Chapter Text
Carla Jaeger, before actually becoming a Jaeger, had lived in a small home with her parents. And in that said home, her and her best friend came up with a plan.
As most women do, they discussed their future children, where one would have the boy, and the other a girl; plans for their children to marry were being conceived at that very moment in the silence of the night, where only a crackling fire burned and distant breaths of her parents echoed throughout the halls of her small bedroom.
Her eyes pierced into her friend’s–her sister’s, deep blue ones. Marianne shakes her head slowly, her short black hair swinging with her movement as she clasps Carla’s hand, smiling brightly.
“Your child will be special.” The 16 year old girl says, placing her palm on the female’s womb, though nothing was there.
Carla’s face burns, looking down but her grip tightens on Marianne’s hand.
“She doesn’t need to be special.”
The ebony haired female’s gaze softens, eyes looking down onto their mattress.
It’s almost solemn.
“He will.” Marianne corrects, bringing her hand from her friend’s torso to her forehead, flicking hard. Carla pulls her hand away from Marianne, using both of her hands to cradle her forehead, lurched forward with a pained expression.
“Ow!” She whines, eyebrows pressed, “What was that for!?” Her eyes flicker up with a questioning gaze.
Mari pouts, placing her hands on her hips while straightening her back on her bed while still on her knees. “For saying she. I know for a fact that it’ll be a boy.”
Carla raises a brow now. “Oh really?”
“Yes, really. When have I ever been wrong?”
The brunette scoffs, clicking her tongue while raising her hand to point a finger at her. Her voice raises. “Like yesterday! When we were cooking you said it would be ready in 50!”
“Hey, I said 15.” She cooly lies, crossing her arms and turning away. Carla pulls at her ears in response, earning a yelp from the woman who falls backward on the bed, Carla coming down on top of her. Their bickering turns into laughter, not bothering to straighten themselves. At this angle, the window which was at the wall where her bed was pushed to, was in full view.
There, they were able to see the moon. It was a full moon, the light shining down on the two of them. Their giggling had turned into pants, struggling to get their breathing together. Marianne gazed at the sky upside down, while Carla, resting on top of her, stared upright.
The two stare up with different feelings.
“When you have a boy…you should name him Eren.”
“Huh?” Smiles Carla, looking down at her friend who still stares out the window. “What do you mean when? Don’t you mean if?”
“When you have a boy,” Repeats Marianne. “You should definitely name him Eren.”
Carla stays silent. The change in her normally opinionated, obnoxious friend made the room tense. “But, if it’s a girl, then Iris?”
Marianne moves her head to send a glance to Carla. To two stare into each other's eyes, nothing but child-like innocence flooding their bodies.
“Sure.”
The room is silent.
“But, if– if you have a girl, I want you to name her Iris. And if we both have girls, Iris and Violet. Deal?”
Marianne huffs. “Deal.”
-
There’s so much crying, so much screaming Marianne hears. When she looks up into the starry sky, she can hear the suffering from the corners of this world. It makes her frown, clenching her fists. She looks over her shoulder, glancing at her sleeping friend on the right side of the bed. Carla had her arms sprawled out, but still sleeping like an angel.
She turns back towards the window, allowing her elbows to rest on the frame. Her fingers interlock, rising in her knees to tilt her body forward. Her eyes begin to shut, moving her head to press her knuckles in between her brows.
I don’t know who's out there, or why. But, if you’re able, whoever is out there listening. Help my people. Free them.
Marianne allows herself to straighten up, ignoring the warm streak that falls from her nose down into the wood plane. Her finger tips come to brush above her lips, feeling the wet, stickiness of blood. Grimacing, she can only think of the wood.
That’s going to stain.