[ eren can hardly believe that it’s jean who’s still talking to him and jean that sounds the most leveled of all of them when it came to, well, eren himself. he hits the nail right on the head and gives no room for the dragon to argue. there’s no room to throw back even hurtful truths (or insults) when jean has taken the opportunity away with a single joust: i have no right.
eren falters, mentally. he told himself not to break but he cracks, fissures under the pressure of silence, of years of keeping to himself. he would not flare out, wouldn’t slant his brows dangerously and prepare to strike. his pointed ears and spines behind them are expressive, folding back to the sides of his skull as his eyes become just as sullen as the last time jean had seen him in liberio, drifting downward to hopefully curtain them with all the hair he’s grown.
jean asks not what he’s doing and why. he’s asking about him and it catches eren off guard. he inhales, and from it came quiet words, with no conflict. he missed them all dearly. ]
It’s my choice, [ he lifts his head, but doesn’t seem any less ruined in his core. his frames of support are still holding strong, with the way his pin-slit pupils narrow into thin lines and how his jaws tighten, how he doesn’t waver with his tone or even his decision. he’s dead set. ] not yours.
[ it wasn’t a rebellious jab. it was the truth. the reason eren said nothing and said even less when a bullet pierced right through sasha. jean’s last words to him still buried so deep that his distance had grown thrice, and he’d go far enough to be someone, superficially, that he wasn’t, but someone internally all the same as eren could ever be. they didn’t and couldn’t get involved again just because he asked, and they really didn’t have to— at least they had a choice, now, one that eren had once stripped from them.
a stellar tag just in time for all these icons
eren falters, mentally. he told himself not to break but he cracks, fissures under the pressure of silence, of years of keeping to himself. he would not flare out, wouldn’t slant his brows dangerously and prepare to strike. his pointed ears and spines behind them are expressive, folding back to the sides of his skull as his eyes become just as sullen as the last time jean had seen him in liberio, drifting downward to hopefully curtain them with all the hair he’s grown.
jean asks not what he’s doing and why. he’s asking about him and it catches eren off guard. he inhales, and from it came quiet words, with no conflict. he missed them all dearly. ]
It’s my choice, [ he lifts his head, but doesn’t seem any less ruined in his core. his frames of support are still holding strong, with the way his pin-slit pupils narrow into thin lines and how his jaws tighten, how he doesn’t waver with his tone or even his decision. he’s dead set. ] not yours.
[ it wasn’t a rebellious jab. it was the truth. the reason eren said nothing and said even less when a bullet pierced right through sasha. jean’s last words to him still buried so deep that his distance had grown thrice, and he’d go far enough to be someone, superficially, that he wasn’t, but someone internally all the same as eren could ever be. they didn’t and couldn’t get involved again just because he asked, and they really didn’t have to— at least they had a choice, now, one that eren had once stripped from them.
and look where it led them. ]