What You Sew || Closed
It was something that Hanji had done for years and, despite the protests that the few who knew gave, it was something the redhead was not willing to give up.
It came with a price this time, though.
It was nearly time for curfew and most had already slid off into their bunks, ready to rest after a long day of drills. Hanji slipped back inside, cloak pulled tightly over arm and torso, moving with purpose and quick stride. One quick duck into the storage room and then off to bed.
Once tucked away, the cloak came off, and the damage was easily visible. A long, twisting slice left the shirt sleeve in tatters, the flesh below cut deep enough to bleed.
And bleed it had.
Wetting a washcloth in the basin, the veteran began to press the wound, trying to see the full extent of the damage. It hurt twice as much as the rough cloth touched the edges of the cut, but the chance of grease in the wound was great. Hanji braced against the pain, the softest keening sound of pain escaping between grit teeth.
Stupid. Careless. You deserved this one.
It needed to be cleaned. It needed to be stitched. Erwin needed to not find out. He couldn't have stupid shit liek this one his watch if he was going to be commander. This was something that needed to be dealt with. This was something Hanji would do alone.



















