middaeg | have you ever heard of bad ideas

have you ever heard of bad ideas

Who: eren jaeger (+ mikleo in the closed prompt), you in the open prompts!
When: may 7th - may 14th more or less i’m flexible
Where: mostly the coven’s magical creature stables, coven baths, wherever else if you’d like to plan something different! just hit me up 🤙
What: eren jaeger is a mess
Warnings: mild body horror (itching, raw skin, self harm, shedding?? w/e you call it), some nudity, eren jaeger

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[ if you’ve heard about some newcomer dingus going into the wilde and coming back mostly unscathed— then you’ve also heard, through the coven’s gossip, that nessie and mhairi have already given them stern punishment! forty lashes!! starvation!! banishment!! torture by—

you’ve probably heard it all and more. the truth is, eren is under stable-arrest for a week after being reckless, working harder than the daily keepers and wearing a closed off, unfriendly frown through most of his errands. either thinking about troubles or punishing himself through tasks.

tiny (many) braids hoist the longer hairs that would usually stick at the back of his neck when he’d start to sweat, despite the moisture and cloudy days of the month— the beginning of his hand, leading to his palm and thumb is disfigured and healing the old fashioned way, victim to a bite (from his own mouth), but laboring through any stings with sharp inhales. catch him working, or resting, or. doing something weird.

he can mostly be found around the horses, picking their hooves, carrying blocks of hay over his shoulders for feeding time, mucking their stables and brushing them with certain skill. he had to learn all of that to ride them back home— he’s tried his hand at the pristine unicorn out back, alas . . .

he has wonderful intentions, but his actions and intent to get there are far from pure. she rejects his attempts at petting often for grazing, but doesn’t turn her back to him completely. she watches him plenty, in fact, every so often coming over to smell his back as he mucks her space— and so does he (watch her), respecting her and making sure the water shines like her coat does.

the cockatrice rooster doesn’t seem to like him. puffing its neck out and stalking eren from behind, the cock asks for a duel with his foot as he scatters feed for them in the mornings. accidentally stepping on a resting hen’s tail doesn’t help his case. a scandalous squawk causes him to jump, the cock to attack— and this to happen. it’s hard to say which one’s screaming the loudest.

or wildcard a mythical creature there are so many good ones. ]

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[ knives, blades, needles and tools are no novelty to eren! when interest piques as a simple idea, it’s easy to ignore. at most, he’ll pick up whatever it is, give it a once over, before setting it back where it belongs while cleaning out the sheds and organizing utilities.

as his week passes, the idea becomes a desire. the oddity in collecting what has suddenly interested him gradually slips away, and soon enough—

by the end of the day, when the evening colors the sky with purple and murky charcoal, eren can be found going through the tool shed near the peryton for the sharp objects present, and ah.

just looking and testing the edge with his fingers, sharpening any dull things with the stable’s file. nothing more. noticing someone’s extra presence, he’ll look over his shoulder and speak up. ]

. . . I used to use blades a lot. Two at once.

[ it makes sense in his head at the moment, for staring at the edge of a hoof pick and garden sickle and holding back the small urge to stick it into his pocket. it’s the only thing that makes enough sense. ]

Ｃ．ＢＡＴＨＳ (cw: mild body horror)
[ once the days are close to over, eren heads out to wash his clothes and himself back at the coven’s baths, but almost always in a rush, caring not for the company he’d meet or share baths with. near panic flares his nostrils and makes his breathing heard from afar— because his body burns.

it itches day in, day out, he can’t sleep can’t eat can’t do anything with how much its come to drive his mind into a spiral. have you ever had full body psoriasis? once his clothes are discarded carelessly, wading into the waters until they lap at his hips, he scratches wildly at his skin, nails digging relentlessly into flesh until they leave behind streams of even brighter red than what they already were from grating at them all day. his teeth hurt, his mouth aches (another problem) and his skin crawls raw, hell he’s itching, he’s been itching horridly ever since he’s gotten back from his field trip to the wilde, and as a man who has a lot less self preservation than one should have—

it feels like there’s something under his joints, the corners of his eyes, his ears, his neck, the tops of his hands and feet up to his shins beyond the sore dryness and flaking; where the burn and skittering underneath is at its worse.

so he scratches, and cusses, and scratches until skin breaks, until it bleeds in the form of dots of crimson— until he’s picking at it, caring less for the stings it causes, what feels almost like relief rather than more pain to worry about.

