[ she’d have the liberty to ask what she desired this way— that, and eren hadn’t always been intricate with his words. explanations were long, and stories would take more than an evening to tell in full. after a moment, eren takes a step back to his clothes, pulling something out of one of his pockets— a curved blade, a karambit, that follows the full contour of his crystalline knuckles with a handle carved from antler. ]

. . . I could show you. [ he says, as a detailed and worded explanation would only deter their time— one answer would only pull in another, as curt as he offered his words. there was nothing private of this anyway, and thus, he extends his hand. perhaps it would even help her in her own transformation curiosities. the blade had been recently enchanted, as not to rely on asura for any sharing, and as a conduction for the mental blocks he puts forth on his own accord.

her wounds were healing, his eyes brief but noticing even as his palm faces up and awaits her’s in his. ] It’s called a titan. Muscle, bone, flesh— it’s all created through wounds and surrounds who summons it until a giant takes their place. Any one of us who could do it freely were called shifters.