[ Power brings responsibility. Duty breeds obligation. Prominence invites expectation. These are things Euphemia has known since she was a child. That the world is beautiful, but it is not fair. Since coming of age, she has not once had a relationship for her own self. She is what her family wants her to be.
Cornelia demands that she be strong. That she bear the weight placed upon her without bending or tiring. That she be fierce and fearless and beholden to nothing and no one. Clovis wishes her to be like lace and chiffon, delicate and sweet. To speak silk words and make no ripples, cause no waves. Schneizel sees her as an asset, as someone to be guided, to be put into play. He hopes that she be clever, with a wit as sharp as any blade. And Charles, their father, he wants of her as he wants of all of his children. He demands obedience, that each of them fortify the empire he has carved out of their world.
Euphemia is all of these things. She is glad to be them. She would like all of her family happy, with her and with each other. She is grateful to Cornelia for teaching her to be self sufficient and self reliant, grateful to Clovis for helping her learn how to be more social, more open, more welcoming. She is grateful to Schneizel for recognizing her strengths, and to their father for inspiring her to be loyal.
She is everything, but she is alone.
The older she gets, the more bound to her loneliness she becomes. A web of politics, of her position and how her value as a person is colored by that rank. She harder she pushes against it, the harder it pushes back.
With the terrorist attacks of late, the destabilization of Area 11 and the racial tensions mounting on a global scale, there is no time left to her. Cornelia commands armies. Clovis hasn't had a real conversation with her since they were both small. Schneizel makes time for her when he can, but her words never seem to quite reach him. The rest of her family is estranged to her.
She doesn't think she's strong enough. The weight is too much, the world's need too great.
She can't remember the last time she thought of needs of her own.
It would be nice, she thinks, to get to go to school. To make friends. To do things that... people do, for themselves. Help organize a festival. Stay up all night talking about their dreams, the future.
It only occurs to Euphie just how long she's been standing outside the bookstore when it starts to rain. She gives a start, blinking at the overcast sky as the rain picks up, and she gives a heavy, faintly irritated sigh. At herself, mostly. Cornelia would give her the lecture of a lifetime if she caught her little sister acting like this, if Cornelia had that sort of time these days.
Standing outside a bookstore lost in thought over a boy. ]
[ An umbrella interjects over the scene faster than the words that follow do. ]
Excuse me, miss.
[ Despite the faux-cordiality of the address, Gaelio's voice is unmistakable. Measured, just the slightest bit brash. Good-natured but sharp. He tips his umbrella over Euphemia to shield her from the rain. Droplets roll off its curved surface, well past her shoulders. Ducked beneath it thanks to his height, his eyebrows raise as if he's about to dish a delicious secret. As if they're strangers, rather than childhood friends who share more than just this one umbrella. ]
I have it on very good authority that making faces like that causes premature and entirely undue wrinkles. [ His brow knits and he taps his foot, just for the drama of it. ] As I recall, it was a young lady much like yourself. Tall, beautiful hair — the talk of the empire, really.
[ An enterprising handwave. ]
I'd take her advice, if I were you.
[ Righting himself, Gaelio Bauduin flashes a pompous grin. It would be remiss of him to pass up a gentle ribbing. That's how it's been, ever since they were young. Britannia's princess and the first son of the Bauduin house, one of the most famed pillars of the Seven Stars. One would think a soldier of his pedigree and rank would be a little less... cavalier, but it's for precisely that reason that he's among the more popular of the heirs to the most powerful autonomous peacekeeping force in the Earth Sphere. Gaelio makes it look easy. The ceremony, the glamour, the pressure. It rolls off his back as water does off feathers. Usually, his partner in crime proves herself to be cut from the same cloth, but today —
Well, Gaelio passes a look over her, hefting a rather absurdly huge bouquet of flowers in his free arm. ]
All right, look here — ah, I see that! Don't make that face, Luci! I told you before, we're absolutely not giving up on this! [ SIGH ] Just what do you take my word for, anyway?
[ Harper is currently poised over her best friend with a damp cloth in hand, quite ready to just keep going on and on until she has her way. Because today is a special day. Today is the day that Harper took on a challenge more monumental than any other in her ridiculous, charmed, and somewhat hectic life as a baker, student, part-time magical girl, and friend.
Today is the day she and Luci bake something without destroying her kitchen.
Granted, an egg has already ended up on the ceiling, her food processor is cowering in fear and down for the count, and Luci had just somehow managed to use her mixer to send a totally innocent concoction of oil and flour up in a glorious plume that now coats them both, but she is not giving up. Whoever said Harper wasn't hot-blooded has clearly never seen her in the kitchen. Squaring herself, she sighs, reaching out to take Luci's chin. ]
Both girls knew that this was going to end up being a Mistake. Even before things started going wrong, as Luci knotted her apron slowly in an attempt to defuse her nervous energy, she fidgeted. And it was that fidgeting that began this cloud of trouble—one that would eventually become a literal cloud, flour now covering both girls and everything in the immediate proximity of the mixer.
Hacking, coughing and sputtering, Luci let out an exasperated groan. Can't they just give up already, Harper? She was a lost cause. ]
I'm not making a face!
[ She was making a face.
A gentle huff, she let Harper take her chin, looking very much like a child who had been caught doing something wrong, expecting scolding. Apologetic, guilty. ]
[ Holding Luci's chin firmly between her thumb and the curled flat of her index finger, she dutifully begins wiping off the flour coating. Granted, some of the stuff is still settling, powdery swirls visible in the later afternoon light coming in through the window. Harper swears it's worse than glitter, and Harper knows a thing or two about glitter. With the cloth folded to a triangle edge, she dabs and swipes with laser-like precision.
Also very gently, but she's trying to appear authoritative, all the same. ]
If I'm not giving up on you, you can't give up on you.
[ With an expression akin to a cat having just gotten a bath, she begrudgingly lets Harper have her way, although not without looking absolutely dreadful about it. It's on her face, on her clothes, in her hair. All of this screamed Bad Idea That Had Been Waiting To Happen. She was trying to give you an out, bestie. And... well, give herself one too, because honestly her talent was in eating sweets, not making them. ]
I know, but—
[ "No buts!" She could hear her saying it already and, immediately backing down, Luci exhaled. ]
I'm not good at this. I'm never going to be good at this. I don't have a talent for things like this like you do. All I'm going to do is end up messing up your kitchen more than I already have.
