InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Buy the damn roses, Brian."

meticulous_soul (meticulous_soul) wrote in mirage_rpg,
@ 2009-02-08 19:40:00

Current music:	Casey Chambers- "Rattlin' Bones"
Entry tags:	complete, day 31, l lawliet, laura moon

I Left My Home, I Left My Love, I Left My Faith Back There.
[Who]: L and Laura
[When]: Day 31, Afternoon
[What]: L isn't bored, but wants to hang out with Laura anyway. She's that cool~
[Rating]: PG for now, for likely deep thoughts.
[Status]: Technically open, though they'll likely be forced!polite to anyone else who shows up, lol

It puzzled L, that Laura might possibly believe that he wouldn't want to spend time with her unless he had absolutely nothing else to do. She certainly wasn't easy on herself, when it came to the appeal she held for others. He could understand, when he thought about it as others might... but it was a forced way of thinking, for the secretive detective. He was the type of man who named spiders but left others hanging without even an approved fake moniker for himself. Except for Laura, of course. Laura was different. She knew to call him by his professional codename. It was closer than he allowed most people to get. And, yes, he considered Laura a "person."

The commons area was a well-furnishes, quiet room with a fireplace, though with agreeable weather like they had been having, it was not in use. Perching on an armchair, L organized his thoughts (as was his custom before a planned conversation), craning his neck and watching for Laura.

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meticulous_soul
2009-02-16 05:43 pm UTC (link)

A vaguely worried expression passed over L's face when she joked about not using oven mitts. "Laura, even if you cannot feel pain, your skin can still burn and I suppose that it will not repair itself," he said, knitting his brows together. "I think that you should wear mitts, even if it doesn't worry you." If Laura had known L as he had been even several days ago, she would have known a somber, unpredictable, and childish person who didn't appear to care for anyone. Watari was the exception, partially because of the role he filled in L's life. He was the hand that fed him, and the shield against the world; of course L would care if something happened to a person like that, because it would directly affect him. But even L's infant grasp of emotion, attachment, dedication... even his mind, such as it was, occupied with matters of life and death, could understand that Watari was different, because Watari cared about the person inside the letter. L felt a similar vibe from Laura. L meant more than a computer monitor and an electric voice, it meant a person. The fact that he was expressing anxiety over being burned suggested that he did, equate "person" with "Laura," reciprocating the phenomenon curiously. "I love cake. And brownies... I really love everything in that food group," he admitted. "Layer cake is wonderful. And a request, not an order." he thought about necromantic lore for a moment, about having legions of the dead available to cook for their master. The thought was somewhat disturbing; he put it out of his mind and felt glad that he had chosen to answer Laura the way he had.

The Golem served L's lunch and refilled Laura's water glass, shambling off docilely after a slight, nod-like bob. "Laura... some people know each other, here..." L said thoughtfully. "Do you think it is possible that others from your world might be drawn here?" he swallowed, "Because... I hope that others from my world are not drawn here... it is one reason I have to keep my name a secret."

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spitandviolets
2009-02-17 12:51 am UTC (link)

If it were possible for that cold, pale, porcelain face to look surprised and unsettled, it would have. The things he said sometimes were wholly and completely astonishing. He made her sad in ways, but for some reason she could never see him as a depressing person. He was too interesting, and too understanding and kind to her, to be depressing. She was the first and only real friend she had since dying. He made her wonder if friendship wasn't as fragile and fake as she assumed that it was.

"You were certain that there was nothing beyond death? How? How could you possibly think that? What comfort is there in thinking something like that? In knowing for 'certain' that there is nothing beyond death, human beings find madness. They go insane for fear of the void. I read in a book once that people need to believe in something or else they will go mad. After all, if you knew for certain that there was nothing, then everything would be meaningless. Your own life, the life of those you know, and everything that came before or would come after would be absolutely meaningless. If there was nothing, nothing at all, then people would never get any answers. They would never find the solutions to life's eternal problems. They would receive no solace, even in the moment of their demise. What would be the point in living? What would be the point of existence? No, that doesn't work. It doesn't make sense. Creation is too big, too complex for there to be absolutely nothing. You of all people, with your strong belief in logic, should know that. If you subscribed to the theory of the void, the idea that the universe and all of existence has no creation or guidance, would be undermining the very foundation of your reasoning. A universe, an existence, a world, a life with no meaning exists in a state of chaos, the object of logic and order. I do not see you subscribing to chaos theory. I am so relieved, so glad for you that I know for certain that you are wrong. For if there was nothing else, nothing after, I would not exist. If the existence of a human soul was a lie, of something that's eternal about every single person, I would not so faintly remember finding logic and reason, and I would not so desperately desire to find a reason for my continued existence."

