#spatzenn

Eden managed to hide her injury well. Like a wounded animal, teeth clenched behind a mouth pursed shut – she refused to show weakness. Most of her comrades thought nothing of the way she acted; she was the same as usual. Stone-faced and stoic, Eden was a good soldier.

It was easy to dodge her siblings; they were caught up in their own obligations. Eden had already accounted for avoiding them. Even so, even they could not always see through her hardened exterior; she knew them well enough to know how to hide from them in plain sight. There was really only one who managed to see through her – one she could not quite figure out. It was impossible to hide from him, somehow. And she felt his eyes burning through her the second they began their return.

With every step she had taken, her ankle had ached, pangs of pain shooting through her. If she were anyone but herself, she may have let out a cry. But Eden's teeth only clenched; her eyes watered only to be blinked away as she took a slightly imbalanced gait, undetectable by most.

But not by Levi.

No – it wasn't long before Levi was on her case. If it had been anyone else, Eden would have vehemently refused help, venom spewing from her lips. But Levi was immune to her venom. He brushed it off, told her to sit. And she listened. She wonders if she has been damned to listen to him.

And now, he sees through her. His eyes once more burn through her exterior as she lowers herself onto her cot. Eden doesn't bother hiding her injury from him – there's no point; he already knows. So, she sticks her leg out for him to inspect. Her ankle is swollen, likely not broken – but it is evident she can't keep walking on it. She'd be a liability. She'd be a burden. A wounded soldier was a useless soldier.

Her racing mind screeches to a halt at the sight of Levi kneeling down before her. It feels... wrong. Revered, admired – by no one more than her, her Captain sinks to the ground, eyes flitting up to look at her. She is almost tempted to get down to his level, but she can foresee the reprimand that would come with moving from her seat on the bed. So she remains, wincing as the adrenaline from the expedition wears off. Shit. It's worse than she thought.

And that is when he confirms perhaps the worst scenario of them all. He expects her to remain in bed. Ball and chain attached to that damned ankle as the world moves on around her. As he moves on without her.

As Levi stands, his determined gaze meets her fiery one. But underneath the fire is fear. Fear that their next expedition would be sooner than she could fully heal, that she would be bound to her cot while Levi brandished his swords without her. And with how quickly things were ramping up around them, it was a devastatingly possible scenario. And what would happen if she was needed on the field, if her Captain were to become injured or fall? She was his most capable. She needed to be out there. She couldn't live with herself if something were to happen to him.

“You trust me too much” Erwin pointed out, talking to Levi after the trial of Eren. Of course they had spoken about how they were going to win the boy from the Military Police, and with Hanji and Mike’s input they had all decided he wasn’t about to turn in the middle of discussing his fate. He had given Levi permission to prove he wasn’t scared of Eren, that they could beat him down, but this seemed a little much. 

Send me ‘ 🌪 ‘ to catch my muse in the middle of a violent breakdown. Throwing things, breaking things, yelling…

One might consider it a kind gesture – a merciful gesture, even. The removal of beds gone cold, freeing the space of the painful reminder of those she lost. But does this gesture accomplish such a thing? Does the removal of those four beds – the addition of a desk and chair – provide her with any sort of ease?

Objectively? The room is emptier than ever. It's bare, with her bed on one end and a workspace on the other. So why... why does it feel... full? Heavy? Eden clenches her fists; her eyes fixate on splintered wood, and she feels a rage bubble up within her.

That desk. That fucking desk.

If Josie was beside her in this moment, she'd tell Eden there are plenty of reasons they could've done this. Perhaps they needed the beds. Maybe they wanted you to feel more comfortable. They know you're not sleeping.

They. They. –– No. Eden knows who is behind this. It goes without saying; there is but one man who could arrange to have something done so quickly, so tactfully. It's as if he is commanding her through this new arrangement; one bed – she's alone now. She has to accept it. And a desk – get the hell back to work. Orders from her Commander, without a word uttered. Erwin Smith is a devil in the details.

Eden inhales sharply; boot-laden feet all but drag themselves across the room. The air is dense – ghosts whirl about her. They've once more grown in ranks. Faces loved and lost. They already begin to blur. She can already feel herself losing the way they looked – the way they sounded. They are shadows in broad daylight, once lounging on the beds that remained. But now?

All she has is this goddamn desk. 

She approaches it now, circling around, and she finally looks upon what the Commander had left for her. Pens. An inkwell. Notebooks. Candles. Matches. But her eyes focus on one item in particular. One item she'd held in her hands plenty of times, but always stored it under the pillow where it found its home: Eld's unfinished wood carving. Half a horse, never to be completed. It stands upright on the desk now, purposefully placed.

There's something about the way it is placed that infuriates her. As if whoever placed it took the time to position it beside the candelabra, to greet her when she sat down.

