First Week of January Catchall

[hearthebell]

Who: L Lawliet (Linden Tailor) and YOU
When: First week of Ieneur
Where: Various places
What: Catchall, for old and new CR
Warnings: None to speak of yet, will update if that changes




I. The Orphanage

[Even thrill-chasers can be happier when their lives settle into some kind of routine. For a time, that was true for L, and it’s served as an anchor for him through the festivities of Modranicht when so many are with their loved ones exchanging thoughtfully selected gifts and homemade food. Now that the orphanage has achieved some kind of substantial funding, it’s the first time many of the children have experienced any level of wonder associated with the season, and the staff all did their part to contribute to it, keeping fairly busy.

Regarding the staff, of course, there’s always been a vague sense that L doesn’t fit in. The children appreciate that he’s not like all the other adults and has a different and creative way of thinking about things, of course. His colleagues appreciate that about him, too, but there’s also the sense that they think of him, at times, almost as one of the children. It comes out in small ways; surprise when he shows interest in volunteering or partaking in something, awkward fumbling to explain when he overhears that there are after-work plans excluding him.

Hands not being broken, he would have been able to help wrap Modranicht gifts if he’d been told they were all collaborating to do it. While it’s likely he would decline, he notices never being invited to join the staff for drinks biweekly. While he runs his classes with relative freedom to cover the subject matter and approach it as he sees fit, he often finds out about schedule or policy changes right along with the kids, instead of at the meetings committed to deciding those changes. It’s confirmation of something he’s always actually known, that he lacks charisma and social skills and general likability, but the more involved in the micro-community of the orphanage he gets, the reminder gets a little heavier each day.

Having never needed to try, before, there was no shame in failing. Now that he’s trying, and failing, he’s stopped looking forward to work, and started looking forward to when he can go home, or any number of places along the way.

Maybe you’re here dropping off a donation. Maybe you’re volunteering your time, or you’re actually employed here, like “Linden.” Either way, the lanky, pale man with a mop of shaggy hair treats you a bit warily, whether or not you’ve met before.]

Did you need something?

[Brusque. Not quite hostile, but the day is almost over. His reserves are almost spent, and it’s difficult to be pleasant on empty.]

II. The Entertainment District

[L cuts through this district every day after work. Essentially at the city’s center, it makes for a fairly straight cut to the Haven, and sometimes he goes straight home. Sometimes, he strays a bit, looking for a performer doing something impressive and difficult that requires a steady hand and years of practice, or failing that, a quiet and discreet drink in a dark bar to take the edge off a difficult day.

Never enough to truly dull it, of course. Never enough to hint to the Bonded he’s connected to that he actually needs it, and besides, a shot of cheap liquor on an empty stomach goes a long way, for the money and the burn.

Maybe you’re a performer, or watching one right along with him. Maybe you’re also enjoying a discreet drink in a dive bar on your way home. Maybe you’ve caught him in between points and you work in this district and you’re selling a good or service you hope to ply him with. Either way, there’s a hollow-eyed witch who seems like any diversion is worth changing the tone of his life, at least for a little while.]

Tell me...

[It’s the question at the front of his mind, for the performer or the audience, the incidental companion drinker or the bartender, and the seller of your ware or service, all the same.]

Are you exactly where you intended to go, at present, or creating an extra step to avoid getting there sooner than you must?

III. The Coven

[Sometimes, early before work or on the weekends, L puts in extra time studying at the Coven. He likes the academic setting, the quiet corners, the hundreds of books he can burn through with his fast and ferocious wit.

Myr’s Modranicht gift was thoughtful, kind, and useful. L’s foregone his hodgepodge of other tools for the new set, matching and elegant and tailored to his specific technique for casting magic that leans heavily on etching and engraving runes. He doesn’t fail to notice that the blade in the kit is wrapped in golden ribbon, sealed at the ends with beeswax as if to gently discourage him from using it to bite into his own convenient store of witch’s blood. He doesn’t unravel it today, for at least the reason that his skipped meals and over-caffeinated state of hyperfocus don’t lend well to even small amounts of blood loss, though there’s probably more to it. There usually is, where Myr is concerned; as a rule, L actively tries to avoid displeasing or disappointing Myr, however certain he is that he will fail. There comes a point, after all, when one has reached the limit of what he can give, or do, or become. Efforts come to yield smaller returns, until there’s a plateau, or even a decline.

