lostcauses-noregrets:peach-oniisan:“What is victory to the lone survivor?” Collecting
lostcauses-noregrets:peach-oniisan: “What is victory to the lone survivor?” Collecting sights and stories, he tells himself, as he carries on breathing. For the lover he’s meant to reunite with one day, the one who missed his chance to see the world. Thank you dear @peach-oniisan for sharing your beautiful art with us and for sharing these words with me. He never expected to live. It’s not how it was supposed to happen, living on in a world without Erwin in it. But live he does. And he goes on living. All the strength he once put into fighting he puts into living, to seeing as much of the world as he can. He owes it to Erwin. To see, to witness, to experience everything he could not. It’s the very least he can do; to let Erwin see the new world, the world he had always dreamed of, through his eyes. He talks as he climbs. It’s a habit he’s never managed to break; talking to Erwin. He talks to him just the same way he always did, but quietly. Erwin is sleeping now after all. He doesn’t want to disturb his rest. It doesn’t stop him grumbling as he lugs his pack up the mountain though. “If you hadn’t gone and fucking died you could have helped me carry this shit up here. I’m not as young as I used to be you know.”It’s true. He’s older of course, his leg aches terribly and his hair is shot through with silver. The old cloak is still on his back; it’s faded now, weathered to grey, the wings of freedom barely discernible, but they’re still there. Those wings are real, no one can take them away from him.The moon has risen by the time he reaches the summit, a silver sickle hanging among pinprick stars. The sun has set but the last rays reflect off the peaks in roses and pinks and blues, the valley below shrouded in purple shadows that gather to black beneath the pines. It takes him a long moment to catch his breath. “Hey,” he murmurs as he gazes out across the valley, “look at this shit old man.” -- source link
#sobbing