Eden bends down, fingers gripping the block of wood on the backend of the project. She holds it in her hand for a moment, staring down at it – and the rage bubbles up again. It rises now – it boils over – and...

❛ Fuck you! ❜ There's no one else in the room, yet Eden yells out, her hand sweeping across the desk and sending books and pens clattering to the floor. Her inkwell rolls off the desk, spilling out onto wood. She's cursing all the while, seeing red as her boot rises to kick her chair across the room.

Fuck him. He who tells her to get back to work without a word spoken – the Commander who forcefully ends her grieving. She, who has never taken time to grieve, having that taken from her too. It doesn't matter if he's right. Devil, puppeteer, he pulls the strings for all things – and he's forcing her hand now.

And she doesn't break down in defiance. She doesn't break down in a rejection of the gesture, the command. No – Eden breaks down, trashes the room that is now hers and only hers, because she knows this has to be the end of her grieving. This has to be the end of a thing so utterly human. She has to move on. Get back to work.

So this is it – her one last act of grief, and it burns like a fire within her. It burns as she shouts. It rages like a fire as she clutches the remaining piece of her friend in one hand; as the other reaches to grab the candelabra. She spins around, throwing it with force at the singular bed across the room.

And as it crashes – clatters to the floor, her door creaks open.

❛ Fuck off! ❜ She shouts before she can even register who comes through the threshold now. It's an instinct – she's a wounded animal; she can't be seen like this.

She can't be seen with such profound grief in her eyes, blinking away rage-filled tears as she clutches onto the carving for dear life. Her beating heart is in her hands.

But the door clicks shut – Captain Levi stands before her now.

Eden freezes. He's seen her right after the loss – the only one to see her tears – when they found comfort in each other's presence. But he looks now upon a wild animal, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she stands amidst the whirlwind of her rage, a wreckage of her grief.

Yet she doesn't say a word.

Her nostrils flare, her lip quivers – where a tear-filled gaze once avoided the Captain, her eyes now bore into his.

Fire, ice, rage in her heart. It's all out in the open now.

Two forces of nature, mythic, feared by the mightiest – they face each other now. Even a friendly spar seems charged. Levi maintains his stance, planted, his arms raised. And Eden prowls; feet pad the ground, she flashes claws as she opens and flexes her hands – and she closes them again. Her eyes study him, scanning every move of the muscle, every rise and fall of his chest. She knows he's studying her too. Calculating, predicting. The two read each other, and by this point have memorized each other – but that makes things all the more interesting, now doesn't it? The Captain and his second-in-command; they know each other by heart, which means they know how unpredictable the other can be.

The crowd that has formed around them murmurs. Recruits place their bets, vets mumble amongst themselves. Even they are intrigued.

❛ You're just gonna stand there? ❜ Eden calls out, fists raised. Is that a smirk behind those hands of hers? Those nicked, calloused hands. She's finding a thrill in this – a real challenge. ❛ Making me do all the work, as always. ❜

Playful taunt – and then... she's swift. Light on her feet, yet moving with purpose; every step is calculated, well-placed. She's at a distance, which means she's at the disadvantage. But she'll swing, duck at the last moment, aim low. She'll brace herself, dodge those knees of his that he will no doubt utilize.

Levi was interesting, he was amusing, something someone as curious as Hanji was just couldn't ignore. How he held himself, the air around him, how others would cower just at a simple glare from him. It was fascinating. He was fascinating.

Despite his claim, she had remembered what he told her about the maintenance of her gear, just this time she was rushing. He had her eyes in a hold with his, steel tones within them reminding her of the blades held by themselves. She held her ground, a playful smile on her lips when she saw him reaching for her. Even if he wasn't so quick, Hanji would have let him grab the strap, bringing her down to his level.

It had been long enough, seeing him on his own, his head hanging low when he thought no one could see him. In the view of public, he would scowl. If he was training, he was quick to do what was asked and then nothing more. She had tried a few times to strike conversation, to sit with him at the food hall, even to ride next to him on the latest mission.

All were met with him leaving, or finding a reason to move and be alone. Hanji watched him closely, she wanted to know more about him, but more so to check that he was okay. The two he came with, they had died, and if rumours serve, Levi had taken down a hoard of titans on his own. The power, the emotion needed to do that...

Hanji followed him one evening as he made his way to the roof but she was spotted, he had told her once more to quit following, but this time she would stand her ground. "Don't push me away again" she spoke, her hands up and palms out, "It matters" she nodded to his question, stepping forwards as she dropped her arms.

"It's a tough life here if you shut everyone out" Hanji spoke after a moment, taking a seat beside him, long fingers held his arm. The strength hidden inside, under pale and scarred skin, years of living underground, fighting for the basics... She was smart enough not to press to much, or even give too much advice, he had trusted her with his physical scars and that will do for tonight.