[OPEN] The Stars, The Moon, They Have All Been Blown Out

[hearthebell]

Who: L Lawliet and YOU (some open prompts, some semi-open)
When: Octeuril 21 through the end of the month
Where: Around Geardagas
What: Waking up to find that he doesn't have permanent severe brain damage is tempered by realizing and processing that his Bonded actually does.
Warnings: References to violent events, angst, will update if necessary



A. Octeuril 21, The Cottage (Open to residents, visitors and healers)

[It's been a week since Myr's desperate attack had thrown blackout curtains over L's senses and thoughts, further complicated by the violent fundamental alteration of his Bonded. He'd received prompt healing to his head and ribs that made the overall prognosis hopeful, and has been cared for and kept comfortable enough, but the fact of the matter is that Connor woke up, and then the SQUIP, but trailing behind them, L just didn't. Frequent doses of healing magic can help, but not change, the fact that the brain is complex and fragile, and rebuilding and repairing it can take time with even skilled and careful intervention.

For seven days and nights, he's been sleeping it off, recuperating in the quiet and subtle ways that make the biggest collective difference. Eventually, the culmination amounts to "enough", and with no trigger, catalyst or warning, he sits up in bed with no memory of how he got there.

So, start from the beginning.

Who? The SQUIP. Rich. Niles, Michael, Jeremy, Connor and Justine. Myr.

What? The Bond is different. The Bond has changed. The SQUIP has changed.

Where? Just outside. There was blood on the pavement.

When? Too long ago. So much has happened.

Why? It had to be stopped.

How? Fingertips explore the tender place where a skull was broken, has begun to mend in earnest. Clear enough, somehow... with no small measure of disquietment, L understands that he should probably be a vegetable. Someone, or several someones, have been working on ensuring that he woke up with the one thing he couldn't live without intact. How long is the list of names? How many people does L theoretically owe his life to, now?]

Is someone there?

[A week in bed has him anxious to get to his feet again, but... oh, slow, it's a head rush just to put them on the floor while he remains seated. He's hungry, and though either magic or gentle attentive hands have been keeping his body free of grime, he wants to bathe badly.]

Please tell me what's happened.

[He'll settle for anyone, the first person he lays eyes on. Friend or foe, he has to know; he isn't usually the last, this way.]

B. The Coven (Open)

[Getting back to some semblance of an ordinary life means returning to old familiar habits. The things that L's grey matter remembers so well it's second nature are, quite simply, folding into the sanctuary of committed study, and while the new and far more human SQUIP needs him in ways it didn't used to, that's still overwhelming. Latching onto L as a fellow human who can guide it through this transition is a mistake; whether or not it's a birthright, L was never very good at being human. It's the reason he considered a machine safe, and now that it's distraught and tormented and volatile, all on account of its reaction to his injury.

Books and scrolls are stacked high at his side, and he's working on a new set of runes. A jeweler's magnifying lens is held against his eye as he carefully etches them into pieces of scrap metal bent into the crude shape of a ring. These are just practice goes, of course, but some of them are promising. He places them in one pile; a far larger pile of rejects is littering the floor around the legs of his chair.

He glances your way, shoulders curling, seeming to grow a touch more protective of his work. Lately, he can only assume that others want to take things from him that bring him some small semblance of happiness.]

C. The Sly Seadog- Samuin (Open)

[Then, of course, there are the things that are not familiar at all. A mind is more than just a collection of memories and compiled facts; it has to adapt and respond and arrange data into solutions, and while working in a controlled and quiet environment is one way to test that, L can't think of a better scenario than this one to put himself through his paces.

The SQUIP can't help him the way it used to. He feels, in many ways, like a child about to cross the street for the first time without holding his caretaker's hand.]

Buy me a shot of liquor.

[He's addressing you. Maybe you know each other and he genuinely feels you owe it to him; maybe you're strangers and he is just testing the baseline for any kind of natural charisma he may possess in this capacity. Either way, he's getting some looks from a few of the bar's rowdier-looking individuals, and deigns to add]

...please.

