middaeg | I Am Embracing the Cold Rushing in Like Ice to a Diamond [OPEN, Catchall for June]

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I Am Embracing the Cold Rushing in Like Ice to a Diamond [OPEN, Catchall for June]

Who: L Lawliet and OPEN
When: Throughout June
Where: Various places;
What: Sans caretaker, an antisocial, world-renowned detective separated from all his resources searches for lodging, work, and purpose. All while continuing to practice magic.
Warnings: None right now; I'll update it if that changes!

A. More explosions make debris (Barracks)

[To say that there's been something of an adjustment period since L arrived here is an understatement, to say the least. Once, he had a handler who took care of everything he needed, from laundry to finding him things to eat to telling him when it was time to sleep. While it wasn't the kind of life that most adults were content leading, it had suited him just fine, allowing him to devote more energy to his one truly passionate pursuit: solving the world's most bizarre and complex cases.

One month in, and he's semi-adapted to his new environment, in the sense that he is surviving, but not exactly thriving. He's carved out a niche for himself in the barracks, where stacks of overdue library books stand in place of furniture or decor... but otherwise, one would be forgiven for believing that this particular building is unoccupied. There's no real sign that anyone has taken up residence here from the outside; restoration efforts haven't reached this section of the barracks yet, and the plants outside are overgrown, some of the windows drooping and dilapidated, the door hanging precariously from one hinge that only sort of works.

If you did make this very understandable mistake and you opt to enter, you might stumble upon the only room that's being actively used, and it's sort of a pathetic sight. A scrawny, dark-haired young man is seated in a curled position on the floor. His back is against the wall and his shaggy head is drooped over his bony knees, with clumps of candy wrappers and four open books around his bare feet. He is wearing the set of Coven robes he received on the first day here, and they appear, after a month, to be in desperate need of a good cleaning. Fast asleep in a clear state of exhaustion, he doesn't notice you... but if you stick around or make even the slightest noise, that's bound to change quickly.]

B. Catching it kind of suits you (Coven)

[L avoids going out in public nearly to the point of being agoraphobic. The pallor of his skin suggests that he's never even seen the Sun, and the shuffling, tentative way he moves is absurdly ill-suited to crowds of jostling strangers. But he makes exceptions for certain things, and must; his only other true option is to stagnate and slowly wither away to a brittle, frail collection of bones. The unfortunate realities of distrusting people while being rather more reliant on them than most grown humans are coming home to roost, in the sense that L's faltering a bit without Watari's constant, vigilant maintenance. Soon his health will begin to suffer, and as a Witch, it makes sense that the best way to be sustainably self-sufficient might be buckling down and learning how to heal his own injuries, restore his own energy if he's lacking sleep, and make food materialize out of thin air so he doesn't have to go out and purchase it.

After a month, he's found that it's not nearly so simple. Some branches of magic have been more promising than others; he seems to have a knack for Divination and Illusion, which probably shouldn't be surprising given his background as an investigator. But L tends not to be merely average at anything; his destiny is either extreme proficiency, or extreme disaster, and the latter seems to be the case with Abjuration and Transmutation. It seems that healing and mending things are what give him the most trouble, to the point where his attempts actually backfire and have the opposite effect.

What started as a minor abrasion on his left hand, that any extremely basic healing spell could make short work of, has spread to many abrasions all over his hand and wrist. His attempts to mend the Coven robe he is still wearing since receiving it on his first day are actually unraveling the threads holding it together. His frustration is real and powerful, but his expression doesn't betray it. Just maybe the occasional swift exhalation, or a murmured question about his future success before he consults tea leaves and sets aside the cup, disgusted with the answer he reads there with comparative ease.

Maybe these particular disciplines come easier to you and you have a heart. Or maybe you just want to laugh at him.]

C. Well it doesn't suit me (Runetchers)

[L is a fast reader, and a fast learner. When he's exhausted what he has to work with in a day at the Coven, advised not to overdo it before he has a bond with a monster who can help him cycle his magic, there are still many hours left in a day... and really, when money is a concern and not just managed in vast quantities to be thrown around when it's required, the necessity of it can't really be overlooked.

But when one has worked the same job since early childhood and needed no introduction at the top of his field, it's an issue. When one is off and peculiar in his interactions and socially irregular, it's an issue. When one secretly considers himself above most offerings, it's especially an issue, and so a month has passed with nothing catching L's interest and no currency changing hands. However, when Runetchers put out a call for steady hands and loading scrolls with spells, it's a prospect... and when they add that they are willing to teach on the job, L is sufficiently sold. At least for a little while, this will suffice, especially if he doesn't have to come in contact with chipper inquisitive customers or nitpicky coworkers.

Did you also take this quest? Or did you just drop in to check out the shop that smells like old parchment and cloves? Either way, the spindly, wide-eyed youth is watching you, pausing in his work so his dark, lacquered eyes can better follow you around the shop. If you move to get away from him, you might notice that he's even left his desk to keep closer tabs on you. ]

D. With the Sun setting low and the shadows unfurled (FULL MOON, around the city)

[It's been an especially long day. As L's magical practice deepens, so does the exhaustion that comes with trying to do it alone, and the ensuing snappishness and irritability... but today, in particular, it's been difficult to use magic at all. His attempts at spells are either weak or they fail entirely, and while he's wrung what he can out of him to get through work, he was dismissed early and told to get some rest when it became clear, quickly, that even his ability to draw pretty straight lines was suffering.

