because i was born into this world

[usurpers]

Who: eren jaeger & you!
When: night of the 13th!
Where: --
What: dream a lil' dream event catch-all! those who would like a memory are welcomed to choose from the list i have here, just get in contact with me either through pm, plurk (liberos) or discord (owlie#3609), and i'll write you a starter like the ones below ♥!
Warnings: not only written content but visuals will be in the comments for major attack on titan spoilers, drinking, suicide ideation, violence, gore, cannibalism, mentions of rape, abuse, slavery, child prostitution, war and genocide. specific warnings for each will be in the headers!

[ when things start out as a dream, eren doesn't necessarily start it aware that it's a dream he walks in. his dragon form, a little smaller than an adult stag, doesn't question why or how he's ventured into the looking glass house— only that it called and compelled him with whispers he couldn't actually hear, hums and the ethereal glows beyond what the eyes could see, the same way it would when it was time for him to return to what was beyond that.

it doesn't take long to find his mirror; a plain one that stretches tall with a simple wooden frame to those who know little to nothing of eren jaeger. for those who know more, or even more will see the bone-shapes carved into the wood to resemble a spine. ribs seem to span into wings and copper chains hang from one of the corners, broken and snapped. the dragon, once staring at the reflective shine his eyes give into the mirror for long enough and catching his breath, dives into the ripple of this mirror's fake surface in hopes that it will return him to where he belongs, to where he needs to be. you too, may go after him, or perhaps the mirror, for one reason or another, calls you to venture and enter. or maybe you fall in? anything can happen in a dream. there's no one truly stopping you, and when you do, you fall into a vast pool of fractured events and voices.



you fall into a pool, and into one of many memories. ]

Comments

@leslie (cw: animal death)

[usurpers]

[ sometimes, gathering firewood in the outskirts of shinganshina brought about rare surprises. a smaller eren spots such one day, scurrying over to a snow white spot blustering helplessly on the ground. what’s that? the younger girl with him asks, peering into the thicket, and the boy with her adds in exclamation: it’s a bird!! it’s hurt!

indeed it was— a little bird that stuck out like a sore thumb, its wing bleeding and hanging off its side. it struggled tremendously to take off, too exhausted to try anything but stay still when the two children bound up to it and crouch. the firewood collection is forgotten. the younger eren cradles the special bird in his hands as it breathed quickly through its own panic, and ran as hastily as he could to an adult soldier in the city, to ask for his father. as soon as he’s gotten word that grisha was home, eren thanks him and runs. ]

Can you keep up?

[ the older, scalier mr. krüger asks this to leslie in a deep voice she could recognize, and would prefer she stick to him far more than wander about on her own. she could end up somewhere awful, and if she had to fall into any memories, he much preferred this one. she’s never seen his dragon form though, has she? a wyvernish beast that now takes the size of a pony— there was no need for him to be so large and intimidating. ]

[foundfamilies]

[ leslie is initially startled by the appearance of a dragon wandering around this dream (once again, she finds herself starting the dream off in a nightgown, though she has left the stuffed rabbit behind this time in favour of her weird shadow familiar swirling around in her normal shadow), but the moment she heard mr. krüger's voice, she ceased to be worried in the least. she adjusts super well to monsters.

she wonders if a lot happened during the full moon for mr. krüger. she has yet to actually see someone transform fully, spending most full moons indoors. she's read about it, but she thought they were exaggerating about everyday regular final forms.

and then that dragon with his voice suddenly squeezed through a mirror. with how little she knows of the real eren, it looked like any other mirror to her, so she decided to take a chance on it being like the mirror that brought her here and followed in after. now she's here, and it doesn't look like it's a place she recognizes. something about that boy seems familiar, though.....

she looks up at the question. ]

I'll do my best!

[ she doesn't know. she doesn't run much. ]

@elliot

[usurpers]

[ in the mouth of an alleyway, four boys stand: one smaller than the rest that circle him and his brilliant emerald eyes only biding fury. they whistle and kick at the dirt by his feet, but the younger one, eren, is unmoving. voices could be heard by now when drawn to this sight tucked away from adult supervision, especially little eren’s— small but never contained by his stature.

give it back! the younger demands gravely. the trio of bullies only chuckles, and the largest one he faces scoffs back and rolls his eyes, mocking and playing with his sternness. i told you, i can’t. ‘cause i already ate it.

the dragon only watches with his back facing the street, the end of his tail twitching back and forth and blocking most of the entranceway. it was a time that was simpler. it was innocent and he was ignorant and— eren honestly didn't know which was worse. the pang of nostalgia that hits him was something that was lost forever. it was still a time he could appreciate, anyway, even with his liberty taken so young. he had a family he could turn to. friends. mean boys to play with. ]

[fiddlestick]

[He'd come in here by accident, reaching out to touch something on Eren's mirror that seemed askew before falling into the memory itself. So he finds himself appearing right behind the dragon Eren]

Ah- Crap-

[He looks around to see the fighting going on among the children]

H-Hey- shouldn't we do something?

[He hasn't gotten the memo that he can't affect the memories]

@alex (cw: violence, death, mentions of child prostitution)

[usurpers]

[ a young boy and his father near a secluded cabin surrounded by pine, knocking on the door and waiting. she's your age, the man comments and suggests: make friends with her. eren, at nine and wrapped in a red scarf and black coat, retorts. i mean, depending on what she does . . . . his father continues to knock, staring at his son and with a troubled sigh says: eren, this is why you only have one friend.

no one answers. grisha calls out to them, strange that they weren't home when their check-up was made. he calls out as he opens the door himself, cautiously: hello? is anyone home? they were, but when the door croaks wide open, the light of day shined into the cabin: they weren't alive. a man and a woman were discarded in their own blood and the mess of their ransacked home hours earlier. grisha bolts to them to immediately check their pulses, and curses when he finds nothing. eren, his father asks gravely, was the girl around?

no. curt and severed from the scene of violence he's just stepped into. the father speaks out loud of the plan: he'll call the military police brigade and request a search party. eren, you wait at the base of the mountain. the boy says nothing, only staring, but— his stare is faraway. he doesn't look at the bodies. he doesn't show a touch of disturbance. only that he was far, and his mind premediating what he was going to do.

do you understand?

the boy nods, but he hardly heard an actual word. ]

[sing_for_me]

[ Alex stays behind the young boy and the man, her ears perking when she hears the name. Her focus is on the boy now, and sure enough...he does look a lot like the Eren that she knew. A smaller, cuter version. It made her all the more confused about the appearance of his mirror. Why..were there so many bones? What did that represent for Eren?