D. WILDCARD

[Don't see it? Want it? Well, COOL, in all likelihood I do too but just didn't think to include it. Write your own prompt and I'll roll with it, or hit me up on plurk at lexil or on discord at ladylazarus#2235!]

Comments

The Sly Seadog- Samuin

[heerequeerandfulloffear]

[There's something different about Jeremy compared to the last time L met him, and it's not his change into Victorian-adjacent clothing. He's considerably more reserved than the last time they spoke, both in his body language and in his actual speech. It's a miracle that he's willing to come outside at all.

There's a reason he's in a bar, though he's surprised that no one's IDed him. He has a glass of whiskey on the rocks, the taste of which he's vastly overestimated based on movies and TV. He's been nursing it so slowly that the ice has almost fully melted.

He doesn't have much money right now since he's had to beg it off of others. Normally, there'd be no way in hell that he'd spend it on L--either he wouldn't give him the time of day or he'd be running for the door.

But L's come right up to him and asked him the one thing that makes Jeremy stare at him, then, with a little nod of understanding, reach into his backpack and come up with some coins.]

This enough?

[He doesn't ask why L needs it or seems to think he deserves it from Jeremy. It's obvious.]

[hearthebell]

[At first, L stiffens, shoulders tensing as he registers Jeremy's identity. He cants his head and leans forward slightly; the lighting in here is dim, but he's sure it's him. The first few days after waking up were difficult, mostly because he'd had to adjust to the SQUIP's constant presence being somewhat quieted and the mundane and small choices it had made for him had fallen back into his hands again.

If L had seen Jeremy as Jeremy, immediately, perhaps he would have ignored him, or even left, but considering their last encounter, those circumstances, the fundamentally changed and newly incomprehensible SQUIP that L's now Bonded to? Maybe he is owed a drink.

He glances at the coins in Jeremy's hand.]

If it's all you have... it's enough.

[L has money, after all. This is about flying solo without the SQUIP he far prefers to have.]

[heerequeerandfulloffear]

[The time apart hasn't made the heart grow fonder, huh?]

It's better to drink it fast, but it only lasts as long as the alcohol's in your bloodstream. At least, that's how it used to work. I'm sure you don't need me to walk you through how to take a shot.

[He puts the coins on the counter and scoots them toward L. It's not an olive branch. It's only that Jeremy has a standard of decency that has nothing to do with L.]

It gets quieter eventually.

[hearthebell]

[To be fair, L isn't "fond" of many people, and Jeremy sort of took away the thing that he was actually attached to.

But the child is really rather too simple to hate. And as much as L is loathe to admit it... he's in rather a unique place to understand a great deal of what L's going through right now. It's obnoxious, of course, but maybe just a little welcome.]

If you think there's a trick to it... you'd better let me know.

[He orders his shot; it's sweeter than most but still acrid, mostly alcohol, and he takes his shot like someone who sips most things. Every second appears to be absolute torture, but he gets it down.]

...quieter?

[He knows exactly what Jeremy's referring to. It cuts a little deep at the moment; he misses its constant presence.]

Is the same true for you?

[Mean? Maybe, but he'll make up for it.]

What are you drinking?

[It's his turn to buy one, and he sure has a fat billfold, there.]

shots shots shots shots

[faithlikeaseed]

[Rank "a dockside bar" up there among the places Myr had never thought to find himself, in all his imaginings of the world beyond the Circle's walls. Of course he'd also never thought he'd have antlers, a tail, and an instinctive taste for hard alcohol, but here he is with all three and a seat at the bar. He'd been convivial enough with the bar's usual patrons--and they accustomed enough to both Fauns and the maimed--that they haven't turfed him out despite his pretty manners making him an ill fit for the place...

