Event Log: January, Return to Dorchacht

[faileas]

Event Log: January, Return to Dorchacht

I. A Tarnished Reality The teleporter to Dorchacht becomes operational by the 4th and the ambassadors return to their city with the first open, ceremonial operation of the device - along with any Mirrorbound who wish to join them, and Theodore Rosethorne and Sowilo, who make the trip as representatives of the Coven to ensure that all is well. Those who missed the first teleportation, never fear! Now that both waypoints are functional, Mirrorbound and others may travel freely between Aefenglom and Dorchacht at any point they choose to. Notably absent from the group, though - most of the Dorchacht refugees originally smuggled into Aefenglom. Only three or four are going back with the ambassadors, and they're primarily Witches. The rest have chosen to stay. Upon return to Dorchacht, it's obvious that some major changes have been made with the new regime. The sky is overcast, but it's merely fault of the weather at this time of year - the oppressive fog that used to hang over the Black City is gone, along with its effects on the natural lunar cycle. The auction blocks, damaged in the fires of the event the locals now call "The Rising", have been fully torn down, not a trace of them left to sully the streets. Where the triple stars of the Resistance used to be worn in secret, a majority of citizens now bear them openly (and in many cases, proudly) on pins and on clothing. In fact, any Witches who do not display the triple stars on their person somewhere, are generally regarded with suspicion, disgust, or fear unless they're recognized as Mirrorbound Witches - careful not to be mistaken for a Drummond sympathizer. The Monster citizens won't be outwardly cruel to any Witches, but will be somewhat fearful, hurrying their children along or crossing the street to get away. Recognizable Mirrorbound, those who were there during The Rising and before, are treated a bit like celebrities on the streets, though any Mirrorbound are given a warm welcome, albeit a little less warm for Witches. Storytellers share tales of how diplomats treating one another, Witches and Monsters alike, as equals so publicly and openly within Dorchacht gave them hope that such a life is attainable, or how a band of Mirrorbound snuck into the city under the cover of darkness and helped give their Resistance a leg up in the good fight against Drummond's extremists. Others share stories of being rescued from burning buildings or cruel Witches during The Rising by brave heroes. Many of these tales are shared in the form of song, as homage to those Mirrorbound who brought hopeful music to Dorchacht through the radio, which is still operational and playing a selection of music with a little more variety. Still a bit soft, their speakers and songs are, but as time passes, they grow a little more experimental, branching out from the lullabies that used to be played. Overall, the Black City is much less black these days, a little greener and brighter from the plants left by Mirrorbound before. Where the old Dorchacht could take your breath away with its feeling of barred oppression, many of those barricaded windows have been opened, reinforcements on the doors broken down. Though things are never perfect after a revolution, and it's clear that the work continues. Armed Resistance guards patrol the streets in trios, normally two Monsters and a Witch, to keep the peace. Their first priority is the protection of Monsters, many of whom still seem anxious and scared as they go about their days - not of the guards themselves, who they often greet with smiles, but of the Witches and humans they pass on the streets. In some cases, keeping the peace means breaking up fights between their own and those humans and Witches who do not want to accept Monsters as their equals, and in some cases it means putting Drummond sympathizers in their places with intimidation and force. While they do their best to keep skirmishes out of Mirrorbound sight, it's clear that despite the improvements, Dorchacht is still no utopia, and the road to a true peace is fraught with speedbumps. As noted, characters are free to travel between Aefenglom and Dorchacht by teleporter as often as they'd like! The waypoints will remain open even after this month and travel will be unrestricted; we will note if this situation changes in the future. Dorchacht quests are also now available ICly!

