At an old rickety desk, a man sat tinkering with a mechanical doodad, gears, springs, and screws scattered about. Squeak. Squeak. He paused amid his work and shook his desk. Squeak. Squeak. Scratching his head, he scanned his desktop. With a curt hum, the man searched around his desk. Where could it have gone off to? As he searched, his wife was chopping up some potatoes just a stone throw away across the room of their cottage. Her hands worked on their own as she stared out the window, looking left and right down the street right outside. Where could her daughter have gone off to?

Movement came into the window's view and made the wife freeze. A young raggedy child fought with a tall Garrison soldier as he was escorting them towards the house. The wife threw her knife into her cutting board. "That child...!" She marched to the door and flung open the door. "Elysia Sumner!"

"Hello, Ileana," the military man greeted her.

She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh through her nostrils. "Dom, what did she do?"

"Do you need to ask?" He gave a light chuckle and gave the girl a jerk. "The little rascal tried to scale the wall again."

"I was hoping that one of these days you would bring her around with good news."

He shrugged sheepishly. "I dunno what ta tell ya."

"Ugh." She squatted down to the young girl's level. "You are in BIG trouble, young lady."

The girl gave a huff and turned away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't give me that." Ileana pointed a stern finger at her. "You say that every time! And the next day you're out and about again doing the same damned thing!"

"'ey, 'ey." The man finally backed away from his workbench. He slid his goggles up on his forehead and swaggered over to the commotion. "Dear, let's not yell at 'er fer usin' 'er ambitious nature ta 'er fullest potential."

Ileana looked at her husband, dumbstruck. "It's amazing how you intervene and yet don't at the same time."

Ignoring his wife, he knelt down and brushed his daughter's bangs away from her eyes. "Elyse, 'ow 'igh did ya make it?"

Elyse beamed, putting her hands behind her back and rocking on her heels. "Halfway!"

"Halfway?!" Ileana gasped.

Dom rolled his eyes and nudged Elyse in the back of the heel. "You little liar, you only made it a meter up, and that was because you climbed the crates."

She turned to him, holding a metal contraption with study, imposing spikes and leather straps out to him. "I would've gotten higher if these worked!"

With a chuckle her father took the object from her. "I'm glad ya decided ta test it fer me, but these are supposed ta be fer ice, Elyse."

"They're both hard..."

"Oh yeah," Dom looked back at her parents, "she also tried to drive a stake into the wall."

Ileana gasped again, putting her hand over her heart. "Elysia!"

"With what?" Her father seemed suddenly and genuinely interested.

"Gregory! Stop encouraging her."

"I'm just askin', dear."

Dom handed her father small leather bag, worn from age and constant use. "A hammer."

Upon seeing the tool, Gregory smiled. "So this is where it went off ta."

"For once, can you TRY to be even a little upset over this, Gregory?" Ileana hissed through her teeth.

He cleared his throat and brushed himself off as he stood up to face Dom. "I'm sorry fer the trouble she's caused ya, boyo. I assure ya that she will never go near that wall again."

Dom grinned and put a hand on Elyse's hair, ruffling it up. "Don't worry about it. You're just lucky that me and the others really like the little bugger. She keeps things exciting during the gate shifts. You've got a really determined young'un. "

Ileana threw up her hands in exasperation and went back to her cutting board, to which Gregory gave a quiet chuckle. Something in him liked seeing that disgruntled face on her. It reminded him of why he fell in love with her to begin with. Then with one swing of that clever, he remembered why he stayed.

Gregory thanked Dom and closed the door as he lead Elyse back to his work table. This was what his little girl looked forward to every day. Her eyes lit up and that cute toothless gap between her teeth showed with her grin. Gregory pinched her cheek lovingly and brushed her hair back. Her hair had gotten so long. When did she get that scrape on her hand? Was she taller too? It seemed like just the other day he had her cradled in his arms, singing her lullabies. Now, she was old enough to sit his lap as he tinkered away.

Curious about his daughter capabilities, he let Elyse hammer in those loose nails back in place with the same hammer she took with her earlier. One wide swing was all it took to drive those nails in. How his girl got the strength to swing a hammer like that...THWAK! Gregory turned in time to see he head of a chicken go flying. Mother's agressive strength combined with his own thoughts and ideas. Ah, no one could ask a more perfect child.

Elyse climbed back on her fathers lap and took his goggles and put them on. "Papa, do yah think dat I can be an inventa like yah?"

Hearing the slurred and garbled speech, Ileana turned from her cooking, shaking her knife at the father-daughter duo in the back of the house. "Elyse, what have I told you about talking like that? Speak properly! You're an educated girl for heaven's sake. Act like one!"

"Sorry, Mama." Elyse giggled.

"Well, 'oney," Gregory whispered to his child, "ya can be whateva yer little mind can think of. Ya've learned well from me an' yer ma, but dun just think all there is in life is either a tailor or an inventa. There are things ya can do beyond this." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice even further. "And in Elysium...ya'll be able ta do things ya could only dream of doin' here."

Her eyes widened, joy filling up in her, as she whispered back. "Ya mean, like flying?"

"Flyin', sailin', travelin'...ya'll be free ta do whatever yer little heart can think of."

"Then...why do people hate it so much?"

The cheerful shine in his eyes dulled as a frown creased his face. "When ya 'ave a safe 'aven...or even seemingly so, people dun wanna ruin it, even if the reward is...much greater than the sacrifice."

Elyse could only stare at him. Not understanding why people would rather stay cooped in a place like this, where outside, there was a world of limitless possibilities. Gregory pinched her cheek again as the matron called them to dinner. Maybe it was wrong to mold his little girl into a dreamer, maybe his wife had the right idea, to grind reality into her like salt in a wound. People were happy the way things were, living life like they could leave any time they wanted. Going on about trivial, everyday problems. Why go looking for trouble to create bigger, deadlier problems?