He sits in one one of the classes for advanced illusion, breaking in his new tools, taking heart at least in the fact that he can rely on his penchant for acquiring and applying knowledge. He hasn’t peaked, or plateaued, or declined in this regard; there’s more he can show Light, and neither of them will grow bored. The pair of illusory cockroaches on the table in front of him, maneuvering in intricate and perfect tandem, really do seem limited only by what his mind can do, and in truth, that’s the set of limitations that he prefers, even if he detests roaches.

If you’re in class together, he’ll notice if you’re struggling, and offer to help you get the hang of it. Having flawed technique and having to settle for mediocrity is unbearable; he knows that better than anyone.]

[IV. Dream (for Bonded knowledge and/or interaction)]


This particular dream started when Light arrived. Since then, it’s grown more frequent and vivid, to the point where even on nights L doesn’t clearly remember his dreams, he’s nearly positive that he had the same one, again, old paths doggedly retraced.

A brilliant, warm sun has melted the snow and brought an entire ecosystem’s cacophony with it, cycles of life and death mingling hidden in the bordering forest’s dense branches. There are distant suggestions of cracking eggshells, rattling serpents and rodent shrieks alike; predator and prey engaged in an endless and entrancing dance.

Not that L has the time to listen, or investigate, or muse, or even notice if one of his Bonded has ended up here with him. He’s too busy kneeling at the edge of the lake, which seems to have gotten both larger and murkier. He’s attempting, always, to repair the shrinking ice floats and re-glaze the surface of a lake where dead fish float to the surface, unable to adapt to water that just isn’t as cold and clean as it used to be. The ice almost seems to melt faster than he can create it, though, or at least just fast enough that his efforts are largely in vain in spite of the tremendous and exhausting strain. His rests are infrequent but desperately needed, and sorely bought; the Leviathan hasn’t gone anywhere, won’t die seemingly out of spite, and finds this whole process very agitating. Its scaly ridges suggesting only a sliver of its total mass surface periodically, and sometimes L has to move quickly to avoid whatever bit of ground he’s standing on crumbling out from under him as a result of the beast’s jaws or thrashing. As it chips away at the grass and soil surrounding the lake, the amount of ground remaining to stand on diminishes, pushing anyone who doesn’t want to end up in the water back toward the dense and deafening forest.

It’s small wonder, really, that he wakes up these days feeling as though he hasn’t slept at all, putting on a pot of coffee for the strongest possible start.]

[V. Wildcard]

[Don’t see it? Want it? Have at it! Throw a prompt my way or hit me up on discord at ladylazarus#2235 to plot something out with me.]

Comments

ii

[piromare]

( he is here for the drinks. quality doesn't mean anything to him, it didn't mean anything before--- no one could grab anything of worth when they had little money to spend and little time to dawdle about perusing goods. and this is why lio doesn't mind the uncomfortable burn that follows a quick sip, his wings twitching as he places the glass down on the bar with a soft huff.

the harpy really shouldn't be drinking. he's already discovered he's a little bit of a lightweight, but he should be okay. it shouldn't take him too long to fly home from here. )

No. ( a beat, and then a shrug. ) More like an extra flap, but... no. Why?

[hearthebell]

[The pale, spindly witch has a way of staring that puts most people off. He doesn't blink once as he regards the harpy; he's never met this monster. Maybe that actually makes it easier to ask the strangely forward question he does. Maybe anonymity always makes it easier; the ability to be anyone for a little while is emboldening, after all.]

Oh, it's just...

[Wide, dark eyes glance toward the ceiling, the exposed rafters, the cobwebs in the corners, as if searching for a suitable way to follow up on that question.]

...what are you having? I'll buy you another one.

[It's not drinking alone, then, after all.]

[piromare]

( there's the faintest smile on his face as he observes L, and it doesn't leave after the innocuous response. is he nervous? did he expect lio to answer in such a way, with a question of his own? by no means did he want to put the other man on the spot, but...

well! he can't refuse a free drink. )

I don't know. I asked for something that wouldn't kill me. So I'd ask for another one of those.

