[It wasn't safety, alone, that provoked Mello to keep his sleeping area out of view from Beyond's. Maybe he murmurs in his sleep. Speaks, even, though he highly doubts it.
And in retrospect, that was a stupid worry, wasn't it? Because of this. No matter how far he is, no matter how much he tries to isolate himself, there's no getting rid of this motherfucker until it comes to an inevitable conclusion.
His stare into the screen is equally blank, and his back is now settled against the cool rock wall, hair in his eyes, and legs stretched out before him.]
I know you do.
[And that isn't any less sincere. Because Mello knows what it's like. All too clearly. Only his was a different kind of want. One born of anger and desperation, doing what he could to survive, and even though L's death was the one thing that drove him, he kept thinking that it had to be a bunch of bullshit. Another test. The ultimate test, maybe. And it was when he was at his worst; half-starved and spending hours on end planning things that someone of his age had no business doing, when he thought that the one thing that would fix everything would be to find out that L had been dicking them all- it was then that he'd take a second, push everything down, and just think, I want to see him.
[ audio | private ]ls_rueflectionJuly 12 2010, 21:05:43 UTC
[It is with great effort that Beyond manages to avoid snorting and commenting on the very unsatisfactory response, but he controls it. He switches to audio, knowing that any sweep of a scowl or disgust may ruin his chances as well. Mihael may chock it up to whatever he wishes. He considers, hard, how to go about this. This is a brief pause, the sound of his voice growing louder as he shifts his head back towards the mouthpiece.]
Mihael didn't need to force it. [It's almost accusing, though it was supposed to be something of a plea. Likely not soft enough.] He came to you before you came to him. He talked to you.
Why can't I talk to him?
[He shifts, expecting a negative response, mentions of murder and the usual cliche shit. When it sends, he spits to the side, irritated by the thought.
[ audio | private ]searedsuccessorJuly 12 2010, 21:16:07 UTC
[There were never really any details as to what went on with the first generation. Only that A got overwhelmed, took his own life as a result, and B went and defied L; perhaps the biggest dumbshit move he could have pulled.]
No. I didn't need to force it. [A half-truth. He's not going to divulge how he pestered Roger, pulled fits, did everything in his power to get L to visit. And how it never worked. He understands the frustration, in that respect.] You don't know shit about L, you just want to see him suffer for a bunch of choices you made. He didn't make you a murderer. You did whatever the fuck you wanted.
[Much like Mello, maybe. He swallows, shifts against the wall.]
And you had a chance to talk to him. You fucked it up. Blame yourself.
The bindings work at his wrist, tender skin chaffing and, finally, frustrated and uninterested in playing twister for this fuckin' prick, he slips towards the cave coral. Raw skin grows redder with the movements, uneven stone tearing at the makeshift rope and skin simultaneously-- until it's hanging by a thread. A snap and hiss as he pulls his hands before him, rubbing at the shredded flesh, smearing the occasional steam of red over his forearm. It is because of this endeavor that, when he responds, over several minutes has passed.]
I never had a chance. [Snaps.]
You came after. And he decided that conversing with his damn spares might, maybe, perhaps, be important. [Chuckles bitterly.] Convenient, that.
[And he grumbles this time, voice steadily picking up venom which seems to grow in potency.]
Mimi's judging without facts because he's heavily biased; not curious because he's assuming me to be wrong; not attempting to understand because, if he does, he will be challenging his own admiration of that man. No, L couldn't possibly have done anything to deserve my hatred-- no, of course not. Oh, he facilitated my murder, but that's different than B murdering. Who th'bloody fuck knows why, but it is-- just because he's L-.
[Inhales hard, cutting his rant off and releasing the button because he's just wound up, too much so clearly. Being judged by someone who could just -- let him see L, talk to him. Why is it that he can never have anything without taking? And then they seem horrified that he did end up taking.]
[And B's working himself up again. It seems like an hourly occurrence, and it's something that's wearing on Mello's nerves more and more, each time it happens. If Beyond would just calm the fuck down for more than five minutes at a time, he wouldn't be treated like a goddamn animal.
Doesn't he realize this?
