#mxgido

Pleasure.

Is there anything I can do for you?

Good day, my dames. May I help you?

And Who Might You Be

My name is Rose Lalonde and I greatly look forward to getting to know all of you personally. How are all of you tonight?

It was a strange memory, for sure. Dirt had never held any sort of importance to her. It had always been a common sight in the filth of the slums, and even more so on her skin on most days. Yet… once view shifted to beyond the walls, with trees and plants and life, that changed. It was when it began to rain a difference was made. From then, every time that the Earthy scent would reach her, she would be reminded of three things;First was her original home. The Underground, where years had been spent forming bonds with Levi and Farlan. Their cage and their sanctuary at the same time. Each alley was carefully engraved into her memory; misshapen stones and cracks that rose and fell no matter what part you were in. Stalagmites that hung from the ceiling, smelling exactly as this.Over six years spent moving from house to house, creating memories for each, but nevertheless remaining a family. Second was where she was now. Memory would give her glimpses of the Legion the past weeks. A new home, a sudden shift. Unfriendly at times, bearable at others. One named Zoe had become a friend, and one named Erwin had begun to disrupt their order of their trio. With this, she could recall bitter words said, tension high as their lives were on the line. A goal to kill squad leader Erwin Smith to get out of the Underground, become members of a society up above where the sun shined. Third. How everything fell apart. Memory fades with certain events, just as it would with age. Yet… this memory was painfully different. A horse falling, rain pouring and slapping them hard enough to sting. Yells that could not reach, a sense of hopelessness and more fear than she had ever felt in her entire life. Stomps that approached. The sight of trampled flowers between hooves and her comrade’s rolling body as he was thrown. Locking gear, mud covering clothes and face. Weightlessness, and then… nothing. Memory stops there.                                 { There was nothing else. }