mk.05 (text)

[paraclete]

Who: Kaworu Nagisa, anyone else!
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: his bunk, the Vanquish
When: this afternoon

Need advice for when one's body is trying to kill oneself

[Shipmates may notice how he hasn't left his bunk but a couple of times in the entirety of this past week. This means he's been of no use as an engineer, which is bad news considering this mysterious bug business. Even without that, he should at least be tending to the ship's overhead lights, which have been flickering on occasion... (The particularly astute might note that this seems to coincide with the muffled sounds of what could be... sneezes?)

But, alas, he is dying. He's pretty sure of it.]


(augment glitch = baby's first flu!)

Comments

[paraclete]

['Good for his throat' sounds too good to be true. The way his throat hurts now is even more pronounced than what he felt preceding his death by DSS Choker. Maybe because it just won't go away...

It's Kaworu's opinion that he doesn't deserve to feel better in the first place. But this sort of misery is on a different level from anything he's experienced, and... well, he prefers his suffering to be self-made. It's scarier when he has no control over it.

... ... ...]

Vanquish

[He's covering his face with his hands (and texting with his wobbly mind), humiliated but feeling very emotionally and physically needy.]

Thank you

[beathach]

Okay, give me ten minutes then. Stay in bed, I'll come find you when I get there.

[poor thing, at least a worrying mom-type is on the way to make him feel better. And even better, it's a doctor mom-type]

[paraclete]

[Plain and simple, Kaworu just doesn't feel well enough to protest as much as he probably should. He wants to curl up into a ball, bunched up in blankets, and go to sleep. He doesn't have the energy to be manicured and reassuring right now...

So,]

Okay

[He'll be huddled up in bed, clammy and shivering, a weird thermal paradox, when Hank arrives. He's in and out of awakening; time is weird and perplexing right now. Dazed due to fever, all he can do is feel like an idiot.]

action -->

[beathach]

[as promised, ten or so minutes later Hank has somehow managed to find Kaworu's room, and he gives a quiet knock before he steps in. Not only does he have tea with him, but he's brought over some medicine as well]

Kaworu? It's Hank.

[as far as first meetings in person go . . . well, at least there's been worse]

[paraclete]

[There have been worse, yeah, but this is still a pretty embarrassing way to do it. It's not his chaotic room that's embarrassing — there are discarded clothes and things like that everywhere, like Kaworu's forgotten about the concept of "putting things away." (There's also a curious thing leaning against one of the walls of the room, the right length for Kaworu to hold like a spear, but that's another story.) No, what's embarrassing is this horrible sense of weakness, of helplessness — Kaworu's a mess on his messy bed, grey hair a disastrous nest, face damp and flushed, a far cry from its usual paleness. He gives a great and ineffective sniff as he cracks his eyes open to get a bleary look at his new guest.]

Hello, Hank, [he croaks. Like, really croaks. His throat feels so awful.] I'm sorry.

[beathach]

[messy rooms and messy appearances are far from offending Hank in any way - and it isn't as though he can talk, considering the state of his office back home, or his room in another world. That, and even if he's never been a practicing doctor, someone being sick wasn't something that bothered him. It helped that he was quite incapable of becoming sick, at least naturally.

He approaches the bed and gives the teen a sympathetic look] Don't be, you look miserable. Can you sit up? I brought some medicine, too.

[paraclete]

Yes, [Kaworu says, for once so emotional that he can't keep himself from showing how sorry he feels for himself;] I feel miserable. [But despite this misery, or maybe even because of it, he doesn't want to be more of a burden on Hank... so he'll try to do as directed. He makes an effort to pull and prop himself up, sliding upright all slow and stiff... It mostly works, but his head throbs terribly and swims for a long moment, leaving him lightheaded, seeing blurs. He blinks through his exhaustion and agitation.]

You're very kind to... You're very kind. But this was meant to happen, I think... [Baw. He rubs his wrist underneath his nose, exhaling through his mouth.]

[beathach]

[meant to happen? His eyebrows furrow, but first things first: as soon as Kaworu's sat upright he reaches out with this free hand, the inside of his wrist pressing to the teen's forehead to check for fever. It was obvious enough, but, well - he's certainly a worrying type, and that extends to everyone.

The other hand holds out the tea]

These things aren't meant to happen, I'm afraid. They just do. How long have you felt like this?

[paraclete]

[He's unused to this sort of concern, and again, he's already overly emotional... so when Hank touches his forehead, Kaworu lowers his eyes, and his chin trembles slightly. He takes in a shuddery breath while he accepts the tea with both shaky hands.

How long as he felt like... this? Miserable? Around a week. But this, the physical part... well...]