He rubs over his eyes in annoyance, gripping the Hitomi tightly as Mello pushes himself up from the wall, allowing another stretch before he heads over with heavy steps to B's sleeping area.
And yeah, Mello and Matt fucked him up good. But it was earned, justified, and he refuses to feel any guilt about it. He notes the freed hands, and really- Mello didn't expect him to stay tied up for long. Just long enough for him to relax, get a little sleep, which he did. So mission accomplished, in that respect.]
Don't start acting up again. [His words are calm, nonthreatening, and Mello walks over to the crazy son of a bitch, squats down before him.] One thing that you need to learn about me is that not playing nice isn't gonna get you favorable results. [There's blood on the other's arm, his wrists are raw, and idly, Mello wonders what the risk of infection is, if they're left untreated. A frown.]
[Beyond's palms alternated rubbing each forearm, eyes downcast stubbornly when the blond, predictably, entered the break-off cavern. He's not frowning or scowling despite the snapping, as though indifferent to his newly acquired company and merely focused on cleaning himself up. Beads of red and smears of black have ruined the sleeves and he's sure, that combined with his overall appearance hasn't added much to his physical mimicry. The orders are soft, but annoying nonetheless.
His face relaxes, disinterested, bored, and he is still distracted, seemingly oblivious, because those sleeves are so very sullied. Really, he has no interest in pressing this further for it will lead to another altercation and, clearly, that is a poor option while Mihael has a partner.[
Neither will playing nice.
[He snorts, murmuring the words in a monotone voice, hushed since he's fairly certain it's audible at this proximity. He grunts.]
Because I'm not gonna worry about your ass when your body is rotting from infection.
[Not that it really matters. B dies, B comes back. That knowledge is a constant annoyance. And it also makes Mello wonder why anyone here would give half a shit about their health at all.]
And we have somewhere to go.
[Yomisato, specifically. He hardly knows what's there, only that it's somewhere besides here. And while B might be content hibernating in a fucking cave, Mello is not. Part of him is a social creature, by nature, and being confined to one place with one person isn't sitting well with him. Worst case scenario: it sucks and they come back. It can't be all that bad.
Keeping a wary eye on his captive, his hands reach down, begin undoing the binds around B's ankles.]
We're not going to end up like this again, understand? I'm gonna untie you, we're gonna go down to the stream, you'll clean yourself up, and there aren't going to be any complications. I've got shit I wanna see, and since you have the pleasure of being in my company, you get to tag along.
Ha, worry. Wouldn't that be a positive? I can't strangle you when I'm in that much pain.
[His hand immediately smacks the offending hands, working at undoing his ankle bindings himself; there isn't a word as he works the loose end through the loops and knots, rope going slack around. He doesn't really feel like a morning trek and he sure as hell doesn't feel like dealing with Mihael. Not only due to this, but before, costing him his information. Light Yagami may still be awaiting his arrival, though it is more likely that he has left-- what time... day is it?
His head is still throbbing, brain swelling against the forefront of his skull and he's occasionally aware of a dull thrum, a ringing, much too loud to be his blood pumping in the utter silence.]
I'm not doing anything you decide I'm doing.
I'm going to wash myself, you're going to stop talking down to me and I'm going to leave when I so please. [Snorts.] You have no reason to keep this up.
[Another warning. Beyond doesn't seem to realize that he's surviving on a series of warnings. Only because death isn't death here, because indulging in the momentary loss of his temper won't do a fucking thing besides escalate things again and again.
Insanity is the act of repeating the same motions, expecting different results.
This is pressing.]
You're a threat to one of the only people that I give a shit whether or not he's threatened. You became my problem and I'm fucking tired of repeating myself. If I have to drag your dead body with me to Yomisato, then that's what's gonna happen. I'm not playing games with you. [He speaks clearly, as though B is a child. Seems necessary.]
Would you shut up? Always talking and talking, thinking I'm listening.
[He yawns for effect and lowers himself enough to take the crawl to the main cave, flinchign subtly here and there. It's like crawling on scalding sandpaper, upturned stone edges prodding at sensitive muscles and evoking a low grunt.]
Drag my corpse-- It won't be me any longer, as we've discovered through your human experiment~.
[Chuckles.]
