Historia is sure that the half-moons beneath her eyes, so dark they look like bruises, are permanent stains on her skin. Mirrors are no longer her friends. Though her face is still pretty and her golden hair flows in soft waves, she does not like to look at her reflection.
Her eyes hold so much in them, and yet they are so empty. It's been so long- longer than she can even remember now- since she's seen them bright or calm or happy.
They are dead; as dead as she is. They are a hollow reminder of the shell of a girl that she has become.
She presses her fingers to her eyes in an effort to rid herself of the blackness that surrounds them eternally. She's almost shocked when she pulls her hands away and sees that they are not smudged in the same dark purple and blue that surrounds her eyes.
Historia sighs softly and stares at her reflection a moment longer before walking away and crawling back into her bunk. In a way, she's glad that there is nothing specific to do today; then again, she kind of wishes she hadn't faked illness to get out of daily training.
She lies in bed for hours (or maybe for minutes, she has no idea at this point) before she turns to lie on her back and stare blankly at the ceiling.
It should probably amaze her, really, the fact that she had managed to fool everyone with Christa. They had all believed the Goddess persona that she had created. Christa had been so flawless and kind. She was smart and confident and angelic.
Historia is jealous of her. Is that strange? To be jealous of a front she had put up? She supposes it doesn't matter now. Now that Christa has blinked out of existence and Historia is all that remains.
Still though, she wishes she could be as kind and perfect as Christa had been. Historia is so far from the person she used to pretend to be. Historia is flawed. No, she's more than flawed. She is a flaw. She wasn't even meant to be born. She's a mistake. A blight on humanity. She's useless and more than that, she's a burden. She can't help anyone, even with the title of Princess. Hell, it's not like she can even try to put it to use right now anyway.
Historia heaves a sigh and turns over to face the wall again. Eren had told her that Christa was fake and creepy, so maybe her acting skills weren't as infallible as she had hoped. Others, though, had believed that Christa was the only one there. And they had called her Goddess, and they had called her Christa, and now they call her Princess. Christa was a princess in every sense of the word. She had deserved the title. She was a goddess as well. Historia though... Historia could barely get herself out of bed, let alone reign over humanity.
She's honestly surprised with her ability to keep up the act for so long. She had thought it was a good disguise, but Eren wasn't the only person to see something insincere in Christa. Ymir had seen right through her to a scared, cold, lonely Historia hiding behind her.
Ymir... Historia misses her. More than she can describe, even. More than can be put into words. She's angry, yes, probably angrier than she's ever been before, but she misses her so fucking much. Although she's still bleeding from the wounds that opened when Ymir left and took Historia's heart with her, Historia can't find it in herself to stop loving Ymir.
But maybe she shouldn't be thinking about that right now. Maybe she's got too much on her plate to even consider her feelings towards a Titan shifter that she would probably never see again. Maybe she should just go to sleep now, no matter that it's the middle of the day. Maybe she will stay asleep forever. Maybe no one will even know she's dead if she just passes in her sleep quietly. She thinks that's what would be best and she closes her eyes for what she hopes is the last time.
A/N: Ty for reading I am sad about Historia Reiss forever ok bye now
