[Incidentally, Eren’s sharkhunt isn’t wholly metaphorical—the stained ground is quite literal, and it’s not ooze. The creature “kicked” her pretty sharp.]
[Aubrey hears the warning; there’s barely time to act on it, but she just manages to dive and duck before the heatwave hits. She thought her death hallucinations might be a little more… not like monster fights on morning cartoons. It’s hard to register what’s going on, hard to recognize what she’s looking at, hard to breathe.]
[But she’d recognize Eren anywhere, by now—at least in human form, even with those lines. She thinks it’s blood.]
[Aubrey is on the ground, kneeling, hunched; one arm is still clutched around her gut like her life depends on it, and she hasn’t noticed but it’s still spilling red. The other is just barely supporting her, just so she doesn’t drop facefirst. She’s shaking uncontrollably, a wild, animal look in her eyes.]
W-Wh—[at the, she wants to say, and stabbing pain kicks in, making her breaths heavy, gritted, and she falls forward.]
[Eren reaches out to catch her before her face can hit the floor. The touch is uncharacteristically gentle. There's a practical reason, of course. He now knows that she has an open, bleeding wound, and on the abdomen no less. He needs to handle her carefully, or the bleeding will get worse, and fast.]
Aubrey. [His voice isn't loud, but it's firm, commanding attention. There's not an ounce of agitation to it, however. He's deadly calm, and more mild than Aubrey's probably ever seen him. Too bad she's not really in a state to appreciate that right now.]
Listen to me. I'm going to lie you on your back. Bend your knees and keep your feet flat on the floor.
[And he does this, gently lifting lifting her in such a way that he can ease her onto her back.]
Bend your knees, Aubrey. You can do it.
[If she's not able to get her legs up on her own, he'll move them himself - again, gentle. Next, he removes his coat, then his shirt. He moves her hands away from the wound, lifts her shirt up so the laceration is clear. He balls up his shirt and presses it against the wound with one hand, using the other to cover Aubrey's with his jacket, to keep her from going into shock.]
I'm going to apply pressure. It's going to hurt.
Stay calm. You'll be alright.
[Just as if he were talking to Conny, or Sasha, or any one of his comrades in the Survey Corps. It's a state that he shifts into without even thinking.
[There comes the slow, firm pressure on Aubrey's abdomen. He waits for the inevitable reaction.]
[Pain. Pain. Pain. That’s it. There’s barely room for coherent thought. It hurts to move hurts to breathe and it leaves her making aborted, strained noises with each every uneven inhale, exhale, inhale again.]
[He’s… talking to her. She registers that. She registers his hold, his tone, if not the specifics of what he’s saying or the motions he’s making. The impact doesn’t connect yet. Without thinking she tries to obey his command, some instinct reacting while her conscious brain flounders; it’s a sorry effort, but hell if she doesn’t try.]
[Despite all tension her hands go limp when grabbed, as if it’s a cue to finally give in, and they drop like lead when he lets go. Her head spins. With the pressure on her abdomen she sucks in sharply, teeth shut like cement, shuts her eyes.]
[It’s a miracle she doesn’t scream, if only because she doesn’t have the air. But she grabs out. One hand closes on something with a vicegrip. It’s flesh. (It’s Eren.) She’d cry if she had the breath. Tears flow anyway.]
[This isn't a good situation. Eren can stop bleeding on the outside, but if she's bleeding internally, then his obnoxious little problem is solved - for good.
[He's not going to let that happen. Not this time.
[He doesn't let up on the pressure, even as Aubrey gasps and whines under his hands. He's seen so many of his comrades be eaten, ripped apart, crushed into nothing but bloodstains on the street. There's something desensitizing about all that. It never gets less horrifying, no, but...there's just something more intimate about your hands going bloody trying to stop someone from dying.
[It's only a memory. Aubrey's blood hasn't seeped through his shirt - yet.]
Deep breaths, Aubrey. You need to fight. If you want to live, you need to fight.
[That gets through, and, much more faintly, the rest.]
[“Fight.”]
[She’s forced herself to do so much already. What’s a little more.]
[Aubrey focuses her eyes on Eren’s grim determination, and, still grabbing at his arm, his wrist, wherever she’s landed… she feels for his pulse, and makes herself keep breathing.]