Excuse me, Lucianna. My kitchen is tougher than it looks, thank you.
[ Which isn't exactly a rebuttal to Luci's self-deprecation, but it is full of enough girly spite to hopefully drop that argument where it stands. Her motions even out after that, gently dabbing and swiping every patch of white that she can get to. Eyebrows, cheekbones, the curve of her upper lip. Once Harper is satisfied that Luci isn't going to make a break for it, she releases her chin with a sigh.
The fact that she's more preoccupied with the state of her friend than she is with the state of her poor countertop is indicative enough without her having to stoop to point it out. ]
What's made you so nervous about this, anyway?
[ Besides the obvious.
Not like they ever bring up the Burning Spatula Incident of 2012... ]
[ That might be true, but she didn't want a repeat of the Springfrom Pan Fiasco of 2014. The Home Ec room was never the same after that...
Luci was well aware of how much of a kitchen disaster she was, and truthfully she wouldn't have gone with this if she didn't have something in mind. Being in the kitchen was like a special circle of Hell for her, a constant reminder of her imperfections and the fact that she could be so bad at something.
And maybe she had ridiculous expectations for herself, but... ]
Eh?
[ With a fluttered blink, the blond looked up toward the ceiling.
(Busted) ]
What? Me, nervous? Harper, you know me! I'm never nervous about anything!
[ Several things flicker over Harper's face. The speed of it is actually impressive — realization, disbelief, exasperation. All of which flatten out into a single expression that takes a turn for the dramatic. She drops her hands, clutching the cloth between them. It always was her kind of flair. ]
Aa~h. We've been friends for so long, Lucianna Edwards. And still, you think you can get away with lying to me...
[ BREAK HER HEART, WHY DON'T YOU. Harper's fists ball, arms crooking in a flourish so she can place them judgmentally on her hips. All she does is stare for a long, drawn out moment. Think about what you've done, young lady.
Granted, the effect is probably somewhat dulled by the fact that she's also still covered in flour.
But who's counting, really. ]
Don't I deserve a "not complete" truth, then? You still didn't answer my question.
[ Oh. Oh Luci knew that look, her hands placed firmly on her hips, staring her down. Weighing her down with ten tons of guilt, just because she didn't want to embarrass herself by telling Harper the real reason why she was being so cagey. She didn't want to think about what she did, because if she did...
Wincing outwardly, Luci tries to disguise it with a smile. ]
[ For as long as they've known one another, she'd better know that look. Likewise, Harper knows a weapons grade deflection when she sees one. The only difference between Luci and everyone else in the world is that it actually works. Puffing a sigh, her posture unlocks. ]
I never said that. [ Turning on her heel, she makes for the kitchen sink to wash out the cloth she'd been using. ] I'm just never going to get to the bottom of this if I don't know why.
[ She may be wringing the cloth a little more... forcefully... than necessary.
Look, she has to have an outlet of some kind for her failed bravado. ]
Hasn't it been long enough?
[ Haven't enough good kitchen appliances fallen. ]
I finally get you back in London, and it's only for one night.
[ Maria's voice cuts smoothly through the dressing room, punctuated by a gentle rap of her knuckles on the door. Nevermind that she and Tsubasa share — it still feels wise to announce her presence as she leans amiably against the doorframe. Another night, another sold-out concert thanks to the reunion of the Queens of Music. Their dressing room is positively incandescent, full of light and congratulatory flowers in every shape and color. They deal with this much, having made it clear that after parties weren't really an option for either of them.
For Tsubasa, Japan will always be calling for her. Maria's callers aren't a kind lot by comparison, but she supposes that's part of her contractual obligation to being a scapegoat. To continue to atone in ways other than fighting. She has a little more freedom within S.O.N.G, and that's enough to prove that it's worth it.
Standing on stage with Tsubasa Kazanari offers another taste of such freedom, though for entirely different reasons. ]
It's a shame you can't tour with me.
[ That was something that would take much more time to plan to fruition. Maria finally enters, the shimmer of a smile on her face. She's still in full concert gear, laced into a black and silver gown, hair pinned back and wreathed with clusters of roses. Instead of attempting to remove her own adornments, she stops at the back of Tsubasa's seat, reaching out and pulling one of the matching blooms from the sleek blue twists. ]
[Moments before Maria's entrance, Tsubasa is somewhat impassive. She's not really having had the opportunity to dress down herself, but weirdly comfortable in the black and blues of her own concert gown. Given her ability to engage in combat with the very person entering the room in far more ornate wardrobe, perhaps that's not so surprising. Her thoughts rest less on the concert, and instead she finds them drifting back again and again to recent events.
While having asked if she could dream again, even as that reasserts itself in her life, there had been a lot recently that had left herself more raw and exposed than she was used to. Between the things Project Ignite brought to the forefront of her mind and the assault on her family's homestead, not to mention a certain sort of nebulous bitterness to their victory over Carol... It can be difficult to flip the switch back to normalcy. Or what best approached 'normalcy' for her.
Still, as she hears the knock and Maria entering, she dons a small smile and nods.]
My record label has been very forgiving and... flexible in my transition outside of Japan. [Especially given there could scarcely go six months without some sort of crisis rearing its head that required her attention.
She tilts her head up at Maria.] So, there's a degree I have to make up for things on my end, there. Still... once I'm in good enough graces, I imagine it should not be too terribly difficult to talk them into that.
Oh, I don't imagine that, either. You should have seen the scramble once the news broke. "Impatience" wouldn't do it justice.
[ Not that Maria has much of a say in these things either, bound to the contract of her label via a rather hefty deal. Red tape, as far as the eye could see, a bureaucracy that only bowed to worldwide crises of the supernatural variety. She'd been there for the coordination, though, and perhaps also the hope, that Kazanari Tsubasa would continue to make her mark overseas.
