Kaworu's memories of the town were split now. Previously, he had only recalled a place that not only held death, but moved with it. Death was an energy, a force of its own, and it came after the others. Lilim that turned upon one another, so that all could be the same. It was a strange life that would cause its own destruction, but again and again, it was what humanity proved to be. Within the Tree of Knowledge, they had found that which now defined them, and hurt them. Always together, always alone, never certain. Unlike Kaworu, who, he supposed, was always alone with certainty
( ... )
Which described every morning he'd had for the past week, except this time he did remember lying down in bed, with Elena curled up beside him. He felt that absence first (the smell of her hair, her familiar warmth, the slow cadence of her breathing) and nearly awoke in a panic, before he saw the white walls of his patient room again, and Castiel in the opposite bed. They were still here. His fingers self-consciously tugged the tight collar of shirt - someone had put it back on him - as he listened for activity outside their door. Something was different about today
( ... )
Kaworu already knew what to expect when he turned to see who had joined him. Stefan, taller and older, and illuminated now. It was not the same warm sunlight he would have expected, nor the artificial glow of the indoors. The white light reflecting off the snow and pouring through the window was sharp. Kaworu blinked as his eyes adjusted, even just to turning his vision inward. The features of the Lilim darkened and became clear, but revealed nothing that surprised him.
"Yes," he agreed. Even if it wasn't his full intent, he wouldn't deny that he was always looking for that particular face. It was possible he also sought out others as well, searching for anything familiar, but he couldn't produce names. A hint of their existence would be enough to console him, though. He knew that much.
"Always. I think that you can understand." It was a venture, perhaps, but also a symptom of love. "However, I was mostly observing the snow."
Stefan found himself smiling at the way Kaworu blinked at him. It made him look... younger. That is, Kaworu already looked young (what was he, fifteen, maybe fourteen?) but normally possessed this serene composure which seemed out of place on a teenager. Stefan had taken it in stride before, given that a lot about Kaworu was out of place, but looking at him now, all of those little quirks stirred his thoughts. The boy's demeanour, his striking paleness, the bloody colour of his eyes. Kaworu looked nothing like Edward - even less so now that Edward's eyes had shifted to gold since their nighttime outing - but Stefan couldn't help but wonder how alike they were. For a fact, they weren't the only non-humans trapped in this place. If both he and Damon had been taken, would it be so strange if another of Edward's kind had been too?
Except Kaworu didn't seem like a vampire. Not human, sure, but not nearly aggressive enough for a blood-starved predator. On the other hand, Stefan supposed that didn't really mean anything. The
( ... )
"Tokyo-3," he recited. Not for the first time, he wished that there was a more accurate definition of home that he could offer. The source of his person was a laboratory, not far from the city, perhaps. But the memories were mostly emotionless. Devoid of opinion or desire beyond his natural inclinations
( ... )
Tokyo... Three? Stefan opened his mouth to ask for clarification just as he felt the bus jerk underneath them, and saw the face of the hospital pull away beyond their window. He rose to his feet to look for Elena, Damon or Alaric, but a nearby nurse-soldier shot him a glare, and it was too hard anyway to pick out faces on a crowded bus. Stefan gave a silent sigh, and sank back into his seat. He'd have to trust that they all made it onto a bus.
Kaworu started into an explanation anyway, but even though Stefan made himself listen closely, the boy's words and focus seemed to come from a distance, impartial and strange. Beyond strange. Stefan was pretty on top of his world history, but even someone like Damon wouldn't need to care about the news to know that the polar caps hadn't melted yet, and especially not because of something called "the Second Impact." Altered axis. Weather patterns. Fifteen years ago. If not for everything else Stefan had already seen, or the people he'd already met, he might have dismissed it out of
( ... )
"No." Then Stefan, too, had noticed. Kaworu was more like the Lilim than any of the other Angels, and yet, they could tell he was separate. There was too much that he could not emulate, and felt no desire to. It had been pointless for most of his life. The degree to which he fit in was irrelevant when surrounded by those who already knew. It was only later that it had any significance to his life, and even then, only for a short while. He had only needed to be one of them briefly, and only Shinji had truly believed him. Kaworu's hand closed and unclosed.