Which means he's on his third or fourth drink by the time Linden walks up to him, and any surprise (griefguiltshame) he'd feel is nicely blunted. Without even batting an-- Well. Without checking at the request, he raps his knuckles on the bar to get the bartender's attention, jerks his head in Linden's direction, and says,]

His tab's on me.

[Dangerous thing to do with Linden, he knows, but to the Void with it--he owes the other man at least that much.

There's a stool open beside him; he uses a foot to nudge it back if Linden should care to take it.]

How's your head? [Asked without preamble, because if he thinks any harder on what to say he'll get lost in the feeling of obligation to spill it all, unvarnished.]

[hearthebell]

[L's a couple in by the time he notices Myr's presence in the bar. It's a reckless kind of relief he experiences, in a way, because the dust has settled. Why the hell can't he see a person he likes talking to? Why can't he approach them and make a playful demand?

It's surreal. It's also, apparently, so audacious that Myr actually agrees to pick up his tab. It proves that the SQUIP was onto something all along, doesn't it? Confidence can make any request fly, from anyone, but... no, that's not quite right. Myr never disliked him; Myr never wanted to hurt him. Myr's intentions, like the SQUIP's, were always good, and L is the snake in the middle who deserves the efforts of neither.

The alcohol he's already imbibed has made him bolder, more willing to initiate both conversation and contact. He reaches for Myr's hand, drawing his fingertips toward the side of his head where a scar that his hair covers visually is extremely tactilely apparent.]

I'm actually extremely lucky...

[He pauses before chuffing a breath of quiet laughter.]

I've spent a lifetime not being handsome, so this isn't really a step back, or anything.

[His partner is another story. His partner is home, now, and miserable, and incomplete, and angry. L told himself that this was a bid to get his head together, rethink his strategy... but secretly, maybe the opportunity to get away for a bit was tempting.

He'll go home, and resume being there even if he hates the way the situation makes him feel helpless.]

Do you know... it's my birthday today. I'm 26.

[faithlikeaseed]

[And Myr's never been shy about touch if someone else starts it, so he's amenable to having his hand taken and guided where Linden wills. Even if the ridge of scar tissue under his fingers provokes a faint wince, he's amenable; this is something he needs to face, the marks of a fight he'd picked left written into the flesh of someone he cared about.

That Linden had survived it feels like a miracle in itself. He'll be on his knees for it at his shrine later.

(That Linden had, apparently, forgiven him for it--or near enough as to approach him out of the blue and ask for a drink--... He'll thank the Maker for that too.)

The drink, the relief, the fact Linden started it has an emboldening effect on Myr, too; he slides his hand down in the briefest fond touch to the side of Linden's face, teasing, as he does--]

You've got the bones for being handsome, if you'd eat more. [The large-eyed skeletal waif look had never done it for Myr before, but he's a kind soul, and even if all Linden seems to have to him is bone...they are nice bones.

He takes his hand back before he can think on that too far.] But I won't argue you've got Maferath's own luck; I was afraid, [lightly said, but never, ever lightly meant,] I'd killed you.

[One corner of his mouth quirks up at Linden's revelation on the date, the smile between fond and rueful.] Right on the cusp of their new year--and that's a piece of luck too, isn't it? Happy birthday, Linden. S'pose you ought to get yourself dinner and dessert, on me, too.

[hearthebell]

[Forgiveness is complicated. L's unsure if he's ever actually felt it, but... there are many things he's unsure if he's ever felt. Sometimes, it's easier to step away, wrap a sweater tighter around one's shoulders to keep out the chill, and tonight L wants so badly to be warm.

His face is very still against Myr's touch; he's not even breathing, but perhaps the faun can feel the brush of lashes rapidly blinking twice.]

Don't say that. I'd made my peace with it. Do you really want me to spend my birthday thinking about all the ways being handsome could have been helpful to me over the last 26 years?

[It's funny; he's treating it like it's funny, mostly to deflect from the complicated bundle of things Myr seems to have expressed. It's too much to unpack while he's drinking, perhaps too much to unpack at any other time. The tone gets somewhat more serious with Myr's mention of his near-death, and he actually embraces the shift... but it's still optimistic, still warm. Even fond.]

