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?
[ It is cruel to the point of worrying, a world that won’t bend beneath her fingers. Digging at the wood, pounding at the windows - none of it does any good. The closest building remains locked to her. Inside, lights are thrown out against the panes of glass, blots of orange and almost watery; the way they blink, there and not there, there and not there, makes Mikasa feel like the buildings themselves are laughing at her.
Eventually, when her mittens are bloodied and her boots soaked through, she slumps down against the nearest wall. The tablet is still alien to her and by now her fingers are resistant to moving, struggling rather unwillingly in the biting chill.
Typing, such as it is, does not go well. ]
c an someoeopen the
[ She didn’t mean to send the incomplete message but there it is, bouncing around the network, as unhelpful as anything.
The second one comes almost two minutes later. ]
door
[ What door, you may ask? – Good question. ]
» ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ.
[ Mikasa kneels over a crackling fire place, in stark contrast to the above prompt. Her coat is off, hanging over a chair to drip ineffectually onto the floor, and her boots are likewise deposited near the door - the tidiness involved is clear military, for obvious reasons. The scarf remains on, though. Her lips and eyelids are almost pale with hectic slashes of pink high up on her cheekbones; going from extreme cold to the thin beginnings of livable heat is an adjustment, telling its story in patches on her skin.
There had been a stack of newspapers in the corner for kindling. Mikasa had kept a few, including the most recent one, for the sake of dates and notable events in the area, but nothing was familiar. The rest had been hurled into the fire without forgiveness.
When the door creaks open, the entering party is held in her peripheral vision. Mistrustful without being aggressive, her back straightens as a prelude to action not taken. A cold person looking for shelter could be a threat, or - they could just be a cold person looking for shelter.
[ 8PM is signaled by an ominous click throughout the house he has taken refuge in. After a prompt, exhaustive investigation, he determines that the front door and every window has been sealed tight. Not even his strength can coax an opening in any of the frameworks. He doesn’t like it; these walls may shelter him from the unforgiving elements, but he’s become effectively trapped. A lifetime of battling Titans—and more monstrous beings still, humans themselves—has instilled within him the instinctive need to have escape routes readily available. Mindful of the temperature rapidly sinking, he performs a second sweep of the house for supplies but is rewarded with little. Someone has already scavenged this building, it seems.
He has few options. Levi locates the smallest enclosed space, a closet, and beds down there in a makeshift nest of tattered, musty sheets found upstairs. Once situated, he pulls out the strange machine from his pack to make a brief note on his current base. No resources, he types slowly, squinting at the artificial light, no fireplace.
By the hour he checks the messages on the machine, it’s far too late for Mikasa. Levi knows it. Understands it in cold, uncompromising certainty—she’s dead. Only a matter of time now. And yet he’s standing, shrugging off clingy sheets, throwing open the closet door to pace the breadth of the building. He's needlessly wasting energy, he thinks, but doesn't try to still himself. Outside, the wind howls like the stuff of his nightmares. ]
Mikasa. [ Forgoing a text response, he tries to set aside the knowledge that the sound of his voice, too harsh in the eerie silence, is all he can offer her now. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. ] Mikasa. Report. Where are you?
[ It’s a few minutes before the reply makes it back to her. By now, her tablet’s screen has dimmed and even drawing her fingers along it can’t make it brighten. She’s left squinting in the dingy snowfall in order to reply. Her voice is rusty from disuse, words barely more than a croak. Steel and surety only comes from military discipline - she’s quiet, as ever; assured, as ever. In the face of what she knows is coming, it’s all she can do. Willing her teeth to quit chattering, at least, is as much of a command as anything else. The sound is gone in an instant. ]
Captain.
[ There’s a note of respect there, instinctive. As a resource, she’s no longer useful to him, but - it was never quite like that, was it? Not with Levi. ]
West of the— the gas station, [ an unfamiliar bit of innovation, it takes Mikasa a frustrating beat to remember the name of it, ] and south of the library. Eighteen steps from the front doors. There’s a grey building.
[ And, she can’t get in there, either. She’s tried all these doors, windows, until frost bite threatened to set in and she could no longer risk keeping her hands uncovered. One arm is buried in her coat now, the other haplessly keeping the tablet alive. In the back of her mind, there’s a thought, don’t come out, you’re still useful, as if they were still in a war, recognised and officiated, and not dying off as the world abandoned them. It’s despair keeping her seated, and the possibility of an additional shoulder to bear it that keeps her silent.
