I'm Not Your Friend [Lars & Ludwig]
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Post by Ludwig Beilschmidt on Oct 15, 2013 22:33:57 GMT
"Name?"
"Ludwig Beilschmidt."
Ludwig stood in front of the officer, a worn burlap sack containing his worldly belongings slung over one of his shoulders, an unsmiling expression on his face.
"Beilschmidt, huh? I was wondering how to pronounce that. You're in Barracks Three. Go grab yourself a bunk. Dinner starts at six pm sharp tonight, and if you miss it you don't eat." The officer pointed in the direction of the cadet barracks, and Ludwig nodded his silent thanks before starting off. Never dreamed I'd be here in two years, he mused as he walked, ignoring the small groups of cadets gathered around the yard. The tone of their voices indicated that they knew each other: small clusters of childhood friends or neighbors all come to join the military together. And while Ludwig heard worry and anger at times mixed in, the general mood was one of excitement. There was something slightly grand about the whole affair of the day, the day before his squad would officially start training. But Ludwig forced himself to stifle his own emotions before they started to run high. He'd been working here for two years already, and had seen plenty of the training. It wouldn't be easy. There would be injuries. A few people would die.
Ludwig had overcome that fear. Alright, perhaps not entirely, but fearing death was healthy. It kept you on your toes. Still, seeing the operation of the training facility firsthand had inured him: he no longer dreaded joining the military as he had not so long ago. It was a means to an end, a way to keep living now that his supplies of goodwill and luck had been exhausted. And he wasn't going to lie to himself: Ludwig had been curious too. Not excited, certainly, like the chatty groups out in the yard... anxious, perhaps, to start doing something new.
Barracks Three was a large house that enclosed one massive room, built entirely out of wood and heated at both ends by iron stoves. Massive bunk beds had been built up against the walls, taking up most of the floorspace; a large communal table occupied nearly all of the rest. Gas lamps hung from the ceiling, although right now the windows let plenty of natural light in. The place smelled like woodsmoke and earth and people, and Ludwig found that comforting.
Most of the lower beds had already been claimed by others, marked by bags or jackets and, in one case, a soundly sleeping man, and so the blond kicked off his worn shoes and climbed a stout wooden ladder to one of the higher rows that had been left relatively empty. It was a little strange, how the beds had been arranged, without any space between them at all, like one giant communal mattress. The lack of privacy irked Ludwig, but it couldn't be helped: he had committed to joining, hadn't he? He'd just have to adapt -- like he always had.
But the news wasn't all bad: one bed space closest to the wall rested empty, and Ludwig wasted no time in stealing it for himself, marking the spot with his bag and his jacket just to make doubly sure no one stole it from him. He didn't want to have to sleep between two other people, especially when he had no idea who snored or who kicked out in dreams, and if he ever wanted a modicum of solitude, he could just turn his face to the worn wooden wall. Feeling intensely satisfied with himself, Ludwig sat on the mattress and stretched out his legs. What to do now? Dinner wouldn't be for a while, but he didn't feel like leaving this space. He wasn't in the mood to be social -- although given that men were still filing through the door into Barracks Three, Ludwig doubted he'd have much of a choice.
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Post by Lars Van Dyke on Oct 16, 2013 5:57:28 GMT
"Filthy..." Lars mutters to himself as he slides his index finger slowly across the wooden frame surrounding an upper mattress. The tip of his finger that used to be pale is now evenly coated in thick gray dust and dirt. Thick eyebrows narrow disapprovingly at the amount contamination of the very mattress, that being said he did not even want to think about the rest of the room. He blows the dust off of his finger, watching it fly off of his fingers and spread in the air like flies. Or was that a real fly... The ash blond scoffs, absolutely mortified by the hygenic state of the barracks.
Granted, Lars knew a small room shared by six men (boys,even.) was not going to be a safe haven of cleanliness and moral hygiene. But was it too much to ask for a decent place to sleep ?He did not picture a royal castle with maids and chiffon canopies, well once, but only in his dreams. But this? When was the last time these sheets were even properly washed, the last time a broom was passed along the floors. The thick smell of sweat is only going to thicken over a few days when other Cadets collapse into their beds from insane exhaustion without proper baths.
