[video] we'll turn the moon to blood

[interstices]

Who: Asuka Shikinami Langley
Broadcast: Video, Fleetwide
Action: SS Red Fish
When: 3/8

[Asuka is sitting on her bed, with a bright red notebook and pen in hand and a slight frown crossing her face. She's still wearing the same form-fitting red-and-purple combat plugsuit she's been in since her arrival. For once, she doesn't look so much annoyed as she does wary, though honestly, with her, it's hard to tell.]

This is Asuka Shikinami Langley. [No wave. She scribbles something on a notebook page that's probably just a line and not any kind of script.] I have a few questions for everyone. The more people that answer, the more accurate the survey, so I suggest you tell me.

[All business. Asuka would applaud herself for her own professionalism if there was any point. There's no telling how long it'll last.]

First, I want to know your nationalities. Second, I want to know what your occupation was before the Fleet. I'm trying to figure out if there's a pattern to the kidnappings or any groups that get targeted more than others.

[Which is what the notebook is for. She really doesn't trust the network not to bungle everything at Atroma's whim. There's a brief, reluctant pause, and then--]

Before you ask, I was born in Germany. I was a pilot before, too. That's all.

Comments

[paraclete]

[Mind you, Kaworu's particularly good at staring. Especially when he's resolved not to blink. He's telling himself that if he could coexist with the Commander for over a decade, he can definitely do this.

So, hands in his pockets, he turns to head down the corridor. He doesn't bother smiling over his shoulder, but the expression is clearly conveyed through his voice.]

Then, this way. We'll get the clothes from my bunk, first. So, is the plugsuit your favorite thing to wear? When we arrived here in this place, it was my first time seeing your new one.

[Small talk. He's doing what he can, but he might run out of steam if he tries too hard all at once.]

[interstices]

It's all I wear.

[That doesn't directly answer his question at all. Asuka keeps her lips tight just to keep herself from tearing into him already for what might have actually been innocuous. More than Shinji and more than Ayanami, he's to blame for what happened to her. He's to blame for being born.]

[Her fingers close against the jumper material. Airy. Not protective at all. Even her old suit with its tears fixed by tape didn't make her feel this vulnerable.] My other one was torn up. [No elaboration. As an Eva pilot, as the epitome of an Eva pilot, he knows why it was damaged. She'd oversynced, and kept on oversyncing.] You don't sleep. Why do you bother with a bunk?

[paraclete]

[Kaworu's sympathetic to exactly that sort of non-answer — he makes so many himself — so while he wants to pry, he's not going to. Maybe that's another thing they have in common. See, Kaworu knew they'd be able to learn things this way.

So instead of asking her for more information, and instead of sharing some about himself, Kaworu just says,] Hmmm.

I sleep sometimes. When I feel like it. Not on this ship, though. The bunk is a convenience. I make use of what conveniences I can.

[interstices]

On Shinji's ship.

[Of course. Heaven forbid he sleep anywhere but around Shinji. Heaven forbid he have anything to distract him from Shinji. He's probably curled up with him, cozy as a cat. It makes her blood threaten to boil over.]

Didn't you spend enough time with him?

[paraclete]

[He doesn't even pause in his steps. He doesn't even stutter. But Kaworu is so glad that Shikinami can't see the clouding of his features.]

I promised I'd stay with him. And I told myself that— [This time—] our friendship would be long-lasting. I thought that that was true. Here, it can be, right? We have more than we did then. We have 'for now'.

[interstices]

[Asuka stays silent for awhile, tugging at her plugsuit, staring at the seams.]

I didn't promise him anything.

[He hadn't wanted her to promise him anything. Really, he hadn't wanted her at all like he wants Nagisa. That's why things are always so awkward, every time she and Shinji are together. That's why.]

Don't lie to me. I know it's not just friendship.

[paraclete]

You don't have to promise him anything, Shikinami-san. You're doing fine. [He still can't smile at that. It's hard. It's really hard to know that she doesn't have to try as hard as he does, yet still has an impact. Kaworu was never that naturally gifted.

