My blind optimism to blame

[reddosmod]

APRIL 2022 EVENT

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: A large green butterfly.]
[Image Two: A woman staring in a daze at light orbs floating around her face.]

Prompt Two
[Image One: A volcano with meteors falling down around it.]
[Image Two: A ball of quivering light hovering in the dark with woman standing in front.]

Prompt Three
[Image One: A woman staring at a mirror-like humanoid being staring back at her.]
[Image Two: A woman in a field of grass with humanoid-shaped flower sculptures nearby.]

[NAVIGATION]

Prompt 1 • Prompt 2 • Prompt 3 • Plotting • Newsletter

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

MIGRATION OF MOONLIT BUTTERFLIES

WHEN: April
WHERE: Everywhere outside
CONTENT WARNINGS: Hopelessness/corruption, heavy themes of mental trauma/health, killing of gentle creatures.

---

Excerpt from BEASTS OF DEER COUNTRY Chapter 12: Migrations:

"One of the most beautiful natural phenomena of Deer Country is the migration of the mysterious Moonlit Butterflies. These giant creatures are most often the size of a house, with exceptional wingspans. Fear not: they are not violent creatures. Most will fly well above the city of Trench, leaving trails of glittering orbs of light that fall all throughout the city. However, it is common for some Moonlit Butterflies to land and rest throughout Trench. Despite their massive size, these creatures appear to weigh very little, able to rest harmlessly on homes, lampposts, and the like. Don't be surprised to find some scattered throughout your neighborhood.

They have a gentle aura about them and are most famous for their behemoth wings which glow a radiant green. They are aptly named due to their ability to store immense power from the moon during April and are seen as distant children of Argonaut. Being near them will enchant the air with the scent of amber and fresh linen, and you may hear a soothing song emit from these beasts.

Despite their rare and incredible beauty, it is wise to not linger in their presence no matter how captivating they are...And they are captivating. Many residents of Trench have been known to stop and stare, enthralled by the wings or the orbs of light that are shed by the butterflies. Those who have been staring for too long will have an unnatural glowing green glaze over their eyes, obscuring their pupil and gaze. This is known as the Moonlit Drain.

These butterflies do not gather all of their energy from moonlight...but they gather it from hopeful beings as well. It is why they gather among populations of sentient beings. They soak up all hope in the area and the longer you stand in their presence, the more hopeless you may become. Standing in the presence of a Moonlit Butterfly has driven people to rapid, severe corruption in under ten minutes. It is best to avoid these butterflies no matter how mesmerizing they may be to look at.

The little orbs of light are actual manifestation of everyone's hope. Touching them may restore hope and they can be gathered into jars for future treatments of corruption. They do not "go bad" as they are the essence of emotion. One way to restore hope to a corrupt or beast-ridden soul is to slay one of the Moonlit Butterflies. They are incredibly easy to kill as they are naturally delicate and non-hostile.

Be warned: the one who slays a Moonlit Butterfly will be consumed with instantaneous corruption and possibly even beasthood. But once the butterfly has been slain, anyone in the surrounding area besides the killer will have corruption alleviated. Killing a Moonlit Butterfly has been known to fill people with incredible grief and guilt. Few have survived."

WONDERKIND

WHEN: April
WHERE: Everywhere outside
CONTENT WARNINGS: Possible spoilers per canon, time/vortex style presence, variety of possible monsters.

---

Excerpt from an essay titled "The Wonderkind Pthumerian" from the book The Curious Nature of the Weakest Pthumerian: Argonaut and Misconceptions:

"Most of the other Patron Pthumerians are known for exceptional strength and durability during trying times. It is only Argonaut in which people think of weakness. They believe the Patron to be a fickle, tiny thing with little worth, but there is a unique and powerful quality to Argonaut that should not be overlooked.

This is the phenomenon known as Wonderkind. It has only been known to happen once every few years and only ever during April, but those who have seen it would testify to the hidden strengths of our explorer Patron. There is much to be said about curiosity and resilience, after all. Argonaut has wandered through the lives of many without most ever realizing it. He has likely seen into your own life, curious about the odd Sleepers that show up on the shores of this world.

