Tell me where is fancy bred? Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes. With gazing fed; and fancy dies. In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell: I'll begin it- ding, dong, bell. Ding , dong, bell.

~

A cold and crisp morning breeze of December brought back the memories of those horrifying days when Levi had to cross his hours as a slum dog. He bent down on his knees and examined the streetlamp's pole that was standing upright near the sidewalk. He stared at it for what seemed like hours. His mind drifted back to the night when he being eight years old, was battling with the coolness of the concrete ground under an unlit streetlamp. Little Levi was dressed in tattered clothes, dirtied by those thugs who would always steal his bread or any penny he collected.

That night, Levi couldn't sleep. His little spirit would crumble in fear when those thugs returned at night and would try to poke his sleeping form with sticks as if Levi was a vulnerable street dog. A drowsy Levi began to nod and his head came to rest on the streetlamp's pole. He tried his best to keep his eyes wide open so that he could change his location when his bullies would arrive. His form was ghostly pale and the veins were very much visible through that thin skin that covered him like a white shroud. And those ashen eyes of his weren't providing any appearance of life in them.

He was almost dead and looked like those child-actors used in television anti-abuse campaign; just skin and bones. A stop sign on his heart, and he would be standing in front of the gate of heaven. His heart wrenched thinking about the possibilities of his death- a car accident, getting eaten by animals, beaten to death or starvation. No one was willing to hand him any thread of mercy with which he could climb out of that shithole he was living in.

"Oi. You piece of shit," a voice came out from the dark. Little Levi squirmed near the pole and embraced himself for the harsh blows of wooden, and sometimes, steel sticks. The worst punishment for his existence were aluminium wires. Being cheap, they were easy to purchase and light to carry around waists which the bullies did. His wrists were covered with the marks of stinging wires.

"Please....." He couldn't see the face of the figure that was standing in front of him. "Let me live....I want to live..." Levi quivered and brought his skinny legs close to his abdomen so that the thugs wouldn't have a chance to kick him in the guts. Fear coursed through his body which made him feel more cold. 'Is this the last day I'll ever feel cold?' he thought.

"Oi. Look here," the man demanded with a dominating crunch in his voice.

Levi looked up to see a man, his beard was shaved neatly and he was wearing a hat. Levi couldn't see anyone except this man in the vicinity. His chances of being saved were also diminished. "I-I...." Levi managed to croak out, holding back his tears.

"I am not going to hurt a little bitch like you."

Levi couldn't help but breathe in relief. But that fear never left him. Kenny closed on him and examined him, "No dog would eat such a stick like you; you'd not sell for good money too. Tch...stand up."

Levi obliged and stood on his weak legs, his arms hanging lifelessly on his sides. His expression was a mix of fear, relief and hope. Tucking his medium length raven hair behind his ear, the boy parted his lips to speak but no coherent word came out. Seeing Levi's reluctance, the man bent down and scrunched his nose in disgust. "You are filthy," he said. Levi looked at his appearance and felt embarrassed of himself. "We've got to clean you first."

He took a step back in confusion.

"Tch. My name is Kenny, Kenny Ackerman. What is your name, eh?" Kenny asked Levi, still near Levi's head level. Levi couldn't read Kenny's expression through the dark. He wished that the streetlamp were alight right now.

"M-My name is Levi...Rivaille..." he hadn't spoken his name in a very long time so the words felt foreign on his tongue. A good deal of nervousness was visible on Levi's fragile features. Kenny nodded and motioned Levi to follow him. Levi began to walk beside Kenny as he led him towards an old house. It wasn't fancy and had ivy vines clinging to the brick walls. Levi looked at Kenny and passed him a faded grateful smile. Kenny just grunted and said, "Don't you dare smile now."

Levi snapped from the thought of his past life. He looked at the pole again, where for the first time Kenny and he met. Now Levi wished they had never met so that Levi could live a life not full of regrets. Or maybe inside a hearse, or most probably rotting in an alley or inside a dustbin. His wish was just to break through the surface and breathe; wait for a miracle or a life-line.

He stood up from that position. "Damn shit stupid streetlamp isn't working today too," he muttered as he began walking away from the pole, his hands inside the pockets of his jeans.

He continued on the path towards his apartment where Petra would probably be cooking breakfast. She had to work in a café and if Levi remembered correctly, its name was Trost Café. Now that he was thinking about that café, he couldn't help but remember the brunette who was scared shitless after seeing Levi.

