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soul_logs2012-09-18 08:48 am
dead_black_eyes) wrote in soul_logs2012-09-18 08:48 am
Entry tags:
Very Bad Things, Such Horrible Things, but it's Not Quite What it Seems [March 23]
Characters: L Lawliet, Light Yagami, and Mello
Location: Various locations in Death City, depending on the people and the thread.
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of violence, probably
Time: 23rd March, late afternoon (and potentially going quite late)
Description: L's been putting his life together, finding purpose outside of his obsession, and generally working on moving on from the case that killed him. But addicts have a discouragingly high relapse rate, and Light is back in the city.
Around 5:00 PM, after a long, tiring day working on his latest assignment, L was still restless and strangely dissatisfied. Maybe it was because Kadaj was more difficult than he'd ever given the man credit for. It wasn't like supervising a criminal so much as babysitting a petulant child or a beastly, pigheaded animal. But that shouldn't have been it. L had always rejoiced in challenges, even if meant that his weight dropped and his under eye circles started to look like he'd been punched in a bad bar fight. Physical deterioration was a small price to pay to keep his boredom and competitive hunger at bay, but that was just it.
L had been piling on especially punishing missions, company and assignments, but they only suppressed his hunger. They did nothing in the long term to sate it, and the irony was he was actually doing better for it. Bakura had seemingly stepped up as his caretaker by proxy, ensuring that L's sleeping schedule was relatively regular and he was fed daily. He had friends and even a partner. Despite L's hunger, it was a nonessential craving for something that was indisputably damaging, and he was well aware of it. A simple example of mind over matter, and the oft-repeated patient words that made him want to bite his own tongue in half, this too shall pass.
Location: Various locations in Death City, depending on the people and the thread.
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of violence, probably
Time: 23rd March, late afternoon (and potentially going quite late)
Description: L's been putting his life together, finding purpose outside of his obsession, and generally working on moving on from the case that killed him. But addicts have a discouragingly high relapse rate, and Light is back in the city.
Around 5:00 PM, after a long, tiring day working on his latest assignment, L was still restless and strangely dissatisfied. Maybe it was because Kadaj was more difficult than he'd ever given the man credit for. It wasn't like supervising a criminal so much as babysitting a petulant child or a beastly, pigheaded animal. But that shouldn't have been it. L had always rejoiced in challenges, even if meant that his weight dropped and his under eye circles started to look like he'd been punched in a bad bar fight. Physical deterioration was a small price to pay to keep his boredom and competitive hunger at bay, but that was just it.
L had been piling on especially punishing missions, company and assignments, but they only suppressed his hunger. They did nothing in the long term to sate it, and the irony was he was actually doing better for it. Bakura had seemingly stepped up as his caretaker by proxy, ensuring that L's sleeping schedule was relatively regular and he was fed daily. He had friends and even a partner. Despite L's hunger, it was a nonessential craving for something that was indisputably damaging, and he was well aware of it. A simple example of mind over matter, and the oft-repeated patient words that made him want to bite his own tongue in half, this too shall pass.
5:00 PM, Near the Apothecary [L + Light]
Hobbling into the store, he probably looked more than a little bit like death warmed over, due to his zombie-like, stilted gait and the fixed, dead-eyed stare that the day's drudgery had pasted to his pale face.
Crutches in hand and under armpits after a stiff, awkward conversation with the cashier about sprained ankles being generally disagreeable, L left, standing by the curb and waiting to hail a taxi for his return trip to his apartment. Immediately, an old man vacated a nearby bench, offering it to L.
L made a point of sitting, instead, on the sidewalk.
[Action]
It was this desperate line of thinking that had brought Light to the front gate of Death City a short while earlier in search of escape back to his proper place. It couldn't end like this. Not when he was so close...! Not when only a few final pins needed to fall over to allow Kira's reign to properly begin.
Instead of finding home on the other side, however, Light found himself overlooking a spanless desert that offered nothing but the promise it might well go on forever. ....likely exactly whoever had brought him here would -want- him to think. And so he had set out into it, determined he would shatter the illusion and put an end to this nonsense.
What he found was not the solution he'd been seeking, but the disconcerting realization that the further out he went, the worse things seemed to get. Fragments of voice had begun to gently assault him from all sides like sinister butterflies, always just below his range of hearing. Enduring it had been of little matter...at least until his vision was assaulted as well.
