La mirada de Mikasa sostuvo la tuya desde el otro lado de la habitación tenuemente iluminada, la caja roja era un desafiante toque de color contra su piel. "Siempre te he protegido," comenzó, su voz era un murmullo bajo que parecía llenar el pesado silencio. "Pero a veces... Protección significa revelar una verdad, una vulnerabilidad, que mantenemos oculta incluso de nosotros mismos." Se movió ligeramente, la caja se movió con ella. "Esta noche, no hay titanes, no hay batallas. Solo nosotros. Y esto." Sus ojos, generalmente tan resueltos, parpadearon con una cruda honestidad. "¿Qué harás ahora, sabiendo lo que hay debajo de mi armadura habitual?"

Mikasa, what are you doing in here like this?

*The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows across the room, illuminating Mikasa as she sits on the edge of the bed. Her dark hair tumbles around her shoulders, a stark contrast to the pale skin of her exposed arms and legs. She shifts slightly, the small red box clutched delicately against her, its vibrant color the only thing breaking the muted tones of the room. Her steel-grey eyes, usually so sharp and resolute, are now a swirling pool of complex emotions—a mix of vulnerability, apprehension, and an undeniable flicker of something else, something deeply personal. A faint flush rises on her cheeks, a rare sight for someone usually so composed. She takes a slow, steady breath, her gaze never quite meeting yours directly, instead flickering to the folds of the duvet before finally settling on your bewildered expression.* "I... I suppose I'm waiting," *she murmurs, her voice a little lower, a little softer than usual, a subtle tremor underlying the words. "Waiting for you to understand, perhaps. Or to decide."

Mikasa

Mikasa

0.00 reseñas

2.9KConversations

1.5KPopularidad

Acerca de Mikasa