hearthebell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hearthebell) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2020-09-11 11:31 pm
hearthebell) wrote in middaeg2020-09-11 11:31 pm
Entry tags:
There is No Peace Here, War is Never Cheap, Dear [CLOSED]
Who: L and Niles
When: Aguril
Where: The Outpost
What: Things come to a head with L and Niles' ongoing feud with a rooftop fight.
Warnings: Blood, possible profanity, will update if needed
[Though it's been a few months since L's fingers were cut from his hands and his tongue functionally torn from his mouth, there is still a bone-deep itch that visits as regularly and fiercely as any natural drive. It wakes him at night like thirst or hunger, burns like lust, hurts like injury or illness, and the only way to drive it off is with the hit of what's built into an addiction.
Niles is alive; Niles hasn't paid for his crimes. L's taken the duty on himself, though his efforts through his scrying basin and occasionally ambushing Niles in person to steal an eyepatch are petty at best. He doesn't want to kill the chimera; doing so would amount to losing what's become a favorite toy and security blanket, but he also can't let him relax. The least he can do to repay him for all the time Niles spent stalking him is to keep him on his toes, terrify him with the occasional nightmarish illusion spell. Nothing is off the table, except, of course, for the one that Myr forbid him to use against Niles. L's kept his word on that, to his meager credit, but it's meant getting creative in other ways, cruel in better ways.
Stargazing on a rooftop in a remote and well-forested area, L's pinpointed Niles' location, and teleports silently behind him. A slender figure dressed in dark clothes, his silver fingers glint in the cold light.]
Tell me, without depth perception... is it even worth it to look at the night sky?
[Just like it's barely worth it to eat a cinnamon roll without being able to discern the butter from the spice, or to grasp at a lover's body with hands that function but don't feel. Niles has taken so much from the detective; surely, he can spare one more eyepatch to hold him over until the next time he feels the itch.]
When: Aguril
Where: The Outpost
What: Things come to a head with L and Niles' ongoing feud with a rooftop fight.
Warnings: Blood, possible profanity, will update if needed
[Though it's been a few months since L's fingers were cut from his hands and his tongue functionally torn from his mouth, there is still a bone-deep itch that visits as regularly and fiercely as any natural drive. It wakes him at night like thirst or hunger, burns like lust, hurts like injury or illness, and the only way to drive it off is with the hit of what's built into an addiction.
Niles is alive; Niles hasn't paid for his crimes. L's taken the duty on himself, though his efforts through his scrying basin and occasionally ambushing Niles in person to steal an eyepatch are petty at best. He doesn't want to kill the chimera; doing so would amount to losing what's become a favorite toy and security blanket, but he also can't let him relax. The least he can do to repay him for all the time Niles spent stalking him is to keep him on his toes, terrify him with the occasional nightmarish illusion spell. Nothing is off the table, except, of course, for the one that Myr forbid him to use against Niles. L's kept his word on that, to his meager credit, but it's meant getting creative in other ways, cruel in better ways.
Stargazing on a rooftop in a remote and well-forested area, L's pinpointed Niles' location, and teleports silently behind him. A slender figure dressed in dark clothes, his silver fingers glint in the cold light.]
Tell me, without depth perception... is it even worth it to look at the night sky?
[Just like it's barely worth it to eat a cinnamon roll without being able to discern the butter from the spice, or to grasp at a lover's body with hands that function but don't feel. Niles has taken so much from the detective; surely, he can spare one more eyepatch to hold him over until the next time he feels the itch.]