hadriel | Je me fous du passé

Entry tags:

Je me fous du passé

[The feed opens with Bianca. She stands in Delight's bar, the lighting rearranged to get as close as she can to the appearance of being on stage, and she glares into the camera and takes a large swig of the glass in her hand before she makes any sound.

Then she sings. Inside the bar, her voice is strong enough to rattle glasses.

People listening to the feed on the network may hear the familiar Lancastrian accent of Kate, grumbling almost inaudible complaints. Most of them seem to be along the lines of why did I agree to this and why did I give up booze.

The song ends and Bianca casts a grateful look at Kate before launching into speech.]

I have lived a long time, my friends. I am sorry for many things. I've been unforgivably careless of people's hearts and hopes. I've allied myself with the most treacherous of worms - I have trusted too much, cared too much, and -

[She stops.]

Or not cared enough. I have broken people for my own gain. I have sold myself to a power I knew to be malevolent, to buy my own life. I have tormented those I believed I loved, and abandoned those I know I did. Kate -

[She gazes, stricken, past the camera.]

I pulled you into this scheme. You almost died. Sharon and Maketh did die. I'm sorry, so sorry, for that.

[And then she lifts her chin, defiant.]

But I'm not sorry we made the attempt. I'm not sorry for taking a risk on the chance of buying all our freedom. Are you watching, Hope? Did you feel it, just when it started? The only real hope I've felt since coming here? I hoped so hard to end you.

I'm only sorry we failed.

[There's a brief resigned sigh from behind the camera as the feed goes out.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It is depressing, and a rigid view of the world. Mello may be a highly creative thinker, but there are some things he learned at the House that he either hasn't been able to abandon, or else hasn't had the desire to. This is one of them. When you're raised in such a fiercely competitive environment, when you've always come close but never quite achieved first place, it's bound to produce this sort of result. Mello may never have won, by his definition, but he also never stopped trying. Every failure only served to strengthen his resolve and redouble his efforts. It's only now, after he's resigned himself to the very real nature of his own impending death, that there is no sense in continuing to make the attempt. He's accepted that ending Kira's reign is a no-win scenario for him, and while he doesn't like it at all, he is entirely too practical to cling to illusions of grandeur when the evidence is so firmly stacked against him.

He's prepared to die, but he doesn't want death, doesn't crave it in the same way he hears in what Sharon says. And he can understand it, in a detached, intellectual way, that there are people who feel this way and circumstances that cause those feelings, but he has never been able to understand that desire in an emotional way, because it's an expression of despair, and his own despair has always been quickly dissolved into anger and action. What she confesses isn't really a surprise - she hadn't made any effort to fight back when he came to kill her, and he'd honestly tried to give her the opportunity to avoid being killed - but it isn't something he can immediately parse, either.]

But you had to know it wouldn't be permanent.

I'd hoped he wouldn't bother. [ but she'd woken up on the cold marble despite all her hopes, devastated. she screamed herself hoarse, and cursed his very fucking existence, and smashed a fist into the stone until the only thing she felt was the tingling, numb pain from her cracked knuckle instead of that horrible, heavy sense of absolute failure and heartbreak.

she did not kill a god. she did not find the Door. she accomplished nothing, not even fucking death. ]

I know better than to hope. [ now she will squash her hopes down until there is nothing left of them. he will get nothing from her if she can help it. ]

I've never really had much use for hope. Hoping for something feels far too passive - it's putting too much control over the situation in the hands of some nebulous, unknowable entity.

[Which is probably too much to say about himself, but he does it anyway, a roundabout I understand. Mello finds himself thinking of the dreams, of the one he had that he knew for sure was influenced by Hope, and another that he assumes was as well, and how painful they were to realize after waking again. Mello is a creature of emotion, and he has mostly embraced that as a strength, but hope is an emotion that is better off excised, he thinks. There is no benefit to be found, from what he can see.]

So instead, I believed in myself. I find myself much more reliable.

[ She laughs, though it sounds more like a sigh. ] I tried that, and you saw where that got me.

