Kaworu isn’t so much embarrassed as he is stunned. His coordination is obviously lacking and his head spins a bit as he tries to regain his composure. Dirt smears along the front of his shirt and jacket, and smudges on his cheeks as well. He spits out the red sediment from his mouth and crinkles his nose as he pushes himself up.
He reluctantly takes the others hand, pulling himself to his feet and expecting himself from head to toe. Grace was always his forte but that impression has flown out the window. He must look like a klutz.
“ Thank you… Again, I apologize. ” Kaworu restated before he brushes himself off. It doesn’t do much good since these clothes are already stained and torn.
“ You don’t need to help me. I can simply be on my way. ” Pulling the hood over tightly, he briefly makes eye contact with the raspy sounding gentleman.
It’s sad to see. The guy seems to be in a worse state than Shinji could see at first. He wants to get a better look at his face, but Shinji allows him to keep some dignity after that rough tumble, so he doesn’t pry. He’ll save that for when he gets a chance to look at him under some proper light.
“I’m offering to take you somewhere that’s safer. We’ll take anybody in. We’re in this hellhole together, so there’s no reason for us to avoid helping each other. We have plenty of food and water, so...” Shinji putters out. He doesn’t have a good constitution in making words sound convincing, but damn it, he’s not going to argue over the matter of safety and well-being with a total stranger. Forget any formalities about it, while he’s at it. Shinji has seen too much to let something like this go right past him. Never mind his familiar sounding voice.
Shinji had begun getting antsy himself being out in the open like this, and he has to cover another cough when his lungs began to feel too tight again. But the choice was an easy one to make: Shinji grabs the guy’s hand and begins tugging him back towards the lift.
“Let me make sure you’re okay, and you can do whatever you want after that."
Shinji stares at first, mouth agape. The voice was beginning to sound more and more familiar, bringing with it the equally familiar pain of having lost something. Something very important. Moreover, Shinji didn’t believe he could fully embrace the experience of feeling such things anymore, after having been dulled of feeling it nonstop for years. Like a hunger gone ignored.
It’s too soon to concern himself with that. More importantly, it looks like another wandering survivor--few as there are now, but one will occasionally make their way across the plains. And they will need to be brought back to base for their own safety, plus a medical evaluation. The stranger doesn’t appear to have any protective equipment, or anything at all, and it looks like he has been out here for days...
“...Oof. Are you okay?” Shinji asks dumbly again, although with a renewed purpose for the fact that the guy went down. He doesn’t hesitate to help him back up, either, extending his hand.
“Come on. You shouldn’t--ugh--” Shinji paused, turning his head to wheeze softly, before continuing, “you shouldn’t be out here like this by yourself.”
do you like angels?? do you like ANGEL BOYS?!?! what about angel boys with constant internal distress?????? then you’ll probably love this boy because he is a literal angel ♡ LIKE AND/OR REBLOG if you’d be willing to play with a canon divergent Kaworu Nagisa from Neon Genesis Evangelion!! I’d love to crush you with sweet angst and tears ♡ { written by Danish! }
Time passes quickly, even in death you don’t have the chance to breathe. Or was death even encountered? It felt like the breath had only been knocked out of him, put him in a restless slumber and choked him of all the senses. It wasn’t as petrifying as most expect, but it wasn’t anything pleasant either.
It’s cold outside, something Kaworu never thought about on the surface. He hadn’t relied on his body, his Adam form, to keep him in a level of comfort. Comfort was just a fantasy humans put themselves into to remain steady, to remain calm. A lot of humans in this world sought comfort, and Kaworu had once found it himself. In the presence of a certain other.
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It’s the same ugly red landscape that Shinji has accustomed himself to, now glowing with an eerie amber haze as the sun begins to set. Time to clock in, as dusk allows the best window to access the surface.
It’s far too hot during the day, and temperatures plummet in the evening. So dusk is the compromise.
The last remnants of light are suitable enough for collecting data, anyway.
Shinji doesn’t come up by himself, either. His team will venture to the surface with him, but Shinji will almost always split off to work alone. The rest, all able-bodied and in healthy condition in comparison, will section off a new area to begin digging, looking for any resources. Land to be reclaimed.
It’s just like digging up a grave, if Shinji really wants to think about it. Which he does, but he doesn’t actually want to, no.
In fact, Shinji doesn’t think too much about things at all, unless it’s job related. All he needs to focus on is passing his handheld scanner over topsoil. Dig out any slightly less red-looking samples, if he can find any. When the scanner’s task is complete, it beeps. Shinji moves to a new section, pausing only when his breathing hitches and he needs to cough into his sleeve.