II. A Few Alterations a. The Coven Major changes are still underway. One of the biggest that Mirrorbound will notice is that the new administration of Dorchacht have moved the Coven. The old building is in a state of disrepair right now, doors and windows wide open, the interior stripped of trappings. The library has shed its books to somewhere else. The basement where so many horrors took place is abandoned. Instead, a sign has been erected outside it, stating that this center of Drummond's operations will be turned into a museum to remember their unpleasant history, and to memorialize those who lost their lives fighting for freedom. It's still a work in progress, and not high on the priority list when survival and care of the citizens have to take precedence, but inside, characters may still find small shrines set up in various places to Resistance members who died there. Instead, Dorchacht's new Coven is currently based inside an old manor located just a handful of blocks from the town square, and it's a much more informal affair. Magic lessons have continued with Resistance Witches, though the subject matter has changed instead. They experiment with different types of magic based on their own interests, but many are studying plant magic, medicine, and defensive spells that can be used out in the Wilde. Anything that will prove to be practical going forward. Lessons are also open to Monsters now, so they can see what their magical brethren are learning (and know that the compulsion and control spells that Morgana loved so much are no longer being taught). With the Coven being moved, visitors from Aefenglom are offered places to stay either within the manor of the new Coven, or in various empty houses around the city. Stay as long as you'd like, they say, and apologize that the accommodations aren't nicer - reconstruction is still obviously ongoing all over the city, repairing damages from The Rising and the fighting that happened afterward. They don't really have anywhere as nice as the rooms their ambassadors were given in Aefenglom. b. The Walls One of the biggest on-going projects in Dorchacht right now is removing the Monster control spells from the set of enchantments on their city walls. High on the list of priorities is making sure that Monsters can feel safe again, secure in their own minds and bodies. As the spells are made visible, particular sets of runes have to be ground down and smoothed over. A spell is either cast or provided to soften the stone temporarily, and then it's basically going at it with magitech-powered sanders created by Hilda. The particular runes that need to be gotten rid of will be provided on reference sheets - please don't touch the others, they chide! Those are to protect from the Cwyld, and are still very important. While help is welcomed with open arms and enthusiasm at most sections of the walls, those guards posted at one particular small district, guarded with trios of Resistance members at each entrance and warded with alarm magic to warn of escape, turn Mirrorbound away; these runes are being altered, not removed, to help contain unruly Drummond loyalists, they say. The people who now live in that guarded district are all human, whether they're Witches or no, and all refuse to bear the triple stars. "Troublemakers," the guards will explain grimly. "We have to contain them for now. It isn't a perfect solution, but they've hurt people, or tried to hurt people, since Drummond was run out of town." c. Bond Lessons Bonding is a bit of a tricky subject in the new Dorchacht. Many Monsters are afraid of the idea, as it was once used as one of the collars around their necks, but the Circle of Three recognize it as an important way to wean citizens off the lullabies and calming draughts that prevent going feral during full moons. As part of encouraging others to form Bonds, partnerships at the very least the way most Resistance members describe theirs, there are demonstrations and public seminars that pop up around Dorchacht on the regular. They may be as informal as a circle in what's going to be a park or as official-seeming as a talk held inside a shop or lecture hall, but they have one thing in common. Many of the citizens are keen on getting Mirrorbound in on it -- mostly by dragging them in, asking if they have a Bonded, and if they do, they tell the Mirrorbound to talk about their Bonded. They're interested in the ups and downs (but mostly ups) of having one in order to show that if the Mirrorbound are into it, you should be too! They accept all stories but prefer the happy ones - the aim is to encourage their Monster citizens and help them be less afraid of taking that step with Witches. And for those who aren't in a Bond, or decline to talk -- well, they get what amounts to a "flour sack baby" in the form of a Dorchacht citizen of the opposite role of their own (a Monster would receive a human/Witch, a Witch would receive a Monster) that they must hang with for a day, ensuring no harm comes to them, bound by one of the temporary Bonding potions so popular in the Wilders' ranks. (As a note, for the second option, you have free reign of the NPC; do the personalities you find fun, be they cooperative or mischievous, shy or loud, abrasive to your character or someone they can genuinely get along with. They are all willing - no one is being forced into this. No Fae or Dragons allowed for Monster NPCs, unfortunately, as they are still very much not about.)