Well, this was going to be exciting.
Lars briefly allowed golden eyes to examine the room, aside from the chatty Cadets and the aging mahogany, the ash blondes biggest peeve about the room are the mattresses. Each bed has a universal shape and form set to it, separated by a simple wooden bar that he is going to assume is a poor excuse for a headboard and one pillow per bed (Well, a piece of cloth stuffed with feathers.). Lars' main problem besides the dirt and being surrounded by five other sweaty males, was the size of the beds. He knew he would have problems getting comfortable considering the bed did not even exceed six feet and the Dutchman stood a solid Six feet five inches... Chances are if he slept in the middle bunk, he would wake up with feet in his face, or his own feet in someone elses' face. If he slept on the bottom edge, his feet would dangle off the edge, and the Dutchman absolutely refused to sleep on the floor.
With that, Lars decides he is going to take a top bunk in the uppermost corner; that way no one can kick him in the face and it would be slightly more comfortable. He nods accordingly, and sets his luggage down at the bottom of the bed. Dinner was scheduled in about an hour, so in that time frame the Dutch man should really wash up and then unpack the rest of his belongings later.
He disappears outside to briefly ask a Trainer for directions to the communal washroom. "It's going to be located in the West Wing... right beside Barracks Five."
West Wing. Barracks Five. Dank je. Lars easily commits the minor information to memory, and easily turns on his heel to make his way back inside of the dorm. He pushes the door open and makes his way in, his bag is still in the same position on the floor, and he is about to gather his toiletries when his eyes fall upon the sight of someone sitting on his bed.
Immediately, his lips turn downward in a small frown and the other male sitting on the mattress. The other male has already claimed the territory with his own belongings, or at the very least he assumes he has. Lars decides he can give him a heads up and be nice about it, if he really tried.
"Hej." He steps in front of the other male, arms crossed and a thick eyebrow raised in curiosity; his arms uncross and he merely points his index finger to the bed the other male is sitting on.
"You're sitting on my bed." He states as-a-matter-of-factly. The ash blonds lips part to continue on, voice firm, flat, and uncaring. So if you would be so kind as to move... I would highly appreciate it."
There. That was nice, wasn't it ?
Yes. Good. Smooth, Lars.
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Post by Ludwig Beilschmidt on Oct 19, 2013 0:05:30 GMT
As he continued to relax on the bed, Ludwig had just about made up his mind to just shelve his hesitations and go introduce himself to a few of the other soon-to-be-cadets when he heard someone call out. It took Ludwig a moment to locate the source of the voice, but as he leaned against the wooden railing at the foot of the bed he spotted the speaker: a very tall man with an unusually fluffy-looking haircut. Ludwig stared cooly down at the stranger as he accused him of taking his bed. For a moment, the blond felt worried, but he kept his emotions far from his face as he glanced back at the mattress he'd decided was his. Neither the bed nor the cubbyholes built into the wall at the head of it bore any contents aside from a fine layer of dust. Inwardly, Ludwig scowled. He hadn't even officially started his military training and someone was already trying to bully him. Fantastic.
But Ludwig wasn't used to backing down, especially if his antagonist was on the same level as him. Leaning over the railing once again, Ludwig addressed the man, "There's nothing up here that belongs to you. If you wanted the bed you should have gotten here earlier." He pointed to the other beds, with all of the clothing and supplies and random junk piled on them to save a spot, realizing that perhaps it was just random luck that this man had gotten here later than usual. It certainly didn't excuse his attitude, trying to steal Ludwig's lucky spot, but Ludwig reminded himself that he didn't have to be so needlessly harsh.
"Sorry," he offered, the serious expression on his face softening just a little, "but I wanted a bed next to a wall and I'm not giving it up. It's a shame you weren't here soon enough to get it, but that's just unlucky." In case he hadn't gotten his point through, Ludwig slid over even closer to the wall, now more thoroughly sitting on the bed that was absolutely his, the bed he wasn't going to trade or share. It was almost embarrassing, how quickly he'd gotten attached to a random bunk in a random building, one that had seen plenty of occupants before and would see plenty after he had left. There was nothing special about it, aside from it's location against the wall. But somehow everything now hinged on this bed. Ludwig realized a few of the other cadets were now watching his disagreement with the other man play out. He still needed to make some kind of allies here, so perhaps he should try to be cautiously nicer.