Wonderkind appears as a meteor shower, but these are no meteors. Balls of flaming light will fall from the sky, silent, beautiful, striking, and somewhat ominous and terrifying. They rain upon Trench in intervals throughout April. They do not crash into the city so much as glide throughout. These balls of light are shimmering orbs that have split open time and space itself into unraveling cocoons, exposing portals into worlds foreign to this one.

These portals cannot be entered for they are not portals out of this world...But portals into this world. Sleepers have claimed to find beloved items and pull them out of these portals. Some may find old pets that come out to greet them. It can be a lucky and cherished event for many. Tragically, these portals do not seem to be able to bring in sentient beings applicable characters, but you may be able to talk briefly to a loved one who isn't yet in this world.

But that's not all that can crawl through these portals...Monsters from other worlds have been known to flock to these portals and make their way through. Monsters from your worlds or other worlds slip in to wreak havoc on the streets of Trench. It is during this time that it is of the utmost importance that our Hunters take up arms and protect the vulnerable. If you recognize the monsters or disasters from your world entering ours, then please, make sure to caution those against it.

The portals close after a few hours and cannot be manually closed by anyone. Nothing can be sent into portals, but one can stand by a portal and guard it for potential dangers. Portals from your world may reappear several times throughout the month, so don't let your guard down for even a moment, and always expect the worst even when hoping for the best."

Quick Facts:

1. Respect the setting. Do not bring in monsters that would be capable of destroying the world/city/etc.

2. Things like unique plants/items can be gained through these portals.

3. You do not need to engage with portals from your own canon. You can invent new worlds, engage with other canons, or alternate universes. It's up to you.

FROM WITHIN AND WITHOUT

WHEN: April
WHERE: Everywhere
CONTENT WARNINGS: Instant beasthood, corruption of soul, draining of soul, replication of soul, mistreatment of sex workers/night walkers.

---

An excerpt from a journal kept by a Night Walker named Charlotte Finch. Finch was known for being one of the first established Night Walkers and was known for her advocacy on the front of Night Walker work and its relationship to beasthood. This journal is kept in the Archives. It contains content pertinent to Beasthood yet, unfortunately, due to ongoing biases against Night Walkers, this journal is kept in the autobiography section rather than the section for beasthood. Good luck finding it.

"the job of the Night Walker is, of course, undervalued by this world. we do our best to soothe the troubled souls of this place and yet they continue to doubt our worth. what must we do to convince them? must we wield blades to show them how we fight? must we shed blood to prove our dedication? must we pick up books to show our intelligence? nei, we not do that. we sleep beside our worn hunters and rest heads upon the chests of scholars and hold the tired hands of architects. we guide the way to light in a way disciples could never.

all us are valuable, it be true, but why must the night walker be left to the wayside? why must our duties be written off? why must it be that it always a night walkers blood in the streets that leaves no tears to be shed? nei, nei, it is hatred of those who understand the soul and body have a close connection.

you know what i believe? these souls of ours change the landscape of our bodies. you cannot have one without the other. when the soul is corrupt, it only be natural that the body corrupts, turning rigid and hideous and monsterous and beastly. aye yes i have seen it myself, though none of the others believe except for other night walkers.

you see, there is a shape that comes to us in the Long Night of april, a shape much like our own. looking like a person ought to look but with no face and no features, like a mirror glimmering in the shape of you. they look like us, and they will mimic us. these odd mirror beings is the shape of our soul, you see, and once it finds you, it will copy you, and you will be driven mad! mad! how does this thing move as you move? how does it replicate what you replicate?

aye, it is your soul, my friend. your soul in a shape you can see. or something like it, may not soul be in your lexicon. it is you, as you are it. it is the Tether between you and beasthood, see what i say. the Tether will begin to soak into you if you let it, if you let it consume you, and it will consume you rapidly. people have been known to be ravaged by the Tether and turn into beasts within seconds, AYE yes, seconds, not minutes, into a vicious beast. the Tether wins.