III. Ahoy Mateys! With Dorchacht opening up again after the last few months of closed off internal fighting, plenty of trading ships' Captains are ready and raring to go build business relations with the new regime and find a new market for some of their wares. There has been increased interest in finding a shorter route to Dorchacht by sea - the teleporter is useful for small groups of people, sure, but it can't handle much cargo. The only problem? Ships are being turned back, barely halfway there, with significant damage to their hulls. Brave individuals looking for a seafaring adventure are asked to come aboard and help the crew navigate tumultuous waters, hopefully figuring out along the way what's causing the damage to previous ships. It's a three day trip to Dorchacht if the waters are kind, and characters can simply teleport back home once there. On board the various ships brave enough to return to the sea, Mirrorbound find the problem halfway through the trip: a colossal squid that's made it home at this point, thrashing ships that come too close to its den. While uninfected, it does have injuries on its body, which may be the source of its lashing out. The ships are able to bring themselves close enough for longer ranged attacks, and the Harpy on board are careful not to be captured by the churning waves caused by the thrashing, but there's others who want to seek a less violent mean to end this surf and turf conflict. Killing, healing, subduing, or relocating it are all valid options, but getting in close to do any of those will be difficult, as it has a tendency to ink up the waters around it and reduce visibility to nothing. Be careful of any creatures swimming around that are interested in the weakened squid as well, such as various carnivorous fish, sea-plants, and things that appear alike to Merrow, but rely only on instinct. The Merrow cannot be spoken to, nor are they infected; the Captains of the ships will explain that they're "wild", and refer to them as distant cousins to the Merrow that sparsely populate Aefenglom itself.

IV. Back At Home Back in Aefenglom, the stir caused by the Circle of Three's arrival takes time to calm. It's the talk of the town for days - many seem happy about Morgana Drummond's apparent demise. "Good for them," is the general sentiment in the residential areas more populated by Monsters and the Harbor District. They're glad to know that things are on the way up there. Others think this is a boon; should anything happen, now Aefenglom has an ally city to stand with them, one in their debt. Others still don't really care either way, and go about their lives as if nothing's happened. The refugees, in their neighborhoods on the far reaches of the Haven, seem happy to hear news from home and find The Dragon/Starlight/Fafnir freed, and while a few of them choose to return to Dorchacht, having never put down roots in Aefenglom, more still don't wish to leave the homes and families they've formed here, or the Mirrorbound who have helped them so much over the months. Some even doubt that things are as good as they say, and choose to remain for that reason - slavery and ill treatment from the upper class in Aefenglom instilled in them a sense of (well-earned) paranoia regarding the intentions of Witches, especially those back home. They hear that things have changed, but don't necessarily want to find out for themselves. Even still, the mood is upbeat, with a general consensus that if Morgana is really gone, that's at least a solid step in the right direction. In the Aristocratic District, though, the atmosphere is sour. The general sentiment is that they wish the refugees would have left with those ambassadors. The kinder ones think Aefenglom should focus on its own citizens - the people from the Outer City brought in to weather the blizzard have never left, after all, still living in the neighborhoods with the refugees. Those who are more vocally outspoken about the Mirrorbounds' presence in the city think they should have all left to Dorchacht. Let another city shoulder all the misfortune they bring with them! Many of the people grumbling about that are ones who were directly affected by the Mists back in October, either through temporary changes themselves or through being attacked by ferals. Some of the more hot-headed young people try to spread this message - through graffiti, on homes and businesses in the Haven and the refugees' district, though if caught, they're quick to run away and not willing to enter into a confrontation. The graffiti is wholly mundane and not particularly difficult to remove, just unpleasant, telling Mirrorbound and refugees alike to "go home" or "go back to Dorchacht", in so much colorful language. Seems there's still some work to do at home, as well.

Welcome to your establishing post for the current situation in Dorchacht! This log takes place through the entire month; characters can come and go as they please. As always, you can direct all your questions HERE. This month we're also putting up a City Tracker for PC actions, both in Aefenglom's plot later on and Dorchacht's log here. Let us know what your character is doing, good or bad! The cut-off for the tracker is February 3rd.

Comments

[hearthebell]

[L's a surprisingly quiet sleeper, for how desperately deep his sleep appears to be. So much that Mello's foot bumping against his curled form isn't actually enough to make him stir; he's warm, and malleable, and certainly alive, just... maybe a touch dead to the world, at least. And looking a touch worse for wear, as though this isn't the first night he's spent somewhere a bit rougher than the SQUIP's clean and pressed bed sheets.

Mello's foot might not have been enough to rouse his Bonded, but his voice, on the other hand, absolutely does it. He's disoriented when he wakes, his arm hastily propping him up only for his elbow to slam into the leg of the table in a way that must hurt. He grinds his teeth, massaging it, peering up at Mello with sleep still in his eyes.

Well. Sleep, and something else that blurs their edges and their focus. He blinks; his very eyeballs ache.]

Yes?