"The bed next to this one is still free," he pointed out, gesturing to the empty mattress nearby, "so if you really want to sleep near a wall, that might work." He hoped he hadn't just given the other man leave to steal his spot when he was absent. Skipping dinner hadn't really been in his plans tonight, but Ludwig would do what he had to do to keep his spot safe, and he had gone without dinner before and lived. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that. Maybe peer pressure would make the stranger's attitude change, but so far none of the other observers had said anything: they were watching silently, waiting to see how the interloper would react.
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Post by Lars Van Dyke on Oct 19, 2013 4:21:33 GMT
"I was here earlier..." Lars responds, and realizes that perhaps playing the defensive card would not do him so well. This other man seemed rather...proper. "Look, let's start here.I arrived here ten minutes ago. I stepped out for a second to ask for some directions..." Hopefully, with explaining the circumstances the stranger will rethink the situation and merely step down from his post.
When Lars did come earlier perhaps the other blond male was not there, or just blended in with the other nameless bunk mates Lars clearly had no intention of associating with. Either way, it was his bed and he wanted it back. "Look, see, my bags are right here." A pointer finger is cast downward to bring his luggage to the blonds' attention; seeing as how his luggage was in the area first, then the bad was to be granted his.
That being said. This is mine. You could have any other one but this one."Lars expects the other Cadet to merely nod, realize his mistake and leave soundly, but instead he seems rather stern and defensive about his claim on the mattress, voice overcome with attitude and outward annoyance. It makes Lars' eyebrows narrow and fingers curl into a fist. He loosens his grip and tightens it again once more, repeating these steps a few more times in vain attempts to calm his nerves down. The twenty-year old really did not want to start off his second-year training with a useless fist fight over a mediocre mattress that would only grant him hours of cleaning the barracks as punishment. (Though, the barracks were long overdue for a proper cleaning anyway.)
"Sorry." He hears the other male mutter pathetically. The Dutchman only rolls his eyes at the apology, thin lips cast downward in a disapproving scowl. Really, he could be polite all he wanted but if he was not going to get up and move then the apology was just incredibly insulting, rather than comforting. "Look, you only want an upper mattress. I actually need one." He is not going to go into his reasoning why, seeing as how it was not anyones business but the Dutchmans; assuming the other man was not a complete imbecile then perhaps he could piece together that Lars' size was not going to be comfortable for another bed.
His teeth grit behind the thin, flat line of his lips as he watches the other male scoot closer to the wall in defense of the bed. "The bed next to this one is still free." His eyebrow raises in curiosity at the suggestion of moving to another post, turning his head slightly to look at the other identical mattress.
Lars considers the suggestion for a bit, but honestly, now that he has opened up this argument with this rather rude stranger the last thing he wants to do is step down. The ash blond heavily disliked being bossed around or told what to do (well, by people on the same level as him), so he brushes the suggestion aside. A livid sigh escapes through Lars' lips as he turns back to face the blond, golden eyes glaring into piercing cerulean ones that held the exact same determination as his own.
In this short-lasting interaction Lars has realized a few things: For one, people are staring at them. Not that it mattered to him how he would be perceived later on by this. Probably as an asshole, or the most popular one he's heard before, a 'dick' But it is not as if that is anything new. Two, this man was incredibly determined and was not intimidated by the ash blond at all, which at the end of the day was actually respectable, yet Lars was beginning to get the idea that the man was just going to stay put where he was, even through dinner. And three, despite being absolutely unreasonable about moving the blue-eyed man still whole-heartedly offered suggestions to try and find a solution most comfortable for everybody. He was rejecting the Dutchman's pleas as a whole and then trying to "help" him? Lars then draws the conclusion that this man is probably very full of himself and inconsiderate.
