#aendeious

@aendeious: looks like we're stuck here.

a single flickering bulb illuminated the long corridor before them. the air held a near rancid smell and the tap tap tap of a water pipe leaking echoed in the darkness that the single source of light failed to penetrate. aside from the water, everything else remained eerily quiet. even when mikasa spoke, it almost sounded like a whisper.

but they weren't in a domain. at least not to nanami's knowledge.

the heavy steel door behind them had suddenly slammed shut just a few seconds before she had spoken, but that didn't mean they were completely stuck there. enough brute force and even the door would budge at some point — but leaving wasn't on his mind at the moment. he was there to identify and destroy whatever cursed spirit lingered if possible.

“  she stood before him, broken. uncontainable. her hands could no longer hold up the pieces of herself she’d been trying for years. eren’s gone by her own doing. the other’s gone, and they stood only ones left after such a fight. “ what now... ” she asked, scared. crying like a child still even now an adult.  ”           @aendeious​.

THE  WAY  THAT  SHE  LOOKS  AT  HIM  is so  lost.     it’s an expression that he’s seen many recruits sport in his time with the corps,  FAR  TOO  MANY  recently for his liking.     that solitary storm—colored eye flickers from her pained face   (  he can’t stand looking into her,  not when she mirrors his past so closely  )   as a nearly imperceptible sigh drifts from his stitched lips.

WHAT  NOW?     it’s as innocuous a question as has ever been posed to him,  but in truth?     levi ackerman has  no  idea  how to answer her.

in that moment,  beneath that ashen sky,  the tension of a lifetime of fighting to survive seems to slowly begin to bleed from his muscles.     CONVERSELY,   a new weight settles over his shoulders to take the place of that old discomfort :    the weight of the dead.

“  ... we go home,  ”     he simply replies,  shifting his weight off of his aching leg,  trying to maintain an image that he is unaffected by all that has happened around them.     “  we go home as survivors,  & we go home  TOGETHER.  ”

 ❝  oh,  you  really  didn’t  have  to  get  me  anything!  “  was  his  response,  restraining  the  urge  to  gasp  extremely  dramatically  with  delight  in  the  process.  he  settled  on  a  beam,  before  his  cranium  dipped  into  what  he  hoped  was  a  solemn  nod  prior  to  taking  hold  of  the  offering.

 opening  the  box,  the  shawl  came  into  sight,  and  it  was  probably  the  nicest  shade  of  teal  he’d  ever  seen  –  really,  he  thinks  teal  might  have  just  become  his  favourite  colour.  ❝  this  .  .  .  this  is  perfect!  ❞

 a  hand  welcomed  the  warmth  of  the  fabric,  bundling  it  up  in  his  grasp  with  adoration  swimming  in  mocha  hues.

 ❝  kugisaki  borrowed  my  scarf  and  tokyo’s  been  so  cold!  thank  you  so  much,  mikasa–senpai.  say,  you  didn’t  read  my  mind,  right?  ❞

between  her  forefinger  &  thumb,  shoko  pinches  the  girl’s  wrist  —  a  delicate  hold  &  absent.  she  turns  mikasa’s  arm  in  her  hold,  examines  all  directions.  absently,  she  sucks  in  the  wall  of  her  cheek.  absently,  she  first  considers:

patterns  of  mobility,  bruising,  musculature.

she  second  considers  scar  tissue:  previous  injury,  old  trials  the  body  has  since  decided  to  forgive.

&  then  she  sighs  a  downwards  hum;  she  leans  back  &  releases  mikasa’s  arm,  folds  her  arms  over  her  chest.

‘  just  your  upper  arm.  thank  you  for  your  diagnosis,  doctor  -  ‘

her  lips  spasms  upwards  briefly.  only  briefly.

she  rarely  asks  that  people  call  her  by  her  earned  title  (  ‘  doctor  ‘  )  —  the  pedantry  bores  her,  so  she  can’t  be  bothered.

she  rarely  asks  that  people  call  her  doctor, but  still  —-  she  finds  that  she  has  developed  an  aversion  to  her  peers’  (  &  students,  she  supposes  )  making  assumptions  about  their  own  well  being.

‘  curses  sometimes  spread  like  poison.  their  damage  is  harder  to  confine  or  predict  than  the  damage  from  a  fall  or  an  accident.  it’s  good  that  you’re  here.  ‘

&  she  doesn’t  catastrophize.  the  injury  is  mild;  mikasa  is  correct.  so  far  the  injury  is  contained  to  mikasa’s  upper  arm.  the  healing  will  take  a  short  amount  of  time.

but  assumptions  about  well-being  turns  in  dangerous  territory.  sometimes  they  turn  into  apologies  for  injury,  apologies  for  casualty.

shoko  clicks  her  tongue  &  presses  her  fingers  to  mikasa’s  upper  arm.

it’s  an  easy  fix.

still,  when  she  heals  —  with  the  way  that  shoko’s  energy  works  —  it’s  impossible  not  to  notice  all  that

scar  tissue.

surviving:  it's  an  awkward  position  to  be  in.

bertolt  is  coward,  he  is  coward,  he  is  coward.  he  likes  living  too  much  to  know  what  to  do  with  any  kind  of  loss,  even  when  it's  not  his  loss.  his  cowardice  had  been  a  prominent  factor  when  he  kicked  down  the  walls  of  maria.  as  colossal,  he  watched  devils'  lives  turn  into  ants.  he  kicked  down  the  walls  &  then  he  made  himself  a  nuisance,  bending  at  his  knee  &  almost  inviting  surrender  by  making  a  too-quick  escape  from  his  titan.  what's  done  is  done.  it’s  so  awfully  embarrassing  to  have  almost  died.

