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alchemiccereza · 12 days ago

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"The Puppet Soldier"

Human/Hungover ENA x Reader (Soldier Theory) Warnings/Tags: Light wound description, Mentions of blood & war, Death Word count: 1,783 ENA is Joel G's

Her skin is clammy. You skim your fingers over her flesh in a gentle manner, just checking on the woman. Her skin seems more pale, perhaps from the moonlight that dances in from the open side of the tenting. Or maybe it’s due to her injuries. You hope you did well. Hope that the woman is going to be okay. Your shoddy construction seems to be enough to last the night but you hope it’s hard to spot. Your duty as a citizen calls for ignorance, but your oath refuses such an idea.

This woman belonged to the other side. It was obvious from the colors she wore and the emblem inscribed in metal that proudly shone from her cap. After you had tugged her over and staunched her bleeding you made sure to gently turn the cap away. Out of sight out of mind. She should have been regarded with that same motto and yet- you hauled her form over through the dirt and the branches and the rocks. You huffed with sharp, suspicious eyes in an attempt to guard your treachery to your people. But not to your kind. Too many lives snuffed out from orders by men that could never grasp the terror of bleeding out for nothing.

You had used dwindling rope to secure a sheet between trees, moss tickling your fingers and contaminating them. But the sense of privacy was enough. It was all you could afford; and so you had leaned down beside the unconscious woman and carefully pulled the fabric away from her torso. It looked soaked, the pungent smell of iron and wetness lingering in your nose. Familiar and yet always unsettling. A sigh left you at the sight beneath this woman’s layers. It looked bad. Like her body was struggling to scab her wound over and heal up. She could die out here.

Despite a lack of real practice in the field, you yanked your large sack over and started rooting through the supplies. Bottles of antiseptic, rolls of bandages and gauze cluttered among scissors and surgical threading. The thought of using that last item had made you queasy. You’d barely learned to stitch flesh back together but it seemed imperative tonight. Even still, you had waddled over on your knees and tried to flush your hands clean without wasting too much of the sterile liquid. The soldier would need the majority of the bottle.

When you had poured it over her skin you heard a sharp hiss from below. Her limbs had contracted, the muscles tightening in response to the intense stinging she felt. Guilt ate at you but you knew she would die if you didn’t try. Your hand shook even as you pushed the woman down, muttering apologies and debating if you needed to silence her for both of your safety. Your hand had quivered even harder when you held the needle next to mangled skin, caked blood lingering on the flesh since you were afraid of aggravating the wound. Your mind screamed that you did not possess the skill to save this life and yet another part of you cried out to try anyway. So the needle pierced the flesh, puncturing the flesh at hopefully the right distance and you tugged it over. Your brow creased in concentration, one hand holding her still at the hips when she would gasp in pain or writhe weakly to escape your hands.

Through the ordeal, your soldier never said a true word. Nothing more than grunts of pain and gasps of weakness. You barely caught the color of her eyes- midnight. Maybe the night’s cloaking over the world made them appear darker than they were but they seemed almost black. It had sent a chill down your spine, reaffirmed what you were told about her side. But after her eyes fluttered closed and her head stilled on the pillow with nothing but softness in her features- you saw her. You had the time to sit there and trace the soft curve of her jaw with sight alone. She had to be young, probably not even into her thirties. This was someone’s daughter. Someone’s friend. Someone’s soldier. But she was your patient right now.

The soldier hasn’t stirred since. She lays flat on her back, brows twitching occasionally alongside her moving chest to remind you that she is still alive. You shift her unbuttoned top again to check her bandages. It’s to assuage your own anxiety since she’s already bled through all of your gauze. Getting more supplies from your city is too risky, it's too far and you feel like you shouldn’t leave her alone for that long. So you just linger here, sitting on the dirt next to her makeshift cot, counting the stars and wondering if any of these breaths might be her last.

“You’re an idiot…” Mumbles a voice that’s rumbly from a dry, strained throat.

