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]

[So, neither of them have a clear concept of the thing that makes people so irrationally self-destructive. Misa Amane devoted her life to the concept of love, and whether it's understood as an impossible draw to a like mind, or mere pheromones crushing bodies together for the ultimate purpose of procreation or pleasure, men like them should be above such a thing. L suspects that it's at least what Mello expected of him, and yet again, his chest is tight, crushed under the weight of the larger-than-life marble statue erected in his successor's mind.

He's running out of stores to draw from, in the never-ending task that is not disappointing Mello. All for it, then.]

There's probably a way.

[But as he raises his eyes towards Mello's once more, there's cold steel in them. Something about the suggestion, as well-meant as it may have been, has been taken as an affront.]

But it's out of the question. Whatever this is, it's mine. Nothing productive would come from you adopting it as your own without bearing witness to its inception.

[He sets his plate in the sink, eggs precisely 50% eaten.]

In fact, I can only see scenarios where it would cause more damage to one or both of us. Pain isn't equal to start with; you could feel it intensely and be debilitated by it. Or you could feel a fraction of what I do with no proper context, and, through no fault of your own, trivialize everything I'm carrying.

[Obviously, egos are at risk, regardless of what happens.]

At best, empathy might be manufactured through the endeavor... but when I said that I hurt myself for the SQUIP, I didn't mean for you to do the same for me. It would prove nothing.

[onamissile]

I'm not trying to fucking prove anything.

[The snap comes without much effort; Mello is a bit more loose than he would normally appear. His intention to never debase himself around L has gone the way of fairytales with how he behaved during their encounter. If he doesn't know the entire scope of it, L has to have a pretty good idea of what Mello is, by now.]

[He glances at the plate, the eggs. The garbage bin is right there, but he'll clean up after this. For now.]

[The thing is: Mello has experienced so much pain that he knows something as fragile as heartbreak is something that would only leave the smallest wound. If he can take that from his mentor, take the wound that is consuming him and make it but a scratch on his own being, why not do it?]

[If he's proving anything, it's loyalty. But he sees it in L's eyes, in that stare that should be reserved for enemies: he's perceiving this differently. Mello doesn't want to take the SQUIP away from his mentor. Just the aftermath.]

[He shrugs; what else can he do?]

I don't give a shit about empathy.

[How could he?]

It's consuming you to where it's threatening to consume me, because of the way you're handling it. Give it to me; it means nothing. I'll swallow it and it'll be gone, and neither of us will have to feel it anymore.

[Makes perfect sense, as far as Mello's concerned.]

There has to be something within the Healing realm. Something strong enough to eradicate pain at the cost of the caster. If there were no price, something of this magnitude would be impossible.

[Staring into his glass as he speaks.]

But if there's a trade involved —

[Light, blurred eyes glance up at his Bonded.]

Don't reject me. I'm offering you peace. Don't pretend you don't want it.

[hearthebell]

[L blinks, taken aback but not particularly surprised. Mello is drinking, and volatile even without alcohol. His mentor is challenging him in the way he least enjoys. This was coming.

He bites his tongue on the obvious solution. Breaking the Bond has never been an acceptable option to Mello, in spite of their strife. That's not going to change now; in fact, he'll take more strife on just to preserve what he covets even if it's in name only.]

It seems you're already swallowing it. If what you're feeling secondhand means nothing, why are you drinking at this hour?

[The liquor is almost as hard as L's eyes.]

There's only one state of true peace and neither of us want it. This hurts, but living is like that, and if it's too much for you, you'd better get me a glass as well.

[onamissile]

[Why is he drinking at this hour? Mello has always rejected being off his head; there's too much to accomplish. Always has been. Even now, he has things he needs to do, and he's drowning anxieties and emotions with a dark, sweet liquor. It's pathetic. It's what men lesser than him do.]

I feel it because you feel it.

[And that's the fucking truth.]

If it's my burden to bear, it would be different. I would be able to approach it differently knowing that it wasn't affecting you in any way.

[Still, he goes about pouring L a glass. Half-full; nothing indulgent. He clinks the bottom of it against the counter, slides it over as though he were at work serving a patron.]