( it only hurt a little. )

Do you do this often? Buy drinks for strangers, I mean.

[hearthebell]

[Given L's own uneasy relationship with drinking, the use of alcohol to dull what's sharp or emotionally unpalatable, maybe he has a sense for someone who isn't likely to refuse, perhaps has good reasons for not refusing. He'll never judge, just wonder, and puzzle, and ruminate.]

Two of those.

[The bartender glances their way, gaze lingering a little long before pouring out the request.]

In general, I prefer solitude, but my understanding is that bars exist so that individuals can drink socially, or drink alone together. And under the same roof, it all amounts to the same thing. Still...

[The bartender sets the shots down. L's spindly fingers, each bearing a faint scar around the base as though they were sliced off and then reattached, reaches for one of them.]

For some reason, one is frowned upon. I support defiant rebranding, though.

[piromare]

( a soft 'tch' as he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. funny; the idea of drinking alone together is something that he would've done a few times in the past. sitting with others, yet not really saying anything, keeping everything to themselves. almost like a game of chicken that no one wants to play, despite acknowledging their company. loneliness on many levels.

but as he's about to respond, his eyes immediately lock onto those scars. faint. barely noticeable, but a harpy's vision is clearer than most others. how he interrupts himself with another soft noise before starting to nurse that other shot, this time taking it easy, despite how odd it looks for someone to sip what's contained in the short glass. )

I support... defiance.

( even as he looks up to meet L's eyes again, they're back down to his fingers just for a moment, before he closes them in thought. )

wildcard; morning after the dream

[worldcleansing]

[ Bonds give a very unique insight. Before, Light was singular in his ability to understand L and while that expands to a few other people in a new way, a new avenue has also opened up for them. It feels a bit easier, almost a cheat, like looking behind a curtain. Light is both thankful and frustrated that L's capable of controlling himself to the degree that there's some mystery there.

The dream is a bit easier to see through.

It's early, but Light comes out a bit later than usual since he doesn't have the toy store to open up. That doesn't mean he won't have a busy day.

As usual, he's dressed, his clothing fitted and hair done. Before getting to work on his project, Light will also need to go to classes, even if his magic has come along quickly. Before even speaking, his astute eyes take in the coffee and L's tired appearance. More so than is natural for him. ]

Morning.

[ As if it's the most natural thing in the world, he slides in next to the man in order to look for food preparation. Breakfast is important. ]

Late night?

[hearthebell]

[There are hollow grooves carved under L's red-rimmed eyes, deep and dark, as he staggers through the motions of putting the coffee on. His finicky grip doesn't work for all aspects of it, and he stumbles through roasting the beans on the stovetop (scorching them in his haste) and using both hands to haul the frying pan to the grinder.

He mumbles an indistinct answer to Light's greeting. He really needs to be caffeinated before he's firing on all cylinders, able to engage with his typical fierce focus.]

Something like that.

[Late nights typically don't deplete him this way. It takes the exhausting dreams, of course, but also the long and frustrating days, the nip of gin or occasional laudanum to actually slow his mind down to the point where he can sleep at all. Watari always had something for it; Watari had it down to a science, but Watari isn't here.

He angles himself to give Light a little more space at the stove, beans crunching as he turns the grinder's crank.]

Just so you're aware, the milk is gone.

[He gestures vaguely over his shoulder toward the icebox, where there is in fact an empty glass bottle of milk inside.]

[worldcleansing]

[ A bit concerned that L might end up having an accident as he works, Light hesitates and keeps a bit of distance. It's odd, seeing the man like this. ]

I'll grab some more today.

[ It's no good to depend on Myr for all of their groceries, and Light will be out anyway.

Something worries L. The dream is a symptom, not the disease. As far as Light is aware, Niles isn't an issue. He's bonded to two monsters in addition to a witch so his magic is sufficiently checked. Try as he may, Light can't quite pinpoint where the problem may be. That's when direct questions are asked but right now, Light knows it's better to give L time to adjust to being alive. ]

I'm making an omelet for breakfast. A second won't be hard to make, and you seem like you need all of the energy I can offer. Will you eat it?

