The first thing to seep in is the cold. The damp chill radiating up through his thin undershirt, digging into his palm and the ridge of his brow pressed against the dreary stone floor beneath his head. The formidable man is wedged up unceremoniously on his side, left arm pinned and positively burning under waves of oxygen-deprived needles desperate to draw consciousness in with the same enthusiasm they might draw blood out.
How long he'd been out, it's difficult to say; whatever room he'd been deposited in is dingy at best, windowless, but brightly lit, and blurry to boot. Though his eyes had snapped open, it takes a moment for the focus to follow. But as soon as it does, the commander will be rolling his gaze, taking stock before sitting up abruptly—as he does so, something small and square digs itself into his thigh. A moment's pause, then he slips a hand into his front pocket, drawing out the offending bit of plastic. Perplexing, but unobtrusive. He'll set it aside for now, brushing disheveled bangs from his forehead as he surveys further.
It doesn't take long to notice that he is not the only one, and not long after that to notice his ankle is fettered to the piping behind him. Addressing the former first, the silhouette across the room is similarly chained and stripped of any identifying military crests, but the small yet stocky figure is impossible to misidentify.
"Levi,"
With that out of the way, Erwin is panning the room more thoroughly—long abandoned, totally unrecognizable, but it appears they are well and truly alone. Save for the corpse lying between them. Clutched limply in the hand closest to him, a revolver, and in the other... He can't quite make it out from his side, but it seems not much larger than the tape that had found its way into his pocket.
"Can you reach whatever is in his other hand?"
A command framed only in the interrogative by physical possibility alone. Meaning the captain had better find himself a few spare inches and retrieve it.
You never really know how precious oxygen is until you're completely deprived of it. His head fell a little too low and the only things his lungs inhaled was stagnant water. Submerged, fear begets panic and drowning suddenly becomes an option in his near future. Not.. that he wanted to struggle in knee-high water, it's just stature was always a prevalent problem for the captain.
His body feels weighted against the water, no more buoyant than a drowning child, but he manages to pull himself out. Through struggle, triumph shines in the form of smiley tiles against feet, and a chain so graciously hooked around an ankle. A slight tug would reveal that this isn't a cruel joke and that the shitty thing was actually stuck on him. In the end perhaps he stood too fast, or it was the attempt to actually breathe, but the world spins on heel and Levi is sent crumbling to the floor. His arms instinctively move to try and catch himself, but to no avail and he winds up falling with the force of it all.
Beyond the delirium, the simplest of things began to be noted: The tape had been set back in his pocket, since the piece of plastic (even with his name on it) didn't hold much use in itself. Erwin was on the other end of the room, possibly chained and in the same situation (It's hard to see entirely, the man wasn't particularly small in stature), and between them was an unknown dead body. When the bigger man moves he can't help but feel the slightest bit of relief and possible irritation. I mean, at least one of them could think their way out of it. With Erwin being the man he was, that should be an easy feat.
But then he manages to ruin the relief in one simple sentence. Real compassionate, Erwin.
"Does it look like I can reach it?" Tch. The sound is underneath his breath and he continues with the same tone. " How about you make a grab for the gun on your side."
Edited (I CAN'T TYPE. TUB STUFF YEAH) 2013-12-28 12:24 (UTC)
Perhaps he should be grateful, having been spared the indignity of being soaked to the skin and left to crawl out of the bathwater like a sewer rat. But even if he had, there are far greater priorities to address to get too terribly wrapped up in the surrounding filth.
His brow furrows with irritation in kind at the return of that order. Not exactly the tool they need at the moment. "Which do you imagine taking fewer bullets to sever, then, the chain or my ankle?" Nevertheless, he gives the distance some consideration. Well out of reach, just as expected; this isn't a situation likely to hand them things, and the things it did hand them are likely the most informative. Namely: the tapes. So Levi, if you please.
"If you can't reach it, find something to reach it with."