Nothing is too much for me.

[Grave.]

Except for the task of getting you to trust me.

[When he looks at L now, his eyes are clear. Determined.]

Let me. This isn't about you. [He pauses, takes another sip. It goes to his head rather quickly.] I'll find a way. Never doubt that.

[hearthebell]

What you feel is diluted.

[L's tone is firm, steadfast. Their Bond, as much as Mello might wish to believe otherwise, is not strong enough to give the boy pure unfiltered access to L beneath the ice.]

Who in their right mind would give you the full dose, knowing how you're handling what you already have?

[It's already too much for you. He takes the liquor Mello offers him, tilting it back deliberately, recklessly. It'll go to his head fast.]

Get it straight. Do you want pain, or silence? You can only have one.

[onamissile]

[There are moments of silence — long moments — where Mello just stares L down, analyzing his motivations, breaking down his reasoning to the finest detail. And what he comes up with is — ]

[This is L's burden. This is L's pain. It's his, and it's not about their trust at all, is it? No. It's something L needs to feel in order to complete whatever process he's going through, and he thinks Mello is trying to steal it from him.]

[But he's not. Oh, he's not.]

I don't want silence.

[Because that? Is more than pain. It's the greatest pain known to man.]

I want to steal your suffering from you and deal with it on my terms.

[Sentimental as it might be. He refills his own glass. This will be the last. Any more, and he'll be borderline incoherent.]

I want — I need — you to be okay. Do you need to understand why? Do you need me to explain it to you?

[Because he will, right now. At length. And it's not something he thinks L wants to hear.]

[hearthebell]

[His answering stare is level and cold, remaining so even as the hard, tense lines of his face begin to relax. The cognac will make everything softer, begin to dissolve the barriers that he keeps in place intentionally, and Mello may find that though he has begged with and without words for such a thing, he may grow quickly to hate it.]

You're not a fool, so why do you think you can steal from me?

[It's mine.]

If you never suffer, you never grow, and if you never grow, you never get stronger. Find your own suffering so we can both survive this place.

[onamissile]

[To say that L's reaction is overblown would be an understatement; doesn't L understand? — Mello is trying to help him, and his mentor responds with nothing short of hostility. His protege' isn't trying to take anything from him; can't L see?]

[The anger rolls off of his mentor and onto — into — Mello as something tangible. This is the price of the Bond, this is the price of bindng himself to his idol; Mello is learning this more and more at time goes on.]

[His initial reaction is quiet, wide-eyed. That L would imply that Mello wanted to steal anything from him is absurd. He views his protege' as an Enemy, and Mello is more than taken aback by the idea.]

[He shifts, runs an index along the outer rim of his glass as he assesses the other. L is on the defense shrouded in the offense, and Mello isn't a fucking idiot.]

Tell me why you distrust me so much.

[Casual.]

When all I've ever done was want to know you.

[hearthebell]

[As a living exaggeration of L's more incendiary elements, wasn't it only a matter of time before things reached a head with Mello? And they're both drinking, now, exacerbating the rapidly escalating dynamic. Because if Mello ever thought that L didn't feel, that he was too strong to feel? He's going to learn, the hard way, that there are eyeless horrors with shredding teeth under the ice, fleeing prey that know only fear, searing and visceral and constant... and this brutal cycle has been going on long before the SQUIP ever entered L's life. It's ingrained, simply a part of how his brain works, and now there is blood in the water.]

I distrust you because you're a liar, like me.

[Some skeletal eel-wraith strikes from the blackest depths. It retreats, but isn't gone.]

You don't want to know me, because it would make what you really want impossible.

[Down here, under the crushing weight of all this dark water, there is still so much that Mello can't see. Hunger and rage thrum and pierce; something huge uses echolocation to draw nearer, size up its prey. It doesn't know how to give, or receive, or make sense of love. It knows only consumption and lonely expansion as it gluts itself and dreams of the next feeding.]

[onamissile]

[Well, that shuts Mello right up, doesn't it? Will he deny it? Lie and claim that he's not inherently the worst type of liar? The type that would twist the truth to fit his agenda, even with someone he trusts and respects.]

