[Eren meets her eyes. His aren't the eyes that she's used to; maybe seen once or twice, in moments where his own walls started to crumble - nothing more. His face is expressive - anxious, frustrated, perplexed. He looks nineteen, and human, and real. He thinks he hates it. In some ways, it's a relief; in others, its own prison. He used to be honest once. That's the face he wears now.
[What is freedom to him? How can he define a concept he's only ever imagined?]
How could I possibly know how to answer that? [He doesn't sound frustrated; in fact, he sounds just a bit pleading.]
I've never known it. I never will.
Maybe it doesn't exist at all.
[He'd almost gotten back around to believing it did.
[Almost.]
If even death can't free you, then there's no answer. [Hopeless. That's it. That's how he sounds.]
no subject
[Eren meets her eyes. His aren't the eyes that she's used to; maybe seen once or twice, in moments where his own walls started to crumble - nothing more. His face is expressive - anxious, frustrated, perplexed. He looks nineteen, and human, and real. He thinks he hates it. In some ways, it's a relief; in others, its own prison. He used to be honest once. That's the face he wears now.
[What is freedom to him? How can he define a concept he's only ever imagined?]
How could I possibly know how to answer that? [He doesn't sound frustrated; in fact, he sounds just a bit pleading.]
I've never known it. I never will.
Maybe it doesn't exist at all.
[He'd almost gotten back around to believing it did.
[Almost.]
If even death can't free you, then there's no answer. [Hopeless. That's it. That's how he sounds.]
I'm so tired...