The Knight In Winchester Armor

Fucking Winchesters, Eren swore to himself.

He seethed as he made his way towards the exit.

His frustration was palpable, like a cloud hovering over him.

They played the clips of his fight with Daniel and the hall had suddenly become too small, too devoid of air.

He knew what they were doing.

They were trying to make him seem unhinged, wild.

The kind of person no one would want to touch.

The kind of person sponsors would not want to be associated with.

Of all the things the Clans considered important, their reputations were paramount.

Their reputations made and broke them.

Their reputations could be compared to fabric—white, sterile fabric—easy to sully, and William had just made Eren out to be a tree heavy with pomegranates, messy, ripe to bursting.

They played the clips and it was as though there was not enough oxygen in the world, as though staying there another minute would