And now, Lars entered his first day of camp absolutely pissed off by this guy. Finally his anger swells up in his chest and with a sudden huff, his voice rises a bit, bringing his hand up so his fingers curl around the upper frame of the mattress.
"Are you deaf, dumb, or both?" Lars snaps with the slight tilt of his head, as if asking a rather serious question. "I'm going to safely assume both. Since i've been asking you rather nicely and you're continuing to be such a child about it. Have the god damn mattress."
The Dutchman barely has to bend down to snatch up his luggage, indignantly turning on his heel and throwing his belongings over his shoulder; his strides are long and the trip is short-lived as he reaches the other side. He notices that another cadet has put their belongings on top of the upper mattress identical to the blond mans' and Lars shoves it to the side, some of it even falling on the floor, and throws his stuff on top. "Hey!" The seemingly younger Cadet yells at him, and the ash blond only has to stare at him so that hes' scared enough to just choose a lower one.
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Post by Ludwig Beilschmidt on Oct 20, 2013 22:07:08 GMT
As the other man tried to prove somehow that as he'd reached the barracks first he deserved first choice of beds, Ludwig found his dislike for him increasing. The new arrival wasn't backing down, for one, and even the amount of luggage he'd brought irked Ludwig: even everything he owned hadn't been able to fit into a single rucksack, who took that amount of possessions with them to a military barracks? The blond saw it as a clue that the other man came from a more wealthy family, which also explained his attitude problem, and Ludwig had never liked wealthy people, mostly because they tended to look down on those in need instead of lending a hand. He watched the other man with narrowed eyes, the hint of a frown playing at his lips as the other continued to argue.
"Look, you only want an upper mattress. I actually need one."
Why, Ludwig almost shot back, does sleeping close to the ground affect your beauty rest? True, the stranger was one of the tallest people he'd seen today, but the mattresses weren't small: they extended continuously across the length of a bunk. If he couldn't fit lengthwise, all he had to do was learn to sleep diagonally. Apparently, such an act either hadn't occurred to him or was beneath him, however: the man's expression had only gotten angrier when Ludwig had scooted over to protect his property. Despite the anger he felt towards this rude stranger -- who apparently was going to be training with him, wasn't that just wonderful -- Ludwig also felt worried. The man easily looked angry enough to throw punches, and Ludwig knew that any and all parties involved in fights got punished. He hadn't planned on starting off this new chapter of his life with a black mark already on his record.
To his surprise, however, the man didn't decide to storm up the ladder and deck him.
"Are you deaf, dumb, or both?"
The scowl on Ludwig's face grew angrier, although his cheeks and ears turned red; he'd never been insulted so bluntly before.
"I'm going to safely assume both. Since I've been asking you rather nicely and you're continuing to be such a child about it, have the god damn mattress."
For one brief, glorious moment, Ludwig thought he might have won the argument when the man bent down to seize his luggage and storm off. Maybe he'd be requesting a bunk in a different barracks? He looked rich; he could probably bribe the right officials. And then he'd be out of Ludwig's hair aside from during training, when Ludwig would easily wipe the floor with him (he had made this decision just now). But instead, the stranger simply crossed the room and evicted another cadet, shoving the young man's belongings onto the floor unceremoniously and claiming an oh-so-precious top bed for himself. The shock Ludwig felt lasted only briefly, but Ludwig wasn't about to let this affront go unanswered for. Already he'd made up his mind on what to do… although in the end, he would be the one losing out. That was just the way it had to be.
"Hey, you," Ludwig called out, swinging over the wooden rail of the upper bunks and landing heavily on the floor. The young cadet who had been evicted looked around wildly, and then realized Ludwig had been addressing him.
"Yes?"
"Grab your stuff and take my bed," the blond replied, bending down to pick some of the other man's belongings off of the floor and carefully tip them over the railing onto the precious spot that had recently been his. The cadet didn't seem to understand what was going on and, obviously fearful that he was going to become some kind of pawn in this argument, quickly raised a protest, "Really, that's not necessary, it's fine-"
"You got here first, and it's not fair that Captain Dandelion over there kicked you out," Ludwig said calmly, the anger gone from his face and voice. "I'll just pick another bed. Only, if you could hand me down my bag once you're up there, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it." Calmer now, the cadet nodded and climbed up the ladder, passing down Ludwig's lone rucksack carefully when he reached it.