[ The gods have a way of taking everything, one piece at a time. It doesn't start that way, but slowly, surely, their power hungry meddling takes a toll. Some find a way to cope, but Sharon's never been great at coping, her mechanisms far too self-destructive to do her any good.

She swallows. ] But I, uh... [ There are a great many things that Sharon is not great at, and expressing herself in a way that doesn't simply come off as awkward is one of them. ] appreciate [ these are the right words, right? ] the apology. I don't exactly blame you, or anything.

You owe me a new vest, though. [ it's kind of a joke. really. honestly. she's bad at this, ignore her. ]

I don't disagree with what you were trying to accomplish in principle, Sharon, just how it was applied, and I gave you my reasons for that. I don't like being here any more than you do.

[He has important things yet to accomplish, and being yanked here on the eve of putting his plan into motion is endlessly frustrating.]

You do have power, and that's an important thing, but so is having a solid strategy. "Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win" - have you heard that before?

[He's not really lecturing her, or at least that's not his intention. There's a note of support, even encouragement in what he says.

He also recognizes the joke about the vest, and laughs quietly.]

Yeah, I guess I do. I'll see what I can come up with. I'd give you mine, but it's the wrong color.

[And, you know, probably would be too small, because have you seen how scrawny Mello is? Luckily, he's also aware enough to keep that part to himself. Plus he's been wearing it for God only knows how long.

He hesitates for a moment, but decides to go ahead and ask his next question:]

Did you get your photograph back, at least?

Don't, Mello. [ There's an urge to snap at him, but she restrains herself, biting the inside of her cheek. She has little interest in lectures, or lessons, whether or not it's meant to be encouraging. The only thing she really wants to do is lick her wounds, not be berated, or go through the flaws of her admittedly shoddy plan.

But then the conversation shifts. The mention of the photograph stops her heart, a quiet gasp escaping her. On instinct, her fingers ruffle through her vest pocket, the sound audible. It's quickly followed with the sound of something being straightened—the photograph.

When she speaks next, her voice is tense, and emotional. She wants to be upset that he'd seen it—it's hers, something beyond private—but she was dead and dead girls have no need for things like photos. ]

I wanted my last thoughts to be of my parents. [ And if she were to die with them in her thoughts, maybe death would be just one, long dream of them. She could die unafraid believing that. ]

[He has to swallow the impulse to protest that he's just trying to help, because that's honestly where his intentions lie. They've disagreed in the past, but Mello recognizes that Sharon has true power, and could make a valuable ally. With a more strategic, targeted approach - one that didn't endanger Near's safety - she might very well have succeeded in achieving her goals. This is what his mind does, what it was trained to do over the course of many years - analyze information, make assessments, come up with a plan of attack. He can't see a thing gone wrong and not try to fix it.

But it's not what's of primary importance, and the tone she uses with him makes it clear that she's in no state to hear his ideas on the subject. So he shelves it for now, focuses on the other part of what she says instead. The change in her voice is louder than a bomb, and it speaks volumes.]

That's understandable. They're important to you.

[People keep photographs of those with significance. And parents are overwhelmingly significant, for better or worse, to their children. Mello is a measure more quiet when he asks this next question-that-isn't.]

That was your dream, wasn't it. The pancakes.

Edited 2016-07-06 03:51 (UTC)

That had been one of those really good weeks. I hadn't had any nightmares in a couple of days, and it was just... They were happy, I was happy. [ That memory, along with countless other hopes and dreams she once had, has been tainted now thanks to the godly interference. They dig up things precious, personal, and use them.

What will happen to them when there are no more memories for them to feed upon, no more fears, or hopes? ]

I ruined that. [ And that kind of realization cuts deep. ] I ruined their lives. [ Everything she touches will fall to ruin. Alessa cursed herself when she cursed the cult. ]

That's what it looked like. It was a pleasant dream. They seemed like nice people - like what parents are supposed to be, if stories are to be believed.

[Mello doesn't have enough firsthand experience with his parents to make a comparison; both were taken from him much too early in the short stretch of his own life. By now, the memories of both of them have faded and blurred around the edges, the way a dream does after waking, details melting into vague impressions rather than concrete lines.]

