[ —that’s kind of how his captain drinks tea, for completely different reasons, he highly assumes (he’s heard rumors about levi breaking tea cups or something or other when holding the handle). it’s stills the dragon’s gaze enough to show through body language: it caught his attention and made his eyes fixate farther away for only a few seconds— thoughts and reminders. ]
They’re called Titans. [ hands setting the encircled tea cup down and farther out for space, eren gestures by holding his palms in opposite directions of each other. ] Only my race of people can turn into them— just mindless monsters that consume humans.
[ because that’s what they are, even if his tone holds the pinch of tired displeasure. facts are facts. ]
Except for the ones you saw. Those are conscious. There were supposed to be nine of them.
[Titans. This piece of information is satisfying, a name to a phenomenon, a frame of reference. So Eren is one of them, mindless enough to consume humans? He hadn't seemed that way when he fought. There seemed direction and intelligence, however base.
Still, looking the dragon over in another sweep of scrutiny—this was also someone who had slaughtered countless civilians in that dream.]
What was it that made them conscious? And you say "supposed to be." Were the others killed?
[Itachi does, finally, reach for one of those cookies. It gets dipped into the tea and brought to his mouth. He chews silently and thoroughly, mouth closed, before swallowing.]
[ two thousand years worth of history is condensed into only a few sentences; he allows a pause to settle, to search for a proper and quick way to explain without running his mouth, eren cants his head and reaches for a cookie as well. tongue first. ]
There used to be only one, they called her The Founder. [ when eren speaks— he does not speak with reverence or disdain. even when his tone is evenly held, there seems to be a touch of personal sympathy. ] Her power split apart after her people were forced to consume her by their Monarch.
[ it’s unclear if he’s demonstrating, or simply eating the way he usually does when he begins breaking the cookie in his hands apart into a few separate pieces. ]
Mindless titans do that instinctually, in hopes of eating a Shifter and changing back. A Shifter passes down their powers that way, [ eren shoulder raises, ] as a family lineage, or in a planned regime, [ finally, a piece or two are popped into his mouth, swallowed first before speaking, ] or they can be taken by force by another Shifter.
[ and that was why the warhammer titan had called him usurper. ]
[Forced to consume her, a phrase his mind lingers on as Eren goes on to answer what is likely a complicated question. Already he senses himself grasping at holes in an unknown narrative, simply because the context and history both run so deep. Itachi takes everything at face value, and listens, accepting what's said.
Dark eyes linger on the flicker of a tongue as that cookie is taken. The topic of conversation is set at such odds with the peace of their surroundings—the summer warmth, the tea, serenity in the idle cafe-chatter from inside and passersby on the street.]
Those titans are formidable foes in size alone. I expect they would wreak havoc in any setting where its people are unable to fight back. And the strength that you were capable of wielding in that battle was considerable. [What a bleak world. At least in his own, anyone has the potential to utilize chakra and defend themselves—technically—though some are at great advantage.
He hasn't forgotten those Eren killed in the dream. It simply isn't his place to evaluate any sort of judgment, at least outwardly. War... isn't that exactly what he witnessed?]
How long have you lived here in Aefenglom? By your transformation alone, it seems a length of time. You also behave... familiarly, with everything.
[ the cookies melted in his mouth, sugary and light— complete opposites when it came to his words, and he decides to take another hand at his tea to consume the taste with torrid spice. good. sensory chaos.
he uses a correct keyword, at least, and hums in agreement as the tea slides down his throat; unable to fight back. if they were trained or had the weaponry, well— it could splatter his greymatter across a city street. growing up with the training to fight them, as the young woman in his dreams wielding explosive spears and knowing exactly where to attack, was the very information to prove a human's capabilities even against a giant. but that was a parallel story; maybe, or maybe not, for another time. ]
It's been a little more than a year. [ transformation complete with only gradual escalation of what he already had— his scales earn newer colors depending on the emotion when once limited to two ranges. he gets the same headaches he did when his horns began to grow. his changed, digitigrade legs ache with growing pains closer to the heel joint when he rests, and the same went for his wings. his spines grow longer, thicker, and his senses more in tune. ] But time flows differently here, when the mirrors call you back. I arrived when I was sixteen, [ he shrugs a shoulder in estimation, ] seventeen at most. I'm twenty now.