slapping salves on him from the offered treatment some bonded have given him helps, and to stop mutilating himself more than he’s already prone to doing, he lathers up even before soaps to rub the excess dirt off him, exhaling a sigh when he could finally breathe. at least. for as long as the temporarily relief that the ointments bring would give him.

fearing that he’s caught by the very disease that overtook the filly pair past the slums . . . he’ll have to talk to mhairi again. perhaps one may want to stop him in the meantime, he’s starting to pick enough at spots that it looks like he’s 👌 this much away from tearing off layers. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ a soft psh passes his lips when asked not to thank him. rubbish, he’ll thank you all he wants. it’s not truly flippant a sound, but, you know. the same way mikleo had his reasons, eren had his.

the explanation brings a huff of laughter not quite having momentum to become a guffaw, smile less prominent but still there. that sounds like kids being the way they were supposed to be. it warms part of his heart, truth be told, when he can imagine a place where that’s possible. innocence. the world was better with it. it’s just a shame that reality can be a bit different.

because, the world was cruel. something in him still believed there was something beautiful about it, regardless. they were born after all, and they were born free, the most special gift of all. ]

There’s nothing gained without risk. [ said with a little more weight, the lines of his features pulling experience onto a face that was too young for said things, admittedly. ] Your friend?

[Tsunderes, man.

Mikleo knows how rare his and Sorey's upbringing is. They were raised like that on purpose. Had things gone just a little differently, they would both be dead a hundred times over, and the world would be overrun.

Destiny is a heavy weight indeed.]

Calculated risk. Though I'll admit some of our best discoveries were made accidentally.

[Eren really is too young to be saying things like that, yet Mikleo knows people who saw war at the age of sixteen. It's an unfortunate truth of being alive: innocence isn't forever.]

Yes. [Friend seems... inadequate a word, so he goes on to explain:] Sorey and I were taken in by the elder of a seraph village. He was the only other person my age, so we were pretty much inseparable. We've been together our whole lives-- at least until recently.

[He pauses.]

He's here too, actually. I'm sure he'd like you, though admittedly that's not a high bar since he likes everyone. [He glances at Eren up and down.] You can't be older than twenty, right? He's seventeen, maybe closer to eighteen now.

[ sometimes you don’t have time to do the math!!! eren would say, or at least something similar. now doesn’t seem like— mm. a time to go so deep.

he’s attention is taken in the meantime; they’re given passage, crossing the wall’s gates and onwards, to a place that wasn’t so populated. north, from what he’s gathered.

eren gives a quiet hah. he, for one, didn’t like just anyone— and it was even worse when he was a kid. he only had one friend! one. he has more now, sure— but eren was picky. ]

I’m 18. [ give or take some months. he’s probably closer to 19 at this point. ] We could do something together some time, [ and then, adding: ] He doesn’t sound boring.

[Mikleo is definitely paying attention now, his grip on his staff strong and confident. He might not know a lot of spells but he can still hit hard.]

I think he'd like that. He... doesn't have a lot of human friends, though he never complains. Everyone always treated him differently because of his powers. At least here he has a chance to be treated like everyone else.

[The seraph snorts ]

He's not boring-- he can barely sit still! Kind of like you, huh?

[ kind of like you, hah.

the slums are in their horizon line of vision— it’s pretty easy to see the difference between the structuring quality behind and over the walls. there’s certainly an air of abandonment to it the closer they get. huh—

he wonders why there’re people that still live out here, but is then quickly reminded that the probably don’t have a choice. no one wants to live in more dangerous districts. only because they had to. ]

I’d fight a lot when I was a kid. I had this friend who’d get picked on. [ . . . he was always hotheaded and mad, his frustrations had to go somewhere. ] If it wasn’t that, we’d break the law under our beds every day. Us three.

[Mikleo looks at the slums with some concern. It reminds him of the less shiny parts of Ladylake, the parts that had outgrown the moat and remained separated by water feature. That made it harder to defend from the really big threats but Alisha and her family did their due diligence on offering prayers for a safe city.]

I can see it. To me, you've never seemed like the kind of person to just ignore an injustice. I could be wrong, though.

[But he might not be. Mikleo peers at Eren's face, though he's mindful of their surroundings.]

There was a law against being a kid?