Hoping he stays inside, hoping he doesn’t, Mikasa waits. ]
[ The precise directions enable him to pinpoint mentally where she must be, for all the good that it does him. Staring blindly out the nearest window, he runs a dozen different scenarios through his mind. They all end the same: glassy eyes gazing up into nothing, red scarf stiff and frozen to hardened skin, a body buried beneath snowdrifts—lost. When his gaze refocuses, he’s faced with the reflection of his own expression in the window. Levi turns away. ]
Every building is on lockdown, [ he informs her bluntly, tone not unkind. ] I can’t come to you.
[ I’m sorry, but this he doesn’t give voice to. Ackerman is an unusual young woman. Though fleeting, the time she has spent under his command has given him a deeper insight into her psyche. An apology is a kind of inevitability, a death sentence he believes she’ll accept without argument. Without Eren here to provide a trajectory for her, she needs a new goal, new motivation. Authority. ]
Get up. There should be a restroom built in the back of the gas station. You may be able to get in there. Keep talking to me while you move.
[ Levi’s no fool, hoping against hope. Mikasa will not survive the night. And yet he urges her onward, because he knows too intimately what it looks like when a soldier’s spirit dies before their body. ]
[ Her knees shake, quivering as she draws them up - until they aren’t. Until, with a silent, thick bidding, she stills them. A body should not be able to stand tall in this but hers does, almost defiantly straight up against the snow’s threatening bellow. The tablet is held close to her chest, screen facing up at a slant. Her reflection - what she can make of it - is absent warmth, promise. The cold has set deep into her skin, rendering her translucent, halfway to ghostly. Ruddy patches of red break it up, charmless. If Mikasa was the sort of person who worried overly about her appearance—
Well, she isn’t, and there are more important things to concern herself with. Blinking, partly to knock the stray flakes off her eyelashes, Mikasa listens and wills her cloying breath not to overpower the sound of his voice.
Get up, he tells her, the command and his voice lighting her blood like fire, move. ]
Okay.
[ Snow crunches audibly beneath her boots. Ice water from melted snow that’s clung to her soles laps up now, almost past her toes. They were not very sturdily made or, if they were, that resilience wore off after years of use. ]
I don’t see it yet.
[ It’s such an unnecessary thing observation to make, but he instructed her to keep talking and Mikasa doesn’t know what else to say. ]
If I had my 3DMG— [ Implication, the sort of burnt hope borne only by imagination and regret, goes unsaid. If she did have it, she wouldn’t be failing him right now. She’d be warm, maybe they would even be able to melt some snow for tea, and she could close her eyes and imagine Carla’s cooking, the ginger she’d put into her baked cookies for a special treat.
Anything but the static-filled, snowy pitch of bleakness in front of Mikasa Ackerman. ]
No, [ he interjects brusquely, and he walks silently from room to room of the house, mirroring every arduous step he has ordered her to take. ] If you had your gear, you’d get yourself killed trying to maneuver. Between these temperatures and the wind, the 3DMG would be a hindrance. So it’s better for you that you don’t have it, that it isn’t weighing you down.
[ Yet he recognizes why she mentions it. The equipment that has enabled them to engage an otherwise impossible enemy, the Titans—surely the 3DMG could create some kind of miracle for Mikasa in this bleak, hopeless moment. Maybe it’s cruel of him to disavow such a fantasy, but he does nothing to soften the blow of his words. After all, he isn’t like the others: Hange, capable of scattering the shadows of hardship with a grin and easy camaraderie; Erwin, capable of reshaping humanity’s poisonous fear into a weapon through inspiring sincerity. ]
Mikasa, I—
[ A pause, and he frowns at himself before changing tack. ]
Switch it over. Show me.
[ Levi is asking, awkwardly, for a video feed. He demonstrates as much on his side of the transmission, staring at the camera with a tight, thin-lipped expression. Only the light from the tablet illuminates his face; empty darkness yawns hungrily behind him. ]
[ The heat born by that disagreement is enough to ignite her, her steps becoming heavier and more assured. A spark, nothing more, and a shade of her usual - but there’s steel in her voice where there wasn’t before. A determination, both to prove herself and prove him wrong. She’d use the howling winds to her advantage, move with them and not against them. Exertion would heat her once her blood began pumping, a bout of energy too fast for the cold to catch up to.
This may be the worst time for a bout of adolescent-flavoured you know nothing, old man, but there’s a bite to her tone, replacing resignation.
It continues, emphasis almost sour, ]
Sir.
