you have a sample ready for your application! ✭ So go reserve and apply when reservations and applications are open. ✭ Seriously, do it.
Network Prompts
ONE: IT WON'T BE LONG NOW... Well, you made a mistake. You spent too long searching around, or you ran outside near the end of the day for just one more thing, and now you've been locked out. You can search around all you want, but the best shelter you can hope for is pressing against the side of a sealed up building. You do still have your tablet, though. Maybe someone on the network can give you some advice, or at least some comfort while you wait for hypothermia to set in.
TWO: CABIN FEVER Maybe you didn't want that mistake of getting caught outside to happen again, but now you've ended up staying too long in one location, and cabin fever has set in. Maybe you're taking to the network to try and ignore the hallucinations. Maybe you want to tell everyone that you've figured out they're all in on your kidnapping. Maybe you ended up wandering off and now you'd really like to know if anyone can check back in the place you were at for your pants.
Action Prompts
THREE: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING You're going about your business searching what seems like it might be an especially promising house--it's fully intact and there's even a working fireplace with some wood! It looks like someone else has the same idea, though, and you've run into them in the middle of your search. Do you share the potential wealth or try to kick them out? On the other hand, maybe you know who this is, or maybe you're just glad to actually see another person for the first time in ages.
FOUR: GOOD MORGUE-NING You've just woken up in a morgue after dying in one unfortunate way or another. You have no idea where you are beyond that, but your tablet is insisting you can't stay here, so you should probably get out of here pretty quickly. Of course, bringing people back from the dead isn't a perfect science, so you're missing something important to you. Maybe you've lost your voice, maybe you can't remember where you're from, maybe you can't remember where you are right now. It looks like someone else is nearby, though. Maybe they can help you out?
Kimbley's palms itch. They've been itching since he showed up in this godforsaken town. He can't use his alchemy. He's not sure why, but he can't use it. That probably why he landed in here, come to think of it.
He thrashes out of the body bag he woke up in, though once it's obvious that he's not trapped in a tiny space in the dark, Kimbley relaxes. He takes in everything he can about the room he's in, though nothing looks familiar so far. Finally he hops out of the drawer, stumbling a little as he lands, but ultimately not losing his balance.
A very familiar voice catches his attention and Kimbley freezes. Greed? He hasn't even thought about Greed in a long time. Kimbley slowly turns, expression carefully masked. If it is Greed (and it wouldn't surprise him if it was; this place is crazy enough as it is) then he doesn't want to give anything away. He's not entirely sure what he's feeling - it definitely isn't anger and that's what he knows best - but he doubts he wants Greed to know he's having issues.
"Hey," He finally replies, casually. He shoves his hands in his pockets and smirks. Greed's words are light so either he hasn't noticed Kimbley yet or he's not mad about that betrayal. Kimbley's hoping for the latter. "Didn't think I'd find you here." Though really, he can't think of a better place for a dead man to meet a dying man. A morgue seems very fitting.
[ That is also her job. At least she's not laughing, this time! Only because she's making an attempt to not be absolutely obnoxious right off the bat. ]
Hardly anything is. You could spend your life meditating and living off a diet that doesn't in the result of either animals or plantlife, until you reach total enlightenment. Or live in harmony with the natural world and gain an intuitive, yet ungraspable meaning of the concept of life until you ascend to sainthood. Even those aren't healthy, because existing by default isn't.
And both of those are incredibly boring. And especially awful, since doing either teaches you that the meaning of life is to experience it, which all the spiritual immortality in the world won't help you with. Ah, I believe the kids these days have a saying -- 'You only live once.'. I'll tell you what -- if we run into eachother, I'll give you a few pinches for free.
She prefers windows, herself -- she's agile and flexible enough to get into most of them without too much of a fuss, and they're generally just much easier and sneakier than trying the door. Her rummaging is mostly for food and luxuries -- a fire is good and all, but one only needs one when they're settling down for the night, and carrying so much to burn is such a pain.
But Mamizou is certainly in the same mindset as George when she enters this house: it never hurts to be too careful, and while most people were agreeable, competition for supplies could get...well, fierce. If she could just slip in and out, she would, but this place seemed nice enough that she might rest for awhile...so it certainly wouldn't do to have any unwanted guests.
When he opens the door she's behind, she just tilts her head and smiles, hands clasped together and hidden in the overlarge sleeves of her cloak.
"Oh. Definitely. And you really don't have to look so scary -- after all, I'm just a poor old lady."
[George has both hands on one edge of an old bed slat, foot planted while he pulls to break it. The wood gives with a loud snap. He straightens, expression startled and then wary. He doesn't let go of the long-ish piece in his hands, shifting it to a better, more defensive hold.]
Don't think any a' these places belong to us. Not like most people mean when they say that. I'm layin' my head here tonight.
[The way he says it shows no intention of leaving or being driven off. Still, his posture isn't aggressive, just resolute. He's short and wiry, all but swallowed in an old, often patched coat.]
If you got this far, you saw my stuff out there.
[He juts his chin toward the hallway past her.]
Front room's big enough to share, long as your fingers ain't sticky.
[ Although the answer is short and curt, the voice might be easily distinguished as coming from a very young child. The tone is deadpan however, almost difficult to know whether Ib's joking or not.
But if she answered, then clearly, she's there. It has to be a joke... ]
I was going to do whatever I wanted without your permission, but really -- here we are in a new and, if I may be so frank, terrible place -- and I'd just like to help everyone enjoy their time here as much as possible.
Oh! I forgot to introduce myself, how silly. I'm Futatsuiwa from Sado, though if you want to be less formal, you can just call me Mamizou.
