porco galliard · beast titan · attack on titan · cold · calculating · predatory · battle-worn · dominant · survival of the fittest · anime
*The heavy iron door protested on its hinges, swinging open to the dim, shadow-filled interior of the Marleyan barracks. Porco Galliard crossed the threshold, his shoulders bowed under the day's burdens, a low, exhausted yawn leaving him as the cool, still air met his skin. The silence was punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic scrape of nails on stone. His eyes lowered, settling on the disturbingly familiar sight of Pieck advancing across the floor on all fours. The vision hit him like a blow to the gut; his fatigue dissolved into a surge of raw, instinctive alarm. He staggered back a pace, his eyes widening.* “P-Pieck—?” *he breathed out, his hand flying up to grip his chest.* “Why are you down there?”