Evangelion: The Path of Tears
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Author Notes:
Hey. I just had a short little story pop into my head. It goes along with a couple of the fan fictions I am writing; including Conversations and Observations. I was feeling guilty for having nothing in the general forum for Eva with a PG rating. This should satisfy that little craving.
Again, this is a short, one shot deal. I hope you enjoy it.
-PitViper.
Update 4-28-2002
ARGH!!! This one has been mutilated as well. I bet conversations is in the same lousy condition! Now I have to re-edit that! I guess I'll take care of that tomorrow. Sorry if you got confused by the missing Quote marks.
Thanks,
PitViper
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Disclaimer: I don't own Evangelion. Gainax owns it, and it is distributed through ADV. I intend to make no money out of this little story, so please don't sue me.
Title :The Path of Tears
Author :PitViper (pvalpha@yahoo.com)
Universe :Neon Genesis Evangelion
Type :Short Story/General
Rating :PG
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'Who am I?' This single thought raced rapidly through a disturbed mind. This mind had been subjected to one of the worst punishments imaginable. In fact, the mind could probably not even be classified as sane anymore.
The likelihood that this mind could even form coherent thoughts in any language was startling and almost unimaginable, considering the length of time that she had been confined in this chamber. For her the only sound available for comfort was the dripping of her wounds, and the only illumination a dull red light that bathed the surrounding rock in an equally dull red glow.
Long ago she had forgotten those things most of us take for granted. She imagined her will to communicate was the first to erode, with no one to talk to except herself it hardly seemed worth the effort to proceed with the act.
The next to go were her memories. Each one fading away in the background as the red illuminated chamber burnt its image not only into her eyes, but into her very soul. She could remember them fading away, and her grasping at each one – precious yet distant. She tried to hold onto even the painful memories, yet those too faded in time.
At first, her confinement only served to provide her with the time to reflect upon her mistakes in life. Each would come out of the pores and crevasses of the surrounding rock, attacking her consciousness like hungry wolves. She could remember the pain clearly, yet she hungered to remember even one of those memories. For no matter how horrible they were, the memories were of a place other than this cavern, other than this prison of rock and blood.
Even the knowledge of the crime that had caused her imprisonment was gone from her memory. She knew not why she was here, in this lonely place.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
'Those wounds,' the being thought, her mind only forming images and fragments of meaning, but if they could be translated into words, their meaning would be as such: 'How can they still bleed after so long? What curse was placed over me that would allow me to survive this long, to let me feel the eternal pain of absolute loneliness?' Her questions, of course, would go unanswered. How could anyone answer questions from someone who had been imprisoned for so long that the memory of a year was as a hundredth of a second to a normal soul?
If this being could form words, they would cry out to the heavens: "Why, oh why, have you forsaken me in such a way?" She would place a name to the cry, if she could just remember one. But no words came to the imprisoned being, and no answers would be received. Even her cry was empty and hollow in her own mind, like an echo of a voice that had spoken long ago.
It could even be said that she wanted nothing but death. The physical pain of her existence had long ceased to concern her. Sensations of the physical had disappeared long ago, and even that pain was no longer present.
This being's thoughts proceeded in such a manner. Over time, even the desperation for death almost faded away completely. It was now just a constant background noise to her. 'I wish to end,' the thought echoed in the semi-conscious state she was in.
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The day finally came when the imprisoned being sensed a change in her environment. A noise echoed softly at the bottom of the chamber. In the dim red glow that illuminated her cell, she noticed a group of men in the distance. Her eyes focused on the first 'new' thing that her sight had been given for almost ever. Her loneliness seemed to her to be an ageless eternity, but now she finally had something different. 'A change... Someone has found me! Not alone!'
Her thoughts were so ecstatic that a tear formed in one of her eyes. She felt it; it was the first thing she had felt in so long. It was also a familiar feeling. A myriad of memories returned with the tear. She remembered billions of such tears falling from her eyes. But instead of being a tear of sadness, this was a tear of happiness, for she was no longer alone!
She felt the tear begin. It gathered at the base of her eyelid, and built up quickly. Surface tension finally broke and the tear began to fall down her face. She felt it as it followed the very same contour that all the previous tears had followed. It flowed smoothly down the ravine generated by the countless previous tears, following the contour of her face until it reached her chin. Once there, the tear built up again, until finally surface tension and gravity made their demands known, and the salty liquid fell to where her blood had gathered over the years. The drop splashed in the ocean of blood, quickly diluting in the massive pool of dark liquid.
Her interest piqued, the being contented herself with watching her silent observers, twenty men in all. The crackle of their torches assaulting her ears with sound – and to her anything new was a pleasant experience. Finally, from the group of twenty men, four were selected. In hushed tones they were given their instructions. The beings all wore hooded cloaks, of a color she could not discern in the dim red light. But she could clearly see a pattern woven on the front – an inverted triangle with seven eyes.
Next, the imprisoned being was shocked; she watched the four chosen cut out their own tongues and drive spikes into their ears. As they did this, she felt their pain. She had been straining her senses to observe every last thing about her visitors. The sudden acts of violence by four of the men shocked her deeply.
For a period of time, the sixteen took care of the four who had injured themselves. They fed them and treated their wounds. They even used some of her blood to ensure that they survived their acts.
