[ the moment you realize that you’ve done something horrid only hits after, the flash of fright in armin’s eyes like a spear for eren when he realizes his tone. he’s never . . . been so aggressive, not ever since they lost their homes and mikasa had smacked him for going too far with his words— but they were children then and . . . he didn’t say anything that was enough to be foul, did he? there’s still body language and tone, and once the rage that rockets depletes from a near burst, eren begins to feel the afterwaves of remorse. yeah. this was exactly why talking wouldn’t garner results. only shocks from impact.
eren’s fingers rub briefly before awkwardly retreating back to his sides in a quick slump. eren didn’t know every detail of the future, but he knew pockets. whatever armin knew, eren didn’t know exactly when but had a feeling. ymir was free, the rumbling, odiha, that marvelous sight. ]
You’re not. [ it comes out in an exhale held for longer than needed, his hands sniping his fedora right off his head as he combed through his hair, anxiously, with his free hand. but, fuck, what else is he supposed to say about all of this? this armin is from after the rumbling— no, it’s still happening. ] It’s . . . Not your fault.
[ he doesn’t know— nothing they say will change anything. he doesn’t know, but—
something still tugs in his chest. maybe it’s missing . . . everything, but it’s been so far away he’d just keep drifting farther. ]
I think it was supposed to happen. From the start. Nothing we did changed it. Even now, [ he gestures, but undeniably crestfallen, ] you’re proof.
( none of that is true, Armin thinks. he is useless. if he hadn't convinced the others to fight, Eren and Zeke were more likely to die, unsuccessful. is their future already ordained? he could kill Eren — his tongue or cheek, Eren wouldn't see, couldn't stop him, and whatever followed... wouldn't be the rumbling — but what would happen?
would the power of the titans return to their world? (he supposes this place is real.) (whenever the thought settled upon him.)
Armin feels so tired, ready to crawl into bed (or at least the plush seating here), but if he's already dead in their world, he can't waste this one.
after a moment, long, lifting his gaze, ) The Marleyans with us keep asking if we'll kill you. ( the emotion in Armin's eyes borders empty: no threat, no resolution, no hope. ) I promised our friends it's a last resort. After every avenue of dialogue is exhausted.
( maybe he can't. maybe that he can't means Eren is right. maybe... ) Maybe... We'll find another way in Noctium.
[ if eren knew himself, then they might as well, armin might as well accept it because no amount of dialogue would suffice once he started moving, but— that day with the serum was when eren too couldn’t stand the thought of having to let his friend die. he wonders, now, was this something that went through this armin’s mind right here? kill him?
it was truly as ghastly as he thought it’d be, but what protects his memories are heavenly clouds, and rationale haunts him at night when it’s too dark to parse them.
we’ll find another way in noctium. something in him still hoped somehow that, maybe it could be the case, but . . . until when and where was all of this concrete enough to confide in for an answer? time has squeezed every drip of hope from him as is. there’s nothing we can do is on his tongue, just about ready to fall from the tip. there’s no other way, you can’t have both, i’m sorry.
you’re wasting your time
forget about me, i’m not worth it
but eren inhales, holds his breath, and none of it comes out. ]
Yeah.
[ empty. he doesn’t want to extend an inevitably dead-ended argument. it’s bound to crop up again, and now that he knows that armin knows . . . it probably won’t be the last he hears of this. he doesn’t know how he’ll react next time.
but right now his stomach is dropping so low into his gut that it burns. he too, is probably scalding from the surface, only made apparent when his ears, neck and knuckles were bright lobster red. looking too close toward the window, as aimless as his gaze was, made it fog up in front of him; he doesn’t seem to mind that he can’t see beyond the misty blotch. it wasn’t as if he was looking at anything, at most, armin’s reflection, one that quickly became a blur of blond hair. ]
I promised the same thing to myself.
[ that it was the last resort. god how he wished things could be different. that he could be apt to having a different conversation here. that they could be smiling and laughing even though he was hollow inside himself. they filled up the cracks with something to look forward to, at least. at least . . . it’s what made him go through with the rest, and keep going, and keep going.
no matter how much time they’ve spent together in the past, eren feels like an alienated stranger. it’s so fucking stupid but he can’t even look armin in the eye now. it’s hard to face him— ]
I know you’ll pull through when you have to.