How do you mean?

I created Sharon da Silva. [ it's both strange, and not at all strange to talk of herself in the third person. she is both Sharon da Silva and not, after all. ] A long time ago, a group of terrible people that ran a town decided that I was a good vessel to birth their god. I could survive being burned alive, so that's what they did. I think I was... [ there's an incredible sense of detachment to her tone, until she has to think back to really remember something. her voice breaks, and she quickly clears her throat to cover it. ] I was eleven, I think.

[ and then? Fuck. ] I had powers before they did that, but after I managed to stop the ritual, I was... I was something else. [ she swallows. she was so hurt, so hurt and no one cared. or, when they did, she hurt them. little girls do not know how to deal with the aftermath of such horrors. ]

I created a world—you've witnessed a version of it—and pulled all of those terrible people into it with me. [ it's more than clear she's simplifying things ] I was in there for years, and eventually I decided to find a way to leave.

I left by breaking my soul to create a child. I placed her into the world knowing she would be adopted. [ a beat, a swallow, and then: ] I placed her into the world knowing that one day she would have to come back.

[ not to mention, a part of the cult found out and began to seek out the child. ]

[If there's anyone in this place who understands the idea of creating another person to become and conceptualizing that person as an entity apart from yourself, it's Mello. He's created a number of false names and identities over the years, each one with a specific purpose. Mello is just the name that's served the best purpose for the longest amount of time, the most significant one. He could have picked any name, really, once it became clear that he would never take L's title for himself; Mello was assigned to him at the House, but he chose it once he left and set out in the rain past the great iron gates that stood sentry to the orphanage that raised him until he was almost fifteen, the factory that churned out so many broken children in an attempt to create a perfect problem-solving machine.

He understands, too, what it means to be burned alive - maybe not in exactly the same way, since it was a short blast of flame, and he chose to suffer that torture rather than fall into the hands of the police, which would have meant a certain death sentence and a bigger failure than what he actually endured. He was luckier than most who were in that warehouse that night in November. But he knows all too well the pain of being forged by fire into something ultimately stronger.

Mello is very quiet, listening to Sharon's story, barely even breathing as he takes in her words, this horror story of unspeakable things done to a child. He isn't surprised, because there's nothing surprising about the capacity people have for doing awful things, even to children. But it does draw out a scowl of pure disgust, unseen from the other side of his phone. He's quiet still for long moments after she finishes speaking, only then offering a quiet statement:]

You did what was necessary in order to survive.

[No judgment in his words, there, or if there is, it's in her favor. Facing insurmountable odds and coming out victorious on the other side is no easy feat.]

[ The similarities, it seems, continue to rise in count between them. They are children—for all of the years behind them, they are children when it comes to the world—who have survived abuse, and fire, though each under different circumstances, and have managed to come out of it.

They did not come out on top, but they came out nonetheless. They survived, and they'll continue to, as long as their luck holds (if you could call any of that luck). ]

And doomed the only people to care for me. [ There was Cybil, the officer whose face she'll never forget—nor the sound of her gasps as she watched the fires consume her flesh—but she cared in a much different way than Rose, and Christopher, and, perhaps, Vincent. ]

It makes me wish I hadn't survived.

[When is the cost of survival too high? That's the question that comes to Mello's mind, along with the answer to his own question, something he knows in that same instant: when it impacts the lives of those you care for. He swallows hard against the sudden dryness in his throat, remembering the fate that Near told him befell Matt, and another intense wave of regret washes over him. Maybe that's why he feels compelled to tell her about this, because ordinarily, he would never so easily put his own weakness on display.]

The place that raised me until I was fifteen was more than just an orphanage - I guess you could say it was like a private academy of sorts, and it was an extremely competitive environment. We weren't exactly discouraged from making friends with each other, but it naturally fell by the wayside, because we all had other priorities. Somehow, despite that, I did make one friend there. We fell out of touch when I left, but we reconnected not long ago. I looked him up, and he agreed to help me with my plan to take down Kira.

