I Know That You Can Give Your Best, Have You Ever Had a Dream? [Closed]

[hearthebell]

Who: L, Mello and Near
What: Animal and domestic hijinks during Loud Valley.
Where: House #1202
When: August 30
Warnings: Nothing upsetting! Will update if that changes.



Though L has been here for nearly a month, he's been slow to soak up the changes in atmosphere and assimilate them into a new way of life. Before, he was the world's greatest detective, famous for his deeds with his name and face still paradoxically unknown. He was on the heels of a remorseless mass-killer, raising his arm to deliver a masterstroke just as his adversary had mirrored him and done the same. He had died, heart stopping and blood cooling in the vital arms of one who had bested him.

Though the outcome was far from ideal, the progression was logical. It made sense. Now, however, in spite of the fact that he seems to be alive again and has no shortage of sweets since the beginning of an absurd event, he still feels like he's fading and dwindling to nothing in the face of countless inexplicable absurdities. The presence of his grown successors makes him all but irrelevant, Watari's death is proving more permanent than his own and immensely inconvenient, and the only escape seems to be curling up in bed and waiting for sleep to sweep his heavy, tired limbs back to something he recognizes and knows intimately well. Even if the dreams turn to nightmares, showing him bloodthirsty eyes and a cruel smile, it's at least a face L can claim to understand.

He stirs awake sometime in the late afternoon, following an especially brutal sugar-crash. A small ball of fluff on his pillow stares forlornly back at him; the presence of the tiny white microbat had started off annoying but grown on him. Maybe because it's very like L in all the least abrasive ways, he finds it difficult to turn away or deny it, even if pity is all he can dredge up from a very dry emotional reservoir. It's needy and fragile, and this morning, it looks decidedly unwell.

L offers a thin hand, and instead of clambering promptly onto it as it has in the past, the bat ascends feebly, clinging in place the moment its latched onto a sleeve that's no longer pristine white, but fading to a dingy grey-yellow the more L wears it. His jeans aren't much better, and the only reason his feet are healing from the scratches and scrapes he'd acquired in his first days is because he's spent so much time off of them. His head spins when he stands up, vision spotting as he shuffles toward his door and opens it for the first time in many hours. If the bat is sick, he can at least bother to get it some water; he considers this as a solution before he even entertains the notion that it reflects his own state of unhealthy malaise.

Comments

[torrefied]

Mello is lounging on the couch in the living room, surrounded by an array of books collected from the library spread out on the cushions not occupied by himself or the small black cat that's been keeping him company for the past week. In one hand, he holds a half-eaten bar of foil-wrapped chocolate; in the other, a pencil, which he taps along the top of the open book propped up in his lap. He's been making notes in the margins of the books, no matter that they're on loan and thus probably shouldn't be scrawled in. L's emergence from his room is cause to note, though, so Mello looks up from his work to give the other man his attention, regardless of whether it's desired.

"Oh ... hey."

The cat curled up at his side startles awake with a quiet, questioning mrow, lazily stretching, and Mello turns to affectionately run his ungloved fingers over the top of its head.

[solvethepuzzle]

Near is the sort that's perfectly content to be in his room, especially since he's abiding by the agreement that his toys are to be kept out of the common areas. However, hearing voices on the other side of the door, the fluffy white fox that had followed him back to the house paws at the closed portal. Then stops, and if Near were looking, he would see it tilt its head as if pondering if it can squeeze through the crack underneath, before deciding against it and pawing more insistently.

This is already getting bothersome. Very well. He supposes he can open the door and let the little creature roam.

So he dismisses the ward on the door, and opens it. The fox dashes out . . . and apparently had taken advantage of Near's brief distraction to snatch up one of his robot action figures. Near sighs mildly, following the fox without any particular hurry. Still, he'd rather the toy not be damaged -- even if he's done worse to it himself than the fox is likely to do. Well. Unless the creature is inclined to stop and chew on it, but mostly it seems content to scurry through the house with its prize.

[hearthebell]

What L remembers of Wammy's House, though he wasn't able to spend much time there in his later years, is that it was (for him at least) a sanctuary. Children from all walks of life with one striking thing in common lived and studied together, played sometimes, cried sometimes, competed always. In Hadriel, it's a place L has to accept he'll never again return to, except like this. #1202 has become a surreal, miniature version of what nurtured and saved him, and what broke so many others.

Some seconds it feels comforting. Others, it feels like it's choking and smothering him or holding him underwater.

His voice is hoarse when he starts to answer. He has to clear his throat. "...hey."

Even though it's lethargic and seems weakened, the bat is noticeably skittish as Mello's cat stretches and meows, attempting to crawl further up L's sleeve, only to dig its claws in when the arctic fox dashes out of Near's room. Whether because he's startled by the fox or the claws, L stiffens as well.

Though 1202 contains elements of Wammy's, it doesn't feel like a sanctuary yet to the displaced detective. Keeping a wary eye on both animals, which look predatory and dangerous in comparison to the tiny creature clinging to his arm, he heads to the sink and starts filling a small, oddly-shaped bowl with water.

[torrefied]

Mello levels a pointed sideways glance at first the fox, then Near, but otherwise doesn't comment on the toy's encroachment on the common areas, a rule against which he laid down for Near when he'd first arrived. It doesn't really seem worth causing an argument over, though, and Mello is trying to be somewhat more agreeable, now that there is a certain understanding between him and Near. Mello instead turns his attention to L and calls after him into the kitchen.

"Are you ... doing OK?"

It feels like a stupid question. Maybe it is.

[solvethepuzzle]

He catches the glance, and rolls his eyes. He isn't the one that brought the toy out. This is not his fault. But as Mello is declining to say anything about the matter, Near will leave it alone.