[ whatever it was— even if it wasn’t something armin wanted. ]
( where Eren can't face Armin, Armin watches, his gaze only faltering as they come to the final impasse: I promised the same thing. for another moment, long and silent, Armin simply stands beside Eren, eyes on the floor.
a deep breath through his nose. devoid of any highstrung emotion, Armin's thoughts are clear enough to reason Eren likely hasn't used his titan. Armin shifts the weight in his hips, reaching for the crook of Eren's arm — a light grip — testing the new boundary between them. )
Let's find the infirmary. ( tentative, Armin lifts his gaze, empty... but searching Eren's. ) You're running some kind of fever.
[ and— he’s still here. part of eren asks why he’s still here if he knows all about it.
there’s no doubt, from the bottom of his heart, that eren wishes for them to feel that again. wishes that he could sit across armin as the wide eyed kid being told he could dream. the dreams are fake (or not? he still saw it— but the cost—). he really wishes they could be happy, even if he wasn’t going to be a part of it anymore. he wishes for armin back, as much as something in him wants to recoil at his guiding touch and at the same damn time allow them both the proximity they’ve always had before he drifted. it makes him feel all the more monstrous. selfish mountain of shit. he’s scorching to the touch. at any moment he could fume— but he doesn’t. at most, the surface of his red skin beginning to fracture sizzles into a decline.
it’s for that very reason, while eren’s eyes cast downward to his feet and after much deliberation, let his fingers hang on armin’s sleeve, that the ruby stone tucked beneath his collar glows an accumulating blood red, illuminates his chin and the rest of his face from below to cast shadows— unseen gates click, arrange and open to a flood of what might better be described as dewy, enjoyable even, if not for the braids of guilt and sadness that would come with a profound i’m sorry. he doesn’t know he’s allowed synchrony until it’s too late. ]
( Armin's interest piques: the first glimmer of light, curious. that this is synchrony is a quick realization.
a sense of warmth, contentment, indescribable rightness, rushing Armin like a summer's day wave. his fingers curl, tight against Eren's arm — tight, tighter, a self loathing Armin might think belongs to him if not for the guilt, the longing, something insurmountable and terrible. Armin is not aware of his own tears until his vision blurs.
low, he jerks his head, eyes closed, a hint of his own self loathing (overwhelmed) (pathetic). Armin considers only a moment... then, leans into Eren, arms about him, fingers rumpling his suit jacket. against the impossible heat of his body, Armin flushes, humid in his own clothes; the stinging needles of pain, reminders of another life: Trost, Stohess, he had always been so afraid Eren would run too far ahead, to places he couldn't follow. when had he stopped?
through the white of Armin's button front, the sapphire glows, a deep, dark ocean blue. )
[ it feels . . . even. as the pillows of gladness twist with ugliness, eren realizes more and more, along with the gleam of blue as deep as the sea that bounces off his to form shades of purple was that— this was synchrony. this tasteful thing that made him hold his friend in turn by the sleeve and gawk at the light pooling under the blond’s shirt, then his eyes, then, inwardly, at something so featherlight he felt like he was on clouds with him.
he was aware that he was crying, or starting to, before he met the flush in his friend’s cheeks or his eyes to see, and not long after, if not immediately, the base of eren’s nose burns before his vision does. he’s aware of how useless armin feels but how much they— how much this—
a cleft of fright interrupts their connection that might as well make the experience a disappointment for halting so soon. a part of him hadn’t wanted to, but another did: one that rose too much internal conflict. he was just hurting armin and he was going to hurt him more some ways in the future— look at him. it breaks, eren’s breathing escalates only through his nostrils, but it might be clear, even as he’s steadying armin and trying to read through the dip of his head: he’s afraid to let it go any further.
was proximity the answer? he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to say no outright. it’s— confusing, but any inviting warmth in his belly had cooled, and with the light of his gem fading came the expansion of a wasteland in his gut. he didn’t want to feel this way, but what was the right choice? ]
I don’t know . . .
[ he trails off easily. because he doesn’t know what the right thing to do here should be. he just had to hold off the tears, which, might not be falling, but they’re glazing eren’s eyes. ]
( a shadow of another emotion, lurching sharp. Armin is left cold, empty and limb-heavy, soul deep in a sudden void. shocked almost bodily, he gasps against Eren.
had he said something aloud? Armin burrows his face even lower — I don't know, either! screamt through his core as though drowning — distantly aware the new stretch of skin pressing against Eren is less tight, less painful, the way parts of his arms, long strips of his belly and thighs are. Armin sobs, hard, mouth open, shoulders shaking, lungs hitching. ) Eren...