[In spite of everything, Eren Jaeger is still a human being with a pulse in his wrists. His heartbeat, slightly elevated, drums against Aubrey's fingers. Her hands are clammy and cold.]
There you go...
[He speaks softly now, but he doesn't sound entirely unlike himself; his voice still doesn't betray any emotion, but it isn't cold either. Calm. Even. But not cold. Right now, he's a soldier out in the field, caring for a fallen comrade. In the urgency of the moment, this echo of compassion feels as easy as breathing...]
You'll be alright. Just keep breathing.
[The blood still hasn't soaked through his shirt yet...She hasn't succumbed to shock either, as far as he can tell. This could be working...
[There's a short breath, very nearly a laugh, but not at all like the others she's heard from him.]
It hurts like a bitch, I know.
[It's only a shadow of what he might have sounded like were he really sixteen, fighting alongside the other Scouts in the pursuit of freedom. But the sentiment is the same - soldier to soldier, commiserating as they ward off death together; another way of saying, "You'll be okay. We can laugh about this."]
[She’s still strained. But it’s got less to do with shock and more the sheer gravity of pain—which, as she breathes, unevenly but surely, starts to ebb. Still so, so much… but awareness falls, in pieces, back into place.]
[She’s here. Eren is here. Ba— That, that thing, it’s gone now. Eren is here. Aubrey is alive. Eren is here, Eren is talking to her, Eren—]
[Eren?]
[God, she’s so tired. This is the death-hallucination, right? Eren Jaeger, talking to her quietly, calmly? “You’ll be alright”? Ever so slightly, Aubrey’s eyes narrow, as they have so many times before, at him. But she can’t deny that steady thrum of his heartbeat, under her still-desperately-clinging fingers.]
[He… laughs?]
H—[nope nope nope ow ow no still hurts, still hurts like a bitch, never mind whatever bitter sound might’ve resembled a laugh. Aubrey’s hand on his wrist tightens, loosens, clenches again as that fresh wave of hell punishes her hubris—but even that, gradually, returns to baseline.]
[Eren can feel her gripping his wrist, loosening, gripping again, loosening. It's grounding, somehow. There's trust there. For a moment, he can immerse himself in his memory.
[Armin. Mikasa. Conny. Sasha. Even Jean...He'd let any of them hold onto him while they bled. He'd save any one of their lives.
[The thought spurs him in the side. He's thrust back into the present - back to reality, or whatever version of reality this universe can offer. Coldness creeps back into his expression, but Aubrey isn't out of the woods yet.]
[Imagine being stuck with Eren Jaeger at the end of the world.]
[Despite everything, when Eren’s expression also settles, back to his baseline distance, it… it’s disappointing. Maybe Aubrey really is seeing things, just a bit. Of course he’d never be warm.]
[But. Right. Focus.]
[Aubrey manages a small nod.] Y… yeah…? [And that, in breaths. Her teeth aren’t clenched anymore, though she suspects they will be shortly.... She doesn’t let go of his wrist.]
[Eren’s lucky that she doesn’t have the energy to question it. He wants her to do what, now? Play pretend really, really hard? God, what is this day…]
[But Aubrey… shuts her eyes, and plays pretend, really, really hard.]
[It’s not a specific room she pictures, but a couple distinct visuals come to mind anyway. The first: a yellow-green living room, flowers lining the windowsills; no bed, but there’s a couch, and maybe some sleeping bags and a pillow fort set up around it. And… hm, no, that’s bittersweet now. Maybe more bitter. Moving on—
[The other: bigger bedroom, and an even bigger pillow fort. That memory’s sad in its own way, but less… complicated, somehow. Brighter. The sun streams in, someone’s humming softly, and life is good.
[Seems she hasn’t shut out the ache of nostalgia just yet.]
[It might not affect the result of whatever Eren’s doing much, and bandages have barely factored in. But it’s nice, for the moment, to remember.]
[Eren closes his eyes. His hands are still tense, pressing his shirt firmly against the wound on Aubrey's abdomen; but is thoughts are of...
[Home. Shiganshina. His mother, cooking. Him, with a blanket around his shoulders, seated on the bench by the window, young and half-asleep. His father was a doctor; his bag sits on the table, waiting for him to return home. It's a safe place. An untouchable thing.
