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?
[ There’s nothing quick about the way Jorah draws himself up in mirror of George’s squared shoulders. His tired muscles wind upright with pride that doesn’t have much place in an abandoned house, with an armload of chair and a beard full of blood. It serves to make him look larger than he is, and he’s already a brute.
But he’s a brute with brain enough to look George over head to toe, wary of the shapeless heap of his coat.
For the stretch of silence it takes him to calculate whether or not George is going to be a problem, it seems increasingly likely that he might be a mute. Deaf, perhaps, or just dumb. ]
I don’t have any ‘Lucifers.’ [ he says, at length, squinting. And then: ]
Jorah.
[ Past that, he seems content to stick to his doorway, and to his heap of wood. ]
What? No. Keep it with you. Your things come back with you....
[She looks away from the door back at the screen. She didn't realize he was this new.]
You come back here. No one stays dead. You'll wake up after you die in a morgue. You might be missing your sight or your hearing or something else for a while but you come back.
[Somehow, she wishes she knew how.]
I just meant I'd look after your friend until you woke up again.
Greed finally, actually gets a good look at the companion in the morgue. He immediately tenses, as soon as the tablet beeps in warning. It's just enough distraction to prevent Greed from launching himself at Kimbley and breaking his face in. He watches Kimbley for a long moment, frowning. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again," the homunculus says evenly. He's not sure where "here" is, and to be honest, Greed doesn't care to ask right now. He just wants to get out of the the morgue.
"What a 'pleasant' surprise," Greed says. "Can't say I want to stick around in a morgue, how about we chit-chat outside?"
He doesn't wait for Kimbley to respond, he almost immediately heads for the door. It's better than punching the alchemist in the head.
Kimbley notices Greed tensing. He tries not to react, but the way he clenches and releases his hands reflexively probably says enough. His smirk is still plastered on; it doesn't look anywhere near as convincing as it should.
"I dunno about you, but I don't have much to say." Kimbley's response is even, thankfully. The strange device beeps from inside the body bag Kimbley woke up in and he half-turns toward it curiously. He doesn't want to turn his back on the Homunculus, so he tries to split his attention between both as he fishes out the pad. He doesn't usually like following orders, but the PLEASE LEAVE NOW warning just so happens to fit with his desire to leave. He's not bothered by dead people, but waking up in a morgue is kind of morbid, even for his tastes.
So Kimbley starts toward the door, only turning his back on Greed for long enough to get the door open and step outside.
"Yea, uh, messy." He shakes his head. Screwy. He's almost sure of it now.
When he's back in the main room, he shrugs out of his bedroll strap and lets the bundle fall to the dusty floor. He's slept in worse. This is no time to get fastidious. The dust puffs and settles, and he makes his way over to the fireplace. It doesn't take him too long to get things set well enough to start a fire. He keeps himself turned more to the side than with his back to her. He sees nothing wrong with being considered suspicious. As far as he cares, it keeps both of them more honest.
His matches are precious things, an ever dwindling supply that he doesn't use when he's alone. He can start a fire the Boy Scout way. He prefers not to when he has to focus his attention on strangers. He strikes a single match, sets it to kindling, shoots a quick, mistrustful look her way, and bends to start blowing at the flame. It's a careful nursing that after a few nervous touch and go moments has him convinced it's not a bust.
He sits back on his heels. "Ain't much. It'll do. You got a name I can call you? If we're gonna be here all night, Ma'am's gonna wear thin."
[George's mouth thins, emphasizing the sharpness of his features.]
Like hell I will.
[It's flat and matter of fact. He doesn't budge, only his eyes shifting and giving the guy another once over. Does that make it a twice over? Screwy thought. He needs to stay focused.]
It's cold. I ain't got nothin' thick under here to keep it out. You worried about somethin' on me... [Of course he has to be. George would be thinking the same thing.]
Once we get this room halfway decent and not fit to freeze a man, I'll show you. 'Til then, maybe you gotta give a little and let me get the fire started.
