( at first, four doesn't understand. he doesn't panic, doesn't hurry his way to a response, going instead through different possibilities silently before he settles on what feels like the most likely subject. he bases this on elan ceres' glance at his handbook and his general yet also focused attention on, well, him. the books do not seem to interest him, four also notes and does not mind. it makes it more likely that they are a gift rather than a loan, and while this perplexes him in any variation, he also will not refuse them.
when four has no idea of something, his face softens even more, akin to the universe's most inadvertent puppy eyes both on the note of not being able to obscure the question mark but also not knowing what's going on. the word "pure" might come to mind though four would use "blank", if asked to analyze his own image in such a situation. but four never pretends at ignorance unless he's trying to get away from a conversation, which often can be done by simply pretending to not hear it in the first place — aloof, untouchable, the "elan ceres" the school 'knows' and admires, respects, dislikes, finds truly odd...just to name a few.
strain. that's one way to put it.
there hadn't been much conversational precedence around what four would experience as a gundam pilot except what to hide and to make sure stayed hidden. very little explanation or perceivable research into the way sometimes, more often lately, not even piloting, four finds himself struggling to breathe and feeling like heavy hands are pushing into his head to press it apart from the inside. it's sheer dumb luck no one has run across him when this sort of thing happens as it always does: without warning and utterly inconvenient. he mentioned it once to belmeria winston as an answer to one of her routine questions and she hummed that inconsolable intonation of hers and murmured something about "I see".
more or less what he expected.
on the daily, four keeps himself to himself for so many reasons, but more and more lately it is as much to survive as anything else. if it hurts, he can't do much about that, but he can: discipline his calm, his breaths, his body movement. minimize on all accounts and perhaps he can steal some time back before he is replaced.
because these days four has come close to that conclusion he supposes the second clone assumed from the jump: it's inevitable.
the enhanced persons experiment is exactly that, and four is their best yet but far from perfect. maybe it is also a lie anyway, that there exists some superior form of an elan ceres clone who both could wear his face and prevail against the gundam's curse.
then again, that's not the only kind of curse out there. four's hands don't curl at his sides but it's a near thing. his gaze lowers with the soft incline of his head, on the highwire above and below different kinds of endless things. there is no point in lying. elan ceres is not asking because he doesn't know; he can tell. he is asking because he does. )
Yes, but they say my capacity remains unclear.
( as of yet no "you'll be able to handle the next duel" or any such words implying he won't after that. as of yet only "try not to raise your permet score unless you need to", a weak attempt at prolonging a guinea pig's life not for the guinea pig but perhaps because five isn't ready or the string of data four has accumulated so-far is just useful enough they don't want to start over. as of yet.
but elan ceres has brought attention to it in a way four typically avoids like the plague, has made a near art of doing so — the most malformed version of out of sight out of mind one can manage. it isn't shocking to him when the focus of it makes him feel it more.
again though: inconvenient.
his posture seems a little more rigid, the neutral line of his mouth tighter, both things that might not stand out on anyone else. )
no subject
when four has no idea of something, his face softens even more, akin to the universe's most inadvertent puppy eyes both on the note of not being able to obscure the question mark but also not knowing what's going on. the word "pure" might come to mind though four would use "blank", if asked to analyze his own image in such a situation. but four never pretends at ignorance unless he's trying to get away from a conversation, which often can be done by simply pretending to not hear it in the first place — aloof, untouchable, the "elan ceres" the school 'knows' and admires, respects, dislikes, finds truly odd...just to name a few.
strain. that's one way to put it.
there hadn't been much conversational precedence around what four would experience as a gundam pilot except what to hide and to make sure stayed hidden. very little explanation or perceivable research into the way sometimes, more often lately, not even piloting, four finds himself struggling to breathe and feeling like heavy hands are pushing into his head to press it apart from the inside. it's sheer dumb luck no one has run across him when this sort of thing happens as it always does: without warning and utterly inconvenient. he mentioned it once to belmeria winston as an answer to one of her routine questions and she hummed that inconsolable intonation of hers and murmured something about "I see".
more or less what he expected.
on the daily, four keeps himself to himself for so many reasons, but more and more lately it is as much to survive as anything else. if it hurts, he can't do much about that, but he can: discipline his calm, his breaths, his body movement. minimize on all accounts and perhaps he can steal some time back before he is replaced.
because these days four has come close to that conclusion he supposes the second clone assumed from the jump: it's inevitable.
the enhanced persons experiment is exactly that, and four is their best yet but far from perfect. maybe it is also a lie anyway, that there exists some superior form of an elan ceres clone who both could wear his face and prevail against the gundam's curse.
then again, that's not the only kind of curse out there. four's hands don't curl at his sides but it's a near thing. his gaze lowers with the soft incline of his head, on the highwire above and below different kinds of endless things. there is no point in lying. elan ceres is not asking because he doesn't know; he can tell. he is asking because he does. )
Yes, but they say my capacity remains unclear.
( as of yet no "you'll be able to handle the next duel" or any such words implying he won't after that. as of yet only "try not to raise your permet score unless you need to", a weak attempt at prolonging a guinea pig's life not for the guinea pig but perhaps because five isn't ready or the string of data four has accumulated so-far is just useful enough they don't want to start over. as of yet.
but elan ceres has brought attention to it in a way four typically avoids like the plague, has made a near art of doing so — the most malformed version of out of sight out of mind one can manage. it isn't shocking to him when the focus of it makes him feel it more.
again though: inconvenient.
his posture seems a little more rigid, the neutral line of his mouth tighter, both things that might not stand out on anyone else. )