Relatively speaking, his existence is pretty simple.
In the distance, Shinji can see a few of his colleagues, looking more like phantoms through the darkening red haze. Work hats tell him that they’re familiar enough, though, and he doesn’t trouble himself further with whatever they might be discussing. Shinji wanders off, distancing himself from them as he checks the next section, certain now that he can’t see or hear their muffled voices anymore. A cold gust of wind pushes a wave of red haze and dirt over him, forcing another wheeze to bubble in his chest.
But like it didn’t happen, Shinji resumes scanning the ground. A few moments pass, he hears a beep, and Shinji readies himself to move onto the next disappointment of more of the same.
Except, something frightfully unfamiliar grabs at him. A figure, too far from trajectory to have wandered out this far from base. Someone Shinji, even from this distance, can’t recognize (seeing the same faces for roughly ten years, it will take more than mist and darkness to make it difficult to recognize someone from his own base).
Stunned, it takes a moment for Shinji to find his voice, but self-preservation takes a back seat to curiosity, and Shinji doesn’t hesitate to approach. They could be hurt.
“...Hello? Are you okay?” he starts, and then a heavy weight drops in his stomach when he hears his voice. Not one Shinji can easily pinpoint, but that ache is something he can’t forget.
It really can’t be. It shouldn’t be.
Swallowing hard, Shinji repeats himself. Louder, almost indignant to spite himself.
“Are you okay? You look...”
He has a lot of questions. Even more than what he had before he went to the community center this evening. It’s to be expected that Shinji would feel like he is missing something as a result of trauma-induced amnesia, but there’s so much more to it than that.
The things he has done in the last two years--they all feel like the actions of a complete stranger. Shinji can’t say that the same person truly exists now, although he himself was the one who survived through whatever happened.
And Rika. Shinji can’t understand his history with her. Apparently, she has nothing to go off of at all. He can’t consider them strangers with memories when the memories don’t exist. But without even thinking, he knows her name. He knows that she likes her coffee black. Shinji also knows that he’s happy when he sees her, but it hurts at the same time. Knowing Rika is still unhappy...
Still.
Shinji’s head throbs. It will take some time for the headaches to go away, or for him to get used to having them. Whichever comes first.
That’s right! It’s his birthday--! Or, it was. It passed just like a regular day, though, so it is not unlike every other year up to this point...aside from the raining cats. That was a nice surprise.
It took some time before Shinji could string coherent thoughts together. He still can’t recall everything that happened, and all he remembers from the last few days (weeks?) consists nothing but sleeping and staying in bed.
He must have hit his head really hard.
But before that, he remembers that there was something that had to do with Rika. He remembers the explosion before he got knocked out. He has no idea how he ended up in the hospital, and he now has rehabilitation therapy to look forward to before they will let him go home.
As soon as Shinji sends Chiaki his address, he begins to wonder if he should be at least a little more sketched out. He has never done this before, but a lurch in his gut reminds him that he has also never been this sick before.
Speaking of which, he doesn’t want this virus spreading to other people–especially someone nice enough to help him. By sheer luck alone, Shinji happens to have a few face masks handy (he bought some in advance in case one of the volcanoes erupted–air pollution is just as dangerous as hot death, even though it may not be as imminent).
Now covering his face, Shinji reaches for his phone again.
[text:] I can’t tank you enough. I’ll think of a way to repay you that isn’t lame
[text:] Nonsense! A hero would never expect repayment for his help.
[text:] Besides, we’re all stuck in a similar situation on this island, so we should be helping each other, right? It’s the right thing to do.
After this, Chiaki put his phone away and focused on finding the location he’d been given. He had rushed as fast as he could for this poor soul. Fortunately, it didn’t take him too long to locate the address he’d been given, and he knocked on the front door, calling out loudly to ensure that he would be heard by the inhabitant inside. Also, because he’s a loud person.
“Ikari, I’ve arrived to help you to the hospital! If you’ll meet me at the door, I’ll quickly carry you there!“
Shinji looks at his phone at length, unable to form a coherent reply--not even because he’s sick, but because Chiaki has him stunned. Shinji can count on one hand the genuinely kind people he has encountered in his life, and every single one has been equally baffling to him.
However, there is more to worry about right now--the loud knocking combined with yelling startles Shinji into motion, and he quickly tugs on a hoodie and wraps himself up in a blanket--
“Wait, you’re gonna carry me?” Shinji asks, more to himself than anything. It wouldn’t be a problem for anyone to carry him, since Shinji is already underweight and short, even for his age, but he decides against questioning it and moves to open the door for Chiaki. He would be nervous and uncomfortable about this whole thing if he wasn’t already so exhausted, but that is exactly why he is in this situation to begin with.