"Thanks," Ludwig offered, and the cadet nodded in return. Glancing over his shoulder to shoot a cold glare at the idiot who'd caused this entire mess, Ludwig reluctantly began looking around for an empty space yet again. He'd have to abandon all hopes of privacy for the time being, but at least he hoped he had done the right thing.
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Post by Lars Van Dyke on Oct 26, 2013 19:06:22 GMT
Lars climbs up the ladder to reach his top bunk with ease; this time bringing his luggage up with him. It's spacious, a tad more private, and directly across the blond male he had been arguing with earlier. Although making friends this year was honestly the least of his worries, it was not as if Lars purposefully set himself out to be such a bad man.
The Dutchman just liked ease. He liked smooth transactions that required no argument or negative feedback, where people could come to an understandable agreement with no hassle or any strings attached. When things do go array, however, is mostly where things begin to get complicated. Lars is an inhumanly patient man, but only in situations he knows will lean toward his favor. In a case like this, concerning self-righteous, disrespectful pricks like his roommate he knows arguing would be pointless.
So he takes the simplest course of action, and that's claiming another bed. True, he could have put some more effort into moving the other Cadets' belongings, but Lars could not be bothered. He was already in a bad mood now, and the fact that he's in a bad mood makes him even more distant and calloused.
So he begins to quietly unpack his luggage; it’s a decent size. Equipped with his casual clothing, his formal clothing (you never know when a situation may arrive.), his toiletries, a journal given to him by his sister, several of his sketch pads, some charcoal pencils, some snacks made by his mom, his dads' military books, his boots, and his sleepwear. True, his mom did overpack but it is not as if Lars did not appreciate the sentiment. As he sifts through his belongings, the deep voice of his roommate grabs his attention. “Hey, you.” His eyes wince a bit, was the other man looking to fight ? Because the ash blond would not hit somebody unless he was hit first, and if that was what the other man wanted then so be it.
“Grab your stuff and take my bed.” The Dutchman realizes that the blond man is not speaking to him, but instead with the Cadet Lars had evicted earlier on. The other boy is modest and quiet, and for a split second the ash blond does feel slightly guilt for his earlier temper tantrum. He would make it a point to explain himself to the younger man later on in private. (Not apologize, those are two completely different things.)
"You got here first, and it's not fair that Captain Dandelion over there kicked you out," Lars feels his shoulders stiffen a bit at the insult. He was not exactly sure what ‘Captain Dandelion’ was supposed to mean. It’s not as if that term existed where he came from, but he can safely assume it was supposed to be offensive. Was the other man implying that Lars was some kind of self-centered prima donna?
“I can hear you.” He states without hesitation, not even looking up from his belongings. The Dutchman now feels kind of unwelcome in the bunks, which is a feeling he supposes he will have to grow accustomed to. He decides to take it upon himself to climb down from his mattress, although he did not want to leave his belongings alone, afraid that animosity may drive his roommates to vandalize his stuff.
From the way they seemed intimidated, Lars realizes it is kind of a farfetched thought.
When he reaches the bottom, he can practically feel the heavy stare on his back and it makes the ash blond incredibly uncomfortable. Hes’ conscious of the of the blonds’ resentment toward him already, and by all means Lars knew he deserved it. But he was not prepared to live in a hostile environment for the remainder of their training years. And so he stands a few feet before him, golden eyes meeting with the azure ones of his self-proclaimed enemy. His glare remained unwavering and unrelenting, but Lars still made it a point to step up to him. The attention of the other Cadets in the room is drawn to the pair, as if they are about to fight to the death at any given moment.
The ash blond appears to be unimpressed by the other man, although now that hes’ standing Lars can properly evaluate him. The other is shorter (Although compared to the Dutchman that is not anything new.), built with broad shoulders, and a strong jaw. His clothes seem rather normal, and to be honest there is nothing really distinguishing about him.
Except maybe his attitude.
He allows his stare to longer for a bit before finally taking in a light breath, before speaking.
