[ It's not a look she finds she likes. The only time she's been the focal point of any universe, it has been for ends she doesn't like. Her father's focal point, but not seeing her, only seeing what she could be, when properly trained. Armin's focus, and what it had seen, stripping down all the quiet and solitude she surrounded herself with to discover why it was that Annie had always held herself apart. Even Eren's focus, when he hadn't been able to deny the reality of what Armin had been saying.
Mikasa's focus, when she'd cut off her fingers and told her simply to fall. ]
Ice.
[ Is all she says in the end, looking into his small little cooler, at the blue blocks inside. She hesitates before reaching out, setting the box of ice cream bars on the counter. She reaches her hand in, touches one of the blocks, feels the chill on her fingertips. A flickering of her eyelashes as yet another small wonder of the modern world comes to her attention. ]
Whenever you wanted it. They sent it downriver during the winter, when it was harvested in the Northern regions. Only those in Wall Sina could afford to have had enough to keep it in a cellar for year-round use.
[It would be impossible for him not to notice that Annie's either never encountered one of those freezer blocks or has not yet been able to touch one herself. He moves, slides a little bit on the counter to give her plenty of room to investigate, so used to needing near total privacy to do his thing. It's not the same at all, of course, but far be it from him to crowd someone making a new, strange discovery.
Bit by bit, Annie volunteers more information about her world, and bit by bit, Will eases into a new puzzle in his head, connects, disconnects, dumps it all out, starts anew. Staying in walls, and one being home to something of the elite. The wealthy. Heirs of former glorious leaders in some political fashion or another, a hodgepodge of those who earned their stripes and those who were fortunate enough to be born into families that had, some taking initiative and others not giving a damn provided they could stay within a comfortable living zone. The Military Police, working under the head honcho himself—he's assuming a king is a king is a king. And Annie still found it a luxury, perhaps too new, perhaps too old to ever be used to it, perhaps a poor child an only child a child who strove for excellence a child who had someone to impress a child with only one parental figure a lonely—
—Family friction usually serves as a catalyst for personality development.
The puzzle gets unpleasantly blurrier the more he tries to turn the world's focus on her, ends up shaken like a magnetic sketch with knobs that won't behave.
Restart?]
These are just. [What do they look like? It's what they are.] Blocks. [As if it's not obvious enough, Will gingerly reaches to turn one of them to show the very obvious title, the other one having no label at all.] Sometimes they're in packs. Got a certain kind of gel in them, a chemical that freezes and stays cold for a long time. [He squints a little, uncertain of when that small smiley face sticker got stuck to it. Uncertain because he's become so used to it it's taken for granted by now, wasn't even a blip on his radar when he set the whole thing up for her to use as transport.] Toxic if you ingest it.
[So please don't ingest it in any way.]
You got an ice maker in your freezer at Nonah?
[He's still trying to figure out where that sticker came from, it looks like. Better to let that serve as distraction and ask anything but what he's got truly running through his mind.]
[ Takes a little effort, but no effort at all when weighed against what she's used to, in the larger sense of things. Annie is both rushing headlong into understanding as much as she can, and stumbling over the little details, the things people take for granted and never discuss as the here and now, as the small parts that make up the whole. Will is better about that - better in giving avenues to seeing the minutea, letting her ask questions, with half his answers being as leading as others.
There's little to the block other than textures and sights - the feeling of cold, btu he's explained that, too. She has to wonder. A chemical gel that can do all that? ]
What compound?
[ But it's an irreverent question - she shakes her head, setting down the ice block into the container, unconcerned with the little smililng face that looks up from something as frigid as she was meant to be. She'll remember these. Temeprature influence and control, like so many aspects of the modern world, made portable, convenient. ]
Didn't need ice if you were in the mountains, so much. Even in the summer, the creeks were still cold.