Rounding the side of her chair, Maria takes up the spot beside her, the vanity lights catching on her every contrasting color. The rose remains in hand, its stem twirling between her fingers. Deft, nearly knife-like. Running on the adrenaline of the show makes it a little easier to assume her edge, as surely as she knows how easily Tsubasa can cut through it with her own. But until she does, Maria is content with this, humming in thought. ]
Penned in a pretty script on a small piece of post, and stuck carefully into the edge of Minami's locker. Somehow, that seemed a better and less intrusive way to offer the invitation, and moreover, the request that stems from it. So Towa imagines, anyway, not quite thinking through the implications of a little note hanging innocently from a very popular and very beloved member of Noble Academy's locker — a locker that must surely be monitored for all signs of adoration (and gossip fuel). But she only has so many options. It was better than bringing such a matter up between classes, or during lunch, in front of everyone...
...thoughts like that swirl endlessly in her mind as she stands on the beach, arms held stiffly in front of her, fingers twined into the material of her dress. Just listening to the ocean stokes a little bit of worry in her, a guilty blush welling in her face. Against the cool sea breeze, she finally moves, lifting her hands to place her palms against her cheeks.
Like she can just will the reaction away, if she tries hard enough. ]
I mustn't give up.
[ Towa will keep telling herself that, even with footsteps sounding through the sand. ]
[Sometimes, it's not really sure what all Towa grasps about both school life and general social norms. Sometimes, she excels and blows much of the student body out of the water - other times, her presence as a girl not of this world makes itself well known. In this case...
...well, she's not sure which is which. Minami manages to snatch the note up quickly enough, and a gentle-but-stern look to a few prying eyes is enough to make those present comply and leave her with a friendly, if clearly nervous farewell.
As to the actual letter... Minami is honestly, truly, absolutely not sure what her friend and teammate may be getting at. Not exactly the type to leap to conclusions, she weighs the various options - from the most benign to ... considerations that are enough to make Minami herself blush a bit in transit, but she shakes that off. She won't prejudge or focus on one possibility or another.
It's not hard to find her, once she heads that way. While "the sea" may be vague enough, the striking red hair of the other girl stands out starkly against the waves of blue. She approaches steadily, but maintaining a calm, warm posture and expression. Whatever this is, Towa clearly needed to see her on her own, so she wants to present a comforting presence, if nothing else.]
[ While she'd hoped to steady herself by now, her cool palms still held closely to her warm cheeks, Towa finds herself bestowed by no such luck. Just the mellow greeting is enough to send a jolt fizzling up her spine, making her stand a little straighter, a little more rigidly. Her shoulders peak as her arms shoot down to lock at her front again. It's almost difficult to reconcile her with the same girl who'd just breezed through her academics and extracurriculars a few hours prior. ]
— ah, Minami...!
[ A perfect storm rolls through her as she swivels, chin tucked low, like she wants to make herself as small as possible. She realizes her reaction might betray some of her jitters. Or all of her jitters, really. It's silly of her, but she can't rightly help it with the ocean rolling off behind her. ]
Thank you, for coming to meet with me. I apologize if I've caused you any trouble, but... um, well...
[ All wars take their toll. Allelujah is used to the ring of them, the echo that sounds alongside his heartbeat, sure and steady and strong. Blanc's war is no different, even if it's not his own. Allelujah has all but adopted it anyway; these people and their strife reflect his own world that he sought to change. It's the same, time after time. The strong preying upon the weak. While he's often frustrated at this endless struggle, it's something he still bears with a grace that is tireless.
Well, mostly tireless.
It seems like clockwork, the arrival of new recruits drafted into Blanc's army. Some new to magic, some new to weapons, some new to the idea of a fight itself. While Allelujah wouldn't call his gift for fighting a blessing by any means, it's useful, and he can practice it for the better — to help people. Coupled with the actual war itself, there are moments when he finds himself just tired.
Now is one of those times, a morning training regimen leaving Allelujah dozing in his room, upright in one of the chairs. His long legs are loose, one bent slightly, heel balanced on the ground. His arms are folded at his middle, the sleeves of his uniform coat rumpled and cuffed. He smells slightly like the sea, slightly like the flowers adorning every nook and cranny of the room. While this may not be his home, Allelujah has come to draw comfort from being here, enough to drift in and out of a dreamless sleep as the sunset pours in through the window. Expending his mana so thoroughly through his magic and weapons leaves him the slightest bit vulnerable.
[ If asked how he ended up here, Allelujah is certain he'd have the precise answer. And yet, in thinking about it, it also comes as something of a surprise, even to him. Shinoa is an intelligent girl. Easy to speak with, easy to get along with, even if they are literally worlds separated. She reminds him of the crewmembers of his team's mothership back home — they were young but competent, wise beyond their years. Worth protecting, like family. A concept he has had to find, but holds fast to regardless.
Somehow, Shinoa has managed to capture and hold his esteem both as a friend and a fighter. Facing off with her during training has become something he looks forward to. Wielding that scythe of hers with a finesse that still surprises him, keeping him sharp and on his toes. Today, after a training session that's gone as smoothly as it was challenging, Allelujah stays behind on the beach, inviting her to sit in the sand with him for a while. His reasoning is simple as he tugs his travel pack open and pulls a wooden box from it, the outsides engraved with patterns common aboard the Airy. ]
Shinoa, here.
[ He offers it to her, waiting to see if she accepts before producing a pair of chopsticks.
Someone's been aboard the aforementioned ship, learning the cuisine. ]
I appreciate you training with me all the time. I'd like you to have this.
[Because of the plague, and mess that had cone after it- because of the nature of their work, which few people would sign up for- there were mostly only two kinds of coworkers in the Vampire Extermination Unit: the veterans, who generally saw it beneath themselves to mingle with the rest, and the rest. The rest who were, despite everything, prone to tempers and inexperience.
Despite everything, too many of the rest were still children. And that was what made Hallelujah different- he was composed and easy to talk to, in a way that even the soldiers here weren’t.
When he had asked her to stay behind she had no qualms going along with it; now, handed the box heavy and warm, she's surprised and delighted. And what manner of thing is inside ....?]
i can write the actual starter but i realized i have no idea what we're trying to accomplish so i'll just spam you with my thoughts first. setting is easy. pre-fall of wall maria for wiggle room. new training corps recruits get ushered in and assigned to squads, including mika. what should we do then!!
to give myself ideas, i skimmed his wiki page and i get the feeling that, as a rookie, he'd be really notably good on the field and survive even when lots of other soldiers died so eventually he'd grow to be viewed with pretty high regard by the SC higher ups. so maybe we could just have him assigned to levi's squad after he's been around for awhile.
in figuring this out, i'm mostly curious what he'd think of levi... or what levi would think of him. they probably wouldn't know each other much before he was put on his squad, unless we specifically got them stuck together for whatever reason, because levi doesn't much go out of his way to be friendly - but since he's captain and kind of eccentric, it's pretty easy for any of the soldiers to get an opinion of him without knowing him. levi might have an opinion of him, too, depending on what kind of reputation he had.