Without extremely prompt healing [the SQUIP] your fears would likely have been justified. I'd have been killed, in some way or another.

[Because that kind of brain damage would ordinarily not be as easy to sleep off as the hangover L will probably have tomorrow. He's well aware of the fact, well aware that between eternal dark silence and a confusing life spent stumbling through a whirl of light and sound he cannot comprehend, the choice stands out clear.]

If you'd just stay awhile...

[He doesn't want Myr to buy him dinner or even dessert. He's already been generous with his money, but L started his birthday drinking alone. For a man like him, company is rare, and coveted on the even rarer occasion that it's good.]

Sly Dog

[blackbonded]

[ The unexpected request has him raising a brow at him. ]

Do I know you?

[hearthebell]

[L doesn't fit in here. He seems a little too... refined, perhaps, though his sloppy presentation makes that seem as though it's not quite the proper word. The way he holds his glass is finicky and delicate; if those spindly fingers tried to throw a punch he might break his hand.

He's a witch though, fortunately, and fists aren't all he's relying on.]

No, no you definitely don't know me, but if you'd like to, I'm way more fun when I'm not completely sober.

[He sounds as though he's had a few already, and... maybe a little like he's reciting from a script.]

...would you be willing to answer a few questions about first impressions? Do I seem fun, or like the right amount of self-deprecating?

[blackbonded]

[ It still catches him off guard meeting new people who seem to know the other 'him'. For a moment, he thinks he has to explain he isn't the other Shiro, but his concern is laid to rest with that upfront admission. He doesn't know him. It puts him at ease and makes him more amiable to his request until he keeps on talking drawing his brows down in true puzzlement. ]

Sure... I guess.

[ He's kind of strange, but Shiro's dealt with stranger aka Slav.]

Can I ask, why you want to know?

[hearthebell]

[Whether it's fortunate or not, L can be insular; he hasn't had the pleasure (or displeasure) of meeting either Shiro. What's certain is he's one of those people who's a little off, who might not be psychotic or overtly attempting to make others uncomfortable, but certainly has failed to pick up a certain number of social skills over his lifetime. He had a cheat code for it, recently... but that's been taken from him. His Bonded is no longer in the back of his mind telling him how to succeed at every juncture.

Explaining that, of course, is a little fraught and might actually make him sound insane.]

It's just that... it's what I'm going for. Too much self-deprecation can just make a person seem like they're down on themselves or suicidally depressed, whereas the right amount can make them seem self-aware and confident enough to poke fun at their own flaws.

[He thinks this is the case. It's actually really difficult to apply book knowledge to these types of situations.]

a but wildcarding into bunny baftime eventually

[bleedinghare]

"―oh― oh, Linden, thank goodness!"

He most likely could feel her touch as she bent over him, brushing stray, stringy locks from his forehead― foggy vision giving way to a warm smile, gilded curls, soft ears. A basin and pitcher, along with a cloth, sits untouched on a nearby table. She had just come in, taking her time to open the curtains to allow morning light to wash over the room, but his awakening clearly supercedes whatever she had been preparing to do.

Adeline takes a seat in a chair that sits close-by, looking relieved― if not joyed at seeing him rouse, if only a bit. His attempt to sit up further, to put his feet on the floor is met with the gentle, near-touch of her hand over his chest. "―don't! You needn't push yourself too soon― please, let me instead."

"Oh, the SQUIP will be more than happy to hear you've woken― it's been days... we were worried for you." Taking her little glove away, she offers him a smile as she leans toward the little table, taking a teacup in her hands to offer it to his lips. "―I poured this for myself, but please― it's still warm, and I'm sure you'll be happy to have something other than water..."