[Mello pauses, just long enough to think about how he shouldn't have reached out to Matt, shouldn't have asked for his help, shouldn't have gotten him killed.]

He wasn't supposed to die. I was. But he did, and it's my fault.

[I know, or something like that, is what he means in confessing this to her.]

Maybe some of us can't help dooming those who are close to us.

[ The way he describes the orphanage—the more than just an orphanage—makes her wonder what, exactly, kind of place he was forced to grow up in. A little bit of competition between children is normal, but when it's encouraged, when the environment and learning is based around it, she can only imagine the complexes that he's developed because of all that. And what sorts of things does a private academy style orphanage teach?

It leaves her with more questions about his past, but she reserves them for another time, especially as he continues on. He made one friend, and had he never reached out to him for help, he would have still been alive.

She swallows, throat suddenly tight. These are regrets she knows too well, can relate to all too well, and it makes her heart ache. ]

I bet he knew the consequences, Mello. [ It's strange to say his name with such softness, but there it is, her own silent way of saying she understands. ] It's not your fault. [ Strong, certain. ]

I'm sure he did. We never talked about it, but - he's a smart guy.

[Matt grew up in Kira's world, too; his reign of terror reached all corners of the Earth. One would have to literally live in a cave to be unaware of the reality of that world. And Matt was a legitimate genius, just like all the children accepted to Wammy's House, ranked third after Near and Mello himself. He knew the risks of throwing in his lot with a wanted criminal like Mello. Still ... Mello intended for Matt to get away unscathed, and knowing that his miscalculation cost Matt his life stings harder than any other failure - a compound loss, perhaps, in light of the accumulated evidence that Mello is simply not good enough, and he never will be.]

We can't change the past, Sharon. We can only change the future. It hasn't happened for me yet, but if I can get back to where and when I'm supposed to be, I'll make damn sure he isn't killed.

[He has no intention of changing his own suicide mission, though.]

If I can't ... well, I guess it won't matter.

[There's a thanks somewhere in there, an acknowledgment of understanding. He's just awful at expressing outright gratitude, because it's such an uncommon thing for him.]

Edited 2016-07-15 20:32 (UTC)

[ If he's from the same that same orphanage, Sharon doubts he's just a 'smart guy', probably far more similar in intelligence with Mello than any average joe, but he likely comes with his own issues, his own hang ups; children without parents, children that grow up in harsher environments always have their problems—both Sharon, and Mello are a testament to that.

And then there's that: he wants to change his future—or not his future, she catches that, but his friend's. There is more to Mello than she'd originally thought, more to his pompous, smarter-than-thou attitude; she regrets her quick judgement of him. People often judge her just as quickly, and she should have known better. ]

...You're not such a terrible person, Mello. [ We sometimes do bad things for good reasons, and she can see that in him, finally. ] I hope you get the chance to save him, and maybe... try to make sure you come through it, too.

[ Maybe you deserve to try for a happy ending. ]

[Mello hasn't given much consideration to his own moral character in a very long time - probably since before the orphanage, if he were entirely honest. Once he was part of the House's machinery, concepts of good and bad were inextricably linked with results - win and lose, better and best. He's never been the best, so he's never been good enough, much less good. Maybe that's why the decision to make himself into a criminal was an easy one to choose - if taking that path facilitated victory, it would be worth the costs accumulated on the way.

But he can recognize the kindness in what she says to him - he just doesn't believe it's possible. Monsters don't get happy endings, after all.]

I ... I appreciate the sentiment, Sharon. But there's nothing left for me, after.

[He says this in an entirely factual manner, no trace of self-pity. He's considered all angles, worked all the math. This is the only thing that can be done. It feels strange to speak of it aloud, but it doesn't feel wrong. Somehow, Mello senses that Sharon may understand.]

It's difficult to explain. But the point is, I have to die in order for my plan to work.

