savetheearth | [open] Fourth Wall 1

Locke City, NJ

[He keeps seeing them now. Perhaps what look like essentially four-foot tall walking carpets shouldn't be frightening, but they're strange, unnatural, and Nathan wants nothing to do with them -- especially since the first one he'd sighted had given him that uncomfortable feeling again. Every time he sees one in front of him, no matter the distance, he alters his path. None of them has made a move to attack, likely because of his refusal to approach, but he's feeling increasingly like prey.

[And he does not know how to protect himself if something happens.

[Maybe he bumps into you when he suddenly alters his course. Or maybe you catch sight of him when he ducks inside the nearest building for an attempt at a reprieve, staring out a window with large dark eyes, eerily blank of emotion save for the slightest hint of nervousness.]

[Lazarus has learned quickly over the course of this strange day that it's unsafe to wander around unarmed. Though he started out a lot like Near, he having no means or ability to defend himself, necessity has changed that drastically. He grips his ice stave as he moves through the streets, and when a younger, white-haired boy bumps against him unexpectedly, he reacts... then relaxes, when he notes that he hardly seems like a threat.

Something is off-putting about the boy; Lazarus thinks it's because he reminds him of someone from years ago, another chess player with white hair and similar mannerisms. Whatever the reason, he looks like he doesn't have a clue how to handle this situation.]

Moving without purpose or intent is also known as "wandering". It's probably not the best day to engage in it. Some of them are aggressive, and they're faster than they look.

[There's a hardness and a sharpness to Lazarus, and a slight impatience. He's not one of the Numbered who overtly goes out of their way to fight monsters or save people, but largely due to his impression that his Other was invested in helping children. Why else would such an orphanage figure so heavily into his thoughts and memories?]

[He inwardly curses his clumsiness as he straightens. Nathan is indeed the furthest thing from a threat, with his small and unhealthily thin frame, still so childlike despite his actual age. Even after straightening, there's a slump in his shoulders, the carriage of someone who tries to minimize himself, evade conflict.

[The words sting a bit, but he doesn't physically react to them. He'd learned long ago that reacting usually leads to harsher words, and sometimes other things on top of them. Don't protest, don't flinch, don't cry; it just makes things worse.

[When he speaks, his voice is even and calm, almost hollow.] My apologies. I am clearly not thinking properly at the moment. [Stupid. Why is he acting so stupidly? He's smarter than this; he knows that. He'd come out today for a purpose, of course; he never leaves the apartment without a goal in mind. And yet here he is, letting himself get waylaid out of fear, making himself look like an aimless fool.]

[It is all jarringly familiar, and L catches his breath. It seems like a lifetime ago, now, but could it possibly be the same person?

He makes a conscious effort to soften his sharp edges. Maybe if the boy is more at-ease this will be easier in the long run. He has to try, because that hollowness in his voice hits too close to home. L knows it, has in fact relied on it in the past.]

Don't apologize, just... get somewhere safe, off the streets. A certain type of person shouldn't be out here today.

[He realizes, belatedly, that he's gone and made it sound just like Nathan is the type of person who is incapable and weak. Not his intention, but it hasn't been proven false yet, either.]

[The change in demeanour is striking to someone who can read the signs. The intake of breath, the softening tone, the sudden hesitance. It's what gets Nathan to look up at the man properly for the first time, and if there had been doubt about his identity before, it's sure to be gone now. Not many people have the same dark, glassy eyes that they do.

[Recognition lights in Nathan's, and they blink twice. It had been years ago, but the day had been . . . memorable. He isn't quite sure how he feels about this, considering. He frowns, subtly.] Have you and I become so different over the years?

[It's not intended as a jab, though it could be interpreted as one. It relates to the situation at hand, certainly, but there's something deeper to the question.]

[L hadn't dared to hope or dread too hard. How does one talk to someone whose existence set off a chain of events responsible for putting one away in a psychiatric hospital for almost three years?]

Nathan...

[There's no way to communicate everything currently going through his head. It's like a film reel moving too quickly. He abandons the effort, focusing on the present and practical.]

The years change everyone. We... need to find someplace safe, Nathan. We can talk more when we're not in danger.

[He offers a hand. The deep scar on his wrist is hard to miss, as well as the tattooed numbers across his palm.]

