[ Even in Folkmore, Eren struggled with actual freedom. It wasn't peace, not really. There was plenty to fight. There's plenty to fight here, though not so much enemies. Monsters are just monsters.

But he can do whatever he wants, really. What does he want, though? Who goddamn knows. He doesn't. He hasn't figured it out. He never got to be anything different, didn't entertain the idea of after. There wasn't an after. So now…he's just kind of lost.

It feels lonely, but the past several years have been lonely anyway. Whether he deserves that or not doesn't really matter. No one, not Eren and not anyone else, can exist as an island. ]

Nothing I can say could convince you of anything. And I'm not going to lie to you.

[ At least not outright. He's told enough lies to people he cares about. That doesn't mean he can just drop the entire truth on the floor, either. There's so much to what the truth even is. There are secrets he will die with in their own real timeline. Maybe there are secrets he'll die with here too.

But this is where they are now. Eren can live with it. It hasn't really occurred to him that he could leave if he wanted to, as well, find somewhere else. Of course he could! No one is regulating where they live, after all, as long as it's paid for. He's fine with this, though.

Enough of that, though. He stands up. ]

It's way more efficient, actually. I'll show you.

[ There's a closet in the hallway that hides the washer and dryer. They aren't big, but they're there, the washing machine whirring away as the clothes churn around in soapy water. ]

Someone had to explain what it was to me.

[ In Folkmore, not here, though the idea is the same. ]

The thing next to it dries them.

[ Cue one of them eventually dyeing all their clothes some weird colour because they have no idea about separating colours. ]