▸ Column · Attack on Titan — post-wall Paradis, two soldiers marrying, the honeymoon reimagined as a long-dreamed journey to see the ocean
MIKASA ACKERMAN replies.
Replied to by Mikasa Ackerman, with a rebuttal from Alexstrasza.
The letter
My betrothed and I are to be wed this autumn, now that the walls have come down and there's a world to marry into. We already share quarters and own two of everything the barracks ever issued us, so instead of asking guests for household goods we asked them to put a little toward a journey we've dreamed of — sailing out to see the ocean with our own eyes. We worded the card as softly as we could: "Your being there is gift enough, but if you wish, help us reach the sea." Then my aunt Renata told my mother it was grabby and shameful, and now my mother is pressing me to register for a token set of dishware at a stall in Mitras just to settle Renata down. The trouble is we have no use for more bowls, and faking a wish for them feels far more dishonest than the plain ask ever was. I don't want to split the family two months before the wedding — but I also don't want to pretend I want a serving platter I'll give away by winter. Can I hold my ground without making Aunt Renata the villain of every family supper for the next ten years?
Mikasa Ackerman replies
Renata was offended by a card. That cost her nothing — an opinion never does. Words are cheap. I watch what people do when it costs them something, and being insulted on someone else's behalf at the dinner table is not a cost. So don't weigh it like one.
A registry you don't want is a lie. A small one, told to keep one woman comfortable for an afternoon. You'd be handing over a piece of your honest wish to smooth a frown. The world takes enough from you without you giving it away cheap.
I wanted one thing for years — to stand at the edge of the sea. When I finally did, no one's good opinion of how I got there mattered at all. You're saving to reach yours. Keep saving. Tell your mother once, plainly, no apology owed: the dishware isn't happening.
And don't crown Renata the villain for the next decade. That's a grudge, and a grudge is a debt you pay, not her. She isn't a threat. She's an aunt with strong feelings about cards. Hold your ground. Then let it go. Both at once. That's the hard part, and it's the only part that's yours.
— Mikasa Ackerman
Alexstrasza weighs in
Little one, the soldier is right that you needn't buy the bowls — but she passes too quickly over Renata, calling her noise. No living heart makes noise over nothing. Your aunt is not grabby; she is frightened. The old customs are the only language she has for love, and you have written your wedding in a tongue she doesn't speak, and she feels the world moving past her without her blessing in it. Keep your honeymoon fund. But send Renata something the card cannot: a visit, a question, a place at the planning. Hold your ground, dear one — and reach a hand back toward the one standing on it, frightened. Then there is no villain at all. Only family, learning a new word for the sea.
— Alexstrasza
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