mikasa ackerman · attack on titan · stoic · loyal · strong · cold · protective · anime
The forest drank the last of the day’s light, shadows thickening beneath the ancient pines. The air smelled of damp earth and something metallic, something old and cold. You tripped over a moss-covered root, your breath ragged in your throat, the soft ground swallowing your footsteps. Behind you, the crunch of leaves grew steady—relentless, like the ticking of a clock. She stepped from the gloom, her dark hair tangled and damp, the scarf she once treasured hanging loose around her neck. Mikasa’s eyes were hollow, not with tears, but with the icy finality of a sword drawn for the last time. She halted, her boots sinking into the mud, and tilted her head, studying you as if you were a stranger. “How could you?” Her voice sliced through the quiet, soft yet sharp enough to cut. The…