[But Light continues to watch the feed hungrily as though he's been starved for weeks--months, even--just in case this is some odd coincidence.
The facts so far coincide with what Light had carefully written into the Death Note-- Greed indeed posted a feed to the network at the correct time and date. The union of pen and paper, ideas manifesting into words, and from there, the subsequent translation into action, exactly as Light dictates is something that has, for so long, felt like a fond but distant memory.
Light himself hadn't even realized how much he had yearned for that giddy rush, the feeling that he could almost fly, in the time he had forcibly deprived himself of it at the Manor. He can feel his own heart rate beating faster in anticipation as Greed begins to approach the finale of his macabre act.]
[And then Greed impales himself. Greed dies. Just as planned. Gruesome, gory, beautiful death. Light watches it in silent awe. In any other situation, Light's stomach may have twisted into unhappy knots, but this time? Light feels nothing but euphoria filling his body like honeyed ambrosia. It works. Itworksitworksitworks! The laughter leaves his throat as easily--fluidly--as Greed's blood spills itself onto the carpet.
He laughs, and laughs and laughs, as he hasn't in months. In fact, he hasn't laughed this hard since L had fallen off his chair all those months ago. Except this time, he's free to do it without abandon. So much so that it's almost beginning to hurt trying to take in enough air between laughs for his own oxygen hungry heart to beat.
Is this what they mean by choking on your own laughter?
[Slowly the laughter subsides, and Light is left slightly out of breath and shakily gasping for air.
His skin tingles. Light feels... as his namesake: Radiant. Powerful. Alive. The panacea to his unbearable boredom has been re-discovered; the irony of a spiritual rebirth by an item called a "Death Note" is almost amusing enough to send Light back into fits of raucous delight, but he doesn't.
For now, Light is more than sated in knowing that he's no longer defenseless and powerless; he has the power that sent him to achieve his destiny as the rising God of the world back at his fingertips.
He could almost dance. Almost.
So what did it mean now? For all of his glee--It works!-- he's no idiot. Kira's enemies are still around, and death itself is not permanent in this dimension.
He casts an amused glance at the red flashes that mend Greed's torn up form. Immortality indeed. But by the nature of this place, everyone is immortal. Everyone is given a taste of the divine at the Manor.
But now, Light has more.The Death Note obviously
( ... )
[Well that was unexpected. It's a good thing that her child is asleep in his crib, rather than fiddling with her blackberry as he had been earlier. Not exactly child suitable material.]
[It's fascinating, in a morbid way. Lenalee has seen those of the Noah clan who refuse to die, and can sustain lethal injuries without truly being hurt. But it is different to have a front row seat with no distractions of battle to see the flesh and sinew weave themselves back together, to see someone so completely die and then come right back to life. It goes against everything she has ever been taught, and leaves her feeling vaguely nauseated.]
... What exactly was that supposed to prove?
[The dead stay dead, or are brought back as puppets; mockeries of their former selves. But that rule does not seem to apply to this man. Why?]
[[Greed's lounging on his bed, a pouted little look on his lips when he sees that yet again this is simply another one of 'those' types of replies.]]
That I'm not out to battle pussies. If I simply said "Anyone wanna go fight for a bit?" humans may show up. If humans showed up, it'd be a waste of my time.
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The facts so far coincide with what Light had carefully written into the Death Note-- Greed indeed posted a feed to the network at the correct time and date. The union of pen and paper, ideas manifesting into words, and from there, the subsequent translation into action, exactly as Light dictates is something that has, for so long, felt like a fond but distant memory.
Light himself hadn't even realized how much he had yearned for that giddy rush, the feeling that he could almost fly, in the time he had forcibly deprived himself of it at the Manor. He can feel his own heart rate beating faster in anticipation as Greed begins to approach the finale of his macabre act.]
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He laughs, and laughs and laughs, as he hasn't in months. In fact, he hasn't laughed this hard since L had fallen off his chair all those months ago. Except this time, he's free to do it without abandon. So much so that it's almost beginning to hurt trying to take in enough air between laughs for his own oxygen hungry heart to beat.
Is this what they mean by choking on your own laughter?
Reply
His skin tingles. Light feels... as his namesake: Radiant. Powerful. Alive. The panacea to his unbearable boredom has been re-discovered; the irony of a spiritual rebirth by an item called a "Death Note" is almost amusing enough to send Light back into fits of raucous delight, but he doesn't.
For now, Light is more than sated in knowing that he's no longer defenseless and powerless; he has the power that sent him to achieve his destiny as the rising God of the world back at his fingertips.
He could almost dance. Almost.
So what did it mean now? For all of his glee--It works!-- he's no idiot. Kira's enemies are still around, and death itself is not permanent in this dimension.
He casts an amused glance at the red flashes that mend Greed's torn up form. Immortality indeed. But by the nature of this place, everyone is immortal. Everyone is given a taste of the divine at the Manor.
But now, Light has more.The Death Note obviously ( ... )
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[It's fascinating, in a morbid way. Lenalee has seen those of the Noah clan who refuse to die, and can sustain lethal injuries without truly being hurt. But it is different to have a front row seat with no distractions of battle to see the flesh and sinew weave themselves back together, to see someone so completely die and then come right back to life. It goes against everything she has ever been taught, and leaves her feeling vaguely nauseated.]
... What exactly was that supposed to prove?
[The dead stay dead, or are brought back as puppets; mockeries of their former selves. But that rule does not seem to apply to this man. Why?]
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That I'm not out to battle pussies. If I simply said "Anyone wanna go fight for a bit?" humans may show up. If humans showed up, it'd be a waste of my time.
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It seems like a waste of time either way. Unless that's your idea of training.
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Don't listen so good, do you? It's staving off boredom. This place is boring me to multiple-deaths.
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