[ Mountains outside the Walls. Her outside perspective, taken in, during those years where personalities adapt and form. There are many parts of Annie stuck at eleven. Shy, unsure of herself with social interactions and her peers. The way she oscillates between the professional, the steady, the calm, and the quiet, the concerned, the unsure. When is it okay to care. When isn't it? Is she allowed to be this way, or that way, can she change, truly, in the end, can she be someone who takes the flow and finds a way to cut through the current?
Is she going with the flow here, too? In so many ways, she is. Adapting, pulling on whatever she must to be part of this society, this culture. Stumbling in ways she can't make up for in observation alone, opening herself up to asking, questioning, exposing her ignorance, letting it be used against her as much as she uses it to misdirect attention.
Learning about what she can. Wondering which things will matter most. Letting it all slide by, like words about friendship and obligation, honor and duty, ideals and the idealism that destroys. (That's why you're dangerous, Light. It's why any idealist is a danger, even as they might inspire.) Drawn like a moth to an oepn flame, she's not sure where she can draw the line between the infatuation of trying in this place, and the very real possibility of being incinerated in the very heat she seeks out.
What a way to go. The moth don't care... ]
Nothing much like Florida's been during the summer.
[He feels relief when she shakes her head after the question, when she continues instead of stopping to get the answer. It's not that he doesn't know the answer, but how he knows it, the reasons behind it. His work with the human body is a morbid, rotting line of business. Perhaps he could answer and her assume that he knows because he read up on it, because he was curious himself. But it's more likely that someone who puts the worst of the worst away knows from something much darker, and he's grateful he doesn't have to get into it.
Mountains, more pieces to add to her world, pieces got from her mouth and no one else. In the midst of it all, Will decides to take the box of ice cream and set it up himself, to see if she can understand why he does it one way as opposed to another. The box gets put in with enough room that she could reasonable stuff the blocks on either side and rather freeze it in place. But Will puts it in and places the blocks on top of it instead, puts the greatest source of cold right on top, covers almost the entire thing with them rather than just covering the sides. It's no genius method—there will be some slipping around and noisiness in place of what could have been quiet, but it's not something he would expect to be completely difficult to figure out. Better to have a few shuffling clunks than to lose product, as far as he's concerned.]
Depends on where you go in Florida. [Back to almost mumbling.] Down here, that's hard to find. You want a cool creek, you'll need to go somewhere with plenty of shade. Still won't be anything like it would in the mountains, but there's ways to make do.
[A hint of a smile, enough to suggest that Will's done his own searching for shady, cool places. That, no, this Heropa, this area doesn't offer the calm, coldness that comes with mountains, but with a little looking, some willingness to break outside the normal and get dirty...it's possible to find more than what's advertised, easily seen.]
adjusts horns on headband
Mikasa's focus, when she'd cut off her fingers and told her simply to fall. ]
Ice.
[ Is all she says in the end, looking into his small little cooler, at the blue blocks inside. She hesitates before reaching out, setting the box of ice cream bars on the counter. She reaches her hand in, touches one of the blocks, feels the chill on her fingertips. A flickering of her eyelashes as yet another small wonder of the modern world comes to her attention. ]
Whenever you wanted it. They sent it downriver during the winter, when it was harvested in the Northern regions. Only those in Wall Sina could afford to have had enough to keep it in a cellar for year-round use.
the power of christ compels you
Bit by bit, Annie volunteers more information about her world, and bit by bit, Will eases into a new puzzle in his head, connects, disconnects, dumps it all out, starts anew. Staying in walls, and one being home to something of the elite. The wealthy. Heirs of former glorious leaders in some political fashion or another, a hodgepodge of those who earned their stripes and those who were fortunate enough to be born into families that had, some taking initiative and others not giving a damn provided they could stay within a comfortable living zone. The Military Police, working under the head honcho himself—he's assuming a king is a king is a king. And Annie still found it a luxury, perhaps too new, perhaps too old to ever be used to it, perhaps a poor child an only child a child who strove for excellence a child who had someone to impress a child with only one parental figure a lonely—
—Family friction usually serves as a catalyst for personality development.
The puzzle gets unpleasantly blurrier the more he tries to turn the world's focus on her, ends up shaken like a magnetic sketch with knobs that won't behave.
