test drive meme #11

[hadrielmods]

Welcome to Hadriel's test drive, and thank you again for your interest in the game! As always, our reserves page is here, and our applications page is here! Reserves open July 25th, and apps are open August 1st.

Two quick points here as well:

1. Any thread made in Hadriel's test drive will be accepted as the sole Action Log sample in the application.
2. All threads made in the test drive can be considered game canon, either through handwaving or through a shared mental experience while coming through the Door!

Test drives will be broken up into specific god mini-events, during which your characters can see how well they fare under the watchful eye of one of the gods. Choose wisely or just simply pick 'em all, and have fun!

F E A R

SCENARIO ONE: WORKING TITLE
[The Door brings in all that is chaotic and evil in the world. This may include you, may include the person next to you... and may include the monster behind you.

Watch out as you explore the streets of Hadriel, because you're not alone, and there's always something lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect chance to swarm around you and chow down. This time, the Door has brought in a few Working Joes, from the Alien: Isolation video game series.

Once simply androids meant for mundane jobs, working Joes have had their programming altered to isolate and eliminate threats onboard their ship- which they now believe to be Hadriel. Super strong, yet slow and plodding, an android may ask you for identification before throttling you when you don't have the right answer. They are quite sturdy and difficult to destroy without the right tools. Have fun!]


H O P E

SCENARIO TWO: BEAUTIFICATION DUTY
[The city has always looked a little drab, but now with some tools from Hope, it's up to you guys to spruce it up a bit! Your character will find themselves in a shop filled with various paints, home improvement tools, window stickers, streamers, and various other items and tools used to improve the appearance of the neighborhood.

You're encouraged to add your own little flair to the project in order to improve living standards and make Hope the happiest god in the pantheon. So, what will you do? Paint a mural? Sweep up some rubble? Install a skylight! The cave is your oyster.

This is a mini version of our Extinction v2 event this month!]


S O R R O W

SCENARIO THREE: CRY ME A RIVER
[When you wake up in the morning, something feels... off. It feels like you just watched 20 ASPCA commercials in a row and then topped it all off with the first ten minutes of Up. You're beaten down, depressed, upset by all the horrific acts and trauma in the world, and it's enough to make you want to cry.

Turn on the waterworks, because Hadriel is about to have a shortage of tissues and everyone's getting dehydrated. You might run into your neighbor crying while you're scavenging for food, or you might just find that one whole asshole in the entire movie who isn't affected.

Either way, it's time to get some hugs, some kleenex, and maybe a little bit of chocolate. Happy... crying?]

Comments

L Lawliet | Death Note

[hearthebell]

1. Fear

[Cynicism has a way of walking hand-in-hand with those who have a front-row view of the world's chaos and evil. As his world's premier supergenius computer detective, L has seen his share of wickedness, the survival of the strongest as the meek and mild succumb, and grown numb to it. Waking in a coliseum after his own death, however, is admittedly having a profound pins-and-needles effect on the man as he tamps down his shellshock and attempts to learn what he can about his new surroundings. Every logical explanation is far from reassuring, led foremost by you snapped, you're crazy, you're finished. The illogical ones aren't any more reassuring, but the more of the subterranean city L sees, the more he is forced to entertain the notion that they might be not only possible, but likely.

A shinigami told him that there was a realm inhabited by her kind. Why not other realms? Other inhabitants? It's troubling to consider, if only because it means that for 25 grueling years as a servant to obsessive case-cracking, L has somehow managed to miss it until recently. The slump-shouldered, wild-haired wisp of a man is so absorbed in the thought that he doesn't see the approach of an android, which is a jarring presence once he's glanced up and become aware of it.

His lips part to form a sentence, but the Working Joe demands identification before he can even exhale over his vocal cords. Ordinarily, Watari would have proper documentation to get L out of just about any line of questioning, but unfortunately, L hasn't had the time or resources to attempt to recoup that glaring absence since arriving. His dark, glassy eyes stretch a little wider, relying on the appearance of vulnerability that some sympathetic humans do fall for... but not Joe, apparently.]

