[There's a bright flash, a loud boom like a distant explosion, and then they're on the water - yes, right there, tossed into an endless, churning sea. There's no time to be shocked. Armin clings to one side of the bed - it has sides now, high enough to keep the water out, a strange, makeshift boat. Blue eyes scan the storm - for what? He turns to face Caitlyn, every trace of that easy, forced smile gone.]
[A flash, a boom, and Caitlyn half expects to find the man on his knees with his soul torn asunder. Granted, with the way he clings, she’s not quite certain that hasn’t happened.
[Her own face could be more shocked. She takes a quick scan of the non-land, blinks off an eyeroll, and tosses the would-be rope aside.]
We’re stranded this way, then. [Similarly flippant, though—he has dropped the smile. That changes things.
[Her expression softens. Caitlyn doesn’t offer certainty where there is none, but she does reach out: a firm grip at his forearm. If he shirks she’ll withdraw, but it’s not a slow movement; it speaks for itself, she thinks. She’s steady, if nothing else.]
[Armin has always been unsteady, will always be unsteady, but usually, he's good at hiding it. Usually, these days, no one can tell at all.
[This woman, whoever she is, can tell. She offers her grip, and it's steady. Armin only shrinks in gratitude, nodding his head. He doesn't try to smile again. He's tired of smiling.]
We're stranded this way, then.
This is some sort of puzzle. It has to be.
[If it's not, then what? Blind torture? Armin's never been able to accept that.]
[He shrinks, but… it doesn’t quite feel like resistance. For a moment, she holds on.
[But this has to be a puzzle, and they can solve it. A squeeze, then she withdraws, about to offer new speculation except the boat immediately begins to tilt again.
[It… wasn’t. For a few seconds, there. It held steady.
[Caitlyn glances at sloshing sides. Back to her fellow prisoner at sea. Tentatively, watching, reaches forward again…]
[They notice at the same time. Armin notices that Caitlyn has noticed, and then she's reaching out. He clutches her arm in turn, nodding his head at her. The sea calms, the boat stops rocking.]
[The sea calms. Two people, nearly strangers, reach each other over still water. There’s a question to answer—but it’s never just about the surface, is it?
[It's a logical next step, one that Armin might have thought of himself, had he only a few more seconds to think about it. As it stands, he's pulled in, and it shocks him. The bed becomes more of a bed than a boat, and then, they're back in that room.
[Four walls. A floor, a ceiling.
[Armin grips Caitlyn just the same way she grips him, arms tucked around each other, fingers digging into biceps. He doesn't move.]
Why this...? I don't get it...
I...don't even know you're name. [What an odd realization. They're still clutching each other.] I'm Armin.
[His fingers dig, and he seems to realize, loosens his grip. Her words embarrass him, and maybe it shows, the way he tries to smile, but fails. He nods his head. How couldn't it be obvious? Of course it is.]
It's true. This isn't exactly how I'd pictured it, but... [A dry "laugh". He looks over the edge of the bed, where that gray sea raged only moments ago; shakes his head.] Maybe it's stupid of me to complain.
[It is embarrassing, pointed out so bluntly, however quiet the volume. And it’s troubling, the idea that thoughts alone could shift an environment so drastically. When she invoked the sea, why didn’t he picture land? (And it had to have been Armin. Caitlyn is steady.) What else was in that endless stretch of blue?
[Cases to solve later. He gives himself no rest, it sounds like.]
I think… if anyone were to want for rest, and woke up in bed with a stranger… [In the most literal sense of the words.] …he might be justified in a complaint or two.
[Hah. Really, the laugh isn't entirely without its mirth. Armin is grateful for Caitlyn's understanding, her apparent empathy, and all without even knowing his name for more than a few minutes. They're still gripping each other, but his fingers don't dig.]
I'm not a fan of being held captive...
[Eren isn't the only one who felt caged.]
Maybe...if we continue, we'll really find the way out.
[Though, given the nature of their circumstances, he's not sure exactly what that would look like, or whether it would be something either of them are willing to do.
[Quietly, almost as an afterthought, Armin says:]
Who's responsible for this...?
they’re never actually gonna fuckin figure this out are they
[“Captive.” Caitlyn’s fingers don’t dig, but Armin may notice an abrupt stiffness at that word, as though it hadn’t occurred to her to frame their predicament in such a way. It had, of course, the moment she woke up. Still…
[They’re not at loss for options yet. The room is nondescript; four walls, a floor, a ceiling. Again, no sign of a door, any other means out or in. The physical stimulis to which this environment responds, however, is apparently more abstract.
[She’s about to muse on this aloud until the question roars back, demanding focus in a quiet voice.
[Breath in. Out, through her mouth. A marksman doesn’t falter, and her expression doesn’t change. She looks to his face again.]
What were you doing before we spoke? [Voice kept light. There’s no need to dig—physically. Unsaid, between steady lines: Would someone have reason to trap you?]
[Words can be simple as they’d like. The unsaid is invariably deafening. “We ended one.” “We eliminated it.” Personal bias. The picture isn’t clear but a strengthened grip is, pulls for it, and no one has ever stepped up to power with clean hands.
[Why fight at all?]
The person you love. [Someone at the end of the world. It’s a quiet question.] What happened to them?
[Under any other circumstances, maybe he'd blame her for asking such a brazen question, but why shouldn't she? It's not as if it won't be common knowledge. Eren Jaeger isn't just his late best friend. He's the devil that tried to destroy the world, the enemy of all enemies.
[It doesn't feel like it should be possible. He was his friend. He was his friend.
[What bias is there more personal, more suffocating, than loss?
[She draws the wrong conclusion of the circumstance: a threat eliminated, one war ended, a friend not allowed to live; a sequence, not the same event in one. The enemy seems apparent. Someone else is gone. And Armin has been destroyed.
[Forget chasms and oceans. Let him rest.
[Their arms are all but around each other; Caitlyn’s hold softens, but she doesn’t let go. Curls in more instead, slow, gentle. Not a solution, but an invitation.
[He’s done enough. He doesn’t have to smile, pretend to be steady. His head can fall.]
[It's too much to be held. Hell is a bed in a room with a stranger, and he should be grateful, but he isn't. He should collapse, but he doesn't. He doesn't, he just...lets his weight rest on her shoulder. Just a little...
[There are lights twinkling on the ceiling, darker than it was before. He just barely notices them in the periphery of his vision, like little stars. His eyes roll up.
[She notices as he does, her own defenses hardly down. It’s too much, but there are stars. The dark doesn’t care about what it swallows. It just does.]
It did. [Quiet. Her head only slightly tilts, to look. Distant lights betray no pattern.]
[He hasn't. Not yet. Walls keep the monsters away, but for how long? He hasn't been given permission until he has. He's not sure when he came to rest so heavily against Caitlyn, his body slightly turned, a fist curled around fabric, eyes heavy.
[He closes them. He doesn't say another word, dare risk starting another conversation. He's so very, very tired.
[And he's allowed to sleep, here in the arms of someone he barely knows, has no reason and no choice but to trust. Somehow, he manages...]
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pantheraliam) wrote2030-03-12 03:03 pm
no subject
[There's a bright flash, a loud boom like a distant explosion, and then they're on the water - yes, right there, tossed into an endless, churning sea. There's no time to be shocked. Armin clings to one side of the bed - it has sides now, high enough to keep the water out, a strange, makeshift boat. Blue eyes scan the storm - for what? He turns to face Caitlyn, every trace of that easy, forced smile gone.]
There's no land...
no subject
[A flash, a boom, and Caitlyn half expects to find the man on his knees with his soul torn asunder. Granted, with the way he clings, she’s not quite certain that hasn’t happened.
[Her own face could be more shocked. She takes a quick scan of the non-land, blinks off an eyeroll, and tosses the would-be rope aside.]
We’re stranded this way, then. [Similarly flippant, though—he has dropped the smile. That changes things.
[Her expression softens. Caitlyn doesn’t offer certainty where there is none, but she does reach out: a firm grip at his forearm. If he shirks she’ll withdraw, but it’s not a slow movement; it speaks for itself, she thinks. She’s steady, if nothing else.]
no subject
[Armin has always been unsteady, will always be unsteady, but usually, he's good at hiding it. Usually, these days, no one can tell at all.
[This woman, whoever she is, can tell. She offers her grip, and it's steady. Armin only shrinks in gratitude, nodding his head. He doesn't try to smile again. He's tired of smiling.]
We're stranded this way, then.
This is some sort of puzzle. It has to be.
[If it's not, then what? Blind torture? Armin's never been able to accept that.]
no subject
[He shrinks, but… it doesn’t quite feel like resistance. For a moment, she holds on.
[But this has to be a puzzle, and they can solve it. A squeeze, then she withdraws, about to offer new speculation except the boat immediately begins to tilt again.
[It… wasn’t. For a few seconds, there. It held steady.
[Caitlyn glances at sloshing sides. Back to her fellow prisoner at sea. Tentatively, watching, reaches forward again…]
HEHE
[They notice at the same time. Armin notices that Caitlyn has noticed, and then she's reaching out. He clutches her arm in turn, nodding his head at her. The sea calms, the boat stops rocking.]
no subject
[The sea calms. Two people, nearly strangers, reach each other over still water. There’s a question to answer—but it’s never just about the surface, is it?
[She nods, slow. He understands…]
Suppose you’ve avoided getting your sock wet.
[What happens if she pulls him in, wraps her other arm around his back, and holds?]
no subject
[It's a logical next step, one that Armin might have thought of himself, had he only a few more seconds to think about it. As it stands, he's pulled in, and it shocks him. The bed becomes more of a bed than a boat, and then, they're back in that room.
[Four walls. A floor, a ceiling.
[Armin grips Caitlyn just the same way she grips him, arms tucked around each other, fingers digging into biceps. He doesn't move.]
Why this...? I don't get it...
I...don't even know you're name. [What an odd realization. They're still clutching each other.] I'm Armin.
no subject
[What a peculiar solution. Then again, it’s the only one that’s ever been worthwhile.
[She could release him now, maybe, take that risk; but his fingers dig, and she can’t make herself leave first. It’s good for him, maybe.]
Armin. [A small nod.] My name is Caitlyn.
[A breath. Another.]
When we last talked… you seemed tired. [Still does.]
I thought you could use some rest.
no subject
It's true. This isn't exactly how I'd pictured it, but... [A dry "laugh". He looks over the edge of the bed, where that gray sea raged only moments ago; shakes his head.] Maybe it's stupid of me to complain.
[Beggars can't be choosers, right?]
no subject
[It is embarrassing, pointed out so bluntly, however quiet the volume. And it’s troubling, the idea that thoughts alone could shift an environment so drastically. When she invoked the sea, why didn’t he picture land? (And it had to have been Armin. Caitlyn is steady.) What else was in that endless stretch of blue?
[Cases to solve later. He gives himself no rest, it sounds like.]
I think… if anyone were to want for rest, and woke up in bed with a stranger… [In the most literal sense of the words.] …he might be justified in a complaint or two.
armin is like...is someone tryna get us to fu--
[Hah. Really, the laugh isn't entirely without its mirth. Armin is grateful for Caitlyn's understanding, her apparent empathy, and all without even knowing his name for more than a few minutes. They're still gripping each other, but his fingers don't dig.]
I'm not a fan of being held captive...
[Eren isn't the only one who felt caged.]
Maybe...if we continue, we'll really find the way out.
[Though, given the nature of their circumstances, he's not sure exactly what that would look like, or whether it would be something either of them are willing to do.
[Quietly, almost as an afterthought, Armin says:]
Who's responsible for this...?
they’re never actually gonna fuckin figure this out are they
[“Captive.” Caitlyn’s fingers don’t dig, but Armin may notice an abrupt stiffness at that word, as though it hadn’t occurred to her to frame their predicament in such a way. It had, of course, the moment she woke up. Still…
[They’re not at loss for options yet. The room is nondescript; four walls, a floor, a ceiling. Again, no sign of a door, any other means out or in. The physical stimulis to which this environment responds, however, is apparently more abstract.
[She’s about to muse on this aloud until the question roars back, demanding focus in a quiet voice.
[Breath in. Out, through her mouth. A marksman doesn’t falter, and her expression doesn’t change. She looks to his face again.]
What were you doing before we spoke? [Voice kept light. There’s no need to dig—physically. Unsaid, between steady lines: Would someone have reason to trap you?]
I hate them I hate them I hate them
[Armin takes her meaning. A diplomatic answer begins to form; he hasn't had a chance to practice this one yet.]
My world was about to be destroyed in a war. I'm a Commander in my nation's military. [Strange to admit. He's been one less than a day.]
And you?
one big-brained grip forward one catastrophic The Mask Stays On somersault back
Commander to Commander. [War at the end of the world and all.]
Yet you’re between the fight. [At the end? Hardly.] For whose purpose?
[Potential motivations for trapping two politically important figureheads? Myriad, but—why them. A pattern is an indicator, not the answer.]
no subject
For the purpose of destroying my home.
[Armin can say it with just as much bitterness as it's owed. Caitlyn will forgive him. He trusts this.]
The island I grew up on contains a resource the rest of the world covets. They want to invade our land and destroy our people to gain access.
[It sounds simpler than it should, less terrible than it is. He shakes his head.]
When I left...things had taken a turn. The largest threat...
[His fingers dig in where he grips Caitlyn. It's the first time they have since he first grabbed her. He doesn't notice.]
It was eliminated. We...eliminated it.
But I suppose I should have known. They wouldn't let us live merely for that...
no subject
[This changes things.
[Words can be simple as they’d like. The unsaid is invariably deafening. “We ended one.” “We eliminated it.” Personal bias. The picture isn’t clear but a strengthened grip is, pulls for it, and no one has ever stepped up to power with clean hands.
[Why fight at all?]
The person you love. [Someone at the end of the world. It’s a quiet question.] What happened to them?
[Did you let them go?]
no subject
[Under any other circumstances, maybe he'd blame her for asking such a brazen question, but why shouldn't she? It's not as if it won't be common knowledge. Eren Jaeger isn't just his late best friend. He's the devil that tried to destroy the world, the enemy of all enemies.
[It doesn't feel like it should be possible. He was his friend. He was his friend.
[Armin will never see him again.]
He was killed.
no subject
[What bias is there more personal, more suffocating, than loss?
[She draws the wrong conclusion of the circumstance: a threat eliminated, one war ended, a friend not allowed to live; a sequence, not the same event in one. The enemy seems apparent. Someone else is gone. And Armin has been destroyed.
[Forget chasms and oceans. Let him rest.
[Their arms are all but around each other; Caitlyn’s hold softens, but she doesn’t let go. Curls in more instead, slow, gentle. Not a solution, but an invitation.
[He’s done enough. He doesn’t have to smile, pretend to be steady. His head can fall.]
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[There are lights twinkling on the ceiling, darker than it was before. He just barely notices them in the periphery of his vision, like little stars. His eyes roll up.
[His voice is quiet.]
The sky opened up.
no subject
[She notices as he does, her own defenses hardly down. It’s too much, but there are stars. The dark doesn’t care about what it swallows. It just does.]
It did. [Quiet. Her head only slightly tilts, to look. Distant lights betray no pattern.]
I don’t think there’s any sense to it.
no subject
[He nods his head, cheek pressed into Caitlyn's shoulder.]
You're right. None of it makes sense.
It's not fair.
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[“It’s not fair.” The woe of naivety, not a military commander. Sometimes the child doesn’t die. She can’t begrudge him for it.
[The sentiment hangs in silence. It won’t be denied.
[Maybe minutes pass. Hours. Nights. But, in time:] If you’d like to sleep. I’ll keep watch.
[If he hasn’t drifted already…]
no subject
[He hasn't. Not yet. Walls keep the monsters away, but for how long? He hasn't been given permission until he has. He's not sure when he came to rest so heavily against Caitlyn, his body slightly turned, a fist curled around fabric, eyes heavy.
[He closes them. He doesn't say another word, dare risk starting another conversation. He's so very, very tired.
[And he's allowed to sleep, here in the arms of someone he barely knows, has no reason and no choice but to trust. Somehow, he manages...]