Obviously. If it makes the captain feel any better, the commander hardly sits in idle patience for him. Gathering up his feet beneath him and steadying himself against the wall behind, Erwin stands. It would take quite the dose or measure of force to drop a man like him, but the bigger they are, the harder they fall, and the longer it takes them to rise again. Not that that will stop him surveying the room from proper heights, sliding along the wall as far as his chain will allow.
There isn't much else to work with that jumps out immediately, but give him a minute, he's only just woken up.
He doesn't want to move. It's not the fact that the task would be laborious, it's the fact that the floor was disgusting. Tile was slick with some kind of liquid and from the texture of it all, it wasn't just stagnant water. The look on his face is stuck, nose wrinkling with every new feeling against his skin.
"Your ankle." Distaste latched itself to his tongue like the plague, spreading through movement as he attempted to reach the object. Several inches short of actually grabbing the device, he forfeits and moves back to the same exact position. Looking for another object was what Erwin had suggested, but it's just another act he didn't want to do. Begrudgingly, he'd still make an attempt. Orders were orders, even without insignia attached to those shoulders.
Exhaling in defeat, he makes a move for anything nearby. His movements are pretty noticeably cautious, almost like really confined limbs, half extending for loose pieces of wire. Everything is so absurdly gross, how Erwin could even move under such conditions was unfathomable. The effort of the act wasn't wasted, as he managed to acquired a slightly curved wire. The mission eventually ends in success, short of a couple of attempts to actually grab the damned thing.
"Do you even know what this is?"
Holding it between his index finger and thumb, he turns it in hand. The cluelessness on his face was a great way to say that he had no idea.
It isn't as if he's a habitually uncleanly man, or whatever horrid fantasy the neat freak might keep to himself; it's simple mind over matter that keeps the commander from recoiling at every unsavory sensation to reach finger- and toetips. The grime is just as thick upon the wall behind him as it is at Levi's feet, enough to have sent his hand skating where it landed, picking at the back of sleeve and shirt and sticking it to his skin. That, admittedly, gets the faintest of skeeved twitches away from the sudden cold and its implications, and thankfully his feet are polite enough to hold their own without further assistance from the dreadful surface. A man of higher priorities, yes, but one to wallow in the less-than-pleasant for any longer than necessary, he is not.
Stooping briefly to wipe the unfathomable on the knee of his trousers, Erwin's attention returns from scanning the room at large to volley back that bitter response with what might be mistakable for some spiteful half-cousin of amusement.
"Rhetorical."
A quip better reserved for different circumstances, one irritatingly obvious to be cast off on a wry smirk and an upward quirk of the eyebrows, but neither are forthcoming in their makeshift prison. He allows it to fall deadpan flat, taken instead with the bird's eye view of the captain's fruitless reach and subsequent effort to supplement it.
With the device out of the corpse's hand, even across the room, it comes under scrutiny. Small and lightweight, with what appears to be a row of switches along one side. Admittedly, "I don't," but that doesn't stop him moving out to the end of his chain toward the other man and kneeling back to his level, taking up the tape he had temporarily discarded and holding it out for as side-by-side of a comparison as their proximity can muster.
"Though if I were given a guess, I would assume it relates to this. Were you given one?"
He won't discourage a bit of investigative initiative, you know. Despite the state of its former owner, the player looks to be about the cleanest thing in the room Levi could be electing to touch, and yet he's holding it like a diseased rodent by the tail. There are buttons. Experiment.
The cleanest thing had been placed so neatly in the hands of the dead. Hell, for all they knew it was poisonous to touch and the clock was only ticking down. In this situation, though, how bad would that outcome really be? He was literally dying with every square inch his body came in contact with. He hadn't moved too far, and his restraint didn't just come from filth, that chain binding him to thick piping trapped him in this hell.
Erwin's voice prompts him to dig the tape out of his pockets. An "I was," slips past his lips before he unearths the tape. A quizzical look barely lights his eyes as he figures out, yes, the device opens and it does have a slot for the aforementioned cassette. Without further ado, he graciously (read: jams) the tape into the player. Granted, he didn't break it, but it came close to digging them further into the grave.