[hearthebell]

[L's head jerks up at the soft sound of one of his housemate's voices. It makes sense that Ada would be around; with a jolt, he comprehends that she's probably been one of the people caring for him. His hand goes to shield his sore eyes from the wash of daylight, but he's no longer a vampire; it's no longer a concern, just a mild headache that should subside once he's a bit more accustomed to it.]

Let... you.

[He repeats it slowly, ultimately agreeing, even if he's uneasy with the insistence. Easy. If it's been this long, she's probably been doing some of this already.

He accepts the teacup gratefully, very nearly greedily. He's parched.]

The SQUIP is... alright? What's happened?

[He repeats the question, breathless after gulping his tea.]

[bleedinghare]

Adeline allows him to do so, gently taking it into her palms to hold it just within reach― keeping the teacup readily available, but allowing him to remain unencumbered. She gives a little nod.

"―yes," She replies warmly, smiling, though it dims a few tones at his question. "but very fatigued, and very... affected, ser. To see it weep like I did pains me."

Closing her eyes, two downy, white ears slope languidly on either side of her head as a touch of excitable tension melts off of her shoulders. Caring for them is no burden on her heart― she is glad to do so― but it's clearly burdening her body, hues of sleeplessness replacing a usual rosy countenance.

"I'm sorry― I don't know very much. When I arrived to find you both, there was nobody who might answer my questions... and with the SQUIP so out of sorts, I daren't pry to what placed it there." After a moment of respite, she sits up, looking a bit more alert. "I was just about to re-dress your wounds and clean you up a little bit. I've been doing so for the last few days, in the morning and evening."

[hearthebell]

[She's so eager to help; L knows this about Ada, has known it in fact for a very long time, but it's always a little jarring to see just how naturally these small helpful, thoughtful gestures come to her, when someone like L would have to think about it for a very long time if it occurred to him at all.

He's about to press her for more information about the SQUIP, but he realize as she continues speaking that she has been kept in the dark. Maybe through luck, and maybe through careful reigning back of key and crucial information. Maybe, like him, she's just come to care so much about the SQUIP that none of it would even matter to her, but he still opts to play it safe.]

Thank you for your care, on his behalf and... mine.

[Such an awkward thing to have to phrase.]

Could you tell me what you mean by "affected?" As well as you're able?

[She looks absolutely exhausted. He knows that both common decency and simple practicality can't keep her by his bedside indefinitely, and he is anxious to see for himself what Ada means, but... whatever she can tell him would certainly be useful. The Bond feels like an alien planet at this moment, more than home.]

B

[enkidoh]

[Thing is, Enkidu is quite good at what they used to do. Their abilities were powerful and they could handle most of the enemies they faced. But when it comes to becoming a witch they have no clue what they are doing. Of course, the books teaches them about spells and they are able to use magic, but there is no balance. Sometimes nothing comes out, sometimes too much and it is somewhat frustrating because they want to know this.

But then there is this human over there being overly protective over their work and, well Enkidu closes that big book about conjuration. Slowly they move to stand and walk around the table, driven by their neverending curiosity.

Instead of touching any the pieces they are engraving they pick up one of the rejects that lies on the floor.]

May I keep this? [After that they point at three others that lie more underneath the chair.] Hmm. And those too?

[hearthebell]

[That makes two of them. L was sterling at his former career, the best in fact. After several months to hone his craft, he's gotten damn good at his job in Geardagas... but there's more he wants. It's what comes of being an ambitious man and after losing a week, he can only scramble to catch up.

He glances up sharply at the newcomer's question, fingertips nudging aside his notes.]

I don't mind, but... why?

[Does this person even know how to parse a failed spell?]

[enkidoh]

[Enkidu turns the objects around in their hands, eyes narrowing a little as they try to recall their lessons. Was this mentioned before? The symbols could refer to some spell. Or they could be a part of a spell.]

Hmm...I am just curious.

[No, they absolutely cannot.]