[L just called him on his shit, and there isn't a thing Mello can do about it. What he's being told is a reflection of his fears when he first encountered L-who-wasn't-L in that forest: he was so afraid that his mentor would know him.]

[Even now, indignant thing that he is. Mello's natural response is, I don't care, but he swallows it down with yet another sip of cognac. They're all like this, aren't they? So damaged, so terrified to bare their bones to anyone. Anyone.]

[No, Mello will never truly have what he wants. Because that would require both of them being someone they're not.]

If I'm a liar like you say,

[As though the idea is preposterous.]

why did you agree to the Bond? What can we build if we can't trust each other?

[hearthebell]

[There's a bolstering swell of heat and light, propelling Mello back toward the icy surface. If he's lucky, he won't be disoriented, and his blood won't bubble up and burst his veins.

But at least that huge, hungry thing resting its bulk on the shifting sands of the floor won't devour him. It's what passes for mercy from the detective. Beyond it? This pale, brittle thing that's all hollow darkness in his eyes has little else to offer.]

I agreed to the Bond because I can handle a liar. But only one who can still recognize the truth when it's looking him in the face.

[onamissile]

[Unlike Mello remembers — what is an effigy to a breathing thing — L is so palpable. His words, his mannerisms. Maybe it's the Bond; maybe it's not: the turmoil isn't his to feel.]

[Only it is. Because he'd agreed to this, hadn't he? He signed up for this, ran in blind with the confidence of armies, and now?]

[Regret is a strong word.]

So tell me the truth.

[And maybe his bitterness puts a copper taste on L's tongue for just a moment.]

For once.

[hearthebell]

[L exhales past the tang of a fresh wound. In the presence of such raw pain, so many things blur together. When he's both a victim and a monster standing here in Mello's kitchen, what can he say about evidence that is clear one moment and conflicts the next?]

Words are only the most obvious and pedestrian part of any truth.

[Or any lie.]

I'm not asking you to parse it or even to acknowledge it. Just to see it, and eliminate the impossible.

[Living with L, like Bonding with L, will be more than Mello bargained for. He'll witness things he never wanted to, fall victim to tangled messy webs that L spins needlessly around even the mundane and simple matters. Accepting that he's a fallible human being is really the least of it all.]

[onamissile]

[Mello knows these truths; they've become apparent rather quickly. L eternally feels turmoil: even more so than Mello, himself. He feels apathy, he tenses at the most common of interactions. L is a fucking mess, but he's Mello's fucking mess, and he's brilliant, and he's powerful even if he doesn't appear so right now.]

[No. Mello made the proper choice. It's just going to require more personal investment than he'd guessed.]

[Actions speak louder than words; couldn't L have just said that? No, because he's L, and Mello's expression softens. There is no stand-off here. There shouldn't be: he's doing his best to make L comfortable in an alien situation.]

I'm going to take care of you.

[A promise he's never made to anyone. Because Mello does not nurture. Anything.]

Until this passes. [The pain. The empty death.] It's all I have to give that will potentially convince you that I'm not out to take you for anything.

[Except: he is. He wants L's power and intellectual prowess on his side.]

[hearthebell]

[L listens intently, to the words on the surface and then far deeper, practicing what he's preaching and looking at the sum of what Mello's presenting rather than the parts.

Ultimately, he decides that he's satisfied with the picture the truth is telling him, and he nods his shaggy head in acceptance and surrender.]

I'm going to do things that don't make sense to you, and have no underlying meaning. I'm going to frustrate and disappoint you most of the time, and maybe, four or five percent of the time, I'll give you what you want. Can you live with that?

[If so, I will try to let you convince me.]

[onamissile]

[L is a shit Bond; Mello is already aware. As is he, as far as he can tell. He's never done this before; it was never in the cards. Things like loyalty and commitment beyond necessary goals are alien to him. But he's doing his best, even if he's downing his nth glass of cognac while the sun is high in the sky, and shoving food at L as though that's the answer to the heartbreak that's so tangible that Mello can feel it second hand and understand the pain of it, completely.]

You're trying to talk me out of it.

