[open]

[redheadcarrier]

CHARACTERS: Asuka Langley Soryu and you.
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: Day: 048
SUMMARY: Asuka hasn't had a good time emotionally; she tries to distract herself by overworking.
WARNINGS: Potential mention of suicide, suicidal ideation, death.

[ Her conversations with Misato didn't go anywhere. Or at least they didn't go anywhere that would help Asuka resolve the teeming mass of uncomfortable hollowness that permeates her. Every last bit of her old self-worth feels as if it's been ground out of her, squeezed by her death, by Third Impact, and now by Misato, until she's been left flailing and trying to grasp onto something - anything - that will let her keep her head above water. She has a new purpose now, so at least there's that. There are new people around her. Some of them are even decent, but she tries not to let on that she likes some of them.

Of course, with Adra and Lavellan, it's almost impossible for her to keep that way. They're a constant presence at the back of her mind. Warm light and a familiar feeling of frustration and loss, respectively. The feelings she associates with them now and the emotions that creep in when she tries to pay attention to their buzzing, humming presence. She's adapted, too. She's found that she can tune out the voices if she wants, but that simply letting them fade into the background of her head is almost easier.

Asuka's not sure how she feels about that.

There's nothing for her to do yet and she feels antsy and on edge and if she sits too long, her mind is going to start crawling down into dark places and it'll take her with it. So she moves. She decides to train, because she's here to fight a war and if she has to fight, she's going to be ready. They have a gym and she's using it now, going through a routine. Running, acrobatics, exercises, and a barrage of punches and kicks that are aimed at the punching bag there. Her form is a bit sloppy, but there's real muscle memory to it - like a fighter who coming back after an injury. It's also a bit strange to see a five-foot nothing teenager going after said punching bag with the viciousness of a cornered animal, teeth gritted, breath hissing between her teeth, anger and frustration rolling out of her with every blow until she leaves herself panting and out of breath, still glaring at the punching bag as if it somehow personally offended her.

She spits out a few choice curse-words in German, but she welcomes the feeling of physical exhaustion that washes over her and radiates out through the hive link. Better than the alternative. ]

[OOC: Will potentially ad more prompts later; if you'd like to hit her somewhere else, just wildcard it. ]

Comments

[deployed]

( Do you fight hand to hand, or is it always...that machine? )

[ the machine of which bellamy's impression of is basically: ???????? ]

[redheadcarrier]

( It's going to have to be hand-to-hand and firearms now. Not like I have an Eva to pilot anymore. And an Eva is forty meters tall. Be kinda hard to sneak around, right? )

[deployed]

( No, I guess not. )

[ The only frame of reference Bellamy has for what Asuka's referring to is what he's picked out of Shiro's mind: giant metal creatures, lion-shaped and ostentatious. No, not great for a stealth mission. ]

( Why are you angry? Because you're here? )

[redheadcarrier]

( What? No. I'm glad I'm here. I'd rather be anywhere than back there. )

[ There's a flashed image of a beach with a red, red sea and some sort of misshapen face looming on the horizon. ]

[deployed]

[ Asuka's hardly the first person to express this, but it still surprises Bellamy. His shock rattles down the line to her. ]

( Why? )

[redheadcarrier]

( My world is dead. That's why. )

[ It might make a comeback, but she has no reason to wait for that to happen. ]

[deployed]

( Was it the bombs? )

[ It's a natural assumption for Bellamy. Her world must have burned, the same as his did. And maybe hers wasn't lucky enough to recover. Sympathy colors the question as he considers the answer she's given him. ]

[redheadcarrier]

( No. Third Impact. Human Instrumentality. )

[ She knows the words mean very little to him, but she can't explain it. There's too much information to put together and then explain. It's still raw. ]

[deployed]

[ ??????????????????????? ]

( I'm sorry. )

[ Because he doesn't understand, still assumes it was the bombs, but he senses the pain the answers carries with it. She's an open wound. Bellamy can't bring himself to offer hope in the face of something so new. ]

[redheadcarrier]

( It's a long story. )

[ She senses his confusion and she allows that much. Just enough to let him know she understands. ]

( And it's hard to explain. )

[ Just... flashes of strange introspection, of all the barriers between people being gone, of floating in an infinite sea.