Gregory watched his young girl and his wife eat, not touching his own food. Elyse was shoveling food down her gullet as Ileana desperately tried to wipe her face and stop her from eating like a pig. Ever since Elyse could comprehend words and actions, he and Ileana have butted heads. He could hardly care less if his little girl was accepted into society or not. He wanted her to dream big and fight her way out of here. On the other hand, Ileana wanted her to be accepted, looked upon like a respectful girl of class, so no one could look down upon her and smear her name through the mud. Following her mother's path, Elyse would attend parties of the upper class, marry a rich and loving man, have children, and then die. All while trapped behind the wall.

Ileana looked up and met Gregory's eyes. Her lids narrowed just the slightest into a glare, as if to scold him for everything he has done, as if the way his daughter turned out was all his fault. He would gladly take credit for everything his daughter did. She was papa's little girl, and nothing she did could make him any less proud. And nothing made him happier than telling her fairytales and folktales from the world before the wall, like the Pied Piper or the Boy Who Cried Wolf . Even after hearing the same ones over the years, that smile on her face never grew dimmer.

It was worth having to sleep down in the basement. Ileana truly hated all those stories and all those dreams. Yet, some nights, he would wake from his sleep, feeling a light kiss on his forehead, to see her retreating up the stairs. Sometimes he wondered if he was seeing things from being awoken in the middle of the night, but other times he knew how much Ileana still cared.

"Elyse! School!" Ileana shouted the next morning. "And if I find out you skipped again, there is going to be hell to pay, young lady!'"

"So, don't get caught." Elyse grabbed her bag and bundle of books. "Got it, ma!"

"DON'T YOU DARE!"

"I was just kidding!" She quickly darted out of the house before her mother could do anything else.

Sitting at the dining table, Gregory gently blew at his tea. "Dear, ya shouldn't care so much about what Elyse does."

She swiftly turned to him with a scowl on her face. "Is there something wrong with wanting her to go to school?"

"No, but something could be said about tryin' ta bend a child against their natural 'inges."

"You're just saying that because she's chosen YOUR way of living."

Gregory shrugged. "Who knows if I would be alright if she lived yer way, but I don't 'ave ta. She 'as chosen ta escape this place."

"Only because she doesn't even know what's out there!"

"Titans. I told 'er. That 'asn't deterred 'er."

"You could say castles and magical ponies and be met with the same attitude. She doesn't know what those titans are capable of. Of course she would shrug it off like nothing! If she continues with this dream of YOURS, she'll see those titans. She'll see them, and it will be too late. She will die, pursuing a dream that doesn't even guarantee happiness! It's just some fantasy idea!"

Gregory had averted his eyes from his shouting wife. This was a losing argument for him. Everything he said, through no fault of Ileana, would make him out to be a bad father. All he could say was, "she's following 'er dreams."

"She still can't tell the difference between her right and left shoe!" Ileana slammed her hands on the table and stormed off to the bedroom. No doubt to weave her signature garments made with the utmost anger. Clack. Clack. Clack. Ah, there was the sound of her sewing machine working its sorcery. Those other tailors around, who foolishly stitched their fabrics with love and care, could never hold a candle to his wife and her robes of malevolence.

Gregory sighed and picked up his tea. How his wife sold a single dress with such ill will behind each one, was a mystery. There was no use trying to make her feel better. Anything that came in contact with her would just make her mood fouler. He descended into the basement, his treasure trove of all the story books and scriptures of the time before the wall. He ran his hand over the leather spines of his books, until he came across a hole. One was missing. Where did it go off to?

Elyse sat in class, holding her mathematics book straight up, as her teacher doodled math problems on the board. Her face was plastered in that book, eyes darting back and forth over the text, the text that told old ghost stories of yore. Her eyes lit up as the shutters rattled, and the flames of the candles flickered, and the ghost appeared in front of her. Oh, how those words seemed so real sometimes. She eagerly flipped the page of the book within her mathematics text.

The boy behind her rose his hand. "Father, Elysia isn't actually reading the text."

Elyse froze with her mouth open in shock. She then turned to the boy. "You tattler!"

The graying teacher sighed and put down his chalk. "Elysia, I warned you before."

"Oh no, please, that book isn't mine," she begged.

He walked over to her and held out his hand. "It's bad enough that I've let this go twice. Not to mention you haven't been showing up lately, and the day you do decided to show up, you're distracted with something."

"At least it's a book..."

He beckoned his fingers. "Elysia. Don't make me ask again."

She whimpered and handed him the thick leather-bound book. "Please don't take it. It's my pa's."

The teacher took it from her and examined it, thumbing through the pages and skimming the passages. His eyes became wide behind his glasses as he saw the contents. With a snap, he shut the book. "You may have this book back later."

She played with her fingers nervously. "You...won't tell?"

He turned his back on her and went back to the front of the classroom. "I will be having a talk with your parents."

"Could it just be with my pa?" she asked hopefully.

"No."

Elyse sunk down in her seat and pulled her textbook with her. Grudgingly, she followed along with the math. It was nice that the teacher could continue on like nothing had just happened. Not only did she have to sit through class, bored out of her mind, but she was probably going to get yelled at and then killed later tonight too. Now, a little part of her wanted the class to go on forever, but nothing was going her way today.

When they were dismissed, the boy who tattled approached her with a blank, emotionless stare. "Elysia, I'm sorry for being a tattletale, but you really should pay attention to this. It could help you later on in life."

Elyse turned slowly to face the thick browed boy, scowl on her face. "I hate you, Erwin."