[Why...is he thinking of that now?
[The dark corridor walls collapse around them, leaving pitch black rubble in their place. Eren, now watching, witnesses it dissolve into steam like a rotting titan. The fog clears. They're in a room - a soldiers' barracks, but empty. In the center, where Aubrey now lies, still gripping Eren, there's a structure draped in blankets, a barracks-worth of pillows piled under the canopy. Aubrey is bleeding on them. Grisha's doctor's bag is at Eren's side.
[He takes a moment to check Aubrey's bleeding. It's slowed enough that he can take some of the pressure off - the bandages will do the rest. He opens Grisha's bag and removes a small bottle of antiseptic.]
[Reap what you’ve asked, Eren. He’s lucky, again, that Aubrey isn’t privy to his own memories, even more fragile.]
[In fact, she keeps her eyes closed even as the scene shifts. Is that the dream? Is this? Does it matter? The more she dwells on it, the more she wants to go back, and that threatens to hurt more than the physical wound. It’ll spill if she’s not careful.]
[Fortunately the sound of the bag, followed promptly by Eren’s voice again, has Aubrey looking around again, bleary.] Wh… wha—? [And then a fresh sting.]
[She groans, this time; an objective upgrade from earlier, and she breathes through it, but still.] G-god… you weren’t… kidding....
[Self-consciousness starts to gnaw at her—for not letting go, of all things, never mind the wound. But… Aubrey doesn’t want to let go yet.]
[There are no more words of comfort from Eren. At her pained hissing, he merely glances at her, then begins preparing the bandages again. But, to his credit, his usual outright cruelness seems to be about as present as his glimpse of kindness - not so at all.]
[Alright. Fine. Aubrey’s hand drops, finally, though it’s with less enthusiasm than she’d normally muster. Her grip feels really cold, now.]
[She glares at him, somewhat, but obeys anyway. Like hell if he’s gonna catch her whining about something simple as that. But again, Aubrey tries too much too fast, and although she does haul herself up it sends another bolt through her abdomen, and on instinct she grabs at it. Which also hurts, so she lets go of that, too, and it’s…]
[Well. It’s embarrassing.]
[Her gaze travels down to nothing in particular, resting on the medicine bag as she tries to catch her breath again.] What… was that…?
[When Aubrey rears up in pain, one of Eren’s hands, on instinct, comes to support her back. The other hovers over her hands, ready to move them if needed.
[It seems his protective streak hasn’t quite ended.
[He pulls his hands back after a moment, and answers dryly:]
[She doesn’t notice his hands until they’ve left. At his comment Aubrey manages an exhaled wheeze that kind of resembles a laugh. Which, surprise surprise, also hurts… good thing she doesn’t do that often.]
Genius. [There’s more of a sentence, before that, but it’s marginally safer to cut to the chase. Easier, really. She makes a nod at his hands.] That. [It’s a start.]
[He briefly follows her gaze to his hands. They're as smooth and pristine as ever. The wound from earlier is long gone. All that remains is some dried blood.]
The transformation, you mean.
[He says it more like a statement than a question.]
[The connection does not fully register to Aubrey (transformation of what, the thing or…? Her eyes on his hands is more incidental than anything), but it’s not like she hasn’t noticed his ritual un/clenching. So she nods.]
[As if on cue, Eren flexes his hand - clenching, unclenching, just like she's seen a million times now.]
Self-injury and intention trigger the transformation. What you saw was my Titan.
[He doesn't have the Founder's power here; no way to accomplish that without Zeke. Luckily, that didn't affect his ability to utilize the Attack and Warhammer Titans.]
[Aubrey saw a lot, sees the blood dried on his hands (whose?), but that detail stands out like the red streaks down his eyes. Maybe they’ve faded by now. She hasn’t met his eyes since sitting up.]
[The streaks on his eyes are slightly duller than they were before, but still present, running deep grooves in his skin.]
I was saving your life.
[As if to punctuate this, he lifts her shirt just slightly - just enough to expose the wound - and then, he starts wrapping the bandages gently around her torso, hands careful and precise.]