[Or he could brain him and rip the coat off. Looks like he'd be able to. Guy's easy as big as Lennie and obviously no moron. He eases his hands out to the side and keeps watching him.]
It's a good thing that Greed doesn't want to fight while trapped in a morgue-- it's creepy enough right now without him adding another body to it, he decides. Once they've both stepped outside, he immediately pulls what he's wearing (a thick coat? Since when has he worn something like that?) closer around himself. "I didn't think I'd run into you ever again," he says carefully.
His stance is aggressive, like he might pound Kimbley into the ground at any moment, but he refrains. "Damn, it's cold out here." That's muttered, under his breath, as he still watches Kimbley warily.
Greed's not exactly willing to take his gaze off the alchemist, just in case he tries something.
[She knows she looks foolish with the fire poker, but being unprotected and having a warm cabin to herself is enough for her to worry. It's a scene she can imagine Sandor Clegane laughing at her. What could she do with that?
But the woman in front of her wasn't. For as fearsome as she looked, wrapped in furs and a look about her that almost dared someone to try something, she was most amicable. Sansa moved to allow her to stand closer to the fire, knowing too well what the cold out there could do.]
I was with a group, [She lies, but she lies well. She does better with them than any weapon.]
But we've been separated. [It's likely with what has already happened to many. There isn't much to the town, and there's even less supplies. From what she's experienced already it seems this place has a liking to divide people, to test what a long night can do.]
[ See Sougo. See Sougo working. See Sougo working on something that looks like an explosive. His brows were drawn together in intense concentration and after a moment, he nodded in satisfaction. And his attention was only pulled away when he saw the message on the network. He didn't know who it was, but man that text sure was irritating. ]
I'm working very hard on something that I think will benefit the community as a whole. It's a work in progress, but I think we will be better off when it's complete.
It's come to my attention that there's a horrible monster lurking in this world. One that has to be purged for the safety and sanity of all.
You can rest assured, though, as vice commander of the Shinsengumi, I will do my part to rid the world of this menace to society.
[ Jorah expels enough steam to fill a bronze bull, hot air rolling in draconic plumes behind a sigh. The first step he takes deeper into the room is a long one, reclaiming the space as his own. ]
It’s a lot colder outside,
[ he says, positively reasonable as threats go. His second step is shorter, self-assured, and sees him standing fast again. Still square, still cradling half a chair. His age shows through at closer range, lank hair swept back, still damp with snow melt, old tendon cabled hard in his hands. But he’s still well out of arm’s reach, angled to keep the wood he’s already laid out between them. ]
I’m not asking.
[ The 'wildling' is silent, an acrid aftertaste at the end of his address. He tilts the scruff of his chin at the coat. ]
Open it, and the wood is yours to burn.
[ The scabbard he has at his hip is conspicuously empty. ]
Clint frowned but he could understand the panic. He'd seen it plenty of times before--may have felt it several times even if he'd never admit it. Time had taught him to keep a level head, though, and that was his goal right now.
"Easy, man. As far as I know, there's no way out of this place. At least not that anyone has found yet. And you need to calm down before you do something you're going to regret like running out the door to try and find a way."
Kimbley isn't wearing any sort of coat outside of the military jacket, so as soon as he's outside he shivers and begins to yank his sleeves down. They're far too big on him and it won't help much, but it's better than nothing. He's pretty jealous of Greed's coat right now.
He's surprised that Greed hasn't tried to punch his face in, but Kimbley's not about to pick a fight right now. If he had his alchemy then sure, he'd love to blow Greed up. But unfortunately, he's completely powerless here. It's also way too cold for him to ever want to pick a fight.
"Yeah. Me either." Probably because Greed was definitely dead, but he rolls with it. "So... what, you're not gonna fight me?" Not that he minds, of course. He's just surprised that Greed doesn't seem inclined to kill him.
In better circumstances, Greed might be nice enough to hand over the coat to Kimbley-- after all, it isn't his. Unfortunately, he can't trust Kimbley any more, doesn't think their former friendship matters much anymore, taking in Kimbley's military uniform. Greed's not a complete idiot. He's capable of figuring out what happened.
