Emily Davis (
unfollowing) wrote in
hadriel2016-08-21 12:25 pm
Entry tags:
第5: esteemed emily #1 (voice)
[The few "letters" Emily has received since graciously offering her services as an advice-giver are, as expected, shit. Hell, two of them aren't even real requests, just her idiot friends being idiots (in the best way, she misses when it was always like this, simple, harmless, fun). The one actually serious one is about as bad as she'd thought she'd get from the hopeless disasters in this cave, so hey. This isn't bad.
Honestly, the hardest part about this is deciding what format to do this in. Finally, on the morning of the 21st, she decides to just get this shit done. At least one idiot out there needs her help. She doesn't want to video this (mostly because she doesn't want to work with the shitty makeup here, come on, she knows what cameras do to you), but text won't convey her message quite well enough, so. Voice it is.]
I'm just going to dive right into this. I got three submissions. I'm going to read them off one at a time and answer each before I go to the next one. These are supposed to be anonymous, so try not to be such assholes that you out someone if you figure out who they are.
Unless they're obviously trolling, which-- well. You'll see.
Here goes.
First up is this fucking gem [heavy is the sarcasm in Esteemed Emily's voice]:
Second, an actual question:
[NOBODY can guess who the local teenage girl hater is, right? Jesus fucking Christ.]
Seriously, I don't know what the fuck to tell you. Like, we all make mistakes, [she's thinking about Mike] but... like why are you conflicted here. He hates you. Was he that good that you want to hate makeout and maybe hatefuck? That's up to you, but if it were me, I would punch him in the balls and move on unless he changes his ways. Please fucking love yourself. Or at least be safe, goddamn.
[Another pause for breath. Christ. Dealing with hopeless people is hard.]
Finally, the best of the litter [again with the sarcasm]:
[Another pause, another sigh, and (if you listen very closely) a very dramatic eyeroll.]
Look, just stop being disasters, all right? There's like five of you that have come to me asking for dating advice already. Just talk to the person you like. If you want to fuck them, ask them. If you want to hold hands, ask them. If you want to just be best goddamn friends with them, ask them.
That's literally it. Stop being morons.
Goddamn.
[End.]
Honestly, the hardest part about this is deciding what format to do this in. Finally, on the morning of the 21st, she decides to just get this shit done. At least one idiot out there needs her help. She doesn't want to video this (mostly because she doesn't want to work with the shitty makeup here, come on, she knows what cameras do to you), but text won't convey her message quite well enough, so. Voice it is.]
I'm just going to dive right into this. I got three submissions. I'm going to read them off one at a time and answer each before I go to the next one. These are supposed to be anonymous, so try not to be such assholes that you out someone if you figure out who they are.
Unless they're obviously trolling, which-- well. You'll see.
Here goes.
First up is this fucking gem [heavy is the sarcasm in Esteemed Emily's voice]:
Esteemed Emily,[There's a pause where Emily sighs quietly, but even in the relative silence, it's exceedingly clear how unimpressed she is.] Chris, you're an idiot. You wish I were a nerd, just so you could claim you're cool by association with me. Newsflash: you aren't. Code yourself an app that'll run through some formulas or whatever to help you get the fuck over the fact that you will always and forever be the second nerdiest person I know.
I have a friend who is a total nerd but in complete denial about it, even though she's getting nerdier by the day and soon may surpass even me in the nerd ways. What should I do to help her accept her true self and her destiny?
Signed,
I'm locking my door so don't bother coming down here
Second, an actual question:
So say an opinionated girl made out with the local teenage girl hater. She's fairly conflicted about the whole thing. What should she do?I'm guessing you're a teenage girl, so my first thought is, why the fuck did you make out with someone who hates you? Do you hate yourself too?
-Opinionated Girl
[NOBODY can guess who the local teenage girl hater is, right? Jesus fucking Christ.]
Seriously, I don't know what the fuck to tell you. Like, we all make mistakes, [she's thinking about Mike] but... like why are you conflicted here. He hates you. Was he that good that you want to hate makeout and maybe hatefuck? That's up to you, but if it were me, I would punch him in the balls and move on unless he changes his ways. Please fucking love yourself. Or at least be safe, goddamn.
