All in all, Light decided, he was having a bad day.
He hadn't got into the tower in any sort of exciting way. No, he'd fallen asleep at his desk (homework, nothing more), and when he'd woken - well, he'd been alerted to a problem by the texture of the table beneath his face. Some sort of rough wood, not the smooth melamine of his desk. Some sort of rough, sticky wood.
Was he dreaming? No, it couldn't be. His dreams were vivid enough - more so than his daily life, at times - but they didn't feel like this, sticky against his face and hands, and damp in his shirtsleeves, and the smell- And when he unglued his eyes - it's in my eyes, that's disgusting - the first thing he saw was Ryuk's idiot face grinning down at him. Still half-asleep, he pulled his mop of brown hair off the desk with an unimpressed squelch. "Did you do this?"
Wasn't me, Light, grinned the shinigami, invisible and inaudible to everyone else around. What's the matter? You don't like jam?
Azula was absolutely not amused. There were a lot of things that annoyed her. Waking up in a strange environment with absolutely no idea how she had gotten there was near the top of the list. Not being able to find a way out was even worse. She had been wandering around for about half an hour, and had eventually come to the conclusion that if she wanted to leave, she would have to be creative.
For the most part, the place seemed rather empty, and huge. Eventually, though, she knew she was bound to stumble across someone-- in her experience, places like this never just grabbed up only one person. Sure enough, as she pushed aside the curtain and peered into yet another room, she discovered that it had an occupant: a teenage boy.
And he appeared to be talking to himself. Great.
Walking over to him (or rather, squelching over to him, considering her shoes kept sticking in whatever the floor was made of), she cleared her throat loudly.
Light could quite happily have thrown a punch or two at Ryuk for that crack about jam, if not for the fact that the shinigami never let Light touch him. Besides, he'd cut off his murmured conversation as soon as he'd heard the curtain move.
The doleful glance back over his shoulder was rather as if his head was too heavy - weighted down by the jam, perhaps? His response sat there on the back of his tongue, ready to fly: You mean, apart from the self-evident fact that we're both stuck here in a puddle of jam? But he wouldn't ever let himself go like that. Instead, he did the girl the courtesy of seeming surprised, pulling both hands off the desk, with two quiet, sticky sounds. They hung in front of him as if he'd burned them.
"Ah, I'm afraid not, Miss-?"
It never hurt to be polite, after all, especially with someone this arrogant. They always showed themselves up, in the end.
"It's Fire Lord, actually-- Fire Lord Azula. You may call me Your Majesty if you prefer." It was always good to get that out of the way right off the bat; so many people seemed to think that it was perfectly okay to call someone of her position by solely their first name. Though this one seemed polite enough, at least-- perhaps he wouldn't give her any trouble.
"Have you ever been in a situation like this before? Being dragged away from your home with no explanation, that is." She hoped that he had; explaining this sort of thing to clueless people could get tiresome, and it would only waste time.
Predictably, Azula's introduction struck Light as pompous, and he grinned to himself. As I thought. She knows a few things which I need to know, and she thinks a lot of herself. So it shouldn't be too difficult, this, as long as I don't disturb her delusions.Turning properly in his chair, ignoring Ryuk's laughter in the background, Light considered the girl - and she was a girl; she couldn't be older than his sister Sayu. Her clothes were ... not exactly everyday, yet the stitching and the fabric didn't have the look of a cheap costume. But more than anything else, her imperious manner warned him off. Being in high school, he was accustomed to idiots throwing their imagined weight around, but the way this Azula carried herself didn't strike him in quite that way. It wasn't that he was naturally inclined to believe random claims of royalty - but he did believe his eyes, and there could be no doubt that the sticky room around him was very, very real. Light knew better than anyone that what you saw wasn't necessarily all there was, and
( ... )
Light, in turn, didn't strike her as particularly noteworthy or unusual-- she'd grown accustomed to seeing "typical Earth teenagers" around the community, and he didn't look much different from them to her. Still, that didn't necessarily mean he couldn't give her any useful information.