[Or being painfully honest. Mello honestly doesn't know. He finishes off the glass before immediately going for the bottle to refill it, eyes his mentor's glass to see if he needs to be topped off. Being a bartender has created certain, worthless habits.]

Like your Doe.

[Yes, this is coming up now.]

Is that the goal, L? [Distracted, he runs the tip of his index along the rim of his glass.]

Are the two of you trying to get me to walk without a war?

[And in a moment of utter vulnerability.]

Do you regret our Bond?

[God, don't destroy him. Just don't.]

[hearthebell]

[It takes him a moment to figure out what Mello means by "doe"; when it clicks, his eyes widen, and his wan face grows just a shade paler. While it would be subtle, for most, it passes for wearing his heart on his sleeve, for L.]

Mello.

[His voice is low, serious.]

There's no war, nor any reason for one, outside of what you create. I don't believe that anyone who truly wanted to protect me would pursue that course of action... but you have to believe that there are things he can teach me, uniquely, and that I need them.

[A pause.]

I have regrets; my Bond with you isn't one of them.

[But the stars, that night. They were so sharp and clear. They sang promises and peace that only L could hear as his feet lifted from the ground, and he can't remember how it all went, exactly. It's infuriatingly vague, hardly proportionate to the amount of time he spends thinking about it. But Myr could not only access it, but calm and quiet it, and withdraw with L's feet grounded and stable like any other human's.

Can Mello understand, for even a moment, how being grounded might be a good thing for a mortal?]

[onamissile]

[My Bond with you isn't one of them. That's all Mello needs. All he needs for confirmation. There was a short period of time where he considered — for a moment — that L had put Myr up to that confrontation so he wouldn't have to do it, himself. They use people; that's just what they do.]

[But he only nods at the confirmation, considers the ramifications of having L around all of the time. There's Alex, there's his attempt to break into the local criminal empire, there are things about him that L doesn't need to see, let alone experience.]

I know you don't care for me.

[That's the cognac speaking, but it's true.]

That you're afraid that I'm similar to Beyond, that you told me that particular story for a reason. [The smallest pause as he sips] I know you're afraid of me, and what I'll do if you reject me.

[And fuck, if that admission doesn't set him aflame.]

I'm not stupid, L. But you're wrong.

[Such conviction.]

I'm nothing like him, and I would never hurt you. I'll get a Monster bond; something to balance me. It's logical.

[None of this matters to his idol, does it?]

You're —

[Hesitation, even in his alcohol-induced haze.]

— everything to me. Your well-being is my priority.

[Finally, he looks up from the glass.]

Do you believe me?

[hearthebell]

[Increasingly, L realizes that he is speaking to an unfiltered version of Mello that is informed more by alcohol than by wisdom. He has no space to criticize it, not when he was off his head so recently due to the substance... but it throws things into sharper and harsher relief to see some uncharitable version of what he thinks and feels flung back at him.

It's not a perfect reflection, just as they don't share a perfect Bond... but some of it slots seamlessly into place. L's fears, specifically, are things that Mello insists on with such passionate conviction that he must know they aren't unfounded.

Is his resonation with Myr so strong because the faun doesn't ask him to be some final, definite answer to all of the universe's endless questions? Even the gentlest and kindest presences in L's life have demanded the impossible from him, moving the goalpost when he managed and feeling outrage and despair when he failed.

And of course, none of them were as harsh or demanding as L himself, in the end.]

I don't know.

[It's possibly the most honest thing L has said in recent memory, and it is in full agreement with every shift in his body language, tone and expression. His back forms a question mark; his eyes are tense around the edges.]

It isn't your fault. I know that you believe it, but... being "well" has never been a priority for either of us.

[Can they even define it, much less aspire to it for themselves or each other?]

Maybe I'm to blame.

[onamissile]

No.

[No. L isn't to blame. They were all raised on the premise that paranoia equaled safety, and it's going to take decades and decades to relieve that stain. And it might be true, really. Who are they to trust? Outsiders? Each other, when they are all aware that self-preservation is the key to survival? Mello understands. He doesn't like it, but he understands.]

You're not to blame. It's how we are.

I want to protect you.

