𝐸𝑊. ┊ 𝐿𝐸𝑉𝐼 𝐴𝐶𝐾𝐸𝑅𝑀𝐴𝑁

𝖳𝖧𝖱𝖤𝖤 - 𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖣𝖲

𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 ( 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 )

ఌ

Y/N hated the smell of corpses. She usually had to deal with them, being called numerous times to determine causes of death and such, but she hated it.
The air was polluted, crowded with a smell of dread and cries, regret, and more. Raising her mask onto her face, Y/N walked along the streets of Trost, Nathan and a cadet she'd already forgotten the name of accompanying her. The cadet was in charge of making sure the L/N team didn't run away, which sorta pissed her off.

Despite that, she was relieved to be given a job, seeing as she was not under someone else's control and feared she'd be placed in a cell like the titan-shifting boy they'd captured earlier.
Eren, she believed his name to be, which had sparked a memory from many years ago.
"I'll be down this street, ok?" Nathan patted her shoulder, "Call out if you need me."
Nodding, she continued down the piled street, holding her breath before coming upon a tall male who looked to be just as still as the bodies before him. He appeared like a ghost, pale and unearthly.
She followed his stoic eyes, looking down at a corpse that was decayed and torn apart.
"Were they a friend?" Y/N asked, lowering her mask to present a friendlier face.
"Yeah," was all she got in reply, his eyes fixed on the split corpse. The other half was gone, missing somewhere unknown. This boy beside her was missing a piece of himself as well.
"What's his name?"
Silence was common, but he reluctantly answered.
"Marco Bott."

She didn't immediately write it, instead, she stood beside Marco's friend in a bitter quiet. Y/N could not grow weary in such distaste.
"I hope things will be better in the future," she said, making him finally turn his head. "Then you young people wouldn't have to look at such things."
Marco's friend watched the ashes fall upon her hair, a knowing look in her own eyes that wasn't dread, but instead hope despite all they'd seen.
"I do too."
"Then let's not waste away the present, yes?"
He watched her pull a pen from her coat's pocket before shaking her head, getting out a different one.
She carefully wrote his friend's name, finalizing that he'd never hear his voice again. The past was gone with the last stroke of ink. Now all that remained was his answer, "yes."