[ Mikasa remembers the conch shell. It had been clean, save for droplets of water and specks of sand, when Armin brought it up for them to see; his eyes had a spark in them then, like sunlight dancing off the surface of the sea. She wonders when it dimmed; was it when some part of him died on that roof or much, much later. ]
[ Now it looks like something out of a nightmare, out of a titan's stomach, out of the toxic sludge left in the wake of trampling colossals. When did it get like this?.. ]
[ She doesn't flinch nor drop it; she merely holds it, contemplative, as Armin claims ownership. If this is in some way the burden of guilt he now carries, she'd like to share it. It's not like her own hands are clean. ]
...I'm sorry, too.
[ Her own guilt is somewhere else, trapped between the things that never were and the things that could have been. If only things had played out a little different. ]
[ She opens her fingers, letting the seashell sit on her now bloodied palm; he can easily take it if he wants to, or he can let her hold it a little longer. ]
rare items, a)
[ Now it looks like something out of a nightmare, out of a titan's stomach, out of the toxic sludge left in the wake of trampling colossals. When did it get like this?.. ]
[ She doesn't flinch nor drop it; she merely holds it, contemplative, as Armin claims ownership. If this is in some way the burden of guilt he now carries, she'd like to share it. It's not like her own hands are clean. ]
...I'm sorry, too.
[ Her own guilt is somewhere else, trapped between the things that never were and the things that could have been. If only things had played out a little different. ]
[ She opens her fingers, letting the seashell sit on her now bloodied palm; he can easily take it if he wants to, or he can let her hold it a little longer. ]