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Literature Text
Erwin's POV:
Without the blood, the land was originally covered with white. It was like God himself pulled a wintry blanket over the Earth on a chilly night, or like the way one would put on a sweater when the weather grew nippy. But droplets of blood soaked in the sheets of ice, and the droplets grew into buckets.
It haunted me.
I hated snow.
The sky was red mixed with oil. It was as if an artist was painting, but unintentionally spilled inky paint over his masterpiece. Such a shame, I bitterly thought. It was a pretty color, but it somehow remained beautiful all the same... Remarkably beautiful.
Underneath the devastating heavens above was a town flung apart. Concrete and wooden homes tumbled and moaned. Blood streamed until it dried and crusted on the road, like chunks of bark endlessly floating in a river. Bodies of soldiers, women, and children were planted on the ground and seemed like they were permanently glued there.
Apart from everything else, I wanted to go home. Every man did, for we were drafted. Some men were quivering under the grasps of their weapons, and some men were sobbing and crying out for their mothers. I, for one, never thought of how to express my dismay and lament. Was I supposed to cry? Was I supposed to take my rage out on our enemy? Was I supposed to bottle my perturbation? Maybe I was already doing so without noticing?
Perhaps I didn't consist of those emotions. Or, rather so, I did not know how to familiarize myself with it.
I saw a young French girl; blonde and with skin as pale as a skeleton. Tears were frozen to her fallen face, howling at the limp bodies of her family. Despite her wails, she looked like she desperately wanted this nightmare to be all but a delusion, only for her to wake up and play with her dolls all over again. In hindsight, I saw it through her unchaste face. She was dying for it, willing to give her life up for a lifetime of warmth, safety, and comfort.
She continued to sob.
But it was also because her home did not continue to stand.
It was just as impaired as the rest of the town was: under a thick mass of rubble.
Night came, swishing and draping her black, stelliform gown to conceal the red sky with her beauty. But the scent of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air like incense; thousands of men burning like candles, and thousands of prayers sent from the hidden faces not attending war. I glanced up at the night sky, only to be greeted with flakes of ashes and overcast skies. I crinkled my nose; at least it wasn't snow.
It made me feel a little better.
The resonance of bombs and gunfire droned in my ear afterwards. They weren't too far off, I immediately assumed. But the explosions grew closer, as if they were growing near us instead of us towards them.
Yet, that was all I could hear now.
Guns. Bombs. Repeat.
I sometimes even forget the sound of my own voice.
I heard it again, but this time it was next to me. Below me. On me.
And before the blistering pain soared on my right arm, I saw a raven.
It whispered.
She was dressed in black, unlike the other nurses who were clad in blue and white. She was kneeled next to the bed, the back of her hand running up and down the sides of my cheek. She went unnoticed by others surrounding us. She was not scolded for coddling a wounded, insignificant soldier like me. I found myself glaring at her radiating symmetry, but my brain was too muddled with pain and morphine to realize my words soon spoken to her.
"What's a pretty little thing like you doin' by my side?"
She didn't respond, but instead twirled my hair around her digits.
"Where are you from?"
She laughed.
I groaned from pain. "At least I get to hear laughter from a beautiful girl before I die..."
The girl stopped stroking my hair and retracted her hand. "You won't die as of yet, Mr. Smith... But... soon."
I did not heed to her miniscule prophecy, but I was more curious on how she knew my name. "Since you know my name, shouldn't you tell me yours?" I croaked. "Or would you like for me to stick with 'pretty girl'?"
"I am flattered," she hummed. "but call me (Y/N). It is what they call me."
"Well, whoever they are, they did a fine job."
Morphine fogged my brain like morning mist. But it didn't stop me from listening to her last dispute.
"Humans are more interesting on the brink of death..."
I couldn't tell if it was day or night, cold or warm. I thought of (Y/N) as some sort of goddess, a guardian angel that was sent to retrieve me once I die. But it wasn't as I expected. She was quiet, her gaze longing, and curious digits tumbling along my body. If my brain were not so hazed with unruly thoughts, pain medication, and the bloom of the dark flower next to me, I would have been more vigilant of her and wring information from her.
I was limber, unable to move any muscle and remaining limb of my body - if I could remember if I had any or not. There she was next to me; (E/C) orbs parse in the vicinity of me. It seemed as if whenever she was next to me, the bustle of the hospital fell eerily silent.
I happily welcomed it.
"(Y/N)," I said. "Can you do me one last favor?"
She nodded.
"Check if it's snowing outside..."
She lifted the blinds of the window, eyes observing the outside of the godforsaken institution. It was likely my vision toying with me, playing crafty ruses on my brain, but a feather onyx of color cascaded down her dark gown.
"The snow ceased."
Another feather tickled my knuckles.
"Th-That's good..." I wheezed.
The feathers grew substantial in amount.
All I could see was black. But strikingly moderate with heat, and soft from feathers.
There was a raven.
It whispered.
"Erwin."
"Yes, pretty girl...?"
Without the blood, the land was originally covered with white. It was like God himself pulled a wintry blanket over the Earth on a chilly night, or like the way one would put on a sweater when the weather grew nippy. But droplets of blood soaked in the sheets of ice, and the droplets grew into buckets.