Boiling up from the sand beneath him, and all around him, had been countless screaming mouths and terrorized eyes. Some pleaded, some accused, some did nothing but scream. The people he'd betrayed by vanishing suddenly from the world he was not yet done cleansing? Light had nearly convinced himself of this until one face had stood out among the others. One that was painfully familiar. Soichiro's features were etched in something more than deep disapproval - the worst he could ever seem to summon for either of his children when they'd been disobedient. He glared at Light with absolute disgust, his mouth forming a single, clearly-articulated word.
Kira
It had finally been enough to send him scrambling back for the comfort of the city's walls, badly-shaken, and all the while convincing himself it had been impossible to have seen what he thought he'd seen as he walked quickly down one of the cobblestone streets, head down and his mind working furiously. Even if it was someone screwing around with him on dangerously-deep levels, there was no way they could have known. None.
He'd been very thorough. He'd--
Something interrupted his stride, making him furiously have to catch himself from falling over and on top of whatever-it-was. Managing to stay upright, Light turned to glare with reproach at whatever idiot had decided to crouch in the middle of the damned sidewalk...
...just to have the color promptly drain from his face.
Re: [Action]
Using his crutches, he pulled himself to his feet. A moment before, he had been too stubborn and prideful to accept an offered seat while he waited for a taxi, but now that someone was being inconsiderate, he had no problem flaunting his injury. "Really... I understand being in a hurry, but we have a basic set of rudimentary things called senses, such as sight, that are very helpful when it comes to..."
His eyes widened as they met a pair of familiar tawny ones. But older, and stricken, and informed on so many chilling levels, even if they momentarily looked like they were beholding a walking corpse.
Light looked like a man, and for some reason, that was disturbing to L. "Light-kun", that subtle, condescending dig, was no longer even vaguely appropriate. He had surpassed L in stature (or maybe it just appeared that way because his back was so straight), his shoulders were broader, his jawline harder and less boyish. He wore a suit that was only slightly dusty from what appeared to be a trip into the desert.
L reached for him, feeling strangely entitled to touching Light to confirm that he was real, that he was seeing the Light shaped by years he was absent and cold throughout. This was the Light of Mello and Near's era, one he hadn't yet met for himself. Was L obsolete to this man, or did his memory still hold some sway over the ruthless mass killer?
His fingertips brushed Light's lapel.
[Action]
Terror, indignation, and rage all fought to be forefront as he watched L struggle to his feet with the crutches.
What are you doing here?
His mouth worked as if he had meant to ask it aloud but couldn't quite find the means.
I watched you die, L. I watched them BURY you..! These affirmations of what he knew to be true, however, didn't seem to do much to stop the spidery digits from reaching for him. A sheen of sweat marbled his brow as he endured their brief scrutiny of his suit...
...and then finally broke the paralysis by taking a very abrupt step away.
No. No, you can't be here. You -can't-. I won, don't you understand?!
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The skin of Light's neck was hotter and damper than L had expected. The second he was aware that Light was sweating, he withdrew as if he'd been burned by the brief contact. Light, too, seemed spooked, staggering back to put distance between them.
"You'll get used to it..." he said quietly, referring to the strangeness of Death City and realizing that those had actually been some of his last personal words to Light back home.
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Had L really died?
Light felt he had settled that answer for himself more than satisfactorily. He had held L's body until the final breath had shuddered out of it, and had later taken his father along to see him in the morgue under the guise of a grieving friend who had decided that Ryuzaki deserved the dignity of being buried in a suit and should be sized for one. He had been as cold as clay to the touch - breathless, pulseless, and ghastly in his paleness from the embalming fluid.
And yet here he was.
L's words seemed to be the final push he needed to tear his eyes off of the detective, whirl on his heels, and take off at a dead run in the opposite direction. He had no idea where he was going, but panic reasoned that anywhere was fine. Just as long as it was 'away'.
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Still, Light's decision to turn and run sparked a sudden and automatic reaction in L. He had to give chase, of course, and pursue Kira in a more literal sense of the word. He'd only just arrived, and if he left again, so quickly, L would never know if he'd been right, and BREW had realized it and rectified its previous error.
Light wasn't a Weapon. Light was a Meister, and he was L's, and to let him escape now would be something that L could never forgive himself for.
His crutches fell forgotten at his side. His right foot landed without a problem, but his left collapsed after shooting waves of pain halted the attempt. He crumpled onto the sidewalk, watching in dismay as Light disappeared in the direction of the setting Sun.
One more thing that Takuto owed him for, he thought bitterly.
He flinched as a gentle hand touched his shoulder. The old man, the same one, that had offered him the bench just minutes before, helped him to his feet and handed him his crutches.
"It's not your day, is it? But your cab is here. I thought I'd let you know."
