the second child.

With a frustrated grimace upon her face, Asuka leans against the window of the classroom; arms folded, brows furrowing every few seconds, a clearly poignant thought plaguing the front of her mind. An ever persistent tapping and tapping made the entire situation all the more damning the more she allowed it to infect every moment of her waking life.

Good enough... what does that even mean? The more threats there are to your existence, Asuka, the more meaningless your existence becomes. You know that, don’t you? That’s always how this goes. So...

WHAT’RE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?

She grits her teeth, and tightens her fist. Lately, her EVA tests had not been particularly successful. Why? A penchant of reasons, none of which she was willing to acknowledge at that current moment. Why should she, when her synchronization tests were getting more and more difficult? How could that be, when she was quite literally designed to be perfect in every which way?

These questions... are really getting on your NERVES.

On her right, a draft was felt against her neck. She shivers, trembles, then brings her hands to her arms, hands tightening on the fabric of her school uniform. Though an eternal summer outside, the cold was incredibly brisk, terrifyingly so... an omen, perhaps.

“Did someone open a window or something!?” She exclaims loudly, refusing to turn her eyes to look around the classroom. “‘Cause if you did, close it NOW! I’m FREEZING over here!”

Voices beyond the sliding door. Scraping chairs on wooden floors. Laughter; sometimes boisterous, other times quiet and reserved. A briefcase in her hand that contains a great deal of materials that allow for her stay here to be without fault, and her integration into this new society to be relatively easy.

The same as always.

The sunlight filtering from the windows behind her, she grips her hands around the handle of the briefcase before placing her other hand on the door in front of her. How many times had she made this gesture before? Sweeping, grand, the kind of entrance befitting for herself: a prodigy, after all.

A tailored child. That was certainly her (definitely, most DEFINITELY).

She takes a final breath, and enters the classroom. The voices remain the same, though some turn heads at the woosh of the sliding door. She stands in the doorway, looking at them all - inspecting them - as she starts to make her way inside. 

Introducing herself is a cinch; writing her name on the board simply takes a few seconds - elegant, yet playful cursive. She turns around to the class, smile on her face - equally as playful, yet hiding in it a self-righteous arrogance (rightfully so; LOOK at these losers!). And in that sea of faces was a boy with completely wild hair - one that looked ripe for the picking, not too different from a boy at her past school; and maybe equally as wormy.

The sight of him makes her nostrils flare ever so slightly.

“Soryu, Asuka Langley. Charmed, I’m sure.” She says confidently, a chirp to her voice - a slight staccato, too. “I’ll be joining you this semester, but not ‘cause I have to be here. I’ve got a degree from America, if you must know. BU-UT I have so much to learn from duelists like yourselves!”

The last statement, even to her, reeks of sarcasm and saccharine falseness. But really, what more is there to learn from people like this? People like that boy with the crazy hair THINK they’ve got it all figured out, but they SO DON’T.

And in moments, her seemingly pleasant smile evaporates into an arrogant and proud one, as she points at an empty chair beside the boy in question.

❛   awawawa …  !   do clear the way!  ❜  she’s stumbling and fumbling with her tower of books and she knows very well it is going to come crashing down in a moment’s notice  (  please, make way!  it’s coming down! )        ——   𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇  !     @langlie

“HEY! Watch where you’re--!”

Before she can even comprehend what lies in front of her, Asuka lets out an enormously accusatory shout as one particularly large book lands square on her head.

She yelps, and covers her head instinctively.

“OOOOOW! No WAY!”

She exclaims, voice at a fever pitch as she massages the bruise likely forming on the spot between her hair clips, square in the center of her scalp. She rubs at her head violently, then looks up with a snarl growing on her lip, rapidly so.

“Do you have a BRAIN in there, or are you just COMPLETELY BLIND!?” She screams at the top of her lungs, enough to possibly shatter any glass that might be lying around. This was a school hallway after all; this woman must have been completely mad to assume that books THAT tall (really something else!) wouldn’t come crashing down at a moment’s notice!

Still, from Asuka’s point of view, the perpetrator was elegantly adorned woman that seemed, frankly, out of this world and impermanent; as though if Asuka blinked, she would vanish into a thin mist and return from whence she came. A strange phenomenon, and one that she did not get to see very often in these hallowed halls.

