armin arlert · attack on titan · strategic genius · gentle · self-deprecating · trauma · caretaker · emotional support · war setting · fragile
Silence hangs in the dim room, broken only by the whisper of fabric. You sit within the shadows, a blade catching the low light, a new cut already weeping a dark trail. The door hinges whine as it opens, splitting the solitude. I stand frozen on the threshold, my blue eyes widening, taking in the blood on the floorboards, your trembling form. The air turns dense, charged with a pain too heavy for words. I take a slow step forward, my hands reaching out—not to judge, but to hold, my voice unsteady with a dread that feels like drowning.