hadriel_logs | Event Log: Keepsakes

Entry tags:

Event Log: Keepsakes

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Keepsakes event!
Where: All around the city
When: October 15th-October 19th
Warnings: A bunch of random crap.

Well, Hope and Delight are messing with the door again, but at least this time dragons aren't involved, right? This attempt goes a bit better - sure, no one gets sent home, but if everyone will just look under their seats, they'll find a FREE [INSERT SOMETHING YOU MAYBE DIDN'T WANT AT ALL HERE]! Awesome! So nice! Yup, throughout these few days people will be finding things from home - something they loved, something they used all the time, something they hated, something they totally forgot they even had. All sorts of cool stuff!

Well, they might not actually find it. Their neighbor might, or a complete stranger. And who knows where it could turn up? At the park, half-buried? In the Silent Hill zone, kept safe by a horrifying monster? Or hey, maybe in somebody's underwear drawer. Awkward. Better try to find your stuff, or find the owner of whatever weird crap you found. It could be something important.

► This log covers October 15th-October 19th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you somehow manage to die in this event, please let us know here, and also what the hell?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

one. for L.

The first day, Mello steps out onto the deck of the house he's sharing with L and Near and finds a plain bottle of black nail polish sitting on the railing. This ... seems a little suspicious, but maybe that's just because Mello has been bred for a certain level of paranoia and distrust. This isn't the first time objects have suddenly appeared at their house without fanfare, but upon inspection, it seems like nothing more than a perfectly ordinary bottle of nail polish.

Mello pockets the bottle and takes it inside to his room, then sets it up on the windowsill next to the Hope's hula girl and stares at it for about fifteen minutes. Satisfied that it isn't somehow strange, he takes the bottle down from the shelf, gives it a good shake as he moves to a sprawl on the bed, unscrews the cap, and begins carefully applying a coat of polish to his thumbnail.

two. L and near.

Well, this is fairly disgusting. This time, when Mello steps out onto the deck, the thing sitting up on the railing is a paper bag full of something, and the label is too water-damaged to make out anything except a single letter - L. Mello is pretty sure he doesn't want to inspect the contents, but he does so anyway, face scrunched up with disgust when he sees that what is inside is food, or it used to be, before it was overtaken by mold.

The big question, of course, is what to do with it next. He could ignore it, leave it out here, but it's not in his nature to leave things for someone else to take care of. He delicately picks up the topmost edge of the paper bag, holds it a respectable distance in front of himself, and marches back into the house, making a beeline for the kitchen trash can.

[The downside of living with two people who are less socially aware, in very different ways, is that it can be difficult to predict which boundaries will be tripped over and when. When it comes to comes to closed doors, for example, L isn't always the best at knocking. Though he maintains his own boundaries jealously, he seems blithely unaware of others'; it's not malicious, and almost passes for innocent, but the point is, he's terrible at it.

He wants to address something he found that has Mello's name on it, a copy of Machiavelli's The Prince that his foot brushed against on his way back to the house. He carries it delicately but more firmly than he typically handles things, implying that he actually cares about whether or not he damages it. He turns the knob and enters, stopping short when he sees what his successor's doing.]

The fumes from nail polish can be intoxicating if you inhale them and you don't have access to proper ventilation, you know... are you feeling light-headed?

[That's ... a little irritating, but Mello does his best to ignore it. While he'd made an explicit agreement with Near to never enter his room without explicit permission, he'd made no such arrangement with L.]

Yeah, I know. I've done this before a few times.

[He replaces the brush inside the bottle and screws the cap back on, careful not to disturb the wet polish.]

Did you need something?

[As long as there's no such arrangement with L, it will not occur to him to respect boundaries that most people would consider implicit. Such is the joy and wonder of living with the original genius superdetective who set the standard for their strange legacy.

He doesn't seem perturbed or to find it strange that Mello has painted his nails before, or that he's doing so now. Most aesthetic decisions admittedly baffle him on a pretty basic level.]

I think this is yours, and related the the current series of strange events. There are many objects you were sentimental about, it sees like.

[He turns the book in his hands, shuffling closer to Mello's bed.]

[Mello wouldn't dream of placing such restrictions on L. He's L, after all.

He definitely takes notice of the book in L's hands, sitting up with interest, eyes widening as he recognizes the image on the cover. He doesn't bother to protest the statement about sentimentality.]

The Prince? That looks like the copy I had when I was a kid.

