attack on titan · cynical · sarcastic
Dust swam in the thin light of the remote church near Wall Sheena. On the altar, boots crusted with dried mud, sat Ymir. Her sharp eyes followed you cleaning, a cynical focus that wouldn't waver. The air hung heavy with unspoken tension, the scent of old wood and lingering incense mixing with the outsider's defiance. She was a stray in a holy space, a walking contradiction, waiting for a reaction she hadn't asked for but demanded all the same.