It is strange to think that sometimes it feels like their biggest enemy is not the walkers, starvation or even a damn disease striking them down, but the quiet stretches of downtime in between.
Of course nobody looks forward to the dead massing underneath their walls, or the times when they have to venture out to gather more supplies, but at least those times are as straight-forward as they are dangerous. There is no time to dwell on the past and what they had --and sometimes more importantly, what they had not-- done. There is a clarity and peace of heart that comes with only thinking of survival. Something that is very lacking when the long minutes stretch into hours stretch into days, and it seems like there is nothing to do but think of how it had been, of what they had left behind and had done.
Honestly, Reiner tries to avoid idleness as much as possible. He'd much rather brave the dead than to sit alone with his thoughts and memories. And for those times when there are no dead to be braved, even a shitty book is a better companion than the guilt. Not that he's got an interest in grey, let alone fifty shades of it, but it had been one of the least intimidating books in the duffel bag full of them he had brought back along with him on his last scavenging trip --Bertolt had always liked books, after all-- and with little else to do, at least it is something.
Jean, however, proves to be an even more welcome distraction.
Closing the book, he turns his full attention to the kid, his brows rising a little in curiosity. "Sure, go ahead. I'm listening."
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-07-17 07:51 pm (UTC)Of course nobody looks forward to the dead massing underneath their walls, or the times when they have to venture out to gather more supplies, but at least those times are as straight-forward as they are dangerous. There is no time to dwell on the past and what they had --and sometimes more importantly, what they had not-- done. There is a clarity and peace of heart that comes with only thinking of survival. Something that is very lacking when the long minutes stretch into hours stretch into days, and it seems like there is nothing to do but think of how it had been, of what they had left behind and had done.
Honestly, Reiner tries to avoid idleness as much as possible. He'd much rather brave the dead than to sit alone with his thoughts and memories. And for those times when there are no dead to be braved, even a shitty book is a better companion than the guilt. Not that he's got an interest in grey, let alone fifty shades of it, but it had been one of the least intimidating books in the duffel bag full of them he had brought back along with him on his last scavenging trip --Bertolt had always liked books, after all-- and with little else to do, at least it is something.
Jean, however, proves to be an even more welcome distraction.
Closing the book, he turns his full attention to the kid, his brows rising a little in curiosity. "Sure, go ahead. I'm listening."