献身的な

      Magnified eyes would gaze upon the wrecked corpses that sat scattered upon burning lands and broken rubble; features remained vacant of all emotion as the pine hued orbs swept through the remains of the valiant souls that had ventured outward at this time of desperate retaliation. Lips covered by a protecting facial mask; the required equipment, it seemed, when one would be searching amongst the dead for mementos of some kind. Soft breathes would collide with sterile sterling masking – an uncomfortable heating begging to swelter beneath the mask; gloved digits plucking at the edges, allowing for a short rush of air through to cleanse the warmth from her visage and a moment to clear her lenses of heated winds.

      In her embrace, there would rest the coat of her former leader; the man whom she would only replace – being the sole survivor would reap no such benefit when all that you knew had been stripped right from underneath you. Once more would there need to be an account taken of all the scattered corpses; and she would come to halt at the sight of youth, body torn by the ivory enamel of the towering Titans. Overcrossing swords would insinuate the rank that this boy had held – nothing more than a trainee fresh from the three year course they all had to endure. Hidden, peach tiers would allow for a gentle exhale to seep through coming into contact with the freely wavering cloth; shortened argent locks flowing freely with the carrying gusts of naturally occurring winds.

    “Such wasted youth..”

     Since the discovery of the deficiency in her sight, the appropriate corrective lenses were always needed to keep the view of the world to be a crystal like perfection. As she had come to age through the years; the same pair had been kept with her -- through each grueling day it had taken for her to achieve the rank in which she had achieved to this very day. Albeit, it had become apparent that said lenses were proving to be more of a handful than any challenge she had come to face on the field of combat. 

      Boot bearing feet would create a rapid rapping upon the upon cobble flooring; hurried movements would carry a lithe frame through the crowds of many onlookers. Argent locks would sway in correspondence with her crown's steadied pull due to the alteration of her feet to continue her advancement in the intended direction. She would not move to make room for those she passed, nor would she care for whomever decided to motion toward her. In her eyes, no other occasion would prove to hold more importance than this inquiry she had wished to make -- the altering of scenery from the serene to the hectic was proof of the high eminence. 

     Her decision, be it a decade in the past, was one that she had stood by. A plentiful expense of eccentrics had come to be held up in the Scouting Legion; and such people were much like the woman she had ventured out to meet with. Metallic frames would loosely rest upon porcelain features, flawless and free of blemishing; a constant struggle would be presented with said lightweight frames -- forever presenting themselves as a nuisance with their constant slip upon her sleek nose; to claim this recurrence as a mere nuisance would be an understatement of the true magnitude in which this had feat came  to annoy her. 

     Movement would come to a halt as the woman had been found; two digits, pressed together, would press unto the curved bridge of her nose, sliding upwards and having the lightweight frame of steel coming to rest upon a proper place of cartilage. Hushed grunts would come from the woman of silver; clearing her throat momentarily, moving forward and halting at the front of the fellow bespectacled woman. 

    “You are Hanji Zoe, correct?”