“My name is Lars.” He states evenly, figuring the best thing to do would be to start with something simple.
“And as you may know, we’re going to be here for a year.” He continues.“Anything you have against me you should just shove it away now, and this can be easier on the both of us. If not, I openly suggest filling out a request for another room.” That was Lars’ polite way of saying, ‘Get over it, or get out’, because he was perfectly fine with starting off the year with a bad impression from other Cadets, but he did not want to come to the bunks after conditioning just to fight some more with a stranger.
“I’ll be seeing you.” With that, the ash blond takes a step back and turns on his heel. Dinner was going to be ready soon anyway, and he hoped that any interactions from here on would be much less hostile.
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Post by Ludwig Beilschmidt on Oct 27, 2013 1:36:11 GMT
Ludwig expected the other man to react, honestly. He hadn't exactly been quiet or subtle about anything he'd done, but that had been the point. Refusing to give up his space to someone who hadn't earned it and then instead giving it to someone who had was the Right Thing to do, and that was important. Although he'd never been the most social person, Ludwig could tell that he'd already made somewhat of a good impression on the other cadets; one or two of them indicated empty spaces next to their beds on the bottom bunks. Ludwig selected one, next to a skinny guy with red hair, and set his backpack there to claim his space before turning to face the stranger.
"I know you can hear me," he replied matter-of-factly. It's one big room, of course you can hear me. You'd have to be deaf not to. Ludwig bit back a sigh: he didn't normally insult people in his mind for being dumb, but this idiot had gotten on his bad side immediately. His irksome presence in the room worsened when Ludwig saw him pulling out books, journals, sketchpads, and what looked like snacks. He couldn't help it: he tended to hate people from the upper crust. They were entirely unsympathetic, they thought the world revolved around them, and the newcomer had done nothing to change that assumption in Ludwig's mind.
The stranger began climbing down from his high position, and although he didn't appear to be in any kind of a hurry, Ludwig felt the muscles in his shoulders tense. Perhaps he had gone too far by doing the Right Thing, by giving the other cadet his space, and now there would be a fight. The other cadets watched curiously as well, the same thought clearly on their minds. As the man drew up in front of him, Ludwig realized the jerk was taller than he was, but somewhat skinnier. If there would be a fight, he himself would have the advantage.
But nothing of the sort broke out.
"Ludwig," the blond returned in a serious voice. As the other man -- Lars -- went on, Ludwig felt his temper rising again. This moron tries to throw him out of a space he rightfully claimed, actually does throw out another cadet, and then has the gall to say that if Ludwig didn't like it, he could leave?! There was nothing fair about any of that, and for a moment, Ludwig's eyes turned icy. His anger quickly crystallized into determination.
"We're going to be here for longer than a year," he corrected sharply. "And I've got nothing to say to you." You're not worth my time, Ludwig knew automatically, I'll let my actions on the training ground speak for what I have to say to you. During hand-to-hand combat he wouldn't need an excuse to beat up this would-be bully. "See you, then," he returned as Lars walked off. He wondered how long Lars would last. He didn't seem like a soft city boy (although he did have some nice things), but Ludwig knew and disliked his type. Hopefully the other man would quit within the month and the camaraderie of the barracks could be restored.
