"RYUUZAKI" (L - Death Note) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ryuuzaki) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_rpg2012-03-17 12:14 am
ryuuzaki) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-03-17 12:14 am
Entry tags:
01. nightmares | action/phone
[BEDROOM: Action for Shirley]
[An invisible boulder is crushing L's chest. The pain is more intense than anything he's imagined, radiating in every direction, making the world contract to the range of his dimming vision. He should be aching from falling out of the chair and hitting the floor, he should be covered in bruises, but the heart attack--it is a heart attack, it must be--completely eclipses it.
Losing consciousness would be a relief, a chance to be oblivious to his suffering until the worst of it passes. He knows that he's dying, though, so he fights for every breath, for the last moments he'll ever have. He's frightened, and helpless, and cold.
Light Yagami looms over him, lips stretched in a deranged grin--awful--and L feels an exhausted sense of satisfaction, an understanding that he's seeing Light's true face for the first time. Everyone else in the room is oblivious to it, looking in the wrong places... he no longer has enough time or strength to be frustrated by their blindness. They'll think the shinigami has done this on its own, and Light will pick them off, too, when he can, when it's convenient... an aspect of their situation that they've never seemed to fully understand. Weeks will pass before someone else takes up the case, and Watari has just deleted all of the data. Light will have plenty of time.
The world is shrinking to a pinpoint and a few lights that are too bright; they hurt L's eyes, which flutter shut if he doesn't make the effort to push them open. He's so tired. He tries to make his mouth work, to say something that the others can hear, but he can't even voice a sigh.
How stupid to try to keep his eyes open; he'll die whether they're closed or not. It's better to resign himself. By letting them close, he can have a few second of relative comfort before the end. The pain is separate from him now. Someone else will catch Yagami; it will be in motion soon; L will win, by proxy, in the end. I wasn't wrong, he thinks, but I....
The world is gone, everything is gone, nothing is left but darkness.
He wakes with a start and a sharp intake of air. Then he feels the mattress against his hips, the edge of the pillow touching the tops of his shoulders. With a relieved sigh, he lets his head drop to rest on the pillow.
While he's had any number of similar nightmares in the past few months, this one was more realistic, more linear, and more terrifying than most. His heart is racing like that of any other frightened animal, but that's normal after a bad dream. There's no sign of the pain or pressure that were both so visceral only a few minutes earlier. Even as his breathing slows, he continues to inhale deeply, as if to compensate for the way he hadn't been able to take in any air at all before he woke up.
His eyes adjust to the darkness in the room, and as details begin to emerge, he realizes he's not in his own bedroom... and that someone is in the bed with him. He hears soft breathing and catches a hint of a fruity scent that he can't place. Before he has a chance to examine his surprise companion any more closely, that person stirs.
There are two options: pin them down and demand answers, or get across the room and possibly out of it as quickly as he can. The first idea seems like it could be asking for trouble, and the second seems unnecessary: if they were a danger to him, why would they be asleep in bed next to him? It would have made more sense to hurt him before he woke up, and the fruity scent... it's like a young woman's soap or shampoo, like something he's smelled on Amane before.
He's too curious to leave. The third option, he supposes, is to watch and wait.]
[LIVING ROOM: Action for Misaka]
[Meet your new "parents": a pale, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties, and a red-haired woman so young that it might be more appropriate to call her a girl. They stand in the living room in the nightclothes they woke up in: white pajamas with blue stripes for him, a short, filmy nightie for her, with a sheet wrapped over the top of it for decency. The expression on the man's face as he looks around is a combination of bewilderment, frustration, and intense annoyance. He picks up an old-fashioned photograph of himself with the woman and two children he's never seen, peers at it, then hands it to her without a word. The woman stares at it, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, her brow furrowing deeply, and her hands flexing just a little as she clutches the frame a little more tightly.
These new additions to your household haven't made a lot of noise, but maybe it's been enough to attract your attention. You're in the picture too, after all.]
[PHONE w/ all appropriate filters: The next day]
[The man's voice is soft and low.]
It's my understanding that there are some of you who would be willing to help a new arrival as much as you can.
If that's the case, I'm curious: what were you doing before you came here?
[An invisible boulder is crushing L's chest. The pain is more intense than anything he's imagined, radiating in every direction, making the world contract to the range of his dimming vision. He should be aching from falling out of the chair and hitting the floor, he should be covered in bruises, but the heart attack--it is a heart attack, it must be--completely eclipses it.
Losing consciousness would be a relief, a chance to be oblivious to his suffering until the worst of it passes. He knows that he's dying, though, so he fights for every breath, for the last moments he'll ever have. He's frightened, and helpless, and cold.
Light Yagami looms over him, lips stretched in a deranged grin--awful--and L feels an exhausted sense of satisfaction, an understanding that he's seeing Light's true face for the first time. Everyone else in the room is oblivious to it, looking in the wrong places... he no longer has enough time or strength to be frustrated by their blindness. They'll think the shinigami has done this on its own, and Light will pick them off, too, when he can, when it's convenient... an aspect of their situation that they've never seemed to fully understand. Weeks will pass before someone else takes up the case, and Watari has just deleted all of the data. Light will have plenty of time.