There seems to be a problem, whoever they were planning to meet not answering the door. As they enter, the familiar stench of iron hits her nose, and immediately her hand comes up to cover it. Two bodies lay on the floor, and while Eren's father (she assumes) goes to check on them, it's highly unlikely they were still alive. Her next instinct is to check on the young Eren, concerned about him seeing such a gruesome scene at this young an age---

But he was calmer. Too calm, in fact. Alex is stunned by the lack of reaction--and she wonders just where his eyes are looking. She looks around, in hopes she might be able to find out.

A girl..was he maybe thinking about her? Was she...but her body wasn't here. Did she manage to get away? Was it alright for Eren to just be left by the base of some mountain? ]

@paloma (cw: needles, gore, cannibalism)

[usurpers]

[ dipping into this memory leads paloma straight into a forest in the thick of night. the moon is obscured by dense clouds and the pink hue of fire lights, accompanied by the panicked rustle of civilization farther back. far farther back. a man walks deeper into the obscurity the trees provide, all while holding the hand of a sleepy child being led deeper and deeper into the thicket.

dad? the child asks while stifling a yawn and becoming more alert, a child too young to carry around swollen, baggy eyes with all the crying he’s done. closer inspection would reveal similarities the child has to one dragon: big blue eyes, a distinct facial structure. where’re we going?

eren’s father doesn’t answer, dread filling his downcast eyes and beginning to swell with tears. not too far back, the dragon escorts his guest from where she didn’t mean to come to, it seems. his talons rustle the scattered leaves fallen onto the woodland floor, and nothing changes. nothing should change. nothing needed to change. ]

There’s no way back if you keep going.

[ she’ll be stuck in the limits of what eren remembered, no going backward or forwards until it was done. a warning, merely, but it’s a touch detached with no signs of underlying, problematic feelings involving what came next. he’s too far gone to be affected, already. he’s long ago accepted what he did and why that was. ]

[gehennawind]

[ That full mouth presses into a tight line. Paloma does not like that there is a child here, who must be Eren, where the dread of something hideous on the horizon is a real, breathing monster. Bad things don't always happen under cover of darkness, but this obviously will.

She sucks her cheeks in and glares past the dragon, trying not to look as nauseous as she feels. ]

Do you want me to keep going?

@soren (cw: violence, gore, cannibalism)

[usurpers]

[ trost is in shambles. smoke rises to a mostly blue sky and brings with it a thick smell of uneasiness. massive bells ring an alarm for the abandoned, walled district, and from the houses left and right on fire or in ruins from fallen boulders, you'll see heads peeking out from the top of rooftops: massive giants, ranging anywhere from five to fifteen meters in height, shuffling aimlessly about the streets and swiping for small things zipping through the air. small things— people. uniformed fighters and soldiers stationed to take down their enemies, and judging by the screams and bloody carnage left behind from mangled corpses and half eaten torsos, stray arms and legs a titan couldn't bother to finish eating— they aren't doing so well.

soren will luckily find himself on one of the many roofs still standing, but far from the danger that lingered enough to damage him. almost immediately, a voice of ire, young and reckless, screams: thomas! wait! it's eren, if one could recognize not only a face clean of scales and a frame entirely human— he's young, almost too young to be wielding the blades in his hands and the symbol on his shoulders and heart.

and he's going after a wandering abnormal, its chest, mouth and throat littered with blood. its limbs are long and its face a twisted horror. his squad-mates scream after him: eren, no! don't go off on your own, it's too dangerous! he ignores them, without meaning to, but he does. because all the young eren saw was blinding red. his hatred spewed from his words of vengeance, and he declares as he spins into combat with the high-speed gas propellers that shoot him into flight: i'm not going to let you get away with that!

the trajectory of where the young eren was going was eminent— and it wasn't that titan. the soaring dragon (eren, older) had descended into a headlong skim over the rooftops and had overseen the unsuspecting invader of his life from above in the form of a circling silhouette of black. he barks when his talons peel off ceramic covering once he's landed, mostly for the other fellow dragon to move lest he wanted to get showered with debris and a hurling body in four, three— ]

Get back.

[ he says it coldly and quickly, smacking the fellow back with his tail if he didn't take the hint the first time. ]

[silentsavant]

[ even if eren did not warn him, soren would have had the reflexes and sense to watch out for impending danger to avoid it promptly. adrenaline whips him into scrambling across the rooftop in an all-limbs-on-deck production.

but nobody could blame eren for warning him, either. he'd been through this memory before, probably didn't want some unrelated bystander to get caught up in it, and soren had been wearing a face of mystified horror upon seeing these grotesque, naked giants prey upon human beings. even being inured to a colorful variety of bloodshed and violence as a child, a mercenary, and in fighting wars, none of it had been quite so disturbing as whatever terrorizes this city. it would be easy to suspect that he'd been taken off-guard by it all, but soren's sense of survival is just too keen.

whether the crash of body and architecture would have actually hurt him in these memories, he'd rather not take any chances. soren lands a distance away unscathed, hooked to the side of a rooftop with the claws of his wings to assist in grappling.

it's hard to pick what to focus on more: the boy chasing after the giant, his greater surroundings, or present-day eren. but he assesses his immediate surroundings first to check for more oncoming danger, first, and addresses the wyvern in his company as his eyes follow the younger eren, whose equipment he recognized before arriving at the conclusion of its owner. ]

Eren! This is your memory? What... are these atrocities?

@julian (cw: gore)

[usurpers]

[ the air breathed in whatever enclosure julian now finds himself in is hot. it burns the trachea all the way into the lungs, fans out like fire itself and hurts. undeniably suffocating, what's worse are the nauseous fumes that rise with the heat and slowly choke the next waiting breath out. the walls surrounding them are of smooth muscle. look down, and the pool that soaks him isn't entirely liquid— it's viscous and nearly black, smells of acid, rot and thick iron. buoyant are limbs unattached to bodies, dead corpses, heads, torsos and torn flesh that's hard to decipher what it used to be.

some of the people in there are still alive, just like the teen that comes crashing down from the only way in: a sphincter just above their heads. the splash is slushy and repugnant, his eyes are shut tight only to snap open, look around him. he holds his arm up to try and smack the pile of dead bodies away from him, but it's gone. he doesn't have an arm anymore, snapped clean off. the young eren shrieks as he tries to flail back from the half-eaten remains of his comrades, a leg missing as well and nearly going submersed in viscera from trying to use it to step away— he chokes up another sound, not so much a scream now more than a strained retch, oh god.