Hands on her neck, trying to strangle the life out of her. ]

[deployed]

[ Bellamy swallows against the sense of strangling, distress rising to meet what she's attempting to share. ]

( You don't have to try. )

[ How long has it been? Not long enough for the loss to have healed over. The pain still feels new, and Bellamy doesn't want an answer badly to needle at it. ]

( We're going to be here a while. We have the time for you to think of a way to tell it, if you want. )

[redheadcarrier]

( I'll figure it out. Long story short, humanity is a sea of orange goop now. Isn't that great? )

[ Except it's horrible. ]

[deployed]

( I'm sorry. )

[ Bellamy repeats himself, because he's unsure of what other response he can give. ]

( Does the distraction help? )

[ Since the training is useful, but it's still a distraction. Bellamy sees that. It's what he's done more than once in this situation. ]

[redheadcarrier]

( Don't be. )

[ The words (thoughts) are almost unnecessarily harsh, but lurking behind them is the deep conviction that she shouldn't be pitied. She doesn't want pity. Doesn't want to be thought of as weak. ]

( It's better than sitting around and doing nothing. I don't want to let myself waste away. )

[ Vague, fuzzier memories of a half-waking state in a hospital bed, confined by a deep, horrific sense of apathy and despair. ]

[deployed]

[ The hospital bed. Bellamy's thoughts skid back to the prison, swamped with nausea, with Murphy's presence hooked into him like an anchor. The memory is clear for a moment, jarring against Asuka's offering, before Bellamy sweeps it effortlessly away. ]

( You won't have to worry about that. The missions keep us busy. )

[ Which is a relief, though the idea of downtime is still novel enough that it hasn't lost it's charm for Bellamy. ]

( Depending on where we go next, you might have better targets than the punching bag. )

[redheadcarrier]

( I like busy. )

[ She tries to ignore the memories that sweep and swirl around her. It's weird, getting glimpses into other peoples' heads. But she'll deal with it. ]

( Good. Give me some targets that I can tear apart. )

[ Whoa, little blood-thirsty there. ]

[deployed]

[ Asuka where is your chill girl ]

( If it plays out like our last mission, you'll get the opportunity. )

[ Bellamy's unease slips through, coloring his assurance. He's still trying to do better, avoid killing. As familiar as he is with violence, he hasn't given up on that resolution. ]

( Something to look forward too, right? )

[redheadcarrier]

[ She has no chill. It's also that she just manages to disassociate the idea of "people" from whoever her targets happen to be. They're just that: targets. Her job is to take them apart.

He gets a flash of a mental image, of the view from inside of her cockpit as she swats attack craft out of the sky like flies. ]

( Definitely. Maybe I can stop being bored out of my skull. )

[deployed]

[ holy shit ]

( I don't think anything on the station can compare to what you're used to. )

[ because holy shit ]

( But if you get bored before I can get detached, there's a whole library. )

[redheadcarrier]

( I might do some reading. Gotta do something, right? What do you do? )

[deployed]

( Read. )

[ Amusement rolls through the link. ]

( When I'm not hitting things or arguing with Murphy. )

[ Or Lexa, but arguing with Murphy is almost a sport. His arguments with Lexa are more serious, weightier than his squabbles with Murphy can be. ]

[redheadcarrier]

( Who the Hell is Murphy? )

[ Someone she hasn't met, clearly. She asks, though, as if clarification will help somehow. ]

[deployed]

( Someone I knew from home. )

[ At which point Bellamy provides a visual, in case there was any doubt. There's a flurry of memory, none clear until it settles on Murphy, filthy and pale and absolutely unexpected in the dark of a tunnel. ]

[redheadcarrier]

( Oh. Don't think I know him. )

[ She hasn't met everyone and doesn't really plan on going out of her way to do so. Even if she has a face to a name now. ]

( I knew Misato at home. She was my commander. For a while. )

[ There's something frustrated and hostile about the way she thinks that. ]

[deployed]

( Then what happened? )

[ Though the word commander feels strange to apply to Misato. Bellamy's mind dredges up Lexa in all her grounder finery instead, war paint and swords. Misato just doesn't fit. ]