I take it that the symbols refer to spells? And when used together magic can happen?

okay around the 28th? also wildcard

[plasticasshole]

[Connor is still recovering from both his fight for the SQUIP and his fight with Niles more recently. He’s still working despite everything, though he seems more cautious— as though convinced he might be watched by someone.

He notices L walking his way while walking back from work, and pauses. Before he can pass, Connor holds a hand out to stop him gently.]

Linden. I haven’t seen you since... are you okay?

\o/

[hearthebell]

[L can spot that kind of paranoia from quite far away, indeed. In fact, he recognizes it before he even realizes it's Connor walking towards him, it's so ingrained in him. He knows what it looks like... and also what it feels like, because it is every waking moment for the skittish detective, and was even before the attack.

His shoulders raise toward his ears, more like a cat arching its back than a shrug or a stretch. Especially the way he holds the tense posture. His eyes glance down, staring at the hand at his shoulder.

No...?

He nods, slow and stilted. Connor wasn't this apparently damaged, the last time he saw the android.]

You're... not.

[What happened?]

[plasticasshole]

[Connor unconsciously puts a hand to his neck where Niles had bit him. When he takes it away again, the skin is deactivated, showing L the mending gash in the plastic underneath. Justine is having to heal it in intervals with magic, and it isn't quite done yet... nor has she been able to replace his lost Thirium, so he's slower than usual.]

Niles captured me on my way home from work a few days ago. He was feral... he wanted to see me bleed more. Luckily the damage wasn't irreversible.

[It's a good thing he hit him with that charm breaker when he did, though.]

C

[onamissile]

[Payback for the indulgent meal, then? While Mello is more inclined to steal an entire bottle and tuck them both into a corner so they can speak, he thinks there's more to this than L wanting liquor. He's... off — of course he is — and if that's what will help him settle into these surroundings, then so be it.]

[He orders one — no, two — shots of cognac up (L didn't specify; Mello assumes that the underlying sweetness will do) and assesses his mentor with both curiosity and concern while he awaits the bartender's return.]

Should I bother asking why you're drinking?

[Mello's as bold as ever. More so now that he's comfortable with being here. He's not as lost as he was, is leaning against the bar with his elbows propped on the edge. He doesn't drink. Not usually. But with L? He's safe, isn't he? Comfortable.]

[hearthebell]

[L waits, gaze level and steady and dull with some distant panic. Maybe approaching Mello was cheating, in some way, because of course the boy wouldn't tell him no. Regardless of how lost he seems, he must know what he's doing; that's just the way he was trained to think about the detective, the way they were all trained to think of this shabby trainwreck of a human being shrouded in mystery and achievement.]

It's just that I...

[He blinks twice, those overlarge eyes stinging from the smoke of a nearby cigar. As much as L's (the SQUIP's) care in his appearance has lapsed lately, he still seems somehow overly delicate and refined for his environment. He has the distinction of not quite fitting in anywhere, really.]

I was celebrating. It's actually my birthday, and... this is customary, isn't it?

[Technically correct, but lacking. People don't throw parties alone, drink alone when they have anything at all to celebrate.]

[onamissile]

[Mello stills as the shots are placed in front of him; stares at L for a moment in complete silence. Granted, it's not as intimate as revealing his true name, but that L would reveal his birthday is something personal and unexpected.]

Your birthday is on Halloween.

[Deadpanned. Either utterly appropriate or a complete lie; there's nothing in his mentor's demeanor that denotes lying in any form. But L is a master of deception, isn't he? Doesn't matter. And Mello's never been one to celebrate anything other than victory; his own birthday has been ignored ever since he left The House, where the day was forced on him, distracting him from studying and climbing to the top. He scrunches his brows, slides L's shot over to him. He lifts his own, offers a nod of acknowledgement.]

To life after death, then.

[Really, what else can they toast to? He won't throw the cognac back until the detective clinks the shotglass against his own.]

You should be happier. [In some demented way.] Your life didn't end when it was supposed to, and now you can operate without worrying about that devil monopolizing your time.

[That's... something to be happy about, isn't it?]