My father has it. We've been separated, and I have to find hi-

[Even strangers on the street don't typically reach out and attempt to strangle people they haven't met yet. L's scrawny frame is easy enough to lift clear off the ground for the android, and as those synthetic hands tighten around his windpipe, L makes every attempt to rationally and calmly deal with the situation. Resisting the urge to pry at the hands around his neck, he braces them on the android's shoulders, bracing one foot against the ribs and attempting to drive a heel into his attacker's solar plexus...

...to no avail. Though he somehow escaped death at Kira's hands (how?), it seems like the world's three greatest detective's are about to meet their end at the inconveniently powerful hands of a murderous automaton.]

2. Hope

[This isn't a task that L is well-suited for in the least. He's used to living in a world of sterility, steel and chrome and glaring monitors. He rarely goes outside and doesn't seem to take much pleasure in culture or beautification of any kind; even his own appearance is the product of abject apathy, malnourished and slovenly. This kind of thing is outside of his understanding and quite possibly beneath his qualifications to even indulge.

He spends a lot of time looking at the various tools, especially those with destructive capacities like wire-cutters and saws and chisels. Whether or not Hope is heading this project as something to give them all something meaningful to do with their time, he intends to make his "contribution" count. He has wanted to escape Hadriel since arriving, and if that means defacing a mural to attempt chipping through to the other side... well, it's no great loss in the grand scheme of things, ultimately.

He can be found loitering near one such mural on the outskirts, making a poor effort to look busy and productive when there are people nearby, but when he thinks the coast is clear, he works with a hammer and chisel in an attempt to gouge through the rock.]

1.

[heartintheflames]

Rin was wandering around, exploring Hadriel, wondering himself all the things that come with a new world. How did I get here? Where is everyone else? Am I alone? Who are these people? Though he's not necessarily looking for a way home as much as he is enticed to figure out where he is and what everything does. It's new and fascinating, and, oddly, doesn't seem to have the demons of his homeworld.

As he continues to wander through passages and around pillars, he comes across a boy waking on up and an android demanding his identification. Then, as the boy tries to speak, he's suddenly attacked, and not for a very good reason.

"Hey!" Rin shouts, charging straight at them. "Let him go!" He drop kicks the Working Joe in the head with all he's got, thinking he's got this in the bag. The only ones that stood a chance against a kick like that were demons where he's from. Not that these necessarily aren't powerful, so he knows better than to completely drop his guard as he reaches for L.

"Come on!"

[hearthebell]

Oxygen deprivation works quickly; though L's spindly fingers work desperately to pry the Working Joe's grip free, it's hopelessly ineffective, and no amount of willpower can make up for the swift depletion of a body's strength. He has a minute, probably less, of consciousness left, and it's looking grim.

...Until a dark-haired young firebrand appears, shouting and charging L's assailant, delivering a kick to the android's head. While it doesn't down the Working Joe immediately, it loses some of its balance as a result, and L's able to push himself free from the suddenly-loosened iron grip. He's disoriented, resisting any sort of grab to accompany that reach, but able to get a good enough look at his rescuer as he finds his feet.

"Come where?" he snaps back, tone demanding and flustered, but he still follows any movement that puts distance between them and the Working Joe. What other choice does he have?

[heartintheflames]

Man, that thing took his kick much better than he thought it would. It didn't have to like... drop dead, or anything, but it could have at least completely fallen to the ground. Damn... But, the boy came loose from the grip, so no reason to draw his sword immediately. But, it looks like the new guy isn't too keen on being grabbed by the arm.

Pff, his loss. His way was just faster. Rin will keep an eye on him as they run, though. No sense in letting the person he just saved get caught again. This guy looks way too frail to keep himself up.

"What do you mean where? Away from here for starters!" Obviously. What kind of question is that? It's not like Rin thought further ahead than that, so...

Rin grips his sword tightly as they run past pillars and walls. Just in case he needs it. Making sure L is in front of him, he glances over his shoulder to see how far behind them the Working Joe is.

