[ eren was a wanderer by default, with no true place to call home since wall maria’s first fall. there were never permanent stays— only different beds, quarters and sometimes prison cells. basements, he’s slept in castle basements. in precarious training conditions in the woods, in the rain. a roof was always better than that. honestly, there’s something natural about the way he changes locations. in more common sense, it really didn’t matter for him enough to warrant deeper conversation, but not because it wasn’t important.
he wanted, decided, to stay where mikleo would rather than the barracks or the hole he dug, and mikleo wants the same. it’s more than good enough as it is important for him to make a decision without second thoughts.
keep moving forward, he thinks, with a brief memory of his own grief in a different time, in a different situation, where all he could see were tears. a hand was held out to him, and a friend— well, once a friend, told him the same thing. keep moving forward. that’s all you can do.
but, instructions . . . right. eren grunts, grabbing what he can of the leeks to slice in the way he knows how (warning: it might not be the right way, but its functional). chopping next, and mind you he does spent some moments to smell the aroma. ah. he turns around enough to briefly point the knife. ]
You’ll see how hungry you are when you start eating.
[ he knows that feeling all too well. eren sort of cuts everything together though so now they’re just. a pile (he stares, for a moment, trying to assimilate). in which he puts everything in the goddamn pan, and looks at this magic stove like a mutant. he’ll figure it out. time to press every button and turn every knob.
. . .
he leans over, and very seriously, speaks to the stove. ]
no subject
he wanted, decided, to stay where mikleo would rather than the barracks or the hole he dug, and mikleo wants the same. it’s more than good enough as it is important for him to make a decision without second thoughts.
keep moving forward, he thinks, with a brief memory of his own grief in a different time, in a different situation, where all he could see were tears. a hand was held out to him, and a friend— well, once a friend, told him the same thing. keep moving forward. that’s all you can do.
but, instructions . . . right. eren grunts, grabbing what he can of the leeks to slice in the way he knows how (warning: it might not be the right way, but its functional). chopping next, and mind you he does spent some moments to smell the aroma. ah. he turns around enough to briefly point the knife. ]
You’ll see how hungry you are when you start eating.
[ he knows that feeling all too well. eren sort of cuts everything together though so now they’re just. a pile (he stares, for a moment, trying to assimilate). in which he puts everything in the goddamn pan, and looks at this magic stove like a mutant. he’ll figure it out. time to press every button and turn every knob.
. . .
he leans over, and very seriously, speaks to the stove. ]
Medium low heat.
[ please turn on. ]