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 Evangelion WorkInProgress: Asthma 
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Chibi-Czar
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Post Evangelion WorkInProgress: Asthma
Asthma

She had never realised how quiet hospitals were. You couldn’t ever tell when you were unconscious after all, waking up in the silence of the night was something most would find scary. Not her; never scared.
She wasn’t the one in the bed this time though. She should be, she knew that much; the memories may be seen through hazy eyes but they remain, like footprints in dried concrete. Tied to them like an anchor was her most reliable set of emotions; rage, jealousy, sadness, they fed one another, becoming a maelstrom of discontent, something which her body often fed on to push itself further, whether in piloting or other pursuits. Ridding herself of these feelings was never something she had excelled at, an unusual thing in itself since she excelled in nearly everything she put her mind and body to. When she had nothing to expunge the feelings into bad thoughts often rose to the surface. Times she’d long wanted to forget, events that she could never pull from the back of her mind. They formed the face that she held inside herself. That laughed and pitied her; that watched and waited.

And for a short time, though it had been far too long, it had broken free and captured her soul. Until he had come, as he’d said he would. He had come, and pushed back the darkness for her when she could not manage alone.

And it tore her heart apart. Now he lay in the bed before her, with both of them surrounded by the whitest noise and the darkest night.

“Fucking idiot.” It was a rasp, that of a starving beggar, but it was all she could manage. “Fucking Wondergirl.”

She had been ranting, slamming every door within reach, cursing the very name of her saviour when that frail voice had spoken.

“Why do you hate Ikari?”

She had turned, not sure she had heard, so rare was it that the ‘doll’ of the Commander spoke.

“What First?”

“Why do you hate Ikari?”

“Because he’s a boring and stupid little boy who devotes his life to his fantasy of getting hold of my body!” She had snapped, her fist crashing against the already dented door of her locker as she spoke. “He should be dead, yet he is treated like some sort of hero, why? I’m the one with the best scores and most training, he’s just a stupid little idiot who doesn’t even have the spine to stand up for his own manhood. Pathetic is too high a word to describe him.” She turned and started for the door.

“Yet he saved you…” the frail voice made her pause her step. It whispered much like the voices in her darkest dreams, seemingly melting into her brain without effort. “He promised he’d help, and he did. Despite your actions towards him he still put you before himself. Forced himself out of containment and put himself in harm’s way. Why? I wish to know why…”

“How should I know, what is it to you anyway First?”

“If he ever wakes, I would like to understand why I wished to do the same for him and him for me…”

She sat now, staring at his lifeless body. The barest breath from his only sign of life. She had come here from the apartment, empty rooms and halls too much for her. In some ways she had to admit were warped, she had relied upon him. He had become a part of her life, sustaining her through the worst times simply through his presence in her life. He drove her onward, was the outlet for her feelings, and anchored her to this world. His greatest gift however was a simple one; he gave her peace, unaccompanied by darkness. They relied upon each other she knew. She brought energy and brightness into his life which had lacked any at all, a fire was lit within him, no matter how small, when she had arrived.
They had their problems too; she was too bright a flame to be next to his delicate shadow. He was like a candle; too much fire would burn him away. She was a storm, powerful but short-lived, always requiring fuel to continue to move.

How did she feel? How did he feel? Such things seemed unimportant right now. Reasons could wait, he’d been desperate to keep her flame burning bright, now she would see that his shadow would continue to flicker on.

And I was a cat, to your Asthma
And you were the smoke, to my Cancer,
And you were the care, to my violence
But I was the sound, in the silence.



-- This is something small I came up with in the middle of the night. It could be part of something a bit bigger, but I'd like some critique of my style and what I'm doing that's right and wrong. Cheers guys!

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Tue Oct 28, 2008 7:15 pm
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