It haunted me.
I hated snow.
The sky was red mixed with oil. It was as if an artist was painting, but unintentionally spilled inky paint over his masterpiece. Such a shame, I bitterly thought. It was a pretty color, but it somehow remained beautiful all the same... Remarkably beautiful.
Underneath the devastating heavens above was a town flung apart. Concrete and wooden homes tumbled and moaned. Blood streamed until it dried and crusted on the road, like chunks of bark endlessly floating in a river. Bodies of soldiers, women, and children were planted on the ground and seemed like they were permanently glued there.
Apart from everything else, I wanted to go home. Every man did, for we were drafted. Some men were quivering under the grasps of their weapons, and some men were sobbing and crying out for their mothers. I, for one, never thought of how to express my dismay and lament. Was I supposed to cry? Was I supposed to take my rage out on our enemy? Was I supposed to bottle my perturbation? Maybe I was already doing so without noticing?
Perhaps I didn't consist of those emotions. Or, rather so, I did not know how to familiarize myself with it.
I saw a young French girl; blonde and with skin as pale as a skeleton. Tears were frozen to her fallen face, howling at the limp bodies of her family. Despite her wails, she looked like she desperately wanted this nightmare to be all but a delusion, only for her to wake up and play with her dolls all over again. In hindsight, I saw it through her unchaste face. She was dying for it, willing to give her life up for a lifetime of warmth, safety, and comfort.
She continued to sob.
But it was also because her home did not continue to stand.
It was just as impaired as the rest of the town was: under a thick mass of rubble.
Night came, swishing and draping her black, stelliform gown to conceal the red sky with her beauty. But the scent of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air like incense; thousands of men burning like candles, and thousands of prayers sent from the hidden faces not attending war. I glanced up at the night sky, only to be greeted with flakes of ashes and overcast skies. I crinkled my nose; at least it wasn't snow.
It made me feel a little better.
The resonance of bombs and gunfire droned in my ear afterwards. They weren't too far off, I immediately assumed. But the explosions grew closer, as if they were growing near us instead of us towards them.
Yet, that was all I could hear now.
Guns. Bombs. Repeat.
I sometimes even forget the sound of my own voice.
I heard it again, but this time it was next to me. Below me. On me.
And before the blistering pain soared on my right arm, I saw a raven.
It whispered.
She was dressed in black, unlike the other nurses who were clad in blue and white. She was kneeled next to the bed, the back of her hand running up and down the sides of my cheek. She went unnoticed by others surrounding us. She was not scolded for coddling a wounded, insignificant soldier like me. I found myself glaring at her radiating symmetry, but my brain was too muddled with pain and morphine to realize my words soon spoken to her.
"What's a pretty little thing like you doin' by my side?"
She didn't respond, but instead twirled my hair around her digits.
"Where are you from?"
She laughed.
I groaned from pain. "At least I get to hear laughter from a beautiful girl before I die..."
The girl stopped stroking my hair and retracted her hand. "You won't die as of yet, Mr. Smith... But... soon."
I did not heed to her miniscule prophecy, but I was more curious on how she knew my name. "Since you know my name, shouldn't you tell me yours?" I croaked. "Or would you like for me to stick with 'pretty girl'?"
"I am flattered," she hummed. "but call me (Y/N). It is what they call me."
"Well, whoever they are, they did a fine job."
Morphine fogged my brain like morning mist. But it didn't stop me from listening to her last dispute.
"Humans are more interesting on the brink of death..."
I couldn't tell if it was day or night, cold or warm. I thought of (Y/N) as some sort of goddess, a guardian angel that was sent to retrieve me once I die. But it wasn't as I expected. She was quiet, her gaze longing, and curious digits tumbling along my body. If my brain were not so hazed with unruly thoughts, pain medication, and the bloom of the dark flower next to me, I would have been more vigilant of her and wring information from her.
I was limber, unable to move any muscle and remaining limb of my body - if I could remember if I had any or not. There she was next to me; (E/C) orbs parse in the vicinity of me. It seemed as if whenever she was next to me, the bustle of the hospital fell eerily silent.
I happily welcomed it.
"(Y/N)," I said. "Can you do me one last favor?"
She nodded.
"Check if it's snowing outside..."
She lifted the blinds of the window, eyes observing the outside of the godforsaken institution. It was likely my vision toying with me, playing crafty ruses on my brain, but a feather onyx of color cascaded down her dark gown.
"The snow ceased."
Another feather tickled my knuckles.
"Th-That's good..." I wheezed.
The feathers grew substantial in amount.
All I could see was black. But strikingly moderate with heat, and soft from feathers.
There was a raven.
It whispered.
"Erwin."
"Yes, pretty girl...?"
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told you i'd upload something soon
i've had this little silly, cheesy idea in mind
it kinda ended up blah. i personally enjoyed the beginning, but the end is where i lost some motivation.
hope you like it, though. ;v;
i've had this little silly, cheesy idea in mind
it kinda ended up blah. i personally enjoyed the beginning, but the end is where i lost some motivation.
hope you like it, though. ;v;
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