Not knowing which buttons lead to what, it takes him an entire minute before it starts to play, but when it does his internal commentary falls silent. Static lights the room, followed by a coarse, near smokey voice. It begins with the informal: "Hello, Levi," Turning the recorder in his hands his eyes fall into an irritated stare, directed toward a disembodied voice. Despite all of his scorn, it continues on.
"You're probably wondering where you are. Well, I'll tell you where you might be. You might be in the room you die in. Up until now you've put undying trust in the man before you. You've sat on the ringside and watched him throw countless lives away without so much as a single action against it. Now what do you see when you actually look at yourself in the mirror? How much do you know about the men around you? I see a man who barely managed to trust his own squad, but let them die under the command of one man. The same man who knew your enemy well enough to stage a counter attack and let her escape. Open your eyes, look around you. Who do you think the enemy is?"
And that was it. The silence after the tape stops is deafening and he's just staring at the object like it's a parasite. "What is this?" Accusatory tone bleeding through his voice, fit with narrowed eyes now looking for answers from Erwin.
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dizzyspells2013-12-23 05:06 am
no subject
How long he'd been out, it's difficult to say; whatever room he'd been deposited in is dingy at best, windowless, but brightly lit, and blurry to boot. Though his eyes had snapped open, it takes a moment for the focus to follow. But as soon as it does, the commander will be rolling his gaze, taking stock before sitting up abruptly—as he does so, something small and square digs itself into his thigh. A moment's pause, then he slips a hand into his front pocket, drawing out the offending bit of plastic. Perplexing, but unobtrusive. He'll set it aside for now, brushing disheveled bangs from his forehead as he surveys further.
It doesn't take long to notice that he is not the only one, and not long after that to notice his ankle is fettered to the piping behind him. Addressing the former first, the silhouette across the room is similarly chained and stripped of any identifying military crests, but the small yet stocky figure is impossible to misidentify.
"Levi,"
With that out of the way, Erwin is panning the room more thoroughly—long abandoned, totally unrecognizable, but it appears they are well and truly alone. Save for the corpse lying between them. Clutched limply in the hand closest to him, a revolver, and in the other... He can't quite make it out from his side, but it seems not much larger than the tape that had found its way into his pocket.
"Can you reach whatever is in his other hand?"
A command framed only in the interrogative by physical possibility alone. Meaning the captain had better find himself a few spare inches and retrieve it.
no subject
His body feels weighted against the water, no more buoyant than a drowning child, but he manages to pull himself out. Through struggle, triumph shines in the form of smiley tiles against feet, and a chain so graciously hooked around an ankle. A slight tug would reveal that this isn't a cruel joke and that the shitty thing was actually stuck on him. In the end perhaps he stood too fast, or it was the attempt to actually breathe, but the world spins on heel and Levi is sent crumbling to the floor. His arms instinctively move to try and catch himself, but to no avail and he winds up falling with the force of it all.
Beyond the delirium, the simplest of things began to be noted: The tape had been set back in his pocket, since the piece of plastic (even with his name on it) didn't hold much use in itself. Erwin was on the other end of the room, possibly chained and in the same situation (It's hard to see entirely, the man wasn't particularly small in stature), and between them was an unknown dead body. When the bigger man moves he can't help but feel the slightest bit of relief and possible irritation. I mean, at least one of them could think their way out of it. With Erwin being the man he was, that should be an easy feat.
But then he manages to ruin the relief in one simple sentence. Real compassionate, Erwin.
"Does it look like I can reach it?" Tch. The sound is underneath his breath and he continues with the same tone. " How about you make a grab for the gun on your side."
no subject
His brow furrows with irritation in kind at the return of that order. Not exactly the tool they need at the moment. "Which do you imagine taking fewer bullets to sever, then, the chain or my ankle?" Nevertheless, he gives the distance some consideration. Well out of reach, just as expected; this isn't a situation likely to hand them things, and the things it did hand them are likely the most informative. Namely: the tapes. So Levi, if you please.
