View source for 2024-05-10: What's a Contrast?

*'''Log: 2024-05-10: What's a Contrast?'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Kaworu Nagisa]], [[Character :: Sizumu]]
*'''Where:''' Huffman Island
*'''OOC - IC Date:''' U.C. 0099-05-10
*'''Summary''': ''"You don't seem like someone who takes care where he steps."'' 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;''"Are you sure you don't care too much where you step?"''

----


 <Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.
<poem>
        There hasn't been any movement from the Galactron that touched down on Huffman Island recently. Still, that doesn't mean that anyone who knows anything about it can let down their guard. As what is essentially a footsoldier for a being that wants to bring about universal peace by exterminating all sapient life, any Galactron is cause for concern. The moment it ''does'' activate, there's no telling what kind of chaos will ensue.
        
        So while this is technically GGG's jurisdiction, they let NERV set up monitoring equipment here so they can also keep an eye on the draconic silver mech. There's some staff here for that reason, too, to tend to the equipment and make direct observations... and while Kaworu Nagisa is not part of that staff 24/7, he does have orders to come by to accept footage and reports and see the Galactron for himself once a week.
        
        He's already spoken with the staff here. Now he's strolling over to the ruins where the Galactron touched down and currently slumbers. Though the weather is hot and getting hotter, and Kaworu is wearing his administrator's suit, there's not a drop of sweat on him. He steps from stone to mossy stone, over and under the local greenery, until he's within admiring distance of the robot.
        
        It still sleeps. Kaworu does nothing to try to change this. Nor does he do anything to stop anyone else from approaching it, or him. Indeed, anyone who might step up next to him now will only get him to look their way with a lopsided smile.
        
        "Hey," he says in greeting.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Sizumu has posed.
<poem>
The vanguard. In medieval times, they were the first soldiers deployed. The ones who sought out the enemy, and prepared the grounds of assault in advance of the main force.

To the enemy, they are a sign of what is to come. That the invasion is not just imminent, but inevitable. The vanguard is a symbol.

A symbol of an ill omen.

In that context, it's hard not to see the Galactron for what it is -- an omen of what may be to come. Is it any wonder that, in an island rife with conflict, its sudden appearance has inspired the response it has? No. It's only natural.

Just like it's only natural that the nature that inevitably inspired this response may just be why this draconic kaiju is here to begin with.

It's strange. It's fascinating. It's a sign.

And that's why he's here today.

He's not supposed to be here. He -wasn't- here. It'd be very difficult for -anyone- to be here if they weren't meant to be; NERV and GGG aren't known for their ability to -not- run tight ships, after all. But in the drone of the heat, as light glints off the Galactron, all it takes is one small lens flare, one pivot of attention turning perspectives away from the tiniest sliver of space--

And then he's there, standing on a moss-drenched column of crumbling stone a short distance away from Kaworu. Like a sign.

He's short; dressed in white and purple, his gold hair pulled into a simple braid and partially covered by that cap with the distinctive pin that he wears. Fingerless gloved hands tucked into his pockets, his red-eyed stare is focused entirely on Galactron when Kaworu turns his attention on his new companion; like the rest of the world, all this security and staff, might as well not even exist.

'Hey,' says Kaworu with a lopsided smile. There's silence on the tan-skinned young man's part for five seconds.

And then those red eyes turn to glance at Kaworu from the corner of their gaze.

"Hey," he offers in return. His tone isn't cold, per se -- it's in fact rather easygoing; casual, even. Like he's just greeting another person who's supposed to be here right now, just like him. But there's a certain level of detachment to it all the same, which underscores the point:

He's -not- supposed to be here.

And yet...

"You're here to see it, too?"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.
<poem>
        One moment he isn't there; the next, he is. It's a mode of arrival that Kaworu is very familiar with, even if he doesn't employ it himself. There are those who would be startled, upset, even angered. Kaworu is none of these things. Though that much is plain, given that he greeted this newcomer first.
        