[Years do that, it's true. They'd been so similar back then. In unpleasant ways, but it had been an odd sort of comfort to find someone like him. If they've become different, and Lazarus can handle things like this . . . Nathan would like to think of it as good, because it would mean that Lazarus has gotten better since they'd met. But at the same time, for that to make them different . . . It means that Nathan hasn't.

[He eyes the offered hand, notes the scarred wrist, can infer its meaning. His expression softens marginally. Oh. But even he isn't so tactless as to bring that up right now. And then his gaze lingers a moment on the numbers. Well. They certainly do still have something in common, then.

[He does make a move to reach for the hand, but pulls back halfway. The last time they'd touched hands, it had been followed by angry shouting, by violence. But he nods solemnly.] Alright.

[Getting to his original destination hadn't been happening since he'd been trying to evade the creatures. And this suddenly seems so much more important.]

[Lazarus' fingers curl inward after Nathan pulls away following his fledgling attempt to take his hand. He understands, and will not force the issue. He is not nearly so ignorant or cruel as to completely disregard what had happened the last time; even if correlation and causation were very different things, association was powerful, especially when it was as deep-seated as he knew Nathan's was.

Dark grey eyes scan the area, specifically looking for any present threats. As it happens, one of the stalking Vermedi that have been making Nathan so uneasy is starting toward them, moving slowly at first and then barreling more quickly in their direction. He raises his ice stave, the resulting glaze of ice trapping the creature's ankles and feet in a cold, biting prison.]

It will be better if we can get indoors. Not far from here is my boarding school... I bought it and I've been restoring it, and it's the safest place I can think of. Can you follow me for at least a few blocks?

[He knows, logically, that the situation is different. That it should be okay this time. But it should have been okay that time, too, and then everything had exploded. He may be out of that house, away from his father, but a few months gone from that can't erase the damage that his childhood has done.

[To his credit, when the Vermedi rushes them -- why? They haven't done anything -- he only cringes rather than outright retreating. He's schooled himself so hard to push his emotions down that his only reaction to the ice is to stiffen, widen his eyes, and blink. The city had changed so much over the past several months, so many things that should be impossible proving that they are not. This, however, is the first time he's witnessed it first-hand.

[And half a moment later, he's in control again, blanking his expression.] I can. [He doesn't want to be out here anymore.]

[Lazarus notices the way Nathan just braces, as if he knows that he cannot avoid what's coming, but just has to weather it the best he possibly can. He sets his jaw as he freezes the threat in its tracks, and when he sees the the wide, dark eyes set in Nathan's pale face widening further... well, it seems like a great deal will need to be explained to him.

In due time, of course. The moment he has a confirmation that Nathan's able to follow him, he's off at a fast clip. Lazarus is not an unusually tall man at 5'10", but his legs are long and his strides are likewise. He is able to freeze everything in their path, and Nathan has a chance about halfway to their destination to help. A Vermedi is stalking them from behind, and Lazarus' eyes and stave are focused forward.]

[Lazarus may not be unusually tall, but at five feet even, Nathan is unusually short, and he's not particularly athletic. But something that he is? Motivated. He keeps up well, small legs propelling him after Lazarus. And instinctively, his eyes scour the area. They'd been showing up anywhere he went before. He has no reason to believe such a thing has changed.

[He glances over his shoulder. Voice slightly raised, but still even, still controlled:] Behind us.

[Though he's looking out for threats, Lazarus' eyes can't be everywhere at once. Nathan's warning is invaluable, and comes just in the nick of time; he's able to turn, stepping in front of the smaller boy and freezing the advancing Vermedi in place. It howls, but is unable to continue to pursue them.]

Thank you, Nathan.

[Short, simple, undramatic. An acknowledgment that Nathan helped him, without gushing over it. He does noticeably pick up his pace, though, meaning that Nathan's shorter (albeit motivated) legs will have to move even faster to keep up.

It pays off, though; they arrive at the school not long afterward, the sign declaring it "Willow Ridge Boarding Academy." It's a huge building, and impressive in its way, if still slightly decrepit.

He slips through the iron gate and starts up the stairs to the front door, trusting Nathan to follow him.]

[Even simple validation is something he rarely hears and in fact he would have found a more effusive delivery alien and bizarre. If he's to be praised, he thinks he prefers it this way.