they're in a titan's stomach, and this was nothing short of a nightmare. this can't—! he starts, through shocked sobbing, this can't be happening—! ]

[rowdyraven]

[He comes stumbling through the mirror-portal into what feels like hell itself. The heat sears his throat, his lungs, leaves him dragging in desperate ragged breaths as his eye opens wide as a strangulation, fear coiling hot as the fetid air, right at the centre of him. He looks about him, desperate, for some kind of exit, a way out of this stinking oppressive tomb, but all he sees are floating torn-off limbs like grisly doll parts, bodies floating in the acid mire. One moment of awful, frozen horror--

--and then he's stumbling forward, sloshing through viscous liquid, reaching for the shorn-off trunk of a torso that seems - horribly, terrifyingly - to still be breathing. There must be something he can do, some way he can help...and for one ugly moment Vesuvia at the height of the plague rises up thick inside his head. Tries to drag him back down into the horror of that time, bodies piled in the streets, desperate cries of those caught fast in the plague with no hope remaining to them--

--the vision is broken when something comes hurtling down from above. From what - sickeningly, horrifically - seems to be organic, and then there's a boy shrieking and flailing in the odorous mire. Broken, torn apart, limbs missing.]

Hey, hey! Here, let me...

[And he'll try splashing towards the shifting, sobbing form. Desperate to help, despite that his mind is filled to bursting with blank terror.]

@mettaton (cw: violence, self harm, death, gore, cannibalism)

[usurpers]

[ these would be peaceful plains with the view of a marvelous sunset and dancing wildflowers, had it not been for the butchery that was taking place. a younger mikasa watches on in horror. a young eren with his hands steaming and a lack of fingers (all of his fingers, with self inflicted bites that disfigured him) kneels in front of a horrific titan that seemed to smile wide as she pulled apart the entrails of a man in her hands. half a man. his legs were gone and what remained of his spine dangled until the titan pushed the soldier's lifeless corpse through her teeth and into her mouth, holding her hands there to keep the gore from slipping between the spaces of her fingers as bone cracked in her jaws.

it was a horrible, disgusting sound filled with snaps, pops and gurgles; the only other sound that blared was eren's desperate cries. at first it sounds like he's laughing. his unbelieving guffaws slip into despondent wails. he screams, he shrieks for his mother, he grieves that he's useless. that he's weak. that nothing has changed. i'm still just . . . a boy who can't do anything!! he cries, his own face wet with overflowing tears. he inhales, he pulls his hands to his head— and he screams. long, hysterically and hopelessly.

mikasa looks over her shoulder and sees beyond the dragon that cranes his long neck down to watch her. she looks around them, where her comrades are all cornered. a blond boy waves his sword at an approaching titan as he cradles a fainted friend in his arms, and he screams too. the giant attempts to reach for him and he could only back into a tree. there are more. they fly with their maneuver gear, they swing to slay their towering enemies, but they're too outnumbered. there're too many for the amount of soldiers they had to fight on. one by one, more and more are lost in their own death howls, right before they're eaten alive.

eren, she speaks, gently and detached from what's happening, and the young boy's attention snaps to her in a jolt, his face pale, stained with tears and his emerald eyes wide with shock. that's not true, she says, with a comforting smile that seems misplaced with titans nearing them from behind, and the smiling titan in front of them finishing her meal. eren looks to his comrades, with equal horror, and mikasa calls him back with tranquility.

listen to me, eren. there's something i want to say.

there's something eren (older) hadn't noticed at the time, perhaps. he stations himself just behind his younger counterpart, his dragonic skull following the boy's shoulder, and stationing his eye level just enough to recreate hearing the words meant for him. ]

She gave up. [ eren speaks, out loud and for the scent he knows his tongue caught as he visited his memories, specifically one with the both of them involved. ] When there's no way, she always does.

[ floch, for the worst, was right and he didn't want to believe it at the time or pay attention to it for the sake of their friendship. it wasn't the first time that mikasa had thrown in the towel, and now, years later— eren uses it against her, or at least tries to. did mettaton know that? his expressions are difficult to read when masked behind an elongated, nearly cheekless maw and a scaley hide. what's as bright as ever, and as sullen as a rainy day are his eyes. pin-slit and reptilian, but still full of stories wrapped in sorrow. ]

[glitzandglamour]

[Mettaton doesn't know whose mirror this is. There's not enough information to him, but it's somebody he knows, on a rudimentary level, at least. That means it's his show to watch, as far as the Puca's concerned, and that's how he ends up... here. (All mirrors are his show to watch.)

Watching a titan pull apart a corpse and slide it into her mouth. The slide of sinew and the crunch of bone. Immediately, Mettaton takes a step back. The poor robot's seen too much already tonight.

(Or maybe, he's finally seeing what needs to be seen? It's hard to say. What use does this serve a monster from a realm of relative peace? (Some may argue that it offers a lot: what will humanity do in the long run, now that they've accessed the Surface? Will peace last...?))

And it continues. Mettaton freezes, silver ears standing high at MemEren's screams and wails and tears. These titans close in, and Mettaton feels so much sympathy for everyone's high-strung emotions.

MemMikasa speaks, her voice calm. It's not at all appropriate for the tone, and Mettaton finds his ears biased toward her, waiting eagerly for her to say her piece. What does she need to say to Eren...?

(Would she be crazy enough to confess love at a time like this, as if it's her end...? This tense situation. It's a romantic cliche, but Mikasa... doesn't end, not here. So...)

And Eren gives clarification. Yes, whatever she's saying, it's because she gave up. He's convinced, but at the same time, he's not.

Mettaton shakes his head. Mikasa, give up? Humans don't give up. He knows this about them, he thinks. When there's no way... He remembers that she told him about her principles. That she'd rather talk things out than resort to violence, but that whatever sorry state her world's in, she can't follow her principles anymore. She has to fight, for one reason or another. She's given up on her values. Mettaton frowns at Eren, unable to read his expression.

The titans are not a backdrop to him, and he wavers uncomfortably in the plains. More than their uncanny appearance, it's the dying that unsettles Mettaton, and he can scarcely either make eye contact with the corpses, nor can he bring himself to pull his gaze away when he sees it. With a leap, the android finds himself closing in on Eren out of some sense of twisted security, like being closer to the owner of the memory might guarantee him safety from his demons. It's all apparition, his memory, but it's all so much to take in for him.]

Of all times to give in... Why does she do it now?

