( what we are becomes our prison )

[[OOC: Yes, this is a crossover with Neil Gaiman's Sandman, for which I am no doubt going to RP hell. Is it DR-canon? You decide. Light will never remember. Leads directly into this.]]
( freezing hands and bloodless veins as numb as i've become )

Mikami has been gone ten minutes - unless he's still huddled in the corridor, where Light heard him fall. Sayu is also still gone, and Light is trying to feed her.
( never dissipating, but giving us strength )

It's a normal day. Somewhere in the mansion, people are always sleeping. Light is not one of them.
( Read more... )

It's late. Light is sleeping.
( [nsfw] the things we don't admit to ourselves. )

The phone call was the worst part.

Light had sat for five minutes, staring at the handset. (he'd spun off an unnecessary tangent, before catching hold of himself: international calls from hotels never get any cheaper, at least it's an online phone) He found he'd rather face Near, or even L again, a hundred times over. Better that, than pass on the ( Read more... )

[[OOC: Note that this is *not* canon, just what happens when I get smacked with impossible plotlines.]]

It's the mansion. A bedroom. Somewhere they can be alone.
( Read more... )

Funerals were always about putting things behind you: the person, the memories. They were a boundary, that let you look back and see the past with a fresh perspective. On one side, the history you shared with the deceased - on the other, your life after it ( Read more... )

Light is increasingly aware that his need to gloat is a tremendous weakness, which contributed to getting him killed. He's always been a bad loser: the psych profile on his father's computer had read immature ... hates to lose. He'd laughed at the first part, considering himself particularly mature for 17, but not the second ( Read more... )