[ But, when he asks for a video feed, she acquiesces immediately. Well, the immediacy is in the intent; actual execution takes a few moments longer. She has to tug the fingers of her glove down again to hit the right buttons, and those few moments are a risk of frostbite. Eventually, Mikasa appears in his video. Her lips are pale, almost discoloured, and the edges of her eyelids nearly match. The scarf has been tugged down for the time being, snug against her chin without protecting the full lower half of her face. It’s for ease of talking, and although ill-advised - it won’t matter soon anyway.
She only has one hand to curl over her heart, a singular fist available to her, so the gesture is done by halves. ]
[ Ackerman’s response takes him aback. A myriad of subtle emotions ripple rapidly across his expression, and the smile widowed in their wake is a small, strained thing—there and gone. If only the fire blazing in her heart was enough to save her. Maybe it will, he realizes. Not tonight, no. But on the morrow, when she stirs in a makeshift, metal coffin beneath the morgue… She’ll need that spirit. ]
Noted.
[ There’s no attempt made to argue with her; he refuses to be baited into debating the limitations and possibilities of equipment he knows better than any other. Mikasa is without a doubt as stubborn as her “brother.” ]
Are you an idiot? [ Scowling faintly, he shakes his head. ] Cover up your face, brat. I can hear you just fine through the scarf.
[ Harsh rebuke delivered, he then shifts his weight and acknowledges her salute with one of his own. Approval darkens his gaze. ]
[ The moment he grants permission, the scarf is tugged back up over her mouth and nose. It doesn’t make much difference, however. By now, the scarf is hardened with the cold, moisture from the snow having melted from her breath and then frozen over anew as the temperature dropped further and further. Much difference is, however infinitesimally, not the same as no difference. It’s a comfort, as much as anything, memories of home and warmth and Eren soothing her.
And the salute, well. Something in her lifts, rising from recognition. ]
I see it.
[ He was right. The gas station does have a public toilet attached to the back, although long abandoned. The tablet is flipped around to show him the darkened area, high pine trees blotting out whatever little evening light was left. The mortar of the building is weakened, almost rotted, and graffiti colours the brick walls on and on. Kicking out toward the door, wood splinters under her heel but doesn’t give. A second attempt, a third - all nothing.
Mikasa’s breath has grown heavier now, the chill turning every small bit of exertion into a marathon. Panting, she resumes looking at the video, her eyes slowly losing their burn of disagreement from mere moments before. ]
[ The video on Levi’s end drops away from his face for several moments; he does not wish her to see the look twisting it. Either way, it seems Mikasa will not be spared. It was a gamble, the gas station—and gambles have always been more Erwin’s specialty. A surge of hot fury suddenly courses through him, igniting his blood like wildfire. In the past, he has been able to redirect guilt and hatred toward the eradication of the Titans. Here, there’s only the careless, barking laughter of the wind. ]
Enough, [ he tells her, words shoved out between clenched teeth. ] Don’t work up a sweat.
[ Once the perspiration cools, she’ll… ]
You’ve done well. [ The praise comes unexpected even to him, but he doesn’t hesitate to continue. ] Tomorrow, you’re with me. Got it?
[ There’ll be a tomorrow for her. He’ll come for her. This won’t happen again. ]
The thought of it gets lodged within her, like her tongue wedged to the roof of her mouth. The impossibility of it is cloying. Under her half-frozen hands, the chill biting sharp and angry in her cheeks, Mikasa draws a steady breath; even that is half ice, however.
Against the wall, she sits down. Her legs are folded neatly beneath her, the precision inarguably military.
Quietly: ] Yes sir.
[ Lifting her head to the sky, she takes in what few stars have begun to glow. Someone more prone to whimsy might see laughter in their bright lights, the way it fades and sharpens in turn - but that’s not Mikasa. Never has been. She focuses solely on what is, eschewing dreams and delights for practicality, for survival. Tonight, she failed. But, there’s tomorrow, and Levi’s guiding hand. He would never say anything he didn’t mean. Knowing that, his faded words of praise ring warm and, for the moment, enough.
There's no regret in her tone, no sadness or ill will, when she adds, ]
I left a pile of wood out by that old diner, the one with the broken metal rods on the roof. [ Those are antenna, Mikasa. ] It should still be there in the morning.
[ Once more, he mirrors her. Without releasing the tablet in order to support himself against the wall, he neatly folds his body into a seated position on the floor. Across the transmission, she lifts her chin and he watches, gaze severe in its intensity. There is nothing more he can offer her; he will bear witness to her death, a sacrifice he will never allow to be rendered meaningless. ]
Good. [ His chest aches, but his steady voice betrays nothing. ] You’ll help me bring it to base then.
