[ the words brought about a conflicting case that made eren’s heart wrench like it was about to be pulled into halves of halves instead of feeling integral. it was a cruel joke. he lived to fight, and fight, and fight because he wanted hope somewhere, hanging onto a false notion that he would one day see that sight of romanticized freedom. deep within him, what overlapped contradicted, and he knew that. he wanted to achieve his peak and never would. he would die a monster and a tragedy. in the end, what made him any different than a puppet on strings? the notion that he wanted something different? or the choice of believing instead of accepting? he was no better and possibly no worse.
his whole existence is based on a contradiction, and even now, he relives the words he spoke and feels contravening. the pressure is tight around his wrist— he tastes many things at that moment: a rising anger particular for rubies, frustration, (self)loathing, a hot, hot bubbling thing that screamed to be let out, or perhaps pull something out of what prodded plenty at him—
he’s in the same place as he’s recently always found himself: there was no one that possibly understood him more than itachi, no one that shared as close to each other’s nightmares as he had— but itachi continues to know so much about eren, yet eren feels he knows next to nothing despite sharing the in depth proximity. ]
It doesn’t feel any different than when I’m awake. I’d bet you’re not different. [ this. was always there. the silence began to grow uncomfortably, and so did eren’s hold, from pressed fingers to digging nails and leaving whites to hold his fire from popping. a dream, a dream, a dream— it doesn’t make sense. look at me says eren’s sudden yet short jerk of nibble hands, almost sickly. ] How do you know?
[No, he wouldn't be different. That much is true. Yet Itachi's eyes drift now, looking over the grave and the surrounding plain, noticing details a sleeper's ignorant mind might not have seen: blurred edges, smeared colors, incomplete lines and distorted shapes. He only knows because he has pulled the minds of countless others into worlds just like this, constructed out of intention alone. The machinations of an internal place where anything could be warped and changed.
Eren's nails are sharp in his skin, yanking his attention back like a thread. When he looks down, he can see them pressed in hard—so close to the scarred bitemark on his forearm. He finds himself staring at this longer.]
I have abilities that resemble it. Close to dreaming, but not exactly. In some ways it feels the same as reality. [Or so much that one would be convinced of its reality. He faces Eren directly, voice low and still quiet.] Do you want to wake up?
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his whole existence is based on a contradiction, and even now, he relives the words he spoke and feels contravening. the pressure is tight around his wrist— he tastes many things at that moment: a rising anger particular for rubies, frustration, (self)loathing, a hot, hot bubbling thing that screamed to be let out, or perhaps pull something out of what prodded plenty at him—
he’s in the same place as he’s recently always found himself: there was no one that possibly understood him more than itachi, no one that shared as close to each other’s nightmares as he had— but itachi continues to know so much about eren, yet eren feels he knows next to nothing despite sharing the in depth proximity. ]
It doesn’t feel any different than when I’m awake. I’d bet you’re not different. [ this. was always there. the silence began to grow uncomfortably, and so did eren’s hold, from pressed fingers to digging nails and leaving whites to hold his fire from popping. a dream, a dream, a dream— it doesn’t make sense. look at me says eren’s sudden yet short jerk of nibble hands, almost sickly. ] How do you know?
no subject
Eren's nails are sharp in his skin, yanking his attention back like a thread. When he looks down, he can see them pressed in hard—so close to the scarred bitemark on his forearm. He finds himself staring at this longer.]
I have abilities that resemble it. Close to dreaming, but not exactly. In some ways it feels the same as reality. [Or so much that one would be convinced of its reality. He faces Eren directly, voice low and still quiet.] Do you want to wake up?