driftfleet | 001. accidental video/text + action.

Entry tags:

001. accidental video/text + action.

Who: Shinji Ikari and everyone ever.
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: Marsiva, for all the new arrivals.
When: Right now, and he'll be available until the Shuffle, huddling in his bunk or counting the stars. Feel free to contact or approach him anytime.

[There's no explosion of sight or sound. No exposition. No questions. Nothing attention-grabbing at all. Just that omnipresent sci-fi hum and the sidelong view of a young boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen, lying on his back in one of Marsiva's complimentary bunks. The boy, Shinji, is staring straight upward at whatever is above him. He isn't animated except for the feeble rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The only noteworthy thing is what he's wearing: it appears to be a form-fitting wetsuit with rib-shaped accents and other curious details.

Ten seconds later, he hasn't moved. He doesn't acknowledge that he's somewhere very new, with yet another unfamiliar ceiling. Twenty seconds later, he hasn't moved. Thirty seconds later, he hasn't moved. By now, most new arrivals would probably figure out they're not where they're meant to be, for better or worse. They'll address the network instead of continuing to stare into nothingness with a distinctly corpselike quality to their face. But, one minute later, he's still staring listlessly. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. He isn't aware of anyone or anything near to him. This is undoubtedly the most boring show in the universe, which might make it avant-garde--fifteen minutes. Twenty. Twenty-five.

A full half-hour later, for viewers with the patience to stick around, he still hasn't moved or said anything. (Hopefully you aren't watching this live, so you can just fast-forward through the eerie silence.) It's thirty minutes and thirteen seconds, exactly, when he looks to the side with a dry, audible creak of his neck. He's looking at the communication device. Maybe he recognizes it, but it's hard to tell what he's thinking. Even he can't tell what he's thinking. Then, unsteady enough to resemble a marionette, he reaches over to grab the device from where it's resting. The view dissolves into the dark purple blur of his palm.

Just before the odd broadcast cuts off, he appends a text message.]

Sorry. I didn't know.

action, aboard the Marsiva:

[Eventually, although he doesn't remember how, Shinji hauls himself out of the bunk bed. He shuffles like a zombie through the hospitality deck, heading for nowhere in particular. He's just walking forward. Lost in his thoughts, you could say, even though his thoughts amount to little more than a ripple of confusion.

At the grand bay windows of the ship, he stops moving. He stares. He stares harder. He takes in the vastness of space; it's exactly what he was looking for without realizing it. Again, painfully stilted, he presses one of his palms against the reinforced window. He doesn't recognize the stars (except he kind of does?) (strangely?), which is why he's fascinated with them. In what must be a different lifetime, he was a self-taught student of astronomy.]

One...

[His voice is hollow and weak, nearly lost between him and the window.]

Two, three... four...

[If Shinji seems to be counting the stars, that's because he is. The longer he counts out loud, the stronger his voice gets and the more aware he becomes of what he's counting, of where he is or he is not. This time, he'll actually turn his head to stare at anyone who approaches him, or even comes close to him. There's a meager sliver of humanity to him now. He looks like he wants to ask a question, but he can't figure out how to say it. His lips are numb.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well?

[He's not going to talk. That's more typical than it should be. The very last she remembered, Shinji had been something she yelled at and dragged instead of someone who moved on his own. He's still wearing that plugsuit from earlier. So is she.]

[His presence confirms it's either not a dream or not a pleasant dream. Her subconscious is pretty paltry, but she wouldn't imagine him strained and silent and irritating. Asuka can't recall the feeling of sensations in her dreams, either, but he's pretty warm even through the plugsuit. Asuka gnaws the inside of her cheek and gives him all of six more seconds to answer before pinching his bicep hard between her thumb and fingers. It's childish, but it should be effective. She'll get some reaction out of him yet.]

Edited 2016-01-27 20:56 (UTC)

[There's pain. It's very far away, farther away than it should be. Shinji slowly looks down at where Asuka is pinching him. If her assault on the bulletproof glass is any indication, she's going to give him a nasty bruise. That's one way of knowing this is real. The figments of his imagination never left him with wounds that he could see the evidence of.

If his eyes are watering a little bit, it's only out of reflex. He has a high tolerance for pain even before you factor in the disconnect between his flesh and his brain. But, if she keeps on pinching him, he starts to feel more restless, ready to pull away. Just because he can tolerate pain doesn't mean he enjoys it. Now his eyes definitely have a wet gloss to them. He doesn't understand why she has to hurt him. He doesn't understand her.]

St... [Counting is easy compared to speaking freely. He tries again.] Stop, [he says, in the smallest voice ever.]

[She stops though his reaction is completely unsatisfying. He's like a wilted weed she's tossing fertilizer on. Not worth her time and the only thing worth her time, because he's the only thing that's familiar. Snapping him out of this might be impossible, but she doesn't have anything else to try.]