[ justice . . . is a complicated term for eren nowadays. when he was a few years younger, he’d certainly agree. there’s nothing better you can do than rid the world of blemishes and imperfections. deeds that ruined your very life. people who destroyed your home.

and what if, on the other end of the spectrum, you are the blemish? ]

Justice is an opinion. [ shaped by whoever’s on the pedestal, and long left behind by eren. what’s left now are his choices. what choices? he didn’t know yet. but he was working on it. freedom was far more important to him than what he’d call today, revenge in a mask. as for being kids, well. that was a crazy story.

he’s willing to share part of it. ]

Armin would have these books that talked about oceans. Lands of sand. Fields of ice. Mountains of fire. [ he knows what they’re called now, but it’s a dream that slipped away so long ago for him. he looks over his shoulder, towards the walls they leave, as if gesturing. ] We lived behind walls, like those. They were legends. It was forbidden to talk about the outside world.

[That's a curious answer, and Mikleo gives him a similarly-curious headtilt. His brow furrows.]

... Maybe.

[That is a seriously concerning answer, Eren. There's some things that don't need human law or human justice, like the murder or sacrifice of innocents. Mikleo will testify to that. He's lost friends, family-- and none of it was fair or just. His life as a seraph began because of that.

He's surprised to hear that Eren lived behind walls, eagerly absorbing information about the outside world. In a way, it sounds familiar.]

I can understand walls like this for protection, but to forbid knowledge? Though Sorey and I weren't allowed to set foot outside Gramps' domain, we always had books. There weren't walls.

[... In fact, that's the most insulting thing he's heard all day. It's an affront to his soul.]

People who control others through whitewashing the world are the worst kind of criminal. Absolutely insidious. There's no justification for it. Everyone, especially children, should have the right to dream.

[He's getting a little fired up, actually, his voice slightly sharper than usual. He seems to catch himself when his voice bounces back off a slum wall.]

Did you... run away?

[ eren as a whole should be a tad concerning, but. for someone who will soon be prepared to sacrifice innocents— it’s a very, very complicated thing to discuss. he’d rather focus on the question than soon see unnecessary disapproval.

In fact, wow. mikleo is getting. mad! It reminds him of, well, him. ]

We couldn’t— the titans were on the outside. [ eren’s mouth opens, then closes as they near the tattered appearance of slums. the silence was thick and the air to it was just—

It made him want to look around twice as more, out of alarm. but that’s not entirely why he pauses, too. It’s just such a long story that he almost doesn’t know how to make it brief. ]

But we did, eventually. We were making contact with the outside world when I left. All our ties, our plans [ eren makes a gesture, closer to his chest. ] depend on what I’m carrying.

[ that’s why he has to go home, that’s why— if he has to do anything here to go back, he would. He’d do what he had to. ]

. . . That’s why I need to go back. Everyone’s birthright is to be free.

[Mikleo can feel it. He remembers this from the dream. That pressure, weighing him down, a sort of burning... It's not as bad as it was, but he notices, and glances around too. What if one of those zombie things pops out? He breathes out slowly. It's fine. He won't mention it until it really starts to hurt.

He looks at Eren again, lavender eyes attentive and sympathetic.]

I understand.

[He needs to get back too, with Sorey in tow. But for now-- for now they have to survive here.

He hesitates, and very carefully reaches out to touch the back of Eren's hand.]

I'll do everything I can to make that happen.

It starts with this-- coming all the way out here.

Edited 2019-05-16 17:04 (UTC)

[ for one who had once recoiled at his touch, eren is still this time. perhaps, literally, coming to a stop in his steps once he feels cool fingers press onto the top of his hand. wide lavender eyes meet blue, of the same emotion, really, when given encouragement. eren doesn’t lift his hand afterwards to actively pull away from a lingering touch, but to instead return it in his own way— as a two-part clap between the space of mikleo’s chest connecting to his shoulder, a spot where his palm fits cleanly and his fingers curl for a grip: firm and resolute, all with a smile that has gone a little soft. just a little bit.

it’s refreshing to meet people like this. ]

Calculated risks.

