[ Eren, of course, is unchanged. Time doesn't mean anything to him here. It's been decades. It's been minutes. No more titans, but he didn't quite release the power of the Founder when Ymir did. Time still spins out all at once, the past and future converged into something confusing.
He's been in hell since long before he died.
But he could only ever see the future as far as the Attack Titan could see, bits of the ending confused in the jumble of his own memories and thousands of years' worth of other people's memories. He and Armin made a promise, but…
He knows when he's not alone anymore (though there's some question about it, the ghosts and echoes of the past and future. Is he really alone? He's not always sure). But still, he knows.
He doesn't walk so much as just appears there, standing over Armin. Really, looming would be a better word, though he's the same height he was the last time they saw each other. He has the same half-careless hairstyle, wisps of hair framing his face. His eyes, green-blue tempests, glare down at Armin. His hands are in his pockets, balled into fists.
It wasn't meant to be this way. This wasn't what he wanted. It should be decades, and not just in the strange way time passes here. It hasn't been as long as it should. He just knows. ]
:')))))
He's been in hell since long before he died.
But he could only ever see the future as far as the Attack Titan could see, bits of the ending confused in the jumble of his own memories and thousands of years' worth of other people's memories. He and Armin made a promise, but…
He knows when he's not alone anymore (though there's some question about it, the ghosts and echoes of the past and future. Is he really alone? He's not always sure). But still, he knows.
He doesn't walk so much as just appears there, standing over Armin. Really, looming would be a better word, though he's the same height he was the last time they saw each other. He has the same half-careless hairstyle, wisps of hair framing his face. His eyes, green-blue tempests, glare down at Armin. His hands are in his pockets, balled into fists.
It wasn't meant to be this way. This wasn't what he wanted. It should be decades, and not just in the strange way time passes here. It hasn't been as long as it should. He just knows. ]
You're not supposed to be here.