And while that was certainly enchanting in it of itself, to a certain degree, it merely made her livid with even further rage - squinting her eyes, furrowing her brow, and gritting her teeth at the sight. This woman was not necessarily her superior, but it would certainly not do her any good to simply explode in her presence (definitely NOT! Can you even imagine what would happen if it turned out this person was actually... important?)

She certainly seems important...

So, she allows herself a moment to reel it all back in (though GOD her entire existence just BOILS THE MIND - not boggles, but BOILS, that’s what you meant by that) and lets out a breathy scoff, jilting her head to the side and letting strands of her hair fall down her right shoulder. Her eyes, however, look off into the distance, an asymmetrical smile now present on her lips - though, the snarl that she previously had still remained in its shadows ever so slightly.

         ❝ … 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 ?? ❞ rei asks out of genuine curiosity. it’s not at an attempt to be snide or rude. even if asuka wasn’t talking about rei, she would’ve still asked. the girl pauses, then adds, ❝ i apologize for my delay today. ❞

“Y-ACK!” 

She exclaims as she jumps back with her eyes wide and teeth gritted, scream unnatural. However, she instantly pulls it back once her eyes make contact with the blue-haired enigma herself, a character who always seemed so above it all... and yet, why was it that her question lacked anything like either of those traits?

She lets out a small sigh, then shakes her head.

“It was just a thought, that’s all.” She begins, huffing a puff of air through her nose. She manages an asymmetrical smile, a nasty one at that, and allows the skin of the bridge of her nose to tighten. A smug, proud expression. “Don’t go assuming I think about you ALL the time, because I DON’T.”

She plays with a strand of hair, and scoffs at the very thought (appropriately so).

“Why not talk to myself sometimes? What’s the big deal? It’s not like it’s MY FAULT if SOME PEOPLE - hint hint - happen to hear what I say! Doesn’t mean anything, actually.”

“What….? What do you mean by that about Ayanami? I don’t get it….” Then again, most people annoy this girl, right? And himself? By the time Shinji realizes that he’s opened his mouth, it’s too late. So much for quietly talking to himself. Same habit and problem here, too.

“AAAA-ACK!” 

She sharply turns around to see him - The Third, the most lousiest louse that could possibly exist in the entire apocalypse-ridden world - eyes wide and mouth agape. 

“Were you listening in like a PEEPING TOM? EW!” She exclaims, fluttering her hands to the side as though shaking off a pesky bug. “I ought to swat you away for being such a CREEPER, but you’re lucky that I’m feeling generous today!”

She turns her nose up, managing to force a proud smile - how she was able to, however, was beyond her at that current moment. God only knows.

【 ⊳ 碇 】；

BUT EVERY TIME HE DOES, she just drags him down for it! She’s never had any need for his attention, has she? He’s tried to understand her and be nice to her, but she’s never given him the room!

❝ I’ve tried! ❞ Shinji’s voice breaks, frustration beginning to seep through the cracks. It comes quietly, but still present in the tightness of his fists, jaw, brow. ❝ I’ve tried, Asuka…but you never let me. ❞

It’s the first time he’s ever heard this sort of vulnerability from her, consciously being displayed to him. But there’s no way it’ll last. It’s just ambivalence, and soon she’ll go right back to reminding him how worthless he really is.

❝ How can I help you if I don’t even know how? ❞

“YOU... YOU... YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HOW! It’s not MY job to tell you... to tell you...!”

She stumbles over her words, taken aback by the frustration in Shinji’s voice (or so she interprets). Someone being disappointed, frustrated, or even indifferent towards her was enough to send her into convulsions. Within the recesses of her mind came a voice that was simultaneously both loud and quiet, whispering and screaming in her ear the truths behind her various insecurities.

Asuka... nobody cares about you. Nobody hears you. Most of all, nobody LOOKS AT YOU.

ESPECIALLY NOT SHINJI!

She balls her hands into fists, then furrows her brow.

In an instant, she goes swinging in Shinji’s general direction - not landing blows, but striking the air around him with slight swf, swf, swfs. 

