For centuries, humanity have lived in ignorance behind the safety of their Walls, nearly oblivious to the roaming giants that wanted nothing more than to devour them. But even without the threat of titans, there was still conflict within the confine...
A young boy let out a scream of pain as he was met with a debilitating kick to the face which knocked him into a dark, damp and miserable room. The poor youth wore nothing but rags which barely covered his body. Alongside being near naked, the boy had short black hair with white tips which reached down to his shoulders and the most easily recognisable features, a black wing with holes that came out of the right side of his back and a black hand and claws on his right hand, covered with what looked like extremely hard scales of a kind.
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Despite his strange appearance, he was a kind and gentle boy. Or at least, he tried his best to be one. For his appearance, he was considered a Demon of a kind. After all, what kind of human has wings? Many doctors have wanted to try their hand at dissecting him, but all it took to stop them was one man. A doctor who single-handedly cured a plague that saved thousands of lives. And it was this very same man who adopted the young boy after his parents were found dead in an alley.
While the doctor, Grisha Yeager, was happy to take the boy in, the rest of his family were not so keen. Especially Grisha's wife and son, Carla and Eren.
Speaking of Eren... He was stood in the doorway, eyeing the one winged boy with disgust.
Eren: You can rot in here for the night. You really need to pull your own weight around here.
Boy: I...
Eren: Hey! I didn't say you could talk back!
Marching into the room, Eren grabbed the boy by the back of his head, raising his head up to reveal two different coloured eyes. The boy's left eye was a crystal blue colour and a complete opposite to his right eye which was blood red. It was as if staring into a pool of blood almost and gave off the impression of evil.
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Eren threw a right hook at the boy's face, knocking his head against the wall, making his world blurry and dizzy. His cheek stung in pain and he felt something warm drip down his head, something all too familiar to the boy. It was his own blood. He had grown accustomed to smelling the iron and sweetness of it. There wasn't a day that went by where he wouldn't catch a whiff of it.