[hearthebell]

L wasn't a healthy or stress-free individual when he died... and as far as he's aware, that is what happened before he arrived here. After all, heart attacks were Kira's signature cause of death, and there weren't any known victims who had survived them. Though L is alive now, it simply doesn't fit with the trend, leaving him both conflicted and confused about his own state at the moment.

Sadly, a murderous automaton is hardly the most pressing thing on his mind. Nor is the boy with the sword, which really should gain more notice simply by merit of being so absurd. L makes an effort to pay more attention instead of dwelling fretfully on the chaos he left behind. For better or worse, this is reality, now, or what passes for it.

He's out of breath faster than anyone truly in-shape would be, but he manages to keep up well enough.

"Don't patronize me. Where are we going? Away is a start, but will it be better?" he demands as they run.

[heartintheflames]

God damnit, another nerd with big words. Why does everybody have to be so smart?

"Uhhh...." He looks dumbfounded as he thinks. "There's a village, so yea, it should be better." Sorry, L, he's just about as new as you are. Try not to be so bossy. "It can't be any worse than that thing that attacked you. Did you do something to it to piss it off?"

Because now is an opportune to make conversation. They seem to be pretty far ahead of that android monstrosity. He keeps note of L's exhaustion.

"The worst I've run into at the village is a brat with a paint can. But he's not so tough. Are you going to be okay, there?"

[hearthebell]

L is used to having to repeat things for people, even though he abhors it. He still gives the young man a slow glance, coming to a stop so he can speak. Running and talking is a bit of a tall demand for the detective, whose physicality is at its best in short spurts rather than prolonged efforts like distance running.

"I didn't have identification," he says breathlessly. "If that 'pissed it off,' then yes, I suppose that must be the case."

He doesn't sound pleased in the least.

"I'm fine..."

As much as he can be, given the ridiculousness of all this and his displeasure with having to actually pound pavement with his tender, bare feet.

[heartintheflames]

Rin gives a thought to his identification, come to think of it. He hadn't checked his pockets for his ex-wire ID.

"Nah, maybe it's on the fritz." Not that he'd go back to check; Rin brushes the idea off. That thing was a machine, right? "Robots are supposed to be super cool and serve people, right? Like in those manga."

He gives a smile, trying to lighten the guy's mood. It makes sense why he would be upset. This guy looks like a gust of wind could knock him down for the count, and he got attacked by that stronger-than-it-seemed robot.

"So you woke up here, too? Are any of your friends around? I can't find mine."

Nevermind that L just woke up and didn't have time to check for anyone. But Rin's clueless anyway.

[hearthebell]

There's a slight shake of his head as L lets it sink in that this guy is content to joke about their very uncertain situation. He's nowhere near as confident, and he attempts to keep his expression from betraying the fact that under his glassy, doll-like visage, he is panicking.

"Life isn't a manga," he says stiffly, his breath starting to come back to him. He nods distractedly at the second question, but gnaws at his thumbnail before answering about his "friends."

"I've met no one I know," he replies, seeming to take special care to specify that it would be very unlikely that he would run into friends. He doesn't have any, after all. After a pause, he asks a question of his own.

"If you're new, as well... you don't know anything more than I do about this place," he guesses. He does not sound encouraged.

2, L this is not how you make friends

[outermirrors]

[ The mural still isn't finished but it's close. Ai has been working on it practically non-stop since Hope made the announcement and provided the materials needed. The whole thing has been many long hours of labor and attention to detail and consulting numerous cell phone photos on her and Souji's cell phones to make sure it was life accurate and not memory accurate. And actually life accurate was way more difficult than she initially thought it would be even if she was painting from a photo. Stringing together mismatched sections of the bank to make one cohesive image at one time of day when so few of the pictures were taken at the same time of day never mind the same time of year. She had Souji's help, but today she wanted to work alone, wanted to mix colors and work on the lights and darks of the mural by herself.

Ai wanted it to be perfect for when she finally showed it to Souji.