“IDIOT! IDIOT! IIIIIDIOT! You’re just as worthless as you LOOK! You haven’t done ONE THING for me or for ANYONE ELSE! All you care about is... IS YOURSELF! YOURSELF! YOURSELF! EVERYONE AROUND YOU SUFFERS and you’re too busy WHINING about COMMANDER IKARI!”

She stops, takes a sharp breath in. Exhales. Then, lowers her head, bangs covering her eyes as her entire body begins to tremble.

“You’re the worst... the absolute worst!” She mutters under her breath. “I don’t even get it. What’s so GREAT about Misato? About... about the First?”

She shoots her head up to face him, suddenly overtaken by pure, unadulterated rage once again. An ebb and flow of emotion; such was Asuka’s way of being (Unfortunately, can’t argue with that...).

“Ayanami doesn’t even SMILE. She’s so smug and above it all, and you cater to her like a LAPDOG. It’s DISGUSTING.”

A small, soft scoff is followed immediately by a slight smile - a mixture of mocking and something else entirely; an unreadable, perhaps even defeated, smile.

Defeated... why defeated? What did he even do?

001.    THE  FAIRY.

chipped nail polish.  glitter highlight.  tall trees with smooth bark. tangled hair.  the taste of cinnamon sugar.  talking too loud and too fast. overgrown flowers in your hair.   crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature. flirting. walking home at three am with no coat. platonic hand holding.   blowing smoke out of your nose.   dragonfly wings.    chaotic good.   freckles.   fairy rings. secret meetings.   gender nonconformity.  leather.   smudged eyeliner. forbidden fruit.

002.    THE  REAPER.

computer errors. a shiver down your spine.  haunting beauty.   hard liquor.   crowns of thorns.  shadowed alleyways.   decaying plant matter.  shattered mirrors and broken glass. corrupted memories. stopped clocks. the scent of stale cigarettes.   tattered black hoodies. walking your friends home. the crescent moon. the sea. a graveyard on a foggy day. cold rings on cold fingers.  absolution. looking out of the window of an airplane. soft kisses.

003.    THE  WITCH.

graffiti. pretending to know what you’re doing. worn paperback books.  growing up too fast.  parsley,  sage,  rosemary, and thyme.   lace and combat boots. moth wings.  candles on every surface.   a weathered deck of cards.   turning the music up.  fireflies in jars.   calloused fingers.   drawing on your skin.    sunlight filtering through clouds.  petrichor.   a dying rose in a jaw. wearing a crystal pendant.   illusions of spells.   black cats.   mint gum.   chapped lips.   dirt under your fingernails.   the cycle of life and death.

004.    THE  WOLF.

murders of crows.  frostbitten leaves.  wolves howling at midnight.   knocking on your door.  leaving food out for stray animals.   the twang of an acoustic guitar.   honey.  tiny red buds on trees.  claw marks on the walls.   golden eyes.   slightly too long stubble.   knitted fingerless gloves.   sleeping on the forest floor.  always find your way back home.

I WON’T TELL YOU ANYTHING!

🏹- For a talent they wish they had: 

“Don’t tell ANYONE, but I’d really love to read minds. Think about it! You’d know everyone’s secrets, and they wouldn’t even get to hide anything. You could know EXACTLY what they think of you at any time, place, or moment in the day. There’s no hiding from anyone, and nobody can lie to you. It would be PERFECT! I deserve to know what people think of me - I’m great after all!”

📒- For a secret journal/diary they keep (Bonus: Share an entry from it!): 

“Times that Shinji looked my way today: 6, but all 6 were instigated by me. How can I get him to look my way without me looking? Am I not beautiful enough? He’d BETTER look my way, DUMBASS! He’s a total IDIOT if he doesn’t see what an AMAZING GIRL I AM! Not just my expert piloting, but my INCREDIBLE LOOKS too. Did I mention INCREDIBLE, YOUTHFUL LOOKS? I’m not an old lady like MISATO, yet he looks at her WAY MORE than ME! That’s NOT RIGHT! I’ve gotta get his attention again somehow... I’ll try again tomorrow. But not because I like him or whatever! No WAY!”

👻- For something that scares or disturbs them, but they refuse to tell anyone:  

【 ⊳ 碇 】；

❝ IT WAS YOUR TURN last time, Asuka! ❞

So their living arrangement isn’t exactly perfect.