[ Tomorrow, when her arms and feet can move once more, when her lungs pulse for air. He’ll give an order and she’ll be able bodied to obey it. Freezing to death and waking up seems as shapeless as any miracle, well beyond her comprehension, but she’ll damn well take it if it’s offered.
His expression is muted, what little she catches of it. Mute, mint-sharp contemplation and it sits so oddly on him. A moment doesn’t pass that Mikasa is unaware of it.
Her fingers are numb, too steady with it, nail beds blackening as her skin stretches, bloating with frostbite. ]
- captain?
[ One more thing, while she still has air to give her words on. ]
[There's someone here already. A girl around his age hunched over a crackling fireplace. The flames dance along the reflective lenses of his glasses, the relief palpable in the boy's features. But he's quickly snapped back to reality at Mikasa's words, and he gives her a short nod.]
Right. [A beat before he adds a hasty - ] Sorry.
[ - and shuts the door behind him, forcing the cold back outside. He removes his glasses, cautiously folding them back up and stowing them away in the jacket pocket of his uniform. He doesn't step any closer, however, remaining by the door with his head slightly bowed in apology.]
I didn't mean to intrude. I just...
[He's just so cold. And tired. And pretty miserable, if he's gonna be honest. All of which are pretty evident in his ragged voice. He glances back up at her again.]
[ Impassively, Mikasa watches, continuing to hold the young man in her periphery. Her first guess had been right, then. He was like her, seeking reprieve from the bitter chill. Setting the last few newspaper aside for later, she rises to a standing position. His words are waited out with a too-still sort of patience, just on the eerie side of polite. ]
It’s fine.
[ She hadn’t been startled, of course, but there’s no reason to waste her breath pointing that out. Besides, she can hardly fault him for doing the exact same thing she had done. ]
The tap’s working, if you want water.
[ The small kitchenette is mostly empty. Whatever food is in the fridge is long spoiled, a few non-perishables tucked up in the high cupboards, but the tap water runs free and clean. It’s an old cabin, maybe—the downstairs floor is one large room, with a few locked closets, cozy and carpeted but not stocked for year-round living. A wide, oaken staircase spirals to an unexplored second floor. Eventually, it will need to be combed as well, but - not yet. Not before the warmth of the fire has yet to fill the whole house. ]
[Yu briefly looks away from her, over in the direction of the kitchenette just nearby. He certainly is parched. He returns his attention to her, lips curling slightly into a relieved smile.]
Thank you.
[Now that she's given him clearance to enter, Yu slips off his shoes by the door, so as not to track anything in, and wanders over to the kitchenette. It's not terribly dissimilar from the small kitchen space back at his uncle's - the glasses are right where he'd expect them to be in the cupboard, and he takes one out for himself.
There's a fridge nearby, too. Back home, he'd always be investigating his uncle's for something new, always curious to try a new snack. Hungry as he is, though, he decides against investigating the fridge for now. Even now, he might not have nearly enough Courage to find out what's inside.
No, he'll settle just for the water right now - he takes the glass to the sink, fills it up, and promptly chugs it down, setting the glass down on the countertop when he's finished. Usually he's a bit more polite, but given the circumstances... Oh well. He rubs a sleeve over his mouth to wipe it dry before taking in his full surroundings.
The room itself doesn't leave much to the imagination - a couple of cupboards here and there, some old newspapers that had been tucked away. There's the spiral staircase as well, but Yu's not about to start wandering around a stranger's cabin like that.
The girl's uniform, however. That's something different. Different from the vintage Yasogami jacket that hangs damply off Yu's frame, anyway. That large crest on the back of her coat... Could she be from a military academy, maybe? He doesn't ask. Better, he figures, to make introductions first.]
[ Mikasa, for her part, can’t make much of anything from Souji’s appearance. Having never been properly educated outside of the military, she’s never seen a school uniform. The oddities of his outfit, neat embroidery and logos tucked within, are completely lost on her. He’s taller than her, which isn’t always common with young men her own age - or even men twice her age - and, if she were more apt at comparing people, he might remind her of Bertholdt. Fortunately, Mikasa isn’t that whimsical. She looks at a stranger and sees a stranger.
Well, not a stranger now.
Yu Narukami. Similar to her in some respects, although she doesn’t know of it. If Mikasa had been told more about her mother’s culture, it may have occurred to her. If Mikasa had much tendency or need to look in the mirror, it may have occurred to her. ]
Mikasa Ackerman.
