shinji, you fucker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imusntrunaway) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-02-14 08:12 pm
imusntrunaway) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-02-14 08:12 pm
(OPEN) let me play you the song of my people
Date & Time: An indefinite time after the festival.
Location: The music rooms, Unit 208, some musty old club.
Characters: Shinji and YOOOOOOOU
Summary: Shinji wants to kill time after listening to all those merry tunes during the festival. The cello is a potent weapon. Also music in the moonlight with an Angel wow how nice.
Warnings: Depressed teenage introspection. Mumbling. Super gay duets. Uuuh nothing else really.
(OOC: Prose or action is fine by me!!)
If one ventures near the music rooms in the early mornings, or if the residents of 208 happened to be around, they might hear classical music floating through the air. The source of this music comes from one Shinji Ikari, his back faced to the door as his fingers deftly dance across the cello's strings. His eyes are closed in concentration--he's tuned out the world as he plays, looking for once content.
Most days, the network was his anesthesia. But there were times where, as he laid languidly on his bed, staring at nothing in particular, he felt a smothering weight on his chest. Doing nothing only seemed to make it worse. Shinji thought that things would be the same in Exsilium as they had been on Earth. He'd been right, but he'd also been wrong. Seeing his fellow pilots-- seeing Kaworu alive--
Something had quietly begun to change within him. A small seed of unrest had been planted that wormed through his apathy.
The bow drags along the strings with the measured skill of an experienced musician. But to his ears, it's a rusty plod. He hasn't been improving, advancing.
Surprisingly, that irritates him.
The music plays on, harsher and angrier.
[FEBRUARY 14th, CLOSED; FOR KAWORU]
The night air nips at his face, numbing it. As he sighs deeply his breath wavers in the air before fading into nothing. On his back is his cello. The instrument was the reason why it took him so long to leave the apartment. Shinji had internally debated on whether to bring it. In the end, the memory of soft-spoken words (i would love to hear you play) is what decided for him.
The festival is over. The litter of festivities covers the streets. The city feels desolate and mournful as he walks on, eyes trained on his tablet. Occasionally he glances up to make sure he's going the right way, but otherwise he keeps his head down, his pace fast.
He isn't sure how this will end. He's said some harsh words to the Angel during their last meeting and the fact that the other still invited him, out of a patient kindness... it makes him feel guilty. Because despite everything he's said, despite the distance he tried to shove between them, there's a truth he's been burying deep within himself so he wouldn't have to look straight at it.
(I miss you. I'm lonely.)
He's ashamed of himself having such feelings and for hiding them.
The ruins rise gently into his line of sight. He's arrived. Cautiously, he enters, his hand pressed against the worn door frame.
"... hello?" he calls softly.
Location: The music rooms, Unit 208, some musty old club.
Characters: Shinji and YOOOOOOOU
Summary: Shinji wants to kill time after listening to all those merry tunes during the festival. The cello is a potent weapon. Also music in the moonlight with an Angel wow how nice.
Warnings: Depressed teenage introspection. Mumbling. Super gay duets. Uuuh nothing else really.
(OOC: Prose or action is fine by me!!)
If one ventures near the music rooms in the early mornings, or if the residents of 208 happened to be around, they might hear classical music floating through the air. The source of this music comes from one Shinji Ikari, his back faced to the door as his fingers deftly dance across the cello's strings. His eyes are closed in concentration--he's tuned out the world as he plays, looking for once content.
Most days, the network was his anesthesia. But there were times where, as he laid languidly on his bed, staring at nothing in particular, he felt a smothering weight on his chest. Doing nothing only seemed to make it worse. Shinji thought that things would be the same in Exsilium as they had been on Earth. He'd been right, but he'd also been wrong. Seeing his fellow pilots-- seeing Kaworu alive--
Something had quietly begun to change within him. A small seed of unrest had been planted that wormed through his apathy.
The bow drags along the strings with the measured skill of an experienced musician. But to his ears, it's a rusty plod. He hasn't been improving, advancing.
Surprisingly, that irritates him.
The music plays on, harsher and angrier.
[FEBRUARY 14th, CLOSED; FOR KAWORU]
The night air nips at his face, numbing it. As he sighs deeply his breath wavers in the air before fading into nothing. On his back is his cello. The instrument was the reason why it took him so long to leave the apartment. Shinji had internally debated on whether to bring it. In the end, the memory of soft-spoken words (i would love to hear you play) is what decided for him.
The festival is over. The litter of festivities covers the streets. The city feels desolate and mournful as he walks on, eyes trained on his tablet. Occasionally he glances up to make sure he's going the right way, but otherwise he keeps his head down, his pace fast.
He isn't sure how this will end. He's said some harsh words to the Angel during their last meeting and the fact that the other still invited him, out of a patient kindness... it makes him feel guilty. Because despite everything he's said, despite the distance he tried to shove between them, there's a truth he's been burying deep within himself so he wouldn't have to look straight at it.
(I miss you. I'm lonely.)
He's ashamed of himself having such feelings and for hiding them.
The ruins rise gently into his line of sight. He's arrived. Cautiously, he enters, his hand pressed against the worn door frame.
"... hello?" he calls softly.
no subject
Shinji blinked in surprise before recognition finally hit. The pieces finally clicked together and his eyes widen in realization. He didn't expect to run into someone from the network like this--or here for that matter. Guiltily, he remembered the other boy's offer to help him out. He'd been keeping to himself during his ventures outside, cutting off most unnecessary contact.
"Oh! So you were the one..." He stopped. He almost said 'didn't know about music.' Shinji lamely added, "--the one who couldn't sleep."
He held out a hand. "Um, I'm Shinji. But you already know that... It's nice to meet you. In person."
no subject
"Yes," he said, a bit of a laugh in his voice. "It's a lot better, face to face, right? Now I can remember you better."
He took a moment to get a better look at Shinji, his head tilting. Sometimes, seeing someone who didn't look so extraordinary was...pretty extraordinary in of itself in Exsilium. His smile softened.
"So you found one...the cello. I'm glad! Do you like it?"
and then i was late forever ha ha haaaaaaa
"Mm. It's in good shape." He rubs the back of his neck, looking down. "I was surprised. I thought this place wouldn't have them..."
A sudden thought crosses his mind. "Oh, sorry, but... you haven't seen one before, have you? An instrument, I mean." It feels strange to ask that.
AIN'T NO THANG I BET I'M WORSE
He ducked his head, his smile twisting more toward a self-conscious grin. "I thought it was said like kello when I first read it."