[week sixteen || day seven] || Had Enough

[l_shrugged]

Who: L Lawliet l_shrugged || Mihael "Mello" Keehl searedsuccessor
Status: Closed-ish, unless you feel it's very appropriate /dies
Style: Prose.
Where: Yomisato; Inn.
When: Week sixteen, day seven.
Rating: PG-13ish.
Warnings: Language courtesy of Mello.
Summary: L and Mello discuss new developments (i.e. lol, we done died).

Comments

[searedsuccessor]

There was something that he may have enjoyed about Yomisato before: thin organization veiling an underworld, not much different than any place back home. L.A., or Vegas, even. The streets of New York were too brightly lit and covering the haughty rich to give the proper ambiance. But Yomisato took him by surprise, that time, if only because Mello had never before seen a village, let alone one that masked so many secrets, and for a little while, it was almost thrilling. Structured chaos, and it suited him, to an extent

[l_shrugged]

The foreign stench of charred and soaked wood fills his lungs, grounding him to the present even as he reminisces on the more relevant past; scraping over the facts with a mind-numbing thoroughness. The renewed vigor puts the investigation into perspective. Now that he’s certain of Light Yagami’s guilt, there are fewer doubts, fewer obstacles demanding that he second and third guess his conclusions, and, most importantly, the thirteen day rule must be false. Given that it is a fake, any of the other rules are subject to suspicion. Rem did aid Light Yagami in L’s death; the false rules were a mere icing to the cake

[searedsuccessor]

Something so piercing in a place so unnaturally quiet. It jars his attention, though he already knows the source

[l_shrugged]

And Mello makes the ascension so smoothly that he has to wonder whether it truly was riskless to have remained waiting at the peak of the steps. Then again, he hardly has much to offer, being both bereft of precious items and male. His hands slip into his pockets almost absently, escaping the cold, feet sliding back to make room for the man given the possibility that even the final step may give. It doesn't, though the creaking and cracking hardly leaves on with a sense of sturdiness

[searedsuccessor]

"No."

Not in the literal sense, anyway. Just a general sense of unease, the rising feeling that something was going to happen at any moment. And it still stands, though Mello is intent of distracting himself from the small adrenalin spike this place has caused since stepping foot inside