soul_campaign | [Video] - Stuck in a Jam-Jar [May 19?]

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[Video] - Stuck in a Jam-Jar [May 19?]

((OOC At the top just to preempt anyone possibly not having read the cut -- This post its full of spoilers and violent things that happened in the canon. I really can't warn enough ;-;))

[This video starts out in a dark, dark room and only the light of the night time does any decent for any sort of outline sitting at the window. It's clearly a man in a white shirt, the pants are too dark to make out any definitive colour past a shade of blue. He's made a small modification to be able to sit at the window and it's not clear what it is he's seated on, but his blankets are there and his pillows. He's drug his mattress and his table to the window.]

I had a nightmare for the fourth time since being here. Are they common? Wasn't it something I heard at one time that said talking about your nightmares would make them go away? Unfortunately there'll be graphic content, you should stray away if you have stomachs not suited to violence.

It made me sick, too.
[He means this in the double standard for those who know, for those who don't can assume what they will while they don't know he is sick in other ways. His finger comes to his lip and he nibbles at the skin on the side of it. It's a wonder he hasn't chewed clear through it for all the times he's done it.]

I tried so hard to wake up from it, a nightmare so real it could be life if not for the characteristic surreal settings that dreams tend to bring us. There was a tall cinder building in England, a gated fence surrounded it and its tower. All of us were children, nameless, faceless children in the crowds, given nothing more than what would be afforded an orphanage. Maybe that was what it was, in fact, an orphanage. What a strange dream to have.

That orphanage went on forever, large halls of oak and laminate as so the children's shoes dare not make a mark in the halls. Not make a mark at all in the life of the building. A young man I could only imagine the dream's reel to set as my friend sat down next to me in a large library lined with books -- so many books

[He's reaching down to the blankets, pulling them further around him and a pillow against the window to lean his head on.]

We were studying for something that felt more ominous than one single child should ever have to go through. The gaunt features on the face of the young man -- the only one with another face -- were a disturbing sight. Something I don't think I'll forget even if the nightmare goes away. He was so sad looking, worried looking and I could only watch as he withered away in front of me day by day in a montage. The building was eating its children, devouring their youth and forcing them to go day to day into their young graves.

I watched it happen to the one with a face. I watched the realization that he'd never be enough for the place tormenting children and I watched him step onto our study table. His feet were on the books, barely able to stand for all the time he'd spent in study, in preparation for something we were supposed to become, to uphold some how.

[A sigh and he draws his knees up, tucking blankets around them as he continues to speak. As he does, his eyes turn from the window and onto the wall in front of him, never to the mirror he knows he's speaking in to.]

A man I couldn't see stood in the background, a dark, dark scene change behind the boy standing on our books. He watched as I did, only my eyes were glued to the husk of a child barely touching his teens and the rope he put around his neck. He looked down at me and told me goodbye. Tears. They fell down his face and for what I couldn't tell, because he was scared? Because he was scared of failing? Because he was afraid of both and neither seemed more overwhelming than the other. He bid me goodbye and that he was sorry - how could a boy of that age be sorry? For what viable reason would a child feel sorrow of that divide while in a minds eye falling prey to his own decision -- or maybe one made for him.

I sat in my chair, glued to it, the figure looming in the background in a white light flooding the room and masking him. He saw it all and did nothing. Nor did the other figure who's shadow fell upon the feet I endured not to watch with no avail.

[After he's done talking, he looks legitimately distant, he is distant. The memory isn't as disturbing as it is strong, not like he'd tried to portray.]

I wonder now and hope that it isn't a memory. What sort of monster would demand that children give their youth? Surely none that justice wouldn't find a way to pull free from his grasp the little ones whom might have survived it. Or left. I distinctly remember taking a small object as I was deciding to leave the house who was sucking dry the life of children around me.

An odd dream.

[He looks over, taking up the mirror and the vacant look in his face is one he's always wearing by this point.]

But if you've listened this far, perhaps you'll know how to answer my question about nightmares with my thanks that you've helped me perhaps banish them into the cruel depths of human negativity.

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[Perhaps it is a bit soon to feel relief. L's teeth clench when Beyond's tone sharpens and he draws nearer. This is fast becoming dangerous... and not thrilling, the way it is when things get dangerous with Light. It's a sick kind, drawing from a painful past and an unceratin future.]