To be honest, Levi was a little hurt at his reaction. But mostly everyone would response the same on seeing Levi so why was he concerned about the brat's reviews about himself? Maybe it was those eyes that beguiled him so much. They weren't green, they also weren't blue, they weren't a perfect teal colour too. They were....different. On seeing those eyes Levi could feel freshness surrounding him and freshness wasn't easily available at the shitty place they lived in. But a sudden thought began to haunt him. What if Kenny sees him with the brunette? Evan? Amen? Eren would be dead meat then. Kenny won't let them live; that callous homophobic bastard.

'It is just mere attraction, Levi. Don't get affected; it'll die in a few days; appearances are deceptive,' he told himself but that advice soon became evanescent.

On entering his apartment, Levi pushed off his shoes and placed them neatly on the shoe rack. He could already hear the sizzling of omelette on the pan. He just wished that Petra won't exasperate him with sudden questions about his non-existent love life.

"Brother. You're here, did you meet-"

"Shut it already." Levi said placidly as he sat on the wooden chair, making a creaking noise in the process.

"That's not fair...all I wanted was to know about your life..." she pouted and looked at Levi as if he was a specimen on a petri-dish and she was a scientist. Her questions always seemed to burrow under his skin, clawing at his flesh to get nourishment like a parasitic insect. On the contrary, her presence seemed warm and homely to him; a feeling that Levi almost lost his stimuli to.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Levi quoted from Hamlet.

"What...?" She ignored his statement and went on to make breakfast for him. Levi looked at her in amusement and thought about that day when he met Petra for the first time. The ten year old was covered in dirt and blood and when Levi got to see those hazel eyes to hers, he instantly fell in love with them. He didn't want to go through that memory in detail but he did remember the reason why she was left on the streets like that. Trost, those days had many families leaving their homes and migrating to different places; the reason being its terrifying ambience. Petra was one of those kids who were left behind deliberately by their parents. One less mouth to feed,one less burden to carry.

"There you go." Petra placed the warm breakfast in front of him. "Also, I am going to the café a little bit early so I'd be having lunch early too. You would probably have your own business to get done with so...you don't have to visit to eat lunch with me."

"Oh, alright." Levi said as he silently poked the omelette with a steel fork.

***

"There you go, sir." Eren said as he handed the plastic bag full of grocery stuff to a red-head customer.

'Garrison store. Where you have to smile almost the whole fucking day or the management will bust your petty asses. Might as well save mine,' Eren thought as he passed a forced smile to the red-head. She ignored him like all those customers who had more to do than to pass useless smiles at meager cashiers.

"Thank you very much for your generosity !" Eren called out sarcastically. All of this frisky façade was itching on his skin so much that he wanted to rip off his skin and wash it until all the irritation became negligible to notice. His mobile phone buzzed inside his front pocket, sending vibrations in that area.

"Who could it be?" He flipped it open and examined the name. "E-Erwin? Why is he calling me?" As Eren pressed the receive button, a deep and musky voice filled his ears.

"Good news, Eren. We've finally made out the location of the Titans. This is your first chance encountering any danger...so be careful," Erwin said from the other end of the connection.

"W-Wait Erwin! Calm down! What are you saying?" Eren demanded in a desperate tone. He knew what Erwin was talking about but wanted to make sure if he heard right or not. This might be his chance. His chance on avenging his mother's death. Never in his life had he killed anyone; the thought of killing someone sickened him. But this opportunity was far too precious to be slipped away from his hand. Eren knew this whole revenge thing was worthless, fleeting, illusionary and deceptive, like a mirage. This revenge was illusionary like mirage of water in a desert, calling to him, enticing him with its presence, but the mirage couldn't satisfy him. To reciprocate that thought, he couldn't frolick here and there knowing the identity of the person who killed his mother.

"13th Avery street, the old house in front of Travis Park. The Titans have been located there."

"I will do as told." Eren flipped the cell phone again. "Finally," he muttered.

A soft velvety blindfold covering the eyes of the ignorant. Beshrew those eyes that lie underneath the mirthful material, oblivious to its ambience. This veil that covers the eyes do bring ecstasy and ebullience to a being whose bed is shared. But if the blindfold, statuesque and long as an elegant woman is sprawled on the eyes of those who hold agony, then behold, for destruction is ought to knock at your door. The agony, hot and boiling as magma shall burn him alive for he would not be able to search for water with his blinded eyes.

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