LOL IDK THOUGHTS?? generalized bonding? mentor/student? silent drinking and punching guys to defend each others' honor? tell me what u want and i will provide
there's no caked blood option in this hipster lineup
the timeline and all sounds great! i like the sound of it being a first face-to-face meeting (though they could have heard of one another, especially mika hearing of levi's prowess as captain) and generalized bonding to lead into a mentor/student scenario... i feel like they have the same blase exterior that turns into zero-chill-when-fighting sort of thing going on, which would be fun to delve into? once mika decides to follow someone he gets scary intense and loyal, and will go full bullshit shounen rage to protect them.
at first he might come off as weird (weird kids in my aot, you don't say) because he seems kind of mellow and likes to snack at inopportune times and be off training by himself a lot. so his reputation wouldn't precede him by much, if that makes sense?
BUT GET HIM GOING AND IT'S A DIFFERENT STORY...
i was thinking it'd be neat to give him motivation in having him be separated from his orga-figure early on, and having him be so frighteningly intent on surviving so he can find them. then he starts bonding to levi, oops
first meeting sounds good! it can be hard to jump straight into in media res without that establishing stuff out of the way, so yeah! from what i read on his wiki, they seem like they have a lot in common actually ("aloof personality," "difficult childhood," yes all the edgelord tropes), so i don't think it'll take long for that to come out... in which case, bonding feelings and mentor/student feelings can totally happen.
maybe we can start off with them meeting in relatively calm context and then we can time skip onto some kind of expedition where he could get separated from orga. which in aot-land usually means death but yanno. levi can relate to that, his only friends died on his first expedition too.
laughs but yes if that's good i'll get a starter up next
yes excellent, get a little bit of the foundation down for first impressions to see how the dynamic works, then throw them into some action? i enjoy blends like that a lot! mika does really well with some kind of fixed point to work towards (trying to find someone, for example, which i could even spin to be kudelia, the series ojou/noble) and i'll have to tone down his canon co-dependency on orga at first, but as long as he has titan-murdering to do and someone to take direction from, he'll be good to go.
( i'm sorry this took me so long!! but i am here and definitely tell me if there's anything i should change! i was just kinda grabbing for any random place they could bump into each other and be inclined to talk. in this case, because they're alone. also i couldn't be assed to figure out the exact year if you were wondering about my awesome date-numbering. )
[ 8XX. The graduating Training Corps class saw a good turn out this year. Of note, the amount that favor the unpopular Survey Corps has increased significantly since the year prior. In the Capitol, the noble class of civilians speak of it as though they're stunned. Elsewhere, a variety of suppositions are made—people pointing to unrest for the changing policy of the crown, children speaking in high regard for certain military figures. However, for veteran soldiers who may be, in part, responsible for lifting the organization's public image, it is difficult to take the success as a matter of pride.
Levi, in particular, finds himself displeased with the nature of the recruitment. With his recently appointed position of "Captain," he's gained a lot of publicity lately—and he knows, balancing the responsibility to the livelihood of the Corps with his personal desires isn't in the cards. Even if signing more brats up to throw their lives away in some fleeting bout of heroism isn't exactly a burden he wants, in this pithy division, there's always going to be a need for more people. And who is he to stop them?
...
It's different once the recruits become full-fledged soldiers. There's no point in sugarcoating the reality they've locked themselves into now. Frankly, if anyone can still manage to take bets over who's going to shit their pants first come the next expedition, he'll remember their name rather than their bet. Same goes for anybody who needs to ask why.
But as for now, they're persisting through what seem like some final moments of preparation. It's not like it's atypical for expeditions to keep getting set back. As usual, the more hoops they're forced to jump through by those pigs in the assembly, the more they're forced to wait. This coming expedition is no different. It's only that it'll be just in time for their new recruits to join in. That's what's eating at everyone on top of it all.
With the following days bearing no more news from Mitras, Levi spends each morning in the stables. The cleaning ritual would begin before long, but when one regularly rises before the dawn, it follows that they must find ways to keep themselves busy. Today, he must really think he's alone, with the way he doles attention out to the horses.
...but it's nothing too bad, just clicking his tongue at someone's aggressive temperament, poking a head into the stalls of other soldiers' animals to ensure they've eaten. Soon he hears a distinctly human scuffle on the ground and turns to get a look at who's there. ]
[ That source of the sound on the soft stables dirt reveals itself without any further prompting. Mikazuki moves into full view of the entrance, the warm morning sunlight at his back casting half of him into deep blue shadow. He hefts a bucket against his middle, his diminutive height causing it to span from stomach to chest. Young, new. Yet he offers nothing formal for the intrusion save a flash of recognition that squares his shoulders. ]
You're early.
[ With that observation out of the way, plain and succinct, he remains still, not venturing any farther in, not making to leave. Nothing paints him as anything out of the ordinary, this hour of morning not mandating he be in uniform or gear just yet. A hefty Corps-issued cloak is the only thing that marks him, and even then, it's bunched into the crooks of his elbows, more as a way to fend off the chill of dawn than it is to display his status. Mikazuki is simply different, for all of his few days into this transfer to Levi's squad. Not scared, not arrogant, not... much of anything discernible, save for the way blades tilt in his hands, the pin of his eyes when he fights. He's similarly up with the sun, doing laps around the barracks and the training grounds. Rumors hound his back, but he doesn't indulge in the gossip of his peers. Or his superiors.
Pulled off the streets, they said. Him and his companion. Homeless, dirty, no where to go. Blood on his hands and beneath his fingernails, eyes like an animal. But he knew how to use a knife a little too well — it'd be a shame to waste the talent when they could just point him at the right enemy.
A direction that's lead here. Arguably, to this person. Mikazuki shifts, wordlessly lowering the bucket as if he means to set it in the doorway and go. ]
While still fresh to any type of leadership, Levi had been given some advisement about which scouts might be best suited to his squad. Mikazuki, however, was not among them. As Erwin had given him the final word on selection, it had been a gamble of his own—or so their peers had been quick to judge. Levi, on the other hand, was not known to make baseless decisions despite his usual brevity.