[Another pause for breath. Christ. Dealing with hopeless people is hard.]
Finally, the best of the litter [again with the sarcasm]:
hey em i got this friend who likes giving people advice but im clearly better at giving advice i never steer anyone wrongDo I even need to tell you how wrong you are? Idiot. Besides, nobody's stopping you from starting Jolly Josh or whatever. No, you know what? Stick to shitposting. You've got that down to a science.
how do i take her job
[Another pause, another sigh, and (if you listen very closely) a very dramatic eyeroll.]
Look, just stop being disasters, all right? There's like five of you that have come to me asking for dating advice already. Just talk to the person you like. If you want to fuck them, ask them. If you want to hold hands, ask them. If you want to just be best goddamn friends with them, ask them.
That's literally it. Stop being morons.
Goddamn.
[End.]

action.
[Because of course he remembers what happened the last time. (Although the last time, he hadn't been pretending the misconception had been accurate, hadn't even been making fun of him at all.) Yes, Mello had gotten angry and gone silent for a while, and even implied later that the silence had only gone on so long because of his death and sentence from the City Guard. Mello is considerably less worn down now.]
No, but I'd expected you to take it better than that time. [And he has. Yelling is an improvement over silence.] Excuse me, please.
[He squeezes through the traffic jam in front of his door on his way to the kitchen.] A reference to a misconception of our relationship that occurred weeks ago and Mello had taken very poorly. The entire situation was quite absurd. [He still doesn't quite understand why Mello had taken it as poorly as he had, though he now attributes at least some of it to general exhaustion.]
action.
A very stupid girl suggested that our relationship was physical in nature, and she did so where everyone could see it.
[The same girl, in fact, who wrote in to the advice column that prompted Mello's initial outburst of anger. The same girl who knows too much about Mello, who can hurt him with the knowledge she's acquired. The same girl he kissed in a fit of anger and overwhelm after he'd been brought back to life after his unplanned death. Mello's hands curl into fists at his side.]
Can't imagine why I was unhappy about that.
[He bites his bottom lip, silent for a moment, stinging under the criticism of I expected you to take it better. Near can never quite understand what it's like to be Mello, just as Mello will never be able to quite measure up. He turns his gaze to L instead of continuing to watch Near go about his business.]
"You've been unfaithful to me." That's what he said in his message. "I'm quite distraught."
[Mello scoffs loudly, wrapping his arms around himself, and leans back against the door frame. As if Near would care enough about anything Mello did to be distraught over it. He didn't even care that Mello was dead - for real - back home, and that's far more important.]
action.
If she was stupid, what reason was there to give her the dignity of listening to her? Outrageous lies from a place of non-authority aren't worth noticing, much less getting angry about.
[He shakes his head; it aches.]
The more strongly you feel about something like that, the more it looks like you care, one way or the other. Just so you're aware.
action.
[Teasing is really all it is. It's something that seems so at odds with Near's borderline robotic demeanour. Something out of place. Something human. Mello is the only one who brings it out of him with any kind of regularity.
[He plucks a glass from the cupboard, turns on the faucet to fill it.] I admittedly fail to see why it was so offensive myself. [He switches off the tap.] In any event, I would apologize for my part in this if I thought it would be productive, but that's doubtful.
[Mello would not believe it. And, frankly, he would be correct not to. Near prefers to simply let Mello blow off steam and eventually move on.]
action.
[Mello's jaw quickly clicks shut before his tone grows too sharp for the level of respect L deserves, even in an unpleasant situation like this. He inhales a deep breath through his nose, choosing to ignore Near's bullshit claims about hypothetical apologies for the moment and focus instead on explaining himself to L.]
It's not just what she said that one time - I have a history with her, dating back to my arrival, and she knows things, secrets about me that she shouldn't have ever learned. And I'm having an extremely difficult time managing her.
action.
A history? The kind that was being implied with Near, that you took offense to?
[He actually shares Near's view on this, that there's no reason to be offended.]
Regardless... you must have had some inkling that she could become a problem. Why did you get close to her in the first place?
action.
It appears to be progressing in that direction. [Said completely offhandedly, vaguely bored in tone. He doesn't care what Mello and Ebihara do with one another.]