But you need not let it be a victor, my friend. you see, we proved it, we did, us night walkers, we proved to lay with the Tether is to soothe the Tether. Allow yourself the kindness of another soul, another companion. touch and feel and express companionship. holding the hand of your lover or your friend or your brother or sister will cause the Tethers to weaken before ye very eyes! i do swear it, my friend, i should not lie on a subject i hold so dear.

you see, when we hold one another dear, when we cherish one anothr truly and wholly, we abate the darkness in our souls. listen to your companions, my sweet friends, and let your souls heal, and you can stop the Tether from consuming. you see, you see. surely you see. this is what it looks like. the Tether is always with us, but only in April under this moon can we see it always and will it be vicious and invasive. do not allow it.

do not allow it."

Quick Facts:

1. Tethers will take the exact body shape/size of you and mimic your moves. They may follow you around for several hours/days. Once they decide to "consume" you, it will be quick. It will essentially look like your body is turning metallic and then you become a beast.

While Charlotte states it happens in a matter of seconds, this can happen in several hours/days as well. Depends on the character and their general resolve.

2. People can be pulled back from this through emotional support whether verbally or physically and general acts of kindness. It's the sincerity that matters here. You do not need to be familiar with the person to help them.

3. Everyone can see each other's Tethers so you can determine how severe someone's Tether has become. The more severe the Tether, the more silvery the impacted person will look.

4. Tethers cannot be destroyed with weaponry/attacks. Trying will only hurt the person they are mimicking. You could actually kill someone by trying to "kill" their Tether. The tether will vanish with those who died but reappear once they have reincarnated.

CODING

Comments

[asas]

[ typos are typos, aren’t they? little accidents that shōyō nearly finds odd for someone as calculating with his words as lazarus was. ]

awesome!!
want me to come over instead? you sound kinda tired

[hearthebell]

[For L, they're not just odd; they're actually freakish, a huge and concerning red flag.

But Shoyo isn't supposed to see those; Shoyo is always going to be happier when L lets him see what he wants to, and not the messy and disordered and strangest parts of him that are practically feral.]

it's been along day. Rain check?

Besides Im betweN Residences at present.

[It sounds a little nicer than saying he's homeless, because he refuses to have an address, and is staring at his own blood on the dirty floor of someone else's chilly and abandoned house.

He'd worry if this sounds like he's blowing Shoyo off, but that's a lot of blood. He has other things to worry about, stomach-twisting and horrible things.]

tel me about yuor day?

[asas]

[ shoyo has to look outside for a quick second, just to be sure that his senses haven't picked up the smell of rain or pelting from outside. it hasn't. because there wasn't anything to pick up on besides something going amiss that was slightly over his head to realize.

perhaps, he'd have to jump to see something. ]

it's not raining?

[ or did he mean "some other time"? given the context (which he hadn't all of), shoyo mulls it over. well, damn. the typos keep coming. ]

well i got up at 4 and meditated until 5
had eggs for breakfast
did ninja training (i'm doing ninja training) then i texted you good morning
then i did volleyball practice with the kids
i'm teaching my chicken how to play volleyball with its head but with the one we made and it keeps getting hit in the face
then i had eggs and fish for lunch
then i went to cellar door to work
then i was going back home and all these balls fell on me and it felt like christmas
and i saw pal! he's alive! and he got attacked by my balls
then i had this idea and texted you again
it was good but now i'm kinda worried! you really sound tired
or maybe dizzy
did something happen?

[hearthebell]

[Yes, he thinks, sick and sinking. Something happened and I actually don't know if I'll be OK. I wish I could tell you that... but you'd try to do something about it and you'd be in danger, then.]

the expresssion? it means "i want to but i cant, or cirmcsstances prevent it 'and so another day will have to do", even when it is not actually raining

Palamaeads is alive? how did you find otu/?

(1/2)

[asas]

[ ignorantly bliss, and while disappointed, shoyo still understands. maybe something happened. migraine, top-secret work? one of those. surely, it wasn't the option of being blown off. ]

just making sure!
i hope you feel better
i want to see you as soon as you're free tho ok?

[asas]

and well pal found me! got his glasses knocked off but then i tackled him for good measure
he's not getting away from us any time soon
real deal pal, he couldn't hold me. it's totally him 👍

[hearthebell]

[In these dark and miserable moments, L can't help but take tremendous comfort in Shoyo's ignorance. It's OK, it's acceptable, and it's even a little cute.