[ . . . except eren was never good at math, so,

(bye)

upon further walking, the slums grow more battered and run down; less movement and less people can be seen in the eerie silence, until the slums are no more. they’ve reached no man’s land, stretching endlessly across their horizon line.

it’s here, that eren’s heard, where quests are taken, all mostly safe. the occasional infected rodent skitters past them back into tall grass at their presence, birds do the same.

but the air is still. simply still. eren eventually looks at the distance they’ve created behind them, then a little extra ahead— if he can walk a few meters ahead, say fifteen . . . he was still visible to mikleo, if his guesstimating is correct. no people in sight. no worrying shades. no red flags. hm. ]

—Stay here. I’m gonna go a little farther.

[The arm clap is different from what he's used to, but he doesn't flinch at Eren's touch or anything. That part is familiar, too, the way that Zaveid usually showed affection (that or draping all over him). But having the touch returned, small as it is, brings a sort of undeniable light to Mikleo's eyes and a brighter smile.]

Calculated risks, [he agrees.

He takes in the sight of the slums fading away and the feeling of corruption getting just a tad stronger. He rubs at his arms like he's getting cold, and maybe he is, a little.]

Okay. Stay in sight or I'll have to chase you, and I really don't want to chase you.

Chasing me isn’t your problem.

[

that’s said in a friendly and challenging manner at least, no I’ll meaning behind it :)he didn’t . . . quite feel the chill, but makes a mental note to be quick. mikleo gets a thumbs up, at least, raised over eren’s head as he walks a mighty enough distance away from him. thirty-ish meters, maybe a little bit less— that should be enough. and so, from his distance, eren begins his attempts, at first only one single bite between his wrist and thumb. deep enough his teeth went, sufficient to let a small line (two at most) of blood trickle from his canines and down the angle he holds his arm, but quiet in execution. from such a scope, it might not look like he’s doing much.

he lingers, for a moment, and nothing happens. he had a goal. he had blood. what he didn’t have were sparks. eren tries a second time, a third time, only with his thoughts. he attempts to heal his wound, and no steam comes.

there’s a spot of time here, where he’s simply . . . not registering a fact that he didn’t know how to deal with cleanly. “my powers are gone” wasn’t so simple for him. did they get passed on to the next eldian baby? would he die? would humanity perish? would all their efforts, his father, eren kruger, and down to whoever else was his predecessor, until now . . . be worth absolutely nothing?

so eren tries a forth, a fifth, a sixth time. something meant to be quick is taking longer than expecting, and the blurry movements from eren at that distance seem a bit more conspicuous. ]

Edited 2019-05-17 10:27 (UTC)

[Mikleo raises an eyebrow at that.] Sure. [Whatever Eren is trying to do is apparently very interesting. In the meantime he watches patiently, both arms wrapped about his staff as he leans against it. He scans their surroundings, too, just in case something pops out.

So far so good, but he can gradually feel that darkness growing stronger, like a hole in the wall being chipped away by water as it flows through.

Eren isn't getting any results with whatever he's doing. Mikleo feels for him somewhat though he's concerned for how he'll react.]

Eren! Are you all right?

[Is that blood? He can't tell from this angle...]

[ maybe he just had to try again, because this couldn’t happen. a direct answer to his question now wasn’t entirely believable at first. he couldn’t have lost them. he couldn’t have lost them both. he was no longer a beacon— he was an empty vault.

he’s determined— but panicked, too say the least, too absorbed to hear his name and doesn’t attempt to hide the countless crunches he feels snapping between his teeth. blood fills his mouth, bite after bite, switching hands, leaving behind merciless marks. it sheds his blood much faster, now a steady flow into the grass beneath his feet as he tries and tries again.

his screams are muffled, but not unheard when he goes as far as to rip chunks off and spit them out, only to pant, and pant, breathe heavily through his nose and push through swelling tears in his eyes. he goes at it again because he’s not ready for this possibility. he’s not and he’s desperate and he needed a sign now— ]

[Something is wrong. Eren doesn't respond, if anything growing more restless, more violent. Mikleo casts one more glance around before he sprints over. His chest tightens as he sees just how horribly Eren is mangling himself. What the hell is this? Does his power require a gallon of blood?

Either way he's not about to stand idly by and watch this happen. So he starts shouting, hoping he gets through.]

Eren! You have to stop!

[He reaches out to grab at Eren's elbow with both hands and pull his arm back, disregarding any danger or personal space. Eren's lost it.]

You're losing way too much blood for this. Come on!