As for how she came to know anything, it's my understanding that it came about as a by-product of the machinations of the "gods". Giving those trapped here dreams based upon the emotion they represent and allowing others to walk through them.
action.
Shut. Up. Near.
[Getting even those three words out of his clenched teeth is an ordeal. It should be obvious to both L and Near that this is a particularly raw nerve that's been hit - in other words, yes, things with Ai have become physical, though not to the extent her misfired message had suggested of Mello's relationship with Near.
He can't just ignore this, can't pretend it doesn't bother him, that it doesn't matter. Mello has never been able to abandon his emotions, even when they're this volatile and unwanted. He's never been able to talk his brain into overriding what his heart tells him. Maybe that's why he's never been able to be better than second best.]
action.
Withhold judgment... it isn't as if L exists here as more than a concept to be remembered. Kira doesn't either. Why shouldn't he pursue that, if it's what he really wants?
Of course, phrasing it any way is likely to make it sound like L is judging, with monotone harshness, how unsuited Mello is for the kind of life he was competing for. While it's been five or more years for both Mello and Near, the case, and his own death, are still very fresh in L's memory.]
Mello, there's no reason for you to feel insecure about that kind of relationship in a place like this... aside from the fact that sensitive information leaked, of course, but that's currently beyond all of our control and understanding.
Bonds of a physical and emotional nature are very important to some people, after all.
[Implying that they are not important to L and Near, of course. Even though he doesn't blatantly state it, might not even mean it to come through, it might as well be smeared in neon orange across the walls, or skywritten in plain view of every window.]
action.
[Perhaps he'd miscalculated how ready Mello had been to resume their game if he's gotten as bad as this. Emotions are such tricky things that defy quantifiable measurement and things that Near had long ago distanced himself from. It impedes understanding.
[Still, even with the deadly glare, Near is confident that he's not about to be subjected to any physical harm. So he isn't worried. And he hadn't even intended to cut with his latest words; he'd merely provided the asked-for context.
[Calmly, he sips from his glass. He's got nothing to add, making the determination not to make even any vague corrections. And he agrees with L's statements, even. And the unspoken implications that those kinds of bonds are unimportant to him. Never in his life has Near felt any desire for a physical bond. Only two emotional bonds exist for him. (Sorrow's revival had proved it, that he still feels guilt for what he'd done to Mai when neither of them were themselves.) And he has no intention of letting Mello know that he has an emotional connection to him. He has every reason to expect that knowledge to be used as a weapon.]
action.
I'm not bonded with her, all right? It was - a momentary lapse in judgment.
[He sighs loudly and pinches the bridge of his nose, futilely. There will be no stopping this headache, just as there is no doubt in his mind as to the criticism behind the words of what he imagines are supposed to sound like reassurance.]
You think I don't know just how much of mistake it was? Believe me, I do.
[Mello pulls his head up again, folds his arms over his chest, sets his jaw in an angle of defiance.]
Don't worry, I won't make the same mistake the next time I'm dead.
[With any luck, he thinks, it will be the sort of death that is permanent. There are no more mistakes to be made in that case.]
action.
Mello is flawed and imperfect. It's unmissable, even glaring. L recognizes that no true good can come of pointing it out or drawing unnecessary attention to it, instead continuing his line of cool reassurance. After all, if Near and L are both present, both willing to work together, how much do they really need Mello?
If he doesn't rush to his own death with the shame he already feels, that would probably make him do it.]
We all have regrets, but if we live our lives with nothing else, we might as well stop trying. I know you've never been one to stop trying.
[Honest praise, certainly deserved, maybe desperately needed at this time. Sleep-deprived and still failing to find acceptable sustenance, exhausted from his own recent death and resurrection, L reflects detachedly on the fact that he is practically talking Mello down from some kind of ledge. If not a suicidal one, then at least one threatening some drastic and jarring change to an already fragile (but functional) status quo.]
action.
[There are a lot of things he could say. "I don't recall saying I had a legitmate problem with what you've done." Or: "You've taken this far too seriously." Or: "I should have waited longer before playing like this." But the first would sound like criticism to Mello's ears, the second truly is criticism, and the third is too close to an apology for it to be believed. Any one of them could tip things in an even worse direction and cause a rift.
