hadriel_logs | I Fashioned You From Jewels and Stone, I Made You in the Image of Myself

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I Fashioned You From Jewels and Stone, I Made You in the Image of Myself

Who: L, Mello and Near
What: Mello gave L some information on how to find a mutual acquaintance. L has managed to do this reliably swiftly.
Where: House #1202
When: Backdated to soon after L's arrival and first conversation with Mello
Warnings: Just some broken, messed-up orphans being broken and messed-up? Will update as necessary.

L believes that his life truly began when he became a detective, and everything before that was just some strange and confusing portrait of a child who was little more than a stranger. Ironically, however, in a lot of ways he's remained that boy, wide-eyed and undernourished and searching for answers and purpose. In Hadriel, now that he knows that he's been effectively brought back to life and met the future version of one of his successors, that search has led him to the door of the other one, from even further in his truncated future.

He's aware that the security will be top-notch, and that it's likely that even with a confident claim and some evidence to back it up, Near's paranoia rivals his own. He will probably have some artful explaining to do just to establish his identity has L-number-one, which should be nothing to someone who carried the mantle for so long. That being said, the title was more to the children of the House than any living being could successfully manage to embody, almost deified. A mysterious, glowing computer screen has a decided advantage over a shabby and all-too-human figure with hollow, haunted eyes and no shoes to cover his scratched and blistered feet.

He knocks, several sharp raps that mean business. The sooner he deals with this, the better.

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This isn't the first time in recent days that there's been a mysterious knock at the front door, and that's a worrisome fact in itself. Mello's on his feet in an instant when he hears the intrusive sound ring through the house's interior - pistol in hand, thumb ready to slide the safety off - and quickly makes his way to the nearest window to peek out and inspect the source of the knock. He isn't expecting to see the person standing on the porch.

It's L.

Mello's jaw drops open, eyes wide at the shape seen through the curtains. He remembers coming across L chiseling at a muraled wall, remembers talking with him, but the episode faded to memory much like a dream, and he hadn't seen L again during the rest of his community service sentence. Mello assumed it was a dream, possibly a product of the trauma experienced in his own death at Bianca's hands. It's not so unusual to imagine that his subconscious, when faced with the reality of his own mortality, might call up a wish for such a significant person as L to be resurrected as well.

But this isn't a dream now; Mello is quite certain of that. He calls back into the house, a note of urgency in his tone that refuses questions before they've even been asked: "Near. Come unlock the door."

The knock is enough of an anomaly that Near, on the floor in his room, actually pauses in the midst of placing another piece of the puzzle Hope had given him in its proper position. Twice in the past several days. What now?

He doesn't move at first, listens to Mello's footsteps recede toward the door. A normal reaction, consistent with the last time. What is markedly different is the call for him to undo the magical seal he places on the entrance as a matter of course. The last time, they'd resorted to sign language to communicate in order to keep the number of occupants secret, didn't dare release the security measures until they'd been mostly certain there'd been no threat awaiting them.

Something is different this time. Tremendously. But what?

Near slots the puzzle piece into place, but otherwise does not hesitate to respond to the call. But his steps are not hurried, that same quiet shuffle that he always has. He observes Mello at the window, and has certainly noted that tone that brooks no questions. But he asks one anyway.

"Who?"

The security measures are under his command; he wants explanations before he takes them down. He wants the reason. There are very few people he can think of for whom Mello would make such an immediate allowance.

"It's L."

Mello has no way of knowing whether Near found and read the document he left behind and therefore no way of knowing whether Near knows that Mello met L and would be able to recognize him on sight. But there are some things you don't lie about when you've been raised by Wammy's House, and one of those things is L. He's been dead for years by both their perspectives, but Mello too has been dead for a while by Near's point of view, so he trusts that Near will believe that he isn't lying when he discloses the identity of the man on their doorstep. Mello turns from the window to face Near, no trace of a lie in his pinched expression, and gestures toward the door.

"I told him where to find us. Let him in."

Edited 2016-08-13 18:35 (UTC)

If Near is surprised, it doesn't show. He merely regards Mello intently for a moment behind blank eyes, studying his expression. That L could be here is plausible enough. Near has so much experience with alternate realities and people being drawn from them at various points in time that the statement does not come across as unbelievable. And it's clear enough from Mello's expression that he is not lying. It's possible that he could be mistaken, but he believes the words that he is saying.