[ He even knows it'll need to be made without meat. Still, it won't be an especially sweet meal. ]

[hearthebell]

[It looks like it takes the sticks L has for arms a little more effort to turn the crank, but fortunately, he's coordinated enough not to put his hand in it. In fact, since a certain incident, he's very cautious of keeping track of where his faintly scarred fingers wind up.

Light can buy the milk; he accepts this. L gets paid now to teach at the orphanage, but it's still a pittance compared to what he made before at Runetchers, let alone back home as the world's greatest superdetective. What money he makes goes quickly, and what he sets aside for food often vanishes in his misguided efforts to send Near meat, or else quietly self-medicate with the cheapest possible options out of view of prying eyes.

He glances sidelong at Light, considering the offer for an omelet before slowly nodding. Some mornings, he has his heart set on a sweet roll, and nothing will do until he has one even if it takes hours. Others, especially lately, the flesh will have its way, compelling him to adjust his typical standards rather than carve out more sharp bones.]

[worldcleansing]

[ They can work in silence for a bit, one with more skill than the other. Having slept better and gained confidence in the kitchen, Light's movements are quick and sure. As L makes his coffee in hopes of using liquid rest to substitute for the real thing, Light chops vegetables to add to the egg mixture. Though also employed, his job doesn't pay particularly well either, even when supplemented with odd jobs, so none of it is particularly extravagant. It's a well made but financially-practice meal.

Talking to L right now won't get him anywhere. Once the man has coffee and is a little more present in the world, Light has a lot to say to him. For now, he can try and set the trappings for the subject. ]

You're working at the orphanage today, right? What time do you think you'll be home?

I

[twilightskey]

[The orphanage is something that's become important to Roxas, which is something of a surprise. When Sora had convinced him to volunteer alongside him, Roxas didn't expect to like it enough to actually seek employment here. Turns out there were a lot of kids here who just needed guidance and someone to look after them, and it resonated with Roxas in a way that he hadn't expected. Maybe this was what Axel felt like when the redhead had taken himself and Xion under his wing when he'd first joined the Organization.]

[He's not exactly a social butterfly himself, being more on the introverted side, but he is aware of the other employees who work there even though he hasn't met all of them. So while he'd seen the man with wild black hair and a prominent slouch, he hadn't really had an opportunity to speak to him. So when Roxas walked into one of the rooms looking for bandages (one of the Manticore children had bitten him again, and those kids have sharp teeth), he was quite surprised to be bluntly asked his business. His turnskin ears perk up in surprise, and he rubs the back of his head with one hand while keeping his injured hand close to his chest.]

Uh, sorry... do you know where they moved the first aid kits to?

[hearthebell]

[L has seen the young man around, which isn't to say that they've spoken. L is spiny and antisocial on the best of days, better suited to quiet rooms and hours of devoted and fixated study than he is to social engagement. Quite a lot of the alienation he feels within the community that exists here really is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Some of it is absolutely his fault; conversely, some of it is bleakly beyond his ability to control.

He's by a coffee station, grimly taking it tepid and black. He's drinking it purely for the fuel, not sipping it for the taste, and that's probably making his mood more bitter. It's not Roxas' fault; as stormy and self-involved as L can get, he realizes that on an intellectual level.]

...is someone injured?

[The first, and most important question, then the cursory examination. It doesn't take a seasoned detective to notice that the injury is Roxas' in short order.]

Right. There should be...

[He swings open the cupboard, pulling down a small box, opening it and finding exactly zero bandages. They go fast, truly, with so many boisterous and active kids around.]

You didn't go to the nurse's office, first. Is it because she dislikes you, as well?

[It might be their eventual stop, but there are some places they can check along the way.]

[twilightskey]

Ah, yeah. The manticore kids have pretty sharp teeth.

[He says it with a bit of a sheepish voice, his ears angling to the sides a little. But that question makes his brows furrow.]

Huh? No, I don't think she dislikes me... I just figured a small bite like this wasn't something to bother her with.

[Well... small is relative, especially since it looks like a sizeable bite. But he's had worse injuries, really.]