[ Of the 104th. Meaningless to him, of course. With no ears to hear it, it goes unsaid. Primly, with little emotion behind it, she adds, ]
[Her tone is somewhat stiff, but Yu thinks nothing of it. Given the unfavorable circumstances, he can't really blame her - and back home, back when he'd first moved to Yasogami, he used to behave pretty similarly. He'd learned a lot over the course of the last year there about himself and others, one of the most important lessons being to look deeper than what's presented at first glance.]
It's good to meet you, too. [Then, after a moment:] Have you been here long?
[He's mainly referring to the cabin, not to Norfinbury, but he'd be curious to know if her experiences thus far have been that much different than his.]
[ Perhaps a bit less than that. There’s no way to tell time here, with the sky pitched out by snow and even electricity is a gamble. It’s the least of Mikasa’s worries, at any rate. Military discipline gives her some idea of the time spent, but it can’t be considered clarity.
She helps herself to a glass of water, mirroring his actions from a moment ago. ]
We both got lucky. [ Despite her reserved nature, Mikasa is economical with survival. No time is wasted. ] We should see what else in here is worth scavenging.
Right. [His gaze brushes past Mikasa to the old oaken staircase.] Have you already been upstairs?
[If she's been here a few hours, she has to at least have combed through the first floor by this point. If there's anything left to uncover in this place, it'd have to be up on the second floor.]
[Not unlike the first prompt, Eren's soaked through and through. Somehow, it isn't frostbite that's accompanying him through the door, but exhaustion. Rather, he's really damn tired and while frostbite is a very possible thing to endure for the near future, fatigue is what's getting to him now. After a day of searching, neglecting his tablet and generally rushing about in a frenzy, Eren wants nothing more than to just rest somewhere dry and try to make better sense of everything when he isn't so overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed by the elements, the change in scenery, it's a bit of everything and yet, the second that familiar tone hits his ears....
He perks up, his eyes go wide and automatically locate Mikasa's kneeling form. It's a certain weight off his shoulders and now that he's found someone he can actually relate to (unintended pun????), things aren't so absurd.
Like, maybe there's a concrete reason for all of this. Something he hadn't been told.]
Mikasa-?!
[Just to confirm, though. This could also be a hallucination. He's prone to them.]
Immediately, she’s up, spinning, her entire axis upended at the sound of that voice. Relief floods her without end; Eren is here and whole. He’s looking a little cold, certainly, but none too worse for wear. For a moment, she’s frozen (pun not intended!!), her feet all but cemented to the floor as she ingests all this. Her eyes widen, not quite quivering but somewhere close to. A burst of emotion leaves her unstrung.
If she could have spent all day and all night out in the cold and the snow searching for him, she would have. It hadn’t been feasible, the dropping temperature had urged her inward. In a moment, she’ll be kicking herself, because Eren had been out there and she had just left him -
But, that’s in a moment. For now, she’s rushing to his side the second her feet can move. ]
[At first, he may look like a specter - or an illusion. If not for the fact that he's soaking wet and entirely too tired to look like a mirage. If Mikasa hadn't been hidden behind the door, he would've been content to simply collapse and sleep until he felt like trying to understand his circumstances...or at least until his clothes dried.
Of course, before he can even figure out where to begin, before he can ask how she is, even with that delay (wherein he too was rather astonished; wandering about all on your own for an undisclosed amount of time, growing more and more certain about imminent death and never seeing anyone familiar again might do that to you), she's mothering him. It's something he doesn't mind, for a change. He's relieved...if anything. Reluctantly so. She's acting entirely as she should be, which means she's...fine. Probably. Of course, Mikasa's the type of person who'd use her last breath to ask him how he's feeling, but for now it's sufficient in many ways.]
I'm alright. [He moves to grab her hand with that, but hesitates. His hands are frozen, his fingertips hardly able to move, even. Now's a bad time to entwine fingers.] What about you? It's -- warmer in here.
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snowblindmemes2015-05-12 07:10 am
mikasa ackerman / attack on titan | ota.
no subject
He has few options. Levi locates the smallest enclosed space, a closet, and beds down there in a makeshift nest of tattered, musty sheets found upstairs. Once situated, he pulls out the strange machine from his pack to make a brief note on his current base. No resources, he types slowly, squinting at the artificial light, no fireplace.
By the hour he checks the messages on the machine, it’s far too late for Mikasa. Levi knows it. Understands it in cold, uncompromising certainty—she’s dead. Only a matter of time now. And yet he’s standing, shrugging off clingy sheets, throwing open the closet door to pace the breadth of the building. He's needlessly wasting energy, he thinks, but doesn't try to still himself. Outside, the wind howls like the stuff of his nightmares. ]
Mikasa. [ Forgoing a text response, he tries to set aside the knowledge that the sound of his voice, too harsh in the eerie silence, is all he can offer her now. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. ] Mikasa. Report. Where are you?
no subject
Captain.