Avoiding debris, flying robots and laser beams. Boy what fun. Not really actually, Epona was horrified beyond belief and Link was struggling his hardest at not letting her get hit by any of the onslaught. You could say all of his attempts to avoid it is what lead him to finding a boy knocked unconscious on the ground, with a pool of blood beneath him. Hero senses tingling, Link pulled Epona to a halt and jumped from her saddle. He quickly hoisted Shinji from the ground and placed him on his horse before re-mounting her. Next stop: gotta find that pretty doctor lady he had met recently. She could fix this guy, probably.
There’s no telling how long Shinji had been unconscious before someone finds him, but he has just enough lucidity left to recognize that he is being moved. He can’t place how, and when he tries opening his eyes, pain throbs heavily from one side of his skull to the other. One eye can’t even open fully from the swelling.
It’s not long at all before Shinji decides that all of this is unimportant right now--even the horse--and pain soon beckons him back into sleep.
Shinji is surprised to receive a response so quickly; and one so enthused at that. At first, he thought he might have imagined it. He can’t think of anyone in Solitude who is so…eager. He has to squint through blurry vision to type, but he’s certain a few typos make their way into his messages regardless.
[text:] thank christmas
[text:] Shinji Ikari. Keanu island i think?? sorry i’m so stick
[text:] I mean suck
[text:] SICK
This stranger would really have to be going out of their way to be helping Shinji, especially if they have to get here from another island. He will have to repay this person somehow. Maybe he will buy them lunch or something, but is that even good enough? Either way, that will have to wait until after this sickness is gone.
This guy was really sick, huh? It wasn’t just one or two typos, but consistent ones. Chiaki wasn’t really sure why he was texted, but if this person had decided to suddenly text him, it must be because he had no one else to ask, and that wasn’t alright. No one should be without help when they need it.
[text:] I see. I’m Chiaki Morisawa, so we’re no longer strangers.
[text:] I’m on my way to Keanu Island right now, Ikari, so please send me a more specific address when you’re able to!
Having finished sending that message, Chiaki quickly grabbed his jacket and pulled his arms through the sleeve as he took off out the front door. For the time, just knowing the island was okay while he made his way there, but hopefully Shinji would be able to get more information to him so that he could help.
As soon as Shinji sends Chiaki his address, he begins to wonder if he should be at least a little more sketched out. He has never done this before, but a lurch in his gut reminds him that he has also never been this sick before.
Speaking of which, he doesn’t want this virus spreading to other people--especially someone nice enough to help him. By sheer luck alone, Shinji happens to have a few face masks handy (he bought some in advance in case one of the volcanoes erupted--air pollution is just as dangerous as hot death, even though it may not be as imminent).
Now covering his face, Shinji reaches for his phone again.
[text:] I can’t tank you enough. I’ll think of a way to repay you that isn’t lame
At first, Shinji thought it was an earthquake, but the shift of the ground followed by a shockwave alerted him to the familiarity of an explosion.
His better judgement told him to get to shelter, but there really was nothing like that here to shield against such a blast. At least, not that he was aware of. The rumbling felt like it came from a certain direction, and a look out the window confirmed his fears.
Smoke is billowing from the horizon near Rika’s house. Perhaps an experiment gone wrong, but that doesn’t matter now.
He couldn’t stay here. If he’s being totally honest with himself, he shouldn’t go to Rika, either, but his legs begin carrying towards her house. He reaches for his phone first, and sets it to call her. When she doesn’t pick up, Shinji sets out at a run. She could be hurt, and he’s certain that he is the closest one to her right now--he knows basic first aid, and he could call for a ride to the hospital--
His thoughts continue to buzz around the worst case scenario, but Shinji suddenly comes to a stop about a block away from Rika’s house. It’s only when he gets close enough that he realizes that the smoke cloud looms closer overhead--almost deliberately.
“Rika?!” he calls out in a panic, but it’s likely she can’t even hear him from this distance.
It only takes Shinji a moment or so to realize that it isn’t smoke moving towards him at all. Light catches on metallic shapes, like a warning beacon, and Shinji has only enough time to duck behind a parked car when they begin firing an onslaught of explosives. Shinji covers his head and neck, but rubble and debris start flying, crumbling all around him; a very heavy piece is flung towards Shinji’s skull, and all he sees is black.