The fact that L's minus a hand and in the minutes after an attack by a huge and muscular monster is just an afterthought, really. Off-microphone, he groans and does his best as he types back one-handed]

thaksn, truly

we will wdee each other lots I'm sure

pleaz turst that the feeling is mutual

[His vision is greying and that's bad, he knows it is. He hates that this is over text, however much it allows him a certain measure of anonymity.

Fuck it; Shoyo went for him when he was in the Pale Sanctuary and endlessly dreaming, didn't he? He switches to audio.]

Hey. I'm glad he's OK, but what's this about Palamedes holding you?

[He hopes that he doesn't sound as weak as he feels, minus a hand and a whole lot of blood.]

I hope you're not going steady.

[asas]

[ ecstatic to actually be hearing his voice, shōyō quickly switches to his own end and continues, positively and surely, L can hear how wide his smile is, all through a short laugh. ]

I did have to jump him. Like, literally jump on him. [ he’s a volleyball player! an athlete. when will he not jump on people to celebrate, right? and with assurance: ] And he survived!

[ shortly afterward, after a shuffle that can only be from rubbing his hand close to his neck: ]

—Hi.

[ he sounded quite tired; he won’t pounce on that, not yet, but shōyō is perceptive, even if he’s a simpleton. eventually and shortly, he may notice more past his fluttering belly. ]

[hearthebell]

[He can hear Shoyo's smile. It's like a sun on the other side of the speaker, something warm and shining to lean towards that is worlds away from this cold and blood-drenched, painful place.

And then a lot of things happen all at once, and his response is later in coming, sheepish, hoping that Shoyo is still awake because God, what are his other options?]

Where are you staying? Could I come over and borrow some clothes?

[He's been healed, thoroughly, shamefully, by one who had no reason at all to do it except the held-hostage emotions of L's friend and student. He wants to sink through the floor, but he also wants to see someone who, inexplicably, just seems to think the world of him.

He needs to see a person like that, because even his own omen looks like she would eat him if she didn't find him so disgusting.]

[asas]

[ if anything, shoyo had been ecstatic to receive another message. if it was after nine, then yes, he'd already been sleeping— but he's quick to bounce awake, if that were the case. picanha wouldn't leave it be either, the dirty enabler she was in prodding him in the mass volleyball ocean that was his room. lazarus seems much more rested than before, too, imagining that he's napped during this time and got to sleep off whatever it was that got him. oh, his clothes. wearing his clothes, one person's weakness, to see them all baggy on a significant other . . . shoyo chuckles stupidly and smirks behind the connection of his omen, all while thumping his chest with a fist. agh, his heart. ]

That's an illegal attack. [ a location ping is sent, of a small little few-room home on the far west side of crenshaw. ] I gotta housemate, but he's out jogging 'til later. Should I have . . . Donuts?

[hearthebell]

[L's not currently particularly aware of the exact time, but it's most definitely after nine, possibly even pushing midnight.]

That's good... you're not far away from where I am at all. I can be there soon... probably before he's back, and I don't have to stay long.

[He doesn't think too much about the housemate right now. That's normal, after all; most people who have been here as long as they have have grouped up or paired off. They're not living feral, or transient, or nomadic. He has to remind himself a lot that what is normal for him very rarely matches up with what's normal for others; more now than ever, he has to really think before he speaks, or thinks something through to a disastrous conclusion.

That's gotten him into no small amount of trouble lately. The reminder is written in blood all around him, crusted and soaking into his discarded clothing and the floorboards alike. He swallows, tries to think of the taste of donuts though he has very little appetite currently.]

If you have donuts... I definitely won't say no, but if you don't, please don't go out of your way to obtain them. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you further. I'll see you soon, OK?

[And it's not long after that a wan-looking detective, wearing his arrival robes with his sloppily-stuffed backpack slung over one shoulder, knocks on Shōyō's door. He's done his best to scrub evidence away from the backpack and his skin, but the occasional errant streak of dried blood is obvious and vibrant on someone who just doesn't wear much color on even a typical day. He probably needs a shower just as much as a fresh and clean set of clothes. That'll be a start, until he can replace what's ruined by the blood, get a new blanket, figure out a new place to scout and stay...