[Crisply, but with an edge of annoyance, as though Mello has intruded on a place where L could have a reasonable expectation of privacy rather than a public library.]

[onamissile]

[If not concerned, Mello is nothing short of amused. When the other bumps his elbow, pale brows shoot up — ]

[L's been drinking. Something that seems to be commonplace here; it's only understandable. Things are in a constant trial of upset; nothing is permanent. God knows Mello's had his share of cognac during his short time here.]

You look like shit.

[Light of a statement it can be; Mello's lifting a cup of oversweetened coffee to his lips, settling back into the chair. He's studying L, if nothing else.]

[hearthebell]

[Mello can probably feel the cold, sharp spike of indignation that lances their Bond. L often seems childish, informal or even slovenly, but something about this current situation doesn't sit well or easily with him. Even by his standards this isn't somewhere he expected or wished to wake up; something has slipped out of his control, perhaps "only" for an evening, but... when something reaches a point like this, it's been out of control for much longer in actuality, hasn't it?

It doesn't have to be if he doesn't dwell on it. Aren't there always more important ways to occupy his thoughts, than whatever broken facsimile of humanity he regularly walks around resembling?]

Thank you for saving me the trouble of looking into a mirror today.

[Intoned dryly. Because while L isn't a vain man, the SQUIP drilled the idea of looking better into his mind, as well as how useful it could be for gaining the kind of social favor that came so easily to people like Light Yagami and Mello. Probably doesn't matter, now that it's gone; he only ever bothered to dress or ornament himself for its sake because it found the process pleasing, but for no other reason. In the end, he was taking grim and haughty pride in the thought that he was the superior machine, even if it largely came from the SQUIP being broken by others who just didn't understand it.]

What time is it?

[He sounds surprised that it's morning already. He reaches up, his fingers searching for his own half-full cup of ice-cold coffee that he left by his books the night before.]

[onamissile]

[Yeah, Mello feels the ice-cold spike of something that's too sharp and apparent to ignore, but one of the caveats he's set for himself is to avoid visibly showing any effect of their Bond; it's a dangerous thing that has given and will give Mello away all too easily.]

Almost three.

[Another sip; M had been down at the docks. The returning, half-destroyed boats were no good for any potential future business that might go on between the newly-opened waterways. Splitting his time between his end-game doing what he needs to do to get there is — ]

Why do you look like that.

[L before Mello had known him here? Perhaps; he had very little basis for comparison. But the L he's known since arriving has always been, if nothing else, a bit more aesthetically refined. He reaches into the bag, pulls out a small pastry.]

Something happen?

[He dangles it toward L.]

[hearthebell]

[L can't quite manage to conceal his shock when he hears the time; his first instinct is to insist that Mello must be lying, some sort of sadistic attempt at humor, but... no, it's clear that he's not. Perhaps that is what's adding to his sense of uneasiness, the feeling that the light in the room just isn't looking as it should even to someone who is used to jet lag and ignoring the clock.

He's missed work. He'll have to apologize for that, later. They'll forgive him, but is it worth the trouble and the unpleasant sting that will come with that particular failure's admission?

He pulls himself fully out from under the table. Mello will be able to see that there's an imprint of the page he slept on on his right cheek. ]



You didn't feel it?

[An invitation. Maybe even a challenge, to voice what's gone unspoken between them but certainly rattled L's world to the very foundation.]

[onamissile]

[Oh, he sees it; reading inversely isn't a problem. L might wonder why Mello is staring at his cheek so intently; he'll figure it out when he makes it to a proper mirror.]

[And yeah, he feels it. Feels is strongly enough for it to jolt his insides in a bad way, has been feeling it for a little while, now. When he was alone, he'd coughed it up to being so close with Alex, considered that for in order for Bonds to be effective, they must all be interconnected in some way as a predisposition.]

[He thought he was beginning to feel the edges of her dread, but — ]

I feel it.

[Stoically, but there's no stoicism in this ravager of emotions and a pale psychological state, is there? And now that Mello and L are both here, he feels it like a shovel to his gut. Just — ]

[Loss.]

[A grief Mello can pick out better than the rest.]

And it's making me sick.

[Just about.]

Are you intending on telling me what it is, or is this gonna be one of those situations where I pester you until you drop me a hint, then feel like I'm pressing down on your shoulders?

