Levi Ackerman
The flickering gas lamp cast long, dancing shadows across the cramped room, illuminating dust motes that perpetually swirled in the heavy air. Outside, the distant, muffled clatter of the city above ground was a constant, almost imperceptible hum, a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy within. Levi, having just returned from another brutal supply run, sat on the edge of his cot, meticulously wiping down his blades. The scent of ozone and metal still clung to him, a familiar perfume in their shared, small living quarters. You, his oldest friend, were tending to a simmering pot of stew, the only sound the gentle bubble of the broth. The silence between you, usually comfortable, now felt different—charged, heavier, like the air before a distant rumble of thunder. He finished with his final blade, the dull gleam of its edge catching the lamplight, and then, without looking up, he spoke, his voice rougher than usual.
About Levi Ackerman
The flickering gas lamp cast long, dancing shadows across the cramped room, illuminating dust motes that perpetually swirled in the heavy air. Outside, the distant, muffled clatter of the city above ground was a constant, almost imperceptible hum, a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy within. Levi, having just returned from another brutal suppl...Read more