Say something.

[Tugging him with her had been easy when she'd had a destination in mind, but now, not knowing where to go, she's left at an utter loss. He probably won't answer her first question. In fact, he probably won't answer her second, either. Asuka takes a deep breath, and then says next, trying to force him to look her in her one visible eye--] What's the matter with you? We're stranded here. Don't you care?

[What's the matter with him? What's the matter with him? Does Asuka want the long answer, or the even longer answer? Shinji lifts his eyes to look her in the eye, but he still has the daze of someone on morphine. Any caring he could be doing is lost in translation between his heart and his face. Kaworu's death ruined something integral inside of him. It will take a miracle to piece himself back together. More than a miracle.]

I followed you, [he says, then, as if that explains it. He's blaming her. He has a million things to blame himself for, but he won't blame himself for this. He was perfectly content with rotting away inside the entry plug. Then Asuka came along, kicked him down and dragged him out, and made him walk along with her. The next thing he knows, they're both here. Wherever this is. Stranded, apparently. Not his fault. Not his fucking fault.]

Don't you dare blame me when it's your own fault. [She can almost taste the acid in her words. He's still the same stupid child. Instead of screaming and crying like she would, he shut down, determined to make everybody aware of his unhappiness and dragging them down with him. How selfish. How bratty.]

[Even aboard the Wunder, she had no control over him. Not that she's ever been able to pull rank-- looking fourteen has kept anyone from taking her seriously enough for that. That makes her position right now bad, really bad. If she alienates him too much right now, he might just go away for good.]

I didn't bring us here. [As if there was ever any doubt. She reaches as if she's going to grab him again, and then waves her hand in an irritated beckoning gesture instead.] Come on. Counting like that's not going to help, idiot.

[Shinji wants to scream at Asuka. Not for any particular reason, or about any particular thing, but just because it would feel really good to scream. He'd wipe the sanctimony right off of her face with a piercing shriek. Maybe she'd allow him to keep counting, then. Maybe she'd even leave him alone for good. But the few words he's said so far have depleted most of his energy. He's exhausted. He can't feel the outer reaches of his body, including his fingers. How can he play the piano if he can't feel his fingers? He sways on his feet, vision blurring, wondering if he's going to faint...

His eyes manage to refocus on her. His arms are still hanging loosely at his sides. He took a single step closer to her, but that's all. He doesn't know where he is, or where they might be going. He doesn't know if he can trust her anymore, for that matter. This might be a trick. A trap. An elaborate ruse set up by WILLE.]

I didn't ask for this. Any of this.

You think I did?

[Despite her acrid tone, she hesitates for that second he sways. Like he's about to pass out. If he does it right here and cracks his skull on the floor-- well, Asuka won't let that happen. Whoever brought them here had to have something better planned for them than an eternity of wandering one deck.]

[She can't be patient with Shinji, and she never could. He's got enough self-pity to crush a small city, and enough recklessness to bring a world to its knees. Worse, he's taking it all out on her. Acting like she's the problem. Well, fine. She can deal. Asuka grinds the ball of her foot into the floor for want of a better target.]

You haven't eaten anything, have you?

... Don't remember. [Maybe Kaworu coaxed him into eating some bland-tasting supplements before they boarded Unit-13. That seems like the sort of thing Kaworu would do. But Shinji can't really remember anything more substantial than a sand dune and a splatter of blood. Asuka's voice, too. Kaworu's voice. Misato-san's voice telling him not to pilot Eva. Too many voices. He should have listened to their warnings. He should have listened, but he refused to listen.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his miserable reflection in the window. He looks like a ghost with that dark, dim, uncertain outline. For all he knows, he died fourteen years ago, trying to save Ayanami. For all he knows, he isn't the real Ikari Shinji. His heart thuds in his chest like a damper pedal.]

Why?

Edited 2016-01-28 23:32 (UTC)

Because you should eat.

[He wasn't always this pathetic. It's not her fault, though. For all that he inadvertently snuffed out hers (that's not true) (that's not true), she hasn't beaten his life out of him. Not remotely. If Shinji can't handle himself, that's not her responsibility, and it never was. Asuka's gaze drifts to the ground like a faltering, flimsy leaf.]

They have food here. That's what I heard.

Edited 2016-01-29 03:00 (UTC)

Why?

[Why should he eat? More importantly, why is Asuka being nice to him? Or, maybe "nice" is too strong a word, but she's definitely concerned with an aspect of his welfare. She could ignore him and no one would blame her... Before, she tried to punch him, then she walked away from him. She could walk away from him again. The thought of her leaving him--losing that crimson bit of familiarity--causes Shinji to take another step closer to her. Her presence is the most tenuous of pied pipers.]

What do you mean, why? Do you want to starve to death in space?