Of course doing that means it needs to actually be finished and that's hard to do when there's a creepy man chiseling away at a section. Even harder to do when he was clearly keeping an eye out to make sure no one that would care was coming to stop him. Well that just sucked for rail thin zombie, she saw him and she was definitely less than pleased as her steps picked up her feet slapping loudly against the pavement in the quiet around the too of them. She didn't care so much about being sneaky to catch him in the act she already had. There was whole in her work. A section completely devoid of the image she'd worked so hard on. It looked like a photo that was old and torn from age rather than the malicious work of some jerk who couldn't even be bothered to brush his hair when he got up in the morning. And she bets he smells too.]

Hey you what do you think you're doing to my mural.

[ Most people just run when confronted about their wrong doing, she's hoping that this jerkface falls into that category himself. Her cheeks red and her eyes narrowed as she shouts at him. ]

What is making friends tho

[hearthebell]

[Working his way through the wall is proving taxing on his sinewy but reed-thin arms; L has a powerful mind, but his 110-pound body only packs so much strength, and the simple truth of the matter is that he is not accustomed to manual labor. Already, hands that can type around 200 words per minute are blistered and bleeding, and the amount of progress he's made is frankly discouraging. There's perhaps enough room for a thin fist to fit in the space he's managed to carve out, but nothing more.

Still, he thinks that he's being adequately vigilant, until a harsh voice slices through his thoughts. He glances up sharply, dark, wide eyes meeting another pair that are none too pleased with what she's witnessed. Though his fingers are raw and blistered, his grip tightens on the chisel.]

We were told to improve the city however we saw fit, weren't we? I guess it's inevitable that some ideological conflict would result from such vague instruction.

[His eyes are deceptively wide and innocent, practically to the point of being idiotic it's so exaggerated.]

That thing he did with a psychotic murder

[outermirrors]

Ideological conflict?

[ She says the words slowly, her voice low and shoulders hunched up to her ears. Is he INSANE? He could have picked literally any other wall in hte city, but he picked the one wall she gave a damn about. Her hand is all over it, her hands still coated in flecks of green and blue paint. White and purples smeared across the crappy t-shirt and pants she'd long since liberated from one of the shops and decided were perfect for this sort of work.]

Are you purposely a moron or just socially inept?

[ If Ai could breathe fire right now she would, but she can't and she has to settle for making fists and resting them on her hips. She's so pissed at you weird zombie man. ]

It's obvious that the paint was new. Or do you just get off on ruining other people's hard work?

Work obligations

[hearthebell]

[He nods, as though to clarify a perfect normal and natural point. He might come across as insane, but there's nothing really malicious or guilty about the way he's acting. In his mind, after all, the ends usually justify the means if he's decided they're worthwhile, and a chance as precious as potential escape is worth taking a risk for.]

If you think I'm either of those things, odds are I can't give you an answer you'd find credible or satisfying. That being said... the new paint meant that it had had a chance to soak into the rock and make it softer. Anyone meaning to get through to the other side would be foolish not to choose a spot like it.

[His intention is to get through. And when L's single-mindedly pursuing something, his focus is nearly impossible to shake.]

Forever the worst reason

[outermirrors]

[ So far the only part of that she agrees with is that she doesn't find any bit of his answer satisfying. Soft concrete is not a good enough reason to go chiseling at her artwork. That's a bullshit reason. That's the sort of reason assholes give to justify their actions because they have exactly zero better reasons.]

It's a cave wall, the only thing on the other side is a tunnel or a cavern, and it's probably infested with some flesh eating monsters. Most people don't pay attention that closely, but that still doesn't make it right. Trashing other people's hard work is just selfish and rude.

[ And pretty much the exact thing she would expect of other parties currently living in cave hell. Which combined with her anger at her mural being defaced like it was Ai ends up giving him a hard shove away from the wall.]

Find a different wall beat up with your chisel.

You just don't understand being dedicated to your job

[hearthebell]

[As far as L had been able to gauge, the wall was the closest to the apparent outskirts of the city that he could find. Hearing the new information does cause him to lower the hand holding the chisel to his side, but he doesn't noticeably react to being called selfish and rude.

It's the truth, after all. There's no credible argument at this point in time.

