spes ancora vitae
L has been keeping to himself, more or less, since his leg healed, but regular trips to the largest of the libraries are always on his agenda. As such, he spends much of his time reading. Tonight it's I, Claudius, which isn't holding his attention as well as he would like.
He rests in bed, propped up on pillows, his legs stretched out in front of him. Misa sprawls next to him, reading a magazine that she's managed to find somewhere. It might be any time of day, but his body and the lack of false daylight streaming in through the windows in their bedroom both tell him that it's probably closing in on midnight -- the moonlight, as fake as everything else, is silver in a dark blue velvet sky.
He shifts position, rolling on his side to face Misa, shifting the pillows that support his head. Before resuming his reading, he pauses to look at her. He likes the curve of her eyelashes against her cheek. As such, he tugs at the top of the spine of her magazine, then cranes his neck to try to kiss her forehead. He takes care to exaggerate the forlorn quality of his facial expression.
[Thread is private to firm_detective and misamisal. Adult content in its second half, but no smut tags. Translation: Hope is the anchor of life.
With regard to the injury mentioned here, it was an IC explanation for L's absence from the main community: he fell on some ice in one of the winter rooms and sprained his ankle and knee, and it took several months to heal.]
He rests in bed, propped up on pillows, his legs stretched out in front of him. Misa sprawls next to him, reading a magazine that she's managed to find somewhere. It might be any time of day, but his body and the lack of false daylight streaming in through the windows in their bedroom both tell him that it's probably closing in on midnight -- the moonlight, as fake as everything else, is silver in a dark blue velvet sky.
He shifts position, rolling on his side to face Misa, shifting the pillows that support his head. Before resuming his reading, he pauses to look at her. He likes the curve of her eyelashes against her cheek. As such, he tugs at the top of the spine of her magazine, then cranes his neck to try to kiss her forehead. He takes care to exaggerate the forlorn quality of his facial expression.
[Thread is private to firm_detective and misamisal. Adult content in its second half, but no smut tags. Translation: Hope is the anchor of life.
With regard to the injury mentioned here, it was an IC explanation for L's absence from the main community: he fell on some ice in one of the winter rooms and sprained his ankle and knee, and it took several months to heal.]