Your head immediately snaps over in shock at the sound of her voice. It’s distinctly feminine and while it’s weak, you certainly can discern the honest belief in her words. After your shock wears away you level your expression and your voice. “Yes. Maybe so.”

Crickets chirp in the brush around your shoddy tent. Wind drags its cold caresses over the skin that you left bare. The soldier peers up at you with very lidded eyes. You wonder if she’s even lucid enough to have a proper conversation. It might be her final burst of energy. She swallows despite the clear resistance her parched throat puts up. “You don’t know what you’re doing… do you?”

You dismiss the question with your own more important one. “What’s your name?”

The soldier makes an annoyed tsk-like sound and shifts her head to the side. Her bangs brush over her pale skin and reach for the ground. Distrust is written all over her face, and yet you understand it. The feeling plagues you even now- but the sight of her pain and the duty of your oath are not so easily dismissed. You shift in the leaves and lay on the ground beside her, inches away. Your voice is patient and level when you tell her, “I wouldn’t have done any of that if my intention was anything but to save your life.” She remains turned away and silent so you continue. “I’m in more danger than you are. You know that, don’t you?”

Her head slowly turns towards you and the only indication of pain that she lets slip is a subtle crinkle at the corner of her eyes. They are dark. Deep and rich in their color, so much so that you’ve lost the soft traces of what must be brown. Her lashes aren’t too long but there's a few on the bottom row that seem prominent, giving the soldier almost a harrowing beauty. Purples bloom beneath the skin of her undereye, swollen with what must be a lack of sleep. She doesn’t look like she’s slept properly in years.

Her chapped lips part for her to respond, “You should have let me die.” It’s said cleanly. Nothing more than fact, devoid of nuanced emotion. A stringent statement, no room for argument- even from her own emotions towards it.

You shake your head in denial, a soft motion as disappointment curves your features. “No.” You assert softly. “I couldn’t.”

So you and the soldier fall back into silence as she takes your words in. It’s hard to read her, she’s a stranger and likely trained in the art of believing only in a higher command. Her own heart and mind do not command the body she inhabits- it’s actions are always premeditated by another.

Once again the crickets in the woods sing a song that you can’t discern and various bugs light up or buzz nearby to fill the silence. You wonder if you should start a fire despite the smoke it would cause. The risk might only be worth taking if the sick need it. So you reach out to press your palm to the soldier’s forehead. She recoils with a grunt of pain as her stitched skin protests such a jerked motion. You make your sound of annoyance and lean up to grab her.

“Stop that.” You scold before trying again. She looks up at you with obvious distaste and distrust but you don’t pull away until you’re certain she’s not feverish. Your hand removes itself and you allow her space. Again, you try to ask about her. “What’s your name?”

The pinched look she gives you is weak but clearly born of annoyance. “Ugh…”

Your hand grows closer, the tips of your fingers bumping her own. You wish she felt safer with you. But you understand her distrust. Looking down at her, she still seems pale and weak so you lower your gaze further to her wounded torso. The bandaging is tight, you ensured that much. She’ll live from shoddy stick work but she won't survive constant blood loss. Ever so carefully, your free hand brushes the cloth. It’s stained deeply, wet to the touch. The warm blood feels so hot you could convince yourself you’ve burned your skin on it. It rose to the final layer so quickly…

“I forgive you.” You tell her quietly, your voice almost drowned away by the sounds of nature around you. With your eyes on her bandages, you miss the flicker in her expression. Let her have it to herself, especially if this may be one of her final moments of vulnerability. Your hand is gentle and slow as it rolls her own over. You place your palm into hers and look up into inky eyes. They shimmer in the moonlight, yet grow more dull and weak as the minutes drag by. Her neck tenses as she swallows again before giving you a little nod. Your hand clasps over her own, her fingers weakly curling around your warm palm.

Your other hand smoothens her uniform jacket back over the wet bandage, obscuring it from both of your sights. There’s more you want to say, more you’d like to ask. You wish you knew her as more than a soldier, more than a nametag. You want to know what her mother said she would be called, the name that was chosen for her with love and not service.