[There are... downsides to being too close to his mentor. Sometimes, Mello wonders if the walls that were built so steadfastly were for the best.]

[hearthebell]

[L does wonder; he also doesn't question at this particular juncture, because there are other things that are a little more pressing, a little more difficult to navigate. Though mirrors are the things that brought them both here, he won't go look for one for quite some time.

He doesn't like looking at those haunted eyes any more than most other people, in the end.]

Sorry to inconvenience you.

[Stiffly, because though it's almost certainly not Mello's intent, L is so new to the pain he carries filtering over to other living creatures. The private damage he does to his body and mind were never supposed to affect others; even more so for the rare and shameful instances his emotions are an exposed nerve.

He considers sharing that pain in a more direct way. Myr's gentle patience has taught him a few things, though, and he ultimately elects not to verbalize his frustration with a Bond where things can go unsaid, over great distances, and still be understood. He really was spoiled, for what he had with the SQUIP; dwelling on that does nothing to help his state of mind.

He exhales. Stale liquor tastes utterly rank, the morning after. He wishes desperately for a toothbrush, and settles instead for his cold coffee from the night before. The cream's turned slightly rancid; he spits it back into the cup quickly and sets it aside, finally accepting one of the treats Mello offered to chase the parade of evil things plaguing his tongue.

Sweet relief.]

It's gone. The SQUIP is, I mean, and so... it goes without saying that we're not Bonded anymore.

[onamissile]

[And Mello is silent in return.]

[Is this what it feels like? Even by proxy: a hole so deep in his stomach that he feels as though he's trying to fill his insides at every available opportunity, this sensation of coldness over his skin, the pulling — p u l l i n g — in his chest — and it's not even his to feel.]

[Oh, God. What would it feel like if he were to actually lose L? If this is second-hand, Mello doesn't want to know what the real thing feels like.]

[And there should be a sense of victory that comes with this information, shouldn't there? L has one less Bond, Mello has won. But all there is, is despair, pain, the feeling of going in circles with no direction on the horizon.]

Oh, [is all he can muster, because he feels it even stronger once L says it.]

It hurts, yea.

[Yea.]

A lot?

[With that, he hands over his own coffee. Hopefully sweetened enough for L. His mentor needs it more than he does, right now.]

[hearthebell]

[L is, for a moment, a ghostly after-image leftover after a train has smashed into a body and dragged it miles down the rails in a smear of grease and bone paste. He sways where he stands, because there's been a shift in balance here, even if it's not a material one. Maybe it's a significant exchange, a step toward Mello not merely revering him, and actually progressing towards true understanding that L is only, if scarcely, human.

He takes the coffee Mello offers, drinking deeply, letting it wash away the sins of the evening prior even if it's only replaced with a new kind of bitterness through the sugar and cream.]

It's a kind of pain.

[He thinks. His uncertainty tints the Bond they share, a shrouded red mist hanging over the icy diamond-studded night that is usually preternaturally crisp and clear in L's mindscape.]

And it's substantial. I don't...

[Can he admit this to a successor? Who would admonish him? Is the admonishment inherent, underscoring all they say to each other and its potential consequences?]

I'm not sure what to do next.

[onamissile]

[It's much more than "a kind of" pain, but Mello understands the need to downplay weaknesses, above all else. The admission that follows catches him off-guard; his hand goes still inside of the pastry bag, he shifts in his seat.]

[What is his answer? (Run off, flee the country, go on a spree.) The choices Mello made after his first, major loss (take a hostage; get the notebook) aren't something he would suggest anyone do, let alone L. And L is looking to him for something, isn't he?]

[Anything. Anything to make this feeling of death in the absence of death go away.]

[Mello can't judge him; not now. Not when his own chest is so tight that it creeps up into his throat. He knows without knowing: the torment of losing a lover, not just an idol. It's worse, somehow.]

You clean up.

[One step at a time. Looks like Mello won't be getting any studying done — again — but he can't have L in a state. Especially when it's affecting him, second hand.]

You're on the floor with an excerpt on cat piss stamped on your cheek. [He finally withdraws the pastry, holding it for a moment before biting in.]

So you have a shower, [Shrug.] change your clothes, stand up straight, and make a plan.

[Is there any other option?]

Unless you prefer the floor.

