Violence. It was violence, to command people’s hearts. It was violence, that’ll earn them another day of living. There’s no such thing as excessive violence, just as there's no such thing as pointless death. Pain, in whatever shape that was, all parts one would sacrifice for the sake of surviving, was no different than sacrificing a life for the sake of a cause. Levi wouldn’t make one suffer mindlessly, he wouldn’t cause pain for the hell of it, same as he didn’t forget a single soldier who lost their life on the field. Violence was a necessary means he wouldn’t back away from utilizing, to command fear or respect, to get the answers he searched for, to make those who sought to destroy him submit, and yet, for someone born and raised in violence, a victim of it, he hadn’t grown desensitized to its destructive effects.
I guess if I wanted to force an answer out of you, I'd just have to rip your nails off. Right?
❝ Not really. ❞ There was no response in his eyes, not a change in the way his heart beat, or his muscles tensed. Not any subtle signs of guilt or regret, not even sympathy for those who appeared as their victims — for this wasn’t the same as Stohess, lives destroyed in a war they never chose to be a part of. Not the words she spoke, not anything in the world could change where he stood, and the choice he had made many years ago. To survive at any cost, his life dedicated to the lives of others.
❝ There are more effective ways to break one’s spirit. ❞ There was no mockery in his tone either. ❝ Pain often is the least effective of all. ❞ How ridiculous was the human mind. ❝ In the end, what got him to speak was thinking he was betrayed by one of his own. ❞ How ridiculous, to mistake egotism ( a false sense of self-importance ) for loyalty. Loyal was the pastor, who gave his life for his ideals, not breaking even when his last moments were filled with agony. Ridiculous. Why doesn't she laugh? There was no real torture to inflict on his soul, no memory of physical pain would remain but the embarrassment of losing in a game of minds.
❝ Others can break just for firing a gun. ❞ Armin. Jean. Those kids. Children, forced into a senseless war for power. Picking up their pieces and sloppily putting themselves together again, for they couldn’t afford to stay behind. At first, they’d doubt his commands, they’d look at him with eyes full of terror, looking at someone they’d thought had lost his mind and was in charge of their lives. Eventually, they’d get an idea of what the world had always looked like in his eyes. Those kids seemed to understand. Why was it she refused to? Levi had never been the type to torture. It wasn't his idea, or to his liking. But he was prepared to get his hands dirty in order to protect those he was supposed to. Not only their lives, but their hearts. For the body would just be an empty shell, if the soul is crushed.
I am demanding more then just an explanation.
Why ask for an explanation from him? She could have asked Hange. Why was his opinion, the path he had chosen to walk on, of any worth to her? Why did she follow behind his steps? Why did she stray from the path she had taken herself? To understand what? Why did she so desperately, even in these trying times, want to SEE him? Demanded to let her see him— see through him. Demanded him to explain himself. But Levi had never made such a promise. Never wanted or tried to make himself transparent to anyone— carrying a darkness those in the upper ground could never understand.
Is your damn leash that tight .. that you lose your sanity, when your commander so much as yelps.
A dog. He had been associated with one countless times ever since Erwin became commander. The MPs had a habit of calling him one, but never to his face— they didn’t dare to be met with a dog that was certain to tear their throats. ❝ You got the wrong idea. ❞ Normally, he doesn’t mind the leash around his neck. His commander would have done it with much fewer broken bones and cut throats. It’s not his commander who drove him insane. Levi had always been a dog that’d kill and rage for his survival.
All of you are completely insane.
A cruel realization, it must be. But wasn’t it why she chose to leave in the first place? About time she left behind all romanticism left to what they represented. Are you insane? ❝ It seems I’m going for a record. ❞ How many times has he heard of the same thing in the span of the last few days? What made anyone believe he wasn’t? In which way had he managed to trick them into believing he had ever been sane? ❝ Does being sane get you anywhere in this maddening world? ❞ And yet he had become bitter than usual. Her words triggered a response in his eyes. In his eyes full of dark clouds, there was a storm growing strong. Her condemnation returned in full. Words unspoken linger in the air, a barely noticeable change in atmosphere. Words he wouldn’t admit, not to her, but most importantly himself.
How dare you criticize me? How dare you talk to me as if you were just anybody? For someone who claimed she was being unreasonable to demand this much of him, he demanded just as much from her. But then he speaks, and his words hide a vulnerability few got to witness. A confession.
❝ I'd rather be insane than return to a life of killing. ❞ Right. It was as if they had sent him back on the underground. As if they had taken from him the sky above their heads. Why was it, in these moments of fighting for his life, that he was reminded of that sickening dark place? Was it encountering Kenny? A figure connected to his past. Was it raising his blade to slice human flesh once more? His hands painted in blood that wouldn’t evaporate. Or was it being treated like a rat, forced to run and hide? Trapped with no escape. Instincts in him re-awakened, and suddenly he was back to being a mad man. He was mad, for having to fight his whole life to survive, for a sense of freedom, only to be forced into the same hellhole once more. ❝ I’m not dragging those children to this hell. ❞ He was mad, for his children would know the same madness he had been infected with, a kind none should ever know. The bottomless ugliness of the human soul— of those named their enemies, and that of their own selves.
You don't get to ignore me.
She hadn’t been ignored. Not ever. Only the matter she demanded an answer for.
Or are you really so damn desperate, to toss away everything on a chance. Do you even know what it is you're fighting for anymore. Because I sure as hell can't see it.
She couldn’t see what they fought for. Their purpose had never changed. This wasn’t another game for power, this wasn’t Erwin’s vision, nor why Levi fought. They were desperate for FREEDOM. But how to explain their sense of freedom to someone who had chosen confinement as an escape? Her sense of freedom resided elsewhere than theirs did. And she’d use her own means to achieve it. For that Levi didn’t look down on her. Never would.
So I guess we are different.
Oh. That’s right. They were different. After all, these could only be the words of someone who hadn’t been born in violence. Maybe, just for once, they were different. Maybe, he couldn’t see what she did, couldn’t understand what she spoke of, same way she couldn’t see or understand what he meant. He was a mad dog from the underground, and she was an aristocrat from Wall Sina. Levi should have expected such words. An action causes a reaction.
❝ I don’t have the luxury to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness. ❞ Even now, he refused to explain. Not because he didn't have the time, but simply because he didn’t want to. ❝ Let's get this over with. Make a choice. I won’t wait. ❞ He wouldn’t give her an explanation, for none of them knew what they were doing, yet they kept moving forward. Would she follow? Would she join his side? Could she throw herself into this hell blindly? Did she have that kind of dedication? Those were his terms. And it was her fault, she had made him this SELFISH. For she asked this much of him as well.