5:45 PM, Back at the Apartment [Audio] [L + Mello]
[The urgent tone of L's voice, along with the way he says the word "need", leaves no room for Mello to disagree.]
[Audio] Private
Sure, what is it?
Audio] Private
He's back. He's here, and he's older.
He ran off. I think I frightened him. I couldn't go after him because of my ankle, though, so... I want you to find out where he is. Please.
[Audio] Private
Old enough to know me?
[Audio]
[There is still an impatient edge to L's voice. He wants to be pursuing Light himself, not sending a successor to do it for him.
But with Light in the city, it is time to reign back the recklessness. L accepts this.]
[Audio]
And what happened to your ankle?
[He feels a twinge of guilt for not having checked in on L. He's been preoccupied.]
[Audio]
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[around 6 PM, Mello and Light]
After a moment of consideration, he ruled against stealing Near's fedora from Halloween as well, deciding it would make him noticeable enough to negate any benefit he'd get from it hiding his face.
He set out in the direction of the apothecary, angling somewhat on an intercept course, so that if Yagami had continued to head west, Mello would catch sight of him sooner or later. Hopefully sooner, and with luck, he wouldn't be spotted himself. It was much easier to keep tabs on the bastard when he didn't know he was being watched.
[Action]
At the moment, he was keeping to side-streets and alleyways, pointedly avoiding open places that might give L a chance to spot him.
...if it had even been L.
His being alive, after all, made absolutely no sense when Light had watched him die. He shouldn't have been nursing a bad ankle, he should have been turning to dust in his grave. If it, somehow, was L, did he know who had killed him? Who else had he told? Was there a police force in this "Death City" that would take an interest in murders that had happened in other worlds?
The unanswered questions gnatted around in his head, making him grit his teeth and clench his fists until his nails bit half-moons into his palms. More and more, he was being made to face that he had gone from having everything perfectly in control to having the rug cleanly yanked from underneath him. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
"Damn it...!" he hissed, the curse reverberating harshly between the two buildings he currently walked between.
[Action]
Good.
Following someone who was obviously aware of the possibility was a challenge he was up for, no matter how irritating it was to hurry along to get in front of where Yagami would emerge, then dawdle along the main street, pretending to look in shop windows, as he was doing now. Following him down an alley was obviously right out.
There were clear advantages to keeping Yagami in the dark about his own presence here, but there was a small part of Mello that would have relished a confrontation. He wasn't made for subterfuge; he preferred to lay everything out and go from there. But without express permission from L to reveal his presence, he was going to play it safe and keep his distance.
[Action]
Shinigami. The young man who'd addressed the chamber he'd arrived in had claimed to be the reigning shinigami over this city. Was this what Ryuk had meant when he'd explained that humans who had written in a Death Note were unable to go to heaven or hell? Did everyone just end up in some catch-all purgatory instead?
It would mean that, somehow, Light had died...and that L, at some point, had written in the Death Note. While he had no way of determining the latter for the time being, Light felt that if he'd died, even too quickly to register, he would have known it. Something of that enormity didn't just slip past unnoticed.
No. No, he wasn't dead, he decided with firm finality. But L was. And if he'd, somehow, forgotten it, Light would be glad to put him back in his place.
A hand crept to his wristwatch, fingertips fiddling for the crown of it beneath his sleeve's cuff.
[Action]
This had been so much easier back in their world, where Mello had had resources that were all but unlimited.
On the other hand, for all that he liked to criticize BREW's apparent operating philosophy, and continued to think it was haphazard at best and outright counterproductive at worst, he was reasonably sure by now it wouldn't have let the murder notebook into Death City.
That meant it was safe for him to get a little closer, to try to see what Yagami was up to.
[Action]
With a tiny metallic snick! the hidden compartment in the wristwatch sprang into view, displaying, much to Light's relief, the scrap of deadly paper he'd hidden in it.
Good. If nothing else, at least, he had an ace up his sleeve. If L, or whoever was wearing L's skin became a problem, he would handle it.
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
3:00 AM, Casualty Communal
It would be well worth it, in the end. L had never been more certain of anything. It was just a matter of convincing Light that it was so, and not that L was there to strangle him in his sleep... even if that prospect was more tempting than L would have liked to admit. More than anything, though, L was nervous. This Light was practically a stranger to him. In his reality, L had been dead for five years. He was a relic who was, at best, gone but not forgotten. At worst, Light had all but moved on, and his task was convincing him that he was still relevant... and then addressing the opportunities and challenges that faced them in Death City.
