[ Morning are reserved for the lovely training instructors back at Fort McCoy to squawk at him and pop blood vessels whilst screaming JAEGERBOMB. You can bet, at least, Eren gets to it as soon as he's free for the afternoon. He doesn't say anything about sobering up— he was in his right, even if Eren does wrinkle his nose to himself. Alcohol never went down right with him, not even from afar.
But he reads, and rereads, and sits back to let it soak in with the bulk of all the massive information he dug up yesterday. Ghosts— unlike the motionless skeleton of James Halliday, they were active and problematic. He wasn't a believer to start, but the option of believing or disbelieving in anything was thrown out the window twenty four hours ago. Reading this deepens even further the likely possibility of them being former Recollé citizens. His chest tightens and his stomach knots like chilled wires when eyes fall on Ryoji Mochizuki.
This is so much bigger than it appeared on the surface, larger than anything his own mind can conjure on its own. This was a problem far larger than he thought, and he thought it was something big.
Eren's never felt tragic and abrupt loss burn directly on his skin, but he's stood by the sidelines and taught of mindfulness. Pain is not a warm thing to look at. It hurts, and when he tries to think of it as a direct experience— he doesn't know how he'd react. He'd rather not think of it. There's something about it that makes him want to run from it, and mainly think that, instead of fearing death, maybe death should fear him. Why was he in the military now? To protect people.
He still needed to respond, but there aren't any condolences. Sorry doesn't bring anyone back and doesn't make it hurt less. Eren was always one to always look forward, with the past to drive him. ]
I'll help, in any and every way I can, to make sure all of this wasn't in vain.
no subject
But he reads, and rereads, and sits back to let it soak in with the bulk of all the massive information he dug up yesterday. Ghosts— unlike the motionless skeleton of James Halliday, they were active and problematic. He wasn't a believer to start, but the option of believing or disbelieving in anything was thrown out the window twenty four hours ago. Reading this deepens even further the likely possibility of them being former Recollé citizens. His chest tightens and his stomach knots like chilled wires when eyes fall on Ryoji Mochizuki.
This is so much bigger than it appeared on the surface, larger than anything his own mind can conjure on its own. This was a problem far larger than he thought, and he thought it was something big.
Eren's never felt tragic and abrupt loss burn directly on his skin, but he's stood by the sidelines and taught of mindfulness. Pain is not a warm thing to look at. It hurts, and when he tries to think of it as a direct experience— he doesn't know how he'd react. He'd rather not think of it. There's something about it that makes him want to run from it, and mainly think that, instead of fearing death, maybe death should fear him. Why was he in the military now? To protect people.
He still needed to respond, but there aren't any condolences. Sorry doesn't bring anyone back and doesn't make it hurt less. Eren was always one to always look forward, with the past to drive him. ]
I'll help, in any and every way I can, to make sure all of this wasn't in vain.