He wraps his robes a little tighter around his skinny body, leaning his head against the door frame as he waits for Shōyō to let him in.]

[asas]

[ oh man i need to fix all the balls in my—

and that was the last spoken thing from shōyō’s end of the omni. it was a tragic fate. he’s quickly trying to organize his room, which isn’t exactly disorganized, by default; shōyō’s discipline extends to his day to day organization and tidiness! the surprise bump in the road had been the amount of volleyballs he’s stacked into his room to bring to the orphanage the next day, and that. he wanted to try sleeping in this massive, almost infinite pile the same way that lady from patch adams wanted to swim in spaghetti. now, if he could just grab the fishnets and get the stray ones out of the way (or drag half into the living-room kitchen)—

oh, too late. a knock on his front door and a skip of his heart. he’s right in the middle of finally getting these bad boys into submission, he just needs to tie the ends—! who better to open the door for lazarus than the witty picanha, and . . . a chicken. ]

I’ll be right there!!

[ a ball or two has escaped their mortal imprisonment. the bounce and roll down the living space adjacent to the front door. the crow omen gives a sharp inclination of her head and beak to enter, all while the chick starts after one of the stray balls to show off.

once he’s stepped in, picanha regards the man, and is staring quite intently at his new paint job. is she squinting—? ]

[hearthebell]

[L can't help but wonder sometimes if Shōyō’s full of freudian slips, attempts at flirtation, or else just blithe unawareness to how constant references to his "balls" and "jumping" others might come across. He finds that none of those answers actually pertub him, just that he might mildly prefer some of them to others.

His own soft secret to keep, maybe.

He blinks at the two birds at the door, one he recognizes as Picanha and the other he's never seen. He peers inside at Shōyō’s ongoing struggle, and it's so absurd that it's easy, for a moment, to forget about everything else.]

Do... you need any help...?

[He stands awkwardly with his backpack, not removing his coat; all he's got is his robe, dark enough that the blood stains don't show up. His boots are filthy enough (and also bloody) to merit removal, and his feet don't look much cleaner.

If he's not offered one while he's here, he'll ask to bathe as well, because while the Emperor had healed him, the remnants of sweat and grease and blood still stain him. Additionally, Lycka is nowhere to be seen, which is unusual for him.]

[asas]

I’ve— got it!

[ the strays will have to live as strays (as if they already didn’t have a handful of volleyballs lying around for their convenience. picanha merrs as she hops from the door knob to a piece of furniture and then up some, watching both lazarus, the lack of lycka and the innocent orange chicken trying to show off its (still growing) skills in the art of hitting a volleyball with your head. it fails quite terribly, but it has the spunk and encouragement from its owner to keep trying.

shorty after, shōyō comes dashing to an almost skidding stop into the open living room. the sun has been left jobless tenfold ever since it left the sky, for shōyō is doing more than an excellent job keeping people warm in its place. he’s all wide, excited grins and would’ve jumped lazarus for a hug right that instant if picanha hadn’t caw!ed with certain warning. whether it had been the suspicious stains or the grime . . .

??? to hell with that, shōyō has him be the shoulders anyway. ] Man, [ an embrace it was, with a pat over the other’s shoulder blade and a chance to get a whiff of everything (which isn’t so bad— have you ever returned to a locker room with a team of boys that just finished three sets?). ] Where’ve you been?

[ once he retreats and has his hands on lazarus’ shoulders, he guides him to the kitchen— scooping up the chicken to give it a job well done. always.

(the chicken loves him). ]

[hearthebell]

[L doesn't eat chicken, and feels no personal conflict of any sort seeing one in the capacity of a pet. He may seem hungry or cold or envious, but that's par for the course, isn't it, when one has been lacking certain things?

L envies that chicken, and flinches with those cawss. Had Shoyo jumped him, he wouldn't have complained, but Shoyo might have, like anyone else.

There's an intake of breath from L when Shoyo grabs him by the shoulders, anyway. His dark eyes are wide and he seems simultaneously bemused and embarrassed, even as he leans a little closer into the promise of safety and acceptance.

Not too close. He makes no assumptions, feels no entitlement, still expects to leave here with the bare essentials of what he asked for.]