Beyond... you saw Kishin eggs for yourself, didn't you? You're aware that they have killed humans, and would again? It is not murder when they are monsters, it is not murder when they mindlessly destroy and we are saving lives. They cannot stand trial any more than a rabid animal can.

[That devil's smile turns his stomach to rot, but he steels himself. He can stand this. He can weather it and come out of it, he is L.

He swallows.]

I think you should do as we all do in this city: kill Kishin eggs. See what you have been given as a second chance... and make it count. Don't throw it away.

[Beyond is beginning to be aware that L might really be frightened and that, to him, is lovely.]
All I saw was a creature fighting back against two people they couldn't possibly have beaten once the lovely lady gave me permission to go all out. Has anyone gotten their side of it? Why they fight and murder or do we now, even being both from Wammy's embrace decide to hear one side of the story and fight half blind? That's not like you, Sir.

[He walks past L, backward and sits back down on his bed, patting the seat next to him and then shaking out the blanket to show there's no weapons and even lifts the mattress so he's got a good view. Then pats it again.]
Thanks to Wammy's -- I don't know how to be anything but what I am. Could I have chosen, maybe I'd be better off with the Kinshin.

Edited 2013-04-23 04:19 (UTC)

[Beyond is correct, unfortunately for L. There was a time when he could hide his emotions far better, but it's as if the Kira case and the things that have happened since have fractured him in small but potentially fatal ways. They'll bring him down someday in a dissociative ruin, perhaps, but for now he can maintain his structure, if not his total former resilience.]

It's as I said.

[His voice is soft.]

It is like trying to reason with rabid animals. Either they don't understand, and their innocence is too dangerous to maintain, or they understand and persist, regardless.

[Beyond returns to the bed and pats the spot next to him, a silent invitation, perhaps. But the most insane thing Beyond has yet conceived might be the notion that L would join him on a bed. Even with apparent proof of no weapons, he doesn't want to be so near his unhinged successor. It makes his skin crawl like an allergic reaction.

He remains within paces of the door.]

Killing innocents at will did not work out for you well, before. I feel it's only kind to remind you of this before you imagine siding with creatures that would kill you without the barest hesitation.

[That L sticks to his guns only proves that he may still be worth the effort for fun, that he refuses to sit with him, makes Beyond feel elated. He's never felt excitement like this, to be able to drive fear into L's heart and into his eyes.

He lets him talk, smile turning to a childish pout when again he was being called a murderer. Laying on his side, Beyond pulled the blanket around him, huffing.]

You keep calling me a murderer, accusing me of killing people. I've never killed anyone in my life.

[It's wearisome that Beyond is denying his involvement in the murders with the same dedication he has been denying his memories. It is like watching a ballet dancer fall and split their leg open, L thinks, or all of a concert violinist's strings snapping simultaneously in the middle of a concerto. It is very painful to watch someone who resembles him so closely spouting such broken nonsense.]

I believe you're better at being what you are not than you can ever know, Beyond. At least, convincing yourself that you are something you are not.

Edited 2013-04-24 04:27 (UTC)

[He tilts his head, a curious look on his face that is a stark contrast to the Devil's Grin he was wearing earlier.]

Ohhhhh...
You're angry I decided to forget. I'd never forget you. Or do you mean my denying being a murderer? I was an opportunist. Not a murderer. They helped me realize that in the ... hospital.

[Firmly, but not harshly]

I am not angry.

[Anger implies a certain level of caring, after all, and care is like fire with Beyond. A little can warm the spirit and soothe frostbite, but too much is dangerous.]

I don't believe it was your choice to arrive here, as many things in your life were not your choice. However, it is your choice to tell untruths that you know to be such. Your tedious use of semantics to excuse your actions based on technicalities is also your choice. Opportunists take advantage of situations that can benefit them... and my perception is that you benefited very little from the choices you made before those people died, Beyond.

[Well that's no fun. He'll figure out a way to do it one day. He's seen scared, scared is memorized and filed away - but mad, he can only guess at mad. Continuing to listen, Beyond is amused by the thing that L's just told him, biting down on his lip before settling his feet at the edge of the bed to fold them in toward his chest.

He lets his cheek rest on his kneecaps, staring at L.]

Then you're wrong. I benefitted greatly, it not only proved to me the idiocy of your staff, having to lead her through, but also substantiated a few things I'd thought about death. Don't be so full of yourself, not everything is all for you.