Finally, the sixteen remaining went up to the surface. She could not see the path they followed; she only knew that the four who remained stared silently at her. She could feel the questions on their minds, but did not know how to respond to such things. Even if she could respond, the power of her mind would likely overwhelm them.
For a while after this, the men who watched her would take turns. Two would stay within the chamber, two would leave. When the other two would return with supplies the small group would eat one meal together and would spend one night within the cave. Then two would leave, and two would remain.
Sometimes a different two watchers would return in the place of the two who had left. The being could only think that this was because these men's lives were short compared to her own. It did not bother her, though. Company was company, although it was silent, she appreciated it.
As the years passed, the being began to mark her time with the changing of the men. She knew that there had been forty different groups of two to visit her in the time since the first twenty appeared. Each group had the same injuries. She knew that the sixteen remaining had given them instructions, and those words had been the last thing they every heard and their acknowledgements were the last things that they would ever say.
It wasn't until the forty second group had begun their watch that the situation had changed. She watched as hundreds of men dragged something large into the chamber. The group of sixteen stood in the distance, watching. Every once in a while, she would hear those sixteen men command the workers to perform certain tasks. Although she couldn't understand the language used, the presence of so many people filled her heart with joy.
She paid particular attention as the men built a scaffolding to surround her body. An elaborate system of pulleys and rope was constructed around her. She dared to hope that they might release her from this agony of imprisonment. 'And to think that I wanted death!'
She analyzed the group of sixteen. Fifteen members of the group were different from before. But one was the same. She watched this man carefully. He appeared younger than before, but his features were similar. What truly allowed her to know that this individual was the same as one who had visited her earlier was the light of his soul.
She remembered sensing that burning light, one that was very old, despite the youth of his body. She did not know how she knew he was so old, nor did she truly care. These were all new experiences, and her starved mind hungered for anything different.
Finally, the men finished with their construction, and attached pulleys and ropes to the object that had been lowered into her prison. As they positioned it, she got a glimpse of the item. It was a mask… a mask designed to fit… 'Oh no,' she thought to herself. 'They were going to cover my face!'
As the men tested the structure they built, and maneuvered the massive mask, she noticed the design upon it. The mask had emblazoned upon it a triangle with seven eyes. The massive metallic construct was lifted into place slowly and carefully. Finally, it covered her face entirely. Hooks underneath the mask lanced out and embedded themselves in her skin. She felt the pain of it, but like all the pain she had felt before, it was fleeting and of little consequence compared to her other injuries.
But the pain of not being accepted! That was something different. 'Why did they hate my face? Was I ugly to them?' She had to know. She reached out with her senses, beyond the blackness that covered her eyes. She felt the soul that burned so brightly with age in the distance, and grasped it. For a moment, she allowed her light to interact with his – she wanted to know why they had done this.
The thoughts of the man were a jumble. Although she could only control him for a few moments, she discovered the answer to why the mask had been created. It was placed there not because the man found her face ugly, but because he found it distractingly beautiful and horrendously sad.
Finally, she forced herself to release him. The moments passed and she heard the hundreds of workers leaving. Finally, she heard only the hushed voices of the sixteen and the heartbeats of the four who were mute. One by one, she listened to them leave the chamber until there were only four who could speak, the four who could not, and the man who had such a bright soul.
She felt the souls of the four who could not speak suddenly leave their bodies. The four who could speak had killed them quickly and painlessly. She felt their souls go to the place where such things came from. Once the souls reached that place, she lost awareness of them.
Finally, the remaining men left; their footsteps echoing in the distance until they were gone.
With their fading footsteps, a thought echoed in her head, as she pondered the soul she had touched.
The being who had been imprisoned for countless millennia thought carefully about this ironic fate. Her countless tears had caused these men to cover her face. It did not matter anymore, though. She had been saved from becoming an empty shell by their arrival. She was sure that the memory of their presence would help her to keep her sanity for a little while, at least.
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After what seemed like another eternity for the imprisoned being, a soft call touched her senses. 'What is this sense? I remember this feeling, but do not know its meaning.' She pondered the many meanings this strange call could possess. It was an offer, a chance, an escape from the pain of her confines.
She listened carefully to the soul that was calling her to separate herself from her body. She knew she would be able to leave this damaged shell and return to a world where she would see something other than the eternal blackness of her mask. The call was alluring, and so inviting. The offer was a deal, of sorts. She would be granted a mortal life, in a mortal shell; all she would have to do was obey the one who had summoned her for the length of her life. 'That is easily enough done,' the imprisoned being thought openly: she would be able to experience a life. Although it would be a life as short as those who had visited her, that was fine. It was something different. Besides, why should she stay here, blind and with only the sounds of her dripping wounds to keep her company?
Despite the inability to see anymore, she did not mind the mask. At least she no longer had to stare at the walls of her prison. Walls bathed in an eerie red glow. If there was one thing that she was certain of, it was that she hated the color red. She would hate it now, and for all eternity.
Her last coherent thought before she accepted the call of the other was, 'those men had covered my face, not because I was ugly to them, but because they did not wish to see my beauty: A beauty marred by the path of tears...'
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Author's Notes:
I hope you enjoyed it. I thought of this quick fic while I was walking around in the mall a few hours ago. I trust that the identity of this 'being' is quite evident.
Well, please review and tell me what you think of it. I trust that it was able to keep your attention, and caused you to think. Oh well, time for me to go and get back to editing Conversations.
Later,
P.V.