The aching started several days ago. I thought that might be the prelude to death. My core... I thought it was starting to shut down. [He purses his lips while a small cough interrupts him; seems like he's trying to suppress it.] Or something.

[beathach]

[that sounds about par for course for the flu, but he has to pause, head tilting just a little in confusion]

I'm sorry - your core? [he'd picked up that Kaworu wasn't human, but now he was curious as to what that meant] Ah - but for humans, that sounds about normal. The symptoms present themselves before the rest of the illness does, sort of like a warning.

[paraclete]

My core, [and he pauses to shift around and hope desperately that his head stops feeling like it's going to explode (AGAIN),] my core is the part of me that keeps me alive. Unless it's destroyed, I have no reason to expire...

[And he never has any reason to get sick, either, so it's understandable that experiencing illness would lead him to believe that his core had run out of juice. That's not supposed to happen to Angels, but much of Kaworu's life is nonsense in the first place.

He peers at the tea, pitifully, before sipping at it. ...] I thought I wasn't able to fall ill. It made sense for this to be the end of all things. I can't believe... [He clears his throat, which hurts to do, so he ends up cringing into himself.] I can't believe human beings do this routinely.

[beathach]

Huh. [that doesn't explain too much, but "not human" is pretty clear. He wonders if the medicine he brought is pointless, but at least at the worst it won't do anything for his flu. At best, it'll help.

He watches him take a sip, then shifts to pull the pills out of his pocket - in a container, of course, which he opens first before offering them] Take two of these, hopefully they'll help with your throat and the cough.

[and then, a little wryly] You'd be surprised by what humans deal with routinely.

[paraclete]

[Kaworu is at least familiar with pills — in the earliest days, SEELE's scientists tried everything they could to keep Adam's soul from leaving its new body. They didn't want the human-like vessel of the child someday known as Kaworu Nagisa to crumble. But Hank is kind, never reminiscent of SEELE's doctors and scientists, and Kaworu is trusting of this attention. He accepts the pills and then takes two without any protest.

When he swallows, his eyes are cast low again, thoughtful and mournful both.] I am surprised by it, all the time. The humans who raised me — I was the first chance they had at understanding anything about Angels, but I didn't know anything about them in—

[He sneezes. He only barely manages to keep from spilling the tea all over himself, but the startle of the sneeze has more of an effect than that: the overhead lights blink off, then pause that way for a moment, before flickering once, twice, and then coming back on. Kaworu sniffs miserably, his head one big shock of pain from the sudden jolt.]

I didn't know anything about them in return, [he finishes quietly, throat raw.] Thank you, again, for coming. This is pathetic.

[beathach]

Angels? As in . . . biblical angels or something else entirely? [he knows better than to assume in this case, because in a world like this one, where everyone's thrown together, there's all types from all walks. And it helps that Kyriakos certainly gave him the experience needed not to just assume and leave it at that. Not that he would, being himself, but.

The lights flickering get a brief glance upwards, but he's used to powers going out of whack. He's never seen it come about from sickness, but from high emotions, sure]

You're welcome. And it isn't pathetic, really - it happens. You'll feel better in a few days and completely forget this even happened.

[paraclete]

[Squinting, and for several seconds, Kaworu wracks his addled, aching brain for Hank's meaning. Then — ah. Yes.] Oh, Lilin's fairy tales... Conceptually, [and here he's grown quite hoarse again, so he tries to clear his throat, wincing through it once more,] the humans who wrote those books had fine ideas of my kin, but they were wrong about what Angels really are... [Gingerly, he takes some of the tea again, this time a bigger mouthful. When it slides down his throat, it hurts, but it also... feels amazing... Kaworu shuts his eyes and sighs deeply once he swallows.

...]

I will never feel better again, [he says solemnly. HE'S FIFTEEN, have mercy.]

[beathach]

[if Kaworu wasn't sick, Hank would ask him to elaborate more. But as it is, he simply nods and accepts that much, filing it away for when the teen feels better] I'm not surprised.

[. . . he's sympathetic, he really is, but the dramatics still make him want to laugh. But he has an excellent poker face, thank god]

You will, I promise. You'll probably end up sleeping through most of it.

[paraclete]

[...]

Hank, [Kaworu asks, clutching his tea and shifting in bed to better face his admirable doctor,] have you ever questioned fate?

[beathach]

[what. What is this question out of nowhere]

Generally, I don't believe in it. But I've questioned it a few times regardless.

[paraclete]

[Another person who doesn't believe in the dealings of destiny. Kaworu's a self-righteous individual, but his fanaticism toward fate comes not from that, but from the desperate delusion that he must be fated to succeed.