The hard shove probably seems harder than she intended it to; though it's true that L is stronger than he looks, that's ultimately not saying much. He's insubstantial and wiry, and the shove puts him off-balance and forces him to dance back a couple of steps just to stay on his bare, scuffed-up feet.]

...Tell me more about the "flesh eating monsters" I would have found if I'd continued.

She understands completely, it's how she went from chubby to althetically adorable

[outermirrors]

[ That's all well and true but did he just not listen to people. Or did he just think the monsters that arrived with him disappeared like mirages after a period of time? They had after all been very real when he got there.

Ai had been expecting a bit more substance behind the man. He looked pathetic sure, but then so did Souji at times. Neither one looked particularly like they were strong. And this vitamin D deficient creature before her definitely looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over if it wanted too. She was just a little too used to looks being a poor indicator of actual physical stature than it was here. And she herself has to skip a few steps to keep the excess momentum from sending tipping over at his feet (which by the way please put some socks on and sneakers no one wants to see your toes weirdo). ]

Excuse you?

[ She blinks up at him confused her anger momentarily dissipated in confusion by the subject change. ]

You mean aside from they'll likely kill and eat you?

L's never been either of those things, situations are clearly completely different

[hearthebell]

[L absolutely listens when he thinks it's important, and this is a case that certainly qualifies. Though he thought the wall didn't go deep, that there was hollow space behind it instead of solid concrete or stone for miles, knowing what's behind it and why no one has ever ventured through seems well-worth knowing.

As for socks and sneakers, well... he wishes he could. He died barefoot, after all, and he wasn't brought to Hadriel with either.]

I said, "tell me more about the 'flesh eating monsters' I would have found if I'd continued. Specifically, how many there are, the general size and speed, and the reason they're an insurmountable obstacle for others who might have tried this before. It sounds like you can save me a lot of trouble.

hope is a thing with feathers ...

[torrefied]

[Mello is one of a rare handful of people who ever met L as himself and would be able to recognize him on sight, and it would be impossible for someone with such a finely trained attention to details as he to overlook the man at work on the wall as he passes by on his way to another day of toiling at weeding the orchard. He stops in his tracks and stares for a long moment, heart heavy and high in his throat, mind racing to make sense of what he sees - there is absolutely no mistaking the man's identity. He's L, and L has been dead for years. But Mello knows too that death is a matter of perspective; he too has been dead for more than a year, according to Near. It's not so hard to believe that the Door reached back in time to snatch L from death's cold, clammy grip.

He can logic his way out of the logistical conundrum, but logic is powerless to stop the wave of conflicting emotions that rises up inside of him, each one carving out a moment on his face as he silently watches, taking in every small move L makes, comparing what he sees now to the archive of his memory. Finally, though, Mello shakes himself free of this temporary paralysis and takes a hesitating step forward, idle hands shoved into the pockets of his hooded jacket. Will L recognize him as he is now, five years older, worn and scarred by the life he chose outside of the House and the battles he's fought?]

You're not supposed to be here.

[It's a stupid thing to say; none of them are supposed to be here. It's the same thing he said to Near when they first met face to face in the shops, only then, Mello's voice didn't tremble the way it does now. He hates the way it sounds, but he can't take it back now that the sounds have been given space in the air between them. So he inhales a deep breath to calm his nerves and pushes the hood of his jacket back from his head and waits.]

[hearthebell]

[L doesn't look significantly different from what he did when he met Mello in person; not being the type to go through personal style evolutions helps, as well as the fact that signs of aging are subtle in a person's early-to-mid-twenties. Mello is a different story, having grown from a child to a young adult in the span of five years, none of which L was alive to witness. At first, the obvious answer is that Mello has an older brother, but L knows for a fact that's not the case, making this entire sanity-testing experience even more surreal.

He's all dark saucer-eyes as he wordlessly shakes his head in response to Mello's observation, the chisel and hammer falling from his blistered and bleeding hands and landing with two clangs in quick succession on the ground at his dirty, scratched-up bare feet. It's true, he's not supposed to be here, and he's not supposed to be seeing burn-damaged ghosts of Christmas Future, either.

