Okay so it’s been over a week and I still haven’t been able to form an opinion on the ending…I always find myself coming back to this one page though, for that one bottom middle panel where Mikasa’s just slumped against the tree looking so utterly defeated. Idk, there’s just something about this one image that’s so striking…something about how limp her body is, how bone-tired she looks. The emotions her posture alone (not even considering the speech bubbles) convey are so poignant that I felt compelled to put it into words.
Disclaimer: I’m not an EM shipper and I’ve never written ff before, so bear with me here as I attempt to write a fic snippet for the first time, haha. I want to see if I can polish this up and flesh it out further so that I can maybe post it on ao3…
Her arms hung limp at her sides. The backs of her hands rested gently on the grass, her palms facing upwards. Head lolling forwards, her chin softly grazed the faded fabric of her worn scarf. The familiar warmth the thin threads offered was comforting, a reminder of long faded promises and resolute green eyes.
I’ll wrap that around you
Her eyes drifted shut. The rough bark of the tree dug into her spine and the short grass itched the exposed skin of her calves. Her limbs were leaden from disuse after hours sitting atop the hill unmoving. The heaviness settled onto her shoulders, sinking slowly through the rest of her body and tugging on each tensed muscle and tired nerve-ending.
An all-consuming fatigue took over then, pushing all previously formed thoughts to the back of her mind first, and then out entirely.
The only thing she could think of now was how comforting it would be to sink deep into the lush earth beneath her, using her now purposeless limbs (there was no one left for them protect) to weave through the soil like the roots of a tree. She pictured sinking down into the ground first, then stretching endlessly towards the sky, branches reaching outwards in all directions. Steadfast and true, her branches would extend far enough and wide enough to provide him shelter and guard him against the frigid snowfalls of winter, unrelenting showers of spring and piercing rays of summer. Her dense foliage would shield him from the harsh winds, which came nearly all year-round now in the absence of towering walls. In autumn, she could drift, slowly, one leaf at a time, to his side.
She entertained the fantasy for a bit, imagining taking residence on this mound of earth for the remainder of her life (for eternity) and making her claim on this hill he laid buried on.
She allowed the idea to lull her for a fraction of a moment longer, losing herself in the sweet sweet promise of it, and then nudged the thought to the back of her mind all the same, making sure to tuck it gently away in the compartment she reserved solely for him.
Slowly, reluctantly, she opened her eyes, lifting her head in the process as well. Her neck complained at the movement, begging her to fall back to her previous position. A tear she hadn’t noticed earlier had made its way over the faded silver scar on her right cheekbone and down the apple of her cheek, trickling slowly now down the length of her neck and disappearing behind the soft folds of her scarf. She didn’t bother wiping it, choosing instead to focus on the twisting hues of violet and fuchsia above her in the sky.
While she’d been lost in her musings, the sun had found refuge behind the mountain, leaving behind fading streaks of amber and gold. A soft breeze had set in too, blowing through the worn threads of her scarf and tickling the sensitive skin of her throat. Carefully, she unfurled her legs and straightened her back, ignoring the screams from her aching muscles. Giving up her seated position by the stone, his stone, she stood up, slowly, and began to make her way down the hill.