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Post by Lars Van Dyke on Nov 5, 2013 4:07:30 GMT
’Ludwig’Lars commits the name, as well as the icy blue stare that accompanies it to memory. Everything including the seriousness in Ludwigs’ voice was an immediate give the pair was rarely going to get along this year. Making friends at camp was not one of the Dutchman’s main intentions, but neither was making enemies. It seemed even when Lars did not try to come across as a rude standoffish jerk, it was just something sadly akin to his nature. ”My mistake, then; a year and a half or what have you. All depends.” He replies rather promptly, because it seemed Ludwig needed something to snap at without being completely forward at how livid he was with Lars; even though they are both incredibly aware of the mutual animosity. Lars can feel himself being stared down, judged and observed; not only by Ludwig but by the other Cadets in the room as well. It had been official that Lars was the brat of the room and Ludwig was some kind of savior. Lars may have been a jerk but he definitely read the ambience pretty well. As of right now, he was put off by the growing hostility aimed toward him (he might even be brave enough to say he felt a little threatened). Ludwig is obviously more built than Lars, albeit a bit shorter. As of current, the ash blond is only toned and extremely tall… a bit on the lanky side really. He still has yet to develop as much muscle as Ludwig, but only at nineteen and his second year in training he had much more time to build up stamina. ”And I’ve got nothing to say to you.””Good to hear. If that’s the case, then these next two years should be smooth sailing. Wouldn’t you agree, Ludwig?” Lars allows a small smile to tug at the corners of thin lips; not meant to be in a demeaning manner, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t amused by the entire situation. Even in this current discrepancy, Ludwig seemed like a very interesting man. Lars exits the room in even strides. His skin is met with the welcoming air outside of the bunks, finding it to be less stuffy and uncomfortable compared to his previous environment. --- One Week Later --- "Cadets! Line up at Attention!" Lars' back straightens instinctively at the command, hands neatly folded behind him and resting at the small of his back; his stance is perfect and his chin tilts upward, face completely stoic as he awaits further orders. "We're going to be doing sparring exercises. The goal is to get the opponent on the ground first. First-years will pair up with other first-years, and you have five minutes to do so. You!" There is a long, uncomfortable silence that lingers on the Training Ground. It takes the ash blond a long moment before realizing a tanned pointer finger is directed his way. "Step forward and state your name.""Lars Van Dyke, sir!" He says with a low, authoritive voice. "Van Dyke, you look like a piss-poor excuse for a soldier, and you spend too much time on your own hair. Is that right, Cadet !?""That's correct, sir!" Of course it's not true, you fucking tool... He thinks bitterly to himself, but he knows embarassment is a given part of this Training process. He would have to face that kind of thing at some point or another. And he preferred sooner rather than later. "Prove to me you're not an absolute priss, Van Dyke! You're goal today is to pin..." The trainer pauses, surveying the other Cadets before his eyes seem to land on somebody. Lars cannot see who he picks but it seems to be someone from behind him in formation. "Beilschmidt." Lars only winces a bit as he tries to recognize the name, nothing comes to mind but he’s very sure he can take whoever he’s supposed to be up against. In his peripherals he can see somebody walk up to his side, standing a foot away at shoulders’ length. A familiar strong jaw with slicked black blond hair comes into limited view, and the Dutchman tries his best not to laugh. His face remains emotionless, but his eyebrow does twitch slightly and his fingers instinctively curl around each other behind his back. Although Lars would be an absolute liar if he said he wasn't excited for these circumstances. During the entire week he and Ludwig had not spoken a word to eachother, not since their very first encounter. No, both men had a mutual understanding that their only communication would remain unwavering glares from across the room. They knew associating with eachother was just a bad idea, and would have preferred their cold silent treatments to remain a permanenet thing. But fate had something different in mind for them, it seemed. After a few more pairs are called off the formation disperses into their private sectors on the training grounds. The Dutchman undoes his formal stance of attention and to face Ludwig head on; dressed in a simple white T-shirt, black slacks tucked into high boots, and fists wrapped in white bandages. "Good morning, Ludwig." He can't help but smile a bit, which makes the Dutchman come across as smug, but really he was smiling becuase the circumstances was all too comical. "It's nice seeing you again."
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Post by Ludwig Beilschmidt on Nov 18, 2013 1:44:17 GMT
”Good to hear. If that’s the case, then these next two years should be smooth sailing. Wouldn’t you agree, Ludwig?”
Couldn't agree more, Ludwig answered inwardly, but he didn't deign to give a verbal reply. He simply maintained his hard expression, half-certain that his name had just been made fun of, until Lars left the barracks. Instantly, the atmosphere seemed to lighten up a little bit. Ludwig let out a sigh and relaxed, listening to the other cadets talk about what had just occurred; most of them sounded none too impressed with Lars, and one particularly mouthy guy was bragging that people like Lars never lasted long in the military. They were used to the cushy life, he said, and the training was too intense, the 'reward' too unsatisfying, especially if you weren't good enough to make it into the top ten slots. Ludwig supposed that made sense.