Near has indeed read the document that Mello had left behind at home; he knows the story of Beyond Birthday, Mello's real name (that he will never address him with, as it is Just Not Done), and that Mello has met L in person. Back home. He'd never mentioned anything before about seeing him here. But . . . there is nothing to be gained from lying about this. Compromising the security of the house would hurt Mello as well as him. It would be a stupid move.

Even so: "And you thought it too unimportant to mention to me earlier?"

And yet he moves his gaze to the door, makes the required gesture to cancel the spell. And then nods at the door for Mello to do the rest. He may be inclined to trust Mello's judgement on this, but he will still stay back where it's safer until he is more personally assured.

He gives Near a one-shouldered shrug and says, coolly: "I figured I'd mention it if and when it became relevant." And Mello takes a lot more satisfaction from his passive-aggressive reply than he probably should, but this is how things go between the two of them. Near didn't think telling Mello about the fact that he'd learned magic was important, after all.

Still, that situation has become relevant, clearly, since L is waiting on their doorstep, and that's a more important thing than continuing to bicker like the children they are. Mello undoes the physical locks on the door and pulls it open a few inches - not all the way, just in case this is a trap of some kind.

But it's not a trap. It really is L - not a dream, not a flight of fancy. Mello swallows down his quick-beating heart from where it's jumped up his throat. "You're here."

As things that are "relevant" go, L's appearance in Hadriel certainly qualifies as such. If Mello's truly kept this from Near, the younger prodigy has every reason to be perturbed... but as games and getting even go, Mello's reasons could well excuse his decision to keep the news to himself for a short while. None of them are truly above the pettiness of having a delicious secret and dropping it at an opportune, satisfying time, after all.

He straightens as much as he can when he hears the locks begin to unbolt, which isn't saying much. His spine is so bent and crooked from years of curling over a keyboard that some days, it's actually an effort stand straighter than bending nearly double. L's dark, haunted eyes meet Mello's when the door cracks open just enough to reveal a cautious face.

For once, an encounter with the famous detective actually is not a trap. He's somber and serious, but far from a threat to two people he has every interest in protecting.

"It took longer than I'd anticipated, but yes, I'm here," he confirms, though it isn't necessary. Near might be judging the exchange for just that reason as they speak. "Are you going to let me in?"

His voice is calm and steady, but he looks a touch wavery. It's possible, and in fact likely, that L has waited until the last few viable moments to come here. He's not just hungry and exhausted, he is on the edge of collapse.

"Yeah, of course." Mello steps back and opens the door for L to enter, keeping a keen eye on the landscape behind him to make sure no prying eyes are observing this encounter. Mello has been accused on more than one occasion of being paranoid, but with good reason - hypervigilance is entirely justified when there really are people out to get you.

Once L is safely inside, Mello turns the physical locks on the door again and glances to Near, with a silent expectation that he'll reset the magical wards on the door. He's also anticipating that there will be questions, and he's ready to answer them, if necessary.

To L, he says: "I assume you already know Near." For Near, no introduction is necessary; he's already identified L to him, before he opened the door.

Edited 2016-08-15 04:08 (UTC)

Near has never seen L in person, only pieced together some idea of his appearance from vague descriptions. He's heard his voice, though it had been somewhat scrambled electronically. But only somewhat, and the one on the other side of the door begets a sense of vague familiarity, only helped by the identical cadence. Judging from both sides of the conversation, the two have indeed met here and Mello had given their location. It's further confirmation of Mello's story. And the haggard-looking creature that Mello allows inside well enough resembles what descriptions Near had gotten before making his mask and finger-puppet back home.

So this . . . is fine. He'll accept the reasoning, backed by his own observations.

The glance is noted, but not what makes him lay a hand on the closed door and recite a few words under his breath, resetting the ward. It's simply a normal, standard security measure at this point. One that he does not need to be prompted to raise.

After that, his eyes are firmly fixed on L, something that the older man may not register as unusual but will be a definite point of interest to Mello, given that Near rarely bothers to look at others directly. Near had never expected to meet their mentor, had never had any particular desire for it, no great fantasy or speculation like so many of the other children had indulged in. But now that it's happened, he's quite interested, and his gaze is calm, steady, unblinking.

Near looks little different than when L had seen him through webcams. Taller? Perhaps a bit, though he'd been crouched on the floor during the question sessions and he's standing at the moment, so it's difficult to judge, even if his shoulders are a bit slouched. Only slightly less rounded cheeks. His skin is still unblemished, face youthful in that way that those who rarely emote are able to maintain. Though more well-kept than L looks at the moment, he's still in rumpled white pajamas and his hair hasn't seen a good brushing in days.

"We hadn't had the pleasure of a proper meeting until now." His voice is flat, serene, unconcerned with the poor state that his mentor is in. "So it's an honour, L the First."

Part of him might even mean it.

L checked the area carefully and thoroughly before even approaching the house, ensuring that no one was around who might notice his presence here. Everything that Mello observes because he was taught to, L essentially created the process of, and he can attest to the fact that when a large portion of the world would like to see one dead, it's highly prudent to remain as invisible as possible.

He shuffles in gingerly on soft-soled feet; he hasn't tread barefoot on anything rougher than a hotel carpet in quite a long time, and the result is tender and painful. Not that he's given it much notice, until now; the city has demanded exploration, and L was not known for restraint and respecting his own physical limitations. Willpower was actually a point of pride for him, keeping those pesky, base urges and reactions at bay while more important and cerebral things were managed. However, now that he's inside, and safe, with locks separating them from the outside world, he's still not at-ease, because the black-glass eyes staring back at him are too disconcerting for comfort.

He nods silently in response to Mello's question, never taking his gaze off of Near. He doesn't blink as the ward is reset, observing though he has no way of knowing the nature of what's being done. For Wammy's children, obsessive-compulsive tics aren't that unusual or that startling. Once Near's finished, the other variations in his appearance are more apparent the longer the two study each other. L is only a few days older than 25, or precisely the age he was at his time of death; Near must have aged since then judging by his height, but not so obviously or unambiguously as Mello. Unkempt, he seems to have followed L's legacy in both retaining a deceptively youthful appearance by merit of a sterling poker face and failing to groom himself with any regularity.

It's the kind of impressive copy that L perhaps wasn't meant to see, that shouldn't have existed until long after he was dead and buried. If he recognizes the significance of Near acknowledging him, calling the opportunity to meet him an honor, it's not immediately apparent, because without even answering, he drifts away from both of his successors, in the direction of wherever a freezer is kept. Following him will reveal that he's rifling through the contents of whatever is available, setting aside anything that looks acceptable: specifically, anything that could be sold in an ice cream aisle at the supermarket.

Edited 2016-08-15 05:29 (UTC)

Mello has perhaps never felt more out of place, more like an unnatural anomaly in a perfect pattern, more like the ugly, bone-deep failure that he knows he is than he does now, standing here with both L and Near inspecting each other. He and Near are the same age now, yet Mello appears older than even L, worn and scarred by the hard life he chose when he left the House that molded him into the monster he became and his multitudinous defeats in the years after. Meeting L alone was enough to make him feel inferior and unworthy; being in the same physical space as boy who managed to best him in every meaningful way feels like a comparison in his mentor's eyes that is too sharp to bear.

"Quit staring," he hisses at Near, sotto voce, as he tucks his pistol into the back of his waistband and follows L into the kitchen. There is no ice cream to be had in Hadriel, unfortunately, nor much in the way of sweets at all; Mello's personal stash of chocolate ran out weeks ago, and nothing even close has made yet an appearance on the shelves of the stores in the city. He silently watches the other man rifle around for a moment before speaking up.

"Um ... are you OK?" It's a dumb question, and he immediately regrets opening his mouth. "I mean - did you have any trouble finding this place?"

L has been long-since dead and buried in their world, by the time Near has become this replica. By all the rules of logic, they should have never met, but this place exists outside the realm of logic as they've grown to know it. The similarities are uncanny, perhaps all the moreso because they aren't due to any conscious imitation on Near's part. He is as he is, and it somehow manages to bear a strong surface similarity to the man he and Mello had been raised to replace. Near has dealt quite a few blows to Mello over the course of their lives, some deliberate and some unintentional, and this is another of the latter.

