葛城 ミサト
Katsuragi Misato
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T H E B R E A K D O W N Misato Katsuragi † NAME
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A curse - one that not many know about - is that everyone that has had contact with Evangelion is doomed to be emotionally disturbed, leading to an inevitable nervous breakdown or suicide.
Despite this - it is possible that one can heal from these wounds.
We'll have to see.
PERSONALITY † Misato is a mix of nonplussed and amused — and can use that to her advantage to make any situation a comedic show. On the outside it may seem that she is promiscuous when the truth is she’s only been had by a single man — Ryoji Kaji. She just has the sex appeal of a fox only because being sultry or interacting in a sexual manner is the only way she understands how to convey emotions and care for others, which is why she is confused as a whore rather than an emotional being with well-meaning intentions. When crossed she can be extremely sore, sarcastic, and often vicious in verbiage.
SECRETS † Makoto Hyuga’s feelings for her are reciprocated in the fullest but because Misato hates herself she won’t allow herself to be blissfully in love in a healthy, meaningful relationship; therefore having Hyuga-kun under the impression she is completely about Kaji when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
DISORDERS † Borderline Personality Disorder. Alcoholism. Borderline hoarder. Borderline Codependency. Love Addiction. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
BIOGRAPHY † Misato grew up in a volatile home. Her father left her mother at an early age because his personality gifted him with denial that he was a parent and that he just didn’t want to deal with this aspect of adulthood and familial relationships. This caused Misato’s mother to be upset on a consistent basis and the situation altogether caused a child, who was not supposed to have adult responsibilities, to take on as such and forced herself to conform to a perfectionist, “the good child”, in order to accommodate her mother’s emotional incapacitation.
The one thing that caused her to question her father’s loyalty, and therefore her own opinion of him, was when he sacrificed his life for her by placing her in a hyper-secure capsule right when the first Angel or Being of Light appeared during Second Impact. This confused the hell out of her as a child and therefore the trauma of not only her entire life, but witnessing the damage of what the Being of Light did, caused her to become mute for the rest of her prepubescence and adolescence. When she entered college she’d healed somewhat and made friends with Ritsuko Akagi, who was also the daughter of a doctor who was involved in what was Gehirn at the time, and therefore spoke once more. But according to Ritsuko, Misato “spoke so much as if to make up for lost time”.
There, she met and fell in love with Ryoji Kaji — who was unmistakably, in both mind, body, and spirit, practically a reincarnation of her own father. She fell for him not because he genuinely cared for her — but because she was attempting to recreate the relationship with her paternal parent but also to fill the empty void of her life with sexual and emotional ecstasy of a romantic relationship. It was to avoid the fact that her heart and every day life was sorely lacking. It was a bandage that couldn’t fix the hemorrhage of emotional wounds of her entire existence.
As an adult, she was in Germany when NERV first formed and worked alongside Kaji, and then moved to Japan right before Shinji Ikari was summoned to service. There, she took a motherly interest in Shinji and used him, unconsciously, as an escape from her own intense loneliness and empty life.
After years of separation from Kaji since college — she broke up with him because it pained her to see her falling exactly for the person who broke her heart as a child and the fact she felt like she didn’t deserve anything good — and a good drunken blitz since then to cope with her empty existence, they rekindled their romance when he joined NERV at the Japanese site. There, she supported him knowing that he was on an espionage mission from the JSSDF and risked her own welfare and life to do so.
However, she was vaguely aware that Makoto Hyuga, one of the head NERV Technicians that worked alongside her, as she was Operations Director, had been in love with her since her first break up with Kaji. Feeling she didn’t deserve something as wholesome, and that maybe he really wasn’t in love with her, and that this was true, and deep, and real — she did what she did best. And like Shinji, *she ran.* Back into the arms of a man who didn’t care much of her other than a distant piece of personal welfare and what she could do for him in bed.
Misato hated the Angels because of how they ruined her life. Or, rather, what little she had of one.
With Shinji and Asuka in her quarters she felt she could pretend to have at least a *semblance* of a normal lifestyle. That she had someone else to care about other than Pen Pen — of whom she genuinely loved, of course — and maybe that would melt the cracks of her heart together again, hopefully like the gold the Japanese used as an ancient method of repairing broken pottery.
Kaji died due to an error he made during a top secret mission — playing double agent for both Commander Ikari and the JSSDF only to find out information for his own benefit — leaving Misato devastated. All she had to cling onto, as far as an adult support, was Makoto Hyuga. Her feelings were developing but did not grow or were budded because of Third Impact. The moment she turned to LCL she spoke with Kaji, likely as a dead spirit and not the Instrumentality created by Rei, asking if she did the right thing for Shinji.
SAMPLE RP †
It was not your average day in Tokyo-3. Or — at least what was left of it. 3rd Impact sure left a doozy not only on the economy but on the infrastructure of the city itself. Misato stood in the golden light of the morning while staring at the horizon of the rising sun while slowly drinking a can of coffee; whereas she usually just chugged it down before work. However, there was no work. And now? She had a reason to appreciate what she had worked for. The Angels were gone. She survived Third Impact and Instrumentality… Granted, she thought for sure it was the end for her once she was shot in the back. Misato remembered speaking to the spirit of Kaji who stood there and comforted her in her final moments — but instead of dying via the explosion in the tiny hangar? She remembered seeing Kaji step aside as the figure of Rei Ayanami, dressed in her usual fuku school uniform, morph into that of Makoto Hyuga. *…Hyuga-kun?* Misato remembered whispering as he crouched down to put his hand softly on her head and pulled her torso, however wounded, into what he could of his lap, and held her.
