Zompania Draft - Draftees only, days 1-3.5

[lucetimods]

Who: All Draftees
What: This is your death. Followed by your time-traveling life and desperate bomb hunting.
When: From May 22 to May 20 to early May 23 (days 1-4)
Where: Zompania
Summary: Information post here
Rating: Varies on thread, please mark explicit material.

This post is for the draftee-only portion of the Zompania draft--the day 3 death, time travel to day 1, and then the events until the arrival of the reinforcements. Be sure to use the above info post for any plotting needs you might have. Enjoy!

Please note that there is a specific top-level comment thread for:

• The day 3 arrival of the draftees and the 6 hours that follow until the bomb is dropped
  
• Death--This thread can be treated as REFERENCE ONLY. Responding to it isn't necessary.
  
• Threads prior to departing for Zompania--post resurrection freak outs, arguments over how to proceed, etc.

All other threading, from day 1 until the reinforcements arrive, should be conducted as normal.

Be sure to tag this post appropriately: [canon] character name

Comments

day 3

[wipesfaith]

[Jean had been ordered to stand sentry outside the building that their small band of the Survey Corps had commandeered, and he does so - but not without trepidation. He's suspicious of that word, interrogate, an interrogation, which is the general plan the commander had outlined for him.

The question is how far the commander will go to get the answers he's seeking; he doesn't have to wonder long. When he's not fighting back cultists, some of whom are surely drawn in by the muffled screams that can be heard even from out here, he's trying hard not to listen and keeping his eyes up to avoid the maimed bodies littering the street, not dead but unconscious - his own doing.

Should Erwin emerge to check on him, he's ready with a rigid salute. But he can't quite meet his eye.]

[corps]

[ Erwin emerges for the first time in hours looking a great deal less pristine than he did the last time Jean had seen him. He's without his jacket, but there is blood on his clothes otherwise, as well as on the bare skin of his hands and his arms where he's rolled his shirtsleeves up. His hair is less than neat. But he is stoic as ever as he closes the door behind him and wipes his palms briefly on the front of his pants.

He acknowledges the salute with a nod, and though Jean may not be able to look straight at him, Erwin can, and does. ]

How are you holding up, Jean?

[wipesfaith]

[His gaze grazes the bloodstains before settling in the empty space just beside Erwin again. It just reminds him of how blood and grime color his own uniform and skin.

When he lets go of the salute, his posture is still rigid as his arms fall stiffly to his sides. He doesn't do well with lying, but the truth would serve no purpose here. Fantasies of insubordination - of making a scene and slinging himself away with his 3DMG - have flickered through his head as he fails to deaden himself to his blades and the give of flesh and the very human sounds of pain, but these fantasies are only passing distractions. In the end, what would it change?]

...Fine, sir. [In the most rudimentary sense of survival.] The cultists haven't been too much of a problem over here.

[corps]

[ Jean's nerves are obvious, and he has good reason for them. The circumstances have kept them all on edge, to say the least. But there is more than that in his hesitance to respond, and though the hard lines of Erwin's face don't soften, he can understand why Jean might feel uncertain or skeptical. He is well aware of how questionable his own actions are. ]

With any luck that will continue to be the case until we have the answers we need.

[ As ever, he won't apologize for taking action, no matter the cost. He holds his beliefs too firmly for second-guessing. If torturing cultists is what must be done to quickly gain information and prevent the draftees--his own men, in part--from experiencing a permanent death, he'll do so. He lets the two of them stand in silence for a few long moments, though he imagines that Jean must find it uncomfortable. ]

This isn't at all like fighting titans. [ Erwin isn't simply philosophizing; he's speaking to Jean, and his direct gaze makes that clear. ] It isn't a situation that anyone could have expected you to be prepared for. You weren't trained to face human enemies--not with any seriousness.

[ His brow furrows. ]

How are you holding up in that regard?

[wipesfaith]

[In the thick silence, he waits for Erwin to continue speaking. His eyes flicker to the commander and drop again; he shuffles his feet a bit, clenches and unclenches his fists, useless distractions against the tension pulled between them. When Erwin speaks again, it's not what he expected, and it shows in Jean's eyes when he looks up at him.

But he'll take the question posed as explicit permission to be honest.]

I hate it. [He fights to keep his words steady, not wanting to sound like a kid throwing a fit.] This isn't the battle I chose to fight...it's not why I became a soldier. I knew we'd have to fight a different kind of battle here, but I didn't think it'd be like this!

[But what did he expect? He knew from the start who the enemy was, and what they were, he knew, but he tried to convince himself that they were some kind of monster. ...Dammit, so much for holding his voice steady. His fear and uncertainty only get louder with each word, and he forces himself to stop and take a deliberate breath.]

...To be honest, I don't want to do this anymore.