What's better than a beach? A beach at dusk with fireflies.
Erwin has never seen so many at once. They would come out as the sun went down in the summertime in the little garden of his family's home, but there were never as many in the city as when they visited the countryside to see his grandparents. There, they flourished, but it was still nothing compared to this.
If he'd had shoes when whatever magic had transformed him, ten-year-old Erwin has already lost them, rolling his pant legs up to his knees and running into the edge of the surf and out again, laughing joyfully as the waves chase him across the sand.
Eventually he finds a jar - whether someone gave it to him or he picked it up himself, and walks along the beach in feet coated with sand, holding out his hand for fireflies to land on. There's hundreds - thousands, maybe even millions of them, blinking softly in and out, and he manages to coax a few into the jar, like captured starlight.
When he spots the dark haired boy, Erwin approaches eagerly, all big blue eyes and eyebrows that he definitely hasn't grown into yet, his blonde hair windblown.
"Hello!" he greets, perhaps a bit over-friendly. "Did you catch any?"
gimme a bb - also pretend I have a bb erwin icon
Erwin has never seen so many at once. They would come out as the sun went down in the summertime in the little garden of his family's home, but there were never as many in the city as when they visited the countryside to see his grandparents. There, they flourished, but it was still nothing compared to this.
If he'd had shoes when whatever magic had transformed him, ten-year-old Erwin has already lost them, rolling his pant legs up to his knees and running into the edge of the surf and out again, laughing joyfully as the waves chase him across the sand.
Eventually he finds a jar - whether someone gave it to him or he picked it up himself, and walks along the beach in feet coated with sand, holding out his hand for fireflies to land on. There's hundreds - thousands, maybe even millions of them, blinking softly in and out, and he manages to coax a few into the jar, like captured starlight.
When he spots the dark haired boy, Erwin approaches eagerly, all big blue eyes and eyebrows that he definitely hasn't grown into yet, his blonde hair windblown.
"Hello!" he greets, perhaps a bit over-friendly. "Did you catch any?"