[That's something he wants to prevent, not ensure.
[... He might actually have to risk a hit here, let on to the truth a bit. Outright stating the truth is out of the question, too much of a weakness to show. And it would be dismissed as a lie, besides. But a clue may be serviceable. One that could get by L due to a lack of reference point, but Mello can grasp once he's calmed down.
[The only hint of reaction is a slight darkening of his eyes when Mello talks about dying again. He's had quite enough of that shit. He didn't like it when it had happened at home, and he didn't like it when it had happened here.]
It's certainly true that you've always kept playing, even when others wouldn't.
[One could even interpret his final act at home that way, if looked at from a particular angle. But more importantly, there's a subtle reference to the dream in there. Whether the statement can ultimately be ascribed to it or as just a general reference to their lives -- they refer to so many things as games -- can go either way.]
action.
When L speaks of regrets, Mello almost wants to ask him, demand an answer as to why, if the fact that he's always kept trying is valuable, was it not enough for L? Why wasn't he good enough in L's eyes to follow in his footsteps? The words are right there on his tongue, ready to be spoken, held back only by the gate of his tightly clenched teeth.
But Mello doesn't have the opportunity to ask, because what Near says next immediately pulls Mello's attention away from everything else: all the ways he's stretched thin like a piece of taffy; all the unasked questions stopped up in the back of his throat; all the things at which he continues to fail, over and over again, seemingly without end. You've always kept playing, even when others wouldn't. And Mello may be furious and quickly spiraling out of control, but his mind is still a meticulously-kept archive, and he remembers, quite suddenly, the dream that preceded Near's arrival, and he remembers what dream-Near said: Mello-bot is very good. He plays. The others don't.
L is completely forgotten in this moment, as every shred of Mello's attention refocuses on Near. Mello levels a hard, disbelieving stare at him as the shock of impact from the words Near speaks and what Mello almost doesn't dare to believe that they may very well mean settles over him, twisting his expression out of the furious scowl it's been set in since he came out of his bedroom and into one that mixes equal parts incredulity and astonishment. Mello is no longer a twig bent to the point of breaking, but a cat on high alert, every muscle and tendon attuned and ready to pounce.]
What did you say?
action.
Near's reference sounds odd, even misplaced in the current dialogue; L can only guess it's between the two of them, something that only they would know or understand. A part of him clenches and curls tightly in response, bristling at the idea of a secret kept successfully from him, but another part is numb to it. These people are his successors, but they came after he did. Their time is a different one, an inherited one, and it would be nothing short of wrong for him to demand things he has no right to claim.
He's here, but forgotten. Wavering and pale and tired, he's a dying candle to a much larger and brighter flame that builds and consumes. He could fear it or watch it, and he opts to do the latter.]
action.
[He's seen Mello being on the point of breaking here in Hadriel, and he'd been making a conscious effort to step back. What he's doing now is more than stepping back. It's potentially exposing a weakness on the chance that it will nudge Mello away from the edge he's standing upon. Because he's never wanted Mello to break. That's never been who he is in Near's mind.
[Near had expected Mello to catch the reference, though not right away given his elevated emotional state. But the abrupt switch in his demeanour, and the ridiculous question leave no doubt that he has. Inconvenient, to be doing this in front of L, but it may be unavoidable now.
[He takes another drink before responding.] I'm not interested in repeating something you've clearly heard. [His posture may be relaxed as ever, but internally, he's on high alert. If the game changes, he needs to be ready for it. But he's not inclined to give any more than he already has.]
action.
But that ... that was weeks before you showed up, how ... ?
[He lets the question hang, unfinished, because it too is unnecessary. Mello has witnessed many impossible things in the relatively short time he's been here, and time is only a matter of perspective. It shouldn't be possible to share dreams in the first place, yet he has experienced that exact thing. Is it so impossible to believe that the gods' reach may have extended beyond the Door as well as to those who were already under its effect? Mello shakes his head at his own question, mouth pursed. The answer is obvious now, in this light.]