Edited 2019-05-17 18:33 (UTC)

[ a warp of a yell only becomes more apparent to eren when it’s blaring into his ears, when a force is pulling against him. he stops, immediately at least, with no resistance once he realizes that it’s mikleo.

eren finally stops to look down at the mess in disbelief. his hands, mutilated and trembling as his lips do, as he breathes and narrows the sting away from his eyes— drip drip drip his blood goes against the grass like a leaking faucet. all he tastes is iron and something far more bitter. the quake is more apparent, the more he tries to take control of his breathing. eren inhales, hollow as he manages to swallow dry and part his lips.

it’s the realization that this was probably real now begins to sink, and he wasn’t ready for it. there were too many questions beyond that. the burn of missing flesh begins to sear, but something in his chest just . . . hurts a little bit more. it’s the lingering thought, the possibility, that now? they’ll never be free. ]

It’s not even healing.

[ the last word comes out as a squeak once his throat constricts. keep it together, eren tells himself. he’s gotten better at it, so much better— he’s not bawling, he doesn’t lash out, his whole being shakes under the pressure he’s putting up a fight to hold— but, even if it’s mild, his eyes still go pink and wet the more he blinks. ]

[Eren looks like hell. Aside from the obvious question of why the hell did Eren do that?, there was the matter of his bleeding and-- god, whatever mutilation he'd been doing, tearing himself apart. To Mikleo, easing the wounds was the most important thing right now-- that, and helping Eren calm down so he doesn't make this worse.

He's trembling like a leaf in the storm but at least he isn't pushing Mikleo away. Not caring if blood gets on his hands or or the white of his outfit, he reaches up and lays his pale, cool hands on either side of Eren's face.]

Eren, look at me.

[His amethyst eyes are firm, not scared. He's seen worse than this... much, much worse. He's had people die in his arms, and he isn't about to let anyone else self-destruct in front of him.]

It's going to be fine. I need you to listen very carefully. Do you think you can do that?

[He moves on regardless of the affirmative, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. Mikleo doesn't look away and he won't let Eren look away either. If there are tears, he doesn't mind them, he just tries to chase them away with his fingertips.]

Breathe in and hold to five, then breathe out and try to last to eight. Then we'll do it again. Breathe in-- one, two, three, four, five. Then out-- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...

[Mikleo closes his eyes. He doesn't know any healing spells, not yet, but he knows what he wants to do. He's had a few days' practice with the magic now, he knows what it feels like and sort of has a feeling on what he can do to shape it. It's nowhere near where he wants to be, where he used to be, but at least he's not helpless.

Anything but helpless.

He reaches deep inside of him, ignoring the sharp scent of blood in his nostrils and the gnawing feeling of dread in his chest.]

It isn't going to end like this.

[He feels the burning and reaches past it, reaches deep down with all his might, and he gives shape to his wish: heal him.]

Not for either of us.

[The blood gives his magic a certain potency. Normally such a small spell would barely heal a papercut, but the combination of blood and sheer will gives it an edge. Healing magic rushes out, knitting seared flesh, purifying the wounds, imparting a certain sense of renewal; it feels like a cool drink of water after a trek in the desert, like the breath of dew at dawn, like a lake in summer. Mikleo's hold on Eren slackens.]

Are you--

[Then he's hit with a wave of nastiness and nausea that is unfortunately familiar, and he can't help crumpling onto his knees.]

Edited (HOLY SHIT SORRY FOR THE EDITS, I NEED TO LEARN TO PROOFREAD) 2019-05-17 23:35 (UTC)

[ his eyes are wide as if it’d help to keep the watering at bay somehow, maybe they’d dry. when he blinks again, chilly touch to his cheek, a little less than ice but much too gentle to be entirely frigid, they stay wide. he’s listening, he doesn’t move beyond a small nod, but— so rigid a movement that it’d fail to sway any contact to begin with. he’s surprised he’s even being guided to breathe (who has ever done, directly, with him) but follows through with mikleo regardless, the erratic attempt getting better after his second. he’s on his own after the third and fourth, chest expanding and breathing through his nose, but it’s better.

eren’s at erect attention. maybe— he needed that. the reminder boosts his self discipline, natural to faulted every now and then but never all the time. the next time eren breathes, he nearly snorts; pulling in any loose emotion and composing what was lost.