[That length of time is nothing to disregard. Itachi's eyes level across the table, considering the weight of this information as it's given to him. His own return to his mug of tea is slower—savoring, tasting, analyzing.]
I see. A year, yet there's a leap of time in between where you aged in your own world. I wasn't aware that could happen. [It won't occur in his own case, Itachi suspects, unless it's possible to go backward. But that's a difficult possibility to imagine. Not one he necessary likes.] You did seem... different, in that memory. Not as you are now, and not only in appearance.
[Was Eren younger? He isn't certain simply due to his unfamiliarity with the dragon and the transformation itself.]
[ mm, at first, an actual grunt at most. there were a lot of factors that made his appearance seem different in comparison to being nineteen in liberio— he wasn't clean-shaven, he was rather disheveled and missing a shoe, living under a guise for nine months. he looked far older than he was through the tired grimness in his gaze alone. he was also . . . focused and detached to keep the afterthoughts at bay and the desolation even farther. had that been it, or was he looking to deep? ]
I've had time to think since then. [ maybe . . . that was it. both going through another handful of months in experience back and the times spent here. the question's true answer only follows after a pause to gather the aftertaste of spice from his gums to his lips. ] They don't compare.
[ it's actually peaceful and possibilities of life range farther, even with talam's problems. but there are solutions and a beautiful future waiting. that was talam though, and he's happy for talam. it's better than his, if it were true, but his home had beauty stolen. he had to take what he wanted to see back. ]
Even if I did— I can't stay here. Not yet. [ if that's how the afterlife works, which he knows plenty of friends who have already met their ends and have no home to return to, ] Is it different for you?
[ eren only considers asking because— it was a rather specific question. one he didn't mind answering, as hardly anything feels like it should be kept secret, truly, but. there are reasons for them. ]
[There's nothing truly shocking about that answer. Itachi eyes study the dragon for a moment longer, then turn down into the pale color of his tea, a green like young spring. The sweetness lingers on his tongue when he takes another sweet—a bit too strong. It dilutes the natural flavor, in his mind.
They don't compare. Eren's words are certain, coaxing his attention up from the tea.]
That isn't an unusual sentiment. Most places seem widely different from Geardagas, my own world among them, and our presence here is an interruption. We had little choice in it, after all.
[And more interesting is that 'not yet'. He wonders what it applies to, whether it suggests hopes for the future—for eventually. And him?]
All I have to return to is death. [A final statement, as certain as Eren's response.] That said, it's where I belong. Not in this realm. [Except perhaps as he may be useful to Sasuke; this he doesn't admit, mind still dwelling over it restlessly himself.] Staying here isn't a permanent option I'd wish to entertain.
[ at the same time— eren doesn’t know of what to think at the possibility of staying here permanently. he was well established, elders treated him like a grandson and he’s made more relationships than he could count. what would happen when he’d begin to age the way a dragon does? he’d last for centuries in comparison to his four lasting years of life. he’d outlast every witch and every monster if his health was intact.
sometimes he doesn’t know what he’d do with all that time to spare, and as self destructive as he was, he’d find a way to cut it short. it’s something he could . . . resonate with, if not feel completely undecided and restless with it himself.
itachi is not the first he has met who has already left the living; as far as “second chances” go, he’s understanding of the completed sentiment: that’s where i belong. the dragon, when affirming the taste of tea, also thinks himself undeserving of being here and starting again. when he’s gone, he should be gone (until he finds a proper reason to keep moving). ]
It’s saying something. I never had the habit of drinking tea in the first place before these. [ it’s just. that good. eren pushes his tea cup just an inch with his fingertips, ] If you’re curious.
[ the demon of all teas was good for burning everything out of one’s system. strong and unrelenting, a charge of energy, and one eren wouldn’t mind sharing even a drop. despite that and while he waits, he muses softly: ]
. . . We’re not far off from each other.
[ in terms of only having death to return to—? what a topic to bond over. ]
[By comparison, he's had plenty of experience drinking tea prior to this. It may in fact be one of his few passions in the world—and even that one mild, muted, a private pleasure.
When Eren nudges the cup with the tips of claws, dark eyes fall to it in consideration and the slightest edge of curiosity. It's not his preference... but, to some degree, perhaps the risk can be taken. So he reaches across, hooks an index through the teacup's handle, and drags it closer. Then he lifts it to his lips.
The brief taste—just a touch across his tongue and down his throat—causes Itachi's expression to pinch. The burn is almost overpowering. Assailing the senses, yet he also feels himself come awake; his pulse ticks a bit faster, for a moment.
He slides the cup back over.]
It is... invigorating. [A grimace.] It'd serve well as a draught for longer excursions outside the city, where focus and energy are needed.
[In fact, he may see if he can purchase some for just such a need. In case he ever needs to pull any dangerous all-nighters.]
Then you understand how it feels. [His tone lowers, slightly.] The temporary nature of this. [Itachi glances over to the street, as if meaning to include all of Aefenglom in one look.] ... I appreciate the conversation, nonetheless.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
They’re called Titans. [ hands setting the encircled tea cup down and farther out for space, eren gestures by holding his palms in opposite directions of each other. ] Only my race of people can turn into them— just mindless monsters that consume humans.
[ because that’s what they are, even if his tone holds the pinch of tired displeasure. facts are facts. ]
Except for the ones you saw. Those are conscious. There were supposed to be nine of them.
no subject
Still, looking the dragon over in another sweep of scrutiny—this was also someone who had slaughtered countless civilians in that dream.]
What was it that made them conscious? And you say "supposed to be." Were the others killed?
[Itachi does, finally, reach for one of those cookies. It gets dipped into the tea and brought to his mouth. He chews silently and thoroughly, mouth closed, before swallowing.]
cw for cannibalism
There used to be only one, they called her The Founder. [ when eren speaks— he does not speak with reverence or disdain. even when his tone is evenly held, there seems to be a touch of personal sympathy. ] Her power split apart after her people were forced to consume her by their Monarch.
[ it’s unclear if he’s demonstrating, or simply eating the way he usually does when he begins breaking the cookie in his hands apart into a few separate pieces. ]
Mindless titans do that instinctually, in hopes of eating a Shifter and changing back. A Shifter passes down their powers that way, [ eren shoulder raises, ] as a family lineage, or in a planned regime, [ finally, a piece or two are popped into his mouth, swallowed first before speaking, ] or they can be taken by force by another Shifter.
[ and that was why the warhammer titan had called him usurper. ]
There’re six, now.
no subject
Dark eyes linger on the flicker of a tongue as that cookie is taken. The topic of conversation is set at such odds with the peace of their surroundings—the summer warmth, the tea, serenity in the idle cafe-chatter from inside and passersby on the street.]
Those titans are formidable foes in size alone. I expect they would wreak havoc in any setting where its people are unable to fight back. And the strength that you were capable of wielding in that battle was considerable. [What a bleak world. At least in his own, anyone has the potential to utilize chakra and defend themselves—technically—though some are at great advantage.
He hasn't forgotten those Eren killed in the dream. It simply isn't his place to evaluate any sort of judgment, at least outwardly. War... isn't that exactly what he witnessed?]
How long have you lived here in Aefenglom? By your transformation alone, it seems a length of time. You also behave... familiarly, with everything.
no subject
he uses a correct keyword, at least, and hums in agreement as the tea slides down his throat; unable to fight back. if they were trained or had the weaponry, well— it could splatter his greymatter across a city street. growing up with the training to fight them, as the young woman in his dreams wielding explosive spears and knowing exactly where to attack, was the very information to prove a human's capabilities even against a giant. but that was a parallel story; maybe, or maybe not, for another time. ]
It's been a little more than a year. [ transformation complete with only gradual escalation of what he already had— his scales earn newer colors depending on the emotion when once limited to two ranges. he gets the same headaches he did when his horns began to grow. his changed, digitigrade legs ache with growing pains closer to the heel joint when he rests, and the same went for his wings. his spines grow longer, thicker, and his senses more in tune. ] But time flows differently here, when the mirrors call you back. I arrived when I was sixteen, [ he shrugs a shoulder in estimation, ] seventeen at most. I'm twenty now.
no subject
I see. A year, yet there's a leap of time in between where you aged in your own world. I wasn't aware that could happen. [It won't occur in his own case, Itachi suspects, unless it's possible to go backward. But that's a difficult possibility to imagine. Not one he necessary likes.] You did seem... different, in that memory. Not as you are now, and not only in appearance.
[Was Eren younger? He isn't certain simply due to his unfamiliarity with the dragon and the transformation itself.]
Do you prefer it? Being here as opposed to home.
no subject
I've had time to think since then. [ maybe . . . that was it. both going through another handful of months in experience back and the times spent here. the question's true answer only follows after a pause to gather the aftertaste of spice from his gums to his lips. ] They don't compare.
[ it's actually peaceful and possibilities of life range farther, even with talam's problems. but there are solutions and a beautiful future waiting. that was talam though, and he's happy for talam. it's better than his, if it were true, but his home had beauty stolen. he had to take what he wanted to see back. ]
Even if I did— I can't stay here. Not yet. [ if that's how the afterlife works, which he knows plenty of friends who have already met their ends and have no home to return to, ] Is it different for you?
[ eren only considers asking because— it was a rather specific question. one he didn't mind answering, as hardly anything feels like it should be kept secret, truly, but. there are reasons for them. ]
no subject
They don't compare. Eren's words are certain, coaxing his attention up from the tea.]
That isn't an unusual sentiment. Most places seem widely different from Geardagas, my own world among them, and our presence here is an interruption. We had little choice in it, after all.
[And more interesting is that 'not yet'. He wonders what it applies to, whether it suggests hopes for the future—for eventually. And him?]
All I have to return to is death. [A final statement, as certain as Eren's response.] That said, it's where I belong. Not in this realm. [Except perhaps as he may be useful to Sasuke; this he doesn't admit, mind still dwelling over it restlessly himself.] Staying here isn't a permanent option I'd wish to entertain.
[He takes another sip from the rim of the cup.]
... The tea here is surprisingly good.
no subject
sometimes he doesn’t know what he’d do with all that time to spare, and as self destructive as he was, he’d find a way to cut it short. it’s something he could . . . resonate with, if not feel completely undecided and restless with it himself.
itachi is not the first he has met who has already left the living; as far as “second chances” go, he’s understanding of the completed sentiment: that’s where i belong. the dragon, when affirming the taste of tea, also thinks himself undeserving of being here and starting again. when he’s gone, he should be gone (until he finds a proper reason to keep moving). ]
It’s saying something. I never had the habit of drinking tea in the first place before these. [ it’s just. that good. eren pushes his tea cup just an inch with his fingertips, ] If you’re curious.
[ the demon of all teas was good for burning everything out of one’s system. strong and unrelenting, a charge of energy, and one eren wouldn’t mind sharing even a drop. despite that and while he waits, he muses softly: ]
. . . We’re not far off from each other.
[ in terms of only having death to return to—? what a topic to bond over. ]
no subject
When Eren nudges the cup with the tips of claws, dark eyes fall to it in consideration and the slightest edge of curiosity. It's not his preference... but, to some degree, perhaps the risk can be taken. So he reaches across, hooks an index through the teacup's handle, and drags it closer. Then he lifts it to his lips.
The brief taste—just a touch across his tongue and down his throat—causes Itachi's expression to pinch. The burn is almost overpowering. Assailing the senses, yet he also feels himself come awake; his pulse ticks a bit faster, for a moment.
He slides the cup back over.]
It is... invigorating. [A grimace.] It'd serve well as a draught for longer excursions outside the city, where focus and energy are needed.
[In fact, he may see if he can purchase some for just such a need. In case he ever needs to pull any dangerous all-nighters.]
Then you understand how it feels. [His tone lowers, slightly.] The temporary nature of this. [Itachi glances over to the street, as if meaning to include all of Aefenglom in one look.] ... I appreciate the conversation, nonetheless.