[Perhaps, were this a different kind of situation, the fall of the other being's hand on his shoulder would have elicited a stronger reaction, all swift movement paired with the attempt to rip or tear or break, a visceral response to an unexpected touch, the legacy of having lived his life in a world of constant violence. But it doesn't come-- instead, the weight of Edward's hand is barely registered, the feel of it so vague and distant that it could be happening to someone else, in another plane of existence. In this moment there is only Her and his thoughts continue to clamour loud, tearing at him, up behind the ribs in inside his skull like butterflies with razorblade wings.
He remains cool and still and motionless on an external level, but looking down into her face like this, he realises he isn't prepared, isn't ready. He wants to rip open the pod and drag her out and scream her name over and over until she's forced to open her eyes and become present. He wants to turn and walk away and pretend he never saw her like this at all, pretend it never happened. Both desires are equally strong in him, cancel each other out until he remains here, still as stone, doing nothing.
Would she be pleased, if he were to wake her up and save her from her frozen slumber? Would she be glad to see him finally, accept him and be happy that at least one of her creations had survived, even if it is the flawed one, the useless one, the dregs and the scraps and the trash? Or would there only be the black hole of her endless disappointment, wanting only for Heine even now, after everything? Does he want to know?
He does. He doesn't. He wants her here and present and able to tell him what to do. He wishes she'd been consumed by the storm, and himself along with her.
It takes him a moment to find himself amidst the turbulence of his chaotic thoughts, but eventually he does. Forces himself to speak, his voice deceptively smooth and level, as though he feels nothing at all.]
no subject
He remains cool and still and motionless on an external level, but looking down into her face like this, he realises he isn't prepared, isn't ready. He wants to rip open the pod and drag her out and scream her name over and over until she's forced to open her eyes and become present. He wants to turn and walk away and pretend he never saw her like this at all, pretend it never happened. Both desires are equally strong in him, cancel each other out until he remains here, still as stone, doing nothing.
Would she be pleased, if he were to wake her up and save her from her frozen slumber? Would she be glad to see him finally, accept him and be happy that at least one of her creations had survived, even if it is the flawed one, the useless one, the dregs and the scraps and the trash? Or would there only be the black hole of her endless disappointment, wanting only for Heine even now, after everything? Does he want to know?
He does. He doesn't. He wants her here and present and able to tell him what to do. He wishes she'd been consumed by the storm, and himself along with her.
It takes him a moment to find himself amidst the turbulence of his chaotic thoughts, but eventually he does. Forces himself to speak, his voice deceptively smooth and level, as though he feels nothing at all.]
She is. Professor Einstürzen. My creator.