[A hubris-filled admission as he takes another sip.]

When I was a kid, I pictured it in the opposite, yea. [He's done with the food. There's nothing appetizing here. Instead he pushes the bottle of cognac towards L so he can refill when he sees fit.]

And you think my intentions are outwardly noble, but you're afraid that I'll take it too far. Fuck it all up when it comes down to the line.

[Offensive, really.]

Your Doe. [He says it with a sneer.] Do you trust him?

[Because Mello? Just don't let things go. Ever.]

[hearthebell]

[The cognac is a relief, an excuse, a pardon. L reaches for it without hesitating, topping off his glass though he hasn't even finished what's currently in it. Sweet ruin, with a bite to it... just like his flaxen-haired successor, near enough to close hands around his neck should he wish to, should protection cease to be his primary motive.

Because really, L does believe that Mello will take everything to a destructive extreme. He's the child who clutches a sick sparrow too tightly, drowning it with an eyedropper with the very best of intentions.]

Yes. I do.

[L does not deign to comment on Mello's derisive nickname for Myr, the childish way he invokes it to soothe his own raging insecurity.]

He built it in pieces, as one builds a dwelling, and not a monument. He'd kill or die for me, and I'd grieve both of those things, knowing the value he places even on an enemy's life.

[onamissile]

[Offense taken. Mello would die for L, without a question. Has died for L in a future of which he's unaware, for a cause that he attributed entirely to his mentor, even if it was all a fucking lie.]

[But Myr is a gentle thing; even when he attempted to threaten Mello, he was gentle in his approach. Mello would have taken much more extreme measures, let his opponent know exactly where he'd gone wrong before Mello slit his throat, but Myr?]

[Cared.]

[And that's the thing that throws Mello off-kilter. He wants an enemy. Someone who means L harm, along with himself. Someone he can brand something to take down with no complications.]

[He notes L refilling his glass. It makes M both feel at ease and as though he's the reason L must resort to other measures to deal with their predicament.]

Would you grieve me?

[Spoken before Mello can think.]

I'm asking you for one reason.

[A thousand reasons.]

If you wouldn't grieve me, we've nothing to fight for, here.

[Right before he busies himself with getting the dirty plates in order as though he ere closing at the Sly Seadog. Methodical.]

Do you want me to walk

[No rising inflection. Matter-of-fact. He's currently holding a dish beneath scalding hot water]

[hearthebell]

[L raises the glass to his lips, ready to undo the fleeting wholesomeness of the eggs with a taste of acrid oblivion. He stops mid-sip at Mello's question, and further explanation of it, turning it counterclockwise in his thin hands.]

I would. That was true even before we Bonded.

[He doesn't say that he had grieved A, and B. Would grieve Light, should he pass before L (though he clearly had not.]

Does that mean the same to you as caring, or feeling affection for you?

[He does not want Mello to walk. In fact, he reaches to turn the tap to lukewarm, noticing the steam, feeling the burn through their Bond.

[onamissile]

[There's nothing affectionate in that, no. Only a sense of responsibility on L's part that would be expected of anyone rational in his position. Mello doesn't know whether he wants affection — probably doesn't — and caring is something reserved for a life the two of them haven't lived.]

No.

[He answers simply, and he won't look L in the eye when he says it. Wants nothing to do with the rejected intimacy, here. Whether or not it was initiated on Mello's part in any way is up in the air, but he moves away from the sink, opting to go to the freezer for some ice to add to the cognac.]

You're reading too much into this, [He lies, because what else can Mello do?] and I think that your suspicions of my intentions are making you assume paranoid things.

[Lies mixed with truths; Mello's never been noble.]

[hearthebell]

[L really doesn't believe that he's reading too much into the situation. He also knows that Mello's aversion to losing face goes beyond what most people could live with, so he's willing to let the boy have this one. Much the way he'd put his mouth on Mello, when the boy all but begged for sexual contact, but never removed his own pants.

He wonders, distantly, if that "four or five percent" will involve more of the same, or if Mello is too proud to ever ask again, drunk or sober.]

What things?

[Because he's genuinely curious, about how Mello is going to try to turn this around on him.]