A... rough... it's just been a rough night.

[That's what he can manage, for an instance and a location.]

Sorry. It's not your problem. I appreciate you letting me come over.

[asas]

[ with one arm scooping a starry eyed chicken and his other hand sliding down to lazarus’ to hold, shōyō begins to forcibly (but still welcoming and gently) guide them further into the little home for few. a strong, firm hand clapping over a thinner one that almost felt shy about being here. picanha goes ignored to his ears, and if the bird could roll her eyes, she would. so excitable, and innocent.

they walk past a kitchen, nearby a massive net of the famous selfie volleyballs, and then shōyō’s room, door open to reveal just a simple bed, a dresser to stick his clothes in and scattered sports balls; on top of the bed is already a neatly folded t-shirt and sweatpants. oikawa’s room was on the other side from where they came, so they didn’t need to worry about that. ]

It doesn’t have to be my problem— but we can still talk about it, if you want? [ not that he wants to pry. it’s more that he wants to give a listening ear. ] You don’t have to answer now. Wanna wash off, first?

[hearthebell]

[It's surreal to be surrounded so suddenly by so much positivity, when L just left one of the darkest and most humiliating moments of his life. What will happen because of that? What will happen with Paul?

His smile is fixed, rigid, and pale, but he keeps it up, bless him. He follows Shoyo, feeling like he's missing a limb with the lack of Lycka following at his right side.]

Something just went very wrong... that I truly needed to go right.

[He lost his hand, he lost his credibility with someone who saw him as a mentor... at least, that's his impression. He owes his life to someone extremely, if bidingly, dangerous.

He'd fall to pieces and oblivion if he wasn't with someone like Shoyo, immediately, right now.]

Is it that obvious I really need to take a shower?

[Sheepish, because in spite of his rather transient and homeless lifestyle, he tries to remain hygienic. He'll take a cold shower rather than no shower, he takes soap from his weekly hotel and stretches it out. The aura of blood and sweat clings apologetically to him tonight, all while Shoyo is happy to see him, with a chicken, and a whole set of very impressive balls.]

Regardless... yeah, you're right, I want to wash off. Thank you.

[asas]

[ hrm, there's— truly, it's hard to keep smiling at something that sounded so bleak. while shoyo's lips wane apologetically, he places his chicken friend on the floor of his bedroom and slips his fingers away from the other to trek to him bed and gather the clothes he's already separated. they might be a little small in terms of height, but in bulk? it should be pretty loose-fitting. back to the doorway, shoyo hands them over and weighs a sympathetic hand over the other's shoulder. yes, it's obvious, but more than that—

whatever it was, he was sorry that it happened— and it's too bad (or for the best?) that he didn't know how heavy a subject it was, or would be for him to ever swallow. ]

It's this way. [ leading him to the frame of your average, deer-esque bathroom: a victorian tub and a copper shower head that runs warm water, a strangely shaped but functional toilet to go with. there's a clean towel, right there! ready for use. there's something about shoyo that seems . . . anxious? in a positive way. as if he wanted to do something, wanted to talk, but was holding back his energy for the right time. ] You can just come in when you're done! I'll get the donuts.

[ shoyo exchanges a gaze that comes with rosy cheeks the more he lingered, and decided eventually to go get the donuts and set up a screening of some sort, blabbering off to picanha in portuguese: something about is there a csi: brasil? he might like that. ]

[hearthebell]

[L accepts the clothes gladly, already feeling a twinge of guilt for bringing Shoyo down at all. That's why this can't work, a critical inner voice intones as thin fingers, five newly-grown with the nails not yet bitten down to match their twins on his other hand, unfold and drape clean clothes that nevertheless smell like agreeable pheromones and stir recent memories.

This can't work because you'll take away his smile every time. You'll make it much harder and then you'll kill it.

He tries to hold his head up a little higher, light his own smile brighter. The effect is overbright and strange, but certainly an attempt has been made.

He doesn't have to know the details. That's the nice thing about Shoyo, isn't it? He doesn't have to know much at all... whatever honesty he deserves, he doesn't think like that, and he doesn't actually know you, and that's why he likes you.]

I won't be too long. Thank you.