He's not thinking about whether or not what Mello said is stupid, redundant or obvious. All he can really dwell on at present is the distressing truth of it, and how much he actually needed someone to acknowledge it. The last thing he remembers is fading from consciousness after a heart attack, and everything in between that and waking up here is a very pronounced blank. Was he the first to be successfully revived after his name was written in a notebook, and if so, did it have a multi-year memory loss effect on him? Is the city they are currently inhabiting a disastrous result of Kira's reign of terror?

L's posture straightens a little. Addressing a successor isn't quite like addressing someone working under him and assisting him with his punishing job. Fear and pain shouldn't be shown to those who look up to him as much as they've been taught to. In fact, he needs to start thinking of a way to explain this that much faster, because if Mello's here, others might be as well, and they could be looking to him for answers.]

You... have to tell me what happened. It's been four... five, years?

[The guess is uncertain, but accurate, as he stares at Mello's face in an attempt to measure the exact amount of apparent elapsed time.]

[torrefied]

[Mello's mouth twists into a frown at the question. Does L know that he's dead, and has been for that long? Mello doesn't doubt that what Roger told him and Near both was anything but truth; L never would have allowed Light Yagami to carry on pretending to be L for as long as he did if he were alive. Mello knows from firsthand experience that the gods running this city are capable of resurrecting those who have been killed, but as far as he is aware, if L has already experienced his own death before being brought here, he would be the first.

It's an uncertainty, but it's not what's of primary importance - what is important is answering L's question. Mello nods, mouth pressed into a thin line, and steps closer to the other man so they can speak with less chance of being overheard.]

Five years.

[Five years, two months, twenty days, plus however long he's been kept here - about three months, if time can be counted in a similar enough fashion to what he's used to. But who's counting, really.]

This place - it isn't anywhere near where we're from, it's a city called Hadriel. There are beings who claim to be gods, and they are the reason we're all here. I don't have exact figures, but there's a group of us - more than fifty, but less than a hundred - all from different realities.

[Which is the nutshell version of where they are and how they got here. Mello has a hundred questions of his own, but he swallows them down. They can wait.]

I've been here long enough that I can probably answer whatever questions you have.

[But he'll let L direct the conversation.]

[hearthebell]

[It's as difficult as it typically is to draw a bead on L's mood and line of thought, but he is noticeably less composed than usual, seeming on-edge and agitated. And really, anything else would be unnatural and strange, given the bizarre circumstances at hand. His toes tense curl against the ground, and his thumb wanders toward his mouth, where his teeth chew and worry at the skin of his already red and stressed knuckle.

Though he hasn't aged noticeably since Mello saw him last, up close it's possible to see the extent of the toll his final case took on him. He looks paler, thinner, the rings around his eyes darker and deeper. This is not a man who was stress-free and in good health at the end of his life.

The "nutshell version" isn't enough. It raises more questions than it answers, and though L's hands and voice remain steady, his knuckle has started to bleed where his teeth pull and prick at it continuously.]

The last thing I remember is a heart attack. You're saying that I survived it? And forgot everything that happened in the last five years...?

[He crouches, either because it's a default position for him to think about things deeply or because standing without his vision spotting is growing more difficult by the second.]

By "gods," do you mean "shinigami?" What happened to the Kira case while I was...

[In a coma? Suffering memory loss each day? Is this not the first time we've had this conversation? The pieces don't fit.]

I need to establish contact with Roger. I know that by now the access codes and passwords have likely changed, but it's unacceptable that five years have passed that I have no recollection of. It's unacceptable that I haven't been a part of this.

[The chisel and hammer seem so pointless, now. He's found one of his important connections, and though the years that have passed are jarring, to say the least, there's probably an easier way to get out of this city. Even if it couldn't be found before he arrived, now that he's here, there's hope. There has to be.]

You can get me those things, can't you, Mello?

[torrefied]

[Mello has failed many times over in his arguably short life, but he has perhaps never felt so much like a failure than he does now, with L looking to him for things he cannot provide and answers that he doesn't want to give. How do you tell someone you hold in such high regard that they're dead? L's response sheds light at least on that much - he remembers the heart attack that killed him, but believes he somehow survived it.