[hearthebell]

[L cants his head. It's true; the chimeras resembling manticores are fierce at times, and well-equipped to be. L's escaped bites, but it's in large part because his role as a teacher allows him a little more distance.

He gestures, cyclically and awkwardly, silently asking Roxas to step closer so he can get a better look at the injury.]

If I had any talent for healing, I'd offer... but believe me when I say you're better off if I don't try. We could find Chack...

[He pauses, then quickly clarifies.]

He's a young witch who isn't much of an academic, but is keen on a future caring for animals. He'd probably appreciate the practice.

[twilightskey]

[He approaches when L beckons him closer, and he carefully offers his hand out for the other to inspect the wound.]

Chack?

[That's not someone he's met, but he nods slowly.]

If you think it'll help... I don't want to be too much of a bother; I've had injuries worse than this, so just some bandages can work if we can't find any magic to heal it with.

iv, because i'm always here for dreams

[faithlikeaseed]

[There is naught like the wilderness for Fauns, and naught like dreams for a Thedosian mage. Disquieting and discomfiting as L's nightmare may be, Myr is nevertheless in his element within it. Pacing through the riotous jungle awakens his sense of the sacred--its boughs cathedral arches, its cacophony another Chant in a thousand voices. It is lovely; it is also a fundamental change in his Witch's dreamscape, and change...always comes hard to L, harder than it does to most.

That realization is a blot of tarnish on the Faun's appreciation of the scene.

He has the good fortune (or is it something else, something more controlled than coincidental, legacy of a habit of control within the Fade) to shoulder his way to the forest's edge in a moment the Leviathan is quiescent. Branches bend across the broad shoulders of his deer-shape and vines catch in his antlers, leaving them flower-studded as he breaks free of them for L's side. He does not immediately say anything, only descends to the water's edge and stares into it at the beast he's so-often glimpsed only through yards of water or ice.]

What is it, amatus? [It's the question he's never asked. It's a question that's inappropriate to this time and place and moment of soul-snapping tension, and it is nevertheless a question that could only be asked in context.

Though Myr is not unwary in the asking--not from the tense set of his shoulders, nor the way the fur ripples up across them and his neck in silent challenge to the lurking predator.]

<3

[hearthebell]

[The Leviathan in fact seems less to quiet of its own accord, and more in response to the approaching stag. It's a good thing, too; L is exhausted, moving unsteadily, struggling to retain his balance though he's low to the ground in a trembling crouch, rather than standing.

The spiny ridges are offshore for the moment, engaged in the aquatic version of pacing. It gives L a moment to pull himself back up the increasingly slippery bank, pressing his chilled fingers close to his mouth and breathing against them. He takes a moment at Myr's question to gesture, vaguely and stiffly, at the visible parts of the beast.]

It's just...

[He pulls himself up, pushing against Myr to herd him away from the water's edge. For reasons both obvious and inexplicable, he's unhappy when Myr looks for too long at this thing that lives in his head, that doesn't leave and doesn't die and doesn't change in spite of all that evolves and grows around it. It's a source of bewilderment and shame for him; it would only be more so if the thing hurt Myr.]

It's throwing a tantrum and I'm not sure why. I have every reason to be happy right now.

<3!

[faithlikeaseed]

[Myr suffers himself to be pushed back from the water's edge as much from the pressure of L's desire as his chilled hands. He lingers a moment, though, head upraised and turned in the way that centers the beast in his vision. (Mark that, memorize it, give it a place in the tower.)

Then he dips his head to take L's collar in his teeth and steady his Bonded over a spot of treacherous ground. His mental voice is, absurdly, muffled but not obscured for the mouthful:]

That doesn't mean you must be happy if something else is out of joint in your life.

[He lets go of the piece of cloth, lifting his head enough to regard his Witch with one slot-pupiled hazel eye.]

Its world has gotten much larger all of a sudden. Filled up with things it's never seen before that might be anything from distractions to threats. All of its patterns are broken--and even the largest predators suffer for being disturbed that way.

[It would be very easy to lay all the blame on Light for these changes. It's only knowing he might miss something obvious in that rush to cry guilt that's keeping Myr from doing just that...

But it would be very easy.]