Hence given his own judgment of the recruit, he didn't expect to see Mikazuki here... but by the same measure, he's not surprised to. He's been able to observe him on the field, in the short time that he's been with the Corps. So you could say that, along with his gut, is his reason. The other veterans don't question him, and the talk that circulates is never bold enough for the talkers to be faced with Levi himself.
Mikazuki faces him though, alert at this hour and finding something to get his hands dirty with. Though he's not the sort to keep up any kind of pretense regardless, this especially puts Levi at ease. He scoffs as Mikazuki motions to leave, but it isn't condescending. ]
What's the hurry? [ If he's here, then it would be a waste to slack off just to avoid him, right... ] Back to bed?
[ He seems to recognize himself that what he's said is a 'joke,' pausing to explain further. ]
...The sooner they eat, the sooner they can be trained.
[Starters are hard when you don't have ideas. But Yui is a ball of cute so it will probably be fine. I think. even if it's not fine it'll work out anyway, that's how we roll]
[ With summer giving way to fall at Noble Academy, its student were left to the preparations for the fast-approaching winter months. Among them was tending to the school's vast and beautiful gardens, a task that wasn't as simple as it seemed. While there were certainly plants that would survive the snowy months ahead, many of the flowers had to be pruned back so they'd grow healthy and strong at the turn of spring. A sizable group of students turned out to help — naturally, that was just Haruka's pull, sunny and warm, like the source of the flowers' vibrancy. She'd been caring for the grounds since the start of the year, after all. It was all thanks to her that they had these wonderful gifts day after day.
And she was also the reason that the clipped flowers wouldn't simply be thrown aside or away. Such a thing seemed a waste, after all. All the blooms were bright and perfect and in abundance, even as the students, with their dirtied gloves and sharp clippers, sheared them from their trees and bushes. Piles began to accumulate in damp cloths and wicker baskets.
Towa sits beside Yui with a handsome pile of freshly cut flowers, legs folded daintily beneath her. Her hands gingerly work at a few of the pliant stems, weaving them into one another. It's slow work, as she's only just learned of this craft. Flower crowns are serious. ]
Is this satisfactory?
[ Scooting forward toward the other girl, Towa presents the semi-circle for inspection. ]
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COLOR ME HEARTACHE u have to pick the character
Cornelia demands that she be strong. That she bear the weight placed upon her without bending or tiring. That she be fierce and fearless and beholden to nothing and no one. Clovis wishes her to be like lace and chiffon, delicate and sweet. To speak silk words and make no ripples, cause no waves. Schneizel sees her as an asset, as someone to be guided, to be put into play. He hopes that she be clever, with a wit as sharp as any blade. And Charles, their father, he wants of her as he wants of all of his children. He demands obedience, that each of them fortify the empire he has carved out of their world.
Euphemia is all of these things. She is glad to be them. She would like all of her family happy, with her and with each other. She is grateful to Cornelia for teaching her to be self sufficient and self reliant, grateful to Clovis for helping her learn how to be more social, more open, more welcoming. She is grateful to Schneizel for recognizing her strengths, and to their father for inspiring her to be loyal.
She is everything, but she is alone.
The older she gets, the more bound to her loneliness she becomes. A web of politics, of her position and how her value as a person is colored by that rank. She harder she pushes against it, the harder it pushes back.
With the terrorist attacks of late, the destabilization of Area 11 and the racial tensions mounting on a global scale, there is no time left to her. Cornelia commands armies. Clovis hasn't had a real conversation with her since they were both small. Schneizel makes time for her when he can, but her words never seem to quite reach him. The rest of her family is estranged to her.
She doesn't think she's strong enough. The weight is too much, the world's need too great.
She can't remember the last time she thought of needs of her own.
It would be nice, she thinks, to get to go to school. To make friends. To do things that... people do, for themselves. Help organize a festival. Stay up all night talking about their dreams, the future.
It only occurs to Euphie just how long she's been standing outside the bookstore when it starts to rain. She gives a start, blinking at the overcast sky as the rain picks up, and she gives a heavy, faintly irritated sigh. At herself, mostly. Cornelia would give her the lecture of a lifetime if she caught her little sister acting like this, if Cornelia had that sort of time these days.
Standing outside a bookstore lost in thought over a boy. ]
(and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage)
Excuse me, miss.
[ Despite the faux-cordiality of the address, Gaelio's voice is unmistakable. Measured, just the slightest bit brash. Good-natured but sharp. He tips his umbrella over Euphemia to shield her from the rain. Droplets roll off its curved surface, well past her shoulders. Ducked beneath it thanks to his height, his eyebrows raise as if he's about to dish a delicious secret. As if they're strangers, rather than childhood friends who share more than just this one umbrella. ]
I have it on very good authority that making faces like that causes premature and entirely undue wrinkles. [ His brow knits and he taps his foot, just for the drama of it. ] As I recall, it was a young lady much like yourself. Tall, beautiful hair — the talk of the empire, really.
[ An enterprising handwave. ]
I'd take her advice, if I were you.
[ Righting himself, Gaelio Bauduin flashes a pompous grin. It would be remiss of him to pass up a gentle ribbing. That's how it's been, ever since they were young. Britannia's princess and the first son of the Bauduin house, one of the most famed pillars of the Seven Stars. One would think a soldier of his pedigree and rank would be a little less... cavalier, but it's for precisely that reason that he's among the more popular of the heirs to the most powerful autonomous peacekeeping force in the Earth Sphere. Gaelio makes it look easy. The ceremony, the glamour, the pressure. It rolls off his back as water does off feathers. Usually, his partner in crime proves herself to be cut from the same cloth, but today —
Well, Gaelio passes a look over her, hefting a rather absurdly huge bouquet of flowers in his free arm. ]
I demand cute bff times
(pink cloud | had those ribbons become entangled)
[ Harper is currently poised over her best friend with a damp cloth in hand, quite ready to just keep going on and on until she has her way. Because today is a special day. Today is the day that Harper took on a challenge more monumental than any other in her ridiculous, charmed, and somewhat hectic life as a baker, student, part-time magical girl, and friend.
Today is the day she and Luci bake something without destroying her kitchen.
