Save yourself, Aubrey. Armin loves swimming.
[Armin loves swimming. He can swim. Right. They’re just playing, it’s fine.]
[There’s an off-beat hesitation before Aubrey takes Armin’s hand, and her grip’s a little tight when she does; is it just that she stunned herself or is he kind of… warm? It stops her from jerking back on some wild instinct, and thus Aubrey is pulled into the downpour.]
God, we’re never gonna dry off at this rate.... [Her laugh’s a bit subdued now, but she appreciates Armin’s grin. A lot. Aubrey leans down too, though she splashes herself quickly before returning fire. The margin’s small enough, and her aim’s for Armin’s face, so he might not notice.]
Shelf: 1. Armin: 0.
[Said with a "good job, idiot" sort of tone.]
[The second Armin slips Aubrey grabs for him; too slow. She’s barely processed the gash when his skin starts steaming; it leaves her standing with one hand frozen in railed outreach, stunned silent, as the titan-people banter.]
[Armin?!]
[Aubrey catches herself staring. Which she’s done plenty of times before, but it feels rude with Armin of all people. She steps back, more awkward than anything. What was it Eren said, about the titan power? Something about Eldians, circumstances…?
[The clouds she’s spawned dissolve, gradually.] That looked painful. [If Armin’s not in the mood to talk about it, fine; Aubrey just wants an excuse if he noticed that she’s taking note.]
[Two people, equally horrified by the same world; it's just that one actually comes from that world. What does that say about Eren? Plenty, really.
[He observes the interaction, saving any interjection for the time being.
[It's not like he doesn't get it. Fuck, if he doesn't get it. And Armin's never been as good at steeling himself as Eren has. It's been much harder for him to come to terms with it - being a monster, that is.]
[Aubrey’s frowning, too—out of a badly-masked concern, and she gives up trying to hide it at Armin’s response.]
Wait, no, you don’t need to be sorry. [She’s tempted to reach out, but Armin hasn’t been super receptive to that (not denying, but she hasn’t noticed him liking it), so she keeps her hands back. Her arms would be loosely folded if it didn’t feel weird with the wet fabric.] It just… surprised me.
[Aubrey stands with. At the mention of Armin not knowing what she knows, she glances Eren’s way; it’s not as though most of what he’s told her has seemed like a monumental secret, not to mention that memory on the screen…
[Still. She’s seen more than Armin might expect. And he doesn’t need to be freaked out (surprised, caught off guard, who knows how he’d react) by any near-death stories.]
[Aubrey picks her words carefully.] Eren’s told me about the titans, and that people can turn into them… [In a token effort at casualness, she takes off her jacket and starts wringing it out. Still weird to her that the handprint didn’t stick, but it’s for the best....] You must be one who can control it.
[Pretending to examine her jacket (and thus not meeting his eyes), with this one:] I’ve been surprised by worse.
[Aubrey notices the setting shift immediately. Armin sounds distant. Wait, no, not him—!
[She tries to call his name; maybe the world silences her, maybe Armin doesn’t hear, maybe she doesn’t manage that at all. The rooftops are a deja vu; during the memory-video of course Aubrey saw them, but they were hardly in focus. Likewise, she’s barely connected those dots when Armin speaks again—and he doesn’t seem to want to.]
[Aubrey kneels down by him immediately.] Armin— Armin, hey. [She moves to shake his shoulder, too, if he doesn’t flinch at the reach.] Look at me. You don’t have t— Are you being forced to talk? [Shit. Shit. Detachment gnaws at her resolve; she swings it away, for the moment.]
[Great.] It’s— it’s this world doing its thing again. [She doesn’t mean to sound dismissive, but. God damn it.] I haven’t been able to resist, but… I think you just have to ride it out.
You’ll be okay.... [Or so Aubrey hopes. No titans through the fog, that she can see… and no Eren, either. But Armin’s in distress right now, and she focuses back on him. Gives his shoulder a squeeze, too. Her other hand, hidden by her side, is clenched tight.]
It's horrifying, isn't it?
[Bertholdt Hoover sits with long legs bent at the knee against his chest. His arms are wrapped around them. He's not looking at Aubrey, but he is talking to her.]
I don't blame him for what he did. How could I?
I only got what was coming to me.
[Armin continues to cry beside them, curling up in a ball on the roof; but the sounds he's making become muffled, as if he were encased in glass. He doesn't respond at all to Bertholdt. He doesn't seem to be aware of his presence at all. If Aubrey interacts with him, he won't respond to that either.]
[It’s strange, hearing the confession without an equal compulsion. Belatedly the actual content of Armin’s words starts to settle in. But he can’t be the same as that mindless, grinning oaf—he’s here, clearly remorseful…]
[Before Aubrey can think of what to say, or if she even wants to speak at all, a new voice. Armin curls. She angles her arm around him, as if in defense—but this isn’t a faceless shadow-person, and he sounds nothing if not sad.]
Bertholdt…? [Her eyes are narrowed at him, but she doesn’t quite sound cautious. Of course it’s Bertholdt. But how…?]
[He curls in a little more tightly on himself.]
My reputation precedes me, I guess.
[One would think this chain of devouring and destruction might be taking center stage. But instead…]
You’re dead.
How are you here?
[He still isn't looking at her.]
I don't remember how I got here. I'm not even sure what "here" is.
Sorry.
[She’s talking to a ghost.]
[Disquieting.]
It’s a memory… or at least part of one.
[With a glance down to Armin.] Strange world....
[Another look to Armin. She’s in no position to blame anyone for being caught in their own grief and guilt… but....]
[Okay. Trying to meet Bertholdt’s eyes again, then.]
It’s yours. And I think it’s Armin’s, too—and not just because of. what happened....
Whatever this place is… it toys with us. [Frustrating....]
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