he’s . . . always been grateful, for people who can do that at his worst times. less like a stick in a gale storm and more like a branch in a breeze now, eren nods again— but can’t help to nearly gasp at the magic being done to close his wound enough to stop the drip. what it leaves behind now is a dull ache, a refreshing patch that makes his next inhale nearly exuberant.

had it not been for the seraph dismounting in front of him, he wouldn’t have cut whatever he was thinking short. he’s quick to let his reflexes work, hooking his arm underneath mikleo’s arm to catch him, the other hand quick to steady. he’s getting him dirty with whatever was still on him. what eren feels at most where holes had been made only twinges, asking him to be mindful of its limits.

toktoktok, is the sound that hits the ground some distance away from them, but eren is yet again too absorbed to notice. ]

Mikleo— [ it wasn’t the healing he expected, or even wished for, but when that thought occurs to him, there’s a clamp in his chest. he tries to adjust him, tries to pull him back up by nudging his shoulder into him, and his arm ready to hook and hoist from behind his back. ] What did you do?

[ he shouldn’t be the one asking that one question, of all questions, but something was wrong. he either didn’t mean to do that or did too much of it, or something else. the worry, if not the gradually creasing features of culpability are digging into eren’s face like scars. ]

[Mikleo is small and light but he is obviously having trouble standing up. It's good that Eren's reasonably healed up, that sort of relief tugging on his lips even as he struggles to stay conscious. The world is spinning and everything feels like fire for a second, but he feels more grounded with Eren here. Something's wrong, though-- and it's not just Mikleo's complete lack of mana.]

I healed you, [he pants,] -- what does it look like?

[He winds his fingers into Eren's shirt to keep standing. He doesn't care how gross and bloody he gets.]

I might've... overdid it a little. But something doesn't feel... [He shakes his head and immediately regrets it.] D-- damn it, I can't stand up.

You—

[ hurt yourself. well. eren just did the same thing, even if it was somewhat of a necessary act. he went overboard after the third bite, and finds himself going quiet with pressed lips and shaking his head to himself in silent accordance. mikleo doesn’t have to say anything, eren already agrees. ]

You did . . . More than heal me.

[ but any gentle sway in his voice is etched with concern. he’d get to the rest in a moment, perhaps. the toktoktoktok gets louder— the canter of horse hooves, he’d recognize them anywhere, he’s lived with them for years. although, eren doesn’t pay them much attention just yet, a simple ah, wild horses passes through his thoughts almost flippantly when he sees the faraway figures of two black-coated fillies to focus more on mikleo. he’s heard of the feral horses who live beyond the wall, survive here with ease. they wouldn’t actively attack them if they let them be.

the pressure that sits on top of his heart goes ignored— he thinks it’s mikleo’s situation rather than anything else, or perhaps the spark he felt when his blood had been unknowingly used, and quickly gets to work. ]

Look— Drop your limbs, don’t try and force anything. [ he says it with an air and eyes that entreat mikleo to trust him. he’s got him, and coupled with eren’s almost unbelievable muscle mass, it’s like picking up a cup once he’s left to do it himself. once he has a hold on the other’s arms properly, eren shifts in front of him, places his arms around his neck, then bends his knees to pick mikleo’s legs up, hoist them between his arms and rest his tired body against the curve of his back. ]

Let me do that.

[ they just need a little adjusting, and he allows them some room, in the piggy-back, to do just that. the seraph was too weak to try and walk it out with a human crutch, he felt it. there’s no need to worry about eren, either; it’s seems as if he could carry even more. ]

Something gave it more power? I'm not-- not sure.

[He certainly isn't about to put up a fight. He feels bad for making Eren worry, but as far as he's concerned, fair is fair. He thought Eren would go into the clearing and try some incantations, try to summon some artes. He didn't think he'd start tearing his hands apart. Mikleo can hear the horses now, too, their hooves filling the silence. He drops his limbs as suggested and lifts his head, trying to get a look at whatever it is that's approaching.

He holds on as tight as he can-- and tighter, with some urgency, when he realizes what he's looking at. Eren's strength is incredible. They'll need it to get out of here.]

Eren--

[Pushing past the embarrassing realization he's piggybacking his way out of here, he pats Eren's shoulder and points furiously at the horses. They look like normal horses at first glance, but second glance? They're obviously turned. They're not corrupted to the point of being shambling dead things. Instead, they're more dangerous, and Mikleo is finding it hard to breathe.]

