[death note] three pages
Dec. 12th, 2006 11:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gigantomachyOh, man. Another new fandom for me. >.> This is a test-run for future DN stuff which may or may not happen, also this is me getting my feet wet. Bless.
Living with ghosts has never been easy. Spoilers up to the end of the (manga) series.
one. loose-leaf.
(killing softly and serial.)
Oh, he'll remember this forever. Abso-fucking-lutely.
Light drifts through the center like a ghost, the room dark but for the anemic glow of the monitors. It is deserted here, its patrons dead, the other members of the team surely wringing their hands at home, waiting for that telltale pressure to rise up inside their fragile chests.
(he is not the ghost)
Beside a stack of reports lies a slender tea spoon, still sticky with old saliva and traces of sugar.
He does not want this. Light does not dwell upon obstacles removed.
(God does not second-guess himself)
Yet as always, Ryuuzaki proves to be the exception to the rule even from beyond the grave, a lingering, tangible presence accompanied by the bitter feeling that maybe Light didn't win as much as he'd first thought after all.
L was his enemy, the proverbial wrench thrown carelessly into the gears of his grand machinations. Ryuuzaki-
Ryuuzaki had made Light's life interesting for a while, and maybe brought him a little bit of happiness. Perhaps Light had deceived Ryuuzaki about many things (sometimes on purpose; sometimes not), but he had not lied when it mattered.
Light is haunted by cake crumbs and six different flavors of vanilla, a handful of sugar cubes scattered beneath the desk. His hand shakes as it touches the glass. He can hear a voice rattling off percentages and scenarios, ways that he could have avoided this whole stupid mess in the first place.
It is his own.
.
two. crumple.
(singing the song her sinking lover sung.)
Some days are better than others. Days when he was still alive, certainly.
Misa sits kneeling on her apartment floor, surrounded by flowers (mostly wilted) and plush animals that grin down at her manically. She has not taken a job since her last conversation with Matsuda, and unheard voicemail floods her cell. Hey Misa-Misa, this is Yakimoto speaking. We're worried down here. Don't you remember? We have a contract.
She is dimly aware that she's sitting wrong, the beginnings of paraesthesia harassing her skinny legs. She can't remember how long she has been here or even why, only that there are things left to left to be done. And she is right, of course - she often is - it's just that the world she inhabits cares for little more than the promise of bare curves and kisses.
(And eyes, of course, but that is a different story.)
There is nothing special about this notebook. Nothing at all.
Amane
kanji like broad, like the fist-sized hole in her chest he once inhabited
Mi
kanji like ocean
Sa
kanji like sand.
She keeps writing, ink-stained fingers cramping (she doesn't stop) as she repeats the characters over, over again. The pages are turning black.
Saturated.
Misa is haunted by pressed shirts and pens twirling on perfectly rounded fingertips, the ghost of a fallen god. (Two, really, but only one that mattered, even if the words he whispered were mostly lies.)
But not for long.
.
three. tin-foil.
(you've still got to ask for proof.)
Near is more comfortable close to the earth, even separated by layers of concrete and subways and water mains. It keeps him grounded. It keeps him humble.
Behind him, Gevanni's hands dance across two keyboards, hunting either criminals or information - the others left him days ago, tired but alive. How fortunate that his team made out so well. He understands he had not necessarily been the one better prepared, but things were far simpler when your hands were allowed to stay clean. Mello had assured him that privilege.
(another debt unpaid)
Tiny finger puppets lay scattered amidst chocolate wrappers before him, vulgar effigies of the people they represent. After a moment's deliberation he selects two of them, feeling the cold weight in his palm.
One: eyes bulging, a lump of dirty white to indicate hair.
The other: golden and impish and scarred, a bit more intricate than the others.
He studies them for a moment, compiling lists of differences and similarities, passive-stone-introverted, fearless-kinetic-gone--
He sighs and closes his hand into a fist. In the darkness there, plastic cheeks press together, hard lines and soft curves surrendering in pursuit of a whole.
(but only until the pressure is gone)
Near is haunted by the raw scent of leather and the memory of cool, most hands wrapped 'round his throat, the inexplicable feeling of something missing.
Naturally, he thinks.
-fin
12.12.06
AMIDOINGITRITE?
Living with ghosts has never been easy. Spoilers up to the end of the (manga) series.
one. loose-leaf.
(killing softly and serial.)
Oh, he'll remember this forever. Abso-fucking-lutely.
Light drifts through the center like a ghost, the room dark but for the anemic glow of the monitors. It is deserted here, its patrons dead, the other members of the team surely wringing their hands at home, waiting for that telltale pressure to rise up inside their fragile chests.
(he is not the ghost)
Beside a stack of reports lies a slender tea spoon, still sticky with old saliva and traces of sugar.
He does not want this. Light does not dwell upon obstacles removed.
(God does not second-guess himself)
Yet as always, Ryuuzaki proves to be the exception to the rule even from beyond the grave, a lingering, tangible presence accompanied by the bitter feeling that maybe Light didn't win as much as he'd first thought after all.
L was his enemy, the proverbial wrench thrown carelessly into the gears of his grand machinations. Ryuuzaki-
Ryuuzaki had made Light's life interesting for a while, and maybe brought him a little bit of happiness. Perhaps Light had deceived Ryuuzaki about many things (sometimes on purpose; sometimes not), but he had not lied when it mattered.
