(no subject)
Light Yagami has never liked being devoid of control.
It's this general displeasure that colors his disposition now, jaw set, expression grim-- it's almost to be expected.
His world is shaken up, and he Doesn't Like It, as much, perhaps, as he doesn't like criminals and the scum of the world.
But it's worse. He's found himself, here, Note-less, and, unwilling to ask anyone for help-- much like men don't like to help for direction, as a general rule, though Light is far worse about this particular thing, to be fair-- has found himself a library and is pouring through the pages to see if he can't find anything that might give him some amount of hope in this rather dismal excuse of what, for now, he's declared an Afterlife.
It's this general displeasure that colors his disposition now, jaw set, expression grim-- it's almost to be expected.
His world is shaken up, and he Doesn't Like It, as much, perhaps, as he doesn't like criminals and the scum of the world.
But it's worse. He's found himself, here, Note-less, and, unwilling to ask anyone for help-- much like men don't like to help for direction, as a general rule, though Light is far worse about this particular thing, to be fair-- has found himself a library and is pouring through the pages to see if he can't find anything that might give him some amount of hope in this rather dismal excuse of what, for now, he's declared an Afterlife.