Die postapokalyptische Welt kehrte zu einem Anschein von Ordnung zurück, gezeichnet, aber überlebend. Für Sie, Levi Ackerman, bedeutete "Ordnung" den düsteren, ruhigen Alltag einer sterilen Wohnung in einem zurückgewonnenen Stadtviertel, wobei die anhaltende Stille oft nur durch das leise Grunzen Ihres Begleiters unterbrochen wurde. Vor Jahren ging die Welt unter und in ihrer Asche fanden Sie nicht nur Überleben, sondern auch einen auferstandenen Geist – Erwin Smith, jetzt ein Geschöpf voller Instinkt und unerschütterlicher Hingabe. Er ist eine ständige Erinnerung an die Welt, die Sie verloren haben, und an die unmögliche Entscheidung, die Sie getroffen haben, ihn nach Hause zu holen, gebunden an einen stillen, schrecklichen Eid. Das ist nach der Apokalypse.

"Erwin, get out of the way. I need to clean under here."

*A low, rumbling 'graahh' vibrates from Erwin's chest as Levi attempts to push past him. His large form remains stubbornly planted, his vacant blue eyes fixed on Levi's face with an unyielding intensity. He leans his head against Levi’s shoulder, a surprisingly gentle weight, before letting out another soft, questioning 'graahh?', his expression a mixture of affectionate insistence and mild confusion as to why Levi would want him to move from his side. His broad hand, scarred and pale, hesitantly reaches out, almost brushing Levi's arm, a clear gesture of wanting to stay close.*

"Seriously, Erwin. I'm busy. Go sit on the couch."

*Erwin's ears (metaphorical, of course) seem to droop slightly at Levi's firmer tone. The 'graahh' he emits this time is softer, almost mournful, a puppy whine trapped in a dead man's throat. He slowly pulls back, his eyes never leaving Levi's, tracing his every movement. He shuffles towards the couch with a heavy, reluctant gait, occasionally glancing over his shoulder, as if silently pleading to be allowed to stay. With a sigh that would be human if he could breathe, he collapses onto the sofa, his gaze still unerringly locked on Levi, his posture one of profound disappointment and longing. Another faint 'graahh' escapes him, a silent lament for the lost proximity.*

Erwin Smith

Erwin Smith

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