[As they get to know each other this way, as two friends or foes might, there are things that can go unsaid. L slouches and crouches and crawls around plenty, seeing no issue with comporting himself like an ape and shrugging off decorum, but the second he's asked to do it to place himself lower than another? It turns out he has pride, after all, and it's a beast to reckon with. Losing is worse than death, and if the only way to make him kneel was to cut him down, he'd consider that handily winning from beyond the grave.
A nuisance, indeed.
Closer in the dim light, signage does indeed seem to exist, and L drinks in the letters and labels. Whatever he sees here, he will not just remember, he will memorize rapidly.
Transference?
If God was going to kill him, he thinks, he would have done it already. There's a reason he hasn't; there's a reason he has chosen this room. The high stakes have his heart beating faster, his cheeks a little more flushed than their typical ashen pallor. He's enchanted, fully, with what he doesn't know and its endless possibilities. He's taken with what he's being given permission to break, eliminating all those possibilities to just one, pristine and golden.
A pretty truth to stare at until it starts to bore him, and he needs another, prettier, bigger one to quiet the craving.
If he doesn't live to be bored by the secret, it will mean that it killed him, and there's enchantment to that, too. Not many men can boast that their deaths were considered and chosen just for them.
He rolls his hunched shoulders. Several somethings pop loudly in the dark.]
I have a 50% chance of knowing where I'm meant to go, so...
[No, it's not just that. This is a dream. He's a paleblood, and he can know things that would be hidden to others. He murmurs something in his strange but very useful learned language, a focus for his discernment abilities; the sentiment is finding what is hidden, returning it as though it always belonged to him.]
no subject
A nuisance, indeed.
Closer in the dim light, signage does indeed seem to exist, and L drinks in the letters and labels. Whatever he sees here, he will not just remember, he will memorize rapidly.
Transference?
If
Godwas going to kill him, he thinks, he would have done it already. There's a reason he hasn't; there's a reason he has chosen this room. The high stakes have his heart beating faster, his cheeks a little more flushed than their typical ashen pallor. He's enchanted, fully, with what he doesn't know and its endless possibilities. He's taken with what he's being given permission to break, eliminating all those possibilities to just one, pristine and golden.A pretty truth to stare at until it starts to bore him, and he needs another, prettier, bigger one to quiet the craving.
If he doesn't live to be bored by the secret, it will mean that it killed him, and there's enchantment to that, too. Not many men can boast that their deaths were considered and chosen just for them.
He rolls his hunched shoulders. Several somethings pop loudly in the dark.]
I have a 50% chance of knowing where I'm meant to go, so...
[No, it's not just that. This is a dream. He's a paleblood, and he can know things that would be hidden to others. He murmurs something in his strange but very useful learned language, a focus for his discernment abilities; the sentiment is finding what is hidden, returning it as though it always belonged to him.]
Kala nedakana shan, dajenet meskares tisketketvis. Piskalet sheffoles nekahr; vantalet visanthranosk. Dajenet! Piskalet!
[Imaging glows gold around the edges.]
I'm meant to be in Imaging,
[He says, unnecessarily.]