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?
[Bard has made it out of too many bad situations himself to doubt the foundation of Mirena's faith, so he gives her an apologetic nod.]
Then I hope we find a way out of here soon enough that he'll have nothing to mourn but his own absence from the side of such a kind woman. [And that's not just a line to play nice with the hostess; he totally means it.]
[ She allows a small curving upwards of her lips. He barely knows her, has no cause to flatter her, so she takes his words as they are offered; as a kindness.
It's her further thoughts, though, that cause her smile to fade. ]
It is not just my husband I fear for. My son has been left alone, as our enemies stand outside our gates — my son, whom the Sultan wished to take prisoner as a Janissary. I would have never left his side. But... [ ruefully, ] I suppose we have no control over that, none of us who've been brought here, that is.
[The finer points of her concern escape Bard's grasp, but the broader theme--worry for a child left vulnerable to the dangers of the world--is one that's dogged his mind every day since arriving here. He looks down briefly into his bowl, suddenly not so sure he'll be in the mood for more soup.]
My own children are alone while I'm here. I think our people and neighbors will be kind to them, since we've all recently come through war and dragonfire together, and they are each capable in their own way, but I'm all they've had for a long time, so I can't help but worry.
[ And now the tables are turned, between them; Mirena's eyes turn even more forlorn when she sees him stare vacantly into his bowl of soup as he speaks of his children, and especially when he refers to himself as their sole parent.
Her heart goes out to him. How often had she worried that the Sultan would come for Vlad once more, to lead the Janissaries in battle, leaving her alone for the rest of her life with Ingeras? If duty called he was obligated to respond, and although Bard's situation is different, she feels the depth of his loss as keenly as if it were her own. ]
...I'm sorry. [ She comes closer, near enough to place her fingers on the arm of his hand that holds the soup bowl. ] I know what you must be feeling. If your children have been through so much, then they are resilient — but it is a parent's job to worry, to always be concerned for them. [ Her voice is soft and a bit sad. ] We have no choice in the matter.
— Come, [ she entreats, ducking her head and tugging gently at his arm, now. ] Sit by the fire, with me. You're still chilled.
[It puts them back on even footing, at least: not a princess and a whatever Bard is right now, but people worrying about their kids while stuck in this frozen ghost town. A straggling band of orcs, a vicious storm, or even a poorly-timed flu could take any or all of his children this very night, and he wouldn't even have the means to find out.
But, as he reminds himself every night and as Mirena is reminding him now, there is also no reason to assume the worst. Not when Sigrid can turn anything into a blunt instrument, Bain has proven he can use a sword, Tilda is slippery as an eel, and all the peoples of the region are working together again. His children are as well-off as they could hope to be in his absence, truly.
Bard pulls himself together when Mirena tugs at his arm--perhaps a little too familiar, but for now they are friends in their shared suffering, so he lets it go unmentioned--and sets aside his bowl, which he seems to have emptied without noticing. He is still cold despite it, so the fire will be welcome, and he leaves the kitchen to seek it out.]
Thank you. I would say I'm not usually this grim, but back home I'm a very unpopular drunk.
[ Bard's children would sound better off by that description than Ingeras would — at least they can defend themselves from various foes, orcs or otherwise. She simply chooses not to think on how the Sultan and his armies could take her son easily, and she would never be the wiser for it in this frigid place.
But the safehouse is not so frigid, at least; it's cozy and insulated, and there is a warm hearth in the back of the house, which she leads him to — releasing his arm, though, because he may get the wrong idea if she seems too taken with touching him — when he makes a move to set down his bowl and follow her. He's tired as well as cold, Mirena can see from the lines on his face. ]
...Then it is a good thing we are without wine, tonight, [ said with a small smirk. His levity is welcome, after such a gravid subject.
She leads him down the hallway to the bedroom with the wood-burning fireplace, and takes one of the extra blankets off of the bed upon entering; when he draws nearer to the hearth and sits down before it, she drapes the blanket over his shoulders.
...Yes, maybe she's fussing over him, just a little. ]
Although any man who spins tales of dragons cannot possibly be that grim, even when drunk, I would imagine.
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snowblindmemes2015-05-12 07:10 am
no subject
Then I hope we find a way out of here soon enough that he'll have nothing to mourn but his own absence from the side of such a kind woman. [And that's not just a line to play nice with the hostess; he totally means it.]
no subject
It's her further thoughts, though, that cause her smile to fade. ]
It is not just my husband I fear for. My son has been left alone, as our enemies stand outside our gates — my son, whom the Sultan wished to take prisoner as a Janissary. I would have never left his side. But... [ ruefully, ] I suppose we have no control over that, none of us who've been brought here, that is.
no subject
My own children are alone while I'm here. I think our people and neighbors will be kind to them, since we've all recently come through war and dragonfire together, and they are each capable in their own way, but I'm all they've had for a long time, so I can't help but worry.
no subject
Her heart goes out to him. How often had she worried that the Sultan would come for Vlad once more, to lead the Janissaries in battle, leaving her alone for the rest of her life with Ingeras? If duty called he was obligated to respond, and although Bard's situation is different, she feels the depth of his loss as keenly as if it were her own. ]
...I'm sorry. [ She comes closer, near enough to place her fingers on the arm of his hand that holds the soup bowl. ] I know what you must be feeling. If your children have been through so much, then they are resilient — but it is a parent's job to worry, to always be concerned for them. [ Her voice is soft and a bit sad. ] We have no choice in the matter.
— Come, [ she entreats, ducking her head and tugging gently at his arm, now. ] Sit by the fire, with me. You're still chilled.
no subject
But, as he reminds himself every night and as Mirena is reminding him now, there is also no reason to assume the worst. Not when Sigrid can turn anything into a blunt instrument, Bain has proven he can use a sword, Tilda is slippery as an eel, and all the peoples of the region are working together again. His children are as well-off as they could hope to be in his absence, truly.
Bard pulls himself together when Mirena tugs at his arm--perhaps a little too familiar, but for now they are friends in their shared suffering, so he lets it go unmentioned--and sets aside his bowl, which he seems to have emptied without noticing. He is still cold despite it, so the fire will be welcome, and he leaves the kitchen to seek it out.]
Thank you. I would say I'm not usually this grim, but back home I'm a very unpopular drunk.
no subject
But the safehouse is not so frigid, at least; it's cozy and insulated, and there is a warm hearth in the back of the house, which she leads him to — releasing his arm, though, because he may get the wrong idea if she seems too taken with touching him — when he makes a move to set down his bowl and follow her. He's tired as well as cold, Mirena can see from the lines on his face. ]
...Then it is a good thing we are without wine, tonight, [ said with a small smirk. His levity is welcome, after such a gravid subject.
She leads him down the hallway to the bedroom with the wood-burning fireplace, and takes one of the extra blankets off of the bed upon entering; when he draws nearer to the hearth and sits down before it, she drapes the blanket over his shoulders.
...Yes, maybe she's fussing over him, just a little. ]
Although any man who spins tales of dragons cannot possibly be that grim, even when drunk, I would imagine.