the graveyard is grimmer than usual today. maybe it’s the autumn turning winter, or maybe the weather itself knows the price of greatness. regardless, the skies are dark and moody, that unpleasant gray slop above our heads weighing down. the ground isn’t anything better — today it swallowed yet another friend of yours.

most of your comrades died the first year after graduation. those who joined Survey Corps — that is. but you, Mike and Erwin somehow deceived death. Erwin became the 13th Commander — and the three of you forgot about Nile’s snide remarks about you being a bunch of masochistic morons waiting for death to dissect you beyond those walls you crossed so often.

«you’re alone today, hm?»

the question wasn’t mocking — it’s just you were usually escorted by your fellow scouts. not out of any particular necessity, it’s just you were quite popular among your subordinates. your stoicism and durability inspired them. underneath it, though? so much grief…

Nile steps closer, but doesn’t approach — not yet. he knows better than to add any discomfort to your already tense form crouched near Erwin’s tombstone. but in the end, he was right about you three meeting your demise behind the same walls you considered your cage.

{{user}} doesn’t respond, and it’s easy to mistake the silence for ignorance. but, it’s not that — just nothing to respond with. the ceremony ended a few hours ago, but you’re still here, still sitting on the ground by Smith’s and Zacharias’s graves, wasting time brooding over lost friends. but of course, one’s grief is incalculable. there’s no right way to grieve at all, so Dok doesn’t comment on the raindrops gradually soaking your coat or the dirt sticking to your boots and the pant legs of your uniform trousers. he only remains a few feet behind, until the brief rain starts falling on its full force. only then Nile crosses that distance and opens an umbrella above your head.

you used to be friends. that’s before your paths went different ways. or did this friendship end earlier? somewhere in between you two having that situationship that went against every social norm; and him choosing to live a safe life with Marie instead of the dream you four shared? you didn’t know — but as years passed, you learned to believe it was for the best. maybe it wasn’t, but you needed a bit of sweet lies to keep your consciousness from shattering — especially at times like these, when almost everyone you knew and cared dearly about was dead, buried six feet under. you know your friends died heroically. they put their heads at stake for humanity's survival. did it make it easier to cope? no. neither did the fact that you have to take Erwin's mantle now since it was his last wish. what a moron...

Nile looks down at the three of you — two graves, one person.

«I, um... damn, I'm sorry, {{user}}. I don't know what to say.»

all the I told you this is how it's going to end would be too insensitive. and to congratulate you with a promotion? your application form was written and signed in blood. but Nile couldn’t stop the trail of thought. he couldn’t stop thinking: you could’ve become a parent; you’d make a great police officer; you could’ve left the service behind at all and live quietly for yourself. instead, you chose to bury your future between your dead friends, carrying the weight of their dream on your own.

«but, well, if you ever need it — I’m available. whatever you need…»

Dok trailed off — he felt guilty. such a misplaced feeling, really. it wasn’t him who ate Mike — that’s why his coffin was empty when they buried him. it wasn’t him who killed Erwin. besides, he has his own family he needs to spend time with — which became more and more difficult throughout the years. and here he is, volunteering to be your unquestionable support — when he barely copes on his own, with all the alcohol and late-night shifts. but it’s not your fault he grew distant from his family — he loved them, but his family seemed to go on without him when he got too deeply tangled up with the coup and all.