[She's bruised him already, but now she wants to smack him. So weak. Why does she have to take care of him? Why should she feel obligated? Asuka knows why, but knowing doesn't keep the grimace from her lips or the irritation from her tone.]

[As long as he's here, there's something familiar. Shinji looks the same as ever, of course, if more woebegone and more distant than lightyears. New plugsuits for them both but the same wretchedness inside. If nothing else, she won't allow him to curl up and disappear on her again.]

Come on. Come with me, and we'll get it.

Edited 2016-01-29 04:18 (UTC)

Mmn... [Starving to death in space sounds more interesting than dying of exposure in a crimson wasteland. If Shinji had ever gotten around to penning a will, he would've specified sending his ashes into space. That way, he would be dispersed among the stars he was so enamored with... Pretty morbid stuff for a fourteen-year-old. He just didn't want himself added to the body count on Earth.

He zones out too long to answer the question. Instead, he takes another small step toward Asuka, heel-toe and tentative. If she's willing to lead him somewhere, he's willing follow along behind her.]

[It's a start. She's not nearly so certain of where she's leading him, but it's still encouraging for Shinji to bend to her authority. It means she's getting somewhere. Asuka thinks he'll recover somewhat given time, coaxing, and enough berating. Maybe it's preemptive, but she's starting to feel slightly more definite about his chances now, unless he's just bending to her will out of a lack of any better options.]

[Dismissing that thought with a sharp shrug of her shoulders, Asuka closes the distance between them. She's grabbing him again before she knows it-- on the elbow this time instead of the bicep. They're not on good enough terms for her to just bark at him and expect him to come. If anyone ever managed to be on good enough terms with Asuka for that, in fact, she'd turn her nose up immediately. But she isn't willing, isn't able, to hold his hand, either.]

This way. [She won't drag him this time, but she isn't slowing down her steps too much for his benefit. He can't slow down at the rate time's careened past them both.]

[Shinji's knees are rickety things, but he just barely avoids tripping over himself at the start. He settles into a slow, plodding walk, his eyes cast to the floor. Having no better options isn't why he's opting to follow her. Asuka is the only familiar thing for light years around, judging by the stars' alignment. With a clearer head, a stronger heart, he would be terrified and also enthralled with the implications of being so far away from home. It's the realm of science-fiction. It's impossible. It can't be real. At the same time, it has to be real.

If he can't believe in his own reality, then he can't believe in anything at all.

Marsiva's cafeteria doesn't invigorate him any more than the passing floor does. Still, he can sort of smell the concentrates available here--at least one of them is citrus, aromatic enough for his numb nose. NERV didn't offer anything more decisive than vaguely protein or vaguely vegetable when it came to lunchtime trays of paste. He lifts his head to look around, mostly with his eyes, not really turning his head. Unsurprisingly, there is nothing and no one that he recognizes. He stays close to Asuka because he's sure to get himself lost otherwise, even in an open-plan auditorium.]

Fruit, [he says weakly.]

Edited 2016-01-29 16:39 (UTC)

[It's all automated, like everything else she's seen here. Shinji could have a good time this way, not having to answer to anyone or communicate what he wants in words. Asuka just punches in her selections from the menu list, and with a whir, a tray drops out after a few seconds, with everything neatly sectioned off-- sure, it's mostly pasty, but it smells a lot more convincing than what she's used to. She picks up her tray, forehead wrinking.]

Fruit?

[She glances at him-- does he need her to press the buttons?-- and then decides to go for it. Apple(sauce), mango, kiwi, banana. She'll give him what she doesn't eat, too.]

[Amazing. Shinji's eyes widen slightly. NERV was almost fully automated, too, but Shinji didn't get to choose the flavors of the day. Even on the days he refused to eat, the trays arrived like clockwork, offering the same-old, same-old. He really thought a hunger strike would change his father's hands-off treatment of him.]

Ohh...

[He doesn't have the coordination to carry the tray. Coincidentally, he also doesn't have a grasp on decent table matters. He lifts a couple fingers--they're still gloved--to scoop up some of the yellow-tinted paste. Banana, apparently. He's going to snack on it right here.]

[Oh, jeez. He's scooping it up like a baby. Asuka's lips pucker as she grabs his tray in her other hand, depriving him of being able to scoop any more banana-flavored paste up with his bare hands. In an awkward balancing act, she manages to get two spoons and a handful of napkins from a nearby counter as well before marching over to one of the tables, plopping everything down with the dull sound of plastic-on-plastic.]

Sit with me.

[He's wearing out his welcome. She really should let him fend for himself, or allow him to feed like a toddler if that's what he wants. But she can't allow for that. Right now, Shinji might as well be a walking magnet for predators. If she doesn't take charge, anyone could nab him for whatever sick purpose they wanted.]