The question as to the nature of the gods is the easier one to answer, so that is where Mello starts.]

They're not shinigami. There are five of them, named Hope, Fear, Rage, Delight, and Sorrow. Anyone can see and speak with them - I've talked with all of them except Rage and Sorrow, personally. They all feed off emotion, each according to their name. I don't know if I believe they're actually gods, but they are powerful - capable of influencing what we feel, and our actions, to a certain extent. At least one of them - Hope - has enough power to resurrect those who've died.

[And that's something else Mello knows from personal experience, though he keeps that under wraps for the moment in favor of bridging into the more difficult parts of what L has asked him. He steps in close to the chiseled wall and sits on the ground near L with his back to it, one knee bent, and fights the desire to pull the hood of his jacket back over his head so he can hide underneath it.]

You didn't survive.

[It's easy to understand L's confusion - people survive heart attacks all the time. But no one recovers once the Death Note has their name.]

Kira is ... not quite finished for me, but the case is closed for Near. He's here too. He won.

[It feels like an almost unnecessary addendum, mentioning that Near was able to defeat Kira. Of course he would. Surely even L would know that, just as he would know that Mello didn't win. He didn't choose him as his heir, after all. Mello bows his head, allowing his hair to fall forward and shadow his scarred face.]

I'll do everything I can for you, of course, but the only way you'll be able to get in touch with Roger is if he's brought here too. There's no way of connecting to any of the worlds outside - we've tried.

[How disappointed L must be with him, he thinks. Mello has never cared much what people think of him, with only a few notable exceptions. L is one of them.]

... Sorry.

[hearthebell]

[L rocks back on his heels, almost rhythmically, hugging his shins as Mello speaks. He's completely silent, tucking his chin against his knees and staring at nothing through his dark lashes, trying to put images to concepts that sound like they might have been imagined and brought to life and form just to mock him. When Mello steps closer and sits beside him, leaning against the stone at both their backs, L twists his torso and presses a palm roughly against the other's shoulder, forcibly turning him to better see his eyes.

Anger and distrust are alive in L's, but they fade quickly, burning out and leaving the black glass cold. He withdraws his hand and turns away, shoulders curling forward.]

You're not lying.

[The words sound hollow, some uneasy neutral ground between relief and disgust. Even if what Mello is telling him is impossible, every indication says that he believes he's telling the truth and isn't trying to pull the wool over his mentor's eyes.

He nods in response to Mello's soft apology, taking a deep breath to compose his emotions and his thoughts. He's still L, even if he's been, as Mello put it, "resurrected." The duty of a legacy still weighs on his thin shoulders, and if Near is here, too, that means he's under twice the obligation to present a strong front and figure this out. Just because no way has been found, after all, doesn't mean there's no way. That's practically his job description, finding that way that no one else has. Though death at the hands of Kira has left him feeling beaten, washed-out and used-up and anemic and weak, perhaps it's not so inappropriate if Hope has brought him here. ]

...I understand. In that case, I'll need to know where I can educate myself on what's happened here, the beings that comprise the ruling class and hold power, political and otherwise, and of course I'll need to find and make contact with Near as well.

[He does not assume that the two live together. Truly, there's very little he can assume about the volatile pair.

He doesn't address the obvious state of disrepair his body is in, needing food, rest and at least a little bit of medical attention for the blisters and bite-marks riddling his hands and bare feet. When he thinks of it, it's likely that he'll ask for ice cream.]

[torrefied]

[Mello doesn't resist being repositioned; when L commands your attention, you give it to him, without question. And he doesn't mind being scrutinized, because that's the sort of thing to be expected from L - it's what he does, examine things from all possible angles until he can see the truth of it. Mello does his best not to shrink under the other man's gaze, but he can't help feeling as if the end result of this brief analysis is still that he is found lacking. Maybe it's in the dark circles that ring his own eyes, the scar over the left half of his face that proclaims one of his biggest failures. Maybe L just knows, can see straight through into the gaping void that lives inside of him.]