( even this hot, Armin prickles gooseflesh, something tense in the air, Eren or his own sudden fear. tears distort Armin's voice. ) Please... Don't leave! ( the possibility terrifies him more than anything Eren has done. will do. )
[ he can’t feel it anymore like he did when they still glowed, but he didn’t have to, to feel the wrenching pain in armin’s words. for a second eren’s eyes search for an answer before his midsection is squeezed and wetness expands from dots on his shirt to circles. he still doesn’t know what to do and their short lived synchrony isn’t coming back so soon. oh, fuck— ]
Stop— stop crying, [ eren finally decides, but lacking much demand in his voice as he offered some sort of peace that he had assumed fake at first, but, ] I’m not— [ his swallow strains, audible, and his eyes have gone some ways pink where they should be white. they sting— ] going anywhere right now.
[ to their dismay or not, whether that would be comfort or not. his last ditch effort is to wrangle armin’s body into his by a firm wrap around the shoulders. their gems don’t glow, he was still afraid. but as always— he held steadfast to not showing it. eren has always had bravado, even when stuck in a hopeless ditch. ]
( Armin presses his lips into a barely held line: nods, once or twice, the way one only can when their tears become too much.
let's just go.
another nod. a breath that almost hiccups. a long moment between then and the slow unfurling of Armin's posture. he extricates himself from Eren — not at all — only enough to straighten, arm round the small of Eren's back. Eren's about his shoulders had felt good, something right feeling and warm synchrony can't simulate.
sniffing, Armin blots his face, using the inside of his forearm, irritating the slight burns there and against his cheek (likely not yet obvious for the splotchy flush brought on by so many tears). in that, Armin is not self conscious: Eren has watched him cry more times than either can count (that he cares is so constant as to be unconscious), but the emotion is raw and mournful, least of all for a moment of synchrony.
hesitant, Armin lifts his gaze, not yet ready to say or do anything. )
[ this was about to be one of the most silent, awkward walks they've made side by side as eren started first, on arm slung over the blond's shoulders and vaguely aware of the pressure on his lower back. gradually, eren mentally wasn't as near as his gesture and words had sought to be. his thoughts make him drift far and go through the motions of walking rather than living each step, to the point where he wasn't paying attention to where they were going. just— walking. maybe it'll lead to the embassy. maybe the wild metropolis. there was too much to think about, and armin from a future as a ghastly as he knows hadn't eased or halted eren's muted descent into hell.
without looking at him, and, eventually, eren speaks up, but only after a good five to ten minutes in quiet. ]
Your's is blue.
[ the thought made verbal was broken in delivery— it started about halfway after eren was thinking of it in full. an observation of his glowing gem under his button down, but a clue to what he was thinking of before, maybe. there were a lot of things that could come from it, but eren doesn't make it known.
it was ironic. blue, like the sea armin had dreamed of and where eren's ceased and only saw a vast horizon of red. did that mean there was more to these gems? ]
( a soft "mm" of acknowledgement. in a better, less gloomy mood, Armin might flush: self aware and self conscious some god — or at least its representative jewel — of water and virtue would bond to him. Armin watches the floor before their feet. )
I think your temperature is because of yours. ( and if Eren's fever had since lowered... probably, sapphire has a calming effect. (or...) too soon. too raw. Armin is, still, collecting his thoughts, making sense of his first impression of synchrony.
how, or perhaps who, had initiated the moment, he can't say. but he knows who had ended it, and he knows he doesn't quite mind: the synchrony, pleasant, yes, but dark and overwhelming, perhaps for the sort of people, the sort of monsters, he and Eren are. )
[ better this at the moment than not, or something else, those things that he'd left behind. eventually, eren's arm slips from its branch on armin's shoulders to hang loosely at his sides. ]
Have you tried using it?
[ he vaguely remembers the scientists in their banter of information that eren would have to gradually wrap his head around rather than immediately. the pauses in between are still pregnant, eren nearly didn't even ask another question— but the awkward attempts are still there. ]
( that, Armin minds a little, a slight sag in his shoulders. his arm likewise falls to his side. )
Not on purpose. Those scientists said I can heal people, but... ( a turn of Armin's head. he examines Eren. ) You, still, look kind of red. Whatever's helping your fever must be passive. They said our gems need a certain kind of energy to use their powers.
( is this something Eren had or hadn't heard after his own arrival? the moment takes a familiar beat. )
[ heal people . . . eren could only dwell on it for a moment before armin would begin to consider his silence as ignorance. eren was a chronic spacer when there were more important things on his mind, though— he vaguely remembers a thing or two, and uses what would make the most sense. ]
Synchrony, right?