[Silently, he wraps her wound. It takes several minutes to do it properly - pin the bandages in place, ensure they're wrapped tightly enough, adjusting here and there for comfort. He doesn't speak the entire time.
[Finally, he pulls his hands away, begins putting things back into Grisha's bag. He doesn't look at her.]
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[Incidentally, Eren’s sharkhunt isn’t wholly metaphorical—the stained ground is quite literal, and it’s not ooze. The creature “kicked” her pretty sharp.]
[Aubrey hears the warning; there’s barely time to act on it, but she just manages to dive and duck before the heatwave hits. She thought her death hallucinations might be a little more… not like monster fights on morning cartoons. It’s hard to register what’s going on, hard to recognize what she’s looking at, hard to breathe.]
[But she’d recognize Eren anywhere, by now—at least in human form, even with those lines. She thinks it’s blood.]
[Aubrey is on the ground, kneeling, hunched; one arm is still clutched around her gut like her life depends on it, and she hasn’t noticed but it’s still spilling red. The other is just barely supporting her, just so she doesn’t drop facefirst. She’s shaking uncontrollably, a wild, animal look in her eyes.]
W-Wh—[at the, she wants to say, and stabbing pain kicks in, making her breaths heavy, gritted, and she falls forward.]
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Aubrey. [His voice isn't loud, but it's firm, commanding attention. There's not an ounce of agitation to it, however. He's deadly calm, and more mild than Aubrey's probably ever seen him. Too bad she's not really in a state to appreciate that right now.]
Listen to me. I'm going to lie you on your back. Bend your knees and keep your feet flat on the floor.
[And he does this, gently lifting lifting her in such a way that he can ease her onto her back.]
Bend your knees, Aubrey. You can do it.
[If she's not able to get her legs up on her own, he'll move them himself - again, gentle. Next, he removes his coat, then his shirt. He moves her hands away from the wound, lifts her shirt up so the laceration is clear. He balls up his shirt and presses it against the wound with one hand, using the other to cover Aubrey's with his jacket, to keep her from going into shock.]
I'm going to apply pressure. It's going to hurt.
Stay calm. You'll be alright.
[Just as if he were talking to Conny, or Sasha, or any one of his comrades in the Survey Corps. It's a state that he shifts into without even thinking.
[There comes the slow, firm pressure on Aubrey's abdomen. He waits for the inevitable reaction.]
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[Pain. Pain. Pain. That’s it. There’s barely room for coherent thought. It hurts to move hurts to breathe and it leaves her making aborted, strained noises with each every uneven inhale, exhale, inhale again.]
[He’s… talking to her. She registers that. She registers his hold, his tone, if not the specifics of what he’s saying or the motions he’s making. The impact doesn’t connect yet. Without thinking she tries to obey his command, some instinct reacting while her conscious brain flounders; it’s a sorry effort, but hell if she doesn’t try.]
[Despite all tension her hands go limp when grabbed, as if it’s a cue to finally give in, and they drop like lead when he lets go. Her head spins. With the pressure on her abdomen she sucks in sharply, teeth shut like cement, shuts her eyes.]
[It’s a miracle she doesn’t scream, if only because she doesn’t have the air. But she grabs out. One hand closes on something with a vicegrip. It’s flesh. (It’s Eren.) She’d cry if she had the breath. Tears flow anyway.]
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[He's not going to let that happen. Not this time.
[He doesn't let up on the pressure, even as Aubrey gasps and whines under his hands. He's seen so many of his comrades be eaten, ripped apart, crushed into nothing but bloodstains on the street. There's something desensitizing about all that. It never gets less horrifying, no, but...there's just something more intimate about your hands going bloody trying to stop someone from dying.
[It's only a memory. Aubrey's blood hasn't seeped through his shirt - yet.]
Deep breaths, Aubrey. You need to fight. If you want to live, you need to fight.
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[“Fight.”
[That gets through, and, much more faintly, the rest.]
[“Fight.”]
[She’s forced herself to do so much already. What’s a little more.]
[Aubrey focuses her eyes on Eren’s grim determination, and, still grabbing at his arm, his wrist, wherever she’s landed… she feels for his pulse, and makes herself keep breathing.]
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There you go...