[His voice betrays that he feels doubt that she ever did give in. Is Mikasa really giving in if she's the one with the voice serene while others scream? (Or do they scream because they have fight left and desperation to spare?)]

@jonas

[usurpers]

[ the hospital had its gates open, mostly for patients to get some fresh air with the companionship of a nurse. most, if not all of them are mentally unstable from the way they act and fumble about, drool or attempt to make nonsense conversation with their caretakers. some don't stop rocking back and forth or only remember how to say one word. the majority have physical scars that demote movement or impair the senses— missing eyes, burn victims, amputees and so forth. exceedingly, these patients are war veterans and victims of traumatic disorders, young and old.

and so seemed one, unkempt and unshaven with long black hair sitting alone out in the yard, missing a leg and eye, covered with cloth. he keeps to himself and talks to no one, until— he spots a boy, and recognizes him. heeey, he calls, shuffling his crutch out of the way to make more room on the bench he occupied. it was a gesture for the child to come sit with him, and further endorses that by patting his hand against the now empty spot. thanks for the other day.

the boy ends up walking over and sits with the man, smiling and greeting him with kind words. they even exchange their names: the boy was falco. the man was kruger.

kruger was also the dragon sitting next to the bench. ]

powerslides in

[coherer]

(he doesn't recognize the frame, doesn't consider it. it draws him in, an accident that has him pushing his hand through in one of his first experiences in the shared dream. it ripples, his brow knits, and the rest of his arm sinks into silver as curiosity gets the better of him. always has, and the intrepidity of his soul won't call for an intervention anytime soon.

the hospital grounds are wide, green, and intimidating. while jonas has never experienced an institution like this, the orderlies are familiar in a way that makes his chest tight.) H-Hello? Can anybody tell me where I am? (called to anyone who'll listen, a couple of people in bandages stare sightlessly through him when they can see at all, an older throng ignoring him coldly.

it's jarring enough that he grabs at his arms and hugs tight, eyes following the stone paths until they settle on someone immediately recognizable.)

Eren? (but what is he doing crouched beside the only two who seem significant to him, memory leading him to the scene that unfolds with smiles and greetings and exchanges of names. falco, a sweet boy who seems ready to immerse himself in conversation; kruger, who's heavy wounded and making more space despite how little he takes up on the bench. the prevailing mood would seem almost peaceful, if it weren't for the bleeding heart watching them, jonas' first instinct to wander closer to the dragon while staring unblinkingly at the dishevelled appearance of—)

Are... you alright? Is– is that... you? (asked concernedly, far from shy about their last encounter when his legs bend and he drops right down beside him.) What is this place?

@itachi (cw: violence, gore, cannibalism)

[usurpers]

[ the seatings, the stage, the rooftops— wherever a dreamwalker lands, they're still apart of the thousands of people gathered at liberio's center for a formal occasion. bleachers are raised and crowded, soldiers station on top of buildings to offer strategic protection, citizens are situated outside their windows to listen just above a cleared stage, lit like christmas, and all focus is honed onto a single man speaking out to the public. he speaks of horrors, of battles, of peace being threatened by a man— no, a monster, who threatens all of humanity. his name is eren jaeger, they say, but further instigation to band together to fight this threat chimes with the crowd. they cry, cheer for him, agree with his speech with applause and heartfelt roars that hum with the air— willy tybur is a man of peace, honor, and publicity.

to the enemies on paradis, he bellows, earning one stretch of respected silence that would surely follow a standing ovation: this is a declaration of war—

as if programmed to the word war, the earth trembles, the building just behind the stage bursts from the ground upwards. the families outside their windows are crushed in the sudden split of brick and stone, the stage splinters to make way for the titan that explodes from the ground. it roars an ugly cry like thunder shrieking to no end, lifting its fist high and bringing it down against the rest of the stage into a deep splinter— and right on the speaker.

the crowd is silent, struck with terror enough to lose their voices. the soldiers are misplaced and can only stare from their posts rather than act. the titan crushes the man in its fingers like snapping toothpicks, effortlessly, throws him into the air, and swallows what remains of his mangled body whole in a single chomp. reality takes hold of the city and one after another, people begin to scream until the cries become a terrifying symphony. some trample over each other to get out of the way, children too small to swim in the crowd are thrown and bludgeoned, struck to death by panicking legs much larger than them. some are already crushed or impaled by hurled pieces of rock, wood, and metal, others are soon to be crushed as the titan prepares to land another devastating blow on those who could do nothing but flee.

what the horse-sized dragon hosting the recollection does not like about this is that— one of these things is not like the other. there's a smell here that sticks out from the dust, blood and rubble. it is an invading scent to his tongue that he's not hostile to, but more so concerned. things that happen in dreams lately have existing repercussions in the waking world, and he can't tell their skill level through his tongue. only that there's magic, a lot of it, but not a honed abundance you'd see in a year-old coven veteran.

he glides with bat-like wings close to wherever the magic takes him, and knows exactly where to evade his own strikes when he dips moments before the titan swings its arms back to gain momentum for what seems to be like the movements one would make right before jumping. ]

[anbu]

[Itachi drifts hazy and detached through the halls of the Looking-Glass House, detached from himself as the dream settles, a disassociation he finds familiar enough it takes no effort to adjust. Dark eyes study the sheer maze of mirrors. All are plain and unassuming, yet their faces glitter bright and shimmery, seeming to suggest an activated magic — a portal through. Itachi chooses one at random, tall and wood-framed, and touches his fingertips to its reflected surface.

Watching as a pale wash of light swallows his hand, his wrist, his entire arm, Itachi steps one foot in and carries through the movement, passing inside this other plane. The environment is immediately unfamiliar. He comes to find himself standing at the edge of a rooftop, beside what appears to be men in militaristic uniform. The vantage point affords him a panoramic view of the area, crowds of civilians focused on a center stage where a man is upraised to address them. The speech itself is difficult to focus on amid disorientation, though Itachi collects enough to determine its main subject. A monster. What was the name? He hears it, but the syllables are slippery: air, ren, ya, gur...

The scene is split, then, by chaos and destruction. Due to his own proclivity for combat, Itachi's composure remains intact, but time seems almost to slow down as the human-shaped creature crashes out of the depths of the earth and wreaks violent havoc on the gathered assembly. The speaker is soon devoured in a swallow of powerful jaws. Screams of terror and pain rend the air, sight of death filling his eyes, twisting his gut. Men, women, and children all fall like straw dolls against such a beast; there's nothing to fight back, no one who seems capable of stopping this rampage.

