Misato feels embarrassed for her, crumpled to the floor and naked, the carpet pulled right under her feet. It's not pity, no, that would imply more sympathy than she can muster. Just shame, because the world expects each person to be strong enough to always pull themselves up on their own, to know who they are and where they're going, always, leaving no room to allow weakness or to allow someone to shatter and be unable to pick themselves up without help. The thought occurs to her again that she should move closer, take the girl into her arms and comfort her like a mother, a sister, a friend would, but she-- can't.
In lieu of that she stands up instead and goes to fetch a towel from one of the cabinets, moves slow and deliberate, despite the momentary hesitation of seeing all the neatly folded cloths stacked by the diligent hands of one Shinji Ikari. It breaks her heart imagining him toiling for hours to keep up the house in the absence of responsible adults. Then it breaks her heart even more to realize that while Shinji begs for love by shaping himself into a dutiful son, Asuka begs for the same by playing the opposite role, and how unfair it is that she finds it so much easier to love the boy than the girl just because she was once him but she was never Asuka.
The towel in hand, she crouches low and offers it to the girl with apologetic eyes.
"People would do anything to save their own hides," adults would bleed dry a million children before they give up their dreams of immortality. A statement that rings so contrived that she needs to bite her lip before continuing.
"You can ask me anything, Asuka, I'll tell you whatever I know."
When she asked Kaji what he knew of SEELE, he warned her of ears pressed to the walls of their world. When she pressed Ritsuko, too, she warned him of watchful eyes. Section Two agents must be raising the volumes on their bugs right now, waiting for her to say the wrong words before busting in on them and dashing any illusions of privacy. But she doesn't care. She doesn't fucking care anymore. They could gun them both down now and she would feel little in the way of loss.
no subject
In lieu of that she stands up instead and goes to fetch a towel from one of the cabinets, moves slow and deliberate, despite the momentary hesitation of seeing all the neatly folded cloths stacked by the diligent hands of one Shinji Ikari. It breaks her heart imagining him toiling for hours to keep up the house in the absence of responsible adults. Then it breaks her heart even more to realize that while Shinji begs for love by shaping himself into a dutiful son, Asuka begs for the same by playing the opposite role, and how unfair it is that she finds it so much easier to love the boy than the girl just because she was once him but she was never Asuka.
The towel in hand, she crouches low and offers it to the girl with apologetic eyes.
"People would do anything to save their own hides," adults would bleed dry a million children before they give up their dreams of immortality. A statement that rings so contrived that she needs to bite her lip before continuing.
"You can ask me anything, Asuka, I'll tell you whatever I know."
When she asked Kaji what he knew of SEELE, he warned her of ears pressed to the walls of their world. When she pressed Ritsuko, too, she warned him of watchful eyes. Section Two agents must be raising the volumes on their bugs right now, waiting for her to say the wrong words before busting in on them and dashing any illusions of privacy. But she doesn't care. She doesn't fucking care anymore. They could gun them both down now and she would feel little in the way of loss.
Maybe she's beginning to understand.