[The people who have seen L really and truly mad are a mere handful, paltry in number and likely to hold their peace rather than give accounts of what can actually amount to an impressive amount of fury from someone who seems so still and placid on the surface.

He blinks slowly, the first time he's done so during this conversation.]

Killing something to learn from it... you substantiated something, though I wonder if you can understand it.

No, Sir. I wonder if you could. Have you ever been present to see someone's life? To see their life, not in a way that you see when the life drains from it.

[He lays out on the mattress, it's clear from the way he's turned his house upside down he's not feeling at home, he's not in his own skin here.]

Beyond? Do you even know what you're asking me?

[He leans against the wall, slipping his hands into his pockets.]

[Beyond scoffs.]
Yes.
But it seems just like the lady you sent, I have to feed you all the answers before you're well fed. I wouldn't lean on that wall, you never know what crazy traps I've set.

[None. He's just making fun of you L.]
I wonder, L, should I lead you along on a fun game? You like games right? I bet you're bored here with the little squabblings, kidnappings are nothing for you even I know that. Pitiful fights. in. the. stree~t?
[The t was given special attention, not for any particular reason, just to emphasize.

His body draws closer in on itself, cuddling in the position to which he's found himself comfortable.]
There's even another detective to help you. Much too brash, he'd shoot me before the game was up and you'd never find the answer. Maybe it'd be smart to include him in the game instead?

Edited 2013-04-28 23:17 (UTC)

[It's difficult to maintain a front of patience when L barely has a fractured trail of breadcrumbs to sustain him in this case, much less anything that could lead to being "well-fed."

Traps or not, one thing is certain, and it is that B is absolutely crazy.]

Whether I'm bored or not isn't your concern. But games don't always have a time or place. And to indulge them for the sake of games is nothing short of selfish.

Besides. You're right. There isn't just one other detective, though, there are many in this city, and it's therefore unlikely that the game would go on very long, anyway.

Good. Then indulging them would be right up your alley.

[He rolls onto his back, splaying out, fiddling with his toes in the blankets. But it's L's next and final line that has Beyond stopping-- no. Freezing where he's laid and that smile to start up again.]

Is there?
That many that I wouldn't last? My my. That sounds like a challenge from you if I ever heard one. Still testing me? I accept. Just remember who asked for this.

[B is right, of course, shamefully and completely correct. L wrote the book on selfishly pursuing games for his own reasons, and if his perspective has changed, even minimally, after seeing what a bit of altruism could do for Mello and Near's partnership, it isn't like Beyond would have any way of knowing... or any reason to rejoice, knowing that some other successors had benefited where he had been stifled and deprived.

He crosses his arms, but the gesture is far from firm. Rather, it's wilted, tired.]

There is no challenge, there is no game. There is certainly no test. I regret that you want so badly to see it that way. Are you so hungry for attention that you seek it where you can, regardless of the cost?

[Much, very much, like a curious animal -- like the Animal Beyond Birthday was, he sat on the bed, fiddling with the blankets if not for the tilted head still staring blankly at L. His expression was stoic, marble stone with unyielding eyes despite a normal person perhaps wanting to blink by then.

He draws in a large breath, letting it sigh out at the question, still in the position which bodes well for L in asking a question that may not be firm but had its consequences if he wasn't in such a good mood.]

Yes- and no, mostly no.

[A thumb moves to his lip worrying at the nail a little while his eyes stayed plastered on the way L stayed, how he placed himself around the room. Every bit of information is.]

But the cost of what? You hadn't even let me plan a single thing out.

[He's since let that thumb back down to the bedspread, pushing off of it and so he can tie the blanket around his neck like a long, overly large, warm cape.]

What's to say I want to play with you at all? If there's so many others out there to beat, why? Why did you come here?

[He's more interested in the other answer, why L's there now.]

What suddenly changed that you've so much interest in a failed experiment at being immortal?

[Before L's life of relative luxury and isolation, he had not been well off. He had lived in dirt and squalor, to the point where he occasionally was startled out of sleep by a rat scurrying over his face or chest.

He hates rats to this day, the way they move especially, and he suppresses a shudder when Beyond shifts his position in a way that is hatefully reminiscent of that liquid slinking.

Not that B's expression is any more reassuring. Or his words, his non-answers and his returning questions.]

Beyond. You're right, I should likely leave now. This hasn't been a productive dialogue.

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[Video] - Stuck in a Jam-Jar [May 19?]

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