Its path is, unfortunately, in line with the building Itachi is standing on. The foundation begins to crack in its collapse, military men around him thrown to panic as they lose their footing and fall to a broken death. Concrete splinters out beneath his feet and spiderwebs down the length of the roof's ledge. Itachi instinctually reaches for chakra in preparation to catch his own fall; logically, it doesn't respond, and instead his body slides halfway across the sagging rooftop. A deft hand grabs the edge of debris, and so he hangs there dangling high over the ground.

Magic flares responsively within Itachi like a beacon of hot light, energy that itches full and powerful, but nothing he's learned will rescue him from this situation. Adrenaline thunders loud in his head.

Of all the mirrors to walk into........]

@judar

[usurpers]

[ when judar finds himself through a door closed shut behind him, he’ll be in a room with five others: the sleek black dragon overseeing the memory, and four a part of the memory. a blond boy, mikasa, a scared-shitless little girl with a bloody lip, and— eren, without the dragon parts, the palm of his hand sliced enough to pool blood beneath. the small girl eyes his hand, specifically, and trembles with held breathing. she’s terrified of him.

i wanted to talk to you guys in a quiet setting, eren starts, his eyes tired and his voice leveled. he reassures his childhood friends and +1 brat who killed sasha that this could happen with no quarrel at all. actually, eren— we wanted to speak to you, the blond mentions, and once eren affirms that everyone they know are just being relocated, the questions from armin start: why did you attack marley alone? whose side are you on?

silence weighs onto the room with restiveness; eren pushes his heels into the floor underneath the table, causing his chair to tip back and balance on the back legs. like a child already bored of the conversation, or, a somewhat nervous adult that shows them nothing beyond a poker face. he speaks three simple words then, ones that leave his company confused: i am free. ]

[kuroi_taiyo]

[ It's certainly a good place to start, at least. Judar mainly followed a familiar form, a little out of curiosity, and a little as something to do.

Okay, good may be relative, given that apparently Eren's hand was just bleeding onto a table. He just had to think of how this is what Eren was like, how he looked before all the dragon changes. Looking over the people, recognizing at least one of them right now, he finally went to sit by the dragon while listening.

Such a move there though, huh big guy? 'Free' huh? Seems familiar. ]

Well, I can certainly see what traits were always with you, just by this...

@viren (cw: violence, gore, death)

[usurpers]

[ this memory is— an odd one. a father just leaves his home, says good-bye to his family and he's off to another day of work. a smaller eren waves at him from the patio, no older than ten. his mother is by his side and so was a girl around his age, doing the same. thing is— grisha seems to be staring through a much older counterpart of his son in front of him, going pale with a shaken, horrified look in his gaze as he watches a tragedy unfold behind his mind's eye. a memory from the future. no one else seems to notice. you would look the same too, if your child son was right next to you one moment, then an older ghost appears to you the next. and no one else seems to goddamn notice the invisible elephant in the room.

the older seeming eren is accompanied by another man, and they both follow grisha along to a secluded chapel. viren, of course, would be compelled to follow the limits of eren's memories. there's a hidden entryway under a carpet and furniture, leading into a basement that he goes directly for, as if he's been here before. he descends. descends a spiraling staircase that brings those who follow into a massive crystal cavern— it's the same color and texture of the obsidian dragon's horns and talons, found and waiting at the cavern's mouth to proceed.

there're people in there. a family of seven, half of them only children, all in flowing white gowns and hardly suspecting an intruder in their sacred grounds, if the shock isn't apparent with the way the children huddle close to their firm standing guardians. there, grisha begins to beg them: king of the walls! you must kill the titans who'll attack, or else my wife, my children . . . everyone will be eaten!

no one seems to look at the other two men supposedly in the room— their eyes are all on grisha, the same way both dreamwalkers go completely unnoticed. the "king of the walls" is a woman, who steps forth and denies a desperate grisha of his wish. the time has come for all subjects of ymir to face judgement, she announces, ending with: in order to protect the world, we must accept our sins. our only choice is to perish.

the bearded man comments with eren: i could get along with her— but soon, this family will be slaughtered by grisha. you said you saw this memory before. you said it made you lose all hope in our father . . . was that another lie, eren? his brother halts his words, swallows them— because eren is glaring at the family with a glower as sharp as an unused dagger made for splitting flesh clean. the more grisha implores her, questions if ignorance is truly the way to go, frieda only decorates words already spoken. if we remain ignorant and accept the world's rage . . . we eldians will be the only ones who have to die.

at this point, the ghost of eren jaeger is seething an aura of objection so great it solely amplifies the tension in the room, and grisha could feel it enough to peek over his shoulder and search for whatever it was that was making him profusely uneasy. ]

As an advisor, [ speaks the dragon, finally, feeling the same ire beginning to prick at his scales and make his tail rattle just listening to her depreciate every single life born to this island as he stalks into an irritable, circular pace. ] what would you say to that?

[bloodwit]

[ viren's compelled, and the open sight of the crystal cavern is something he finds breathtaking, if it weren't for the imposing (of what that imposes, he doesn't yet know) climate. so, this grisha -- was the bearded man, and eren's, father?

viren's gaze flicks over the occupants of the cavern, noting each of them and their positions in their own right. he almost has to physically step back from where he observes to comprehend it all; but even as a mere observer, he's not unaffected. his heart sinks with the weighty atmosphere and even heavier declarations. and still, something is off that he's yet to place, just enough that it itches at the back of his mind.

the (present) eren addresses him, and he startles in shifting his attention. shoulders pulling back, he casts a sidelong look at the other dragon, reticent in that even if he is familiar. his own tail flicks. ]

That depends, as to who I am advising. [ he begins, cautiously. ] You, Eren?

