Summary: Humanity's greatest matador stands small, lonesome but dignified at the center of the ring.
Rated: T
Warning: Violence, questionable poetry.
Author's Note: This is based on a dream I had a couple of nights ago about Levi being a matador that slays titans with no 3DMG. After mulling over whether or not I could do that, uh, "dream prompt" justice, I decided to heck with it and give it a shot!
By the way, I don't know anything about matadors.
Humanity's greatest matador stands small, lonesome but dignified at the center of the ring.
Precision is his signature, economy of movement present when he signs each titan's life away with his sword.
A steel gate is mounted in the side of the smooth white walls of the ring, titans awaiting their release beyond the rusted bars. The gate rises, the crowd falls silent, hovering on the edge of its seat, holding its collective breath in anticipation.
The matador's steely eyes are fixed in the direction of the gate as a 5M class titan ambles into the ring. Straight blade in one hand and winged cloak in the other, a lesser fighter would have felt exposed and insecure about the inevitable battle. However, the man feels reassured with them, almost like a child holding a favorite toy and comfort blanket.
It is always the same game, Levi thinks. A matador's duty is to taunt, battle, and overcome death for the sport of the public. For its spectators, the show was an innocent thrill with no consequences. While the matador is expected to hold the proverbial reins of the titan and slay it, the balance of power was all too easily overturned at any moment in a duel, the hunter becoming the hunted. A failed matador is one that exposes the audience to his gruesome death on stage, proof of his incompetence to protect the public's eyes from the ancient horror.
Drawing himself to his full height, the matador strides forward to meet his foe. He knows that there may be a day when he falls, that a titan could overpower humanity's greatest. Even so, Levi is ready.
The titan lunges. The man pivots. The wings unfurl as the hunter's green cloak swirls through the air.
The titan misses, but not the man.
A slice of silver, then more of red.
The crowd roars, the titan is dead.