see what you did there

[righteous_pen]

[The Mansion won't let anyone keep their secrets for long. Mikami should have remembered that. There'll always be a room that isn't the kitchen, right when you need it the least.

His body is covered in words. Covered in names, scrawled over every inch of his skin, dense and overlapping but most of them all too legible. The ink is wet. It won't

Comments

[misamisal]

::There's a strange sensation that over takes her as she enters the room, and it hurts. Bones shift and pull, expand, contract, and it feels as if something has reached into her mind and ripped out...something. She suddenly can't remember much of anything at all

[firm_detective]

*L is doubled over in pain on the floor, one fist folded against his chest.*

*He tries to say her name -- questioning -- but no sound comes out; his fingers twitch in her direction.*

[misamisal]

::seeing a movement out of the corner of her eyes, she turns and sees a man on the floor. It's obvious he's in pain and for some reason, her chest aches, as if the mere sight of him causes something inside her to twist. She grimaces, but makes her way over to him, floating a few inches above the ground, large dark wings spread out behind her::

::When she reaches him, she kneels down in front of him so they are more of less at the same height. Looking over his head, she notes that his lifespan is not by any means short, so whatever is hurting him, it seems it will not kill him. Wait, how did she know that? And the letters...why are they so familier::

You are in pain...I'm sorry. But it seems it will not kill you.
::her voice is sad, but truthful. Her gaze holds on her face, slightly confused, expression pained::
...why are you so familier?

[firm_detective]

*He manages to gasp out, in the smallest voice,*

Misa -- it is -- heart. Dying. You --

*His hand moves, again, as he tries to reach for her.*

[misamisal]

::she shakes her head, her voice lowering slightly::
No, no you're not dying...I can plainly see your lifespan, it's no where near finished.

::at his movement, as he's trying to reach her, her head tilts slightly, confused. Why would he want to touch her, the way she looks... but, gingerly, she reaches her slightly detached, strangely petrified skined hand to his, the long, bone fingers curling delicately around his palm. She waits for his reaction, her pained, nearly unearthly voice passing over her scratchy looking lips::
Please be still. Perhaps, the pain will pass with rest.

[firm_detective]

*When she takes his hand with her dry one, there is a faint measure of comfort -- psychological comfort -- but it does nothing to dull the pain.*

It is -- failure. You can see?

*He refers to his lifespan, but somewhere in his mind, he is putting together what has happened to her.*

What are you?

[misamisal]

::she nods slightly::
Yes, I can see. I can see your name too. It's a strange one...just a letter for your first name...

::His words sting slightly, and she lowers her eyes a bit::
I am a shinigami, but...I feel strange. As if I am not complete. I don't know how I got here...or...how I came to be this way...I'm not sure why I am telling you, but, something about you makes me feel comfortable.
::It's then that she remembers he used her name::
You knew my name. How did you know my name?

[firm_detective]

Not a shini--. The room. Change.

*His grip on her hand grows tighter.*

[misamisal]

The room changes? ...oh the room changes those inside...that would explain why you will not die from this. Perhaps that would explain the holes in my memory as well...

::She thinks a moment and the tightness on her hand increases. He wanted to hold her hand..he wanted her to be near her, and he knew her name. He must be someone close to her, what else could explain it. The thought of this makes the ache grow larger, and suddenly she's sobbing slightly, without tears. Sitting on the floor, she gently takes him in her arms, cradling him against her like a child::
I'm sorry. You must know me, I'm sorry I don't remember. I'm surry you're hurting, I wish I could stop it for you.

[firm_detective]

*He cries out when she takes him into her arms -- a hoarse grunt. It is comforting to be held, but also painful, and all the textures of her new body are strange and cold.*

We -- out.

*He thinks that getting out of the room will help both of them, but he is unable to move more than an inch or two at a time. The cost, in agony, is excruciating. He now feels as if something is trying to claw its way out of his chest. An attempt to touch her face results in his hand falling back against him.*

[misamisal]

::raising his hand to her face, she holds it there, walking back to where she first appeared -
and there is no door.::
::She continues to cradle him against her chest, sadly::
There seems to be no door. I'm sorry. Is there anything else I can do to help make you more comfortable?

[firm_detective]

*He is able to shake his head without much effect on his pain, and he presses the palm of his hand to her cheek.*

Sit.

*A thought runs through his head -- she's nothing but skin and bones -- but he can't articulate it, so he clings to her as much as he can. Then, at the back of his mind, he thinks, I am seeking comfort from a shinigami, because of a heart attack that would have been caused by another shinigami -- it is ridiculous. The dead flowers in her chest rub against his arms, where they crumble to dust.*

*He makes a strange noise -- a dry, strangled chuckle. It causes him to wince.*

Not always like this.

[misamisal]

::she sits on the floor without any noise in front of the area where the door should be::

What is not always like this? The door? ...my skin?

[firm_detective]

You. Every...thing.

*His hand falls back against his chest again. Her dry, skeletal fingers are still her fingers. Her presence does nothing to reduce his agony, in the physical sense, but he likes knowing that she's there. It has become customary for him to reach for her when he is weak.*

Stay.

[misamisal]

::she nods::
It is alright, I won't leave you.

...I hope we can leave here soon. I want to know more about what I used to be. I cannot remember much, only feelings. I feel a strong attachment to you in particular.

[firm_detective]

*He rests his head against her, continuing to clutch at his chest, wondering why he's still conscious at all. He isn't crying, but moisture streams from his eyes and runs into his hair.*

Yours.