25: Fons Vitae Caritas

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The rising sun remains cloaked behind heavy clouds. Thunder is still distal, but that storm is nearing. This morning is bleaker than its predecessors, weighing down the nurse as she lay motionless in the attic. 

You're still on the filthy sleeping mat, staring at the brittle roof overhead. You've been awake for hours, maybe, but you haven't moved. There's no point in moving—there's no point in doing. Nothing is going to happen no matter what you do. 

You've strategized your own methods for returning to the Walls, but none are practical. The trip back would take days on foot, and Titans would lurk in the thick grasslands. Strategies to travel by night and hide by day fell through, as there's no reasonable way to keep yourself protected for hours at a time.

Plus, the weather won't permit any travel. Once that storm arrives, you're well and truly trapped until it subsides. Your original plan to keep waiting persists. 

No hope is stirred when you remind yourself of this plan. Waiting is hardly a strengthening motivation to reinvigorate your deteriorating psyche, and repeating it to yourself does nothing for your morale. You try to take your mind away from this dismal conclusion, but there's literally no activity to distract yourself with.

Settling on your one source of sanity, you crawl to the makeshift hole in the floorboards and shuffle down the ladder, stopping midway and hooking your thigh over one of the stake rungs. Hugging the column of the windmill with one arm, you exhale and look at your roommate.

Mutus is already waiting for you, sad to see his hostage.

"Good morning." You wave a somber hand, just as depressed as the beast. He says nothing, and you can't think of anything substantial to report to him.

"Every day is the same," you say. "I can hardly taste the bland rations anymore. It's just crunchy nothingness."

Mutus stares. His eyes yearn for you, as if consuming you would cure his permanent frown. 

"I'm bored. Aren't you bored of staring at me all day?"

No.

"I'm bored of talking to you. I'm bored, and sad. Loneliness does that."

He has nothing to say. He can't contribute anything; he's probably feeling a similar way. If Titans do feel anything, that is. 

"My mind is shot," you admit. "I can't think. Just—nothing going on up here. It sucks."

He grips the windowsill.

You sigh. "Whatever. I'm going back up. I'll—"

"GYAAHH!

Mutus screams as he throws his hands up and stumbles away from the window. You gasp, nearly slipping off your rung in shock as his shrill squeal stabs your ears. The Titan falls onto his back, spouting steam out of his demolished nape.

That sight is blocked by the victorious soldier that zooms into the windowsill. He perches on the stone ledge and you shriek upon the sight of him.

"Levi!"

He's glorious, wind sifting through his billowing hair and ruffling his pristine cloak. Bloodied blades are loaded into the hilts he grips expertly, freshly painted by the Titan he vanquished. His eyes are wide and desperate, falling upon the treasure he was searching for.

"Levi." Surging with overwhelming joy, you reach for him, begging him to come closer. Your body trembles against the column, losing its grip.

"You," is all he utters before leaping into the windmill, simultaneously sheathing his blades while firing wires at the interior walls of the mill. "You're alive!"

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