[He speaks softly now, but he doesn't sound entirely unlike himself; his voice still doesn't betray any emotion, but it isn't cold either. Calm. Even. But not cold. Right now, he's a soldier out in the field, caring for a fallen comrade. In the urgency of the moment, this echo of compassion feels as easy as breathing...]
You'll be alright. Just keep breathing.
[The blood still hasn't soaked through his shirt yet...She hasn't succumbed to shock either, as far as he can tell. This could be working...
[There's a short breath, very nearly a laugh, but not at all like the others she's heard from him.]
It hurts like a bitch, I know.
[It's only a shadow of what he might have sounded like were he really sixteen, fighting alongside the other Scouts in the pursuit of freedom. But the sentiment is the same - soldier to soldier, commiserating as they ward off death together; another way of saying, "You'll be okay. We can laugh about this."]
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[She’s still strained. But it’s got less to do with shock and more the sheer gravity of pain—which, as she breathes, unevenly but surely, starts to ebb. Still so, so much… but awareness falls, in pieces, back into place.]
[She’s here. Eren is here. Ba— That, that thing, it’s gone now. Eren is here. Aubrey is alive. Eren is here, Eren is talking to her, Eren—]
[Eren?]
[God, she’s so tired. This is the death-hallucination, right? Eren Jaeger, talking to her quietly, calmly? “You’ll be alright”? Ever so slightly, Aubrey’s eyes narrow, as they have so many times before, at him. But she can’t deny that steady thrum of his heartbeat, under her still-desperately-clinging fingers.]
[He… laughs?]
H—[nope nope nope ow ow no still hurts, still hurts like a bitch, never mind whatever bitter sound might’ve resembled a laugh. Aubrey’s hand on his wrist tightens, loosens, clenches again as that fresh wave of hell punishes her hubris—but even that, gradually, returns to baseline.]
[She really did try, though.]
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[Armin. Mikasa. Conny. Sasha. Even Jean...He'd let any of them hold onto him while they bled. He'd save any one of their lives.
[The thought spurs him in the side. He's thrust back into the present - back to reality, or whatever version of reality this universe can offer. Coldness creeps back into his expression, but Aubrey isn't out of the woods yet.]
Can you focus?
I need your help now.
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[Hah… trust. Imagine.]
[Imagine being stuck with Eren Jaeger at the end of the world.]
[Despite everything, when Eren’s expression also settles, back to his baseline distance, it… it’s disappointing. Maybe Aubrey really is seeing things, just a bit. Of course he’d never be warm.]
[But. Right. Focus.]
[Aubrey manages a small nod.] Y… yeah…? [And that, in breaths. Her teeth aren’t clenched anymore, though she suspects they will be shortly.... She doesn’t let go of his wrist.]
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You need bandages. You need a bed. You need somewhere clean.
Visualize it. That's where we're going.
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[Eren’s lucky that she doesn’t have the energy to question it. He wants her to do what, now? Play pretend really, really hard? God, what is this day…]
[But Aubrey… shuts her eyes, and plays pretend, really, really hard.]
[It’s not a specific room she pictures, but a couple distinct visuals come to mind anyway. The first: a yellow-green living room, flowers lining the windowsills; no bed, but there’s a couch, and maybe some sleeping bags and a pillow fort set up around it. And… hm, no, that’s bittersweet now. Maybe more bitter. Moving on—
[The other: bigger bedroom, and an even bigger pillow fort. That memory’s sad in its own way, but less… complicated, somehow. Brighter. The sun streams in, someone’s humming softly, and life is good.
[Seems she hasn’t shut out the ache of nostalgia just yet.]
[It might not affect the result of whatever Eren’s doing much, and bandages have barely factored in. But it’s nice, for the moment, to remember.]
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[Home. Shiganshina. His mother, cooking. Him, with a blanket around his shoulders, seated on the bench by the window, young and half-asleep. His father was a doctor; his bag sits on the table, waiting for him to return home. It's a safe place. An untouchable thing.
[Why...is he thinking of that now?
[The dark corridor walls collapse around them, leaving pitch black rubble in their place. Eren, now watching, witnesses it dissolve into steam like a rotting titan. The fog clears. They're in a room - a soldiers' barracks, but empty. In the center, where Aubrey now lies, still gripping Eren, there's a structure draped in blankets, a barracks-worth of pillows piled under the canopy. Aubrey is bleeding on them. Grisha's doctor's bag is at Eren's side.