Granted, an egg has already ended up on the ceiling, her food processor is cowering in fear and down for the count, and Luci had just somehow managed to use her mixer to send a totally innocent concoction of oil and flour up in a glorious plume that now coats them both, but she is not giving up. Whoever said Harper wasn't hot-blooded has clearly never seen her in the kitchen. Squaring herself, she sighs, reaching out to take Luci's chin. ]
There, right there! Hold still.
[ A beat, and her expression softens. ]
Geez. It's all over your eyelashes, even.
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Both girls knew that this was going to end up being a Mistake. Even before things started going wrong, as Luci knotted her apron slowly in an attempt to defuse her nervous energy, she fidgeted. And it was that fidgeting that began this cloud of trouble—one that would eventually become a literal cloud, flour now covering both girls and everything in the immediate proximity of the mixer.
Hacking, coughing and sputtering, Luci let out an exasperated groan. Can't they just give up already, Harper? She was a lost cause. ]
I'm not making a face!
[ She was making a face.
A gentle huff, she let Harper take her chin, looking very much like a child who had been caught doing something wrong, expecting scolding. Apologetic, guilty. ]
...Sorry. But I told you this was a lost cause.
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[ Holding Luci's chin firmly between her thumb and the curled flat of her index finger, she dutifully begins wiping off the flour coating. Granted, some of the stuff is still settling, powdery swirls visible in the later afternoon light coming in through the window. Harper swears it's worse than glitter, and Harper knows a thing or two about glitter. With the cloth folded to a triangle edge, she dabs and swipes with laser-like precision.
Also very gently, but she's trying to appear authoritative, all the same. ]
If I'm not giving up on you, you can't give up on you.
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I know, but—
[ "No buts!" She could hear her saying it already and, immediately backing down, Luci exhaled. ]
I'm not good at this. I'm never going to be good at this. I don't have a talent for things like this like you do. All I'm going to do is end up messing up your kitchen more than I already have.
[ She has a talent for that, at least. ]
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[ Which isn't exactly a rebuttal to Luci's self-deprecation, but it is full of enough girly spite to hopefully drop that argument where it stands. Her motions even out after that, gently dabbing and swiping every patch of white that she can get to. Eyebrows, cheekbones, the curve of her upper lip. Once Harper is satisfied that Luci isn't going to make a break for it, she releases her chin with a sigh.
The fact that she's more preoccupied with the state of her friend than she is with the state of her poor countertop is indicative enough without her having to stoop to point it out. ]
What's made you so nervous about this, anyway?
[ Besides the obvious.
Not like they ever bring up the Burning Spatula Incident of 2012... ]
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Luci was well aware of how much of a kitchen disaster she was, and truthfully she wouldn't have gone with this if she didn't have something in mind. Being in the kitchen was like a special circle of Hell for her, a constant reminder of her imperfections and the fact that she could be so bad at something.
And maybe she had ridiculous expectations for herself, but... ]
Eh?
[ With a fluttered blink, the blond looked up toward the ceiling.
(Busted) ]
What? Me, nervous? Harper, you know me! I'm never nervous about anything!
[ You're also a horrible liar, Luci. ]
Well, not that nervous!
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Aa~h. We've been friends for so long, Lucianna Edwards. And still, you think you can get away with lying to me...
[ Shame. Shaaaaame. ]
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[ Luci, you just hesitated. Harper was going to see right through that! And seeing that trademark Harper overreaction, her eyebrow twitched a bit. ]
...Not a complete lie!
[ Don't press her don't press her please don't press her. ]
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Granted, the effect is probably somewhat dulled by the fact that she's also still covered in flour.
But who's counting, really. ]
Don't I deserve a "not complete" truth, then? You still didn't answer my question.
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Wincing outwardly, Luci tries to disguise it with a smile. ]
I'm not allowed to be nervous?
[ Yep, she's turning this around on her. ]
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I never said that. [ Turning on her heel, she makes for the kitchen sink to wash out the cloth she'd been using. ] I'm just never going to get to the bottom of this if I don't know why.
[ She may be wringing the cloth a little more... forcefully... than necessary.
Look, she has to have an outlet of some kind for her failed bravado. ]
Hasn't it been long enough?
[ Haven't enough good kitchen appliances fallen. ]
One blue senpai
(miss you + rose | grace notes in church songs)
[ Maria's voice cuts smoothly through the dressing room, punctuated by a gentle rap of her knuckles on the door. Nevermind that she and Tsubasa share — it still feels wise to announce her presence as she leans amiably against the doorframe. Another night, another sold-out concert thanks to the reunion of the Queens of Music. Their dressing room is positively incandescent, full of light and congratulatory flowers in every shape and color. They deal with this much, having made it clear that after parties weren't really an option for either of them.
For Tsubasa, Japan will always be calling for her. Maria's callers aren't a kind lot by comparison, but she supposes that's part of her contractual obligation to being a scapegoat. To continue to atone in ways other than fighting. She has a little more freedom within S.O.N.G, and that's enough to prove that it's worth it.
Standing on stage with Tsubasa Kazanari offers another taste of such freedom, though for entirely different reasons. ]
It's a shame you can't tour with me.
[ That was something that would take much more time to plan to fruition. Maria finally enters, the shimmer of a smile on her face. She's still in full concert gear, laced into a black and silver gown, hair pinned back and wreathed with clusters of roses. Instead of attempting to remove her own adornments, she stops at the back of Tsubasa's seat, reaching out and pulling one of the matching blooms from the sleek blue twists. ]
Something to look forward to, I suppose.
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with the very person entering the roomin far more ornate wardrobe, perhaps that's not so surprising. Her thoughts rest less on the concert, and instead she finds them drifting back again and again to recent events.While having asked if she could dream again, even as that reasserts itself in her life, there had been a lot recently that had left herself more raw and exposed than she was used to. Between the things Project Ignite brought to the forefront of her mind and the assault on her family's homestead, not to mention a certain sort of nebulous bitterness to their victory over Carol... It can be difficult to flip the switch back to normalcy. Or what best approached 'normalcy' for her.
Still, as she hears the knock and Maria entering, she dons a small smile and nods.]
My record label has been very forgiving and... flexible in my transition outside of Japan. [Especially given there could scarcely go six months without some sort of crisis rearing its head that required her attention.
She tilts her head up at Maria.] So, there's a degree I have to make up for things on my end, there. Still... once I'm in good enough graces, I imagine it should not be too terribly difficult to talk them into that.
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[ Not that Maria has much of a say in these things either, bound to the contract of her label via a rather hefty deal. Red tape, as far as the eye could see, a bureaucracy that only bowed to worldwide crises of the supernatural variety. She'd been there for the coordination, though, and perhaps also the hope, that Kazanari Tsubasa would continue to make her mark overseas.
Rounding the side of her chair, Maria takes up the spot beside her, the vanity lights catching on her every contrasting color. The rose remains in hand, its stem twirling between her fingers. Deft, nearly knife-like. Running on the adrenaline of the show makes it a little easier to assume her edge, as surely as she knows how easily Tsubasa can cut through it with her own. But until she does, Maria is content with this, humming in thought. ]
One night is still plenty of time, however.
Or, the other blue senpai
(blush | the ocean is a constant reminder)
Penned in a pretty script on a small piece of post, and stuck carefully into the edge of Minami's locker. Somehow, that seemed a better and less intrusive way to offer the invitation, and moreover, the request that stems from it. So Towa imagines, anyway, not quite thinking through the implications of a little note hanging innocently from a very popular and very beloved member of Noble Academy's locker — a locker that must surely be monitored for all signs of adoration (and gossip fuel). But she only has so many options. It was better than bringing such a matter up between classes, or during lunch, in front of everyone...
...thoughts like that swirl endlessly in her mind as she stands on the beach, arms held stiffly in front of her, fingers twined into the material of her dress. Just listening to the ocean stokes a little bit of worry in her, a guilty blush welling in her face. Against the cool sea breeze, she finally moves, lifting her hands to place her palms against her cheeks.
Like she can just will the reaction away, if she tries hard enough. ]
I mustn't give up.
[ Towa will keep telling herself that, even with footsteps sounding through the sand. ]
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...well, she's not sure which is which. Minami manages to snatch the note up quickly enough, and a gentle-but-stern look to a few prying eyes is enough to make those present comply and leave her with a friendly, if clearly nervous farewell.
As to the actual letter... Minami is honestly, truly, absolutely not sure what her friend and teammate may be getting at. Not exactly the type to leap to conclusions, she weighs the various options - from the most benign to ... considerations that are enough to make Minami herself blush a bit in transit, but she shakes that off. She won't prejudge or focus on one possibility or another.
It's not hard to find her, once she heads that way. While "the sea" may be vague enough, the striking red hair of the other girl stands out starkly against the waves of blue. She approaches steadily, but maintaining a calm, warm posture and expression. Whatever this is, Towa clearly needed to see her on her own, so she wants to present a comforting presence, if nothing else.]
Towa. You wanted to see me?
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— ah, Minami...!
[ A perfect storm rolls through her as she swivels, chin tucked low, like she wants to make herself as small as possible. She realizes her reaction might betray some of her jitters. Or all of her jitters, really. It's silly of her, but she can't rightly help it with the ocean rolling off behind her. ]
Thank you, for coming to meet with me. I apologize if I've caused you any trouble, but... um, well...
Gimme cute roomie times
(blush | we are never frightened at a sunset)
Well, mostly tireless.
It seems like clockwork, the arrival of new recruits drafted into Blanc's army. Some new to magic, some new to weapons, some new to the idea of a fight itself. While Allelujah wouldn't call his gift for fighting a blessing by any means, it's useful, and he can practice it for the better — to help people. Coupled with the actual war itself, there are moments when he finds himself just tired.
Now is one of those times, a morning training regimen leaving Allelujah dozing in his room, upright in one of the chairs. His long legs are loose, one bent slightly, heel balanced on the ground. His arms are folded at his middle, the sleeves of his uniform coat rumpled and cuffed. He smells slightly like the sea, slightly like the flowers adorning every nook and cranny of the room. While this may not be his home, Allelujah has come to draw comfort from being here, enough to drift in and out of a dreamless sleep as the sunset pours in through the window. Expending his mana so thoroughly through his magic and weapons leaves him the slightest bit vulnerable.
In this room, he's fine with that. ]
one cute friendship color please :3
is this how it's done]
(cotton candy | you don't need a silver fork)
Somehow, Shinoa has managed to capture and hold his esteem both as a friend and a fighter. Facing off with her during training has become something he looks forward to. Wielding that scythe of hers with a finesse that still surprises him, keeping him sharp and on his toes. Today, after a training session that's gone as smoothly as it was challenging, Allelujah stays behind on the beach, inviting her to sit in the sand with him for a while. His reasoning is simple as he tugs his travel pack open and pulls a wooden box from it, the outsides engraved with patterns common aboard the Airy. ]
Shinoa, here.
[ He offers it to her, waiting to see if she accepts before producing a pair of chopsticks.
Someone's been aboard the aforementioned ship, learning the cuisine. ]
I appreciate you training with me all the time. I'd like you to have this.
sorry for the lateness :c
Despite everything, too many of the rest were still children.And that was what made Hallelujah different- he was composed and easy to talk to, in a way that even the soldiers here weren’t.When he had asked her to stay behind she had no qualms going along with it; now, handed the box heavy and warm, she's surprised and delighted. And what manner of thing is inside ....?]
Oh! Wow, did you make this yourself?
what color is gritty soldier bonding
i can write the actual starter but i realized i have no idea what we're trying to accomplish so i'll just spam you with my thoughts first. setting is easy. pre-fall of wall maria for wiggle room. new training corps recruits get ushered in and assigned to squads, including mika. what should we do then!!
to give myself ideas, i skimmed his wiki page and i get the feeling that, as a rookie, he'd be really notably good on the field and survive even when lots of other soldiers died so eventually he'd grow to be viewed with pretty high regard by the SC higher ups. so maybe we could just have him assigned to levi's squad after he's been around for awhile.
in figuring this out, i'm mostly curious what he'd think of levi... or what levi would think of him. they probably wouldn't know each other much before he was put on his squad, unless we specifically got them stuck together for whatever reason, because levi doesn't much go out of his way to be friendly - but since he's captain and kind of eccentric, it's pretty easy for any of the soldiers to get an opinion of him without knowing him. levi might have an opinion of him, too, depending on what kind of reputation he had.