He's unoffended at L simply drifting past them without acknowledgement; it's not terribly important. And Mello's order goes ignored. When something catches Near's interest, he fixates on it and coming face to face with L has his attention. He'll stop staring when he feels like it, or when he's more forcefully pulled away from it. Not before. He never takes his eyes off their mentor as he follows them both into the kitchen.

That L is raiding the freezer isn't terribly surprising; he's obviously in very sorry shape and is in need of food. Near had certainly noticed that, but hadn't bothered to acknowledge it. For the moment, he has nothing to add; Mello's questions are sufficient. He just watches.

Mello's whisper is obscured by the rustling sound of various packages as L tries, rather unsuccessfully, to find anything vaguely sweet. His diet is restrictive and peculiar, the kind of thing a child would demand without pausing to consider just how taxing it would be a on a body. Even when it's clear that there's no candy, ice cream or frozen sugary treats to be had, he continues to pull everything out as if driven by the comforting routine of completion.

As he crouches there, surrounded by frozen food that will thaw and spoil unless it's replaced, Mello's first question sounds unnecessary to the point of ridiculousness. Not that L will ever admit it; faced with his two most promising successors, the only option is to be OK, whether or not he feels he can be. It's the same dogged necessity that's driven him through sleepless nights to hopelessly difficult conclusions, from the time he was a raw-knuckled and quiet child struggling to overcome his natural limitations yet again. Just a little further.

Every urge he possesses, as usual, is better off being suppressed.

He stares passionlessly at the meager and unappetizing options. "I don't typically have trouble finding the things I'm looking for," he says in melancholic answer; it comes off both as a reason he's here and a bemused expression of severe disappointment that, having just come back to life again, he is apparently doomed to begin starving to death.

Once again, Mello is left feeling like an ungainly idiot child, opening his mouth and then silently closing it again with too-obvious questions left unasked. He shouldn't need to ask; shouldn't one of L's successors (almost his successor but not quite) just know, instinctively, what L wants from him?

But Mello doesn't know. He isn't smart or quick or intuitive enough to puzzle out the answer on his own, so he's reduced to asking: "What is it you're looking for?"

One of them should probably think to put everything back into the freezer. And perhaps one of them will, eventually, but it's clearly not a priority. No, Near's mind is busy working out just what L has been unable to find because it obviously does not exist in their freezer.

There had been so many rumours and speculations about L's habits, routines, and his diet. Anything to learn how to be more like the one they hoped to become one day. Something very common had been the idea that L subsists entirely on sweets. It's frankly no more ridiculous than anything else; being what the outside world considers normal had been the anomaly at the House. On the assumption that this idea has some measure of truth in it -- not so much that he subsists entirely, but that it's the preferred majority of his diet -- and the fact that he's raided the freezer and not any of the cupboards . . .

"The shops do not provide ice cream, I'm afraid. Or much of anything sweet at all."

Near does not have a particular problem with that. It's easy to assume that he's a fussy eater, but in fact he is not that particular. Decent texture, and it won't make him ill or kill him? Then it's fine. Food is to sustain life; any enjoyment is superfluous. (Save for those rare low moods where he catches himself craving chocolate. But that is neither here nor there.)

It's somewhat ironic that even as L is piecing together the calmest possible facade to cope with the flurry of upsetting things Hadriel keeps flinging at him, the image he's presenting isn't one of supreme poise or control. A genius, a child, and a madman exist in uneasy harmony within him, and one fades and recedes considerably in light of this current situation. He stares blankly in Mello's direction when he asks the question that L doesn't know the answer to, himself, except that it's insultingly simple and unfairly complicated.

He wants ice cream, of course, but he also wants security, routine, some focal point to rely on and use to chart the necessary way home. He's yearning for a world where logic and rules still reign supreme, even knowing that the world he came from has recently gone insane. Shinigami have descended from the sky, materialized, started stealing the breath of heretics on command. That L is merely driven to search for sugar and fat is a minor miracle.

Near's deduction is more astute, and though it's disappointing, L isn't really surprised. It just figures that the few things that could comfort him are not possible to obtain.

"I thought it might be the case."

His voice is heavy and tired, unable and unwilling to fight or protest that there has to be something. Denial is a trap that weak minds fall into when they can't face the truth, and though it's been difficult lately, even Herculean, L promised himself a long time ago that he would not allow himself to fall victim to it. Even when it means going hungry until he can figure out something that suits his narrow palate, he has to face the facts and accept in some capacity that there are things he will have to learn to stomach.