A few people approached him to talk and Ludwig struck up a somewhat awkward conversation, looking more to make acquaintances or friends than to continue dissing Lars. As much as he disliked the man, Ludwig wasn't too much of a gossip, and with plenty of new cadets arriving by the hour, the conversation soon shifted elsewhere. What kind of food would be served in the mess hall? Would training really be as hard as it was rumored to be? How were they supposed to learn to kill Titans without killing actual Titans, for that matter? In the midst of the babble of conversation, Lars did eventually return to the barracks, but aside from a quick glance, most everyone just ignored him.
The first week of training proved to be an even bigger distraction than just regular life. Ludwig had not underestimated how hard it would be. Yet even he, in good physical shape, ended up crawling into bed at night exhausted and covered in bruises. A few of the cadets from their barracks quickly quit (although Lars, noticeably, was not among them), and Ludwig was even able to steal back a precious spot next to the wall on the bottom row of bunks. Despite the difficult training, everything seemed to be working out well: although they never seemed to have enough food or rest, Ludwig could see some of the faces of his fellow cadets hardening. They were all preparing for this kind of abuse to go on a long time. And Ludwig himself had no intention of quitting. He literally had nowhere left to go, but even if he had, he doubted he'd quit. At this point, it felt like he had something to prove.
After one week, when the physically weaker candidates had been shuttled off to other regiments and the mentally weaker candidates had gone home in the wagons, the squadron had gathered for hand-to-hand combat practice. Ludwig wasn't sure how he felt about the sessions. His physical strength had helped him, but he wasn't exactly light on his feet. He hadn't gotten a good feel for what he was even supposed to be doing because half of the cadets didn't take the sessions seriously at all. But he'd just keep trying to improve. It certainly couldn't hurt to learn to fight properly.
The instructor that morning ended up calling out a familiar face; Ludwig bit back a snort as the man openly taunted Lars about his poofy hairdo. His laughter died in his throat as the man proceeded to call his last name. It's what I get for that, he thought inwardly, his expressions set in a steely frown as he stepped forward and the instructor left to pair off the other cadets, I get to try and convince this idiot to fight. But Ludwig abruptly realized he'd been handed a golden opportunity: even if Lars didn't take the training seriously, he himself certainly would. He'd effectively been given the freedom to beat that irritating smirk off of Lars's smug face.
"Good morning, Ludwig. It's nice seeing you again."
"I'm not here to chat," Ludwig snapped, assuming a defensive stance and bringing his fists up. He had nothing to wrap his hands in, but he'd worn a weathered black shirt and his older pair of trousers so that he wouldn't feel too upset when something inevitably ripped.
"Or do you not know how to spar with someone?" he couldn't resist taunting slightly, wondering if the high-class cadet standing across from him had even taken a punch before. This could be interesting.
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Post by NancyGeors on Aug 12, 2020 6:53:19 GMT
NECESITAMOS UN ALMACÉN - ELITECRAFT 2 - Directo 19
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Post by NancyGeors on Aug 13, 2020 2:18:53 GMT
HOME IS WHERE THE POOL IS #281 By Nienke Plas
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Post by NancyGeors on Aug 13, 2020 22:14:51 GMT
सिर्फ 2बूँद तेल में 3चीज़ो से सुबह का हल्का फुल्का बेहद टेस्टी नश्ता इंस्टेंट चटनी के सथ 10Min Nashta
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♣ Welcome
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♣ Updates
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Hey guys! The Activity Check from November 2nd to November 14th is now officially CLOSED!
Also, the Military Police Ball Event is now up in the Events Section. Come to the Military Police Headquarters to dance with a date or unwind with some good ol' fashioned alcohol. The event lasts all through the month of November!
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♣Awards
Humanity's Hero: This honor is bestowed upon the soldier that has not only demonstrated impressive physical capability but has also proven themselves capable of great leadership and determination.
Most Courageous: This title is awarded to the soldier that has demonstrated true sacrifice and bravery.
Most Cowardly: This unfortunate title is given to the soldier whose fear has conquered their control over a situation.
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