@mikasa (cw: slavery, gore, abuse, rape, cannibalism)

[usurpers]

[ the primitive tribe mikasa finds herself in is dreary and crowded. only a select few are given the notion of pleasantries, of feasts and wedding celebrations. the rest are slaves, chained, beaten and raptured from their homes. each one’s tongue is removed with pliers and a dagger heated at a fire— so they don’t ever speak up again.

one of you has let a pig get away.

the one who sits on top of a wooden platform and guarded by four burly men wielding spears and axes seems to be the leader, bearded and dressed in furs. he announces to the crowd of slaves he’s collected, tattered, dirty and worn to their limits. unhealthy with brittle nails and frail bodies: if they didn’t say who did it, each slave would have an eye removed. slaves have to need for two eyes.

after a stretching silence, they all begin to point, one after another— to a slave girl, no younger than ten. confused as she turns her head around her, everyone points. was she truly the one to let the pig loose? she couldn’t speak up, and all odds were against her. if she denied, then truly, everyone would suffer under the king’s hand. everyone had saved themselves, and ymir could only pick up what was given to her, kneeling before her master and hanging her head.

very well, the king says, ordering his guards to hold her down and, in front of everyone, as a lesson, gauge both of the little girl’s eyes out, feed them to the hounds, and release her at the forest’s edge. you are free, he tells her, before dispatching his men, with horses and dogs, to hunt her down for sport. they shoot at her, with arrowheads from shoulder to leg, wherever it would hit. she couldn’t see, she falls— and blindly, faltering, she staggers to where her hands feel she could run to amongst the trees. ]

[stopfen]

[Mikasa had not been expecting any of this when she'd walked through the more ornate mirror. The one covered in bones and a chain. It looked so much more than the others on either side of it that she couldn't help but touch it. Then she was there, in a courtyard. It was a good thing the people of the dreams couldn't be interacted with. There was so many crowded in this small area, all under this man's gaze. Mikasa only keeping to the outskirts by virtue of them not being able to see her to move her in with the group.

The threat gets a wince from her. Such needless cruelty. She'd seen death. Seen it enough to block that out until she'd had time to think after the fighting was over. But this... It seemed so pointless. So cruel. Control via fear.

She'd like to say she was shocked with how quickly they'd turned on a child. But she wasn't. She'd seen it before. The boy in the market, the adults that would have beaten Eren had they the chance all the way back when he cheered the scouts on.

Then they're moving. She pursues. It shouldn't be a fair chase. Even Mikasa wouldn't be able to outrun a horse. The only advantage the girl and Mikasa had there was the forest. Too many trees for a horse to run through at full speed. But the girl didn't have an advantage without her eyes. And the dogs were much swifter than the men and their mounts. Snarling and pulling to be let loose. Now these dogs were dangerous unlike the playful beasts she'd seen before, for such a small girl who was stumbling.

She keeps following, not expecting this to last long. ]

@kaede (cw: violence, gore, freaky alien shit)

[usurpers]

[ cannons firing, gunshots ringing and the rumbling cracks of hurdling debris could only point to warfare— and they're in the middle of it. titans rush left and right, with one in particular feasting on a body close by. two fight amongst each other, with the huskier armored one straddling another with pointed ears and a skinless, exposed maw. familiar, perhaps—? only further when the armored titan lands a punch into the attack titan's skull enough to dent a hole straight through its mouth. the lower titan shrieks, and from its wound its head begins to shine with light. blue crystal cracks, forms and spreads like wildfire from the attack titan's body and traps the armored titan's limbs.

from the lower titan's nape bursts eren, making his escape and sprinting straight for a massive, steaming pile ahead of them. the armored titan once stuck, roars and breaks free, desperately snapping out to grab him. eren! a voice from the steam shouts, and eren himself only turns his head with wide, rushed eyes when the shadow of a hand is upon him.

he only manages to keep going because of two airborne soldiers, rocketing explosives into the titan's hand and face, exploding behind him in a grand burst. everything still felt like movements in slow motion for eren, the dragon, it felt like years when he was in paths waiting for this to tick by when only a second passed in real-time. that second was coming soon, and when he realizes—

he starts looking for her, and where the chimera stood. they were too close. they can't stay here. ]

[long_live_the_queen]

[The sound of gunshots had ceased to startle Kaede anymore. But the boom-roar of a not-very-distant cannon—that got her to jump, flattening her ears in a vain attempt to stop them ringing. Gunfire was something Kaede had unlearned her fear of—not when her power could stop most bullets in midair and turn aside the heaviest.

But that power wouldn't protect her now. Or against shrapnel, or whatever these giants were. Kaede needed to pay attention now. The Chimera dropped to four feet, low to the grass to make herself less of a target. The giants took no more notice of her than an elephant would regard a flea—but something about one of them certainly caught her attention.

Eren—human, without a scale to be seen—tearing out of one giant's neck. The giant's body goes unresponsive—a puppet with its strings cut, a husk left behind. Like when Eren switched between his Dragon form and the one more human. The crystals binding the other giant's fists looked like Eren's horns did, the lines on this human Eren's eyes the same as the one on the Monster.

So if this was his memory, where was he?]

@sasuke (cw: gore, cannibalism, death)

[usurpers]

[ ah. we're here. eren wasn't sure if he could say that this was the day everything changed. maybe it was? or maybe it was predetermined earlier the same day. or even earlier, when he wasn't even born yet. when he looks back on it, like right now, his expression draws a dulled blank. a terrible sound cracks, the ground shakes, and just over the 50 meter wall that surrounds shinganshina district, you see it: a steaming colossal titan peeking out from the top. it kicks down the barrier between them in a dreaded pause of silence that follows a boom, causing shattered boulders to rain down on the protected city and cause instant panic. they crush homes and comet into bodies that were seconds before attempting to run. there’s screaming, bolting in every direction in sheer terror from the townspeople fleeing for themselves or carrying their children, some shriek to encounter corpses of loved ones already smashed under flung debris.

the black dragon knows the way without running into the titans that are now pouring through the hole and eating people alive— a given. he follows his much younger counterpart, a girl with dark hair and eyes running after him. mom is still home!! he shouts, fearful of the rock that had just shot its way in the direction of his house.

he feels— nothing, when he sees it all pan out before him again. for something that had once fueled his hate for years, now? it was a tragedy that happened. ]

This way. It's the only safer path. [ the streets already smell like blood, and any more hurdling debris would actually hurt. would titans try and eat them, here? do those count as creatures rather than npcs? ] —I wouldn't wait to test anything.

[ not a matter of skill, here. even the most experienced have fallen in the hands of a mindless titan— with no proper equipment, the best thing to do was keep distance. not even in a dream did he wish one to experience the horror of being consumed alive. ]

[eyeforaneye]

[ The mirror isn't one that he's able to recognize as belonging to someone he knows, either not seeing enough of its features or not knowing enough about its owner to discern the truth. No matter. As soon as he steps through his focus is wrenched away from internal puzzles to the chaos of the scene around him. Screams fill the air and draw his eyes to the source of the ground's steady quakes.

Whatever he expects isn't what he gets, a massive humanoid fighting his way through a wall almost certainly constructed to keep him out... and he's not alone. More of the titans are crowding in behind, spreading destruction the likes of which he isn't certain he's seen before. Not like this. Gaping grins are soon painted red as they sweep at bodies like they're toys, almost certain he hears snapping bone on bone even above the cacophony of fallen rubble.