Being a member of the Watch had its advantages. Through simple camera surveillance review and a few peeks at housing records, L was able to ferret out Light's new address. Even if it was riskier than his mission with Takuto several days before, at 3:00 AM he was climbing into a taxi and directing the bleary-eyed driver to Casualty Communal.
Squinting up at the windows, L counted from the left. 3K would have been... there. And there was a fire escape, very conveniently located, by the bathroom window. Hiding his crutches in a patch of bushes, L clenched his teeth and started the short but excruciating climb. The window was narrow, but the detective was thin and flexible, and he was able to slip through relatively soundlessly. Even his somewhat graceless loss of balance was cushioned by the shower mat, which was fortunate; L didn't want Light to know he was there, not quite yet.
For the time being, it was enough just to see the man. L could confirm that his suspect and obsession was indeed back. It would only really seem real after he'd watched him sleep for a few hours. So he crept along the hall, eventually succumbing to a less painful crawl, making his way to the younger man's bedroom, slowly pushing open the door, and pulling himself silently onto Light's mattress.
[Action]
Long about midnight, though, the strain of his earlier frantic escapades had finally caught up with him, dragging him unwillingly into an exhausted sleep.
L would find him propped against the headboard of the bed in a graceless slouch, his head pillowed on one shoulder.
no subject
He gazed appraisingly at his nemesis. It was a good and much-needed time to grow reacquainted with the features time had altered. since Light and L had parted ways the last time he was in Death City. As one who knew him might expect, L had memorized every ridge and contour of Light's face,, and some were wholly unchanged... But others were new, in most cases older and stronger. From some angles, Light was starting to resemble his father.
Five years was a long time, but L reminded himself that Light had run away from him. Light would not be afraid if he no longer regarded L as a legitimate threat... and so, therefore, the detective was still relevant. The conclusion, as well as simply being there with someone he'd wanted back, was such a powerful relief that L could consider it on par with a dose of methadone. Only so much better, because the implications would last longer than that quick metaphorical fix.
Especially if BREW had brought him back as a Meister.
There was no way L couldn't try. The two of them were close, they thought so similarly and had shared so many games that they could finish each other's sentences while L was alive. Surely a small attempt to resonate wouldn't hurt. It might not even wake Light, but L could at least know before he left whether or not it would ultimately work. Transforming one arm, he closed a handcuff around the sleeping man's wrist with a soft snick, opening his mind to resonance as the rest of his body followed suit and became a length of chain draped across Light's mattress.
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Unknowingly, at the moment, Light had made himself a perfect candidate to receive L's attempt at it, his mind serene and helplessly open.
Light's expression twitched into a troubled look, eyes moving behind closed lids, as a presence first seemed to brush past, and then forcefully invade the innermost parts of him. Something that latched on, took hold, and made itself at home. In kind, it felt as if that something had, likewise, latched onto the intruder, devouring it, drawing expansive strength from it that spread throughout him.
It was a strange feeling of ascension...what Light had guessed finally becoming a god might feel like back home. When limitless power was within his reach and he had only to grasp for it.
...grasp....
Chocolate-colored eyes bolted open as his fingers wrapped around something cold and unyielding. He didn't need to look at it to know it was a chain...and tugging it revealed it to be attached to his wrist.
That bastard...he was here!
Immediately, he bolted upright.
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This,, however, was wholly different. For a few breathless moments, L was weightless, soaring, blissfully lost. It wasn't resonance, it couldn't be, it was too brilliant and too secure and too perfect. He had no sense of self during those several seconds; all he knew was that he was beyond everything that made him awkward and frail and perhaps too fixated on the past for his own good. He was strong like this, so strong, he could not believe how strong. It was more than resilience, it was, for lack of a better word...
Ascension. Was that his word, or had another mind given it to him just then?
It was a state he could live in forever, if he wasn't so certain that attempting to do so would tear his soul to pieces.
A sudden tug jolted him out of that flawless reverie, so suddenly that he transformed back instantly, his hand still closed around Light's wrist. Coming back from resonance with his enemy was jarring; L had forgotten himself, what it was like to be who he was, and furthermore, what it was like to breathe and carry a pulse. Everything flew back to him the moment it all ended, and it was simultaneously dismaying and like merciful deliverance. On one hand, L had lost his hold on enlightenment... But on the other hand, he had been ripped away from the beast's jaws.
But what a glorious struggle it had been.
He took a deep, shaky breath, maintaining his hold on Light. The last thing he wanted was another scurrying escape like the one that had transpired earlier that afternoon.
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....at least until his arm cocked back, aiming a punch at L's face that was driven both by impulse and outrage.
"Don't touch me...!" he demanded, attempting to wrench his wrist free of L's hold at the same time.
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