[ For much of their shared lives, Reiner found himself unable to relate to Annie. He knows why now: he was a zealot, and she a cynic. But like a child (he was a child), he thought that he was right. He thought that if he pushed hard enough, he could convince her to see things his way. Then, later, he thought that if he pushed hard enough, he could truly become Marcel, leaving the pathetic boy who had caused Marcel's death to die in a field.
Reiner pushed himself. He pushed Annie. He didn't know then that he was pushing her away.
When she pushes back from the table, there's a sickening moment where Reiner thinks he did it again. He thinks he screwed up, said something wrong, pushed too hard. He's been trying to get better about that, Jean having snapped at him like a cornered dog after he did the same thing to him.
But it turns out that Annie just needs some space. So Reiner sits still, and he listens.
I didn't want to have to kill anyone else... not even Eren.
He feels his stomach drop, the implication behind those words making him nauseous. But he doesn't interrupt. His face twists into concern as she toys with her ring; for a second, he thinks she means to transform right here. But that's not what happens. She bleeds … and she doesn't heal.
It seems fitting, given all that she's saying. That she would bleed and not heal. Seems far more fitting than the fact that all the violence they've endured has left no scars, no marks, nothing tangible. Only the marks left on their hearts and minds, gouged so deep that Annie lost her will to fight and Reiner lost his mind.
He drags his eyes from her bleeding thumb to her face. Searching it. ]
You don't have to kill anyone here, Annie, [ he says, his voice gentle. ] Even if you do choose to fight, you don't have to kill anyone. Most of the enemies here are monsters—real ones, not "devils." They've never been human.
And you can help in other ways, too. You can repair stuff, build new things, help out with food… I've got a shop where I sell defensive enchantments. Only defensive ones. [ He twists his fingers together. ] Some people don't understand that, but… I want to protect people, not give them weapons to hurt each other.
[ He already caused a famine. He doesn't want even more secondhand blood on his hands. ]
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Reiner pushed himself. He pushed Annie. He didn't know then that he was pushing her away.
When she pushes back from the table, there's a sickening moment where Reiner thinks he did it again. He thinks he screwed up, said something wrong, pushed too hard. He's been trying to get better about that, Jean having snapped at him like a cornered dog after he did the same thing to him.
But it turns out that Annie just needs some space. So Reiner sits still, and he listens.
I didn't want to have to kill anyone else... not even Eren.
He feels his stomach drop, the implication behind those words making him nauseous. But he doesn't interrupt. His face twists into concern as she toys with her ring; for a second, he thinks she means to transform right here. But that's not what happens. She bleeds … and she doesn't heal.
It seems fitting, given all that she's saying. That she would bleed and not heal. Seems far more fitting than the fact that all the violence they've endured has left no scars, no marks, nothing tangible. Only the marks left on their hearts and minds, gouged so deep that Annie lost her will to fight and Reiner lost his mind.
He drags his eyes from her bleeding thumb to her face. Searching it. ]
You don't have to kill anyone here, Annie, [ he says, his voice gentle. ] Even if you do choose to fight, you don't have to kill anyone. Most of the enemies here are monsters—real ones, not "devils." They've never been human.
And you can help in other ways, too. You can repair stuff, build new things, help out with food… I've got a shop where I sell defensive enchantments. Only defensive ones. [ He twists his fingers together. ] Some people don't understand that, but… I want to protect people, not give them weapons to hurt each other.
[ He already caused a famine. He doesn't want even more secondhand blood on his hands. ]