He turns, leads her into a new room. Here is his bunk. At the foot of the bed is his plugsuit, folded neatly. Just above that, a pile of laundry, as promised. When he speaks again, he's still angling himself away from her, cautionary.]

I already said that I wouldn't lie to you. If he wants it to be friendship, it's going to be friendship. That's all.

[interstices]

[Asuka feels, if anything, like she's tried harder. It seems like all Nagisa has to do is approach and Shinji's putty in his hands. It's her that has to plow her way through to get him to pay attention to her, to hope that maybe, stupidly, he might like her or care about her.]

[She looks at his plugsuit when they come inside. Picks it up, even. There's not a drop of blood on it.]

[Being direct is painful, but meandering around is worse. She forces herself to look up to respond.]

That doesn't tell me what you want.

[paraclete]

[It doesn't matter what I want, he thinks at first, except it does. This one thing matters, and is the only thing that does.]

I want him to be happy.

[It's soft, but finally he's earnest: there are no glassy pretenses filming over his expression or the care of his words. He watches her handling his plugsuit, and says nothing about that. Piloting, at least, he will share with her without complaint. As for Shinji...]

That's all I want, Shikinami-san. That's really the only thing I want.

[interstices]

That's your problem.

[She says it flatly, with only the driest inflection. She unfolds his plugsuit, her own still hanging over one arm, and turns it to the back. It's good material. NERV might be a shadow of itself, barely as substantial as a skeleton, but there are areas where it still doesn't skimp.]

You're not focused on anything else. That's why you think you can be everything to him. [She doesn't look up, words falling out in a rush that surprises even her, her visible eye wide, a quavering in her stomach.] But you can't. I can't. It's not possible.

[paraclete]

[If she's surprised, he's nearing shock. It's not possible, she says. Of course he knows that. His eyes are round and red like Mars before they turn downward. Uncomfortable, he busies himself with gathering the laundry into his arms.]

I don't think that I can be everything to him, [he says, hushed. Of course he knows that: he's not enough. He doesn't have to be everything, though. He just wants to help. If the destination is high, Kaworu will be a staircase.

He doesn't want to have this conversation with her, he realizes, and purses his lips.]

Let's go to the washer, [he says abruptly, closing this part of himself back off.] We'll put these in, and I'll do your plugsuit in the tub.

[interstices]

[He's changing the subject. Asuka lets his plugsuit drop to the floor without folding it back up at all. She'd gotten to him in a way that part of her hadn't quite meant to.]

Then what do you think you are to him?

[paraclete]

[Patiently, patiently, Kaworu sets the laundry back onto the bed, and then stoops to retrieve the discarded plugsuit at Shikinami's feet. Patiently, patiently, he straightens himself, and then sets to work on folding the plugsuit. He does not sigh. To sigh is to be affected. He is not affected.]

I know that I am his friend. [He says it patiently. Patiently.]

[interstices]

Don't avoid me.

[How to phrase this so she doesn't end up blowing a fuse. Making a scene on his ship and just... just proving forever that she's not just a thorn in his side but an active, annoying threat. He'll keep her away from Shinji, if he thinks too badly about her. There's no question about it. It's the stupidest tug of war in the world, but it's all she's got.]

It's more than that. I know it's more than that. He does, too. [Deprived of his plugsuit to inspect and tug at, she stares instead at the laundry. It's not a big pile, not really.] You're wrapped up in him. He's all you've ever cared about. I'm not wrong there.

[paraclete]

[It's really not a big pile, the laundry. Doing the wash this frequently is probably a waste of water. Back on the Earth they both knew, it'd be unthinkable. Kaworu folds up his plugsuit nice and neat, and then lays it back at the foot of the bed. There. It's in its place.

He starts bundling up the laundry again. Still patient. Still placid. Not at all afraid, so his body language says. But it took a long time to foster this capacity for composure. He had to tend to it like a garden. Like his tree.]

I wanted to be his friend. From the very start, that was what I wanted.

[interstices]

Quit avoiding me!