"It's not exactly routine, but I've fallen into similar situations in the past. By any chance, have you ever come across an internet community known as 'DramaDramaDuck?"
That was the first thing she needed to get out of the way; if he was from the community, then this was likely a virus. If he wasn't, then... well. The situation would probably turn out to be a bit more complicated, but by no means insurmountable. Nothing was insurmountable for her (or at least she told herself).
While Light wouldn't have described himself as "a typical Earth teenager", Azula's assessment wouldn't exactly have displeased him. It was the effect he aimed to give, after all; he took pride in how completely he concealed his true nature. Given that, it was possible he was about to get a bit of a shock. But the nature of it wasn't something he could predict, or even imagine, and he could imagine a great deal. Tilting his head as if in thought, he gave his response. A small tuft of hair clung to his ear before dropping sideways with a cringe-inducing flop
( ... )
"I see," Azula said carefully. She decided not to describe the community; if he wasn't used to this sort of thing, he probably wouldn't believe her. "That's unfortunate.
"I'm going to go look around some more." She started towards the door again. "You can come if you want, or you can stay here-- however, I intend to find a way out, so if you're the sort of person who's interested in chit-chit or making friends, I don't think we'll be of much use to each other." Her certainly didn't seem like that sort of person, but she wanted to make her intentions clear just in case.
He hadn't got into the tower in any sort of exciting way. No, he'd fallen asleep at his desk (homework, nothing more), and when he'd woken - well, he'd been alerted to a problem by the texture of the table beneath his face. Some sort of rough wood, not the smooth melamine of his desk. Some sort of rough, sticky wood.
Was he dreaming? No, it couldn't be. His dreams were vivid enough - more so than his daily life, at times - but they didn't feel like this, sticky against his face and hands, and damp in his shirtsleeves, and the smell- And when he unglued his eyes - it's in my eyes, that's disgusting - the first thing he saw was Ryuk's idiot face grinning down at him. Still half-asleep, he pulled his mop of brown hair off the desk with an unimpressed squelch. "Did you do this?"
Wasn't me, Light, grinned the shinigami, invisible and inaudible to everyone else around. What's the matter? You don't like jam?
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For the most part, the place seemed rather empty, and huge. Eventually, though, she knew she was bound to stumble across someone-- in her experience, places like this never just grabbed up only one person. Sure enough, as she pushed aside the curtain and peered into yet another room, she discovered that it had an occupant: a teenage boy.
And he appeared to be talking to himself. Great.
Walking over to him (or rather, squelching over to him, considering her shoes kept sticking in whatever the floor was made of), she cleared her throat loudly.
"Do you have any idea what's going on here?"
Reply
The doleful glance back over his shoulder was rather as if his head was too heavy - weighted down by the jam, perhaps? His response sat there on the back of his tongue, ready to fly: You mean, apart from the self-evident fact that we're both stuck here in a puddle of jam? But he wouldn't ever let himself go like that. Instead, he did the girl the courtesy of seeming surprised, pulling both hands off the desk, with two quiet, sticky sounds. They hung in front of him as if he'd burned them.
"Ah, I'm afraid not, Miss-?"
It never hurt to be polite, after all, especially with someone this arrogant. They always showed themselves up, in the end.
Reply
"Have you ever been in a situation like this before? Being dragged away from your home with no explanation, that is." She hoped that he had; explaining this sort of thing to clueless people could get tiresome, and it would only waste time.
Reply
Reply
"It's not exactly routine, but I've fallen into similar situations in the past. By any chance, have you ever come across an internet community known as 'DramaDramaDuck?"
That was the first thing she needed to get out of the way; if he was from the community, then this was likely a virus. If he wasn't, then... well. The situation would probably turn out to be a bit more complicated, but by no means insurmountable. Nothing was insurmountable for her (or at least she told herself).
Reply
Reply
"I'm going to go look around some more." She started towards the door again. "You can come if you want, or you can stay here-- however, I intend to find a way out, so if you're the sort of person who's interested in chit-chit or making friends, I don't think we'll be of much use to each other." Her certainly didn't seem like that sort of person, but she wanted to make her intentions clear just in case.
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