Has something happened?

[hearthebell]

[Difficult enough, here, to stand upright, let alone with a straight back and square shoulders. L struggles with that on the best of days, in all fairness. He allows Myr to steady him; by merit of dream logic and grace, his collar holds under the stress of teeth and tugging weight.

He chews his lip. He wouldn't mind if it did suffer, if it meant leaving this lake alone... but that would mean something else, too. For all that L despises his demons, his gifts share the same dwelling. If a hook or harpoon went through the beast's lip, his own would bleed. Myr understood that before he did, recognized that there was no vanquishing the Leviathan. Only living with it, in the ways that are acceptable, equal parts soothing and chiding.

He tilts his head, listening to the forest's dense cacophony. It's alive, the way a swarm of angry bees is alive. It's warm, in the way a fever is warm. His blood is pumping and his lungs are cycling breath after breath, but his exhaustion doesn't come with a side of pleasure or accomplishment.]

No...

[He's surprised by his own answer to Myr's question.]

Nothing's happened. He's good to me... that's not a problem.

[That surprises him, too.]

But... nothing's happened, or changed, in a long time.

[And that, actually, might be a problem. There's no sport or sustenance for the monster in the lake in those sickly floating fish carcasses.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[Strange, how the same words--nothing's happened--can be both a reassurance and everything but.

Nothing's happened: Light hadn't hurt L, not by lifted hand or lifted voice or unleashed spell. But nothing's happened: L's life is stultifying, unsatisfied.

Myr shifts his weight between his front hooves, looking around them again and really seeing beyond his initial delight in a forest. This riotous overgrowth is not--or not merely--a mawkish metaphor for a life desiccated by sorrow and privation returning to a fulness of human feeling. (This isn't a romance; this isn't The Gardener of Montsimmard where the antihero's little patch stands as symbol and signifier for his love life.) This is--noise, and empty friction, and ceaseless toil without challenge; this is too much stimulation without any signal in the noise. Of course the Leviathan frets and thrashes: The forest walls close in on it and promise no change, no hunting.

This is a change, yes, and growth, but not all in the right direction.

(And the greatest bulk of it did not start with Myr.)

This is the manifest anxiety that gnaws L's sleep to shreds and leaves him staggering of mornings: That things have grown to sameness around him.

(Except he has his own Witch now, a source of delight and challenge and endless fascination. That is what brought light and warmth and color this world, melted the ice, freed the beast.

Myr examines the implications of that for a moment and puts it away in trust for later.)

The Faun shortly turns his attention back to his Witch and--impulsively--sheds deer-shape for man-shape to offer L an arm. (An anchoring touch.)]

You've fallen into a rut, you think? Your studies--your work at the orphanage?

V

[cyclopticsadist]

[Niles had some very good luck with timing. Klaus had cashed in his coupon on the 3rd, Niles had the 4th and 5th as his off days, and morning of the 6th was his tattoo touchup. It meant that he hadn't had any clients in the intervening time, and so hadn't needed to heal up the bruises and bite marks on his neck and chest. It meant that even if Klaus hadn't had the funds to purchase the extravagant calligraphy thank you note he'd joked about, Niles would make it clear how L's little gift had gone over. It meant that he could ask L just what his game was in trying to set him up a bond.

Did it mean he knew Azura was gone? Was it a push to get him into any new bond for stability? Possible. Or was it sabotage? Also possible, given how...chaotic Klaus was. Was it some kind of misplaced gesture of genuine benevolence? If so for him or for Klaus? The possibility he finds most likely however, is the simplest. L was trying to get him in debt, and Niles needed to make it clear that he owed him absolutely nothing for re-gifting an experience he knew perfectly well he wouldn't dare collect.

He's aware enough of his own growing guilty conscience that he still owes L, but he'd complied with the officially set terms of their settlement and was not about to let L start dictating any future negotiations. He knocks, five quick loud strikes.]

[hearthebell]

[So much has happened recently that L's practically forgotten all about the coupon and the man who could make better use of it. He's had a near-perfect record for celibacy since the previous winter, not counting a very awkward attempt at a casual encounter with Hector at a faun party, and L only counts that on a very technical level.