[ There’s a note of respect there, instinctive. As a resource, she’s no longer useful to him, but - it was never quite like that, was it? Not with Levi. ]
West of the— the gas station, [ an unfamiliar bit of innovation, it takes Mikasa a frustrating beat to remember the name of it, ] and south of the library. Eighteen steps from the front doors. There’s a grey building.
[ And, she can’t get in there, either. She’s tried all these doors, windows, until frost bite threatened to set in and she could no longer risk keeping her hands uncovered. One arm is buried in her coat now, the other haplessly keeping the tablet alive. In the back of her mind, there’s a thought, don’t come out, you’re still useful, as if they were still in a war, recognised and officiated, and not dying off as the world abandoned them. It’s despair keeping her seated, and the possibility of an additional shoulder to bear it that keeps her silent.
Hoping he stays inside, hoping he doesn’t, Mikasa waits. ]
no subject
Every building is on lockdown, [ he informs her bluntly, tone not unkind. ] I can’t come to you.
[ I’m sorry, but this he doesn’t give voice to. Ackerman is an unusual young woman. Though fleeting, the time she has spent under his command has given him a deeper insight into her psyche. An apology is a kind of inevitability, a death sentence he believes she’ll accept without argument. Without Eren here to provide a trajectory for her, she needs a new goal, new motivation. Authority. ]
Get up. There should be a restroom built in the back of the gas station. You may be able to get in there. Keep talking to me while you move.
[ Levi’s no fool, hoping against hope. Mikasa will not survive the night. And yet he urges her onward, because he knows too intimately what it looks like when a soldier’s spirit dies before their body. ]
no subject
Well, she isn’t, and there are more important things to concern herself with. Blinking, partly to knock the stray flakes off her eyelashes, Mikasa listens and wills her cloying breath not to overpower the sound of his voice.
Get up, he tells her, the command and his voice lighting her blood like fire, move. ]
Okay.
[ Snow crunches audibly beneath her boots. Ice water from melted snow that’s clung to her soles laps up now, almost past her toes. They were not very sturdily made or, if they were, that resilience wore off after years of use. ]
I don’t see it yet.
[ It’s such an unnecessary thing observation to make, but he instructed her to keep talking and Mikasa doesn’t know what else to say. ]
If I had my 3DMG— [ Implication, the sort of burnt hope borne only by imagination and regret, goes unsaid. If she did have it, she wouldn’t be failing him right now. She’d be warm, maybe they would even be able to melt some snow for tea, and she could close her eyes and imagine Carla’s cooking, the ginger she’d put into her baked cookies for a special treat.
Anything but the static-filled, snowy pitch of bleakness in front of Mikasa Ackerman. ]
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[ Yet he recognizes why she mentions it. The equipment that has enabled them to engage an otherwise impossible enemy, the Titans—surely the 3DMG could create some kind of miracle for Mikasa in this bleak, hopeless moment. Maybe it’s cruel of him to disavow such a fantasy, but he does nothing to soften the blow of his words. After all, he isn’t like the others: Hange, capable of scattering the shadows of hardship with a grin and easy camaraderie; Erwin, capable of reshaping humanity’s poisonous fear into a weapon through inspiring sincerity. ]
Mikasa, I—
[ A pause, and he frowns at himself before changing tack. ]
Switch it over. Show me.
[ Levi is asking, awkwardly, for a video feed. He demonstrates as much on his side of the transmission, staring at the camera with a tight, thin-lipped expression. Only the light from the tablet illuminates his face; empty darkness yawns hungrily behind him. ]
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[ The heat born by that disagreement is enough to ignite her, her steps becoming heavier and more assured. A spark, nothing more, and a shade of her usual - but there’s steel in her voice where there wasn’t before. A determination, both to prove herself and prove him wrong. She’d use the howling winds to her advantage, move with them and not against them. Exertion would heat her once her blood began pumping, a bout of energy too fast for the cold to catch up to.
This may be the worst time for a bout of adolescent-flavoured you know nothing, old man, but there’s a bite to her tone, replacing resignation.
It continues, emphasis almost sour, ]
Sir.
[ But, when he asks for a video feed, she acquiesces immediately. Well, the immediacy is in the intent; actual execution takes a few moments longer. She has to tug the fingers of her glove down again to hit the right buttons, and those few moments are a risk of frostbite. Eventually, Mikasa appears in his video. Her lips are pale, almost discoloured, and the edges of her eyelids nearly match. The scarf has been tugged down for the time being, snug against her chin without protecting the full lower half of her face. It’s for ease of talking, and although ill-advised - it won’t matter soon anyway.