You're choosing to play games if you -- [He pauses, pulling himself from the crawl and to his feet, wincing faintly. Long strides towards the exit resume.] -- choose to hold me against my will.
[And Mello follows, resisting the urge to wrap his fingers around B's ankle and drag him back on his face. Another pointless scuffle. Another body laid out over the ground, and for what?
God, he hates this place.
A change of strategy, then.]
Yomisato's supposed to be this huge, bustling place. Markets and shit. Bet you could find some makeup, there. [A pause, and he's stepping over random rocks strewn about.] Because right now, you look nothing like L. Berries and chalk aren't doing shit for you.
[Beyond purses his lips; does Mihael believe him so simple-minded as to miss that fairly blatant tactic change? Hands pat his shirt off, smearing the black, and eyes slip back to the blond, considering. He doesn't exactly wish to meet with L or this Light Yagami, who has obviously seen L, with his imitationg so very shattered. It would also be difficult to plan another meeting when the blond and his puppy jumps his ass again.
He perks up slightly, though his eyes remain generally unfocused and that ringing hasn't died yet.
Hums.]
Does Mimi reallyyyyy want me to come~?
[Doesn't leave room to answer, continuing onwards somewhat slowly so as to disguise the increasing nausea.]
I suppose... -- will they have dye, then~?
[He did mention the berried. And yes, it's somewhat embarassing, enough so to make him grateful for not facing the bastard, to think he's so fuckin' off at the moment. So bare. It's fuckin' uncomfortable as hell; perhaps moreso than the cuts, gashes and potential concussion.]
[So easy. Though Mello is sure that B is going to make every step of the way a living hell. Something that he thinks he's going to have to learn to really ignore, as long as he is forced to endure the other's company.
If he has to put up with B emulating his mentor as a form of happiness to keep him quiet for a while, he supposes it won't do much harm. Disconcerting to look at, maybe. But nothing can possibly be worse than the way Beyond looks now: chalk, mud, berries, and blood making for a rather grotesque mask that he's glad he doesn't have to stare at, right now.]
No shit on the way, yeah? [Like it matters what he says. Like a fucking kid.]
Only if Mimi continues being a gentleman~ Offering to buy me make-up. ~
[He's humming still, despite the fact that the dull thrum is rattling his head, causing pricks of pain to interrupt the throbbing and forcing heavy lids shut against the moonlight. It's probably dim; it seems to be brighter than the slabs of white illuminating laboratories or hospital hallways. A hand raises to rub his left eye, a yawn escaping his mouth and he follows it up with a cracking stretch.
Beyond shrugs casually, hopping one of the larger streams and squatting down to wash his arms. Though roughed up, he lives his face generally untouched as he proceeds, attention on the water, the ripples as he scoops up puddles and applies them to his ankles and wrists.]
First I can't piss and now this. Bit controlling, yeah'?
[Of course, Mello doesn't have any money, at the moment. But B doesn't have to know that. And it has never stopped him before. He set out without a penny, and by the time he'd ended up here, Mello had managed to stash away quite a nice amount, aside from what he'd been spending. Which was a lot. Coming from nothing, he had no business with extravagant tastes, but something about pleather and his skin just didn't agree.]
Do whatever you've gotta do, then we're leaving. [And he leans back against a nearby tree, arms crossed over his chest. This one likes to procrastinate for no reason at all, doesn't he?]
And in retrospect, that was a stupid worry, wasn't it? Because of this. No matter how far he is, no matter how much he tries to isolate himself, there's no getting rid of this motherfucker until it comes to an inevitable conclusion.
His stare into the screen is equally blank, and his back is now settled against the cool rock wall, hair in his eyes, and legs stretched out before him.]
I know you do.
[And that isn't any less sincere. Because Mello knows what it's like. All too clearly. Only his was a different kind of want. One born of anger and desperation, doing what he could to survive, and even though L's death was the one thing that drove him, he kept thinking that it had to be a bunch of bullshit. Another test. The ultimate test, maybe. And it was when he was at his worst; half-starved and spending hours on end planning things that someone of his age had no business doing, when he thought that the one thing that would fix everything would be to find out that L had been dicking them all- it was then that he'd take a second, push everything down, and just think, I want to see him.
