fourth. text.

[torrefied]

In the interest of having it completed some time this century, I'm taking over the project to create a guide document for new arrivals.

[And he's starting it from scratch, no thanks to Chris.]

If you can tear yourselves away from telling ghost stories long enough to reply, I'm interested to know what information you found most helpful when you first arrived, as well as what you would have liked to know sooner rather than later.

Comments

[unitas]

No, fuck you, Mello, this is important. [ The words are tumbling out of her mouth faster than she can think them through. He doesn't see himself the way he should. ] You've got more use than the vast fucking majority of assholes here, all right? You're willing to do the things others aren't, what they can't, and you don't even do it for yourself.

[ She takes a breath, a beat, and then: ] That is more useful, and important than some shitty guide.

[torrefied]

[... She doesn't understand.

She can't, really, because she hasn't lived the life of a Wammy's child - L's child - and there is only so much that imagination can do. When it comes to understanding, there is no substitute for lived experience, and just as Mello can't truly fathom the full depths of the horrors Sharon has experienced, neither can she know, bone-deep, the particular ways in which the House broke and remodeled the children who passed through its great iron gates. Maybe if Mello had never been sent there, maybe if he'd been allowed to grow up in a more normalized fashion, maybe if he'd been expected to make mistakes and learn from them the way children and teenagers do as a part of their natural learning processes - maybe then he'd be able to see the truth of what Sharon insists to him now, that he has worth beyond the measure of his accumulated wins or losses.

But he didn't, and he wasn't, and Sharon's words are as unintelligible to his brain as the metamorphosed Gregor Samsa's to his terrified family. And Mello can recognize the Kafkaesque absurdity in this situation, that a girl he murdered is on the other side of the phone, trying to convince him that there is more to him than the sum of his many flaws - he can recognize the strengths she lists, because they're strengths he's recognized in himself. Mello is very self-aware; he has done things that most people would consider impossible, and in the past, he has seen them as glimmering points of pride against the darkness of almost was and not good enough.

But Near has always outshone him, and the combined illumination of him and L together is bright enough to completely wash out anything good Mello ever believed about himself. The old world's runner-up, he'd called himself, once. He can be many things, but there is one thing he can never be, and that is the only thing he believes truly matters - the best.

Mello wants something right now, and he isn't sure if it's to laugh or scream or put his fist through the wall, or all of the above, in alphabetical order. He does none of those things.]

It's all right, Sharon. Look - forget I said anything, OK? What you said is right - we can't trust the gods, and everyone who's unlucky enough to end up pulled into their power games deserves to know right from the start what they're up against. This information will help. And I'm going to have it finished and available before the next group arrives.

[unitas]

[ she huffs through her nose. it's not her place to press, but she wants to. she fucking shouldn't. ] Whatever, fine. [ without video, he can't see the press of her lips, but frustration—maybe even hurt—ring in her voice. he's an adult, and fully capable of dealing with his own emotional issues; if he doesn't want to talk about it, then fine. ]

Good luck with the guide. [ a pause, and then: ] If you need me, you know how to contact me.

[torrefied]

[He can tell she isn't happy with this outcome, the brush aside and redirection - no need to see her face to understand that. But this is fine, isn't it? His feelings aren't important. The result - getting the document written - is what matters. And he's lived with his feelings of inadequacy for long enough to know how to manage them, and how he does that is by throwing himself into his work. Compiling this information is the best thing to do for a number of reasons. So it's fine.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have let his mask slip like this, but if he had and she were anyone else, he wouldn't care about hurting her feelings. But something about the tone she uses causes a dull ache to spider out across his chest. It's a mostly unfamiliar feeling, but he recognizes it as being the same thing he feels whenever the idea of someone hurting her crosses his mind. It's unpleasant, and it requires action.]

... Thank you, Sharon.

[The words feel clumsy on his tongue, rusty from disuse; he hasn't ever had much cause to give or receive gratitude. But it's important for her to know that he does appreciate her - her words, her ideas, her passion, her presence. Mello has fashioned himself into a stringently self-reliant creature, but - maybe he does need her, even if it's only a little bit.]