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spitandviolets
2009-02-17 12:52 am UTC (link)

The thought occurred to her that, one day, L would die. It might not be any time soon, but it would eventually happen. As he had said, the awareness of death was maturity; at this point, Laura Moon was a long-overripe fruit as far as that went. It was inevitable. She, unchanging except for decay, renewed by the Norn water, eternally dead but eternally aware, would watch him age. She saw him now, in the beauty of his youth, but she would also see him grow older and older. Perhaps he would find love, would find a wife, would start a family. Why were such things impossible on a planet such as this? People, it seemed, were people no matter where they existed. She would watch his children grow, and she would watch him begin to decline. Eventually he would lose all of the things that he had found, for that was the path of life, and he would continue to degrade. He would, one day, wither before her eyes; he would be a shadow of this young man that she knew, this young man who was both substantially younger than herself and only a few years her junior at the same time. Would she notice? Would she see the gradual change, or would time, which no longer existed for her, simply hit her with the knowledge of that which he had become one moment far, yet not wholly distant, in the future? And once he had withered, had reverted to the ways of an infant, he would die. A lover of books, Laura was reminded of the elves who fell in love with humans in fantasy literature. Was that sense of sorrow, of being forced into the role of the helpless spectator, what they experienced on account of their immorality? L would die the long, dark, inescapable death that she, Laura Moon, would never know. She could never know it. It was as simple as removing the coin from around her neck, yes, but instinct still existed. There was still self-preservation inside of her. Perhaps, by that time, she would be able to give up, to tell someone or herself to remove it. But what if he passed away sooner? Was it possible that she cared about these things, and that was why they came to mind, or was it that she simply observed them as fact? If she did not surrender to oblivion, what would she do? Would she stand guard by his tomb? Would she protect him, her first post-mortem friend, forever, or would she forget about him? All she found was confusion. Did the undead feel compassion? Did the undead know friendship? As her mind raced, Laura's expression was clouded. It was as if she was someplace far away, where no one could reach her. She was a thousand years into the past and into the future. It was horrible, existing in all three spans of time at once.

As quickly as the notion had struck her, it was gone. "Gods are, by no means, concise. They're horrible tricksters, most of them, and the ones that are straightforward are usually more terrible than those who perform underhanded deeds. I believe that gods exist not because they are searching for followers but because they already have them. Real gods are horribly fragmented, conflicted beings. In a modern world, they are all but completely lost. They scrape together a living, barely managing to keep their heads above water. They are as mortal without their faithful as you and I... er... you." The gods that Laura knew, she absolutely did not like. That Wednesday was absolutely deplorable. The things that he did to her puppy...and he, in the end, had been responsible for Shadow's death. It was maddening. There were good gods, though. The Egyptian ones, the ones that she had met in her initial death, were diplomatic and kind enough. She could imagine, though, that those who upset them, or those whose heart did not balance the feather, would not find them so pleasant.

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spitandviolets
2009-02-17 12:52 am UTC (link)

"I give up. It seems that I will never be able to beat you in a logical debate. I will just have to do my best to remember how to be a woman. Women, after all, have the innate ability to counter all logic with anti-logic. Anti-logic should not be confused with illogical assumptions. They're not wrong, they just nullify logic. I will do my best to never engage you in such a discussion again lest I embarrass myself thoroughly. All I have over you, though, is fact when it comes to certain matters, though the facts that I know are mostly insignificant."

"I will not heal if I am burned. There is no supposition about it. Cuts do not cause me to bleed, but the wound will never seal itself. I do not bruise, but any broken bones will never be mended. The only way that I can repair damage done to my body is to stitch it closed myself. That is one thing that the mainstream media gets right about the undead. I understand now why some zombies and Frankensteins are stitched together with thick, black thread or cord. I have found that the planet has provided me with such a spool and an undertaker's needle. I know I could have asked for any color thread, but the black seemed appropriate in my mind. Maybe I subconsciously want to wear it as a mark of shame, a way to warn human beings about what I am. You don't see people walking around with visible black stitches in their anatomy."

She watched as the Golem delivered his food. For someone who liked sweets so much, at least he seemed to eat other things. "Well, you must not do too poorly at knowing what to eat. Since you consider sugar to be a food group, I was expecting the planet to pick up on that subconscious desire. Yet here your plate is, full of things that are good for you. I will have to spoil you later with a layer cake, then, if you eat everything." That wonderfully crooked smile spread across her face. She was teasing him, in treating him like a little kid. It was fun in a way. She felt distantly happy. At least she still had the capacity for jokes. "Chocolate with chocolate? Or chocolate with white? Or something completely exotic and interesting?"