[Even if such a restriction was attempted, L would likely shirk or outright ignore it. Not out of disrespect, exactly, but more out of inexperience.]

Given the nature of what's happening, lately... I think it's your copy. The inside cover certainly indicates as much.

[His exact copy? He did write his name on the inside cover as a child ... Still wide-eyed, Mello extends a hand out.]

Can I see?

Of course... if it is yours, I wouldn't try to keep you from it. Especially if it provides you with some comfort or recognition you'd forgotten, prior to coming back in contact with it. No one should be denied that, least of all someone who studied after my methods.

[He closes the rest of the distance between them, offering the book. Hopefully that nail polish is sufficiently dry.]

[If the nail polish gets smudged, Mello can live with that. The book is a lot more important at the moment.]

It's ...

[He flips open the cover, and sure enough, there's his name, M E L L O, written in childish block letters. Mouth pursed, he flips through the introduction, skipping through dog-eared pages with notes scribbled in the tiny margins.]

I've read a lot, of course, but ... ever since I first read it, this was my favorite book.

[Which probably comes as no surprise to anyone who's ever met him.]

[L watches Mello's reaction to having the thing in his hands; he wasn't sure what to expect. He's privy to much of Mello's life and times, of course, but there are things he's had no reason to be aware of. Either because they're deeply-buried and secret, or (more likely) because they're largely inconsequential to what L absolutely needs to know.

And, in truth, so much of L's dealings with his successors have been very much on a need-to-know basis, for better or worse.]

What is it that you like so much about it?

[L has also read extensively, but has no favorite book.]

How true it is.

[Mello gently closes the book and glances up, giving L his attention again.]

Machiavelli gets a bad rap, but he wasn't wrong. A lot of people like to believe that those in power have their best interests in mind, that they're good, virtuous people. They don't really understand how flexible political machinations truly are. There are a lot of variables to consider. "Any man who tries to be good all the time is bound to come to ruin among the great number who are not good."

[He shrugs lightly.]

Frankly, I think it's all pretty sound advice, and I always have.

[Which perhaps says a lot about Mello's disposition toward the world at large - something L has probably already been able to observe about him.]

[It says so much that Mello took a book like that as truth, as opposed to what so many other potential successors chose. Religious texts, ideal-ridden narratives, things that promised a stark difference between right and wrong and assured that good would always eventually triumph. Especially when good, like the ultimate good that was L, stood in a position of power, evil ran out of corners to lurk in.]

I don't think that Machiavelli is so far from the nihilistic rhetoric of certain other influential thinkers. Monsters fighting monsters, the abyss staring back... it's all very relevant, or... was.

[L has seemed paler since arriving in Hadriel, in more ways than just his coloration. It's like vitality has been sapped from him, leaving an earnest but exhausted husk who doesn't know quite how to deal with the loss of his own relevance. Some are quick to find new purpose and establish a new life in Hadriel, but L hasn't been one of them.]

I've always considered Machiavelli to be more of a pragmatist, personally.

[Not that he's saying L is wrong, necessarily - in Mello's tone, there's an unspoken prompt for elaboration, if L feels so inclined.]

It's still relevant, I think - maybe more so here, where we have actual monsters to face.

[Mello sets the book down on the bed and draws his knees up with his arms wrapped around his legs.]

But I've always found nihilism a fairly depressing branch of philosophy - I tend to fall more on the side of existentialists. "Life has no meaning a priori … It is up to you to give it a meaning." “I rebel; therefore I exist.” That sort of thing.

[None of this is likely surprising.]

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hearthebell - 2017-01-19 03:02 (UTC) - Expand

[L happens to be leaving his room at right around the time Mello's coming back inside. At first, he thinks that maybe the younger man has found yet another memento from his childhood; he senses that both of his successors are more sentimental when it comes to objects than he is, so it doesn't particularly surprise him.

Until he actually sees what Mello's handling, with disgust and care, moving toward the trash can with clear intent to junk what is clearly junk. He catches sight of the mostly water-destroyed name, and his face pales a few shades further.]

Wait...

[When L tells you to wait, you wait. Mello draws to an immediate halt, though he turns and levels a questioning glance at the other man.]

What? Leaving it outside would just make it more gross to deal with later.

[There's no easy way to say that L not only knows what the bag is, but has a connection to it that breaks past his typical aloofness. There's a specific kind of recognition in his dark eyes.

He holds out a thin hand.]

I think it's mine... let me see.

