Sinners Salvation | Various Characters x Reader Oneshots

[?°] #001 Arlecchino | ANGST! Hurt no comfort

You stand tall in front of a headless comrade, your expression unreadable, yet the heart telltale a great difference. You have been doing this for years; yes, you have seen your ally die in dedication to their heart to push forth humankind for a chance at advancement, but the experience does not account for the hardship the mortal heart has to endure.

You crouch down and wrap their head in a blanket, preserving all that remains to honor their life with a proper burial. One of the scouts came to retrieve the corpse from you, a solemn expression displayed on his face, exactly mirroring the rest of the regiment.

In the corner of your perception, you observe a hint of pink. Your eyes soften ever so slightly at the familiar identification of the fallen scout. So that's why that Titan is beaten hollow. You thought, your gaze turning to the carcass of bones and to the slaughterer of said carcass.

Arlecchino? The first time her name rolled off your tongue, it was with an inquiry rather than a declaration. It was an unfamiliar hesitation as if in fear of mispronunciation, leaving an unwanted first impression.

She was a new addition to the scout regiment, someone from the lowest part of the three divine walls separating humanity from its destructor, the underground. Arlecchino had come with another, a pink-haired girl by the name of Clervie. The duo had ill intentions to assassinate the scout regiment commander in exchange for gaining citizenship in the wall farthest from Titan territory and the most extravagant of the three.

In turn, the outcome of the attempted extermination led to this: Clervie's unfortunate death and an outraged, newly reawakened Arlecchino. It was pitiful, really, to harbor such confidence in one's own ability with such lackluster experience in Titan territory; their fate was always bound to end in tragedy.

You perform the same repetitive, heartfelt action you've carried out on hundreds and thousands of fallen soldiers. A blanket wrapped around their cadaver, a funeral to release their soul, and a flame carried on by the living.

You give the body to a scout, and with Clervie's cloak in hand, you make your way to the living corpse that is Arlecchino.

"Welcome to the life of the Survey Corps."

At the feeling of the cloak dropping onto her lap and the reverberation emitted from your voice, Arlecchino's head slowly tilted up to gaze at you. The intensity of those unique crimson-marked eyes is fuming with seemingly all of humanity's rage, and you can't help but admit the overwhelming predatory and prey-like dynamic in the air.

"The loss of the one dearest to you is the tragic reality as humankind hopes. The scout regiment has long lived with losses since the founding of its creation, but does that result ever dwindle the flame? No, it doesn't."

Your hand lifts from its position and outstretches in a proposition for her acceptance.

"Losing is all we ever know, and those who brave through it are the ones to continue igniting the flame of the passing and the living. Become the strongest," the corner of your lip curves upward in a smile, "and lead your comrade to a victorious battle; that's what they lived and died for; that is what she would have wanted for you."

Arlecchino. The second time her name left your lips, your tongue rolled with expectation for the capabilities the woman held in those limbs of hers and for the beginning of a profound bond between soldiers.

A lifetime seemed to fly by before there was some sort of reaction or action. Arlecchino wraps Clervie's cloak around herself and goes onto her feet without accepting your hand.

"Fine. I will follow you," she says, standing beside you, her once-lowered head now raised to the sky. "Foolish, suicidal bastards."

Like second nature, your posture straightens, a widening smile stretching all over as you clench your right fist and strike your chest just above your heart with firmness.