I wouldn't lie to you about that.

[L is finished looking him over, so Mello drops his attention to his own hands resting in his lap. Idly, he picks at the cuff of the glove on his right hand. He probably wouldn't lie to L about anything, but he knows better than to speak in such absolutes.]

Anyway, it's too stupid a story to be a lie. Everyone knows that the best lies sound reasonable and contain an element of truth. A group of gods kidnapping people and using them as batteries is the stuff of fantasy.

[Or horror, as the case may be.]

There was talk of putting together a guide for newcomers, but I don't think it's surfaced yet. I was helping compile an encyclopedia of sorts about the local monster population, but - other things became a priority.

[Things like Sharon wreaking her own personal hell on everyone. Things like shooting her down when she refused to stop, then spending the next month on the move so the City Guard would have a harder time catching up to him. Things like being murdered himself, then forced into a community service sentence. It's not a lie to omit details.]

There's a library here, though the majority of the books are written in languages that are nothing like any I've studied. There's no real historical record of what transpired here before the Door began to bring people in from other realities. I asked Delight about it, once, but it didn't seem to be important to them. Some of the so-called gods have been resurrected by Hope as well - Rage, Delight, and Sorrow, though I've only been witness to the last one.

[And it had been exceedingly uncomfortable, entailing a period of intense regret, coming close on the heels of killing Sharon, an act that had no effect on the nightmare reality she brought to the city and only served to complicate things for him - and by extension, Near.]

As far as the people here, there's no real ruling body, just a self-styled City Guard that has delusions of importance. They're not especially effective, though they claim to be concerned with keeping the peace.

[It took them an entire month to catch up with Mello, and he was dead at the time. That's hardly a ringing endorsement of their capabilities. His expression twists into an ugly frown as he recalls this, though it quickly dissipates as he continues making his explanation.]

I can tell you where Near is staying, but you'll want to call him first. He's put certain security measures into place, and he's the only one who can take them down. Hope gives everyone a phone upon arrival, and they're all networked with each other. People tend to talk about themselves quite freely, in fact, but you can also call individuals directly. I don't trust that it's entirely secure, but it can be useful, to a certain extent.

[hearthebell]

[L's something of a paradox, in that he is wildly adaptable in his line of work, but rather resists change on a personal level. His mannerisms aren't quite impulsive, but they're childish, with no respect for personal space or comfort, and that's never not been true. Fortunately, Mello is probably better equipped to deal with him than most strangers he'll be required to interact with here in Hadriel. Unfortunately, he's in an extremely minuscule minority, meaning that in spite of any disappointment or soul-piercing, revealing analysis, L needs Mello if he has any hope of surviving meaningfully in an environment unlike anything he's ever thrived in.

The level stare he answers with says, plainly, you couldn't lie to me, as if the prospect that Mello might even attempt it under any circumstances has nothing but disdain from him.]

Newcomers? You make it sound like people arrive with fair regularity. If so... at least a pamphlet would likely be beneficial toward curbing some of the initial confusion.

[Not that L himself is going to volunteer to write it, but that's beside the point. He's only concerned with educating himself, after all, and he's better-equipped to absorb large amounts of information than the average masses that might follow him. A library will probably suffice, and even now, he feels like he'll be able to translate at least some of the books. He's never been in a situation before where he hasn't.]

Who is the City Guard, and how were they elected to their position? Are they successful when it comes to that objective, "keeping the peace?"

[L has more questions than are practical, out here in the street where he probably looks homeless and hungry rather than an like an intellectual powerhouse preparing to shake things up.

He nods, unsurprised that Near's measures are stringent. He would have expected nothing less from either of his successors.]

I have that phone, as well as the one I used primarily during the investigation, but I haven't established an identity or backstory yet. I wanted to refrain until I had a better picture of what I was dealing with.

[Actually, he had hoped he wouldn't have to. He's trying to carve through a cave wall, after all. Escape is pretty clearly on his mind.]

On that subject, I should know what names both of you are using here.