MONSTER / MARTYR.

            The world is on fire,  burning   -   the scent of flesh being turned to ashes heavy throughout the night.  The black smoke lingers like a fog above their heads,  clings to whatever surface it touches.  She feels as though she’ll have to scrub her body raw later on to be free from the abhorrent stench;  she feels as though she’ll never be able to rid herself of it entirely even if she tries.   Later,  however,  has yet to come.  Perhaps later never will.   Instead she finds herself staring into an orange inferno,  close enough to feel the intensity of such heat wash over her with each crackle of wood and flickered flame.  It’s uncomfortable but she finds herself enraptured,  unable to step away.  As if the fire was somehow cleansing her of nefarious sorrow.

              She has not looked away from the burning since it began,  and she hardly registers that she is nearly alone in the square.        Her eyes have grown tired,  tears she still wishes to shed pressed up against her lashes with the desire to fall free.     Annie reigns them back,  forces herself to shove her feelings into the darkest parts of her heart.  There is no time to cry,  no time to let herself become subjugated to such whimsical fancies.   This was her reality,  the hell she would live through.  The burdens she would bear like an anchor across her back.  As though she feels the weight of it,  her shoulders drop forward,  a weariness seeping through every muscle and tendon   -   deep into the marrow of her bones.

              The sudden weight of a hand upon her shoulder sends a jolt of lightening down her spine,  blue eyes swift to turn to the source of the shock.    She steps away,  out of reach of his venture of comfort,  see’s the way his face grows crestfallen by the distance she takes.        Annie feels the guilt grow.  She doesn’t mean to reject his offer of repose but the threads of her composure are already frayed thin.  She doesn’t believe herself strong enough keep hold of them for long,  least of all if he’s all but telling her it’s okay to let them go with the touch.  

              It is quiet between them for a long moment,  the sun and the sky clashing in their eyes.  She is sure that he can see the tinge of red around her own,  mirrored nearly by his.  Both of them say more in the look they share than words can ever cover.     The fatigue is overwhelming,  the strain caused by what they carry.  The dwindling flames at their side is only a milestone in the long road of their strife.     Another stone to add to the pile that began as one and has now grown a mountain high.  Her eyes search for Bertholdt,  stood just behind Reiner and he looks just as grim as the two of them.  None of them are okay with this,  none of them can say that out loud.

              When Reiner speaks her gaze turns back to him,  an ache in her chest blossoming out to the very tips of her fingers.  He has made a lot of promises since this all began,  he has kept to them the best he can.  It brings a sense of solace,  a sense of pain.  There is already so much he has taken on,  so many different things he tries to balance across broad shoulders.  One day,  she fears,  he’ll be crushed beneath the weight of it all.  Selfishly,  she does not deter him from exhausting out.  Whether she let’s him know or not,  he’s become something solid to lean against   -   a wall against her back to keep her upright when she feels like dropping to her knees.  Without it,  him,  she doesn’t know if she’d still be standing. 

           ❛  …   Marco won’t be the only one.  ❜     Annie has to look away as the words come from her mouth of their own accord,  can’t bear to see the expression on either one of their faces.  It doesn’t matter what they do,  how they change.  In the end,  everything will end up the same.  People will die.  They will be the only ones to blame.  It is what she has come to accept,  it is what she believes they should too.   There is no escape.  

I love the liner brown

             The moon hangs heavy in the dark sky,  wide shadows cast along the buildings as she makes her way back to her barracks.  Tonight has proved as fruitless as the last and a sense of frustration has blossomed.  It is not as if she expected all of this to be easy  -  far from it.    Yet as time drags on the end goal seems that much further out of her reach.  It makes the significance of completing the mission,  sooner rather than later,  even more important than before.  There is a forlorn yearning deep inside of her that cannot be sated,  a drive that keeps her legs moving even when exhaustion makes her want to collapse.  

             Tonight is one of those nights ;  she knows by the way her feet nearly drag along in the dirt as she walks.  It is difficult to find it in herself to care either.      By tomorrow her tracks will have been trampled,  the evidence erased from everywhere except her eyes.  Her shoulders drop further forward.  The wariness has grown familiar now,  as if a new companion.  The weight of it threatens to consume her,  to snuff her out beneath it at times.  She perseveres in spite of this,  reaches into the cavernous bleeding hole in her chest to pull out what resilience she has left.

              Annie spots movement in the distance and presses herself flat against the nearest wall,  careful to keep to the darkest part of the shadows as they move into better view…     Relief washes through her first,  then skepticism at the sight of him.  Was this a simple coincidence or was he purposefully trying to find her?  She considers the two thoughts a moment longer before deciding either way it was probably wise to speak with him.  She hadn’t had the opportunity to do so with neither Reiner or Bertholdt over the last few days.  Perhaps it was better now while there was a chance to not waste it.

             He turns a corner while she’s still in hiding,  and out of her line of sight.  She takes that as her initiative to follow him until they’re somewhere more secluded to speak.  Even though the tiredness still lingers there is a faint rejuvenation with each step she now takes,  with more purpose than the ones before.  He rounds another corner and disappears behind a shack used for storage.  It’s perfectly isolated.  She quickens her pace,  follows only a few feet behind him as she rounds the corner in quiet pursuit.

             When she does she’s forced to stop short of walking into him,  head titled in order to properly meet his gaze as he looms closer than she’d expected.  Did he know all along that she had been following him or had he noticed only seconds ago?        She supposes either way the outcome was in her favor.  She ponders how best to start their conversation but ultimately chooses to give him the reigns to start ;  curios whether her suspicions are accurate or if they’re nothing more than trifle thoughts.  ❛  …  Were you looking for me?  ❜