[As soon as they're both seated, she scoops some of the banana paste onto one of the spoons, holding it out to his mouth.] There. Like this.

[Still sucking on his fingers, Shinji obediently follows Asuka over to the table. The flavor of the banana--really fresh--a lot better than the synthetic food from before--is reviving something deep inside him. His eyes don't look so dark or sunken by the time he sits down. There's a spark of enjoyment in there somewhere. Just a spark. But even a conflagration can begin with a spark.

He's ready to scoop up more paste when Asuka presents the spoon to him. He blinks once, then twice. He wrinkles his nose. He might be helpless and confused, but that doesn't mean...]

Not a baby, [he mumbles. But she isn't making fun of him, as far as he can tell, so he leans forward and closes his mouth around the spoon.] S'good... [He swallows, licking his lips. He might be hungry after all. Now he's eyeing the orange-tinted paste.]

I know.

[It's a small concession, but it's a concession. Asuka's expression isn't quite as dismayed or annoyed as before. When he pulls his mouth away from the spoon, she looks at it, ready to wipe it off for him if there are still lingering traces of paste, but there aren't.]

Good. [She hesitates, stupidly, before maneuvering the spoon to the orange paste.] You like mango? [Asuka's not sure if she's ever had that delicacy in her life. Some imports had been hard to get even between Impacts. She dips the spoon, gathering up a decent-sized dollop. She's not quite positive, but she thinks he might be feeling slightly better. Just slightly. Asuka eats mostly out of habit these days. She hasn't had much of an appetite in years.] Here.

Edited 2016-01-30 01:43 (UTC)

[Good. Good. Shinji is drowning inside himself, but that's--"Good," said Asuka, and then she asked him if he liked mango--a lifesaver for him to cling onto. Of all things, she's praising him for clearing a spoonful of banana-flavored whatever. The stupidest thing to ever receive praise for. Really stupid. He's clinging to being a good boy anyway. Now he's lifting one of his shoulders in some imitation of a shrug. He never particularly liked anything when it came to food. Hamburgers? Maybe cheeseburgers, when he was feeling adventurous.

He accepts the mango without complaint. It's so flavorful that he actually closes his eyes, shivering a little bit.] Th... [It's easier to say this when he can't see her.] Thank you.

Sure.

[You're welcome doesn't seem like an honest enough statement. She shouldn't have to be doing this. But she's not letting Shinji curl up and fall completely apart. As long as she's around, that won't happen to him. She's already convinced she's the only one that could do it.]

[She scoops out another spoonful of mango, figuring a shrug was better than him shaking his head. Feeling stupid for asking such a casual question, she adds--] Is it good? It smells okay.

Yeah.

["Why are you being nice to me?" That's what Shinji wants to say. He seriously wants to say it. It's trapped inside his chest, a thing with feathers. His lips twitch, but there's no way to confuse that for a smile. It's just something different. Better than the clay mouth of a corpse. Better than a rictus scream of pain.]

Have some, [he adds, hushed, opening his eyes.] It's very good.

Edited 2016-01-30 23:58 (UTC)

[She hesitates visibly before setting down his spoon and grabbing her own, unused one. Despite being out of quarantine for years, people still don't want to touch her. People definitely don't want to eat after her. God only knows what's in what passes for her saliva.]

[Shinji's face at least has some expression in it now. Asuka's already figured out that any progress is going to be excruciatingly slow. That's... it's not okay, but it's acceptable. She gets a pasty dollop of mango and pushes it between her lips, her perpetual near-frown shifting for just moments. It's sweet. Strong, making her try to picture tropics she won't ever see. Asuka almost takes another scoop before remembering it's Shinji's tray she's taking it from and not her own.]

It's not bad.

Mm.

["I'm sorry." That's the other thing Shinji wants to say. "I'm sorry," he would say, for once looking her in the eye. He wouldn't be staring at the featureless surface of the table like he's doing now. "I'm sorry for fighting you." Or, "I'm sorry for not listening you." Or even, "I'm sorry for what I did to leave you behind."]

Have the rest.

[He can't apologize. Not yet. Despite his tendency to apologize for every slight, he doesn't want to apologize to Asuka until he can sincerely feel his remorse. But he can relinquish the rest of the mango paste.]

Edited 2016-01-31 15:50 (UTC)

[Asuka gazes at him silently, tempted to refuse him, or at least argue. She doesn't eat a lot-- her own tray, with just a splash of supposed bratwurst and some powdery potatoes, is proof enough of tha. He needs his strength, and anyway, there's no misguided need to sacrifice here. More mango paste is just a tap on the screen away.]

[But then she decides to take it. Once she has that second spoonful, the third fairly promptly follows. Maybe because she hasn't had it before now. She's finished it off in another minute or so, uncertain of whether to thank him or offer to bring him some more.]

Finish one of the others and then we can leave.

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