She only has one hand to curl over her heart, a singular fist available to her, so the gesture is done by halves. ]
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Noted.
[ There’s no attempt made to argue with her; he refuses to be baited into debating the limitations and possibilities of equipment he knows better than any other. Mikasa is without a doubt as stubborn as her “brother.” ]
Are you an idiot? [ Scowling faintly, he shakes his head. ] Cover up your face, brat. I can hear you just fine through the scarf.
[ Harsh rebuke delivered, he then shifts his weight and acknowledges her salute with one of his own. Approval darkens his gaze. ]
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And the salute, well. Something in her lifts, rising from recognition. ]
I see it.
[ He was right. The gas station does have a public toilet attached to the back, although long abandoned. The tablet is flipped around to show him the darkened area, high pine trees blotting out whatever little evening light was left. The mortar of the building is weakened, almost rotted, and graffiti colours the brick walls on and on. Kicking out toward the door, wood splinters under her heel but doesn’t give. A second attempt, a third - all nothing.
Mikasa’s breath has grown heavier now, the chill turning every small bit of exertion into a marathon. Panting, she resumes looking at the video, her eyes slowly losing their burn of disagreement from mere moments before. ]
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Enough, [ he tells her, words shoved out between clenched teeth. ] Don’t work up a sweat.
[ Once the perspiration cools, she’ll… ]
You’ve done well. [ The praise comes unexpected even to him, but he doesn’t hesitate to continue. ] Tomorrow, you’re with me. Got it?
[ There’ll be a tomorrow for her. He’ll come for her. This won’t happen again. ]
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The thought of it gets lodged within her, like her tongue wedged to the roof of her mouth. The impossibility of it is cloying. Under her half-frozen hands, the chill biting sharp and angry in her cheeks, Mikasa draws a steady breath; even that is half ice, however.
Against the wall, she sits down. Her legs are folded neatly beneath her, the precision inarguably military.
Quietly: ] Yes sir.
[ Lifting her head to the sky, she takes in what few stars have begun to glow. Someone more prone to whimsy might see laughter in their bright lights, the way it fades and sharpens in turn - but that’s not Mikasa. Never has been. She focuses solely on what is, eschewing dreams and delights for practicality, for survival. Tonight, she failed. But, there’s tomorrow, and Levi’s guiding hand. He would never say anything he didn’t mean. Knowing that, his faded words of praise ring warm and, for the moment, enough.
There's no regret in her tone, no sadness or ill will, when she adds, ]
I left a pile of wood out by that old diner, the one with the broken metal rods on the roof. [ Those are antenna, Mikasa. ] It should still be there in the morning.
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Good. [ His chest aches, but his steady voice betrays nothing. ] You’ll help me bring it to base then.
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His expression is muted, what little she catches of it. Mute, mint-sharp contemplation and it sits so oddly on him. A moment doesn’t pass that Mikasa is unaware of it.
Her fingers are numb, too steady with it, nail beds blackening as her skin stretches, bloating with frostbite. ]
- captain?
[ One more thing, while she still has air to give her words on. ]
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Right. [A beat before he adds a hasty - ] Sorry.
[ - and shuts the door behind him, forcing the cold back outside. He removes his glasses, cautiously folding them back up and stowing them away in the jacket pocket of his uniform. He doesn't step any closer, however, remaining by the door with his head slightly bowed in apology.]
I didn't mean to intrude. I just...
[He's just so cold. And tired. And pretty miserable, if he's gonna be honest. All of which are pretty evident in his ragged voice. He glances back up at her again.]
Sorry if I startled you.
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It’s fine.
[ She hadn’t been startled, of course, but there’s no reason to waste her breath pointing that out. Besides, she can hardly fault him for doing the exact same thing she had done. ]
The tap’s working, if you want water.
[ The small kitchenette is mostly empty. Whatever food is in the fridge is long spoiled, a few non-perishables tucked up in the high cupboards, but the tap water runs free and clean. It’s an old cabin, maybe—the downstairs floor is one large room, with a few locked closets, cozy and carpeted but not stocked for year-round living. A wide, oaken staircase spirals to an unexplored second floor. Eventually, it will need to be combed as well, but - not yet. Not before the warmth of the fire has yet to fill the whole house. ]
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Thank you.
[Now that she's given him clearance to enter, Yu slips off his shoes by the door, so as not to track anything in, and wanders over to the kitchenette. It's not terribly dissimilar from the small kitchen space back at his uncle's - the glasses are right where he'd expect them to be in the cupboard, and he takes one out for himself.