You were there. Is that - ? [No, no phrasing it as a question; he knows this, the same way he knew there was a fake notebook.] That's why you wanted to know about my dreams when you got here. Isn't it?
action.
He expects that Near will explain further, given that both he and Mello seem to be in the dark about something vital at this point. Or is he? It seems like Mello's piecing it together in a way that L lacks the context for.
He's growing annoyed with this "stranger in a strange land" business. In their world, he was dead, but at least he was there long enough to know the ground rules. In Hadriel, his adjustment is proving slow and painful; he sleeps more than he ever has, more than a person should, and takes very long showers. Both experiences approach some semblances of normal, and they ground him; everything else is the worst kind of puzzle, the one that not only resists solving but might be impossible. If a riddle is comprised entirely of non-sequiturs, after all, even the world's greatest mind can't tackle it.
He edges along the wall, treating it like a guide or a lifeline. He doesn't leave immediately, but feels like when he does, he'll be following it's reliable line. Either back to bed, or to drench himself to the point of saturation he was at the time of his death and his arrival here. Somehow, that feels simultaneously unpleasant and right. The latter wins over the former, and so he seeks it out.]
action.
[Especially since Mello is taking steps in the direction of a correct conclusion. Is he still thinking that the dream had been his own and that Near had managed to visit it? Or has he puzzled out that the dream had been Near's and is simply having trouble reconciling the possibility? Near can't be sure just yet.] Why the question? You appear to be doing fine at the moment without any additional input.
[While his primary attention is very much focused on Mello, he does notice L retreating out of the corner of his vision, creeping along the walls as if trying to avoid any notice. Does he feel uncomfortable about being left out of this conversation? Irrelevant? It doesn't matter. Let him feel how he wants, let him slink off if he wants. Near will not attempt to stop him.]
action.
Well, it changes everything.]
I'm ... I'm good? [Not merely good enough - good, full stop.] That's what you think?
[Near may be talking him away from a metaphorical ledge, but Mello still feels like he's being ripped apart inside. L is, unfortunately, more or less forgotten at this point.]
Did you mean that?
[This is a proverbial tipping point; Mello could easily go either way here, over the edge or backwards from it, depending on what Near's answer is. Neither of them is built for honesty, but Mello has already betrayed just how important this answer is - it's plainly written on his face, carried in the pained, awed tone he can't keep his words from taking on.]
action.
He arrives at his truths after many sleepless nights, more often than in the jumbled remnants of the day's thoughts and worries.
Now, it appears that Mello openly cares about what Near thinks of him, which... at least represents personal development. But to L, it still feels sudden and jarring, given that Mello and Near were still young when he was stricken down in the line of duty. He doesn't leave, but leans against the wall to support his tired frame; he, too, is curious to hear what Near is going to say.]
action.
[It's a difficult thing to accept when one comes from a world where such things cannot happen, where the supernatural are nothing but stories. They'd all thought that their own was like that, once. Accepting the notebook and the shinigami as fact had been difficult. Not so much the shinigami, in Near's case. He'd already accepted the reality of the notebook by then, and the idea that a shinigami would exist along with it hadn't been so far-fetched. But it had sounded far-fetched, something so ridiculous that a good liar would not use it as a falsehood. And Mello is a good liar.
[L does not yet have the context for how things like this work. Near had spent time before this being thrown from world to world and has been forced to expand his view of what is possible, what is real.
[And that these particular dreams had reflected truth is unfortunately real. He has too much evidence to suggest otherwise.
[He could take it back. He could dismiss it, dangle this bit of hope in front of Mello's eyes and cruelly snatch it away. Saying it had been a lie would destroy him, a sudden and brutal finishing stroke. A crushing defeat visited upon him. Were this anyone else, Near would have given no second thought to doing such a thing. Even now, some part of him is tempted -- not out of malice, but out of self-protection. But this is Mello. Near had deliberately laid the trail of breadcrumbs for him to eventually follow and now he had.
[Perhaps it's time to let him realize that he's finally gotten something he's failed to see for so many years.] What I said is accurate.
[He downs the rest of the water, perhaps taking a bit longer than strictly necessary. The only visible hint of any defensiveness. This is going to change the game.]
action.