A familiar voice cuts through the din but it's not a familiar form that greets moderately widened eyes that quickly narrow. A dragon, fully shifted and close by. Immediately he speeds up that he might keep pace, lining them up before a hand suddenly reaches out to grab for a scaly neck when he pitches himself to the side. One leg swings over Eren's body, the other tightening on the other side that he might secure for himself a good hold and a better vantage point. ]

You're a dragon, aren't you? So fly then. [ Anything to get them through the streets faster, eyes already locked onto a distantly familiar but younger figure running ahead. ]

@stiles (cw: mentions of cannibalism)

[usurpers]

[ "hey, historia? that guy, eren— can he really turn into a titan?"

"bullshit. he never helps around and he always daydreams, i saw it."

". . . when eren’s a titan, does he eat people?”

these were some of the many questions and opinions the children at the newly built orphanage ask and banter with historia, the island's young queen. blond and even petite, she laughs with her friends nearby as she retells her day with her gaze to a starry night sky, once the children are put to sleep: to a shorter blond, a young man with an undercut and another in a black coat, hair growing out to his shoulders and blue eyes downcast. they come to help around when needed, it being historia's idea from the start when she was first crowned. she doesn't even seem like what you'd expect of a queen, at times like these. "he doesn’t eat people, you know. he uses his titan power to fight. he might zone out from time to time, that’s true. but please, trust in him," were some of the many responses she gave and recited to her company, and not long after, the younger, more melancholy eren responds: i’m… becoming a 'good titan who fights to protect everyone’, huh.

it was clear, from his tone and his forlorn gaze, that the supposed praise was perplexing him. he didn't like it.

eren (the older, more draconic one) gives historia a watchful gaze as she sucks in a breath. none of them knew then, but . . . he wonders, they had a feeling. at least some of them— yet they chose to ignore it. he wondered why, sometimes. then he wonders if that had been necessary and predetermined as well. it isn't long before the memory's holder speaks up to his visitor, wherever he was— he knew he was there.

he considers, mostly just . . . ah, he didn't know. maybe rambling. maybe just grasping for reality to keep him sound. normalcy in speaking with company. the fraternizing his dragon type craves when he's always, at least recently, pushed people as far away as possible. ]

You weren't so far off, after all.

[ it's ironic and a dark, twisted sort of joke, but hey. he's trying to connect without seeming so down. he and his younger counterpart aren't too difficult to recognize as each other— the older eren only had much longer hair, and plenty more scales to account for. appendages, too. ]

[mensrea]

[ The memory is a perplexing one, forcing him to listen attentively as he tries to untangle the different threads and apply them to what little context he has. Things begin to make more sense the moment he understands who this “Eren” is: Krüeger. Stiles isn’t bothered by the name discrepancy; after all, he personally chooses not to give out his real name. Maybe Krüeger’s name changed at some point between this memory and when the Dragon introduced himself in the Wildes. Maybe it’s just a preference. Either way, Stiles doesn’t judge.

As for the rest of the conversation… Well, it really depends on what, exactly, a Titan is. Judging by Eren’s lackluster response to the young woman’s retelling, Titans must generally be an issue for people. The children’s questions make them out to sound like some kind of Boogeyman, honestly.

When Krüeger speaks up – startling Stiles from where he’d been lurking, holy shit he thought he was alone in the memory – the Arachne reluctantly comes out into the open. ]

About what? [ he asks, wondering if the comment was even directed to him or if it was meant to the ghosts in the memory. ]

@towa (cw: alcohol)

[usurpers]

[ towa will step right into bubbling laughter, slurring words and racing songs strewed with claps. everyone has a cup in hand, filled with drinks that seem a little too strong for the young people indulging— but they do so anyway in tent they've been invited to by the local foreigners. they can't seem to understand each other when they speak, both adhere to different mother tongues, yet one universal movement is understood and followed here: fun. they kick of their shoes and get comfortable, they pour and dance and bump into each other in a drunken flit, which only attracts even more cackling.

a slightly younger eren has an entire cup of scotch blow up in his face when a boy rockets onto his back. he ends up laughing right along with them face dripping and lifting one of the rugs up to wipe his face, oh dear— one of his friends squawk at him for being so barbaric, and another smears out a challenge: drink more.

the air, while a bit of an inebriated mess, is bubbly and well meaning. it almost feels like . . . they're having the time of their lives, and they are. the dragon that visits this memory finds himself tasting loneliness, nostalgia and dolor in his chest for it to have been his last happy moment with them all. he lays close to his counterpart, who soon looks to a grinning mikasa and armin— and smiles softly at the sight. the dragon himself might seem like he's smiling behind the younger eren's shoulder as he overlooked them all. ]

[overworker]

[Towa didn't know what to expect when a memory bubbled from the surface of the mirror, but this tone is far beyond any of the worrying things she thought she might see hiding in his past. Truthfully, it's a great relief. It may not be entirely like the dragon that she knows, but- this too is a part of him.

She smiles, staying close to him.

Although following his gaze, it's only natural that she'd recognize Mikasa. Even if she's a bit younger than the one Towa's met, there's no denying that the two are the same people. It's a bit of a surprise, learning that they were so close. Clearly she was someone of great importance to him. The other boy as well.

The look on his face-- on both of Eren's faces tells her that much.]

I don't feel so bad for exposing you to our wild parties anymore. It looks like you have some experience. If anything, I think we should drag you into them more often.

@a2 (cw: child soldiers)

[usurpers]

[ the majority of young boys and girls here are older than fifteen— they're all uniformed, yelling out in unison when prompted by their instructor. yes sir, no sir, i'm a maggot, sir and more occur on these training grounds, preening propper soldiers for the war against humanity's enemy: titans. the name of the game today was balance, allowing all pupils to have a taste of the weaponry that they'll be using as much as they breathe air: maneuver gear. each one has their own body harness, strapped down to their legs and torso with belts and buckles, then suspended in the air by two wires.

the goal was for everyone to remain upright, and all but one in the entire group of success is a grade a failure. when the instructor sees the pooling crowd around one of the columns, he pushes himself through— and sees a boy, hanging completely upside down. many of the boy's colleagues snicker, some watch with uneasiness and hope, crossing their fingers for him to get it right. instructor shadis breaks the uneasiness and throws an anchor right over it.

eren jaeger!! he shrieks, hoarse and merciless, right yourself!!!

eren can't right himself, no matter in which way he twists and wiggles. he tries and tries until the day goes dark, and by the end he might even look like he could cry. i'm not going back! he promises, anger laced with rage in his shaky voice, and while everyone was one break he was there: trying so hard and seething for him to get the balance everyone else did. he doesn't. ]

[abandonware]

[She'd wandered this place of mirrors to find her own, and with luck, destroy it — her memories were her last possession, and even that was suspect. But instead she finds herself distracted by all the other mirrors, other places, in this space that seems to stretch out endlessly.

