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jeankirschstein[ achoo!
jean can't sleep. this is normal; with tensions running so high this close to graduation day, it's a wonder that any given member of the 104th can manage a good night's rest. even the top cadets—they know who they are—must be feeling it, teetering on the edge. no one is safe. no one is immune.
some surely feel the pressure more than others. jean would like to think he's one of them, given that he's put everything at stake to not only make it out of training alive, but into the military police in the process. into the inner wall...where he can finally relax for a change, take it easy.
that won't be happening tonight. he knew that long before his sneezing stirred the other restless bodies surrounding him, snot trickling from his nose while they mutter in complaint. screw 'em. if he has to suffer out here in the cold, why shouldn't they?
for that matter, what's up with having to be out here in the first place? it'd be one thing if jean's eyes were set on joining the hijinks of the reconnaissance legion in the near future, but that hardly applies to him, let alone the majority of his fellow trainees. most, he figures, probably have their sights set on the garrison. maybe there are a scant few who share his ambitions, though whether or not they're actually up to the job remains to be seen. jean knows he is. he has to be, or it all ends here.
and what a way to end it! trampling about through the frigid, winter air, huddling like mice around an abandoned outpost—who's to say that an eoten or twelve won't stumble upon them in the dead of night, anyway? what good is a little campout a few miles from the wall going to teach anyone about survival, or the rages of war? they'd be better off just tearing the roof off the barracks and leaving it at that, honestly. at least jean would be in better company.
he doesn't know anyone around here. some of his friends were pulled off into tightly-knit (and largely unnecessary, in jean's eyes) patrols hours ago, or dragged to stand watch while the rest of the group settled down for the evening. it'd be nice if jean had been hand-picked for any of those, but of course, he's left both overlooked and to his own devices. is he not good enough, try as he might? he may be no ackerman—beautiful, beautiful ackerman—but that shouldn't mean he'll never get his own chance to shine. ]
To hell with this— [ jean's up in a flourish, much to the complaint of everyone else still struggling to get warm, far from the fires that dot along the outpost. if he can't silently sulk down the long, long road to slumber, then he may as well be up and at it, roaming the campsite like he would be if he were on more familiar ground, with familiar faces at his side to play hooky with him rather than be driven insane by a cacophony of snores in the dark. the girls' dorm doesn't have it that bad, do they?
there are others like him who think they have better things to do in their downtime than catch forty winks. many can be found merely talking amongst themselves, while others nervously peer at their surroundings, not wholly convinced they're going to be safe from an eoten attack. jean isn't, either, but he has faith in the regulars who are keeping peace around here. as long as they and the patrollers are doing their duty, then there's little to fear. it's when daylight shines upon them that they should be at their most afraid, according to what their everyday lessons have taught them.
not in much of a mood to be simply chewing the fat, jean has a grander scheme in mind as he continues his walk. he's half-hoping he'll be able to catch the eye of someone he recognizes among the guard, maybe play a round of cards or two, steal a drink to warm his bones that no one will notice, not this late in the day. it'd be far more effective than the scrap that's supposed to pass for a cloak clinging to him, hand-me-downs from the cadets who survived before him, and before that. can't even afford to give their ready-to-die young soldiers equipment well and truly up to date, can they...? ]
jean can't sleep. this is normal; with tensions running so high this close to graduation day, it's a wonder that any given member of the 104th can manage a good night's rest. even the top cadets—they know who they are—must be feeling it, teetering on the edge. no one is safe. no one is immune.
some surely feel the pressure more than others. jean would like to think he's one of them, given that he's put everything at stake to not only make it out of training alive, but into the military police in the process. into the inner wall...where he can finally relax for a change, take it easy.
that won't be happening tonight. he knew that long before his sneezing stirred the other restless bodies surrounding him, snot trickling from his nose while they mutter in complaint. screw 'em. if he has to suffer out here in the cold, why shouldn't they?
for that matter, what's up with having to be out here in the first place? it'd be one thing if jean's eyes were set on joining the hijinks of the reconnaissance legion in the near future, but that hardly applies to him, let alone the majority of his fellow trainees. most, he figures, probably have their sights set on the garrison. maybe there are a scant few who share his ambitions, though whether or not they're actually up to the job remains to be seen. jean knows he is. he has to be, or it all ends here.
and what a way to end it! trampling about through the frigid, winter air, huddling like mice around an abandoned outpost—who's to say that an eoten or twelve won't stumble upon them in the dead of night, anyway? what good is a little campout a few miles from the wall going to teach anyone about survival, or the rages of war? they'd be better off just tearing the roof off the barracks and leaving it at that, honestly. at least jean would be in better company.
he doesn't know anyone around here. some of his friends were pulled off into tightly-knit (and largely unnecessary, in jean's eyes) patrols hours ago, or dragged to stand watch while the rest of the group settled down for the evening. it'd be nice if jean had been hand-picked for any of those, but of course, he's left both overlooked and to his own devices. is he not good enough, try as he might? he may be no ackerman—beautiful, beautiful ackerman—but that shouldn't mean he'll never get his own chance to shine. ]
To hell with this— [ jean's up in a flourish, much to the complaint of everyone else still struggling to get warm, far from the fires that dot along the outpost. if he can't silently sulk down the long, long road to slumber, then he may as well be up and at it, roaming the campsite like he would be if he were on more familiar ground, with familiar faces at his side to play hooky with him rather than be driven insane by a cacophony of snores in the dark. the girls' dorm doesn't have it that bad, do they?
there are others like him who think they have better things to do in their downtime than catch forty winks. many can be found merely talking amongst themselves, while others nervously peer at their surroundings, not wholly convinced they're going to be safe from an eoten attack. jean isn't, either, but he has faith in the regulars who are keeping peace around here. as long as they and the patrollers are doing their duty, then there's little to fear. it's when daylight shines upon them that they should be at their most afraid, according to what their everyday lessons have taught them.
not in much of a mood to be simply chewing the fat, jean has a grander scheme in mind as he continues his walk. he's half-hoping he'll be able to catch the eye of someone he recognizes among the guard, maybe play a round of cards or two, steal a drink to warm his bones that no one will notice, not this late in the day. it'd be far more effective than the scrap that's supposed to pass for a cloak clinging to him, hand-me-downs from the cadets who survived before him, and before that. can't even afford to give their ready-to-die young soldiers equipment well and truly up to date, can they...? ]
