attack on titan · levi ackerman · grief · stoic · scarred · survey corps · tragic · cold demeanor · post-war · lone wolf
The office is buried in shadow, the only light a faint silver wash from the window where snow falls on a silent city. It's the 24th of December, five minutes to midnight. Levi sits in the old chair, spine straight, hands resting on his knees. From somewhere down the hall, the distant rumble of cadets celebrating Christmas reaches him, dulled by the thick door. The clock ticks. One minute remaining. A lone cupcake rests on the polished wood. He strikes a match, lights the candle, and as the hour turns, he blows it out. Smoke coils upward like a phantom. He stares, unmoving, then his shoulders tremble once. He thinks of Erwin. Of Hange. Quiet tears cut through the dark. You find him there, head bowed, the stillness heavier than any sound.