Here, it was once again meaningless. Without Adam, without the Angels, Kaworu was detached. He was still not of the Lilim, though. He would never be.
"The Lilim exist separately, but I've known nothing else." He stopped, and considered. Stefan wanted an account of his life. How he had lived. "My life was unremarkable, until I met Shinji."
"The Lilim?" Stefan echoed, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. Despite being a supernatural being himself, he was far from an expert on folklore or other arcane knowledge. Most vampires simply relied on witches for that part, if they cared at all, and of course there were those who made this sort of research their life's work, such as Elena's mother (and to a somewhat lesser degree, people like Alaric Saltzman). If ever Stefan had studied the same, it was a long time ago, during one of those difficult periods in which he sought explanations for what he was and where they came from, only to realize some years later that he wasn't going to find justification for his life in an occult text.
In spite of his searching, in spite of all of the decades he'd existed on this Earth, he never did find much of one - not until he met Elena. Stefan's eyebrows raised as he regarded Kaworu for a secord, surprised to hear the boy's words echo his thoughts. But it wasn't intentional, not like Edward's telepathy. Just... a coincidence.
"Yes," he agreed. It was, he supposed, the best word for it. It wasn't specific, and it didn't demonstrate all that there was between them, but that was not unusual. The pitfalls of language. The weaknesses of expression. Nuance and one's own thoughts augmented a word and made it personal, but only in one's own mind. Shinji was a friend, but was associated with specific events and memories that differentiated him limitlessly from Stefan, or from Ayanami, or from Otacon. These things were beyond words. He suspected the Lilim felt the same, but there was no surety
( ... )
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Which described every morning he'd had for the past week, except this time he did remember lying down in bed, with Elena curled up beside him. He felt that absence first (the smell of her hair, her familiar warmth, the slow cadence of her breathing) and nearly awoke in a panic, before he saw the white walls of his patient room again, and Castiel in the opposite bed. They were still here. His fingers self-consciously tugged the tight collar of shirt - someone had put it back on him - as he listened for activity outside their door. Something was different about today ( ... )
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"Yes," he agreed. Even if it wasn't his full intent, he wouldn't deny that he was always looking for that particular face. It was possible he also sought out others as well, searching for anything familiar, but he couldn't produce names. A hint of their existence would be enough to console him, though. He knew that much.
"Always. I think that you can understand." It was a venture, perhaps, but also a symptom of love. "However, I was mostly observing the snow."
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Except Kaworu didn't seem like a vampire. Not human, sure, but not nearly aggressive enough for a blood-starved predator. On the other hand, Stefan supposed that didn't really mean anything. The ( ... )
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Kaworu started into an explanation anyway, but even though Stefan made himself listen closely, the boy's words and focus seemed to come from a distance, impartial and strange. Beyond strange. Stefan was pretty on top of his world history, but even someone like Damon wouldn't need to care about the news to know that the polar caps hadn't melted yet, and especially not because of something called "the Second Impact." Altered axis. Weather patterns. Fifteen years ago. If not for everything else Stefan had already seen, or the people he'd already met, he might have dismissed it out of ( ... )
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Here, it was once again meaningless. Without Adam, without the Angels, Kaworu was detached. He was still not of the Lilim, though. He would never be.
"The Lilim exist separately, but I've known nothing else." He stopped, and considered. Stefan wanted an account of his life. How he had lived. "My life was unremarkable, until I met Shinji."
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In spite of his searching, in spite of all of the decades he'd existed on this Earth, he never did find much of one - not until he met Elena. Stefan's eyebrows raised as he regarded Kaworu for a secord, surprised to hear the boy's words echo his thoughts. But it wasn't intentional, not like Edward's telepathy. Just... a coincidence.
I've known ( ... )
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