        It ''is'' an ill omen. There are omens everywhere. That is something Kaworu accepts, much like he accepts the presence of this person he doesn't know. Red eyes on red eyes--and yet silver to gold, black to white, pale to dark. It's like an inversion spiraling out from the same core.
        
        Similarly, when the stranger takes his time to actually look back at Kaworu and offer him a "hey" back, Kaworu waits patiently, as if this kind of conversational gap were likewise completely natural. (Given his long acquaintance with Rei Ayanami...) Perhaps he's not supposed to be here, but Kaworu doesn't mind that. NERV as an organization might, but Kaworu is not always on the same wavelength as them.
        
        "Yes," he replies. "It's one of my obligations. Though even if it weren't, I would still be here." He looks back at the Galactron. "Are you aware of what it represents?"
        
        Not what it ''is''. What it ''represents''.
        
        For while Kaworu may not know who this young man is, he senses in him something he recognizes.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sizumu has posed.
<poem>
Familiar.

But not.

There's a mote of curiosity in those red eyes as they regard Kaworu, so much like Sizumu's inverted reflection, before they turn back on the looming form of that space-spawned kaiju when prompted.

The young man's head tilts as he considers the question, even if there's no noticeable shift in his expression. That detachment really isn't too divorced from the ways of Rei; the superficial similarities there are obvious.

The reasons, though...

"It's a sign," he says in that level calm of his. "A sign that things are starting to change."

He looks out -- past Galactron, over the ruins dotting all around it.

"This place..." he murmurs, his voice pensive. How many wars have been waged here? How much blood drenches this island deep down into the soil? "There's only one desire here. It's singing a siren song to any who will take the time to listen."

A sweet siren song calling out for destruction.

The golden-haired youth's attention turns back to the Galactron.

"It listened; it answered. Why wouldn't it?

"That's the purpose of kaiju."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.
<poem>
        The reasons make all the difference. After all, they say the devil is in the details.
        
        Devil or Angel, Kaworu only waits for his answer. A sign that things are starting to change... "Yes. Though one could say that this world is always changing, that only makes it that much more true," he replies. "For change often comes in a cycle."
        
        He follows the stranger's gaze out towards the ruins and the greenery around them. His gaze is thoughtful as the stranger speaks. Destruction... Perhaps so. "The reverberations of Lilim will have certainly left their mark. But after death comes rebirth," he says. The buildings that once stood here are shattered and empty, but they're not devoid of life. Even now, plants and animals make them their homes.
        
        But if the Galactron awakens, there will certainly be destruction anew. The youth turns back, expressing that this is the purpose of kaiju.
        
        Kaworu nods once, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to say. ('Normalcy' is another thing that changes with the seasons.) "Is that song why you're here? Or are you here for the kaiju itself?" he wonders. Either way: "I don't get the impression that you're interested in stopping its rampage, should it start."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sizumu has posed.
<poem>
''Though one could say that this world is always changing, that only makes it that much more true.''

''But after death comes rebirth.''

"But they refuse to ever see that."

The words are subdued -- they lack malice, for all they sound like they should be a condemnation. They're just -- removed. Resigned. As if that view was simply the way things were, and nothing could ever change that.

"Every cycle inevitably comes to the same point it starts at," continues the be-hatted stranger. "Maybe the details change. But there's no escaping the beginning and the end. They bind themselves to that path with their decisions and act shocked over the senselessness of it all, even though it makes perfect sense."

His head dips; that gold braid spills over his left shoulder, dangling against the warm breeze.

"Because they never bother to stop and ask why."

Because the possibility might be more frightening than the reality.

Devil? Angel? Kaworu's new reflection standing by his shoulder, if nothing else, seems to offer nothing save his thoughts on the matter, neither urging to accept his view or trying to encourage a fight against it. Instead, he settles down, sitting on the stony outcropping and all the life that has continued to grow and find a way to thrive around it.

"I just wanted to see it," he answers simply, a smile on his face as he regards at that mechanical kaiju from afar. "A kaiju created by kaiju. I want to see what something like that looks like here."

What it does.