"While I learn about this place... I need to stay here."

It's not a request. L knows that his successors won't turn him away, or tell him that he's unwelcome even if he is and space is tight. Turning away L would simply not be done, no matter what kind of sorry shape he was in or how little he resembled the myth he had been built into.

Edited 2016-08-19 22:24 (UTC)

"Well of course you should stay here." Mello sounds almost offended that it's even in question. "It's the most secure location in the entire city. I saw to that." And it doesn't hurt that Near reinforces the doors and windows with magical wards, either.

"There's an extra bedroom in the middle of those doors." He points back over his shoulder, through the living room to the three matching doors on the other side of the living room. "There was furniture already when I found the place, so you should be all set."

It's thanks to both of their efforts that this location is as secure as it is. But Near will allow Mello to have this one. This is not the moment for L to learn of what he's gone through before arriving here, what he's capable of doing now. That time will come later, most likely. Especially since it had been clear from the beginning that L would be residing here.

"You're welcome here, naturally." Near has no objection to it. He may not be as eager to please as Mello is -- the pedestal that L has been on had been dealt a blow years earlier -- he retains enough respect for his mentor that this arrangement is agreeable to him. "Mello had even insisted that I stay here upon my own arrival. It was very kind of him."

Yes, he is complimenting you, Mello. Deal with that. He's even refraining from commentary that L is getting no rules and conditions applying to the invitation, unlike the offer Mello had extended to him. The rules aren't something Near considers a big deal, and he's still making a conscious effort to not say as many things that Mello can construe as attacks.

L strongly suspects that if what Mello claims is true, the two of them worked together to achieve it, but like Near, he says nothing, merely turns his gaze to the promised convenience of an extra bedroom.

It's solitude and privacy when both still feel strange to him, off the heels of being handcuffed to Light Yagami. The signs of metal chafing and sliding around his wrist are even still apparent; he had died before they'd faded. He had had enough time to live and realize that he missed the sound of someone breathing several feet from him, that the silence felt crushing and that in the unlikely event that Light wasn't Kira, when he had a choice in the matter, he didn't really want to be around "Ryuzaki."

He nods; he knows that there are other things he needs. A change of clothes, food (followed through, unlike the scattered frozen items slowly thawing on the floor in the kitchen), basic human necessities that Watari used to provide for him. Logically, he knows what they are, but practically, he's inept at organizing and expressing those thoughts. Right now, the simplest solutions to the most pressing problems seems to be collapsing in bed and collecting on the massive sleep debt he has accumulated in the last hellish weeks. Unless intercepted, he'll set about doing just that, without further words or acknowledgment.

Mello shoots Near an ugly glare that he knows will in all likelihood be ignored but otherwise doesn't comment on what he feels is meant to be an insult of some kind. (Most things sound like an insult when coming from Near.)

When it becomes apparent that L is set on making his way to the spare bedroom - now his - Mello considers saying something else, even opening his mouth to do so, but he quickly closes it and turns his attention instead to the melting food items. Someone has to put them back in the freezer, or else there will be puddles everywhere before too long, and it looks like it may as well be him.

Near does not see the glare; his eyes haven't left L the entire time. He feels it, though, and it isn't worth paying any more mind to. Mello glares at him with such frequency that it's not even notable.

Nothing else productive is going to come out of this meeting. That much is obvious enough and so he simply watches L retreat to the room he's been given. He waits for the door to close before he says anything.

"Well. This is an interesting turn of events."

And . . . that's it, really. A considerate person would help Mello clean up, but for all that Near is trying to be a bit kinder at the moment, the idea never even enters his mind. There is a domestic chore to be done, and someone else is doing it; this is the way things work. So unless Mello tries to rope him into assisting, he is on his way back to his own room.

He's still in the middle of that puzzle, after all.

Mello says nothing in response to Near, still burning with embarrassment under the weight of his own inadequacy. This encounter with L did not go well, and Mello feels like it must be entirely his fault, that he should have somehow been better. So it's fine that Near leaves him to clean up the kitchen on his own - he can fume in silence without Near's watchful gaze making him feel worse.

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I Fashioned You From Jewels and Stone, I Made You in the Image of Myself

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