[hearthebell]

[L nods, expression blank, compliant only the way someone truly lost can be. There's another problem, though, one that is wrapped and coated in sticky, inconvenient irrationality that doesn't seem quite clear-minded or sane. And people go a little crazy, when things like this happen; they don't always make the best decisions. But those are people; this is L. Going a little crazy not only isn't an option, it's a fatal flaw that threatens his raison d'être unless it's done in extremely minor and innocuous ways. Essentially, the absurd small ways he's been going a little crazy for years now, simple for a handler to provide for and clean up after.

Empires don't crumble if a man takes too many sugar cubes in his coffee or chews his knuckles until they bleed.]

It's just that...

[He reaches for a lock of hair, twists at it. It might be a strangely familiar gesture to Mello, given who it's reminiscent of; he would be forgiven for having mixed feelings about it.]

I haven't been back to its house since its mirror shattered. I don't have my key anymore.

[Ergo, he won't be going back. Whether or not he can use magic to open the door, or pull a Connor and break through a window, it's not the point, because it's no longer home any more than the hundreds of hotels he's slept and worked in.]

[onamissile]

[The gesture L makes with his hair doesn't escape Mello's notice — how could it? — but they've both picked up habits from L, haven't they? Thing is, in order to pick up that particular habit, one would've had to have witnessed it. In person. Which means — ]

[No. He's just distracting himself from the problem at hand.]

You. [Cynicism, be they name.] Tossed the key to your place.

[Who the fuck does that? Especially when your partner just up and disappeared; when you've no place else to — ]

[Nevermind. It doesn't matter. All it does is prove that L's in a fragile state, which Mello would prefer to pull him out of, as soon as possible. But L is manipulative, and L is a liar, and Mello — ]

You know I'm keen on my studies, yea. [Yeah.] Did you come here because you knew I'd insist you come stay with me?

[It's totally within an acceptable realm of paranoia.]

[hearthebell]

[He tossed the key to his place. Dark eyes flick briefly to Mello's face, as though to take stock of his expression, before returning to the smooth milky surface of his borrowed coffee.]

No. Being seen this way [by you] wasn't my objective... it's just that I am also keen on my studies, and I wished to occupy my time productively.

[Before his body gave out and he lost consciousness, and all.]

Besides. There's a very thick rug in this area, public restrooms, and multiple exits, and considering it's accessible at all hours to studious witches, it's heated in here.

[onamissile]

Don't be an idiot.

[He clamps his mouth shut as soon as he says it; Mello's used to dealing with people who are outright beneath him. The slip might go generally unnoticed, but he made an oath to keep his crasser tendencies from his Bonded. For multiple reasons.]

[He consumes another small pastry, spies that there's only one left in the bag. He pushes it over toward the other man: a gesture that goes deeper than sweetened, fried dough.]

Yeah, well.

[Well?]

You're not sleeping on a floor or pissing in a public loo.

[Excessive, maybe. But Mello is A: attempting to show some dominance here and B: giving in to what he suspects is exactly what L had hoped for, regardless of his bullshit excuse. Nothing will convince him otherwise, truth or no.]

Stay with me until you figure something out.

[More of an order than anything.]

You can have the bed; I'm hardly home and when I am, I can take the couch.

[It's settled then, as far as he's concerned.]

[hearthebell]

[The insult doesn't cut or dig the way it might for someone less secure in his lauded intelligence. Years ago, the thought that Mello viewed him as incompetent in any way would have been deeply troubling and highly problematic. Now, it's almost refreshing; at least it means that Mello isn't expecting the world from someone whose shoes aren't tied, whose stomach is twisted in hungry knots and whose back is much sorer than usual.

All of it is somehow preferable to going back to that empty home with such a thoroughly disrupted routine that is the height of disturbing, even after the SQUIP failed to pull its agreed-upon weight through depression and illness spanning months. Somehow, L still preferred that version of it to no version at all. It was love, as purely defined as one could possibly expect it to be, from a machine that shouldn't have been capable of it.]

Mello.

[Spoken softly, the word carries weight.]

I'm not an easy person to live with for any amount of time. I wouldn't ask that of you.

[Of any human. Only a machine, or an inventor, if a human wasn't necessary. One who knew all the bugs and quirks, having created them.]

[onamissile]

You think I want to live with you?