He wasn’t wearing the business uniform of a technician of NERV. It was the outfit she remembered him wearing the afternoon they went for coffee. Hyuga-kun wore a western-styled dress shirt tucked into a pair of navy blue, khaki slacks. He’d worn a tie with it and suspenders for added effect. The guy actually looked pretty classy outside of work, to be honest. Handsome as all get-out, too, and unfortunately, Misato made him wait all morning because she’d slept in after another drunken, blitzed evening she couldn’t remember. It wasn’t until about forty-five minutes after twelve-hundred hours she managed to call him from her Nokia flip-phone just outside of the shoppe. He’d answered the call and remained calm. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t frustrated. Not passive-aggressive or anything. In fact, he sounded relieved and glad she was okay. Like he knew that was how their date was supposed to go.
The former Major’s eyes widened in realization as she held the can against her lips to drink the cold, brewed caffeine formula. …It was a date. Misato lowered her arm and looked down at the opening of the lid of the can, seeing the sun shimmer on the aluminum. She tilted the can forward, watching her wrist bend somewhat, only to see the speckles of reflective light race around the rim of the can. …Huh.
…Why didn’t I remember that sooner?
Oh, right, dealing with the Angels and protecting humanity from themselves was not only personally traumatizing, but globally.
That, and as said in the Dead Sea Scrolls? Anyone who came into close contact with EVA, whether directly or indirectly, was doomed to not only suffer excruciating mental trauma… *but also memory loss.* Perhaps not the entire archive of their lifely experience — but bits and pieces that were there to make the puzzle make sense.
And this was why she forgot that it was a date. On top of that, the fact that she loathed herself intensely due to all of the psychological washing of her child’s ego and emotional stature, she probably didn’t take his affections seriously. Not in a sense that she didn’t accept them and show some sort of reciprocation — but the fact that she didn’t want to believe this kind of genuine affection for her was real. Because everything in her life came at a price — and any extension of kindness always seemed to be some kind of trap to her.
Third Impact was over and only a handful of Earth’s citizens had reformed from Instrumentality. She didn’t blame the ones who stayed. It’d be easier to live their lives in a liquidy-orange cocoon. It was completely understandable. Even before the Advent of the return of the Angels the world was under depression as it was. Souls were lonely and cut off from one another. The connection that the Divine Buddha and that Christ had purported as extremely important to individual and collective Enlightenment happened — but on a man-made scale against the wills of every citizen on the planet. This was an artificial enlightenment brought on by technology rather than an individual form of Gnosis that was genuine. Gnosis did not mean that one must die to reach Shangri-La. Because God did not require a dead sacrifice; but a living one.
Taking in a breath through her nose and sighing through the same cavity, she brought the can up and took a last swig before tossing it into a nearby recycle bin. The tin clanged against the inside wall of the metal cylinder as she turned, hearing a commotion nearby.
The ocean had flooded over many parts of Japan in a translucent red and was apparent on the horizon line before her — across the very street she stood on, in fact. Blood was typically dark crimson and thick — but because it had become diluted by the salty ocean it was as thin as a watered down tropical fruit drink. It was still clear as clean water was but only with the dye of bleeding flesh.
Every street was quiet. There was no traffic of vehicles or those on foot. It was just her in this abandoned area. Those who returned to fleshly existence, what little there were, vacated Tokyo-3. They did not want to remember the nightmare. How could they escape it, though? The rancid smell of dead flesh filled the air and permeated every nostril and lung that was available on the planet. This was a job bigger than that of Public Works to take care of. A collected effort of the entire globe would be required and each City Hall didn’t have the capacity to do it on their own or even together; this was a job for the EPA, the world military, and whatever clean up crew they could find. Even if the did come together? Where the hell did someone put a gargantuan dead body? And what about the blood in the oceans? How was it possible to filter that mess up?
Turning on her heel she saw a young man running toward her. Without thought, she stepped aside coolly as he clumsily went past her and tripped over his own footing and crashed right into the recycle bin. There was a loud crash as he bent it into disrepair and unintentionally yanked it off its hinges and fell into a heap on top of it.
“…Bakayaro,” she muttered. Translated into English she said: …Fucking idiot.
Upon hearing the wind above her swiftly move around her in an odd sensation, her platinum violet hair flew around wildly, yet softly, throughout the air around her head and shoulders. She had no choice but to look up. Someone was flying.
“Nanda…” She asked herself. What the…?
Her red beret was in hand and the matching, decorative pseudo-military jacket she wore was unbuttoned over her bosom in its usual mess(the gyaru in her, apparently, with the block of a white cross dangling from her necklace over her collar), and underneath she wore that sultry black dress she adored. Dropping her hat, instinctively her left hand went to the gun holster under her jacket.
Misato whipped out her pistol and aimed it at the flying figure above her, “OMAE WA?!” She demanded. YOU ARE?! and as transliterated: AND WHO ARE YOU?
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O U T - O F - C H A R A C T E R First Off: Thanks for visiting my profile! If you're not a dick - I probably won't be either. Leave your llama-drama at the door. Mainly for main chat play. Please have the writing equivalency of a high school graduate. If you want to RP in PM please ask me first. PM friendly. If I don't respond right away I'm afk or busy. No Smut or Romance. This character wasn't made for the sole purpose of smut so please understand when I tell you 'no'. Not going to pair this character with Shinji or any other shota. |