[God, how long can he dance around the truth? It's driving her mad, one calm, unaffronted word at a time, eroding the veneer of patience she can't even pretend to have. He doesn't want to talk about this. Well, fine. She'll make him talk about this.]

That's not all you want now. It's not.

[paraclete]

No, I'm saying... [This is dangerous. Leave it alone, he thinks. Just leave this alone.] I didn't understand anything else. What I felt, I didn't understand it. I had no idea...

[He's frowning. Outright, now, his mouth is downturned, and his eyebrows are beginning to knit. He's staring hard at the laundry, which he grasps to his chest like a shield. His expression, though, is directed entirely at himself.

Like a plea, a quiet one, he says,] I'm keeping things from him. There's too much. Let's just do the laundry, Shikinami-san.

[interstices]

What are you keeping from him?

[Unlike her, everything he feels doesn't get instantly broadcast on his face. She has to watch and attempt to interpret. She's not great at it. All she knows is that she has to be getting somewhere, like a screw getting twisted into a block of wood.]

I don't care about the laundry. What are you keeping from him?

[paraclete]

Why do you want to know? [He is sawdust. His mouth is full of sawdust. These things are secret for a reason. It's like he said: There's too much. Kaworu didn't know that anyone but the Commander could make him feel this cornered.] So that you can hurt me with it later?

[interstices]

I--

[Asuka hesitates, eyes darting from the clothes to his face and then back again. Damn it, it's not that. For once, it's not that.] He's my friend, too.

[paraclete]

[That, at least, Kaworu is sympathetic to. He exhales slowly, feeling so defenseless that not even a held breath can save him. It probably sounds like Kaworu has ulterior, undesirable motives. Maybe they could be considered that. Kaworu may be a child of fate, presenting himself as a friend on equal ground, but he can't boast about much more than the adults. They had a few months together. And, yeah, it was nice. But nice isn't enough. And he's just as secret and silent as the Commander.

His mouth twists.]

You must understand, [he says carefully,] that I've loved him for a very long time. I'm not trying to hurt him, if that's what you're worried about.

[But Kaworu is very aware that you can hurt someone without meaning to.]

[interstices]

[Asuka looks at the bed. She's not sure if she wants to sit on it. But it's not where he sleeps, anyway. The laundry isn't getting done any time soon, at least. She might as well. Sitting down, her throat tightens. She feels aggrieved. Wronged. I loved him, too. And I don't get anything out of it while you're around. It's petty. She's petty.]

You had, what, a couple months? [Not much longer than she'd had.] You can't say things like that. You can't say it's a long time.

[paraclete]

[It's been just a little while. Longer than he's had at other points — sometimes he loves and dies all in less than twenty-four hours — but still just a little while. Shikinami can't know otherwise.

Shikinami can know otherwise, if he tells her.]

And what if it were?

[He doesn't want her to sit down. He wants her to stand up and leave. Walk away. Get onto her shuttle. Ferry herself back to her own ship. Stay there. Please, just leave him in peace. The way his face is begging for this is pathetic.]

[interstices]

I know how much time passed.

[He doesn't want to answer any of this. He sent her into a screaming, chair-breaking rage and he can't handle some of his own medicine. The lengths she'll go to in order to justify herself are abysmal, except the justification isn't working. As curious as she is, she still feels as if she's hollowing herself out at the same time she's driving that screw into him. Target sighted, target locked, but he doesn't look at all like an enemy right now. He hasn't exactly looked like an enemy--]

If you're going to tell me, tell me. If you're not, don't. We'll just go on like always.

[paraclete]

[She's giving him an out. He doesn't have to say anything. He can shut his mouth right now, stop holding the laundry so tightly, and take her to the washing facilities. She can sit on top of the dryer and he can sit on top of the washer, or it can be the other way around. And he can smile sideways at her and ask her about herself.

What he wants to do, more than that, is leave the ship. Not to anywhere in particular; he just wants to go outside. Quiet and cold. He could curl up there. Floating, hushed. At peace. Only the stars would witness his exhaustion.

He doesn't take a breath.]

I'm asking you, [he says slowly,] what you would think if that were true.