[ wrong. well, almost. he wasn't listening intently enough to distinguish the process and the actual energy. ]
( to that, Armin is silent; his expression, as contemplative as it is sorry. he had intended to avoid the subject. )
About that... ( Armin's pace rolls to a stop. hesitating again, he meets Eren's gaze... but falters after a particular point. kind of weird. ) It's okay... Ours wasn't very long. It was kind of weird, so...
( so?
after another pause, Armin begins walking. as though to leave the subject behind. ) We don't know what kind of world Noctium is, anyway. We might not need to use our gem powers. But if we do... We, still, have the Attack and Colossus.
( although Armin is yet to allow his body to heal, the mildest of burns born from Eren's fever. )
[ yeah. weird. or maybe it was just a failure not worth churning— it wasn't as if eren was going to want to try it again any time soon, neither did the feelings bring him comfort.
he and armin have done this plenty of times, walking around the uncomfortable elephant in the room, so. it's not as if he's expectant to see it change any time soon (it wouldn't change, any time soon). even if eren prefers it that way, given the circumstance, it makes him feel distant, all the same, as much as he begins to look the part.
he's walking with, his manna has depleted to bring down the fever, their earlier synchrony produced little to nothing and a heaviness of using it on and off, unintentionally, begins to set in. ]
At least we have options, [ a loose shrug, ] for now. As long as we figure out how to get back to where we need to be.
Armin can only guess where, or what, that is for him. (but if his death is uncertain... can he, still, stop Eren at fort salta? can the future change?) the where that Eren wants to go... Armin can't possibly allow him to do that. after a minute pause, however, ) Yeah... ( is all Armin says in reply, something a little resolute between the lines of misery and exhaustion.
with nothing else said, silence overtakes the two and wherever they might go. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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eren’s fingers rub briefly before awkwardly retreating back to his sides in a quick slump. eren didn’t know every detail of the future, but he knew pockets. whatever armin knew, eren didn’t know exactly when but had a feeling. ymir was free, the rumbling, odiha, that marvelous sight. ]
You’re not. [ it comes out in an exhale held for longer than needed, his hands sniping his fedora right off his head as he combed through his hair, anxiously, with his free hand. but, fuck, what else is he supposed to say about all of this? this armin is from after the rumbling— no, it’s still happening. ] It’s . . . Not your fault.
[ he doesn’t know— nothing they say will change anything. he doesn’t know, but—
something still tugs in his chest. maybe it’s missing . . . everything, but it’s been so far away he’d just keep drifting farther. ]
I think it was supposed to happen. From the start. Nothing we did changed it. Even now, [ he gestures, but undeniably crestfallen, ] you’re proof.
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would the power of the titans return to their world? (he supposes this place is real.) (whenever the thought settled upon him.)
Armin feels so tired, ready to crawl into bed (or at least the plush seating here), but if he's already dead in their world, he can't waste this one.
after a moment, long, lifting his gaze, ) The Marleyans with us keep asking if we'll kill you. ( the emotion in Armin's eyes borders empty: no threat, no resolution, no hope. ) I promised our friends it's a last resort. After every avenue of dialogue is exhausted.
( maybe he can't. maybe that he can't means Eren is right. maybe... ) Maybe... We'll find another way in Noctium.
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it was truly as ghastly as he thought it’d be, but what protects his memories are heavenly clouds, and rationale haunts him at night when it’s too dark to parse them.
we’ll find another way in noctium. something in him still hoped somehow that, maybe it could be the case, but . . . until when and where was all of this concrete enough to confide in for an answer? time has squeezed every drip of hope from him as is. there’s nothing we can do is on his tongue, just about ready to fall from the tip. there’s no other way, you can’t have both, i’m sorry.
you’re wasting your time
forget about me, i’m not worth it
but eren inhales, holds his breath, and none of it comes out. ]
Yeah.
[ empty. he doesn’t want to extend an inevitably dead-ended argument. it’s bound to crop up again, and now that he knows that armin knows . . . it probably won’t be the last he hears of this. he doesn’t know how he’ll react next time.
but right now his stomach is dropping so low into his gut that it burns. he too, is probably scalding from the surface, only made apparent when his ears, neck and knuckles were bright lobster red. looking too close toward the window, as aimless as his gaze was, made it fog up in front of him; he doesn’t seem to mind that he can’t see beyond the misty blotch. it wasn’t as if he was looking at anything, at most, armin’s reflection, one that quickly became a blur of blond hair. ]
I promised the same thing to myself.