It feels to Mello very much like time stops, his heart stops, his mind stops - he is suspended in time as Near's affirmation rings in his ears: What I said is accurate. Mello is very good. His thoughts seem slow and sticky like molasses, struggling to process his overloaded heart, then pitching forward in fits and flashes, calling up memories from years past - things Near said to him, cast in a different light in this new context. Mello thinks about the photograph he bullied his way into Near's base of operations to retrieve, the inscription from Near on the back - Dear Mello. He'd thought it a taunt at the time, of course, and assumed that Near had only kept the photograph to use as a bargaining chip against him at some future point, but now he remembers a thought he'd had while talking to Sharon, that first time after he'd shot her: People keep photographs of those with significance.
Mello always thought that Near simply didn't feel things. He'd recognized it five years ago when he abdicated his claim to L's title: Unlike me, Near will calmly and unemotionally solve the puzzle. Intellectually, it's not such a difficult conclusion to reach; every child that was taken in at Wammy's House was emotionally broken in some way, a result of trauma. Some may have been better at hiding it than others, but Mello and Near rested on extreme opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to emotions. Mello cared too much, and Near not at all - that's what Mello always believed, anyway.
Maybe he was wrong. No, not maybe - there's no mistaking the fact that Near has just expressed a positive feeling for him. Mello continues to think about things he's observed here - Near's subtle but visible reaction to learning Mello had been killed, mistaken at the time for disapproval, and asking him about chocolate during Sorrow's revival. Mello never once remembers Near expressing any interest at all in sweets, so it must be a new development ...
The answer seems terribly obvious in hindsight, as Mello pushes this piece into place. Who do they both know who might have influenced such a habit? L, of course, was rumored to have a fondness for sweets (less a rumor and more a fact, as Mello discovered in his sole meeting with his mentor before he'd arrived here), but he'd been dead for years and Near hadn't changed his behavior.
No ... it's much more likely that the taste for chocolate was one Near acquired in the aftermath of Mello's death.
Instantly, it becomes quite clear to Mello that he has been very, very stupid for a terribly long time. This realization dries his mouth, numbs his fingers, shortens his breath. He falls back against the wall, eyes wide to the truth, one hand pressed over his mouth. He feels like screaming, or maybe throwing up; he laughs, weakly, muffled underneath his hand.
He needs to leave. Now.]
Unlock the front door.
[He doesn't look at Near as he issues the order. Mello turns and disappears into his bedroom, re-emerging a minute later while pulling his coat on over one arm, then the other.]
action.
He watches uncertainly as the simple sentence gets a very noticeable rise and reaction out of Mello, to the point where he demands that Near deactivate some security measure so he can depart. It's abrupt and he can't imagine how many similar interactions they've had since they both arrived here.
He stays silent, keeps his gaze and attention on Near. As he himself is removed from this situation, it stands to reason that the pale, diminutive creature that inherited his legacy controls the outcome. The question is really what he would prefer for Mello to do, and if Mello will recognize it and defy it just because he knows it's what Near wants.]
action.
[Near would have had quite a bit more difficulty if he had shown up with no ready safe haven, and no prior experience being drawn into other worlds. His first time with the latter had been hard. But that is a story that L will have to learn later.
[There's a subtle tension in his body as he sets the glass down on the counter, the faintest of frowns pulling at his mouth. That Mello has grasped the truth of how Near regards him is more than clear. And the reaction is suitably dramatic, Near supposes, just as his own is far more reserved. But noticeable, if either Mello or L currently have the inclination or focus to pick up on it.
[Near has kept his fondness of Mello hidden for a reason. The competitive environment of Wammy's House turns the children into predators, pouncing on any weakness to improve their position at the expense of a rival. The idea of plainly admitting an emotional tie to Mello had always struck him as the equivalent of exposing his throat to an animal that wished to tear it out. Having made the admission -- if not quite plainly to anyone but the two of them -- makes Near feel exposed and vulnerable. He wants to curl up, needs time to process how he will handle the situation going forward.
[He is, quite frankly, relieved when Mello demands to be let out.] Very well. [His voice at least is still flat, disaffected in contrast to the unfamiliar tautness of his body as he shuffles out of the kitchen to remove the ward on the front door.]
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