LOL IDK THOUGHTS?? generalized bonding? mentor/student? silent drinking and punching guys to defend each others' honor? tell me what u want and i will provide
there's no caked blood option in this hipster lineup
at first he might come off as weird (weird kids in my aot, you don't say) because he seems kind of mellow and likes to snack at inopportune times and be off training by himself a lot. so his reputation wouldn't precede him by much, if that makes sense?
BUT GET HIM GOING AND IT'S A DIFFERENT STORY...
i was thinking it'd be neat to give him motivation in having him be separated from his orga-figure early on, and having him be so frighteningly intent on surviving so he can find them. then he starts bonding to levi, oops
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maybe we can start off with them meeting in relatively calm context and then we can time skip onto some kind of expedition where he could get separated from orga. which in aot-land usually means death but yanno. levi can relate to that, his only friends died on his first expedition too.
laughs but yes if that's good i'll get a starter up next
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yes excellent, get a little bit of the foundation down for first impressions to see how the dynamic works, then throw them into some action? i enjoy blends like that a lot! mika does really well with some kind of fixed point to work towards (trying to find someone, for example, which i could even spin to be kudelia, the series ojou/noble) and i'll have to tone down his canon co-dependency on orga at first, but as long as he has titan-murdering to do and someone to take direction from, he'll be good to go.
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[ 8XX. The graduating Training Corps class saw a good turn out this year. Of note, the amount that favor the unpopular Survey Corps has increased significantly since the year prior. In the Capitol, the noble class of civilians speak of it as though they're stunned. Elsewhere, a variety of suppositions are made—people pointing to unrest for the changing policy of the crown, children speaking in high regard for certain military figures. However, for veteran soldiers who may be, in part, responsible for lifting the organization's public image, it is difficult to take the success as a matter of pride.
Levi, in particular, finds himself displeased with the nature of the recruitment. With his recently appointed position of "Captain," he's gained a lot of publicity lately—and he knows, balancing the responsibility to the livelihood of the Corps with his personal desires isn't in the cards. Even if signing more brats up to throw their lives away in some fleeting bout of heroism isn't exactly a burden he wants, in this pithy division, there's always going to be a need for more people. And who is he to stop them?
...
It's different once the recruits become full-fledged soldiers. There's no point in sugarcoating the reality they've locked themselves into now. Frankly, if anyone can still manage to take bets over who's going to shit their pants first come the next expedition, he'll remember their name rather than their bet. Same goes for anybody who needs to ask why.
But as for now, they're persisting through what seem like some final moments of preparation. It's not like it's atypical for expeditions to keep getting set back. As usual, the more hoops they're forced to jump through by those pigs in the assembly, the more they're forced to wait. This coming expedition is no different. It's only that it'll be just in time for their new recruits to join in. That's what's eating at everyone on top of it all.
With the following days bearing no more news from Mitras, Levi spends each morning in the stables. The cleaning ritual would begin before long, but when one regularly rises before the dawn, it follows that they must find ways to keep themselves busy. Today, he must really think he's alone, with the way he doles attention out to the horses.
...but it's nothing too bad, just clicking his tongue at someone's aggressive temperament, poking a head into the stalls of other soldiers' animals to ensure they've eaten. Soon he hears a distinctly human scuffle on the ground and turns to get a look at who's there. ]
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You're early.
[ With that observation out of the way, plain and succinct, he remains still, not venturing any farther in, not making to leave. Nothing paints him as anything out of the ordinary, this hour of morning not mandating he be in uniform or gear just yet. A hefty Corps-issued cloak is the only thing that marks him, and even then, it's bunched into the crooks of his elbows, more as a way to fend off the chill of dawn than it is to display his status. Mikazuki is simply different, for all of his few days into this transfer to Levi's squad. Not scared, not arrogant, not... much of anything discernible, save for the way blades tilt in his hands, the pin of his eyes when he fights. He's similarly up with the sun, doing laps around the barracks and the training grounds. Rumors hound his back, but he doesn't indulge in the gossip of his peers. Or his superiors.
Pulled off the streets, they said. Him and his companion. Homeless, dirty, no where to go. Blood on his hands and beneath his fingernails, eyes like an animal. But he knew how to use a knife a little too well — it'd be a shame to waste the talent when they could just point him at the right enemy.
A direction that's lead here. Arguably, to this person. Mikazuki shifts, wordlessly lowering the bucket as if he means to set it in the doorway and go. ]
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While still fresh to any type of leadership, Levi had been given some advisement about which scouts might be best suited to his squad. Mikazuki, however, was not among them. As Erwin had given him the final word on selection, it had been a gamble of his own—or so their peers had been quick to judge. Levi, on the other hand, was not known to make baseless decisions despite his usual brevity.
Hence given his own judgment of the recruit, he didn't expect to see Mikazuki here... but by the same measure, he's not surprised to. He's been able to observe him on the field, in the short time that he's been with the Corps. So you could say that, along with his gut, is his reason. The other veterans don't question him, and the talk that circulates is never bold enough for the talkers to be faced with Levi himself.
Mikazuki faces him though, alert at this hour and finding something to get his hands dirty with. Though he's not the sort to keep up any kind of pretense regardless, this especially puts Levi at ease. He scoffs as Mikazuki motions to leave, but it isn't condescending. ]
What's the hurry? [ If he's here, then it would be a waste to slack off just to avoid him, right... ] Back to bed?
[ He seems to recognize himself that what he's said is a 'joke,' pausing to explain further. ]
...The sooner they eat, the sooner they can be trained.
can we just call it all of the pink
even if it's not fine it'll work out anyway, that's how we roll](powder puff | from crown to root)
And she was also the reason that the clipped flowers wouldn't simply be thrown aside or away. Such a thing seemed a waste, after all. All the blooms were bright and perfect and in abundance, even as the students, with their dirtied gloves and sharp clippers, sheared them from their trees and bushes. Piles began to accumulate in damp cloths and wicker baskets.
Towa sits beside Yui with a handsome pile of freshly cut flowers, legs folded daintily beneath her. Her hands gingerly work at a few of the pliant stems, weaving them into one another. It's slow work, as she's only just learned of this craft. Flower crowns are serious. ]
Is this satisfactory?
[ Scooting forward toward the other girl, Towa presents the semi-circle for inspection. ]
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