surviving:  it’s  an  awkward  position  to  be  in.

he  kept  making  it  worse.  blending  his  composure  into  something  invisible  &  negligible  —  he  was  good  at  that  part.  he  was  bad  at  being  useful.  reiner  took  over  leadership  &  frayed.  annie  heaped  work  upon  herself  &  simmered.  bertolt  took  advantage  of  it,  he  admits.  it  was  easier  doing  as  little  as  he  could.  he  didn’t  believe  in  the  cause,  anyway.  he  wasn’t  even  sure  if  he  believed  in  the  reward,  back  at  marley.

regardless,  they  blended  too  well  with  the  104.  they  blended  too  well  in  the  scouts.

then  shinganshina.  it’s  so  awfully  embarrassing  to  have  almost  died.  &  worse  than  that  —

surviving  :  it's  an  awkward  position  to  be  in.

reiner  had  been  all  but  obliterated  by  the  time  that  bertolt  had  been  launched  in  a  barrel,  had  been  weaponized  as  a  bomb.  reiner  had  been  all  but  obliterated  when  bertolt  made  an  arbitrary  decision  &  rooted  around  to  buy  time.  it  had  been  easier  than  he  expected  -  so  maybe  he  was  too  confident,  too  honest  work.  maybe  he  just  waited  a  little  too  long  to  blow  everything  to  pieces.

he  paid  for  his  hesitation.  he  had  been  quartered  sliced,  prepared  to  be  eaten  in  a  way  that  was  much  harder  to  process  than  it  had  been  for  those  back  in  liberio  —  there,  the  inheritance  process  was  all  ritual  &  propaganda  &  ceremony. 

before  almost  dying,  he  knows  he  screame  .  he  also  knows  that  it  meant  nothing.

surviving:  it's  an  awkward  position  to  be  in.

before  colossal  could  be  inherited,  the  syringe  of  titan  serum  had  shattered.  it  was  some  sort  of  self-inflicted  ruin.  later,  he  hears  that  the  thing  had  shattered  in  the  midst  of  a  civil  war  that  the  ackermans  had  waged  between  themselves  -  the  product  of  the  suicide  charge  by  the  commander  &  the  burns  that  arlert  suffered.

he  does  regret  that  arlert  had  died.  he  does.  he  doesn’t  regret  it  enough  to  think  that  he  would  have  changed  the  outcome.  in  shigashina,  bertolt  had  learned  around  then  how  to  think  of  people  fondly  &  still  be  the  destroyer.

because  the  syringe  of  titan  serum  shattered,  bertolt  survived.  he  became  a  captive,  but  he  survived.  for  a  while  he  survived  with  the  thunderspear  pressed  against  his  nape  at  every  hour  of  the  day.  &  then  it  had  been  he  had  survived  under  close  guard  (sometimes  of  ackermans  with  the  spears).  it  had  all  been  useless.  the  longer  that  he  is  wasted  in  paradis  as  a  prisoner,  the  less  guarantee  there  is  that  marley  remembers  him  as  an  asset.

surviving:  it’s  an  awkward  position  to  be  in.it’s  damning.

with  all  cards  laid  out  on  the  table,  bertolt  had  given  pieces  of  allegiance  to  paradis  anew.  as  captive.  as  colossus.  as  traitor  or  whatever.  he’s  not  trusted,  but  he  settles  into  his  treachery.  dreaming  of  the  hanging  man  again  &  the  way  that  he  had  asked  to  be  judged.

he’s  still  under  guard.  he’s  still  confined  to  a  cell.  mikasa  watches  him  today.  she  doesn’t  have  a  thunderspear  at  least.  bertolt  watches  her  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  &  knows  how  deeply  she  hates  him  &  his  survival.

she  breaks  the  silence.  i  bet  you  sleep  so  well,  she  says.  it  feels  like  an  impulsive  statement  from  her.

bertolt  averts  his  gaze.  absently,  he  remembers  shared  cups  of  tea  &  talking  about  farming.  that  had  been  a  little  pleasant  &  a  little  awful.  absently,  he  settles  into  his  treachery  &  deadpan  announcing:  '  i'm  sleeping  like  a  baby.  '

&  he  is.  because  he  always  does.  he  turns  yoga  poses  &  tarot  poses  in  his  sleep,  &  he  sleeps  deeply.  it  never  gives  him  any  rest,  but  he  sleeps.  ‘  so  —  what  ?  you  going  to  let  me  nap  ?  ‘

he  can  play  this  role  of  villain  if  he  has  to.  someone  probably  has  to.

looking up from cleaning his blade, her question makes him blink. does it catch him off guard? no. has he thought about death before? yes, many times, actually. he would be lying to himself, and everyone, had he said no. he remembers it vividly, the day when the thought crossed his mind for the first time. at the age of thirteen, two months after his banishment, two months into an unachievable quest. a quest his great-grandfather and grandfather was unsuccessful in. that's when he'd asked himself the question for the first time : 'what can possible be worse than death?'

" i don't know. " he says, blade now clean and the sun's rays bouncing on it. putting it away, zuko takes out the other one, showing it the same kindness. he's evading the question, so unlike him to do, so unlike his nature. he does know the answer to it. it is clear as day, and wherever he goes and whatever he does, he sees that answer infront of him. it's hard to escape it.

to not belong, to be on his own out here in this world. did he pave that path for himself, or was it paved for him? probably both, he never tried to stop it. he kept going on this ready-made path, not knowing who or what he is. and on this path, he betrayed the only one who defied all those labels that was put on him. it's as if he's on square one again, a never ending circle of trying to escape death. " maybe that's something you will find out for yourself. "