There's been plenty else to keep him busy, things he finds as gratifying as many people find sex. Its absence in his life is noticed, but not to a horribly distracting or detrimental degree. While he was passing Niles' place of employment nearly daily for awhile on his way home from the orphanage through the entertainment district, he was more likely to look for a drink on the way home than a paid stranger to pleasure a body he would consider unpleasant to service, even for someone who cares about him deeply. Probably the reason Myr holds him tenderly at night, but directs a faun's randiness elsewhere.

He answers, cracking the door a crack and peering out with one wide eye. The eye rolls back witheringly before he widens the crack and addresses Niles.]

What did my door ever do to you? I suppose you're here for a touch-up.

[He jerks his head, turning and slouching back toward the table in a home that has another occupant, now, and small, neat signs of his occupancy. A chess board with a game in progress sits on the coffee table; books from the Coven library in disciplines L does not favor are in various places, and the kitchen is stocked with savory as well as sweet. It even smells like someone was cooking recently.]

[cyclopticsadist]

Would you rather I barge in unannounced?

[Something in Niles relaxes a little as L meets him with hostility and disgust. He's been walking on eggshells (particularly difficult with hooves) the few times he's had to interact with L these last few months for fear of causing the seemingly fragile truce to buckle, but so far it hasn't. And if L was going to be rude, Niles can easily give as good as he gets.

He strolls in, pulls out a chair and sits in it, then promptly leans it back on two legs and props his feet on the table, jostling the chess board and knocking over a few pieces. The set itself is interesting, as is the smell of sausage in the air. Myr stuck mostly to vegetables in all the time Niles had watched their shared meals. Did L's clearly unappreciated gift to Eli go over better than he assumed?]

Has Myr finally forced you into eating something other than tarts and sweets, or do you have a new housemate?

[He outstretches his arm in L's direction without looking at him, eye still roving around the room noting the small but significant changes.]

[hearthebell]

[L's tools are already close at hand; an efficient sort by nature, he keeps them near his work area. He pulls out his case and begins assembling the components he needs. Needles, ink. Rune pen, although by this point he hardly needs to put it on paper before he refreshes what's on Niles' arm, even when he adds something recently-learned to improve something about it.

From the kitchen table, where he's setting up to work, he glances over his shoulder at the living area, where Niles has put his feet on the coffee table, knocked over some pieces. He rolls his eyes again, breathes out slow.]

The Black King and Queen were on D8 and E8, respectively. The White Bishop was on D7 and the Black Pawn was on E7, if you please.

[He has a feeling that even if that meant anything at all to Niles, he wouldn't bother to reset that region of the board.]

...I have a new housemate, yes.

[Guardedly. Depending on what Niles might already know, he doesn't want to give away too much or get caught in a lie. Goodness knows he never misses a chance to crow.]

[cyclopticsadist]

[Niles knows chess quite well actually. There was a reason pawns and knights were running around in his head before L started manipulating his dreams. Chess inspires homesickness in him, and as he looks at the fallen pieces and hears L rattle off board positions he can't help but remember Leo. Leo, dictating how he should set the board so they could practice mid-game reversals, or giving him a chance to start with an advantageous position so he could practice cutting off a retreat. Leo, superficially similar to L, but so so so different. Remembering him is like touching a hot stove, and he has to grit his teeth to stop himself from flipping the board in sudden misplaced rage. With Azura gone, his moods have gotten more volatile, but they're far from out of control. He's not desperate for any bond seeking witch tossed onto his lap.

He raises his legs from the table and leans forward, letting just a bit of his anger out through the hard thuNK of the chair back to the floor. As for the chess board...he resets it to a new game, then joins L in the kitchen, eye carefully inspecting each of the tools.]

What happened, Lalu finally realize she'd be more appreciated elsewhere?

[He knows it's not that. A new housemate who'd customized parts of this space, who was enough of an equal for L to play chess with, who prepared and ate their own meals here was clearly more than an employee. But Niles knows he won't get much information by asking directly. Giving L a chance to correct him however might be more enticing. He sits finally, but doesn't hold out his arm just yet.]

This is more than last time.

[A statement asking the question, what's it all for?]