He presses his lips against the rim of his cup for a moment, thoughtful, though muddled.]

Have you ever thought... that something bad was supposed to happen to you? But once it happens, it's frightening?

[beathach]

[he's quiet for a moment, until he takes a seat on the edge of the bed] Not . . . exactly. Not like that.

[even so, it hits home somehow, and he has to figure out how to word what he wants to say without it sounding as ridiculous as it sometimes sounds to him. He takes off his glasses to clean them on his shirt, a brief, anxious gesture before he puts them back on]

I don't think something bad is supposed to happen, but I think it will. Just because - that's how it always goes, when things are quiet. [when he and the other mutants from his world find some manner of peace and happiness] And that's pretty frightening.

Why? Do you think something bad is supposed to happen to you?

[paraclete]

When things are quiet, [Kaworu murmurs, nodding along and then regretting it because of his headache. He rubs at one of his eyes.] Because it's too good to be true? Right? There always has to be something...

[Trailing off, Kaworu thinks about himself, and about Hank, and how Hank says pretty frightening — Hank knows what fear is, but here he is anyway, having persevered. A person is strong. People are strong, while Kaworu lies here dwindling.]

I'm idiotic. There's a person... I made him unhappy. So I thought bad things would happen.

[beathach]

Exactly. That's how it always seems to go. [the incident with Winter had proven all of his paranoias right, and while the time on the hand-holding planet had done wonders for them all, now that they were stuck on the ships again that fear was creeping back.

Oh, does he know fear, though. It's always there, in the back of his mind, in one way or another.

He tilts his head when Kaworu speaks next, and there's another thing that hits home. Making someone unhappy because you did something . . . yet another road he's been down. Hank's tone is oddly understanding]

Because you think you deserve it, right? You did something wrong and now you expect - you deserve something to punish you for it.

[paraclete]

[Hank is so right that it's actually uncomfortable. Kaworu's never admitted to anything like this, except to things that weren't even sentient, shamed and secretive conversations with the only idle elements he could grow attached to. It's hard enough to even confirm this stuff to yourself. Having someone else spell it out for you isn't exactly pleasant.

His eyes cast downward. It sounds, too, like Hank is able to speak from experience. So perhaps there's a kinship here, but it's a humiliating kinship to acknowledge. Kaworu deserves the humiliation, though. He deserves punishment, and he deserves the humiliation, and he deserves to die from Lilin plagues.]

Everything has its consequences, [he mumbles.] Cause and effect. The world is meant to work that way. Forgive me; you came all this way and I...

[He cringes.]

I'm just tired.

[beathach]

If the world is meant to work that way, then why are there people who never experience it? [he asks it as though he's a teacher asking one of his pupils, gentle and curious. He can do more than just speak from experience; he can talk about what it does to a person, when you let it knock you down and keep you there, how it effects your every day, leaving one wishing for anything to distract from the terrible, bone-deep ache it causes.

He was still pulling his way back out of the dark place he let himself fall into, even now, months after he had some reconciliation, and weeks after the rest was finally talked about]

The world doesn't always play by the rules, I've found. It's unfair and unrelenting sometimes, especially in matters like this. Even when it gives you the punishment you want - it isn't enough.

[he gives Kaworu a wry half-smile] I won't ask specifics, but I will tell you it gets better. If there's a way to reconcile whatever happened, I'd suggest you do it. Otherwise . . . [he shrugs, the smile turning sheepish] Ten years will pass before you get the next opportunity, if it even comes along.

Don't apologize, though. Sometimes you need to get those things out.

[paraclete]

[Kaworu isn't often confronted with questions of fate: mostly, people either dismiss it or reinforce it. He was raised with the latter, and while he's discarded many of the teachings from his youth, some things stay with a person. He's definitely modified the meaning of destiny to suit his own needs, but... but... He frowns, more pensive than upset.] Every person is hurt, [he says,] somehow. Somehow...

[But Hank's right that it isn't enough. Kaworu has known those for whom skill outweighs sin, even when that sin deserves great retribution. Kaworu, on the other hand, has been trying very hard to be skillful, and still gets ruined by hairpin turns.

He can't imagine it getting better. He can't imagine anything good ever happening again, so long as Shinji is out of sight. This isn't like living underneath the stars — ten years, fourteen, Kaworu could do something like that. He's afraid of lifetimes. He's afraid of an ending he can't control. But surely, truly, Hank's efforts are kind, and...]

You're wise. It's more than I expected to hear from you... [He sniffs again, feeling pathetic when faced with someone who must be quite used to mortality.] You must speak with lots of people.