[ the sound of a high pitched woman's voice shrieks loudly from an open window of your average home, raging words such as "rascal! you peepin' tom! out! out out out!" and stumbling, so much stumbling and thunking until one young boy, no older that thirteen (hell, he might be slightly younger than that) jounces through the open window and into a neatly trimmed bush garden. getting out of there would reveal that the kid's clothes are completely drenched— having woken up inside a full bathtub and a woman that was old enough to be his mom just getting ready to step in when— that. happened. eyes wide with fright and flushed bright red up to the tip of his ears, falco calls out, bowing his head to avoid eye contact but highly determined about communication: ]
I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I— [ looking down at his shoes and soaked, squishy socks with each step back he made, his voice trails into quiet, wandering confusion that lasts and grows just as much as the puddle expanding beneath him. ] I don't know how . . .
[ not only that— it's cold. ]
ᴀsʜᴇs, ᴀsʜᴇs
option a: [ from the silence of the murky landscape you're trekking through— you hear a short but reverberating scream. speeding up a few paces will lead characters to a young child halfway covered in ash up to his hips, as if disappearing beneath quicksand. except this is much faster than quicksand, the only thing standing between getting sucked in is the slipping, weakening grip falco has trying to swipe at a sleek surface of nothing on the ground, beyond a desolate land with nothing to actually hold. and further gets dragged, across the surfaces he could reach and yelling something much akin to: help.
option b: [ maybe he's died a time or two, maybe it was all a nightmare in his head that he'd have to step over, but breathing heavily and observing the most of his last encounter has the child's eyes fixated and large on the ripples in the ash, a hand pressing firmly into is arm until steam begins to rise from the marks of teeth in his flesh. it's healing. the blood in the ashen pools, on the other hand, are what the ash sharks hover to and attract more, more, more ]
It's . . . It's blood, but— [ he's a smart kid, trained for it, but certainly he realizes: i can't do this alone. someone's shadow in a short distance catches falco's attention, and he may call out and wave over his head for their attention: ] E-excuse me? Be careful!!
falco grice (attack on titan)
ᴀsʜᴇs, ᴀsʜᴇs
ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ɢᴀᴍᴇ