But the soldier’s moments are short and dwindling. She inhales a few more times, each one wet and shaky as she holds your gaze. You don’t need to force her to exert herself to say thanks, she’s said it with her eyes alone. Before long, they turn to the sky and the soldier takes her final, hoarse breath.

A/N:I have writers block LMAO so maybe this will be put on AO3 and maaaybe it'll be more than a blurb to practice. I dunno. But seeing those little soldier Ena and nurse Coral Glasses get me so intrigued. Also I am not a nurse nor a soldier so my bad on any perceptible inaccuracies.

#ena dream bbq #ena x reader #x reader #ena joel g #fanfiction #sad ending #mentions of death #mentions of war

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alchemiccereza · 22 days ago

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My Interpretation of ENA's Halves

This is absolutely going to be nothing groundbreaking but I wanna ramble into the air about this fixation lol.

To me, ENA's halves are not two separate beings, I think that's a common consensus. Instead, they represent a psychological theory of the Id and Superego specifically. (long post)

Staring with Series ENA, she's got very digestible halves. "Sad" versus "Happy." This happy side is the palatable side, the one that's easier to talk to and reason with. She is our superego. The superego is defined as the part of the brain/personality that basically follows societal rules and what moral/authority figures taught you. It is the side of you that would keep your impulses, fantasies and emotions in check, criticizing them and their expressions. It is a direct contradiction to the Id. Could be known to keep the Id in check.

Our Id can be described simply as our impulses. Caveman thoughts, even. Sigmund Freud, the creator of this theory, described the Id as "the dark, inaccessible part of our personality." Also interestingly enough, he claims the Id to be responsible for human desires to procreate and cause death/destruction. Which, in turn, makes me think of Series ENA's constant wishes for her life to be ended. Almost everything her sad side says reminds me of things that may be thought but are inappropriate to say in society.

Sad Ena is loud, she is almost unfiltered in how she says exactly what she's thinking and she is dramatic. She's not known to mince her words when it comes to her suicidal ideation. She just says it all with her outbursts.

Meanwhile, in Auction Day's intro to her character, you see her express excitement, then "glitch out" and reveal the other side of herself who just absolutely shuts down any idea of fun. Like they are in conflict with one another. After her outburst, ENA glitches again to return to her happy side and makes a dissatisfied or maybe embarrassed grunt before apologizing for her behavior. Like she failed to keep the Id in check properly and now faces social repercussions.

Now for the ego. It's described as a "reality principle." It represents reason and common sense. "It seeks to find a balance between the natural drives of the id, the limitations imposed by reality, and the strictures of the superego." Freud describes the ego as having three masters: the external word, the Id and the Superego. Moments when ENA calls reality into question may be indictive of her ego, a proper blend of her two other halves, her Id (Sad) and Superego (happy). When she says Moony's joke was odd in Auction Day and even Drunk ENA's rant in Extinction Party where she says, "What are you even saying? Everything here is so weird..." The ego is also described as a sense of self, which I believe is really important especially for Temptation Stairway and it's ending.

Now, happy ENA still says odd things, she speaks in long winded sentences or uses hefty words like "salutations" or "could I inquire how your physical form was able to reach this place in such a short duration of time" and I want to suggest that maybe this is because she is lacking a proper ego. Her happy side/superego is very rule and manner bound, possibly even seen as suppressant to her sad/Id side. The ego would take the desires and impulses of the Id, the structure of the superego and the reality of the world into account as the most conscious function of the mind.

Correct me if I'm wrong but Temptation Stairway might be the first time we hear ENA's voices unbound by the sides she has. She speaks in both voices for both reactions and I take this as an "ego death." From what I understand, lol, an ego death is a fundamental change in your mind/psyche. Described as "temporarily experienc[ing] a complete loss of subjective self-identity." To me, that sounds like what happens to ENA in Temptation Stairway. Her voices and in turn, her sides meld together, harder to distinguish and shown to the viewer by the occasional swapped tones. Now, ego death has also been closely related to "The Hero's Journey." Hopefully you're familiar with that rudimentary writing trope/tool from school.