Light is haunted by cake crumbs and six different flavors of vanilla, a handful of sugar cubes scattered beneath the desk. His hand shakes as it touches the glass. He can hear a voice rattling off percentages and scenarios, ways that he could have avoided this whole stupid mess in the first place.
It is his own.
.
two. crumple.
(singing the song her sinking lover sung.)
Some days are better than others. Days when he was still alive, certainly.
Misa sits kneeling on her apartment floor, surrounded by flowers (mostly wilted) and plush animals that grin down at her manically. She has not taken a job since her last conversation with Matsuda, and unheard voicemail floods her cell. Hey Misa-Misa, this is Yakimoto speaking. We're worried down here. Don't you remember? We have a contract.
She is dimly aware that she's sitting wrong, the beginnings of paraesthesia harassing her skinny legs. She can't remember how long she has been here or even why, only that there are things left to left to be done. And she is right, of course - she often is - it's just that the world she inhabits cares for little more than the promise of bare curves and kisses.
(And eyes, of course, but that is a different story.)
There is nothing special about this notebook. Nothing at all.
Amane
kanji like broad, like the fist-sized hole in her chest he once inhabited
Mi
kanji like ocean
Sa
kanji like sand.
She keeps writing, ink-stained fingers cramping (she doesn't stop) as she repeats the characters over, over again. The pages are turning black.
Saturated.
Misa is haunted by pressed shirts and pens twirling on perfectly rounded fingertips, the ghost of a fallen god. (Two, really, but only one that mattered, even if the words he whispered were mostly lies.)
But not for long.
.
three. tin-foil.
(you've still got to ask for proof.)
Near is more comfortable close to the earth, even separated by layers of concrete and subways and water mains. It keeps him grounded. It keeps him humble.
Behind him, Gevanni's hands dance across two keyboards, hunting either criminals or information - the others left him days ago, tired but alive. How fortunate that his team made out so well. He understands he had not necessarily been the one better prepared, but things were far simpler when your hands were allowed to stay clean. Mello had assured him that privilege.
(another debt unpaid)
Tiny finger puppets lay scattered amidst chocolate wrappers before him, vulgar effigies of the people they represent. After a moment's deliberation he selects two of them, feeling the cold weight in his palm.
One: eyes bulging, a lump of dirty white to indicate hair.
The other: golden and impish and scarred, a bit more intricate than the others.
He studies them for a moment, compiling lists of differences and similarities, passive-stone-introverted, fearless-kinetic-gone--
He sighs and closes his hand into a fist. In the darkness there, plastic cheeks press together, hard lines and soft curves surrendering in pursuit of a whole.
(but only until the pressure is gone)
Near is haunted by the raw scent of leather and the memory of cool, most hands wrapped 'round his throat, the inexplicable feeling of something missing.
Naturally, he thinks.
-fin
12.12.06
AMIDOINGITRITE?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 09:06 am (UTC)Thanks, it was nice to read it before going to sleep ;D (it's six in the morning here. Guh. Sorry if I didn't make sense.)
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 09:27 am (UTC)Near was probably my favorite bit to write; he's presented so childlike, but there's this ferocious intelligence in there, and there's a big part of me that thinks that he'll try so hard to make up for Mello's absence in his own way. He kind of makes my heart hurt like that.
Light, on the other hand ... the Light in my head is batshit crazy and will spend the rest of his life thinking L is haunting him just to mess with him. He'll probably never touch another piece of cake again. XD Seriously, though, with Light, I really think he thought of Ryuuzaki as a friend, and I can't wait to play with the Amnesia chapters. It's easy to see how L fell for
himit, even though he didn't really. It kind of depresses me to know that L was really lying when he said that Light was his first true friend. I kind of think Light might feel guilty, just not in a conventional fashion, or at least not for the reasons he should.Oh, man, sorry -- I should be putting this ramble elsewhere, uh, sorry to dump on you. ._. Thank you for the love!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 05:17 pm (UTC)For me, Light is more like a cold, sociopath villian. I don't think he ever shows any emotion for others, 'cept when he's faking it (and in the Yotsuba Arc). Also, I don't think the Death Note had all the fault in his change... The DN is just a mean, but the darkness was lurking inside him anyway. About L... Was he lying when he said that, for real? perhaps I missed it in the manga *facepalm* that changes everything XD
(As a curious fact, I didn't like Near at all until the end, when we learn he KNOWS about his own weakness, and his special way to mourn Mello. That was painful. TwT)
no subject
Date: 2006-12-13 07:55 pm (UTC)Light is absolutely sociopathic, down to a T, but he is also very cautious. I kind of think that despite his giant ego, he regards L/Ryuuzaki as a worthy opponent at least at some level, because he managed to keep him on his toes whereas (especially by the time this story is occurring right after L's death) he looks at everyone else after him with utter contempt. What he regrets, I suppose I'm trying to say, is that he's killed off the person making life interesting for him.
Besides, maybe L had mechanisms and schemes in place for the chance that he died. Which he kind of did. xD
And yeah; it's in 13, but apparently L was lying through his teeth. It kind of makes me sad, but it makes things interesting for the who-is-manipulating-who-more game. L gets written off as defeated by his feelings, but I don't think it was quite that way at all.
(Oh, you didn't? You're right, though, that was a painful thing to see. I'm interested to work on Near a bit more, because I have super special plot bunnies brewing for him. >.>)
no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 04:33 pm (UTC)This just completely captures the feeling of Death Note, and the parentheses are a really nice touch. (I especially love Light's section, too; the ending of it just... really hurt, I guess.)
And I really really have to leave now, but much love to both fics! ^^