[ The touch of his hands grounds her a little, dragging her back to the present. Her head lifts up to look at Jean again, and she hates the empathy she sees in him, bristling around the edges. That way he has of understanding people, of trying to see through their eyes.
It isn’t something she can do. Mikasa accepting being a soldier, being the one to carry the blade, to fight. To protect the people closest to her. And where did it get her?
Alone. Mourning. Prepared to watch the world change around her.
She has to force herself to breathe out slowly. ]
We weren’t ready. He wasn’t ready. It wasn’t that long ago, Jean!
[ Weeks. When she closes her eyes, she can still smell the blood, hear the shaking of the earth, feel the weight of her blades in her hands. She can’t escape it. ]
no subject
It isn’t something she can do. Mikasa accepting being a soldier, being the one to carry the blade, to fight. To protect the people closest to her. And where did it get her?
Alone. Mourning. Prepared to watch the world change around her.
She has to force herself to breathe out slowly. ]
We weren’t ready. He wasn’t ready. It wasn’t that long ago, Jean!
[ Weeks. When she closes her eyes, she can still smell the blood, hear the shaking of the earth, feel the weight of her blades in her hands. She can’t escape it. ]