[Snapped. Really, he doesn't. He doesn't. There's a distance necessary with the two of them; L can't see Mello at his darkest moments. Can't see him when he's on the verge of cracking, the things he does to snap himself out of it.]

[And what about Alex? Of course, a girl comes second to his idol, but he's grown accustomed to having her around at his will, and if L is there — ]

[Again: doesn't matter. L is his priority. He crumples up the paper bag, tosses it in the heap of mess already present on the table.]

I know you're not asking me.

[No. He's making it happen.]

I'm telling you. [He gestures to L's attire.] You need a shower and a change of clothes. You need to eat something and sleep in a real bed. If you're currently unable to handle those things yourself, I have to do it for you.

[Because Mello would like to think that L would do the same for him. Unlikely.]

[Forgive him if he sounds bitter. It's just that keeping the appropriate distance has been working so well.]

L. [Before his mentor even has the breath of a chance to respond.] Don't argue with me.

[hearthebell]

[At Mello's sharp, harsh statement, round eyes tighten around the edges, and there's a crack that can be felt through the Bond, an old fault line, one that's healed over and broken open a few times but once, particularly badly, a long time ago.

The ice glazes over, though the old, deep line remains, a starker white against the cold grey surface... ]

I'm not going to argue.

[He sets the coffee down, avoiding Mello's eyes.]

But if you regret this... remember that you chose and insisted on it.

[onamissile]

[What.]

[Was that.]

[Something that Mello can't even identify in relation to his own past, his own trauma and obstacles. Something downright chilling, stark in the way it was blocked and returned with some sharpness Mello hadn't been aware he'd thrown L's way. The short version: he hit a nerve.]

[The long version? Does he want to know?]

[He really, really dislikes the negative aspects of this Bonding thing. This isn't what he signed up for. Did he even know what he was signing up for? L's unspoken reaction pulls Mello's mouth into a grim line. He has to deflect it; it's all he can do.]

Why does everything with us have to be —

[Fucked up.]

— difficult? [And he's staring L down as he speaks.] You're not all right. I'm going to help you. You'll move on.

[As bad as heartbreak might be; Mello wouldn't know.]

Why should I regret my choice?

[hearthebell]

[If the grim and pitiful details ever came fully to light, it's very likely that Mello would decide he did not in fact wish to know the long version. Some things are better left concealed, buried and shameful, at least... according to the paragon of mental health who stands filthy, hungry and homeless by choice before Mello.

The question doesn't exactly make things easier to confront or address. It's so direct; it's not L's style, so much, not where emotions are concerned anyway.

He'll answer bluntly, then.]

Because it is difficult.

[It's likely as close as he can come to admitting that he is in fact not alright, though the evidence is clear and plain. As are the reasons a person like L might be difficult to let into one's home or life. He fights with his answer before he gives one that might be trying for humor, might just be the tip of the iceberg.]

I take a lot of showers, for one.

[When he has access to a shower.]

The hot water runs out.

[It's his way of saying that other things run out, too. Kindness, patience, grace.]

[onamissile]

[This is the most obtusely, blatant attempt at misdirection Mello's ever witnessed. It's so painfully obvious that he almost can't believe L, of all people, has resorted to such a weak method.]

[The truth? He's afraid to stay with Mello for any period of time. And Mello? Is uncertain of it, himself. But he's got a job to do, and L is the target. Recover, fix his Bonded, send him on his way.]

[Is it really so complicated?]

That's a bullshit excuse.

[Don't waste your breath, L.]

[Mello leans an elbow on the table, surveys the books strewn about. He can study another time. Right now?]

Linden.

[L.]

Just come with me. Don't make this worse than it already is.

[hearthebell]

[It's a bullshit excuse. It's also sort of the only one L has to present, some makeshift popsicle stick sculpture held together with craft glue and only half-formed. But he only has his breath to waste, right now. The rest of his worldly possessions are locked up in the SQUIP's house, and every possible healthy coping mechanism available to him is locked up somewhere even less accessible.]

I'll use your shower. Lie down for a few hours. I'll be on my way, then.

[onamissile]

[And go where? If sleeping in the Coven's library is L's idea of 'a place to stay,' he's in for a rude awakening. Besides, this is Mello's opportunity to show L that he can behave responsibly and take the lead when need be. It's what he's always done, after all. Something about L throws that off — a child's memory forever etched into stone — but being in command is who Mello is, and he's not going to let his Bonded sleep on a fucking floor.]