Pathetic, really.
Of course, B's reasons are entirely different.]
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Mihael didn't need to force it. [It's almost accusing, though it was supposed to be something of a plea. Likely not soft enough.] He came to you before you came to him. He talked to you.
Why can't I talk to him?
[He shifts, expecting a negative response, mentions of murder and the usual cliche shit. When it sends, he spits to the side, irritated by the thought.
Reply
No. I didn't need to force it. [A half-truth. He's not going to divulge how he pestered Roger, pulled fits, did everything in his power to get L to visit. And how it never worked. He understands the frustration, in that respect.] You don't know shit about L, you just want to see him suffer for a bunch of choices you made. He didn't make you a murderer. You did whatever the fuck you wanted.
[Much like Mello, maybe. He swallows, shifts against the wall.]
And you had a chance to talk to him. You fucked it up. Blame yourself.
Reply
The bindings work at his wrist, tender skin chaffing and, finally, frustrated and uninterested in playing twister for this fuckin' prick, he slips towards the cave coral. Raw skin grows redder with the movements, uneven stone tearing at the makeshift rope and skin simultaneously-- until it's hanging by a thread. A snap and hiss as he pulls his hands before him, rubbing at the shredded flesh, smearing the occasional steam of red over his forearm. It is because of this endeavor that, when he responds, over several minutes has passed.]
I never had a chance. [Snaps.]
You came after. And he decided that conversing with his damn spares might, maybe, perhaps, be important. [Chuckles bitterly.] Convenient, that.
[And he grumbles this time, voice steadily picking up venom which seems to grow in potency.]
Mimi's judging without facts because he's heavily biased; not curious because he's assuming me to be wrong; not attempting to understand because, if he does, he will be challenging his own admiration of that man. No, L couldn't possibly have done anything to deserve my hatred-- no, of course not. Oh, he facilitated my murder, but that's different than B murdering. Who th'bloody fuck knows why, but it is-- just because he's L-.
[Inhales hard, cutting his rant off and releasing the button because he's just wound up, too much so clearly. Being judged by someone who could just -- let him see L, talk to him. Why is it that he can never have anything without taking? And then they seem horrified that he did end up taking.]
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Doesn't he realize this?
He rubs over his eyes in annoyance, gripping the Hitomi tightly as Mello pushes himself up from the wall, allowing another stretch before he heads over with heavy steps to B's sleeping area.
And yeah, Mello and Matt fucked him up good. But it was earned, justified, and he refuses to feel any guilt about it. He notes the freed hands, and really- Mello didn't expect him to stay tied up for long. Just long enough for him to relax, get a little sleep, which he did. So mission accomplished, in that respect.]
Don't start acting up again. [His words are calm, nonthreatening, and Mello walks over to the crazy son of a bitch, squats down before him.] One thing that you need to learn about me is that not playing nice isn't gonna get you favorable results. [There's blood on the other's arm, his wrists are raw, and idly, Mello wonders what the risk of infection is, if they're left untreated. A frown.]
Get up.
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His face relaxes, disinterested, bored, and he is still distracted, seemingly oblivious, because those sleeves are so very sullied. Really, he has no interest in pressing this further for it will lead to another altercation and, clearly, that is a poor option while Mihael has a partner.[
Neither will playing nice.
[He snorts, murmuring the words in a monotone voice, hushed since he's fairly certain it's audible at this proximity. He grunts.]
Why?
[Meaning no.]
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[Not that it really matters. B dies, B comes back. That knowledge is a constant annoyance. And it also makes Mello wonder why anyone here would give half a shit about their health at all.]
And we have somewhere to go.
[Yomisato, specifically. He hardly knows what's there, only that it's somewhere besides here. And while B might be content hibernating in a fucking cave, Mello is not. Part of him is a social creature, by nature, and being confined to one place with one person isn't sitting well with him. Worst case scenario: it sucks and they come back. It can't be all that bad.
Keeping a wary eye on his captive, his hands reach down, begin undoing the binds around B's ankles.]
We're not going to end up like this again, understand? I'm gonna untie you, we're gonna go down to the stream, you'll clean yourself up, and there aren't going to be any complications. I've got shit I wanna see, and since you have the pleasure of being in my company, you get to tag along.
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[His hand immediately smacks the offending hands, working at undoing his ankle bindings himself; there isn't a word as he works the loose end through the loops and knots, rope going slack around. He doesn't really feel like a morning trek and he sure as hell doesn't feel like dealing with Mihael. Not only due to this, but before, costing him his information. Light Yagami may still be awaiting his arrival, though it is more likely that he has left-- what time... day is it?
His head is still throbbing, brain swelling against the forefront of his skull and he's occasionally aware of a dull thrum, a ringing, much too loud to be his blood pumping in the utter silence.]
I'm not doing anything you decide I'm doing.
I'm going to wash myself, you're going to stop talking down to me and I'm going to leave when I so please. [Snorts.] You have no reason to keep this up.
[And he's pushing himself up, dismissive.]
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[Another warning. Beyond doesn't seem to realize that he's surviving on a series of warnings. Only because death isn't death here, because indulging in the momentary loss of his temper won't do a fucking thing besides escalate things again and again.
Insanity is the act of repeating the same motions, expecting different results.
This is pressing.]
You're a threat to one of the only people that I give a shit whether or not he's threatened. You became my problem and I'm fucking tired of repeating myself. If I have to drag your dead body with me to Yomisato, then that's what's gonna happen. I'm not playing games with you. [He speaks clearly, as though B is a child. Seems necessary.]
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[He yawns for effect and lowers himself enough to take the crawl to the main cave, flinchign subtly here and there. It's like crawling on scalding sandpaper, upturned stone edges prodding at sensitive muscles and evoking a low grunt.]
Drag my corpse-- It won't be me any longer, as we've discovered through your human experiment~.
[Chuckles.]
You're choosing to play games if you -- [He pauses, pulling himself from the crawl and to his feet, wincing faintly. Long strides towards the exit resume.] -- choose to hold me against my will.
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God, he hates this place.
A change of strategy, then.]
Yomisato's supposed to be this huge, bustling place. Markets and shit. Bet you could find some makeup, there. [A pause, and he's stepping over random rocks strewn about.] Because right now, you look nothing like L. Berries and chalk aren't doing shit for you.
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He perks up slightly, though his eyes remain generally unfocused and that ringing hasn't died yet.
Hums.]
Does Mimi reallyyyyy want me to come~?
[Doesn't leave room to answer, continuing onwards somewhat slowly so as to disguise the increasing nausea.]
I suppose... -- will they have dye, then~?
[He did mention the berried. And yes, it's somewhat embarassing, enough so to make him grateful for not facing the bastard, to think he's so fuckin' off at the moment. So bare. It's fuckin' uncomfortable as hell; perhaps moreso than the cuts, gashes and potential concussion.]
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[So easy. Though Mello is sure that B is going to make every step of the way a living hell. Something that he thinks he's going to have to learn to really ignore, as long as he is forced to endure the other's company.
If he has to put up with B emulating his mentor as a form of happiness to keep him quiet for a while, he supposes it won't do much harm. Disconcerting to look at, maybe. But nothing can possibly be worse than the way Beyond looks now: chalk, mud, berries, and blood making for a rather grotesque mask that he's glad he doesn't have to stare at, right now.]
No shit on the way, yeah? [Like it matters what he says. Like a fucking kid.]
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[He's humming still, despite the fact that the dull thrum is rattling his head, causing pricks of pain to interrupt the throbbing and forcing heavy lids shut against the moonlight. It's probably dim; it seems to be brighter than the slabs of white illuminating laboratories or hospital hallways. A hand raises to rub his left eye, a yawn escaping his mouth and he follows it up with a cracking stretch.
Beyond shrugs casually, hopping one of the larger streams and squatting down to wash his arms. Though roughed up, he lives his face generally untouched as he proceeds, attention on the water, the ripples as he scoops up puddles and applies them to his ankles and wrists.]
First I can't piss and now this. Bit controlling, yeah'?
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Do whatever you've gotta do, then we're leaving. [And he leans back against a nearby tree, arms crossed over his chest. This one likes to procrastinate for no reason at all, doesn't he?]
Reply
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