CLAIRVOYANT.

reaction   …   ᴜ ɴ ᴇ x ᴘ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ ᴇ ᴅ,   but refreshing nonetheless   —   the momentarily headless suit of armor might have nodded. 

    ❛   th-that would be fantastic. thank you.   ❜

     All-knowing of risks at hand, he’s quick to adapt, assess himself into the situation as dactyls conceal themselves in empty pockets. Heels quickly turn in the soil, and he leaves without further notice -- thoughts lingering as warning spill forth.

     “ be sure to stray away from any water source while I’m --         ah, just be sure to stay where you are.

     “ shinji-kun... I must convey my undying endearment for you... “

          `   i don’t remember asking you for a lecture.                                   thanks, but no thanks.   `

     “ hm... to reject the advice... it’s not very wise --        wouldn’t an infection be fatal to the responsibilities you hold?

          `   i told you already;                           i’m  FINE.   `

     “ Lilin tend to endure unnecessary burdens, when they can crumble much too easily.        you’re wounded -- if it’s left untended to, an infection is sure to come.

    the same picture– same scene is painted in the canvas that is his mind; the illustration of tragedy. torment coils around him, constricts him from reach of the freedom he so desperately seeks, and keeps him in its tight grip. there is no escape from his own personal purgatory, for he’s to continue to endure these painful memories that flood back to him without warning. 

            “ huh – ? who are you? and why’re prying into other people’s business? ” 

     There’s a halt, and he looks on with surprise, watching Lucifer’s deluding snake coil around a still beating heart, veins punctured by deadly fangs, poison seeping into his body. What is foreseen is a tampered body, corrupted by the filth of human experimentation. Impurity flows through his blood, whilst intentions are so pure. It’s an enigma all on its own -- and Kaworu cannot keep the smile usually present, whisked away for the time being as crimson irises gaze into emerald.

❛   y-you haven’t seen my   …   head   …   anywhere, have you?   ❜

                                  SUFFER? NO, SHE didn’t suffer, she was exactly where she wanted to be, with her big brother && Farlan, the only two important persons in her life, the ones who CARED about her when no one did. 

                                  SHE PRESSED HER lips && clenched her fists. lies. everything was a lie. how could anyone be happy in a place like this? everyone seemed to hate them, just because they were from the undergrounds. the other’s word made her frown. she didn’t quite UNDERSTAND what he meant, yet something inside her seemed to know what he was talking about.

                  ❝ i’m NOT suffering, i’m happy being here. i couldn’t ask for anythin’ better. ❞

                                 SHE TRIED TO make up her words with determination, yet deep inside she didn’t think like that. sometimes, she wanted to GO BACK to the undergrounds.

     Gaze is quick to flicker, settling upon her frame, smile dwindling to a neutral line for a brief moment in time. He perceives as she makes it -- quick to defend what’s unraveled. Thus, he does not prod, doesn’t pry into what he already knows. So nothing is said for the time being, noiselessness settling between them -- as he leans against a railing that just so happens to be conveniently there. The wind breezes through alabaster locks, and lips part for just the slightest moment, humming in idle thought, before prophecies begin to fray, his voice carried into the air -- God’s messenger plays his part.

          “ I wonder -- why does fate place cruelty into the Lilin’s life? “

     Adam’s prophet makes sense of her destiny, detects demise coiled up in her heart. It’s one so unfair, so unpredictable and sudden -- but his words are carefully articulated. He makes sure to leave no hints, no sense of future predictions that are soon to unfold. He remains dignified with unblemished grace, and he straightens his posture, feet coming to descend upon a small flight of stairs presented before him.

          “ Happiness and sadness go hand in hand together.             They coexist -- and neither can be concealed by the other.

                                  SHE MOVED HER gaze towards the place the voice had come from.  ❝ of course i don it with pride! ❞ lies. she hated it. she could feel the RESPONSIBILITIES this uniform carried on her shoulders. but of course she didn’t want to be left alone, if her big brother joined, she joined too. after seconds of being immersed on her thoughts, she finally realized she didn’t know the person she was talking to. a sudden feeling of fear grew on her. who was this guy? ❝ why wouldn’t i don it with pride? i’m helping humanity. ❞ voice was now somehow softer than before.

     “ yet you seem to suffer due to that idea you’ve created. “

     Single appendage nestles underneath his chin, dactyls placed upon porcelain flesh that was far too impeccable to be of this world. Rosy tiers clamp shut into a visible frown, and eyes express sympathy -- the girl before him conceals her woes in order to appease, a story so very clear to him as it’s displayed before his feet. He hums silently to himself, before tiers part in the slightest notion, and he respires pleasantly into the air, and a smile is once again present -- a familiar trait displayed.

Nonsensical to those who’re blissfully ignorant, his words are. Yet, they are noticed. It’s a question which continuously lingers. A question to which Mikaela fears the answer for, knowing all too well the probability of the outcome. He remains ignorant himself, arrogantly plucking at whatever answers fit into his distorted sense of reality —– one to which plays fair. He acknowledges the stranger with the usual glare, unintentional, yet heavy upon whomever approaches. It’s with caution that Mikaela stops, and already does irritation seep through his tone of voice alone, answering the other as though their input is unwelcomed.      “—–That’s none of your business.” Perhaps it’s due to his growing familiarity with constant intrusions —– such a topic isn’t one to be spoken about so lightly.

     He isn’t dumbfounded by the antipathy conveyed -- expects it even, human nature still very present in the deluded blood of a tainted hybrid. Deemed as desolate, unfit for proper emotion, Kaworu takes this into account -- lets it flow with ease into his mind, wriggles it’s way until he connects pieces as though it were instinct. Thus, he mirrors Mikaela’s grimace -- crimson eyes clouded with falsified grief that feels all too real. He makes himself prone to the very raw emotion of sorrow, dons a smile that shows what a human’s sadness could do to tamper with one’s heart.

     “ Perhaps not -- but the question still remains.        Wouldn’t anyone paint the world as cruel after that?