The thing trying to occupy this body is vast and unknowable, which is a fun twist, because the thing which should be occupying the body— this second one being Kaworu— is also vast and unknowable, but in a more carefully-restrained way. It's like he's looking at the tip of an iceberg, a little bit comforting white snow above a lot bit horrible eldritch glacier; and then there's another, fully-fucked-up glacier trying to press it out of the way. The situation is more slippery than he'd like, and he doesn't know what might happen if he changes the water line.
He doesn't know what will look out of Kaworu's eyes if he loosens the leash.
But he is God, and he invented soul-pinning. Maybe he can't pry the Leviathan away, but he can at least fix Kaworu nearer the top; he can stabilize things, lessen the slippage. Maybe it won't hold forever, with the gravity of the Leviathan still exerting its pull. But it'd make for fewer hallway floods, probably. ]
Let's give this a try.
[ He reaches out, palm-up, in offer. Kaworu has struggled up to sitting, so Kaworu can make the choice to take his hand.
When he does, God will fix his soul in place and hold it there, in the grip of blazing power. If they're lucky, it should— in time— start to feel like solid ground. If they're lucky, the pain won't last. ]
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The thing trying to occupy this body is vast and unknowable, which is a fun twist, because the thing which should be occupying the body— this second one being Kaworu— is also vast and unknowable, but in a more carefully-restrained way. It's like he's looking at the tip of an iceberg, a little bit comforting white snow above a lot bit horrible eldritch glacier; and then there's another, fully-fucked-up glacier trying to press it out of the way. The situation is more slippery than he'd like, and he doesn't know what might happen if he changes the water line.
He doesn't know what will look out of Kaworu's eyes if he loosens the leash.
But he is God, and he invented soul-pinning. Maybe he can't pry the Leviathan away, but he can at least fix Kaworu nearer the top; he can stabilize things, lessen the slippage. Maybe it won't hold forever, with the gravity of the Leviathan still exerting its pull. But it'd make for fewer hallway floods, probably. ]
Let's give this a try.
[ He reaches out, palm-up, in offer. Kaworu has struggled up to sitting, so Kaworu can make the choice to take his hand.
When he does, God will fix his soul in place and hold it there, in the grip of blazing power. If they're lucky, it should— in time— start to feel like solid ground. If they're lucky, the pain won't last. ]