[Though it takes longer than he'd expected. L typically only has access to a full bathroom weekly when he splurges on a hotel room, and the comfort and luxury of hot water are especially appreciated to scour away the unbalance that comes from nearly dying. It's almost like being hungover, a kind of queasy emptiness, a sense that his goosefleshed skin doesn't fit quite right over his bones though The Emperor did an impeccable job regrowing his hand.

He sits beneath the running showerhead on the floor of the tub for awhile, as he would if he were hungover. When he finally feels heated through, he pulls on the baggy clothes, pants hanging low on his bony hips. They're sportier than what he would usually wear, but certainly preferable to anything stuffed in a backpack that is sticky and stiff with the blood he lost.

He shifts to Portuguese when he overhears Shoyo's enthused words; though he's decently fluent, it's not his easiest or most natural language, and it's accented, something elsewhere in Europe, though it's tough to place.]

I'm not picky. I owe you for your hospitality on short notice... what do you like to watch?

[asas]

[ it had been a lovely mix of, perhaps, speaking portuguese with him and actually seeing lazarus finally leave the bathroom with a wide creak of the door that makes him bounce up from his sit on his bed, legs crossed and not even failing a bit at lessening the sunshine from his grin. beaming, really, and perhaps a little nervous about something—

but that can come; picanha is perched on the bed’s frame , and in shōyō’s hands is his omni, flipping through a playlist of different series and clips. right by his folded knees is a very special, sweet smelling box of powdered sugars and fruity jam. he makes room for lazarus, of course, patting quickly at the spot next to him and scooting sideways to face the door. ]

Look, you don’t owe me, [ we should watch something that’s good for both of us if it’s a date, right? wait, no. there’s a step that comes before that and oikawa made sure that shōyō understood that part. his chest is fluttering more and more, and more does he begin to stall that part, that question at the back of his mind . . . ] —I’m happy you’re here. I’m happy I even got to see you.

[ his cheeks feel hot as they bring in their deep rusty color to his ears and more. but, to answer the question, shōyō pulls his shoulders up in a half shrug and punches down the stretch of his lips. ]

I watch . . . Games, and anime. But I like most movies, and series, s’long as it’s not horror.

[hearthebell]

[Stepping into this room, in these clothes, makes it strangely easy to pretend that he's someone else, and all that happened tonight might as well not have.

He could just be the nerd going out with the jock. Assuming Shōyō sees it that way too, and though they've never outright discussed what happened (or might have happened) during the night of the party, it's certainly a present element in their relationship, something new to engage with or work around, depending on what they want.

He feels so empty with the furious Lycka gone. It makes him think that he doesn't deserve this niceness... but there's also a part of him that rationalizes he's been punished and humiliated enough for everything. He's lost enough. For what he's offering, he does owe Shōyō; the poor volleyball player just has no idea what L is paying for, any more than he knows his real name.]

Yeah? I'm really happy to be here.

[He bites his tongue on another thank you; he's said it already, it will get old and annoying.

Instead, for the second time ever, he finds himself on a bed with Shōyō, more cautiously attentive with how he places himself. At the very least, the clothes he was given are very easy to move and maneuver in, and he takes a seat, then carefully arranges his legs to imitate Shōyō’s. It's not super natural for him, the same way relaxing at all is not super natural for him, but it's not unpleasant either. The bed smells like a pleasant mixture of the soap in the shower and Shōyō, after all.

Is Shōyō blushing? He tries not to stare, nodding instead and contributing to the decision-making.]

I don't like horror much, either.

[Though he looks like the sort who might have a gruesome fascination with the macabre, he'd rather keep that at work. Which... was really most of what he ever did, to the point where he doesn't actually know what he does like.]

I never really watched TV for fun. Since identities form in our teens... did you ever see an anime or movie then that told you something about who you were?

[He thinks, often, about Shōyō’s blithe gullibility and his trusting good nature. It borders on shallow, the notion that he has him all figured out. He knows that can't be true, that it's arrogant and uncharitable. He likes Shōyō, and there are reasons for it; they can't be that simple, can they?]

