[private]

[cataract]

Light is not entirely sure where he is, or why. There's bright green grass beneath him, and the sun overhead is warm on his face. Lying back in the grass, he folds one arm over his eyes; wherever he is, he decides, it's not unpleasant.

[[OOC: private to refractings.]]

Comments

[refractings]

[Sometimes, when the endless hallways and windowless rooms become stifling, Light seeks out a forested room he's found, far enough from the populated areas to be seldom-used.

This is the first time it's changed on him, and he blinks in surprise as he steps through the door. Behind him, the door is still visible, its frame rising from the ground unsupported by any walls. He knows if he goes behind the door, where the other side of the door should be there will be nothing but grass -- at least he assumes so. Aside from the scenery, this room seems similar enough to his forest room, so it probably acts roughly the same way.

The sunlight is a bit bright for reading; Light glances with mild regret at the copy of Candide he holds. But the weather is temperate, and the fields are picturesque, and there's no harm in relaxing for a bit

[cataract]

[Light, reasonably enough, has taken this for a dream. He's outdoors, with no buildings in sight - something he's never known. He's alone, which is unheard of - Ryuk is always there, somewhere, a willing audience for Light's undoubted brilliance.

Nothing that's about to happen will change his mind. Probably. Hearing the cough - familiar, yet not - he lifts the arm over his eyes to- Oh. I see. The other boy looks almost exactly like him, if a little - what is that, diffidence?

Light's half-smile is as perfect as if he'd been expecting someone; he almost reflects the sun overhead.]

Hello there.

[refractings]

[Light raises his eyebrows a bit; he doesn't recognize this double, but the double seems to recognize him.] Have we met before?

[He's not the type to forget such things, but all bets are pretty much off in the Mansion.]

[cataract]

Not in person.

[The smile brightens a little further, radiating self-confidence, before fading. It's an odd question for a dream to ask; looking up towards the sky, which is a vivid blue, he experiments with speeding up some of the flitting white cirrus clouds. They're unimpressed.]

I didn't quite expect to run into myself today. I think it might be the first time.

[refractings]

The first time?

You must be very new, then... although the Mansion seems to pull people towards new arrivals. Maybe we were all busy at the time... Or did the room make you? [He's never heard of a room that generates alternates, but he doesn't see why it wouldn't be possible.

The grass is very inviting. He turns until he's facing away from the other Light and then reclines, arms behind his head, his body stretching parallel to his alternate's with his feet facing the opposite direction. His head is about even with his alternate's; if they turned towards each other they would be looking into each other's faces, but Light chooses to gaze at the sky. It's so wide, so far away.]

[cataract]

[Light casts a glance towards the other boy as he lies down, then looks back to the sky: whatever works for him. It is a beautiful day, and as yet, he's not worried about bugs in his hair, or dirt on his clothes, beyond reason, or anything besides keeping one step ahead of L - who is, just for now, not the most interesting thing in his head.

The weird details don't flit out of Light's other ear - mansion, new arrivals, rooms ... you must be new. Is it possible this isn't a dream at all?]

Did the room make me? What, out of dreams you've forgotten?

[It's said with a small laugh, which Light's alternate will likely recognise as fake. The quote, from an old Star Trek episode, may or may not go unnoticed.]

[refractings]

[Bugs and dirt are small prices to pay for the clouds and the breeze that ripples the grass. Light wonders if the room has boundaries, or if the fields just continue forever. Candide rests face-down near his stomach. His double's words sound familiar, but he can't place their source; he isn't particularly bothered.]

Perhaps, or maybe out of an archetype, or according to its own whims. But I think it's more likely that you exist apart from it. Am I right?

[cataract]

[There's the smell of the grass, too, and the soil beneath it. Cicadas are chirping somewhere, but not in their hundreds of thousands, and not close by enough to be intrusive.]

Oh, I exist well enough. But then, I would say that, wouldn't I?

[It strikes Light as unlikely that this is one of L's tricks. To make him see and hear things, with this much clarity? Impossible. And it can't be insanity; Light is the sanest person he knows.]

You're as real as I am, I suppose? Not a dream, not a hallucination. Like me, but not.

[refractings]

[Light smiles lazily.] You probably would.

I'm quite real. Whether I'm as real as you depends on how real you are. But then, are the things created by the Mansion less real at all... This place opens up a whole range of questions.

[By "this place" he means the Mansion, not the field -- he still believes that his alternate either came into the room through the same door he did (the same door on this side, at least) or was fabricated by the room itself. Or perhaps the Mansion pulled him from his universe and dropped him here, instead of in a corridor, but he's already explained why that's unlikely.]

[cataract]

We're back to Descartes, aren't we? One of us isn't real, and it's not me. It's something of a pointless argument.

[On the other side of his face, Light returns the smile he can hear, albeit with more of an edge. The reflection thinks around problems the same way Light does, the same way L does.]

You called this a room. This is a created place. It's not what it seems.

[refractings]

Mm. [Light isn't overly concerned; the setting is relaxing him as much as the forest room would. The tense, hunted, trapped feeling he often gets in the corridors of the Mansion dissolves into the air.]

It's a room for me. It may well be something else for you. [Who knows what the doors in the Mansion actually lead to? If it can pull people in from different dimensions, there's no reason it couldn't create portals to them as well. Perhaps this is a dream setting, or an actual self-contained universe that they've both been spirited away to.]

[He lifts his head far enough to free an arm, which he uses to gesture in the direction he came from. The door is still there, just as out-of-place as it was before.] I got here through a door back that direction. Is it visible to you?

[cataract]

[Propping himself up on one arm, Light looks over in the direction the other one's indicating. There's nothing but the fields, with hedgerows marking them out, with plants scrambling upwards here and there. But there's nothing like a door - in the middle of a field?]

No, I don't see it. But you never know.

You do mean something conventional, and not more supernatural? I'd hate to think I should be looking in the clouds.

[It isn't a sideways method of asking are you Kira; while he's hard to disconcert, Light's accustomed to one world, and one of himself, and his crazy ambitions and purpose are the core thing that defines him.]

[refractings]

The door looks conventional enough from this side of the field. But any door that has two different things behind it depending on the vantage point fits fairly neatly into my definition of the supernatural.

[cataract]

Two different things ...

[It doesn't occur to him that it might simply be a lie; it's not Light's style to spin such bizarrely illogical stories. It irks him that he can't see the door; his mouth slants at one corner, more amused-looking than anything else. Maybe if he closes his eyes and makes it an order? Fall into line, dream-reality.

He gives the other boy a careful look before flopping back down to look at the clouds. Something elusive and different in his face, his manner. Is he supposed to be younger? What Light was, as opposed to what he is?]

Or maybe it's just a matter of perspective. Some odd trick of spacetime. Or relativity.

[refractings]

[Light has been assuming that this alternate is Kira. Err on the side of caution, and whatnot. He's surprised by how comfortable he is with the idea. It's probably a side effect of his determination to be relaxed. He closes his eyes and basks.]

We can debate the nature of the supernatural if you'd like, possibly-existent-me, but I don't think we'll come to any real conclusions. [He sounds bizarrely at peace with this lack of knowledge.]

[cataract]

No, probably not.

[This time last year, he might have argued that the supernatural couldn't exist, by definition. Just for fun. How times change.]

I suppose once you've seen it for yourself, it stops being an issue. It must be annoying, to have an answer to something like that.