hadriel | eighth. voice (breathe underwater, i'm coming up for air).

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eighth. voice (breathe underwater, i'm coming up for air).

[It's been a while since Mello's addressed the network with anything but cold, impersonal text (well, except for that one time he was possessed by a demon, but let's not dwell on that, he wasn't exactly himself), and the fact that he is now choosing this method of communication is significant - Mello does nothing without purpose. He's been here an entire year, and he has begun to slowly pull himself out of the mindset of a man with one day left to live and not much to lose. Near was right; he is better at dealing with people than he has been, and it's well past time he took steps to rectify that. He's stuck here, perhaps indefinitely, and he has, in spite of his various missteps over the past year, become a part of this community.

So when he speaks now, his tone is a measure less haughty and condescending than you might be used to seeing from him. This is, believe it or not, what an attempt at teamwork looks like.]

I've revised the introductory guide, and I've included a new attachment with a summarized history of the events that have transpired here. Please take time to review it. If anything of importance is missing, I'd like to know.

[Look at that, Hadriel. He even said please.]

I think we need better documentation of what happens to us here - not just so that we aren't forced to keep explaining things to the newcomers ad nauseam, but because our history informs who we are, collectively. And I can't help thinking that if the gods here or their so-called previous host population had left better records of what happened before, we might have been better prepared for what happened when we were attacked not long ago by the things that killed them off. Now, I'm good at collecting information, but I'm only one person, and as we've seen, the Door is unpredictable about who comes and goes. If only one person is collecting this sort of information and that person disappears, we all lose that record.

[He falls silent for a moment, thinking of Near's recent disappearance. As much as he dislikes to admit it, even to himself, it's something that has left a deep impact - deep enough, perhaps, to prompt this shift in his attitude.]

I guess ... I'm asking for your help. All of you.

[Don't make this weird, Hadriel. It takes a lot for Mello to ask for help with anything.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You know what life is like here. Furthermore, you know what my life is like here. Do you really think I'm busy with something grand and important?

I wouldn't presume to know what's important to you.

[Said more regretfully than combatively. He can imagine L doesn't find anything here important, since he has an idea of the sort of activity L's used to. But it's more a statement on the fact that despite L's importance in Mello's life, despite the fact that they've been living under the same roof for months, he doesn't know the man well at all. And while Mello may not know what does interest L, specifically, he has a strong suspicion that he himself is nowhere on that list.]

Why not?

[Mello's right. L's set adrift in Hadriel, isolated. He doesn't think that anyone does know what's important to him. Hell, hardly anyone knows him, period, even by the fake name Luke Landau.]

If there's anyone here who at least has an idea, it'd be you.

[Nope, he is definitely not doing this in public.]

I think ... rather than claiming I know you, it would be more accurate to say that I'm aware of you. And vice versa.

[And yes, that choice of words is entirely intentional.]

[There's a several beats-long pause before L answers.]

I see.

Yes, I think that's accurate.

[Well. It's not like Mello expected a different answer. Still, it hurts, having that concrete acknowledgement.]

So ... if I don't know you, I can't really say I know what's important to you. That's ...

[That's not all he has to say on the subject. Mello trails off into a deep, frustrated sigh.]

Look ... I know I don't have to tell you what you meant to us - the kids at the House. You were a legend.

[And legends are hard to see as people, even if you've met them in the flesh.]

[It's the kind of answer that L keeps simple to prevent from cutting even deeper than it might... but the result is that it leaves him feeling dead and hollow. It confirms what he'd always suspected: that no one really knows him, not even someone trained from a young age to understand the way he works.

Well. That's not quite true. One person "gets" L, and he isn't here. On top of that, he tried to topple the entire legacy.]

Of course. That is how it was. But if being here can't make the legend real, I'm not sure what can.

[God, he misses Light. Sometimes he can crush it down deep. Moments like this, when he's reminded of his loneliness and boredom, it's especially acute.]

You still are a legend. To me.

[Which is to say that yes, it's still difficult for Mello to push past his sense of worship for the ideal that L represents and see him for the man he is.]

I don't - I don't know how to just set that aside like it doesn't matter.

I suppose it would be selfish to ask you to.

Tell me how. If you know - if you can tell me how to -

[Mello's voice falters - a betrayal, perhaps, of how deeply embedded this issue is to the core of who he is.]

If you can tell me how to stop thinking of one of the most important people in my life as such, I'll try.

[There's more to the request than the words themselves say - it's Tell me how to learn who you really are, not just who I think you are.]

Edited 2017-05-15 13:34 (UTC)

I think that first you have to want to. Is that possible?

I ... I don't know. I guess ... I don't really feel like I have the right to ask for it.

Edited 2017-05-16 16:00 (UTC)

Do I have that right to be spoken to like a human being? Maybe one who can't fix everything, and doesn't have all the answers? Because I can't, and I don't.

I didn't ask you to fix everything.

Maybe not out loud, but I think a part of you, at least, expected me to, and is disappointed in the way things have panned out.

I don't blame you; I'm disappointed, too.

I'm not disappointed. [That's ... mostly true.] What did I do to give you that idea?

You spent years in that place. Isn't that enough?

The House? [He exhales in a quiet huff, halfway between bitter laughing and scoffing in disbelief.] I was there because I wanted to be there. And the second I didn't want to be there anymore, I left.

There did come a point where you didn't want to be there anymore, though. If it had been better for you, I think that might not have happened.

I left because you were dead, and - and because -

[No no no, Mello does not want to relive one of the worst days of his life, and yet the memory is intrusive, refusing to stay pushed down. His voice falters, and he has to stop and take a deep breath before he can finish his thought.]

Because you didn't choose me. [Because I wasn't good enough.] There was no point in staying, after that.

[There is a significant, heavy silence that stretches on for a few ticks too long to be quite comfortable. Outbursts from Mello are to be expected, but that is where their predictability ends.]

I didn't choose either of you. It's not as though I had the chance, and even then... we were years from the point where I believed I would have to make that decision.

[Except that he always knew it was a possibility. That's why the House existed at all.]

[Bullshit, he might say, if this were anyone other than L.]

You had to know it was a possibility that you'd be killed. Wasn't that the whole point of facing Yagami in person? To provoke him into showing his hand? I don't believe for a second that you didn't know just how high the stakes were.

There is always a possibility. Even when they aren't inflicted by Kira, a heart attack, for example, is something that could potentially happen to a person at any point.

I knew that the stakes were high. That's why I accepted the case. I always solved them, until I didn't, remember?

[Maybe that's the difference between a natural victor and a born loser - confidence in one's abilities. Mello made the mistake of overconfidence once, and it cost him half of his face.]

You don't have to remind me of that.

Gentle reminders at significant junctures tend to be worth the risk.

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