Asuka Langley Soryu (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
redheadcarrier) wrote2010-03-24 03:36 pm
redheadcarrier) wrote2010-03-24 03:36 pm
[OOC | DDD | Meme] 5 + 1
Comment with a 5 + 1 list and I'll write a little drabble about it! Include the name of the characters, the ship (if applicable), and a general rating to go along with it.
Example: Five times Asuka didn't use the turbo bass and the one time she did.
Just for Asuka. ♥~
Example: Five times Asuka didn't use the turbo bass and the one time she did.
Just for Asuka. ♥~
no subject
no subject
1
Despite the looks in the corridors, despite the flabbergasted expressions of her professors, she held herself high and ignored the whispers. They died away when her classmates realized that they could go to this girl for help on some of the most difficult problems that were being thrown on them. She scored well in her classes. She graduated after her fourteenth birthday with a double major. It was one of the best days of her life (even if it rang slightly hollow deep down inside). On that day, she stood on the stage with her diploma in hand, alongside her older and taller classmates, a triumphant grin on her face. People knew who she was and she wasn’t about to let them forget.
(( Apologies for being short. xP ))
+1 [1/2]
When he leaves her, all she can do is cry alone in her room. She dares not let anyone see. After her mother died, she wasn’t going to cry anymore. She tries not to let her few friends from the community see her. The only one who does is Yukari. Asuka never talks about that night spent curled up against her friend, bawling her eyes out, again. She buries it deep.
It takes most of her meager savings to afford him the dignity of cremation. There’s no stone to remember him by. She can’t properly intern him. There’s no money for it. She dusts off a dull, dark-colored dress and wears it to the small ceremony, where they scatter his ashes over the sea. She hears the condolences, but none of it reaches her.
The next few weeks are a miserable blur when she remembers them. She works to try and keep herself employed and a roof over her head, moving mechanically. She’s almost fired once or twice. As weeks turn to months, the pain eases. She still can’t remember him without a twinge of sorrow, the pain of regret. They didn’t have enough time, never did things they wanted to do. He was never able to see Germany.
Germany. Her homeland. It takes her the better part of a year and some help from the community, but she moves back there. She leaves Japan behind her, another finished chapter of her life. She leaves behind friends and memories and something she can’t put her finger on. She’s in Berlin again and it’s different from how she remembers it, but at the same time so very much the same.
She moves through life. She manages to get into post-graduate school and goes into physics and engineering again. She’s a fast learner, like she’s always been, and by age twenty-two she has a masters. By twenty-five, she’s managed a doctorate. She manages to get a job and she lives. She enjoys her work and she realizes one day that she’s doing things that her mother must have done.
The thought pleases her.
But she carries memories of a world that’s dead and gone to her, missing in action. As she becomes engrossed in her work, she frequents the community less and less. The day comes when she can no longer find it. She keeps up e-mail with Iwatodai, though. Yukari, Minato, Naoto – they keep her updated and they talk about the old times.
It’s a cool day in December when she comes back to Iwatodai. She’s just turned thirty-four and she’s finally taking some “me-time” as she calls it. Her boss understands (well, after the brow-beating she gave him anyway). She gets her rental car and after checking in at the hotel (one of the better ones in the city; she can afford nice things like that), she drives to a small point overlooking the sea. For a few minutes she just stands there, listening to the waves crash against the shore.
She remembers. She remembers a time so long ago when she was a pilot and she lived for the fight and to be heard and seen and recognized for all that she’d done (the irony is that she’s published by now and she’s well-known – at least in the scientific community), of that strange world that seems so much like a dream now. A dark-haired, timid boy who simply and slowly vanished from her life. A red-eyed, quiet girl who may as well be dead for all she knows or cares. The caretaker who’s age she’s probably surpassed by now. Her first crush. The Commander.
+1 [2/2]
She remembers the giant fighting machines they called Evas, the fights, the trauma, the anxiety, the nightmares she still occasionally has. The visions and feeling of being torn limb from limb which still wakes her up some nights. Her mother. Her father.
She remembers a pale boy with strange crimson eyes. It’s been almost twenty years now and she reflects that her life has moved far too quickly. More quickly then she wanted it to, at any rate. There was supposed to be fame and glory some inner voice whispers to her. She brushes the feeling away and she imagines she can see the last shreds of childhood dreams and fears being torn away by the breeze.
She remembers the boy with gray hair. The one who held her hand and brought her horrible tea and stayed with her through sleepless nights. The one she taught to play video games, who never did grasp the idea of fashion or human emotion. The violin duets (she still plays), the arguments, the threats. The small touches and looks. She remembers all of it. Finally the tears come again. So much gone and so much gained.
She thinks she would trade it all for one more chance at the life she could have had.