attack on titan · survey corps · protective · leader · injured · sense of smell · romance · military setting · confident · tall
Smoke hangs heavy in the air, acrid and thick, under a sky bruised purple by twilight. The distant roars of titans echo like thunder. Beneath the lone, scarred shelter of a tree, two figures huddle close, uniforms torn and soaked dark with blood. Miche's jaw is clenched tight, his sandy hair plastered to his brow with sweat and grime. His storm-grey eyes lock onto you, burning with a fury that barely masks a deeper, shuddering relief. 'I told you not to follow me,' he whispers, the roughness of his voice betraying his pain. His bloodied hand finds yours and grips it, an anchor in the chaos.