#brazcns

WINTRY STARTERS | accepting

          “ Do you happen to have a ladder, Captain ? ”

     LOOKING UP AT the tree, with an absolute look of dismay. Who thought this was a good idea ?  Surely it was some sick joke, making them be the one’s to decorate it. Farnese could practically hear the snickering behind closed doors. Defeated, and holding the remaining tinsel in her hands, she figured she could just, throw it and hope for the best. However, that would make it look rather disorderly and not very neat. 

     This wouldn’t do. So, bundling up the decoration and balancing it on the tree, she skipped over to an ottoman to pick it up and bring it over. It only gave her an extra foot, maybe a foot and a few inches-- if she was pushing it. The damned thing was over six feet tall. Really ?  Who did this ?  Was it Hange ?  She would bet her right arm that it was Hange. 

     The both of them managed to wrap the remaining decorations around the tree with the extra assistance. Now it was time for the star. Dammit. 

          “ Do you mind getting that chair ? I’m sure I could get it up that way, ”  Honorable Farnese vouched to place the star, she was the taller one, after all. Even if it was a measly two centimeters.  “ You can direct me on how to place it properly, ”

  WHAT ELSE WOULD HE SAY. amelia should have known better, right from the start  —  this evening would remind a L O N E L Y  one. staring into the warm, crackling fireplace, a deep sigh was taken from womans lips before she leaned back into the wooden chair she had occupied earlier.  ❛  of course. ❜ , the brunette whispered while fingers tipped on her thick notebook filled with what he seemed to hate. WORDS. they had met quite a few years ago and still he never failed to surprise scientific mind with his permanent urge to push away any kind of human contact, interaction or relationship. was it wars fault ? was it because he was just as afraid as all of them ? to LOSE, to be LEFT OVER, to be ALONE. wasn’t it easier to remain just as it would end ? without anybody else ? ❛  and still you sit here and listen. ❜ , followed with the hint of a grin. and still he tried to ( even though the effort was minimal ). not even he was lost, as long as OTHERS TRIED ( and much to levis annoyance, amelia never gave up ).

@brazcns is not alone                                                                 annie leonhardt starter

      If she were in Marley, right about now people would be falling to their knees at the sight of her. Piss-faced military officers would be hurriedly coming up with digestible, party-line-following explanations and praises while cursing themselves for not getting to her in time to hide her, get a report from her, experiment on her, make some kid eat her, and dispose of her body. Suggestions about sainting her would be circulating. Weeping Eldian mothers would be bringing babies for her to bless. A fucking miracle and all that.

      But instead, her crystal cracked where it had apparently been sitting for the past four years straight, on a day when no one had time to check on a hibernating girl while she lay limp on the floor, unable to move her rubbery bones. She heard a faint, distant roar, like a mini populist uprising or whatever.

JEAN-NY KIRSTEIN

  Lucy was awake before the first rays of dawn began to drizzle across the darkness of the night; covered in sweat and her chest was heavy from the dread that her nightmare caused. Sitting up in her bed, she was listening to the snuffling and snoring of her comrades who were happy to finally get some rest in a HQ after riding through days and nights. They might had been right: getting rid of the uniform, getting into the bed in something loose - they seemed to be more comfortable than she felt herself in between the belts, but not having the uniform on, made her feel nearly naked.

  To make sure not to awake them, Lucy tiptoed through the room, tensing up a little everytime the wood under her boots creaked and a sigh escaped her thin lips after the door was closed behind her in finality. Her marching to the kitchen was silent and steady before halting for the tea-can, pouring water onto it and grabbing some tea leaves along a cup. She planned on putting the iron can onto the grid highly above the fire of the stove in the small mess hall before spotting the figure of a man in the hall.

AS  IT  SHOULD.      beneath    her    unyielding    gaze    —    all    were    PREY ;   MICE,   rooted  &&   immobile,   staring  down  the  cavernous  throat,  as  a  tongue  flicked  over  the  serpent’s  fangs.    FUTILE   was   resistance,   death  inevitable. 

SURVIVAL  OF  THE  FITTEST.    the  weak  will  always  try,  whether  with  politics  or  wealth  or friendship,  to  amend  their  faults,  fill  in  their  flaws.     but  again,    futile  was   resistance.   the   strong   will   live,   the   weak   will   die  —  the  unavoidable   &&   immutable   LAW  of  the  world. 

so  come,  all  who  fear  &&   despise,   come  in  hoards  or  armies,   for   the   hands   that   have  stripped  the   sun   from   incalculable   lives,   for   the   feet   that   have   crushed   the   heroes   of   sanity   and  pride,   for   the   unrepentant   lips   &&   unforgiving   eyes,       come   for   her   life. 

or   RUN.   run   far   away,   mute   protesting   pride   &&   obey   that   instinctive   voice,    screaming  —           ‘  she  is  fear,  she  is  danger,  she  is  THE  END.  ’ 

“  keen observation.  ”   jovial  mirth  spread  upon  tilted  lips,  “  and  quite  the  compliment.  ” with  hands  laced,  folded  beneath  a  delicate  chin,  it  appeared  as  if  she  was  pleased.  “  the  same  could  be  said  of  yourself.  dangerous— ”  pause,  “   —but  not  frightening.  I  do  not  fear you,  though  that  might  be  obvious.  The  real  curiosity  is,  ”  

          “  do  YOU   fear   me ?  ”