[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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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?