[He falls behind just a bit, just for a few seconds, but he catches up again. When he has something to focus upon, Nathan can be very determined. And right now, he's focused upon not losing his survival ticket.

[It's odd how slipping through the gate makes him feel so much safer, though he's not slowing down until Lazarus does. The place vaguely reminds him of the image that had all-but slammed into his mind just over a week prior. Only a cursory resemblance, with the iron gates, large property, more old-fashioned architecture. But it's enough to soothe his nerves.

[The orphanage had been a good place. He's sure.

[Nathan follows up the stairs as expected, saying nothing. He doesn't feel the need to speak at the moment.]

[It's no accident that the school resembles Wammy's House; what L knows of the orphanage is part of what drove him to purchase this particular property. It represents a connection to his other, a sanctuary, a place of betterment and the fulfillment of endless potential. He has a lot of dreams for it, and it gives those dreams a reason to extend beyond a few pessimistic years.

He lets them in; the doors swing aside easily, and the entry hall is large and was once stately. There's a common area he's placed some seats and couches in within view, and he pointedly heads that direction.]

Nathan... it's been years. I confess I have questions...

[Considering their flight from the Vermedi, and Nathan's generally cautious, almost fearful demeanour, he looks remarkably at ease here. Not completely relaxed, but the edge is off. He likes it here, he thinks. It's a reminder of a place where he'd been safe, even valued.

[Nathan is perfectly capable of assessing things quickly, but his scan of the room is slow, taking the time to drink it in more properly. His expression is soft, almost curious.

[It's perhaps a sign of his comfort level that he actually sits on a couch as opposed to one of the chairs.] I suppose you might. Though it's hardly an irregular thing to have not encountered one another for a number of years in a city this size.

[And after what had happened the last time they'd met.]

[Seeing the poor kid without being in a constant state of anxiety is, in itself, pretty calming. L's own anxiety can be bad enough without having to feel it secondhand for someone else. He smiles cautiously, then the expression gains confidence and strength and grows a little broader.

He folds himself up in an armchair across from the young man, tucking his knees against his chest.]

It's a big city, but I had expected to see you, at least, again in a span of...

[what had it been?]

...over 8 years. Were you afraid to find me?

[Association can work just as well for good things as it can for bad, sometimes. Wammy's House. For a name that should sound harsh, it instead brings comfort. It's odd. Almost funny.

[There's no answering smile from him. He's had so little reason to genuinely smile in some time, and it just doesn't come easily. He doesn't want to do his fake one for a pair of reasons. First, he would rather not be that dishonest. Second, that smile is, from much talk he has overheard, very "creepy".

[He notes the odd sitting posture. Lazarus hadn't done that when they'd had their game. Is that something that had developed over the years? Some physical ailment that renders the position more comfortable? Some psychological need to tuck himself away from others?

[There's a brief silence as Nathan considers the question, eyes unblinking. It would be a lie to say that he'd never wondered about Lazarus during all this time. That sameness in them, that connection isn't something easily forgotten, even for those with average memories. Nathan's memory is anything but average.]

For much of it . . . I do not know. More recently, I prefer to avoid places that attract trouble.

[Lazarus had become very public over the last year. Finding him? Easy. Nathan is quite sure he could have popped into Expresso Yourself and seen the man there any number of times. He'd even considered it more than once. But too much happens there. It's not safe.]

[The lack of an answering smile isn't a problem; expression is one of the social norms that L has the most difficulty with, and though he's certainly gotten better, his pale features still tend toward placid and rigid. Besides, though Nathan seems to be relatively at ease with his surroundings... he is an unhappy young man, as he was an unhappy child. No, maybe unhappy isn't the right word... perhaps it has deepened, sadly, to unfeeling.]

Tell me about how it's been. You don't have to go into detail, if you don't want to, but... what have you been doing, and how have you been keeping?

[He asks because he is concerned, and he cares, and he wishes to have insight to the life of someone he thinks could have helped him so much. They could have helped each other, kept each other from sinking when that was taking place, and Lazarus, in particular, had sunk very far, not even very long after their chess game.]

Are things at least better now than they were?

[Being unfeeling is something he's been moving toward. When the world repeatedly tries to hurt you, one sadly natural response is to attempt to make yourself unable to feel the pain. Retreat. Hide. You can't feel bad if you don't feel at all. The problem with that, of course, is that is sacrifices the good.

