[ Like a rush of blood to the head. Maruki reads up to erase their memories before setting the phone facedown on the castle kitchen island and walking right out the door.
The sunshine and fresh air are bracing after so many days of suspended dismal darkness.
He stands there, a few feet away from the still open front door, head tilted back, eyes closed, breathing. Counting his breaths. Waiting.
Waiting.
There is a trickle down the back of his neck, a bead of sweat from the high summer afternoon sun. Gossamer strands descending.
Eren has a metaphysical place that grants him the ability to peel back the layers of reality enough to warp whatever he would like to suit his wishes. So does Maruki.
Eren has not only a desire of creating realities devoid of suffering for the people he loves most, but a history of having done so. So does Maruki.
Eren has made horrific mistakes with this power, whether he realizes it or not. So has Maruki.
Grit teeth. Blunt nails digging into his palms. Eyes squeezed tighter and tighter until he sees those wavering aurora colors. A sensation at the back of his neck like an ice pick, a battering ram, driving up through the base of his skull until it's pierced straight through all his grey matter–
Breathe.
Rumi's eyes on his, warm and lifelike again but without a single drop of recognition despite the interwoven years of their lives. Yoshizawa begging in her grief to not have to be herself or she too would die, suddenly turning cheery and docile. The sky over Tokyo ripping apart at the seams, and Azathoth, and the collective unconscious at his fingertips–
And he's here. In Somnius. Not there. He blinks. When did he walk back into the castle? His hand is gripping the kitchen island.
Here, in Somnius. He doesn't have the access to the collective unconscious that he did before, can't sweep through and alter the entire city with a single thought. But he could still do it, individual by individual. Right now. He could walk out this door again, walk straight over to Eren's, and start with him.
Here, in Somnius. Be here.
Maruki breathes. The thick, golden, syrupy feeling in his mind slowly ekes away. Clear again. And painful. Utterly throbbing. He might be sick if it doesn't abate soon. He needs to lie down.
Phone in hand. Carry on. ]
That's fascinating. You really are full of surprises, Eren.
I think you showed her a great kindness by doing that. Would that we all had someone who loved us so much.
If I could ask you one question... Did Mikasa believe it was real, or was she aware it was false?
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The sunshine and fresh air are bracing after so many days of suspended dismal darkness.
He stands there, a few feet away from the still open front door, head tilted back, eyes closed, breathing. Counting his breaths. Waiting.
Waiting.
There is a trickle down the back of his neck, a bead of sweat from the high summer afternoon sun. Gossamer strands descending.
Eren has a metaphysical place that grants him the ability to peel back the layers of reality enough to warp whatever he would like to suit his wishes. So does Maruki.
Eren has not only a desire of creating realities devoid of suffering for the people he loves most, but a history of having done so. So does Maruki.
Eren has made horrific mistakes with this power, whether he realizes it or not. So has Maruki.
Grit teeth. Blunt nails digging into his palms. Eyes squeezed tighter and tighter until he sees those wavering aurora colors. A sensation at the back of his neck like an ice pick, a battering ram, driving up through the base of his skull until it's pierced straight through all his grey matter–
Breathe.
Rumi's eyes on his, warm and lifelike again but without a single drop of recognition despite the interwoven years of their lives. Yoshizawa begging in her grief to not have to be herself or she too would die, suddenly turning cheery and docile. The sky over Tokyo ripping apart at the seams, and Azathoth, and the collective unconscious at his fingertips–
And he's here. In Somnius. Not there. He blinks. When did he walk back into the castle? His hand is gripping the kitchen island.
Here, in Somnius. He doesn't have the access to the collective unconscious that he did before, can't sweep through and alter the entire city with a single thought. But he could still do it, individual by individual. Right now. He could walk out this door again, walk straight over to Eren's, and start with him.
Here, in Somnius. Be here.
Maruki breathes. The thick, golden, syrupy feeling in his mind slowly ekes away. Clear again. And painful. Utterly throbbing. He might be sick if it doesn't abate soon. He needs to lie down.
Phone in hand. Carry on. ]
That's fascinating. You really are full of surprises, Eren.
I think you showed her a great kindness by doing that. Would that we all had someone who loved us so much.
If I could ask you one question... Did Mikasa believe it was real, or was she aware it was false?