[ that it was the last resort. god how he wished things could be different. that he could be apt to having a different conversation here. that they could be smiling and laughing even though he was hollow inside himself. they filled up the cracks with something to look forward to, at least. at least . . . it’s what made him go through with the rest, and keep going, and keep going.
no matter how much time they’ve spent together in the past, eren feels like an alienated stranger. it’s so fucking stupid but he can’t even look armin in the eye now. it’s hard to face him— ]
I know you’ll pull through when you have to.
[ whatever it was— even if it wasn’t something armin wanted. ]
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a deep breath through his nose. devoid of any highstrung emotion, Armin's thoughts are clear enough to reason Eren likely hasn't used his titan. Armin shifts the weight in his hips, reaching for the crook of Eren's arm — a light grip — testing the new boundary between them. )
Let's find the infirmary. ( tentative, Armin lifts his gaze, empty... but searching Eren's. ) You're running some kind of fever.
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there’s no doubt, from the bottom of his heart, that eren wishes for them to feel that again. wishes that he could sit across armin as the wide eyed kid being told he could dream. the dreams are fake (or not? he still saw it— but the cost—). he really wishes they could be happy, even if he wasn’t going to be a part of it anymore. he wishes for armin back, as much as something in him wants to recoil at his guiding touch and at the same damn time allow them both the proximity they’ve always had before he drifted. it makes him feel all the more monstrous. selfish mountain of shit. he’s scorching to the touch. at any moment he could fume— but he doesn’t. at most, the surface of his red skin beginning to fracture sizzles into a decline.
it’s for that very reason, while eren’s eyes cast downward to his feet and after much deliberation, let his fingers hang on armin’s sleeve, that the ruby stone tucked beneath his collar glows an accumulating blood red, illuminates his chin and the rest of his face from below to cast shadows— unseen gates click, arrange and open to a flood of what might better be described as dewy, enjoyable even, if not for the braids of guilt and sadness that would come with a profound i’m sorry. he doesn’t know he’s allowed synchrony until it’s too late. ]
no subject
a sense of warmth, contentment, indescribable rightness, rushing Armin like a summer's day wave. his fingers curl, tight against Eren's arm — tight, tighter, a self loathing Armin might think belongs to him if not for the guilt, the longing, something insurmountable and terrible. Armin is not aware of his own tears until his vision blurs.
low, he jerks his head, eyes closed, a hint of his own self loathing (overwhelmed) (pathetic). Armin considers only a moment... then, leans into Eren, arms about him, fingers rumpling his suit jacket. against the impossible heat of his body, Armin flushes, humid in his own clothes; the stinging needles of pain, reminders of another life: Trost, Stohess, he had always been so afraid Eren would run too far ahead, to places he couldn't follow. when had he stopped?
through the white of Armin's button front, the sapphire glows, a deep, dark ocean blue. )
no subject
he was aware that he was crying, or starting to, before he met the flush in his friend’s cheeks or his eyes to see, and not long after, if not immediately, the base of eren’s nose burns before his vision does. he’s aware of how useless armin feels but how much they— how much this—
a cleft of fright interrupts their connection that might as well make the experience a disappointment for halting so soon. a part of him hadn’t wanted to, but another did: one that rose too much internal conflict. he was just hurting armin and he was going to hurt him more some ways in the future— look at him. it breaks, eren’s breathing escalates only through his nostrils, but it might be clear, even as he’s steadying armin and trying to read through the dip of his head: he’s afraid to let it go any further.
was proximity the answer? he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to say no outright. it’s— confusing, but any inviting warmth in his belly had cooled, and with the light of his gem fading came the expansion of a wasteland in his gut. he didn’t want to feel this way, but what was the right choice? ]
I don’t know . . .
[ he trails off easily. because he doesn’t know what the right thing to do here should be. he just had to hold off the tears, which, might not be falling, but they’re glazing eren’s eyes. ]
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had he said something aloud? Armin burrows his face even lower — I don't know, either! screamt through his core as though drowning — distantly aware the new stretch of skin pressing against Eren is less tight, less painful, the way parts of his arms, long strips of his belly and thighs are. Armin sobs, hard, mouth open, shoulders shaking, lungs hitching. ) Eren...
