InsaneJournal

Tiresias and the Middleverse
Who: L [open]
Where: A cemetery in the "Middleverse" (between life and death), awaiting Metatron
When: L's first day (May 12)
Rating: PG-ish
Warning: No warning.
Summary: L died when he was 25 at the feet of Yagami Light. Now that his rival has been given a new body and put back on earth, his own restless spirit will finally be judged. (This is basically an introductory post preceding L's arrival in CU, where he will be rooming with Frank in Asgard room 205.) This scene consists of him waking up in a sort of limbo and interacting with a NPC onetime-appearing old grave digger calling himself Tiresias... without knowing who that is, much to L's annoyance.



Then I wasn't wrong... but, I...!

L bolted upright, his eyes snapping open and his senses reeling from the sudden onslaught of stimuli. The overwhelming noonday sun, the scent of freshly mown grass and damp earth, the cacophonous din of birdsong clashing with the roll and thunder of a busy street nearby. His skin itched... rubbing distractedly at the heavy black material sheathing his thin arms, he realized that he was wearing a suit. Since WHEN did he wear a suit? He reached towards his neck to loosen a tie that felt more like a noose. WHAT was going on? The last thing he remembered... ah.

It was painful, he recalled that much, at least. He brought one hand to his aching head, attempting to re-live the event that had ended his life. "Everyone, the shinigami...!" Those had been his last words, hadn't they? Trying to point out what was REALLY going on, while Light... "LIGHT," L said, gritting his teeth. He rose to his feet, his legs trembling slightly, leaning on a tombstone for support. He took a deep breath, and abandoned his typically monotonous, quiet voice. "LIGHT YAGAMI WAS KIRA! I KNEW IT ALL ALONG!!!" he shouted, beating his fists against the tombstone. Recovering, he noticed that the name engraved on it was one of his own false ones. His real name couldn't have been used, of course... so many would have wanted to defile the grave of the world-renowned detective. He had been lying atop his own final resting place.

"What are you yelling about?" a disgruntled old man asked, startling L after the silence of his approach. "You're dressed awful nice, for a nap in the boneyard... was there a wedding last night? Had too much to drink, eh?"

L decided that he wasn't a ghost. If an old gravedigger was scolding him for disturbing the peace, he must have been tangible. "Yes. Yes, I suppose so..." he said absentmindedly. "Do you know a Light Yagami, by any chance? I was... his... best man."

The gravedigger cackled. "How would I know him? My entire life has been spent dealing with the dead. Between digging and my part-time job at the morgue, I don't get out much. The people I meet are all cold and kind of stiff, you know?" he chuckled at his own attempted pun, while L fought the compulsion to twitch. "But I remember all of them... young fellow there," he said, pointing at L's grave, "Very strange situation. They said that he died of a heart attack, but his arteries were cleaner than whistles. The autopsy, completely inconclusive... wasn't even worth performing. I hate cutting into a young person and finding NOTHING... what's wrong? You look pale."

"Do I?" L asked, swallowing. He'd never been squeamish about death and dying... he was a detective, after all, with an extensive knowledge of forensics... but he wondered what he'd find if he could open the pine box six feet below him. A skeleton? A dried and shriveled twin? Or... or nothing at all? If he was dead and buried, what was he doing aboveground?

"Come to think of it," the old man said, craning his neck and staring at L, "you remind me of that... what... 'Ryuzaki?'. Must be your eyes... or your hair... something like that. They said that he was a genius. Are you a genius, kiddo?"

"Probably not," L answered, shrugging. He was already bored of this conversation, and his focused mind was already bent to a single purpose. Light Yagami. Sentence LIGHT YAGAMI to death for the Kira killings. "I need a phone," he said quietly. "Is there a house nearby?"

The old man shrugged cluelessly. "How the heck would I know? Maybe. Maybe not. You're kind of in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh? Thanks... um... where is 'the middle of nowhere,' in your book?"

"That would be the Middleverse. Some souls find their way here as they await judgement... the conflicted ones, usually, torn between heaven and hell. Good thing that you were just at a wedding last night, eh?"

L swallowed. Then realized that he didn't know the man's name. "..."

"Just call me Tiresias. " The old man said, with a toothy grin.

"Were you a woman for seven years? Are you blind? Are you a seer?" L asked, annoyed that the gravedigger did not seem to bear any resemblance to his mythological namesake.

"What?" Tiresias asked blankly. "I just thought it sounded cool. And there's no such thing as a 'blind seer,' kiddo. It's a... whaddyacallit..."

"Paradox," L sighed, turning to leave. Where he was headed, he was as uncertain as his eternal destination.