"It's too damn cold to fight you," Greed says finally, gazing around as he tries to take in their surroundings. It doesn't look like there's anything but snow for as far as he can see. Where the hell is he, anyway? Greed nearly asks the question aloud, but he doesn't want Kimbley to know he doesn't have a clue where he is.
Greed voices the same thought Kimbley had and that gets the Crimson Alchemist to smirk a bit before he decides that it's too cold for that. As usual, he doesn't seem concerned that Greed's going to go back on his word. Greed doesn't lie, he remembers that much. Honestly though, Kimbley's the sort to trust people at their word no matter how stupid that is. He should probably be more careful, but he's gotten this far so why change now?
Eventually he turns to look at the landscape as well. There's not much but snow. It's more snow than Kimbley ever saw back in Amestris and while he might be tempted to go play in it, he's too cold to even think about getting any more wet than he already is.
"So where the hell are we?" Greed's hesitance to bring it up is probably the smarter way to go about this, but Kimbley sees no harm in asking. He has no idea, so why should he pretend he does?
[He's tense. It shows in the leap of jaw muscle under scruffy cheek. He's no stranger to men who throw their weight because they can, bullies, those who seek humiliation as well as domination. It's impossible to tell yet if this man is any of those things. The blood is worrisome. He can't tell if it's his or another's.
But the second demand, when it comes, is slightly more reasonable than the first. Open the coat. Not remove it.
He nods once, still slow in his movements. First he pulls the strap of his bedroll off his shoulder and over his head to drop the bundle down to the side. Then he fumbles at the buttons. His gloves are tattered at the fingers, frayed in places with the tips sticking through. It makes it easier.
He pulls the flaps open, revealing just how spare he truly is, how careworn and threadbare the clothes beneath, patched and repatched to keep it all together. Lifting the hem of the coat, he turns to show his waistband, too, that he's not packing heat.
The hair at the back of his neck prickles with having his back to the bigger man. It's vulnerable, dangerous, but so is having him think he could be a threat. If he has to fight, he'd rather it be for a decent reason than a stupid one.
Letting it drop, he turns back again, already starting to shiver.]
[ Sheena watches him a moment before joining him near the fire, but not too close; she doesn't want to take any chances. Bits of her clothes still have wet patches from the melting snow, and she begins rubbing her arms to help the fire warm her. ]
I've never been to a snow-covered world at all, just that place I mentioned back home. [ She looks at him askance. ] And trust me, it looked nothing like this. It was actually kinda pretty. [ Blush.
Oh good. A topic change.]
The beach is nice, too. I haven't been swimming in a while, though.
[ Shaking her head, she looks at him. ] As dangerous as freezing to death? Okay, so you can come back, [ Don't ask her how she knows this, okay? ] but is that really worth not taking the chance on people? [ She smiles at him. ] It's worked out tonight, after all.
Greed, for his part, doesn't seem too put off by Kimbley. He doesn't trust the man, will probably never trust the man ever again, but he figures Kimbley isn't going to try anything. Fighting might just get them both killed again-- come to think of it, maybe that's what happened to him before.
He's not really sure why he doesn't recognize the area; obviously he's been here for a while if he's dressed for the weather. "I call it Frozen Hellhole," Greed says in response to Kimbley's question, motioning at the snow. "Come on, we need to find shelter."
"Well, I guess hell must've frozen over if I'm seeing you again, so that name seems pretty accurate." Kimbley's smirking when he says it, but the expression isn't a nice one. While he's not trying to pick a fight with Greed he really can't resist saying it. He's never been good at keeping his mouth shut when he really should.
Greed does have a point though. If they stay out in the cold they're both going to be in trouble. Well, maybe Greed won't. Who knows how Homunculi handle the cold? Kimbley certainly doesn't. He finally nods, the smirk fading. "Yeah, alright. You got any idea where to look or are we just wandering aimlessly? I'm pretty sure I'll freeze to death if we've got no idea where we're going." We instead of you, apparently.
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