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Wow, sorry for the long winded!

spitandviolets
2009-02-17 12:52 am UTC (link)

Though he was doing his best to hide it, Laura could sense the trepidation in his voice. L genuinely did not want others from his world to appear. It seemed the closest to fear that she had seen in him. Unlike his concern for her, this seemed more like fear to her. "Some people know each other here," she echoed, nodding her head. Gathering her thoughts, she sipped her water. Her grip on the glass, though, was too strong. The glass shattered in her hand. Fortunately, the water was already gone. Laura was always thirsty. Something akin to blind rage was bubbling up inside of her. It was that same horrible anger that she had experienced when she'd killed those two men who were hurting her Puppy. She wanted blood. She wanted human blood. She wanted the blood of the ones that L did not want to appear. Managing, barely, to center herself, Laura looked up at L. Her eyes were wild; there was something behind that look. It was grave, and it was unsettling. "Some people know each other here. This means that it is possible for people from the same world to be drawn to this place. Do I think that it is possible that others from my world might be drawn here? Yes, I know for a fact that it is possible. Do I think it is possible that others from your world might be drawn here? Yes, I know for a fact that it is possible." One icy hand reached out as she stood up, leaning over the table. She took his hand with her icy one. Her strength was incredible. Her grip was firm, like a knight swearing allegiance to a lord. Her unblinking eyes stared straight into his face. "I swear to you, however, that if any of the people from your world appear, that wicked boy with a murderous notebook who was supposedly your friend, or his wicked bitch of a girlfriend, or anyone else that you find unsavory, I will protect you. I will protect you. They will get one warning from me. I will make sure that they understand the gravity of that warning. If they harm so much as the air around you, if they try anything at all, then I will claim their heads and make their lives a living Hell." Not wanting to hurt him, she let his grip go. Drawing back into her chair, curling into herself, Laura became a ball of brooding darkness in that instant. If they came, they would have only one opportunity. They would suffer at her hands. Even if she could not kill, she could wound. What was the worst that they could do, write the name of a woman already dead in their notebook? Let them try. She chuckled darkly, shaking her head as the Golem cleaned the glass and set a new glass of water before her. She sipped at the crystal liquid. Let them try.

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lol, it's all good. I admire your skillz and endurance, lol

meticulous_soul
2009-02-17 08:59 pm UTC (link)

"It isn't comforting... but most of what is comforting in the world is a lie, I've found," L said, taking a bit of melon delicately between his thumb and forefinger and savoring a small bite. "Maybe I believe in justice, and the idea that the world will be a better place when I am gone for future generations until there aren't any human beings left. On earth, that will happen, someday... the Sun will expand and engulf the Solar System, eventually, even if humans survive as a species for that long. It is maddening, and pointless... but maybe that's what makes humans what we are. We challenge everything, fight against the impossible, work towards a goal we can never achieve. We give our lives for causes that are subjectively good or evil, and dedicate them to what some humans have called noble and others have named corrupt. But... like you... I am glad that I am wrong. I am glad to know that there is something after," he admitted, conceding softly and gracefully as he truly was relieved.

"I like hearing about the gods from your world. It's all very interesting," he said, nodding to emphasize his fascination with the topic. He had no idea that she was, even now, thinking about his death... but it would have disquieted him, to think of her state of existence and how it made time seem nonexistent. How, if the way time passed for a person was relative based on their lifespan, his life would pass Laura by in a flash. It would have been strange, to attempt to relate to Laura with the knowledge that he would soon be dead, really dead, in her perception of time.

"Ah... it is unfair, to women, to generalize that way," L chided gently. "I have known some logical women. 'Anti-logic,' given your premises from your world and how they work with the ones in mine, is an apt way of putting it, though your logic is far from bad. Please don't think that you need to avoid this topic of conversation, as I enjoy it thoroughly."

Even the mention of black stitches, horrific and reminiscent of Frankenstein as it was, couldn't distract L from the promise of layer cake. Not that L found Frankenstein horrific; this was the man who had been disappointed to hear that he wasn't something like a Frankenstein monster. "Chocolate... and chocolate," he decided, his simple desire for something familiar winning out. "Perhaps, once this place feels more like home... we can try to make something exotic."

He started slightly at Laura's sudden change in demeanor, when she heard that he was, in short, afraid of meeting with others from his world. With Light, in particular. He flinched, his shoulders tensing, when the glass shattered. "Laura... it's OK," he said as she took his hand, his eyes wary. They widened when she made her solemn promise, and he was speechless for several moments after she returned to her seat.

"Laura... you... really mean that?"

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