"If you can't reach it, find something to reach it with."
Obviously. If it makes the captain feel any better, the commander hardly sits in idle patience for him. Gathering up his feet beneath him and steadying himself against the wall behind, Erwin stands. It would take quite the dose or measure of force to drop a man like him, but the bigger they are, the harder they fall, and the longer it takes them to rise again. Not that that will stop him surveying the room from proper heights, sliding along the wall as far as his chain will allow.
There isn't much else to work with that jumps out immediately, but give him a minute, he's only just woken up.
no subject
"Your ankle." Distaste latched itself to his tongue like the plague, spreading through movement as he attempted to reach the object. Several inches short of actually grabbing the device, he forfeits and moves back to the same exact position. Looking for another object was what Erwin had suggested, but it's just another act he didn't want to do. Begrudgingly, he'd still make an attempt. Orders were orders, even without insignia attached to those shoulders.
Exhaling in defeat, he makes a move for anything nearby. His movements are pretty noticeably cautious, almost like really confined limbs, half extending for loose pieces of wire. Everything is so absurdly gross, how Erwin could even move under such conditions was unfathomable. The effort of the act wasn't wasted, as he managed to acquired a slightly curved wire. The mission eventually ends in success, short of a couple of attempts to actually grab the damned thing.
"Do you even know what this is?"
Holding it between his index finger and thumb, he turns it in hand. The cluelessness on his face was a great way to say that he had no idea.
no subject
Stooping briefly to wipe the unfathomable on the knee of his trousers, Erwin's attention returns from scanning the room at large to volley back that bitter response with what might be mistakable for some spiteful half-cousin of amusement.
"Rhetorical."
A quip better reserved for different circumstances, one irritatingly obvious to be cast off on a wry smirk and an upward quirk of the eyebrows, but neither are forthcoming in their makeshift prison. He allows it to fall deadpan flat, taken instead with the bird's eye view of the captain's fruitless reach and subsequent effort to supplement it.
With the device out of the corpse's hand, even across the room, it comes under scrutiny. Small and lightweight, with what appears to be a row of switches along one side. Admittedly, "I don't," but that doesn't stop him moving out to the end of his chain toward the other man and kneeling back to his level, taking up the tape he had temporarily discarded and holding it out for as side-by-side of a comparison as their proximity can muster.
"Though if I were given a guess, I would assume it relates to this. Were you given one?"
He won't discourage a bit of investigative initiative, you know. Despite the state of its former owner, the player looks to be about the cleanest thing in the room Levi could be electing to touch, and yet he's holding it like a diseased rodent by the tail. There are buttons. Experiment.
BSING SAW TAPES
Erwin's voice prompts him to dig the tape out of his pockets. An "I was," slips past his lips before he unearths the tape. A quizzical look barely lights his eyes as he figures out, yes, the device opens and it does have a slot for the aforementioned cassette. Without further ado, he graciously (read: jams) the tape into the player. Granted, he didn't break it, but it came close to digging them further into the grave.
Not knowing which buttons lead to what, it takes him an entire minute before it starts to play, but when it does his internal commentary falls silent. Static lights the room, followed by a coarse, near smokey voice. It begins with the informal: "Hello, Levi," Turning the recorder in his hands his eyes fall into an irritated stare, directed toward a disembodied voice. Despite all of his scorn, it continues on.
"You're probably wondering where you are. Well, I'll tell you where you might be. You might be in the room you die in. Up until now you've put undying trust in the man before you. You've sat on the ringside and watched him throw countless lives away without so much as a single action against it. Now what do you see when you actually look at yourself in the mirror? How much do you know about the men around you? I see a man who barely managed to trust his own squad, but let them die under the command of one man. The same man who knew your enemy well enough to stage a counter attack and let her escape. Open your eyes, look around you. Who do you think the enemy is?"
And that was it. The silence after the tape stops is deafening and he's just staring at the object like it's a parasite. "What is this?" Accusatory tone bleeding through his voice, fit with narrowed eyes now looking for answers from Erwin.