[AnOTP]: For Pandora

[justiceis_red]

Light's been...thinking. Preoccupied, really, is probably a better word. He's sitting in his room with his head in his hands, eyes half closed and mind awhirl in a way it hasn't been since he first picked up the Death Note

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[pandora_antioch]

Pandora has a way of appearing in ways unexpected - playful, but with a touch of the disturbing, when she's interacting with mortals.

This time is no exception.

She's levitating in front of his window, in the dark, holding a box (inside, there's macha-flavored cake).

And she'll politely tap at the window, even if she could blast in at her whim.

[justiceis_red]

He hears something tap at the window, from deep in his reverie, and whirls around, distracted enough that he's a little jumpy. And speak of the devil, he can't help but think, or even think of, apparently.

And then he thinks to wonder how she got outside his window, and stands up, staring at her with noticeably cool eyes.

Just what I needed.

But she's already proven that she can get in where she wants, so he goes over and yanks the window open, schooling his expression to stillness and trying to get his thoughts to do the same. "I'd appreciate it," he says stiffly, "If you used the door."

[pandora_antioch]

Pandora looks terribly amused as she eases herself to sit on the windowsill, though she's not technically entering just yet. "Aaaw, so conventional, Light-kun," she tells him, and proffers him the box with the cake in it. "Here - I think this might be a token of my good faith."

[justiceis_red]

...Light stares at the cake, looks at her, looks back at the cake in moderate horror. Just how far did she go digging through his memories? Because between the name and the goddamn cake-

"I'm not really a sweets person," he says, a little acridly, "And I would appreciate it if you didn't call me that."

But on the other hand, he seems - resigned. After all, he's realized by now that there's not much he can do about her. And he is feeling curiously melancholy. It's not a good night to spend alone.

[pandora_antioch]

"You don't like sweets? Pity," she replies, and if he's giving her the cake back, she'll take it and ponder it playfully. "What should I do with it, then?"

She didn't pay attention to those details, Light - memory transfers are selective and erratic, particularly in the way that the Children of the Millenia perform them.

Note that she's not forcing herself more into his room - and is technically outside.

[justiceis_red]

"I never have," Light says, which isn't quite true - he did once, though never very much, but there are certain associations now that make it unpleasant. He holds it, still, but doesn't look like he knows what to do with it either. "I have no idea. Isn't that for you to decide?"

Again, that phrase; perhaps because he expects her to. Perhaps because he feels as though when she's there he doesn't have even the slightest bit of control over anything, and that frightens him. Light needs control. That and his pride are his lifeblood.

He turns around, sets the cake on a small table in his neat and slightly barren room. "You can come in, I suppose. Though I meant it about the door."

[pandora_antioch]

Pandora steps in gracefully, then, though it's more a glide than a step, really. She lands soundlessly on the floor.

"The cake is yours if you want it," she tells him. "My present to you - consider it a peace offering."

Her smile is kind, patient. There is less dominance in her than usual.

[justiceis_red]

He raises his eyebrows at her, and at the cake, though he almost smiles. Barely, maybe, but it's still an almost. "Thank you, I suppose. Though I have to wonder, a peace offering of what kind?"

Is anything ever as it seems with you?

He's still wary, mistrustful. He doesn't know what to make of her, and knowing that she can read him as easily as if he's wearing everything on his sleeve is - unnerving, to say the least.

He can only expect that she knows what he feels, what he thinks, at any given time. That kind of vulnerability...is too much.

[pandora_antioch]

She leans against the window. "The sincere kind," she replies quietly. "I've done plenty of thinking."

She looks away a moment.

"I owe you an apology."

[justiceis_red]

He blinks, thoroughly caught off guard. Which is unusual, for Light. He's used to being able to predict every move that everyone around him will make, but he didn't predict this.

"Why?" He asks, abruptly, and contained in that are several other questions - why now? Why offer? What are you planning, what do you mean?

But now there's uncertainty mixed with the wariness.

[pandora_antioch]

She leans against the wall, considers him.

"Because I misjudged you," she says slowly. "Mostly because I projected onto you my own memories and my own trauma. So for that, I apologize."

P.S. I kind of like you.

[justiceis_red]

If he was uncertain before, now he's just baldly surprised. And he can't, of course, say that she didn't exactly misjudge; the problem, more likely, was that she cut too close. Except that he is not a murderer. That point, he stands steady on.

"...accepted," he says, after a few moments, though he's still staring at her with his brow furrowed, as though trying to make her out. "Though I'm afraid I still don't understand."

And how unusual an admission is that!

[pandora_antioch]

That ... was also unexpected.

Pandora blinks.

"-- I'm sorry, what part?"

Almighty she might seem, but she is not. She caught onto his thought process, but she decided not to use that in the conversation.

[justiceis_red]

He seems surprised again at her asking. Doesn't she - but perhaps she's just being polite, but she seems surprised, genuinely, for the first time... "Anything," he blurts out, after a moment. "Why you're here, why you're - doing what you're doing. What your intentions are."

[pandora_antioch]

Pandora takes a moment. She's completely inexpressive. Then she says, slowly...

"I have not been stirred by a mortal in a very long time, Light."

[justiceis_red]

He blinks, staring at her just for a moment, perhaps a small blush of potential misinterpretation spreading on his face, much as he tries to suppress it. "I - beg your pardon?"