[He takes a moment to check Aubrey's bleeding. It's slowed enough that he can take some of the pressure off - the bandages will do the rest. He opens Grisha's bag and removes a small bottle of antiseptic.]
I'm going to dress your wound now.
This will sting.
[And he pours a small dash of it on the wound.]
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[Reap what you’ve asked, Eren. He’s lucky, again, that Aubrey isn’t privy to his own memories, even more fragile.]
[In fact, she keeps her eyes closed even as the scene shifts. Is that the dream? Is this? Does it matter? The more she dwells on it, the more she wants to go back, and that threatens to hurt more than the physical wound. It’ll spill if she’s not careful.]
[Fortunately the sound of the bag, followed promptly by Eren’s voice again, has Aubrey looking around again, bleary.] Wh… wha—? [And then a fresh sting.]
[She groans, this time; an objective upgrade from earlier, and she breathes through it, but still.] G-god… you weren’t… kidding....
[Self-consciousness starts to gnaw at her—for not letting go, of all things, never mind the wound. But… Aubrey doesn’t want to let go yet.]
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Sit up. You can.
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[Alright. Fine. Aubrey’s hand drops, finally, though it’s with less enthusiasm than she’d normally muster. Her grip feels really cold, now.]
[She glares at him, somewhat, but obeys anyway. Like hell if he’s gonna catch her whining about something simple as that. But again, Aubrey tries too much too fast, and although she does haul herself up it sends another bolt through her abdomen, and on instinct she grabs at it. Which also hurts, so she lets go of that, too, and it’s…]
[Well. It’s embarrassing.]
[Her gaze travels down to nothing in particular, resting on the medicine bag as she tries to catch her breath again.] What… was that…?
[There’s a lot of things that could be about.]
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[It seems his protective streak hasn’t quite ended.
[He pulls his hands back after a moment, and answers dryly:]
Antiseptic. I already told you.
[Possible that’s not what she’s asking.]
you know how it is
[She doesn’t notice his hands until they’ve left. At his comment Aubrey manages an exhaled wheeze that kind of resembles a laugh. Which, surprise surprise, also hurts… good thing she doesn’t do that often.]
Genius. [There’s more of a sentence, before that, but it’s marginally safer to cut to the chase. Easier, really. She makes a nod at his hands.] That. [It’s a start.]
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The transformation, you mean.
[He says it more like a statement than a question.]
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[The connection does not fully register to Aubrey (transformation of what, the thing or…? Her eyes on his hands is more incidental than anything), but it’s not like she hasn’t noticed his ritual un/clenching. So she nods.]
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Self-injury and intention trigger the transformation. What you saw was my Titan.
[He doesn't have the Founder's power here; no way to accomplish that without Zeke. Luckily, that didn't affect his ability to utilize the Attack and Warhammer Titans.]
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[Self-injury.]
[Aubrey saw a lot, sees the blood dried on his hands (whose?), but that detail stands out like the red streaks down his eyes. Maybe they’ve faded by now. She hasn’t met his eyes since sitting up.]
Why. [That’s all, really.]
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I was saving your life.
[As if to punctuate this, he lifts her shirt just slightly - just enough to expose the wound - and then, he starts wrapping the bandages gently around her torso, hands careful and precise.]
You should be thanking me.
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[A retort rises and dies in her throat.]
[His voice, as expected—not gentle. His hands, the wrapping—]
Why.
[More insistent. She doesn’t move.]
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[Finally, he pulls his hands away, begins putting things back into Grisha's bag. He doesn't look at her.]
I don't know.
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[It’s a long silence.]
[Aubrey wants to be somewhere else. The bandaging, adjusting, binds her here.]
[She doesn’t respond. Just breathing. Eren’s. Hers.]
[“I don’t know.”
[What a joke.]
Does that scare you?
[She doesn’t look at him, either.]
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an apt icon for how he's feeling rn
[aubrey voice] i won’t hesitate, bitch
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TW: heavy gore
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spawning a specific event headcanon effective immediately lesgooo
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