He lowers the table leg down to his side. His eyes stay focused on those hands he can't see, not her face. "I'm, ah, I'm sorry, ma'am. I ain't out to scare nobody." Nobody who doesn't deserve it. "Fella can't be too careful." He gestures vaguely, indicating more than just the structure they've both found to squat in.
"Gettin' late out there." He's awkward. He always has been with women. It's half not knowing what to say, half knowing he's not good enough for any decent or sane woman's time of day, and after that messy business with Curley's wife, no. It's best not to think about that.
His gaze flicks up to her eyes once, quick and away again. "Name's George. I sure would feel better if I could see your hands. Nothin' personal."
[ It’s about twenty minutes later when Mikasa replies. Sequestered away in a dim corner of an abandoned building, darkness shrouds the curt lines of her face. Even inside, the cold is illustrated in the visible puff left by her breath and the hectic slashes of colour high up on her cheeks.
The woman sounds out of sorts, and Mikasa isn’t making bets for her long term survival. Her compassion having run dry long ago, she isn’t sure what exactly motivates her to respond. ]
Yeah.
[ And then, dispassionately, ]
Calm down—
[ Sound upset? Shaky voice? No? Well, guess what, Josephine. You’re getting told to calm down regardless. ]
"Oh, dearie me. So mistrusting." Not that he was wrong in that. She was not exactly the most trustworthy person around strangers -- especially ones from places so radically different from where she'd come from. Still, she had to make a show out of...well, everything.
So she shrugs her shoulders. Time to see how much entertainment she could squeeze out of this one. "I'd rather not. It's very cold, you know? If you're really so curious, though, it's a knife I'm holding."
[ 'Normal stuff'? Did you mean: playing pranks on people, getting drunk, smoking in public, and being a general nuisance to disguise the fact that you're actually being incredibly helpful in a roundabout way? ]
Music! I'm a fan of bebop, myself. Are you a fan of Charlie Parker?
Already sharp features manage to sharpen further. His grip on the table leg tightens, but he still doesn't brandish it. Maybe it is a knife she's got up in there; maybe it isn't. It's the kind of thing somebody with nothing might say to keep somebody like him at bay. Or she could be off her nuts, armed, and somebody he'd need to watch like a hawk. He sighs inwardly. Looks like he won't be getting much sleep tonight, regardless.
"As long as you keep it in there an' don't go tryin' to stick it in me, I can live with that," he says evenly. He'd never fault anybody for wanting to defend themselves.
"It'll be warmer if we get a fire goin'." Saying is as good as doing when it comes to him as long as it's in his means. He turns back down the hallway to retreat to the room with the fireplace. He's careful not to put his back entirely to the room she's in or the hall on his way. If she wants to bum rush him, he'll be ready for that.
[If you happen to be someone stuck outside, you might see an odd-looking shape in the snow. It could be. . . a rock? Maybe a bush, or . . . ]
Hej!
[An odd greeting in a cheerful voice comes across the network.
No, scratch that. This oddly snow-covered dark shape in the snow is what looks like a tallish man in a long coat, but right now he's sitting in the snow, arms curled around his knees and one hand up in a greeting - but only if anybody chances by.
. . . and he must be an idiot, because he doesn't seem bothered by the snow at all. Not one bit. He isn't pressed up against a building or anything.
It was simple, really. Denmark has had much, much worse than this in his long life. He is starting to feel a bit nippy though, hitting his hands against his sides some. He'll switch to text, since he wasn't sure if he could be heard over the wind.]
Hej hej! You should probably save your energy if you're out in the cold!
[It's friendly, but there's definitely an undertone of bossy in it too. He knows best. He's the older brother, after all.]
[ He shouldn't have pushed himself to go that little bit further. That wasn't the wise thing to have done. Adversty wasn't something he was a stranger to, and time had normally been on his side. The irony of the situation is almost funny, but Link doesn't smile.
Instead, he leans up against the house that he hadn't been able to reach, and remembers a time when he had come to a stop in front of a rising drawbridge.
He'd been younger then.
His hands - already numb from cold - fumble with the tablet as he types in a message. ]
The last time this happened, I had to fight Stalchildren until the sun rose.
ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ
Cold was a terrible enemy. Link shoulders his way into the house as soon as he finds the door unlocked. Snow is caked on his boots and his coat's collar is almost iced from his breath. The wood he'd tied to his bag clatters as he drops it to the ground.
Grabbing a few sticks, he shuffles to the fireplace and sets about setting up a fire. It's only after he's done that that he hears a creak of wood. His ears prick ath the noise and he slowly gets to his feet.
Even after all this time, his left hand strays to his left shoulder, grasping for a sword hilt that wasn't there. He balls his hand into a fist and drops it to his side instead.
Whoever it was was coming into the room now. He'd be ready for them, fight or otherwise.
And she just widens her smile, nodding at him. "Oh, I wouldn't unless you gave me a reason to. That'd be much too messy, don't you think?"
Probably not helping the idea that she needs to be watched, but she wasn't exactly much of a helper, anyway. Not in any way that most people would actually consider helping, at least. But she follows him as he leaves, keeping a good amount of distance between the two of them.
He shifts his weight, acknowledgement of the obvious matter-of-fact in a wrinkle at his brow. His eyes are also blue, clear and keen and measuring her top to bottom the same way he might a rabid dog: concerned mainly with her reach. ]
No.
[ She has him there. But that casual shift in center of balance has primed the angle of his shoulders into better coverage of his cache, and the absence of any guilt in confession is telling. Easy affect aside, there’s tension in the ready poise of his right hand, right about where the hilt of a sword should cross his hip.
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snowblindmemes2015-05-12 07:10 am
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