For its own part, the fox shows no interest in disturbing the other occupants of the house just yet, instead hopping up on a kitchen chair. The fox looks back at Near, swishing its tail in anticipation. Playing chase the only conceivable way it could have gotten Near to participate. Sneaky creature.

But he is not running after an animal. That would be ridiculous and accomplish nothing. So he follows it at a more sedate pace, pondering what to do in order to corner the little thing and get his toy back.

He eyes the bat clinging to L's arm, and then L himself. It's an odd sort of resemblance. "I'm unsure as to which of you looks to be in sorrier condition."

[hearthebell]

L glances up, surprised at Mello's question and jarred by Near's blunter observation. Neither of them are wrong to approach it that way, but it still puts him in an awkward position. It means that his shroud of mystery has, in at least one notable way, been compromised, leaving him obvious and vulnerable to people who should never see him that way.

Maybe it doesn't matter, here, but old habits are so difficult to shake. Unfortunately, that includes L's habit of being more or less oblivious to the day to day needs of creatures large and small, from the bat on his arm to the children raised in his name to his very own person.

"It seems lethargic today. More than usual. Trying this can't hurt," he murmurs, setting the bowl on the counter and prying the bat loose. He sets it beside the bowl, where it stares blankly and disinterestedly at the offering.

[torrefied]

Mello directs an even sharper, more disapproving stare at Near over his comments on L's condition. Tact may be a thing on which Mello has only a loose grasp, but he knows well enough that you don't just say something like that to L, of all people. With a loud sigh, he drops the pencil in his hand into the gutter of the book on his lap and flips it closed, tossing it to the side as he climbs up from the couch and makes his way into the kitchen.

"Has it eaten anything lately?" Mello doesn't know much about taking care of animals, but food of some form or another is a necessity for all living creatures. He shifts his gaze to studying L with a scrutinizing eye. "For that matter, have you?"

[solvethepuzzle]

The disapproving look is largely ignored, as is par for the course with them. Near will say what he wants to who he wants, even L. There is nothing wrong with his observation. Besides, Mello is handling the problem. Near scarcely looks after himself, so how could he be expected to do it for anyone else?

The fox's attention finally lands on the bat, and Near takes advantage of the distraction to snatch the toy out of its mouth. He wipes the figure on his sleeve to dry off the saliva, then turns it over to examine it for any damage. Meanwhile, the fox hops onto the table, creeping closer to the counter.

"Stop," he says offhandedly, only watching out of the corner of his vision. And, oddly, the fox seems to listen to him.

[hearthebell]

Though plenty of discomfort has resulted from the observations both delicate and candid, L doesn't resent either Mello or Near for their approaches. It would seem like resenting forces of nature for behaving according to their reliable and documented laws.

His scrawny shoulders are tense as Mello approaches and Near's fox seems to stalk the frail looking little bat on the counter. Aware and vigilant, the bat seems even more nervous, but fortunately, whatever magic governs these animals and their sense of awareness also seems to allow Near to have some influence over his.

L doesn't know if he has any over the bat. He hasn't tried; it hasn't even occurred to him to deliver an order with any expectation.

"Of course I've eaten," he answers, and that's true. Candy's been readily available lately, after all. Of course, that means that he's been eating it exclusively, which might be leaving his blood sugar in worse shape than if he wasn't eating it all with the constant highs and lows. "I suppose it's not really possible to know how long any of these animals were meant to live... perhaps it's approaching its natural end."

Never mind that the cat and fox in the apartment, along with every other animal L's seen, has seemed perfectly vital.

[torrefied]

"Bats typically eat insects or fruit," Mello says, turning his attention to the animal while still keeping his distance. This is, of course, not anything L wouldn't already know.

The recitation of facts is cut short, however, by the cat slinking its way into the kitchen with a low rumbling growl deep in his throat. He jumps up on the table after the fox and bats at its tail. Mello turns his head to level a sharp stare at the cat, snapping his fingers at him.

"Quit it."

The cat glances up at Mello and pays absolutely no heed, batting at the fox's tail again.

[solvethepuzzle]

Ah, good. No damage to the toy.

Near hadn't been sure the fox would listen, but he'd reasoned that nothing could be lost from a command. Either he would obey or he wouldn't, and everything Near had observed about the animal thus far indicates that it's more playful than predatory. Not that the bat is in any shape for play.

But something else is. The cat manages a successful swat at the fox's tail, distracting his attention from the bat. The fox turns, tail lowered to protect its rear, but head tilted curiously at this new creature. And then he . . . makes a move to gently put his paw onto the cat's head.

[hearthebell]

The bat is a small breed, micro as opposed to foxface. That means that insects are likely, and L isn't sure he's seen one at all since coming down to the cave.

It makes a strange amount of sense that all of them would have predator familiars, but the size and vitality of the fox and cat in comparison to the bat are... concerning, to say the least. Not that it seems to matter; ultimately, the larger animals seem more interested in one another than the shabby, irrelevant creature attached to L.

"I don't suppose yours have eaten anything since they started existing."

[torrefied]

The cat hisses loudly at the fox in protest of having a paw placed on its head. Mello watches, then sighs loudly, dragging his hand down his face in exasperation.

"Honestly, Katze, what did you expect." (Yes, he named his cat the German word for cat. No one is surprised.) Leaving the cat and the fox to work things out among themselves, Mello leans back against the counter, turning his attention back to L and his bat.

"I'm sure he has. Cats are pretty self-sufficient." That, or due to the fantastical nature of their existence, these creatures don't actually require sustenance like ordinary animals. "But I haven't actually seen him eating anything, if that's what you're asking."