[asas]

Hm, [ just a second. more because he was going through his mental library of anime and movies, but in the end— he knows the answer that didn't only tell him something about who he was, it changed his life. ] Karasuno High School vs. [ an unmentioned team to this date in canon, ], 2008 Spring Interhigh Tournament.

[ shoyo was 11 at the time, a bare pre-teen— it wasn't an anime, or a movie. it was a game. that round swirly ball of yellow, blue and white really did become his life, and he's never been the same since. it wasn't just about it being volleyball— there was something far more to it, because shoyo hadn't taken interest before that. he was trying other sports, playing baseball with his friends.

in the meantime, the chicken that shoyo had scooped up earlier takes a peek inside the room, keeps a watchful eye on lazarus, then decides it's alright to walk in to take a spot on his bed. no, not shoyo's bed, his bed. egg has his own little nest bed that looks more like where a dog should be, but he's quite content in making his way across the wooden floorboards and nestling into comfort. he'll leave those two alone! ]

[hearthebell]

[On a night he's failed and would really rather be anyone other than who he is, L is all too grateful to sink into someone else's enthusiasm. It could be anything, probably; bioluminescent algae and the serial numbers of antique cash registers would be equally interesting to him, because it isn't in his own mind, chipping away at him determinedly.

His mind is an easier place to exist when Lycka's around, but she isn't. Instead, there's... a chicken. His eyes follow Egg as he makes his way back to his little house, seeming to roost for the night (or at least the time being.)]

Why don't we watch that then? If you have a way, I'd like to see it... unless you'd rather see something new to you.

[asas]

[ well, he has watched it more than he can count already, so it's nothing obscenely new to him— if anything, it sheds light on shoyo, if that is an interesting topic at hand, but . . . shoyo has an answer already. ]

My new phone has all of them. [ like, all of the games. ever. folding his knees up and scooting into lazarus' side to show him, shoyo scrolls his thumb up to reveal an entire library of watched and unwatched games listed on the omni's screen. the swiping finger curls and returns to a hand that hovers up by his chest and makes the heart skipping move to place it on lazarus' knee. just. right there. a single, flirting pat. ] But I like trying new things, too— just so you know.

[ but if lazarus wanted to see it, shoyo wouldn't disagree at the slightest. ah, and now the question everyone was waiting for: ]

Isn't Lycka coming out? [ he lifts his head and pulls it to the side as if to get a better look at something from a distance, ] Or is she already hiding somewhere?

[ he's seen her around lazarus' wrist, occasionally, all small and cute. surely she wanted to hang out with them, too—? ]

[hearthebell]

[L stiffens initially at the sudden pressing contact, but welcomes and melts into it quickly. He came here feeling completely broken and scattered into pieces, and gradually he's starting to feel man-shaped again, something like a person, something like a person this enthusiastic volleyball player cares for.

It's not good to put something broken back together too quickly. Mistakes can be made and fixations formed, but broken people, scattered people, and drowning people can be very selfish.]

I had a feeling, but... now that I know for sure, I'll remember.

[He's selfish, horribly and hatefully so, as he reaches for Shōyō's hand, gathering it from his knee and twining their fingers. He's never been a careful gambler; it's always been everything, or nothing, and he's learned no recent lessons in spite of coming here broken-scattered-drowned.

He should get better before he attaches himself to a new identity-cause-goal.

He does not, and just like that...

...well, not quite. Shōyō's question has L reluctant to meet his gaze. Like most omens, Lycka is the best of everything inside him.

She's furious; she's abandoned him, which means, obliquely, that he has abandoned himself. She's disappointed and disgusted with every turn the evening has taken.]

I think she's out for the same reason your roommate is out. Unless he's a marathoner... no run would last this long, I'd think, not without another good reason.

[He pushes away the pain and loss and emptiness and replaces it with the warmth and sweetness of Shōyō's lips against his. He's learned something since their first kiss, after all, and the result is both softer and hungrier. It's an effort to erase everything that's happened tonight and fill it up with something he would rather feel, and it's horribly, terribly selfish.

He wants to obliterate anything The Emperor left, and Shōyō has no idea. How could he? L tells nobody, gives nobody the grace of knowing. He just takes and steals and devours like something blind and infant, rooting and burrowing through the darkness for something that can permit him to exist.]