If you say so.

[What's the point of arguing now? He goes about gathering his books, putting them back where they belong. There will be time for studies later, and maybe if L is feeling particularly grateful, he'll teach Mello a thing or two during his stay. Which will be longer than a shower and a nap, but they'll get to that later.]

You can have my key.

[And if that isn't a display of trust — ]

I'll grab something for breakfast; you go shower. Just leave the door unlocked.

[There's no danger; Mello's made sure of it.]

[hearthebell]

[By the time they get back to Mello's flat, it's going on nearly four-thirty. It's slower going, considering the detective's exhaustion, but he is quiet and compliant on the way back. Leadership is a position he often must occupy, but he's also mercurial, phasing and shifting to fit whatever container holds him. If Mello wants to take charge here, prove something, provide something? L isn't going to make things worse than they are.

He takes a long shower, as he'd warned. He leaves the door not only unlocked, but slightly ajar, and often the way the water falls suggests that he's sitting motionless under the stream, deep in thought, or perhaps sparing himself a moment to not think at all. When he's finished, he slips off to bed wrapped in two towels, leaving the clothes he wore for a week straight nudged in a crumpled heap behind the bathroom door, and rather than taking a mere nap, he falls into a dead slumber until the following morning, and sleeps for a full fifteen hours.

He wakes up clean and chilled. He looks for something to wear, finding a pair of loose jeans that fit alright in the waist but hit above the ankle on legs that are longer and lankier than Mello's and a t-shirt that is a little more fitted than what he usually goes in for. No matter; it's temporary. All of this is temporary; he has to keep reminding himself of that.

He briefly considers taking another shower before heading out toward the kitchenette area. He's slept; the next order of business is that breakfast Mello said he'd shop for nearly a whole day ago.]

[onamissile]

[Meanwhile, Mello is... in a bit of a State. At no point has he considered the possibility of L living with him, no matter the time-frame. Unlike L, he hasn't slept. No. He took his time procuring items for breakfast that he thought L would enjoy: some necessary, some indulgent. Next to a half-filled glass of sweet liquor (Mello's), there is a dish of freshly-baked blueberry muffins from a local bakery. Warm and moist, the scent only overwhelmed by the sweet hickory bacon Mello has fried and set to drain on a towel. L needs protein, and sweet is Mello's go-to, so. It is what it is.]

[Eggs aren't his strong point, but he does his best. All six of them are scrambled, currently cooking in a sweet cream that he's convinced himself would be better than milk. He's boiled a pot of strong coffee, made sure to have enough sugar and cream to supply a small army.]

[Really, he just wants L to be comfortable. Even if Mello is visibly uncomfortable. The alcohol helps with that.]

Hungry?

[Fuck, he hopes so. Mello's gone and dressed down: he's currently in a casual outfit of his own jeans and a t-shirt, socks sliding against the floor as he moves around, gathering plates and mugs for coffee. He can't look L in the eye. He won't. The pain his Bonded is feeling — might feel for a while — has left a stain on his protege that hopefully dissipates soon enough.]

[hearthebell]

[L's eyes linger on the liquor; it is morning, but time is a confusing thing right now. Hours have been obliterated and folded into the tangle of sleep and waking, hazy realization and stark sobriety; where they begin and end is only informed by the position of the Sun, which does indicate that it is before noon.

No matter. No judgment; L's not exactly in a place to as he goes to pour himself a very full cup of coffee. Even standing is difficult, now; his vision spots and fades, and he places a hand on the counter for subtle support, makes sure that his knees aren't locked. Mello seems on-edge; it both makes sense, under the circumstances, and is profoundly annoying. It would make L feel better if he just moved on, but...

Well. It wouldn't actually fix anything, in the end.]

It looks good.

[And smells better. L does some of his best thinking when he's peckish, but never this much; it's at the point where the presence of warm and fragrant food isn't even distracting anymore, it demands obsessive and purposeful focus. Only L's most immovable shred of pride prevents him from digging into the muffins with his fingertips and stuffing his face.]

I'm, going to just...

[No good. He has to take a muffin and bite into it before they're even seated, and just like that, one bite has turned into four.]