When she steps into this space, she is in a world she does not recognize, a memory that does not belong to her. Still, she recognizes the concept of military drills immediately — though these appear to be human children, not androids nor machines. An oddity. Did humans send their children to fight? The machines had seemed so protective of their own children that it seemed bizarre to her to see the opposite here. They are all in uniform, and all appear to be balancing themselves with some strange sort of equipment she does not recognize.

Admonishment she does know, however, and passes through the crowd easily to gaze at the boy. The name she knows too, and stares at the boy who it belongs to, recognizing some of his features. This was that strange scaled man who had spoken to her at her arrival.

Her mouth twists in displeasure at the recollection, but she has had little opportunity to see humanity in a group, and this memory is of interest to her, though she finds she feels some vague stirring of pity at the boy's dogged struggle. He cannot force himself upright, and while A2 knows little of this equipment, she finds herself searching for the flaw in his maneuvering.]

You need to trust the equipment, [she says after a moment, though from her wandering in and out of these memories, she assumes he cannot hear her.] you're fighting it... why am I bothering with this.

[It's the most she's talked in ages, and the kid can't hear her.]

@emil (cw: violence, needles, human sacrifice, suicide ideation)

[usurpers]

[ the sight is blinding at first‐ because everywhere you look is the glaze of crystal. what seems to be a cavern completely capped and created from bright blue mineral forms pillars, curling staircases and a high altar at its greatest point. chained to that risen floor up above was a sacrifice, kneeling with his arms shackled outward and his head hanging. a man had just finished slicing open a cut across his forehead, taking to the air and swinging with maneuver gear to higher ground. now, fight.

a blonde girl in white robes and a syringe in her hand stands there below the altar, with determination in her eyes as she aims for a place to stab the needle into her forearm and inject herself. she trembles, a stalky short man (her father) bellows out from the distance and safety of a crystal column. hurry, historia! he cries out, and with sufficient trembling from her hand and hesitation to go through with . . . whatever it was she was going to do, her arms fall, her head tips high, and she asks:

why? why aren't you —?

the figure above, shackled to his fate could only choke out a sob that echoes out from the entire cavern. the older eren's horns almost camouflage among the gem-like architecture— it's the same color, same texture. he looks at this memory with a huff, slowly making his was to, well, away from the center. ]

Ignorance changes everything.

[ this was just another event that he caused, down to letting rodd reiss be the only one to survive his family's tragedy. everything was orchestrated, by eren's hand. young eren just didn't even know the half of it. then hadn't been the time. it bothers him somewhat, how hopeless he was. everyone could have their fall, and this was by far his worst. past was past, and what had happened was gone, either way. ]

misc

[usurpers]

(other memory misadventures can go here!♥)

[trouvaille]

( gwen's mirror is intricately molded; the highest point of it swooping down, stylized to evoke without explicitly representing backstage curtains, dripping musical notes and letters in jumbled chaos down the sides. within it—

it is dusk, and not yet true dark. the air is cold with the crispness of imminent snows, turning moisture into frost on windows and grass, and the silence is that unique flavor in modern life of relative isolation. from the broad veranda at the back of the house, the property stretches out toward a pathway and a wood, and the nearest neighbours must be miles away, impossible to see from here. the vintage car visible through the windows of the converted stable that's now a garage might have cost more than most people's homes, but isn't covered like something not to be used, just waiting.

it looks more cared for than the house. grand, but run-down—unloved. inside, it is dark, and someone is playing the piano.

a wrong note. silence. and then, again— )

@sokie

[usurpers]

[ gulls crow overhead, the roar of waves and the salty smell of ocean water bursts this memory to life when sokie steps in. the scene starts out rather fun and exhilarating— such were first time experiences, and this one just so happened to be the very first time the survey corpse have seen the ocean, or anything so vast beyond the walls that enclosed them from the world. horses are tied to trees nearby, and young soldiers remove their boots, gear, and roll up their pants to invite themselves into the sea's rolling waves from the sandy shore.

it's like watching an animal step foot on snow for the first time: caution, curiosity, bewilderment, then joy. some of the younger ones begin splashing each other, a girl shrieking out when her eyes are hit. another young man with an undercut cups the water, drinks— then promptly gahs with remorse and says: it's salty! another woman, one of the older ones, points out something she sees under the shallow waters, with a man telling her to leave it, in fear of being poisonous. she goes after it anyway, and drags out a species of— sea sponge? a rock? she's excited about them.

the more sokie ventures, the more she might see someone she's familiar with— two, eventually. one is mikasa with a blond boy, squealing when a tide rolls into her feet. but she smiles at the boy with a shell in his hand, and the boy grins back. eren! he calls out eventually. eren, look at this!

a figure with his back to them, ankles collecting seafoam and dark hair licking his neck doesn't respond. the older eren aefenglom is used to seeing doesn't walk into the sea as he once did. he stays by the sand, and finds himself gazing out into the endless horizon-line with a similar, grim silence. ]

[weirdnecro]

[She'd been drawn in by the pattern of spine and ribs, of bones that she had seen...how many times? How many different ways? She didn't remember.

But with the pieces of memory, and the sensation of almost falling, she thought she would find herself in a war zone. Or a murder scene. Something that would be grimdark.

Instead, this was...idyllic. Horses , and joy, awe, and wonder and...Mikasa.

Even if her hair was longer, and she wore a scarf, she knew the bambi stance in the water, the uncertainty.

And Eren...he looked so much smaller once. His eyes had been brighter, a dreamers. But...grim.

Killjoy.

Sokie started stripping down. The shoes came first; the socks were quick to follow, and the jacket. A hair ribbon was found in her pocket, and she started to casually tie it back as she walked towards the dragon, the person she knew.

Her hair, she realized, was getting more unruly. She'd need to cut it soon, before it frizzed out and became a complete mess.]

Mind if you tie my hair back big guy? I'll sit in front of you, then we can switch.

[No scolding, no remarking of blue skies and clear waters. No reminder of missing people or memories.]