[ this is the first time he’s been here to actually come for something, expect a turn, or even a someone. perhaps arrivals, or . . . maybe more, he didn’t know. eren was drawn to his mirror and that was the only fact to it— a tall frame decorated with broken chains of brass, half skeletal faces and metal wings of freedom, of blades with odd handles, and now— a wooden crutch, bars, and copper bent enough to look like slabs of crystal, and a hammer.
he’s seen good, and he’s seen bad. he’s seen things to open his mind and make decisions to seal his fate clean. the first thing he remembers is being called to speak with yelena, and the last thing he remembers was gabi braun raising a high caliber rifle to him and bracing himself for what would happen next, equally scared to death that he wouldn’t make it to the outstretched hand of his brother. he’s stopped crying because of sasha. it was a strike through his heart that he already had to live fleetingly, but the hole and the liability still remain like stains. everything just came and went so quickly that now eren remains seated here, in front of his mirror in a hollow afterglow.
everything in between has been an eruption of feeling in a matter of seconds. he’s tried running through it earlier, tried fissuring the glass with his fists, kicks and grabs nearby props of iron decorating the other mirrors to hit it with and go home. now more than ever did he need to take those last few steps, maybe a dive, or hope the bullet wouldn’t take his consciousness so abruptly. his doesn’t budge. the only thing left was a barrier between him and his reflection, now.
none of this was about him. his tongue flicks. it all slips away as easily as the storm had come on his surface. he can taste elliot coming already, and with more focus put into it, what he should’ve done earlier— his bond goes mute. ]
september 1st
he’s seen good, and he’s seen bad. he’s seen things to open his mind and make decisions to seal his fate clean. the first thing he remembers is being called to speak with yelena, and the last thing he remembers was gabi braun raising a high caliber rifle to him and bracing himself for what would happen next, equally scared to death that he wouldn’t make it to the outstretched hand of his brother. he’s stopped crying because of sasha. it was a strike through his heart that he already had to live fleetingly, but the hole and the liability still remain like stains. everything just came and went so quickly that now eren remains seated here, in front of his mirror in a hollow afterglow.
everything in between has been an eruption of feeling in a matter of seconds. he’s tried running through it earlier, tried fissuring the glass with his fists, kicks and grabs nearby props of iron decorating the other mirrors to hit it with and go home. now more than ever did he need to take those last few steps, maybe a dive, or hope the bullet wouldn’t take his consciousness so abruptly. his doesn’t budge. the only thing left was a barrier between him and his reflection, now.
none of this was about him. his tongue flicks. it all slips away as easily as the storm had come on his surface. he can taste elliot coming already, and with more focus put into it, what he should’ve done earlier— his bond goes mute. ]