creationofwill: (solemn remeberence)
[personal profile] creationofwill
An ash I know there stands,
Yggdrasill is its name,
a tall tree, showered
with shining loam.
From there come the dews
that drop in the valleys.
It stands forever green over
Urðr's well.



He's dead, and that is all he knows.

All he knows is one fact, that he is dead.

What does one do when they are dead? he wonders. It seems to be a very boring place. He is sitting on the branch of a tree, one that stretches up high, and stretches down low. He sits in silence for quite a long time. It's nice.

There's a blue haired girl running around the tree, going up and down. No, if he pays attention, there are more than one of her. How quaint. He doesn't feel that he cares for her, although he has no idea why. Occasionally she disappears; occasionally she reappears in a different way. "Why are you running, girl?" he asks, and she spares him nary a glance.

A door opens next to him all of a sudden, but he is not surprised nor shocked. He has a sudden feeling that he is never either, unless he wishes to pretend he is. He isn't a lot of things that he plays at. He wonders why that makes him sad.

"Get your ass in here, Kaoru," a red haired girl huffs and puffs at him, stomping her foot. "If you don't study, I'll beat you at math again, do you really want that?"

That door thuds closed, and he finds that he cannot stop raising an eyebrow for quite awhile.

Another door opens, down below. A black haired boy looks out, and Kaworu thinks that it may be love at first sight, except he thinks that he has met the other before. "You're dead," he says, as he looks up at Kaworu.

"So it seems," he confirms with a pleasant smile. As if that were a normal expression to have when accepting one's own death.

"I hate you," is the response, and that door closes the loudest of all. In fact, there is even a noise of it locking, before it disappears. Kaworu has no idea why that stabs him in the heart many times. He has no idea about anything, leaning against the tree, his legs pulled up so that he can hide his face and cry soundlessly. Perhaps he perfected that long ago.

The now familiar footsteps of the blue haired girl stops, and he looks up at her. "You have been here too long," she says. "You need to move on."

Without even a choice or question about it, he's pushed, and falls soundlessly without impact -

- and the rest is quite a blur, a new life moving forward over and over, until he's sixteen and going to school, bored of it as always. He's been having dreams lately, dreams of giant robots like the ones on tv, an a boy that he can never remember his face, only forbidden touches and just one kiss. He thinks it might be more interesting if all of these things were here and now.

But they weren't. So he taps his pencil against the side of his desk in the way he knows his teacher hates, staring out the window until he's scolded, scolded, scolded again before being sent out. He could go home, but he has not decided if that's what he wants to do, yet.

What direction will you choose, Nagisa Kaworu?
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