Restart?]
These are just. [What do they look like? It's what they are.] Blocks. [As if it's not obvious enough, Will gingerly reaches to turn one of them to show the very obvious title, the other one having no label at all.] Sometimes they're in packs. Got a certain kind of gel in them, a chemical that freezes and stays cold for a long time. [He squints a little, uncertain of when that small smiley face sticker got stuck to it. Uncertain because he's become so used to it it's taken for granted by now, wasn't even a blip on his radar when he set the whole thing up for her to use as transport.] Toxic if you ingest it.
[So please don't ingest it in any way.]
You got an ice maker in your freezer at Nonah?
[He's still trying to figure out where that sticker came from, it looks like. Better to let that serve as distraction and ask anything but what he's got truly running through his mind.]
compells me to party
[ Takes a little effort, but no effort at all when weighed against what she's used to, in the larger sense of things. Annie is both rushing headlong into understanding as much as she can, and stumbling over the little details, the things people take for granted and never discuss as the here and now, as the small parts that make up the whole. Will is better about that - better in giving avenues to seeing the minutea, letting her ask questions, with half his answers being as leading as others.
There's little to the block other than textures and sights - the feeling of cold, btu he's explained that, too. She has to wonder. A chemical gel that can do all that? ]
What compound?
[ But it's an irreverent question - she shakes her head, setting down the ice block into the container, unconcerned with the little smililng face that looks up from something as frigid as she was meant to be. She'll remember these. Temeprature influence and control, like so many aspects of the modern world, made portable, convenient. ]
Didn't need ice if you were in the mountains, so much. Even in the summer, the creeks were still cold.
[ Mountains outside the Walls. Her outside perspective, taken in, during those years where personalities adapt and form. There are many parts of Annie stuck at eleven. Shy, unsure of herself with social interactions and her peers. The way she oscillates between the professional, the steady, the calm, and the quiet, the concerned, the unsure. When is it okay to care. When isn't it? Is she allowed to be this way, or that way, can she change, truly, in the end, can she be someone who takes the flow and finds a way to cut through the current?
Is she going with the flow here, too? In so many ways, she is. Adapting, pulling on whatever she must to be part of this society, this culture. Stumbling in ways she can't make up for in observation alone, opening herself up to asking, questioning, exposing her ignorance, letting it be used against her as much as she uses it to misdirect attention.
Learning about what she can. Wondering which things will matter most. Letting it all slide by, like words about friendship and obligation, honor and duty, ideals and the idealism that destroys. (That's why you're dangerous, Light. It's why any idealist is a danger, even as they might inspire.) Drawn like a moth to an oepn flame, she's not sure where she can draw the line between the infatuation of trying in this place, and the very real possibility of being incinerated in the very heat she seeks out.
What a way to go. The moth don't care... ]
Nothing much like Florida's been during the summer.
no subject
Mountains, more pieces to add to her world, pieces got from her mouth and no one else. In the midst of it all, Will decides to take the box of ice cream and set it up himself, to see if she can understand why he does it one way as opposed to another. The box gets put in with enough room that she could reasonable stuff the blocks on either side and rather freeze it in place. But Will puts it in and places the blocks on top of it instead, puts the greatest source of cold right on top, covers almost the entire thing with them rather than just covering the sides. It's no genius method—there will be some slipping around and noisiness in place of what could have been quiet, but it's not something he would expect to be completely difficult to figure out. Better to have a few shuffling clunks than to lose product, as far as he's concerned.]
Depends on where you go in Florida. [Back to almost mumbling.] Down here, that's hard to find. You want a cool creek, you'll need to go somewhere with plenty of shade. Still won't be anything like it would in the mountains, but there's ways to make do.
[A hint of a smile, enough to suggest that Will's done his own searching for shady, cool places. That, no, this Heropa, this area doesn't offer the calm, coldness that comes with mountains, but with a little looking, some willingness to break outside the normal and get dirty...it's possible to find more than what's advertised, easily seen.]