But it's that last comment that draws Sizumu's attention away from Galactron. Red eyes meet red eyes, and the tanned young man looks...

Curious.

"Why?"

Why doesn't Kaworu think he'd stop it?

Or why should Sizumu try to stop it?

He doesn't specify; but maybe those questions aren't really all that different.

</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.
<poem>
        "..."
        
        Kaworu's smile doesn't fade entirely. But it does dim as he gazes up at the Galactron. The same warm breeze that sets the stranger's braid away tousles his silver hair. What the stranger says is true; he knows that very well, if perhaps in a different context from what the stranger means. But it's such a hopeless perspective.
        
        Which is why he replies softly, "Even so, they struggle on to survive, and those who survive continue to love. And as that struggle continues and they keep love in their hearts, there are those who do come to see--who do stop and ask why. It may be only a grain of a vast beach at a time, but one day, together, they will rebuild themselves."
        
        The stranger sits. Kaworu glances at him and opts to remain standing, hands in his pockets. He takes in what they say thoughtfully. They just wanted to see it... this kaiju created by a kaiju.
        
        "Hmmm," he hums. He continues to watch him, and so their gazes meet when he looks at him.
        
        Why?
        
        "You don't seem like someone who takes care where he steps," Kaworu replies. The questions aren't all that different, but the answers they'd receive take different forms all the same. After all, if the stranger doesn't take care where he steps, he wouldn't care about stopping it anyway.
        
        "On which note, I don't mind if you've come here to see it. I don't mind if you stand back and watch should it awaken. But if you were to try to awaken it yourself or assist in its rampage, I'm afraid I would have to stop you," he adds. "Please keep that in mind."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sizumu has posed.
<poem>
Even so...

        Even so...

                Even so...

                        ... they keep love in their hearts.

The brim of the stranger's hat overshadows his eyes in the face of that softly-spoken answer.

"And that's why they keep coming back to the same beginning and end. No matter how many chances they get. No matter how many times it all starts over again."

He tilts his head up, staring at the clear heavens that hang so peacefully over the engine of destruction beneath them. Like a contrast. Like opposition.

"Because they can't get free."

From that seated vantage point, red eyes consider their opposite number. Fingerless-gloved hands stretch, bared fingerpads feeling the tranquil, springy padding of moss beneath them. His head tilts almost owlishly leftward at Kaworu's answer -- but he doesn't deny it either, like an implicit acknowledgment that his silver-haired opposite is right.

"Mm," he exhales. The warning comes, and as if compelled, his gaze turns back to the Galactron.

"That's fine," he answers in turn. "I'm not here to wake it up. It just felt important to see it." He lifts a hand, fingers tipping up towards the kaiju in the distance.

"The vanguard of the direction the world is moving."

That hand falls, settling comfortably on his knee. "But I don't need it to wake up. It's not my place. Someone else will. And someone else should. It should wake up.

"It should be free."

And Sizumu seems to contemplate in silence for a little while longer before he, too, adds:

"Are you sure you don't care too much where you step?"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.
<poem>
        The blue of the sky is so beautiful, but it's an illusion. It's only the scattering of light in the atmosphere. It's constantly changing depending on the angle of the light, the composition of the atmosphere. And yet, looking up at them from this vantage point, that blue feels like it might go on forever.
        
        Is a feeling enough to overturn nature? Or is a feeling exactly what binds one to nature in the first place?
        
        ''That's why they keep coming back to the same beginning and end, because they can't get free...''
        
        It's true that there is no more powerful shackle than that of love. Someone who didn't care about anyone, who was cared for by no one in return, would truly be free. Kaworu remembers those days well, so very early on. He's never regretted meeting Shinji and the changes that brought about in him, even if he has regretted hurting him. But...
        
        If love is what binds one (him) to the endless cycle...
        
        ...
        
        It's a troubling thought. It's troubling because it makes him feel understood. Kaworu hasn't felt this troubled since he confronted Alexis about what he was doing to Akane, and Alexis mirrored it back at him. It nearly ruined his relationship with Shinji this time around.
        
        Is that happening again? The same note in a different verse? A recurring motif?
        
