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  • Puffin: Ian is cracking his knuckles. Nobody messes with Anka, not if he can help it!
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Author Topic: Dark Dreams Are Just My Memories (OPEN)  (Read 420 times)

Dark Dreams Are Just My Memories (OPEN)
« on: April 21, 2018, 11:44:39 PM »
(Year 845)

Several months into training an nothing had changed for the blonde boy yet. Nightmares still crawled their way into the abyss of his uneasy sleep, and he’d wake up in tears, some times he’d get sick in the middle of the night and have to run outside, sometimes waking up a fellow cadet or two as he stormed outside to not risk that sort of accident on the floor, cleaning that up in the middle of the night would be a nightmare, more so than the ones that haunted him. The boy’s bunker smelled bad enough as it was, he had to constantly pick lavender and shower with it, and keep some in his pocket and under his and Eren’s pillows so that the scent of musk and death didn’t travel with them everywhere. Luckily, no one really asked him about what made him sick, and Eren never woke up during those times to ask. His stomach was getting more used to it, so he doubted that little bit would be a problem much more, and for the past few days he had resolved to not sleeping at all, and instead staying up late, staring into the darkness of the cabin and listening to everyone else’s peaceful snores. if he didn’t sleep, then the nightmares couldn’t hurt him any longer...

He already had bags under his eyes, and seemed to stand out now at the lunch table in the mess hall with both Eren and Mikasa out doing their own things for classes. He was normally glued to one of their sides, but alas, today he sat alone, a bowl of soup and bread growing cold sat off to the side, and a journal in front of him was open to one of his first drawings in it. The ocean. A hastily done scribble from when he was little and had first gotten the red hard-back journal. It was just a set of palm trees, sand, and the ocean and clouds in the beyond, the only image of the ocean in the original book had been much like it, only much more professionally done. While his art skills were much better developed now, he hadn’t exactly been the world’s best when he was six. That being said, the details were very clear. He had thought of redrawing it... but looking at the image no longer brought a smile to his face. Instead it was just rubbing it in. He was further from the ocean than ever, stuck behind not only one wall now, but two.

His dream was further away, a light at the end of a forever stretching tunnel filled with obstacles and hurdles he had no idea on how to pass. He was stuck. He didn’t feel like really continuing anymore. What would Eren say to that? Probably call him a coward... weak... and he wouldn’t blame his friend for the critique either. He was all that. He was tired. As much as he hated the walls, and Shinganshina, and everything about the world he lived in, a large part of him just wanted to return home, safe in his grandfather’s arms, flipping through that book about the outside like he always did. That was all gone. Taken from him. The only thing left to do would be to keep walking down the tunnel. Struggle over the obstacles. Hope to reach the other side.

Slowly he reached over and took a nibble of bread, shutting his book gently and letting out a shaky sigh. Why couldn’t time go faster?

Re: Dark Dreams Are Just My Memories (OPEN)
« Reply #1 on: April 22, 2018, 07:38:00 AM »
Bertholdt had thought that he would get used to the training after a month or two, but every day seemed as grueling as the last. Even though he slept like a log, he still felt tired each morning. He wasn't one to get up quickly in the morning and the weariness usually lingered until midday.

Lunch usually perked him up, but Bertholdt could tell that today was just going to be one of those days. His eyes swept over the mess hall, looking for a place to eat. Reiner was sitting at a table in the corner. It was full. No wonder, he's so popular... Bert couldn't decide whether the nagging feeling in his stomach was jealousy or apprehension. He didn't feel like interrupting that only to hang around awkwardly, so he'd have to sit somewhere else today.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the empty seat across from Armin. They knew each other casually: it was hard not to notice Armin as the top of the class and best friend of that loudmouth Eren. Armin always seemed to have something happening behind his blue eyes and Bert always wondered about it: today, however, his eyes just looked dead. Somewhat apprehensive, Bertholdt sat down and absentmindedly stirred his soup. As always, it was bland in taste and appearance.

His eyes drifted over to the journal on top of the table. On the page was a drawing of something. It was easy enough to recognize, but he was still too tired to think it was something that shouldn't be known, so he didn't think anything of it.

"That's really good," Bertholdt said after swallowing a bite of bread. "Oh, um... Is it okay to sit here? Are you saving these seats?"


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