There's a fridge nearby, too. Back home, he'd always be investigating his uncle's for something new, always curious to try a new snack. Hungry as he is, though, he decides against investigating the fridge for now. Even now, he might not have nearly enough Courage to find out what's inside.
No, he'll settle just for the water right now - he takes the glass to the sink, fills it up, and promptly chugs it down, setting the glass down on the countertop when he's finished. Usually he's a bit more polite, but given the circumstances... Oh well. He rubs a sleeve over his mouth to wipe it dry before taking in his full surroundings.
The room itself doesn't leave much to the imagination - a couple of cupboards here and there, some old newspapers that had been tucked away. There's the spiral staircase as well, but Yu's not about to start wandering around a stranger's cabin like that.
The girl's uniform, however. That's something different. Different from the vintage Yasogami jacket that hangs damply off Yu's frame, anyway. That large crest on the back of her coat... Could she be from a military academy, maybe? He doesn't ask. Better, he figures, to make introductions first.]
My name's Yu Narukami. What's yours?
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Well, not a stranger now.
Yu Narukami. Similar to her in some respects, although she doesn’t know of it. If Mikasa had been told more about her mother’s culture, it may have occurred to her. If Mikasa had much tendency or need to look in the mirror, it may have occurred to her. ]
Mikasa Ackerman.
[ Of the 104th. Meaningless to him, of course. With no ears to hear it, it goes unsaid. Primly, with little emotion behind it, she adds, ]
Nice to meet you.
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It's good to meet you, too. [Then, after a moment:] Have you been here long?
[He's mainly referring to the cabin, not to Norfinbury, but he'd be curious to know if her experiences thus far have been that much different than his.]
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[ Perhaps a bit less than that. There’s no way to tell time here, with the sky pitched out by snow and even electricity is a gamble. It’s the least of Mikasa’s worries, at any rate. Military discipline gives her some idea of the time spent, but it can’t be considered clarity.
She helps herself to a glass of water, mirroring his actions from a moment ago. ]
We both got lucky. [ Despite her reserved nature, Mikasa is economical with survival. No time is wasted. ] We should see what else in here is worth scavenging.
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[If she's been here a few hours, she has to at least have combed through the first floor by this point. If there's anything left to uncover in this place, it'd have to be up on the second floor.]
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No.
[ Finishing the entire glass in two gulps, she sets it back down, wiping her mouth on the heel of her hand. ]
I was waiting for the heat, [ of the crackling fire, ] to travel.
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Overwhelmed by the elements, the change in scenery, it's a bit of everything and yet, the second that familiar tone hits his ears....
He perks up, his eyes go wide and automatically locate Mikasa's kneeling form. It's a certain weight off his shoulders and now that he's found someone he can actually relate to (unintended pun????), things aren't so absurd.
Like, maybe there's a concrete reason for all of this. Something he hadn't been told.]
Mikasa-?!
[Just to confirm, though. This could also be a hallucination. He's prone to them.]
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Immediately, she’s up, spinning, her entire axis upended at the sound of that voice. Relief floods her without end; Eren is here and whole. He’s looking a little cold, certainly, but none too worse for wear. For a moment, she’s frozen (pun not intended!!), her feet all but cemented to the floor as she ingests all this. Her eyes widen, not quite quivering but somewhere close to. A burst of emotion leaves her unstrung.
If she could have spent all day and all night out in the cold and the snow searching for him, she would have. It hadn’t been feasible, the dropping temperature had urged her inward. In a moment, she’ll be kicking herself, because Eren had been out there and she had just left him -
But, that’s in a moment. For now, she’s rushing to his side the second her feet can move. ]
Eren.
[ Desperately, her eyes search him. ]
Are you alright?
REARS MY DUMB ASS ONCE MORE
Of course, before he can even figure out where to begin, before he can ask how she is, even with that delay (wherein he too was rather astonished; wandering about all on your own for an undisclosed amount of time, growing more and more certain about imminent death and never seeing anyone familiar again might do that to you), she's mothering him. It's something he doesn't mind, for a change. He's relieved...if anything. Reluctantly so. She's acting entirely as she should be, which means she's...fine. Probably. Of course, Mikasa's the type of person who'd use her last breath to ask him how he's feeling, but for now it's sufficient in many ways.]
I'm alright. [He moves to grab her hand with that, but hesitates. His hands are frozen, his fingertips hardly able to move, even. Now's a bad time to entwine fingers.] What about you? It's -- warmer in here.
[Good job, Mikasa.]