Joel G intended for Temptation Stairway to be the series end. This is when ENA goes on her hero's journey. Moony calls her to adventure, climbing The Great Runas to make a wish. She enters the threshold through the blue mannequin and faces trials from Ulysses, The Shepard, Phindoll and Mariya & Gabo. The abyss? Perhaps all the Holy Code she jumps into, particularly when we see the floating mannequins/ENAs. Probably linked to Ulysses' warning of "failing like the rest of them." During this episode is also when we get introduced to a fully saddened ENA, her Id run rampant who never speaks, only screams and flounders around in agony, only snapped to her sense by another force- by force.

Now, here's where things get tricky. Moony nor ENA comment on ENA's transformation in the hall/bedroom of The Great Runas. We know Moony got there first, we know she was the one to make a wish and we know what she claims that wish to be. But there's also a debt to pay. Due to the nature and SFX of "primal/human" Moony, I believe that's the debt. Admittedly, when I first got into the show I heard the theory that Moony wished for ENA to be happy since she's seen how much her sadness and self destructive impulses have taken over. Being a good, yet humble/emotionally distant (for lack of better term) friend, Moony doesn't want to explicitly tell ENA that she made a wish in ENA's favor. Is that correct? I dunno. Can anyone say for certain anything about this fuckass show? Point is, that's the lens of which I view Temptation Stairway's ending.

ENA's boon was meant to be harmony, of some sense. For the Id to be relegated to her subconscious where it belongs so that she may function more easily under the guidance of her ego and superego. She has a stronger sense of self, perhaps even shown to us by the continued prevalence of both voices despite the pure yellow/happy look she's adopted.

Now... that being said. We have Power of Potluck. ENA has regained her blue side and it now appears almost growth-like from her face. It is almost a separate being, conversing with ENA herself and even guiding her around a few times like in the pipe room. Her Id and Superego have once more- and maybe even more than before- found themselves at odds with one another directly. The mask/Id take everything at face value, seeking enrichment and instant gratification while ENA/the superego seem to question the nature of things. "How can a chore like this jollify someone anywho?" I do want to mention that this episode of course seems very heavy on being themed around the act of "masking" and I don't want to seem like I am discrediting that. I'm simply throwing my red string and pins up on my board for fun.

In the end, Power of Potluck also follows the hero's journey to a more emotional/existential degree this time around. Her boon this time is an acceptance that she needs both halves of her to go on- that life cannot be lived without sadness and happiness in conjunction. Of course, we can also interpret this psychologically that we need our natural impulses and desires as much as we need human society's structure. ENA has taken this journey herself and taken her boon herself, returning to Moony with a more proper ego. I say she has properly attained her ego because of her reaction to the strange man. Ego, again, is the part of our mind that judges and analyzes the world to help us form proper interpretations and how to respond, guided by reality, the Id and the superego.

That is a judgmental face if I have ever seen one- a rare sight on her. This is the most judgmental we see her too, going so far as to place her hands around her face as if checking to see if what she's seeing is actually happening. Moony even comments, going, "Whaat?" before she eats (?) him.

All of her responses at the end of Power of Potluck are cohesive, she judges and examines the world without breaking into a fit at the first sign of opposition or oddity. I believe through a self transformation of her own mind during this episode, ENA found how to properly exist and has "rebirthed" her ego to work in conjunction with her Id and superego.

If you couldn't tell, I am not a psychology major. I took a class in high school lol. This is just me babbling out how I've taken her dual personalities as extensions of herself. I will never perceive either of the ENA's as anything but separate displays of one full self. I adore how Joel's work is so fun and yet makes me think, even if I may stretch an idea and be off the mark. It's the beauty of art and absurdism, that nothing makes sense or necessarily has true meaning. It is more important what you garner from it.

#ena #ena joel g #ena theory #psychology #sigmund freud

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