Asuka Langley Soryu (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
redheadcarrier) wrote2017-03-20 06:30 pm
redheadcarrier) wrote2017-03-20 06:30 pm
take a promenade
Asuka hates everything.
The curse of the Eva. What a joke. Maybe if she'd known about it, she'd have never climbed into the stupid thing (that's a lie). It's been fourteen years. Fourteen long years and haflway through, she realized that she wasn't just a late bloomer. She wasn't going to get any taller. She wasn't going to change. She was stuck. A gangly, half-grown young woman with the eclectic cocktail of puberty stuck in her brain. She was never going to be an "adult". No one was ever going to look at her and see anything other than a snot-nosed brat. It doesn't matter that she's one of the defenders of humanity, it doesn't matter that she's spent her life getting smarter, getting better. She looks like a fourteen-year old and people still ask her if she's lost or if she should be in school. They still ask for her ID every time she drives (she has to scoot the seat forward so she can reach the pedals). It's a miracle they let her live alone.
At least she doesn't have to share an apartment with Misato anymore. She spent four miserable years living with her and putting up with her fake cheerfulness and her sloppy messes and her blatant favoritism. When she turned eighteen (not that she'd changed) she left. She'd had one last screaming match for good measure and then dragged her boxes and boxes of stuff out with her. Not that she even wanted half of it, but she wasn't going to leave it behind.
The next morning she'd stared at Misato across the table in the briefing room, a mug of coffee in front of her as if to say, "Look, I'm one of you now." They didn't talk much outside of work now. "Work". Saving the world was her day job. What a goddamn mess.
Not that she had (or kept) many friends. Just Hikari, but Asuka could see the discomfort in her eyes from time to time when they went out. Especially now that Hikari is almost old enough to look like Asuka might be her daughter or a younger cousin or something. By now Asuka avoids most social functions. Of course, NERV has one of their stupid semi-corporate get-togethers. She despises Japanese work-culture, but if she doesn't show up, she's going to get a lot of grief because why wouldn't the star pilot not want to be there?
She forces a smile on her face through the first hour or two of the night, acting the part of the social butterfly, trying to ignore the double-takes that the newbies give her. By hour three, she takes up a permanent position at the bar (it's all on the UN's tab, why not enjoy), official ID slapped down on the smooth wood before the bartender can say anything smart about a Shirley Temple.
By hour four, she's buzzed and on her way towards being completely smashed as she asks for another drink. She doesn't care what, she just wants the alcohol.
Fuck all of you, she's over twenty-one.
The curse of the Eva. What a joke. Maybe if she'd known about it, she'd have never climbed into the stupid thing (that's a lie). It's been fourteen years. Fourteen long years and haflway through, she realized that she wasn't just a late bloomer. She wasn't going to get any taller. She wasn't going to change. She was stuck. A gangly, half-grown young woman with the eclectic cocktail of puberty stuck in her brain. She was never going to be an "adult". No one was ever going to look at her and see anything other than a snot-nosed brat. It doesn't matter that she's one of the defenders of humanity, it doesn't matter that she's spent her life getting smarter, getting better. She looks like a fourteen-year old and people still ask her if she's lost or if she should be in school. They still ask for her ID every time she drives (she has to scoot the seat forward so she can reach the pedals). It's a miracle they let her live alone.
At least she doesn't have to share an apartment with Misato anymore. She spent four miserable years living with her and putting up with her fake cheerfulness and her sloppy messes and her blatant favoritism. When she turned eighteen (not that she'd changed) she left. She'd had one last screaming match for good measure and then dragged her boxes and boxes of stuff out with her. Not that she even wanted half of it, but she wasn't going to leave it behind.
The next morning she'd stared at Misato across the table in the briefing room, a mug of coffee in front of her as if to say, "Look, I'm one of you now." They didn't talk much outside of work now. "Work". Saving the world was her day job. What a goddamn mess.
Not that she had (or kept) many friends. Just Hikari, but Asuka could see the discomfort in her eyes from time to time when they went out. Especially now that Hikari is almost old enough to look like Asuka might be her daughter or a younger cousin or something. By now Asuka avoids most social functions. Of course, NERV has one of their stupid semi-corporate get-togethers. She despises Japanese work-culture, but if she doesn't show up, she's going to get a lot of grief because why wouldn't the star pilot not want to be there?
She forces a smile on her face through the first hour or two of the night, acting the part of the social butterfly, trying to ignore the double-takes that the newbies give her. By hour three, she takes up a permanent position at the bar (it's all on the UN's tab, why not enjoy), official ID slapped down on the smooth wood before the bartender can say anything smart about a Shirley Temple.
By hour four, she's buzzed and on her way towards being completely smashed as she asks for another drink. She doesn't care what, she just wants the alcohol.
Fuck all of you, she's over twenty-one.