The world is shrinking to a pinpoint and a few lights that are too bright; they hurt L's eyes, which flutter shut if he doesn't make the effort to push them open. He's so tired. He tries to make his mouth work, to say something that the others can hear, but he can't even voice a sigh.
How stupid to try to keep his eyes open; he'll die whether they're closed or not. It's better to resign himself. By letting them close, he can have a few second of relative comfort before the end. The pain is separate from him now. Someone else will catch Yagami; it will be in motion soon; L will win, by proxy, in the end. I wasn't wrong, he thinks, but I....
The world is gone, everything is gone, nothing is left but darkness.
He wakes with a start and a sharp intake of air. Then he feels the mattress against his hips, the edge of the pillow touching the tops of his shoulders. With a relieved sigh, he lets his head drop to rest on the pillow.
While he's had any number of similar nightmares in the past few months, this one was more realistic, more linear, and more terrifying than most. His heart is racing like that of any other frightened animal, but that's normal after a bad dream. There's no sign of the pain or pressure that were both so visceral only a few minutes earlier. Even as his breathing slows, he continues to inhale deeply, as if to compensate for the way he hadn't been able to take in any air at all before he woke up.
His eyes adjust to the darkness in the room, and as details begin to emerge, he realizes he's not in his own bedroom... and that someone is in the bed with him. He hears soft breathing and catches a hint of a fruity scent that he can't place. Before he has a chance to examine his surprise companion any more closely, that person stirs.
There are two options: pin them down and demand answers, or get across the room and possibly out of it as quickly as he can. The first idea seems like it could be asking for trouble, and the second seems unnecessary: if they were a danger to him, why would they be asleep in bed next to him? It would have made more sense to hurt him before he woke up, and the fruity scent... it's like a young woman's soap or shampoo, like something he's smelled on Amane before.
He's too curious to leave. The third option, he supposes, is to watch and wait.]
[LIVING ROOM: Action for Misaka]
[Meet your new "parents": a pale, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties, and a red-haired woman so young that it might be more appropriate to call her a girl. They stand in the living room in the nightclothes they woke up in: white pajamas with blue stripes for him, a short, filmy nightie for her, with a sheet wrapped over the top of it for decency. The expression on the man's face as he looks around is a combination of bewilderment, frustration, and intense annoyance. He picks up an old-fashioned photograph of himself with the woman and two children he's never seen, peers at it, then hands it to her without a word. The woman stares at it, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, her brow furrowing deeply, and her hands flexing just a little as she clutches the frame a little more tightly.
These new additions to your household haven't made a lot of noise, but maybe it's been enough to attract your attention. You're in the picture too, after all.]
[PHONE w/ all appropriate filters: The next day]
[The man's voice is soft and low.]
It's my understanding that there are some of you who would be willing to help a new arrival as much as you can.
If that's the case, I'm curious: what were you doing before you came here?
no subject
He's seen people die at all ages... still, eighteen seemed very young for a pretty girl to die. If the dreams were true, what might have brought her to the point of being shot?
He considers how much to tell her. If she were part of an abduction... a possibility that he has to keep in mind no matter how remote it's beginning to seem... she would probably already know at least a little bit about him. If not... what would be safe to give her? He settles on some generalities. His age isn't important; there's nothing about it that would lead someone to further information about him that isn't a dead end. Where he's from is a more complicated question, but there's a general answer he can give that's reflected in his voice to some extent when he speaks his first language.]
I'm twenty-five. English. You're American?
no subject
For second she wonders if maybe he's not all there, which is strange because he seemed pretty calm and educated before this. It's such a strange question, though, that it takes Shirley a while to find her voice.]
I'm...I'm Britannian. But I live in Area Eleven right now. What do you mean, you're English? Nobody's been "English" since the 1700s!
no subject
As much as he turns it over in his mind, Shirley's reply doesn't make any real sense.
She's heard of England... or English people, at least... but claims it's an archaic designation. She mentions Area Eleven as if it's something he would have heard of. He supposes that a Britannian must come from Britannia, but how that ties to Great Britain, if at all, he isn't sure. If he had to make a judgment based on their conversation to this point, he would say that he thought she was sane, but none of what she's saying now bears much resemblance to his considerable experience of the world. Then, there's the question of how her dream, and the likelihood that it wasn't a dream at all, ties into the situation.]
The terms Britannian and Area Eleven are meaningless to me. Will you tell me about why England is no longer relevant to you? That is, what kind of history...?
[He trails off, expecting to have to explain more if she doesn't understand where he's going with the question.]
no subject
[She sounds weirded out by the question, which she is. But she complies regardless.]
I don't know anyone who wouldn't know about the Holy Britannian Empire, though. They're one of the three most powerful nations in the world. The capital is Pendragon, in what used to be called America. [She feels like that must be related to why he thought she was America. Somehow. She simply isn't sure how yet.] But I live in Area Eleven. Area Eleven used to be Japan, but it's controlled by the Britannian Empire now, so it has a number like all the rest of the Britannian colonies do.
England was conquered by Napoleon Bonaparte became a part of the European Union in... in, um... [Think, Shirley, think. You know this one!] in 1761, a.t.b.!
[If this is all going to be gibberish to him, she has no awareness of it. To her, it all makes perfect sense.]