That sounds like bullshit. [ There's a tightness to her voice, a little sharp and angry, like she's swallowing back some form of argument. She would never go so far as to say she liked Mello—too soon when she can still feel a twinge of pain in her chest thinking back to her death—but she doesn't want him to just go back home and die. ]

[It does sound like bullshit, if you don't know the reasoning behind it. Ai said the same thing, more or less, even though he did explain it to her. Is it worth trying again, with Sharon? Mello finds that he wants her to understand - maybe not because he owes her that, per se, but he senses that since she's lived through extreme circumstances, she's better suited to understand than Ai was.]

Sacrifices have to be made in any battle, Sharon. I can explain it if you really want to know - just not over the phone. I don't trust they're secure. I'd have to meet you somewhere.

[He pauses, then makes an attempt at a dry joke:]

I'll even leave my gun at home this time.

[He won't really, not because he believes Sharon to still be a threat, but because everything in this place is a threat, and intentionally disarming himself would be stupid.]

Edited 2016-07-17 20:56 (UTC)

[ The last time they'd met face to face, it ended exactly how she'd expected it to—though, if he hadn't pulled the trigger, she would have done something to force his hand (a flash of fire, her eyes turning dark, and it would have only been instinct to react). She chews her lower lip.

Fuck, what's the worst that can happen?

And then there's that joke. She cracks a smile she can't help, and lets out a dark huff of laughter. ]

Because either of us being defenseless sounds like a good idea, huh? [ They've both done something to earn the ire of others, and Sharon isn't blind to that. She swallows. ] I'll meet you, but I'd rather... [ She knows just how this sounds. ] ...stay out of the public eye, I'm sure you can understand why.

It's a smart strategy.

[It's what he's done, since the danger cleared enough for him to leave Fear's temple - kept on the move, out of sight. It's not a perfect strategy - Hadriel is still an enclosed system, with only so many places available in which to hide - but it's the best option, under the circumstances.]

Name the place. I'll meet you there.

The northern most bridge, past Delight's bar, on the other side. If you follow the trail, you'll come across an empty temple; I'll be there.

[ It doesn't matter how long it takes Mello to get there, Sharon's there first, having obviously been nearby during the duration of their conversation. She's leaned up against a corner of the building. There's no sign of her white vest, instead replaced with a dark, hooded sweatshirt, and the hood is pulled up, only partially obscuring her features. There's no immediate sign that she has a weapon on her, but anyone observant will catch the hilt of a dagger tucked in her left boot, and something ]

[It's not too long before he shows up - jacket hood pulled up over his head, unnecessary sunglasses over his eyes. He does note the weapon stashed in her boot, because he can't not observe every available small detail, but his own pistol remains stowed away at the small of his back, in the waistband of his pants. He doesn't take care to deaden his footsteps as he approaches, but his voice is quiet when he calls her name to announce himself:]

Sharon.

You don't look suspicious, or anything. [ Sharon manages out, a bit of a wry grin crossing her features (an expression that looks off with the dark circles, and pale pallor of her skin), before she pushes off the hard stone of the temple, stuffing her hands into the pouch of her hoodie. Her fingers brush upon the familiar shape of Hope's cellphone, the golden seal of Metatron, and then Fear's orb—it makes her skin crawl just to touch it, but she can't leave it behind, not willing to let it fall into another person's hands. ]

[The corner of his mouth twitches in a not-quite smile, an acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation.]

Yeah, it's a better look for crowds, usually, but I can't really afford to take chances.

[It's weird, seeing her alive again - equal parts discomfiting and reassuring. It's something that should be impossible, or at the very least, relegated to the realm of miracles. The dead have never once returned, in Mello's experience - not as anything more than memories or dreams. He clears his throat and looks down to fidgeting with the cuff of the glove on his right hand.]

What I'm going to tell you - it has to stay a secret. That's why I didn't want to tell you over the phone.

[He drops the glove's cuff and folds his arms over his chest, then glances back up to Sharon again.]

Can I count on you not to repeat any of this? I think you'll understand why in a minute here, and it may seem like an incredibly slim chance that the person I'm talking about will ever show up, but again - I can't afford to take chances.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject