♛ .o5 ♛
The sun has returned.
The 'Sun' has not.
[He places an odd emphasis on 'sun,' and there's another period of silence. The camera is aimed at the window, at the sky outside.]
Without the Sun, [the emphasis again] there should be no Moon.
[...]
I wonder.
[MORE SILENCE.]
What does darkness mean to you?
The 'Sun' has not.
[He places an odd emphasis on 'sun,' and there's another period of silence. The camera is aimed at the window, at the sky outside.]
Without the Sun, [the emphasis again] there should be no Moon.
[...]
I wonder.
[MORE SILENCE.]
What does darkness mean to you?
Penetrating, that increasingly familiar sensation of unfamiliar sensations. His shoulder lift somewhat and, sweet rice snack handing from his mouth, he turns and bites fully, urging it aside.
Had Shirley not disturbed his work so abruptly those times, this may have been particularly disconcerting.]
Very impressive skill set. [He manages calmly between bites, expression devoid of the faint unease that accompanies an unplanned privacy trespass.] Though a live show wasn't necessary.
[Oh, and do excuse the mess.
Splayed notes, food wrappers scattered about, cups -mostly near empty- and there may be several carnival-won prizes lying about the bed by his desk.]
( ooc: If you'd like it to be more specific/include less guesswork <3 - http://l-shrugged.livejournal.com/2494.html )
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[He stares, silent, for a few moments -- for what reason is questionable. Hades looks in a few ways even odder than L, especially in the cluttered room. He moves about a foot closer, picking his way through the items.]
I thought that a face-to-face demonstration would be most effective.
[And there's a rather smug smile on his face as Hades inclines his head.]
Any requirements?
[He looks around, floor-length black hair almost blending with the fur on his legs, perhaps for any obstructions.]
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[Not surprisingly.
As far as the supernatural extends, his skills seem to include a faint tug of sensation related to his company's particular mindset. Useful, in some ways, but not comparable to teleportation; certainly not the creation of total darkness. And the man's appearance does strike him as a fair bit more odd than the Forge initially expressed, but it leaves his expression unfazed.]
I'm not certain it's the most suitable of locations.
[In reference to the moving of items. He does need to hire a butler. And wide eyes set that less than humble face.]
I'd prefer that the demonstration doesn't damage our surroundings.
[For one, it is his apartment.
And, more importantly, his notes are present. His hands are carefully urging the current pile into the uppermost drawer before he fully offers his guest his attention, knees against chest.]
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It will suffice.
[In theory, he could cast the entirety of Anatole into darkness, but that's boring, because no one would be around afterwards to talk about it.]
It should not cause any damage.
[Well, it hasn't happened before, so...
He glances back at the smaller man for a brief moment before simply looking out the window, and without ceremony or warning, the room goes black. It's not night-time black, it's pure Darkness (capital 'D' included). And if L is careful, he'll notice what sounds like a whisper and yet can't really be heard -- the sound of 'Madness.'
Hades is careful to cut it off before it gets any louder (wouldn't want anyone to go mad, after all), but leaves the Darkness in place until L says anything.]
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His gaze drops to his hand, or where he believes his hand to be based on his spatial awareness - which is growing more and more obscured by the second. The shift of his feet over the cloth-clad seat is audible, very much so, and he glances deeper into the darkness for his guest.
It's not use, the visual is no different whether his eyes are open or closed.
Steady tone and his voice seems to carry such importance in the absolute quiet that accompanies the black.]
This is simple?
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He hears the man shift even as Hades himself stands motionless where he had been before. He keeps his eyes open, but for what purpose is uncertain.]
Simple enough.
[His voice seems to come from just behind L and everywhere at once.]
'The absence of light' indeed.
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Grounding.
By the way, thank you for blowing his understanding of the natural laws to hell.]
How?
[It's comprehendable, given the appropriate powers - but even that shouldn't be accepted, that supernatural powers of this sort exist. Then again, the notebook -
Ah, but they are operating in another world entirely.
This fact is perhaps what settles his racing mind.]
How do your abilities manage this?
[Fingers bend before his eyes, attempting to overcome the darkness with proximity and, clearly, fails.]
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How?
[Hades makes a considering kind of sound, and there's a shuffling noise that might be him crossing his arms. Or it might be him moving closer. (Hopefully the former; it's less probably unsettling.)]
Hmph.
It is the 'absence of light.' The 'deficiency of photons.' 'Loneliness.' The 'absence.'
[A huff of breath that might be a laugh.]
It is a thing to control and a domain of mine.
Have you seen [he's probably smiling right now] enough?
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And interpreting the insufficient explanation as best one might be able; it's not enough.
Perhaps it is far too natural for the other "man" to explain properly - or he's not willing to share the specifics. Either way, the detective is put at a definite loss and there is mild unease, stifled, suppressed, and yet, closer to the surface, there's curiosity.]
And something that you would consider less simple? Complex, perhaps?
[Some variety of a negative response in answering the query with a question.
And it's fairly surreal, moreso than usual, in absolute darkness, eyes open, and those sensations that are not yet familiar. A distant constant, some variety of emotion provoking an itch at his right cheekbone. The back of his hand idly brushes over the irritation.]
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[A pause, and in the darkness it's not hard to imagine him smiling. His voice still has that odd, almost echo-like quality, coming in from all sides.]
To live. To rot.
Have you done either?
[There's another rustle from just behind L as Hades shifts.]
Have you seen? [Anything?]
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He wants to glance, observe and probably stare for a reaction as he converses, but the black remains stifling.]
Is it natural that you speak like so? [The tone is sincere, despite any negative implications the words may have, alone, expressed.] Romantic notions, vague truths and philosophical idling --
[Absent hum, establishing the rhetorical nature of his query.]
I have lived. [Offhanded.] Rotting is not common, though this city seems to encourage it.
[Blinks into black, unable to differentiate the shift from his eyelid to a view of his apartment and guest.]
You're an important figure in your verse, mm?
[If his pride isn't leaking this information blatantly enough.]
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It is how I usually converse.
[He doesn't mention why.]
There are enough vague truths to construct a falsehood.
'Have' lived -- then, you have already gone?
All things human will rot. [Almost dismissive.]
-- important, yes. Not favored.
[That doesn't stop him from sounded pleased about it.]
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[The words cushion, intent primarily aimed at further prodding and information gathering.]
Mmmmno. Or, at least, I cannot be sure. Perhaps this is the afterlife.
[L doesn't sound convinced. Or resigned.]
All things... including the soul, then? Or do you question the existence thereof?
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[Terror, amazement, envy, indifference (rarely) -- the list goes on.]
It isn't.
[Not for Hades, anyway. As far as he knows, there won't be an afterlife for him.]
All things. The soul -- is it human? [A question directed at L rather than rhetoric.]
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[Go on, it implies, though this man does seem to enjoy lining his words with mystery and ambiguity.]
Given that it exists.
[Doubt, there.
It's a possibility, however.]
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[He doesn't know where it is at all - but that just makes it more interesting.]
A given, yes.
To come through the doors and remain could be harder.
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