He's on his way home tonight. Maybe you're another witch who's similarly weakened, or a monster struggling with their changes. Either way, it's dark, and he's wearing dark clothing, and it's entirely likely that you just don't see the guy and walk right into him. Hopefully it's not claws-first, and with the way his eyes are narrowing, it would be great if you were in a better mood.]

E. Can you live with the way they make you look unreal? (WILDCARD)

[Don't see it? Want it? Have at it! If you want a quick and easy way to get ahold of me for plotting purposes, I am on plurk at

lexil.]

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If it's work you can do... and the payment for it fulfills a need, then it seems as though you've found a viable solution.

[Admirable, really, when it's all any of them can hope to do. Surviving in Geardagas has a whole set of new rules and requirements, and not all of them are cut out for it. The period of adaptation is ultimately one L will either find a way to come through as a trial by fire, or it will consume him; he's working toward the former, but it's such an uphill struggle.]

Maybe one day you'll find a Bond, and there won't be a need for them.

Sure, maybe. [ Admittedly, Caster wasn't even looking for a Bond. No effort put in, no effects gained. After for so long being an existence that depends on tethering self to someone, being independent if for a little while sounds like a new experience. Or he just wants it to make sense, rather than being a matter of convenience, take your pick. ] It's all about surviving, eh? If that's all, then I'm good at it.

[ Being generally physically fit and having little trouble with interactions in people he got an advantage, and fondness for danger opens another door for work opportunities... but surviving should lead to something. Surviving to fulfill a goal, a wish, an oath gives it sense and meaning. Without the direction though, just going day by day— ]

Even if it feels like drifting. [ A shrug. Now that's gotten kinda depressing, so time to change the focus away from him. ] How about you?

[While L understands fully the reasons to seek out a Bond, and is convinced that it's ultimately beneficial for most if not all witches and monsters, he is of a like mind when it comes to really preferring that it makes some amount of sense. It took him his entire life to find someone he really connected with, and in a stroke of cruel irony, that person was responsible for his ultimate downfall.]

When surviving becomes difficult enough, though... it's not enough to justify itself alone. At least, that's how I feel.

[Because what's the point, if you're just struggling to cling to existence by the skin of your teeth? There's no time at that point for a higher call or purpose, the things that make being human really worthwhile.

He shakes his head, a dull look in the dark voids that are his eyes.]

I don't really know that they're for a certain type of person. We'll see; I suspect I'll know if a promising opportunity presents itself.

[ Another hum, as Caster ponders the words and meaning behind them ]

I get what you mean— but not sure if I agree entirely. From how I see it, if it's impossible to live a good life, then at least the aim should be a good death. [ He doesn't mind or fear dying — been there, done that, got a t-shirt. But going out because of failure to adapt to the new circumstances, that's not his style. It feels dangerously like giving-up.

He lets a small chuckle as he starts poking at the food. What a grand topic they have chosen to lunch-chat, but sometimes you just have to discuss matters like this. In an attempt to lighten the mood he says ]

But what about returning; you got somewhere to get back to, right? I imagine just that is good motivator to survive for the majority of us struggling here.

You think there's such a thing as a good death? That's interesting to me.

[He leaves it vague, whether he feels that there might be... at least, until Caster attempts to lighten the mood by turning the conversation toward what L is going back to. What a spectacular backfire.

L is careful as he answers.]

It's... interesting to me, as someone who is either dead, or will be very soon, where I came from.

[ Caster cocks his eyebrow and tilts his head, intrigued. Well yes, that is "kind of" a backfire, but it shows light to a very interesting thing. His answer is quiet ]

Doesn't sound like a good moment to return to— [ If he's bleeding to death somewhere, with no help coming he is as good as dead. ] A good death is one when you can go with little to no regrets, or one that accomplishes something... sometimes a price for a life is another's. There's always some unfinished business, can't escape that.

[ In this world's content, he'd see an exploding into Cwyld den as a good death. ]

For the record, can't say mine was all of that. [ It was a trap, he was trapped triple, and he took a friend with him to his death. But they put a good fight, they never gave up. Died standing. ]

[L's somber, tight-lipped. That goes for a lot of things in general, but his death, especially, is something he wants to maintain the vagueness of. Perhaps for his own sake, as much as anyone else's, because it is an existential minefield. He can get more done if he closes himself away from it, doesn't dwell on the events that led up to it and how it might have been avoided. The most difficult part of that, even if it does not betray things about his identity to parties who potentially could figure it out, is the fact that he doesn't believe it was avoidable.

He simply shakes his head in mute agreement. A terrible moment to return to, yes. Certainly.

And then there's a chance to shift the focus onto Caster, so he latches onto it, takes it for all it's worth.]

You remember your death, then?