        "..."
        
        Down from the heavens, his gaze sinks to the earth; then it moves sideways to his companion. He doesn't deny Kaworu's observation, but Kaworu didn't think he would. He watches him, listens to him. At the end, he says, "I see."
        
        It should be free...
        
        This is someone who will be trouble. Of that, Kaworu is certain. But he also trusts that this stranger is honest. He may have his own hopes in the matter, but this is someone else's stage, and he's only come to watch. Kaworu nods once in acknowledgement and remains silent, looking back again at the draconic giant.
        
        ''Are you sure you don't care too much where you step?''
        
        "...Those who live underfoot would probably say I care just enough," he replies, which is not ''quite'' the answer to the question asked. He reflects that his answer might be different if he weren't answering at a point when he'd been associating with Lilim every day for the past several years. He always feels more human the more time he spends with humans. And, conversely, the more isolated he is from humans, the closer he feels to his Divine spirit.
        
        This boy... he feels very familiar to him indeed.
        
        And so he looks over at him once more. "I'm Kaworu, by the way. Kaworu Nagisa. And you?"

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sizumu has posed.
<poem>
Is that feeling a key, or is it a shackle?

To the gold-haired boy, the answer is an obvious one. After all...

There's a reason why connections are called bonds.

If there's anything to be said about this new stranger in Kaworu's life, it's that he doesn't seem to see fit to rub Kaworu's face in that moment of wonder, that moment of doubt. He lets what he says stand for what it is, without comment or seemingly any direct acknowledgment of the troubles that seize Kaworu. Maybe he doesn't notice.

Maybe he simply sees no gain or pleasure in applying salt to a wound.

Whether that's better or worse is another matter entirely.

Instead -- instead, Sizumu's attention returns to that draconic silhouette, leaning forward to observe it with quiet, guileless interest. He is silent for so long a time, and yet he still seems focused, active. Those purple pupils seem to dilate just fractionally as he stares upon the giant with all the intent of someone engaged in intent conversation. A second passes.

And those red eyes finally shut as Kaworu finally provides an answer that does not quite supply what -he- thinks, but what -others- would.

"..."

He releases a quiet exhale after.

All the same...

"They would," his unknown companion concedes with lackadaisical ease. His hands settle on his knees as they draw inward to his chest.

"They'd keep saying it even when you had no room to step at all."

With that, the gold-haired youth rises smoothly to his feet. His hands lift, adjusting that white cap to an exactingly jaunty angle. Eyes fall on him.

And so that red-eyed stare falls upon its counterpart once more.

''I'm Kaworu, by the way. ... And you?''

He offers a smile. It's a small, casual thing. It's as genuine as anything else he's said and done today, and yet, just like everything else, it feels so...

Impersonal.
        Unbound.

"Sizumu."

His head tilts, eyes shutting with his smile.

"Let's talk again sometime, Kaworu," he says. He takes a single step back. Another...

"I'm curious about you."

... and stepping back into the empty air, he lets gravity whisk him away as he falls off behind the mossy covering of that pillar.

There's no sound of the sudden stop. And there's no one to be found if Kaworu were to look.

Just a name. And an interest.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.
<poem>
        Is it better or worse?
        
        It's neither. It's just different.
        
        For now, though, Kaworu is content to let the moments of silence that pepper their conversation continue. He adds another when the youth agrees with his answer and makes further observation.
        
        "That can't be helped," he says softly. "They're just so small."
        
        But still, he smiles back. It's impersonal, but it's also genuine. And it continues to be so, so familiar.
        
        "Sizumu..." he echoes. Then he nods. "As you wish."
        
        Kaworu can't honestly say he's curious about Sizumu too. He's not ''not'' curious, or he wouldn't have agreed, but...
        
        He's simply ''too'' familiar. It's hard to be curious about something one already knows well.
        
        He politely looks away when Sizumu steps off that pillar. He doesn't look down. He doesn't need to--any more than Sizumu would have.
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Phase 2]]
[[Category:Phase 2, Turn 1]]