we all (have a) hunger
A/N: As obvious as it is with this characterization, the euthanization plan has been replaced by the restoration plan.
(Originally posted on AO3, where my more... "adult" works are posted. But I don't think this violates the site's guidelines, so I'm posting it here too.)
At heart, Zeke Yeager believes he is a hedonist.
"One would think the Beast would be more animal than man."
Alternatively, primal urges and primal encounters.
At heart, Zeke Yeager believes in the gods. In whatever shape, body, or form they may be, he believes that gods do exist. Religion is the foundation of all morality and philosophy, and these come from higher planes of knowledge, from higher beings that watch over and guide all of humankind. He's read about the many religions, those pantheons of deities from the East and West, and even the primitive beliefs of those from the North and South. But here in Marley, there is only the religion of truth, their truth.
(At heart, Zeke Yeager believes that religion is man-made.)
Eldians were the scum of the earth, descended from the Devil Herself, and they are all meant to live and die in the service of Marley to atone for their ancestors' sins. They are born into a lineage of filth and treating them as dirt is all good and justified because of their ancestors' sins–no matter how long ago they've all perished. No matter how the Eldians themselves have built the very foundation of Marley's castles and fortresses, because they are simply born into a world like this, they are meant–destined, fated–to live a life of suffering.
(How juvenile. How naive. How selfish and childish of them all.)
And that was the dominant religion in Marley. Dominant, because no matter how they try to snuff out the belief, the faith, the trust of these Eldians in their own God–their God-Queen, their Grand Empress, their Fountainhead, the Source of All Life–such little lights still exist, and these little lights will continue to exist. Prayers to Her will still be whispered in back alleys and closed storefronts, and images of Her Return will still be drawn on throwaway paper and slow-drying cement. She will return, they believe, to free Her people from this world and lead them to the promised land, to Paradise.
(They gave this name to the island of devils, and it's the most ironic, most insulting thing of all. But perhaps...)
Roth, the Red Spider, was the one responsible for the Ancient Colossal and boasted of its knowledge and its ability. It was a Colossal far greater and more devastating than the one formerly in Marley's arsenal. It was a Colossal that could level mountains and create valleys, and its shadow could extend for miles. Its size is a manifestation of its knowledge, the report had said, of the island and its people. But no one will believe if, not unless they see and hear and feel for themselves.
(...not unless they witness for themselves the devastation that these behemoths caused all those centuries ago; island disappearing to the bottom of the sea and mountain ranges reduced to rubble.)
"Shall we give a demonstration, General Calvi?"
Roth is young, arrogant, and as ruthless as a knife.
"That would be unnecessary," the aged general says, "we know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth."
(Was it out of respect or out of fear?)
"So we shall do as our Emperor commands." Roth smiles like a bright and shining thing among the stern faces in the room, "Commander Magath, I shall leave her to you."
And Magath salutes the young spy, hand shaking out of shock and anger. They have lost the Female and the Colossal to these devils, and now they've brought to them an Ancient? It sounded too good to be true, sounded too beautiful to be true. This might be a ploy by these devils. The woman might have eaten both the Female and the Colossal, and was sent here to destroy them all. But if that were so, why play this hapless charade? Was this to mock them? To taunt them?
When Roth and the rest of the War Council leave, Magath looks at the limbless woman and scowls, "Grow back your limbs, then," he says, "Don't expect to be carted around like an invalid."
(...or dragged by the neck like a dog.)
"I would never." The woman says, and lowers her head. Slowly, her arms start sprouting from her shoulders. Bones, muscles, and skin regrow to the sound of cracking and squishing. The sounds fill the silence, but a Shifter's regeneration will always look and sound distasteful.
(It's a cursed thing; it is both a wicked and wonderful thing that makes Titans closer to the undying, unyielding gods.)
But she does it like it was easy–it is–like it was nothing to her. How many times had her limbs been cut off? How many times was she made–or trained even–to regrow limbs?
"I will gladly accept any hospitality you give." She continues, arms fully formed and steaming, before flexing her fingers, knuckles cracking.
"Even if there is none?" Magath asks straight, keeping his eyes on her face, to see any signs of hostility.
(But Magath forgets that holders of the Colossal are often unreadable, as they would readily kill and kill and kill.)
"I only wish to be useful." She replies, holding both her palms forward. There is not a scratch on them, besides old scars discolored and mended. It is an amicable sign; she has no visible intention to fight or flee. She is simply here, fully aware of her position.
(Yes, she is a soldier through and through.)
Her legs begin regenerating now, and the sound is louder and there is more steam. She's expending her stamina, however much is left of it, to regrow her limbs faster. And when she is finished, when the steam dissipates and she plants her bare feet on the floor, she exhales deep and heavy. She couldn't possibly attempt to attack now, could she?
"You done now?" Magath stands and walks past her to the door, "I haven't got all day."
She nods, then follows to stand. She is a bit wobbly, placing her hands on the table to support her. But when she stands... When she turns to Magath and stands to her full height with her back straight and eyes forward, Zeke knows it is not to maintain her integrity.
(The sight is familiar to him, like it was a memory from long ago, of his mother standing to face the crowd that wished for her to be crowned queen.)
She stands with her pride more than anything else, no matter how brittle and breakable it may be. She stands ramrod straight with her back towards him and eyes looking past Magath because of her pride, her stubborn, noble-bred pride. She is a tall woman, with the stature and elegance of those marble statues in Marley's chapels and cathedrals.
(Like a sight to behold, like the sight of the Devil Herself.)
Magath looks at him and says, "Be on guard, Yeager."
The woman would know better than to attack outright, would she? Not with Marley's own celebrated–if not already defamed–War Chief. But she does not turn to him, and does not even give him a wary glance or roll of her shoulder. Instead, she is quiet and follows Magath through the halls and into the streets of Liberio.
Her feet are bare on the ground, but she maintains her posture. The streets of Liberio are quiet and uncrowded, but she doesn't look anywhere else. She is uncurious about being in enemy territory, like she has no interest in scouting for the devils in Paradis. And she walks with a sureness in her step, like she has been here before, like she was only retracing her steps.
Perhaps this was the Ancient Colossal's doing?
But she makes no comment, makes no complaint. She looks to be obedient in this manner, looks docile and passive. She, the holder of the Ancient? A Colossal? Zeke is almost reminded of Hoover, the quiet boy with wide eyes and a quiet mouth. And this makes the entire situation dangerous. Hoover was so readily willing to set explosions, to detonate the Colossal in the heart of enemy territory, and perhaps this woman is the same. He knows she is biding her time, waiting for the opportune moment to catch them off-guard, to show her hand and flatten Liberio in the blink of an eye.
When they reach the Warriors' training grounds and barracks, Magath tells her she will scrub the floors and walls clean–again and again–until she learns her rightful place beneath them. She will learn obedience. She will learn subservience. She will learn that though she may be noble-bred she, her name and title mean nothing in Marley.
Zeke looks at her eyes from the side, to see any semblance of hostility, any form of fury, any hint of the devil lurking beneath her skin. But he finds none, which is even more terrifying, even more dangerous.
"I shall do as you command, sir." She bows her head minutely.
Magath scoffs and leaves, and that's when Zeke sees that flash–quick as lightning–of teeth behind her mouth. And the sight of it rouses something in him, in the Beast, in his blood. Like a predator at night, like a wolf in the dark that lies in wait for the opportunity.
(But the question is, which of them is which?)
There is so little flesh on them that you could count the starveling ribs through their pelts, if they gave you time before they pounced.