[ That— that was an evasive maneuver. A quickest verbal dodge, strategic move more suited for battle than conversation but Caster can take a guess what it means. This is a recent turn of events, as L(inden) it's something he will return to.

Caster can put his curiosity aside, it would be cruel to press right now. It needs proper time, maybe never. Alas. If the change of focus might help, he can provide ]

I do, although it was so long ago it doesn't matter much. [ In his attempt of having a helpful conversation, from an experienced dead to the newly deceased he accidentally revealed weird fact about being aware of the passage of time ] And all was because of something that could be considered a mistake I made earlier. Hindsight.

[ Vague shrugs ]

[As it happens, cruelty is something L is used to. When one lives his life on the knife's edge, always looking for the next thrill and the next challenge, people who associate with him tend not to pull their punches.

Still, he's not grown so far beyond humanity that he's forgotten what kindness looks like. Not entirely.]

How long ago was it? You make it sound like you remember things between when it happened and the advent of your arrival, here.

[ Once again Caster can only admire how sharp mind this man posses. No wonder he grows weary of the repeated actions required for this job. There is respect hidden beneath the smile and playful words ]

Hah, you caught up on that. [ He was never good with secrecy, but riddles? That's something else, he'd rather be that, than a secret. ] In a sense you're right.

It's been— give or take two thousand years. Don't know the exact date, we didn't care much for what Romans were doing and it's their calendar that stuck. [ They were on the continent, or on the other island, and even if, on theirs, it's the southern kingdoms that would have to deal with them ]

It was difficult to miss.

[L is many things. Modest isn't really one of them, and when he tries to be, it wears poorly on him and does not seem sincere in the least. He's aware of this.]

Were you brought back to life two thousand years after the fact, with only a calendar for reference?

[ Confidence and pride, who needs modesty. Not Celts, so Caster certainly takes that boast in stride. Some people fight with their arms, others with their minds. ]

Not to life exactly per se— I didn't become truly living being until this place. But, you're correct. Last time it was the year 2004 on the islands known as Japan. [ There were others too, across the ages, moments of brief existence. ] Does that sound familiar?

[ He's trying to gauge a bit too. It's hard to tell if L's caught the Roman reference, so he's going to just throw another name. People came here from different worlds, after all ]

Yes. It does sound familiar, actually.

[To the point where it's actually a little eerie, though L doubts they are from the same world. No, he was also in Japan in 2004. That's where and when he lost his life, as a matter of fact.]

What isn't "truly living," if it isn't "truly dead?"

I meant it as— getting a body. Breathing, eating, sleeping being necessary, all this shit. [ Including taking a shit, thanks Gaerdegas, alas ] My existence in that year was closer to what you'd call a ghost, even if I could take on physical form occasionally.

[ But he's more interested in confirming the place. ]

So, you're from "Earth" too?

[L is careful as he answers; in truth, he's careful in most things. He values precision as well as safety and guarantees, and while he can't seem too determined to keep his entire life shrouded in mystery, he also has to keep in mind that at some point, others from his world might show up who can use even the slightest shred of information against him, and would, if they ever even suspected that he was the man who solved a thousand cases.]

I'm from a version of Earth. There are many, which... shouldn't surprise anyone familiar with theories of parallel universes, or alternate timelines, I suppose. But there isn't proof of it where I'm from. It's all academic conjecture at best. Discovering that it seems to be true has been both exciting and existentially horrifying.

[His expression is probably altogether too mild for his choice of words.]

Edited 2019-08-29 20:32 (UTC)

｢ooc: I figured this thread has been going for so long we can as well wrap it up soon. Maybe have the manager tell them to stop chatting and get back to work fff. Looking forward for starting something new (after the Dorchacha trip is over) ｣

[ What a good poker face he keeps. Those men of pure logic, it's not easy to tell when their words match their feelings and the other way. ]

That's still Earth. You've heard of Ulster, did you. [ That is not even framed as a question. He is absolutely certain that kingdom of Ulster - well now, province of Ulster, part of Ireland - exists. And with his story being tied to it, he can't imagine it being apart. It's pride, arrogance even, but such is hound of Cullan once called a shield of Ulster ] If I existed in your version of Earth, nothing stops you from existing in mine. Though the path you took could be different.

[ And here is a small playful jab incoming. For Caster is prideful, but he can recognize someone confident in their own skills in a similar way ]

Or are you saying you're so forgettable you'd exist only in one?

[ooc: sounds good! Totally psyched for new stuff.]

[No light of recognition ignites in L's dark eyes; he seems to be wondering whether it's a place, or a name for a theory of alternate and multiple dimensions, perhaps.

He's about to answer, when his manager touches his shoulder. Perhaps due to his idiosyncrasies, or because the overall quality of his work is so high that it's excusable, the owners of the store often treat L a little more gently. When a grown man forgets to eat and sleep, it doesn't matter how intelligent he is; he will be seen and treated as more of a child by a certain type of person.]

I... suppose we should pick this up again later. Maybe not at work.

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I Am Embracing the Cold Rushing in Like Ice to a Diamond [OPEN, Catchall for June]

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So sorry about how late this is

no worries

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it's been 84 years

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