We need to go!

They’re just—

[ horses. just horses, he would say, as he gets his grip going and begins to step back into the direction they came. wild horses wouldn’t just . . . walk over them. they’d have to be domesticated. but they’re not wearing saddles, or equipment? they’re poorly taken care of, in fact.

eren double-takes, bringing his walk to a near standstill. the pressure in his chest drops into his gut, like an anchor, enough that it forces out a quiet gasp. they’re not all black, only in blotchy patches, their fur rattled and on end, their eyes and gums white like pearl, a strike against darkness and what’s worse— they ooze at the mouth. a murky, foul scented substance that shines like tar. the fillies kick and whine in a aggravated canter now, picking up their pace and separating to encircle them. their mouths bubble, they reek, and they kill the grass their hooves press into, wilting and drying away like a plague.

he doesn’t think, for another moment, to waste time waiting. the dreams he had comes to him again, his heart racing until its lodging into his throat and beating in his ears. infected. dead things. with his hold on mikleo secure, eren bolts, holding his breath to give his muscles that extra burst he needed to get an edge and get a quick one. shit shit shit shit shit— ]

Hold on! Shit—

[ dragging their hooves into the dirt and whipping their heads, the horses don’t enjoy their leave. they give chase. eren runs, and runs fast for a man carrying an extra body—

he’s just not a horse. ]

[As Eren takes in the sight of them, Mikleo's already scouting for escape options. Horses are still a fast land mammal. In a straight up race, there's no way that they can win. The stench is terrible and so is the feeling of indescribable pain and pressure in his chest. He wonders if Eren can feel it, too.

At the very least he can still hold on, even if he's exhausted, but he feels worse and worse the longer they're out here in the presence of the horses. One thing about horses, though, is that they're not good with difficult terrain. They'll have to slow down. There's some ruins at the edges here where the city used to stretch out, though Mikleo has to squint to make sure.]

We might be able to take cover over there! They can't make tight turns!

[Five Lords, he really hopes so. If he could run on his own then they might stand a better chance, but not like this... He's so damn useless right now and it's aggravating.]

[ the horses are in gallop now, with death to the plants in tow. he could not have said shit in his head more times than he did today. he could use a horse. he could use the fillies actually not chasing them, but there lied eren’s payment to making the mistake of a lifetime.

if mikleo can’t run with him, it’s his doing from the start.

but right now, all he thinks of is life and how two are in danger. eren zig zags to try and throw them off, inhaling another sharp, deep breath to give them another boost of speed, or at least, the very least, maintaining the speed he can. it’s not enough when the horse’s breath is nearly upon them, hot and frenzied to snap a bite out of their flagging clothes.

another jump, another twist to deter them, but he sees it. rubble that’s fallen and fuses with the plant life, and eren goes straight for it. ]

We just won’t be able to stop!! [ he says that as a warning that he’s not going to stick there. more could come, or, worse, they could trap themselves. eren’s body bends to jump, to weave through the structures and attempt to slip through the smaller cracks that fit them. his movements are desperate, his chest heaving now.

it’s worse when he turns sideways to force themselves through two pillars, and sees the shades slowing, but still following, clicking through the rocky terrain and jumping over the sharp curves of slopes, huffing to show their aversion but still too persistent to stop.

he has to do something. he has to do something he has to do something because he can’t even force a spark of magic out of him. he can’t run at this pace forever, they’d get caught. trampled. infected? dead. except, eren has always said one thing in the face of death and impossibility, no matter the odds. if he was about to go down, he’d never accept it. he’d fight on as if he’d make it through, because it is true the moment he chose to say not today. ]

We’re going to get back!!

[ we’re not dying a miserable death here. we’re going home. and so he does, at the end of a climb where a body of water used to fall into a tiny little cascade, perhaps made by human hands and long ago left to dry. you can call it desperation! you can call it the last human trump card, or eren’s last. horses— were still horses. it’s the last burst of quick thinking he has.

eren sharp turns toward the horses, hooks mikleo’s legs around his waist to free his hands— before throwing them up. he might not be bigger than them in stature, but he is by energy. he puts forth a violent cry, a yell fueled with so much savagery, he could convince one that he was about to eat them and not the other way around. one horse loses footing, slides into the other with startle—

and down they go, tangling into each other and falling into a gape. ]

have you ever heard of bad ideas

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