( even this hot, Armin prickles gooseflesh, something tense in the air, Eren or his own sudden fear. tears distort Armin's voice. ) Please... Don't leave! ( the possibility terrifies him more than anything Eren has done. will do. )
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Stop— stop crying, [ eren finally decides, but lacking much demand in his voice as he offered some sort of peace that he had assumed fake at first, but, ] I’m not— [ his swallow strains, audible, and his eyes have gone some ways pink where they should be white. they sting— ] going anywhere right now.
[ to their dismay or not, whether that would be comfort or not. his last ditch effort is to wrangle armin’s body into his by a firm wrap around the shoulders. their gems don’t glow, he was still afraid. but as always— he held steadfast to not showing it. eren has always had bravado, even when stuck in a hopeless ditch. ]
Let’s just go.
no subject
let's just go.
another nod. a breath that almost hiccups. a long moment between then and the slow unfurling of Armin's posture. he extricates himself from Eren — not at all — only enough to straighten, arm round the small of Eren's back. Eren's about his shoulders had felt good, something right feeling and warm synchrony can't simulate.
sniffing, Armin blots his face, using the inside of his forearm, irritating the slight burns there and against his cheek (likely not yet obvious for the splotchy flush brought on by so many tears). in that, Armin is not self conscious: Eren has watched him cry more times than either can count (that he cares is so constant as to be unconscious), but the emotion is raw and mournful, least of all for a moment of synchrony.
hesitant, Armin lifts his gaze, not yet ready to say or do anything. )
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without looking at him, and, eventually, eren speaks up, but only after a good five to ten minutes in quiet. ]
Your's is blue.
[ the thought made verbal was broken in delivery— it started about halfway after eren was thinking of it in full. an observation of his glowing gem under his button down, but a clue to what he was thinking of before, maybe. there were a lot of things that could come from it, but eren doesn't make it known.
it was ironic. blue, like the sea armin had dreamed of and where eren's ceased and only saw a vast horizon of red. did that mean there was more to these gems? ]
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I think your temperature is because of yours. ( and if Eren's fever had since lowered... probably, sapphire has a calming effect. (or...) too soon. too raw. Armin is, still, collecting his thoughts, making sense of his first impression of synchrony.
how, or perhaps who, had initiated the moment, he can't say. but he knows who had ended it, and he knows he doesn't quite mind: the synchrony, pleasant, yes, but dark and overwhelming, perhaps for the sort of people, the sort of monsters, he and Eren are. )
no subject
Have you tried using it?
[ he vaguely remembers the scientists in their banter of information that eren would have to gradually wrap his head around rather than immediately. the pauses in between are still pregnant, eren nearly didn't even ask another question— but the awkward attempts are still there. ]
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Not on purpose. Those scientists said I can heal people, but... ( a turn of Armin's head. he examines Eren. ) You, still, look kind of red. Whatever's helping your fever must be passive. They said our gems need a certain kind of energy to use their powers.
( is this something Eren had or hadn't heard after his own arrival? the moment takes a familiar beat. )
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Synchrony, right?
[ wrong. well, almost. he wasn't listening intently enough to distinguish the process and the actual energy. ]
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About that... ( Armin's pace rolls to a stop. hesitating again, he meets Eren's gaze... but falters after a particular point. kind of weird. ) It's okay... Ours wasn't very long. It was kind of weird, so...
( so?
after another pause, Armin begins walking. as though to leave the subject behind. ) We don't know what kind of world Noctium is, anyway. We might not need to use our gem powers. But if we do... We, still, have the Attack and Colossus.
( although Armin is yet to allow his body to heal, the mildest of burns born from Eren's fever. )
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he and armin have done this plenty of times, walking around the uncomfortable elephant in the room, so. it's not as if he's expectant to see it change any time soon (it wouldn't change, any time soon). even if eren prefers it that way, given the circumstance, it makes him feel distant, all the same, as much as he begins to look the part.
he's walking with, his manna has depleted to bring down the fever, their earlier synchrony produced little to nothing and a heaviness of using it on and off, unintentionally, begins to set in. ]
At least we have options, [ a loose shrug, ] for now. As long as we figure out how to get back to where we need to be.
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Armin can only guess where, or what, that is for him. (but if his death is uncertain... can he, still, stop Eren at fort salta? can the future change?) the where that Eren wants to go... Armin can't possibly allow him to do that. after a minute pause, however, ) Yeah... ( is all Armin says in reply, something a little resolute between the lines of misery and exhaustion.
with nothing else said, silence overtakes the two and wherever they might go. )