( It may seem like a random encounter, that Peter's Omen finds its way to Kaworu's spirit by chance. It isn't, because maybe they only spoke once or twice and maybe it was a long time ago, but connection was still made between Peter and Paimon and this mysterious being that looks like a young man on the surface.
Susurrus (a name that means a hum, a hiss, a whisper of wind through endless trees) is reaching out these days. Cautious but curious, shy but alien, some mixture of the two souls that the Omen belongs to. His mental voice is a soft hiss that gently calls out to Kaworu's spirit, tries to find the Omen tethered to it, wherever the other entity may be now. )
The reply is light, almost lyrical, with an undercurrent of self-assurance that radiates in even the simple words spoken. The omen, called Shinji-kun though perhaps not named as such, also sounds like an adolescent boy in pitch but something else in cadence. The mixture gives away his distinct nature as an omen.
( Susurrus wasn't sure what shape he might find, but this one has a youthfulness, something sweet to it. Yet also something ancient, as with all Omens. His tongue flicks curiously as he absorbs the awareness that he has found what he was looking for, and how to convey why he's sought them out. )
I think so. Though, I don't often speak out loud. I've found there's benefits to communication without words.
Is the easy reply. He's a quiet omen, rarely speaking to anyone, even Kaworu. But that doesn't mean he doesn't speak in his own way. He's found that the boy often gets muddled by words. It's easier to be direct.
I undersssstand. And much can be learned by obssserving.
( There's a certain wisdom to be found in staying quiet and watching. It isn't necessarily an absence; he's been right there with Peter this whole time. )
It issss. My boy isss..... fragile. He hassss been nervousss of me. I think he did not wishhhh for me to sssspeak to him.
Issss yoursss comforted by you?
( He's curious of other Omens' relationships to their Sleepers. )
[That is distinctly a young Duke in a low slung towel around his hips standing in front of a familiar mirror, water still dripping from his wet hair as he holds up his Omni and takes a series of photos of himself at different angles, flexing hard-earned, slight new muscle with a look of furrowed concentration.]
[Kaworu nods appreciatively. Paul has been trying hard and he appreciates that. It also helps him ignore that, even as an angel, he knows deep in his inhuman soul that this is cringe.]
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