[Even though it probably makes his skin crawl, the way his fingers twitch, he's serious about wanting to take it away from Mello's less delicate grasp.]

It's ... yours.

[Why this. Mello's eyes widen, but honestly, is anything at this point really so surprising. He does as L instructs, holding it out for the other man to take.]

You didn't leave it out there.

[L reaches for it, managing not to quite snatch it back, but there's something nervous and rushed about the gesture nevertheless.]

I wasn't aware it was there. I wasn't aware...

[...that anything in the world still existed that could make me feel, at least not an object.

It's got to be disposed of, obviously, but even though it's disgusting, it looks like L will have more than a little bit of difficulty letting go of it.]

[There's something distinctly uncomfortable about this, something beyond the disgusting nature of the thing. It takes Mello a moment to arrive at the conclusion, but when he does, he realizes that the discomfiting thing about it is that it has produced this unsettled reaction from L, and that's something Mello hasn't seen before.]

What is it?

[It's like being stripped naked and shoved into a blizzard; L's composure is actually admirable under the circumstances, even if it's not at the level Mello is accustomed to seeing from the older detective.

Pale, tapered fingertips tighten around the bag's moldy edges. He crouches, setting it on the floor, letting it tip over. A roach skitters out, and he withdraws his hand hastily and instinctively.]

I never ate it. Insects got to it first, but... I kept it anyway. It was all I had left. Down to the detail, it's... really uncanny...

[It's either the original or a perfect copy. That's unnerving as hell, but what about this entire situation isn't?]

[Uncanny is right. Mello doesn't step any closer, but he does crouch to the floor, unable to take his eyes off the bag for long, except to shift his gaze to L himself.]

When was this?

[L's eyes are also fixed on the bag, but he's aware of Mello's gaze. It prickles into him like a candle, benign for the most part, but still capable of causing pain when it's too close.]

Nineteen... eigthy-four? Eighty five?

[As is pretty typical for L, he doesn't say "when I was five, or six." He keeps it objective, impersonal. It was 1984 for the entire world, not just one abandoned orphan.]

Common conjecture is that, like most of the children in Wammy's House, I was orphaned. That's not exactly the case.

[There is a lot of mythology surrounding L, and not many facts were known, even to those who hoped to follow in his footsteps. Mello was unique among the children of Wammy's House in meeting the man as himself, and even that was just the one time. He doesn't know L's exact age, but he can estimate he's somewhere in his 20s based on appearance, and quick mental math places him as likely a very young child in 1984.

What L is disclosing to him now, this tiny clue of truth about himself - it feels to Mello like he's bestowing a great honor upon him, just like it felt when he was a child and L chose to recount for him those three stories, that of the LABB Murders that he wrote down for Near to find after his death and the other two that he didn't document. Mello shifts to sitting on the floor, one knee bent with his arm laid across the top of his knee. There's an uncommon note of gentleness in what he says next:]

Parental death is the most common way of creating an orphan, but it isn't the only way. Sometimes it's ... something else.

[Abandonment, mostly. Is that what L is telling him, that he was abandoned by his parents, and that's how he came under Watari's care? Mello swallows down the uncomfortable lump in his throat and watches the other man closely, gauging L's reaction to what he's said for confirmation that his guess is correct.]

[It likely wasn't something L ever meant to impart, to Mello or Near or anyone else, but Hadriel has a way of forcing certain dark things out into the open. He would have preferred to take this to his grave, and back in their world, he had, but now he's said enough that it would be strange not to say more, or acknowledge what Mello guesses and understands on his own.]

She might not have wanted to be a mother, but she definitely didn't want to be my mother.

[Sometimes, it really is that simple.]

The last time I looked her up, she was living in northern France with her husband and two children.

... Shit.

[It's a murmured curse, almost under his breath, and he briefly presses a hand to his mouth as he allows this confirmation to wash over him. Like the other children at the House, Mello assumed the famous orphan L became such in the same way as he and the other children there did. Abandonment seems much more cruel than having your parents stolen away by untimely death, and while there may be some justifiable cases where abandonment is understandable - economic or physical inability to care for a child, for example - simple lack of desire to raise one child in particular, as Mello takes what L tells him, is inexcusable, in his opinion.]

I didn't know. [Of course he didn't; how could he know?] That's - that's horrible.

[For all the ways Mello has felt unwanted over the years, he never once doubted that his own mother loved him very much, for the short number of years they had together.]

Event Log: Keepsakes

mello | closed to casa wammy's

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