But so it was, and it doesn’t show any sign of changing even after the sortie against the seventh Angel. Their synchronization with each other managed to last until the very end of that battle before almost immediately falling apart. That’s led them here, arguing over the channels again.

God forbid he sate his curiosity about life before the Second Impact. It sounds and feels as though the two are going to bicker again ( and Pen Pen backs off accordingly ), but before Shinji even has a chance to retaliate any further, Asuka’s demeanor quickly shifts to something more sly.

And then she gets the wrong idea, completely.

❝ Huh? ❞ She’s dead wrong, but Shinji goes beet red at the suggestion, which does nothing to help his case. ❝ Wh-what are you talking about? It’s not like that! ❞

“Eeeeh, I’m not convinced. The look on your face gives it aaaall away. Haven’t you heard about maintaining a poker face, Idiot Shinji?” She replies harshly, hand touching her cheek and eyes slanted in disbelief. Everything he said was simultaneously both disingenuous and honest at the same time (more DISINGENUOUS though!) - how could she possibly take any of it seriously?

Even Pen Pen knew better than to participate in such a ridiculous battle between the two of them - petty, maybe, but this was less about the television channels and more about, well...

What’s he REALLY like? How can you get him to really talk?

“I bet you’re thinking some really dirty thoughts under that red face of yours! That totally gives you away! Look at that, right AGAIN! Score 1,000,000 for Asuka, and 0 for Idiot Shinji. You couldn’t even argue your case - probably ‘cause you’re too caught up in your own thoughts to answer.”

She scoffs, smile widening - teasing, accusatory, and simultaneously excited herself at teasing him further.

“Was it the bikini-clad women, or maybe... oh! Was it the kiss scene in that movie earlier? I BET it was THAT!”

Suddenly, a light illuminated her mind - a profound idea, something truly incredible that could get him to spill the beans once and for all. Oh Asuka, you clever girl! You’ve really got it this time!

I WON’T TELL YOU ANYTHING!

👁‍🗨- Talk about someone/something you like, but pretend to dislike:

“Good luck tryin’ to clobber me girlie, I’ve experienced a full on rebellion.” She said, biting back a scowl. What was the deal with this one? Staring at her like she had what? Three heads or something? She’s always spoken, maybe not too often around people, but definitely around her friends and acquaintances 

So imagine a girl, out of nowhere, coming around to gape and stare and yell at her! Scarlet has lived through more than enough to take this girl’s attitude, and being threatened certainly didn’t save this girl’s case here.

“Maybe if I’d been in a better mood, I’d have probably tried to tell you whatever I knew already, but you seem to be lookin’ for a fight. You got one chance before I kick your ass to hell.”

“REBELLION SCHMELLION!” Comes her almost instantaneous reply, hands on her hips. “Who CARES about that!? You’re A TALKING STARAPTOR! Doesn’t that matter MORE than justifying... WHATEVER YOU ARE!?” 

Politeness and Asuka simply did not mix, especially when physics-defying matters like this were at stake. How was it possible that this bird was challenging her to a fight without even considering what her question was in the first place (well, you DID kind of overreact, don’t you think? There’s that weird penguin-thing back home that Professor Katsuragi has on hand...).

Oh right. Yeah. There WAS that.

She raises her hand up for a moment, the image of the penguin in question - an Empoleon known affectionately around her hometown as Pen Pen - and scrunches her eyes shut.

“...Hold up. Wait wait wait. Waaaaaait a second.” She says, drawing out her vowels firmly. True, her first impulse was to fight - but in reality, she was not exactly for aggressively beating up defenseless creatures either. However, this talking Staraptor (KEEP COOL, ASUKA) HAD apparently seen war before. Or something like that; who knew what war was like for talking Pokemon? 

“...I’m not actually gonna beat you up. So let’s pretend THAT didn’t happen, okay?” How uncharacteristic of her - yet, this Staraptor did not appear to be male in any capacity. The strength of her voice, too, sent Asuka into a moment of (could it be...? No way...)... shame, that she had reacted in such a manner at all. “I don’t fight defenseless creatures. That would make me... y’know, unprincipled. I only beat up pervs, losers, and whiners. But the list could grow. You never know.”

She hangs her head for a moment - a child scolded by a disciplinary adult.