[But he's not there. Not quite.

[It's an unconscious gesture, his hand reaching up, fingers twisting into his hair. Here, his eyes do cast down a bit.] I'm out of the house. Away from him. We don't associate.

[That's the good part. He doesn't have to worry about that man anymore. It hadn't happened on the terms he had wanted, though.]

Graduated. Should be in college. Circumstances prevented it. [He will not get into how that had fallen apart. He shouldn't even have been in this city anymore. He'd been supposed to go away to school . . .] I'm looking after myself.

[It feels like too much about himself, and he mentions something on his own. An odd, banal non-sequitor, but he is curious.] You sit strangely now.

Edited 2015-01-07 07:22 (UTC)

[It's like looking through a mirror that's also a time machine; L's echoes have changed him so much, turned him into someone harder, tougher, more capable. Near is college-aged now, floundering, having difficulty, perhaps because of his home life, or money? There are a lot of potential guesses that could be partly or completely correct.]

I'm glad that you're free from what scared you most, the first time we met.

[The only time, but to call it that trivializes it, somehow, makes it sound like less than it was. It was more significant than dozens of meetings with someone more ordinary, and L is certain that Nathan would agree with him.]

How are you looking after yourself? Do you have a bed, are you eating regularly?

[He seems to be paying more attention to the fit of Nathan's clothes, looking for visible bones in his wrists and face. But the question for him is a distraction, and a fair one; L will interrogate a person to death if they let him, and he understands that he needs to reign back with Nathan. They've only just reconnected, and to frighten him away so soon would be terrible.]

Yes, it's... I did it once out of necessity, to sit at a particularly short table, and I remembered an old man with a hat and a mustache. Later, I got more back... his name was Watari and he helped my Other, as some kind of handler. Since it triggered an echo, I think that sitting like this was important to him, so... I started doing it more often, too.

Thank you. [Simple, barely inflected, but what inflection is there indicates genuine gratitude.

[The fingers keep twining in his hair. It's a soothing ritual he's had since he'd been very young.] I'm not on the street. I eat fine. [He's certainly very thin; his clothes do hang off of him. Though the latter is partially by design. He doesn't like the feel of fitted clothing. His appearance isn't entirely healthy, but he's not wasted.

[He means to listen intently while Lazarus answers, and he absolutely does -- until the name "Watari" is spoken. He goes hollow, heartbeat thrums in his head. His sudden stiffening will certainly not go unrecognized.

[And when it's over, he's silent for just a moment, turning over the meaning of this.] This place . . . does it remind you of somewhere else? Is that why you chose it?

[That's something they still have in common, the way their speech tends to sound like a flat monotone even when they truly feel a certain way.

He's glad to hear that Nathan isn't on the street, since that was his first concern... even if he's fairly sure the white-haired young man couldn't survive with what he knows of his skill set and survival abilities. He's already planning to ask about Nathan's living situation further, but his mention of Watari gets a very, very noticeable reaction. One that even those placid features and monotonous voice can't conceal from him.]

Yes... actually. It was some kind of orphanage, or boarding school in Winchester, Great Britain. I think my Other learned Russian there, among other things. Do you ask because it sounds familiar to you, as well?

[He doesn't like the feeling of receiving Echoes. That sudden emptiness is frightening, even as brief as it lasts. As time goes on, he might become accustomed to it, but it's only his fourth. It's still uncomfortable.]

Orphanage. Special in some way, so perhaps also a school. Was called Wammy's House. My . . . Other. [He slips fairly easily into the terminology. Clear and concise; just how he prefers to speak.] He grew up there. [A small, thoughtful pause before he feels the need to add:] It was a good place.

[Not that it's difficult to be better than what his home life here has been. It's perhaps a sad commentary on his life that he'd apparently been better off in the one where he'd been orphaned. But it quite neatly explains why Willow Ridge has relaxed him so much.]

Edited 2015-01-09 05:08 (UTC)

[L has become accustomed to it enough in the 35 echoes he's received, to the point where a decently unobtrusive one will not interrupt his day or thought process in the least. But he remembers what those first few were like, the way they made him reel and stagger and fall silent as he stared into someone else's life.]

"Wammy's House?"

[He sounds utterly mystified.]

What a strange name. But it was good? Then...

[Slight, relieved laughter]

...then that's a weight off my shoulders. I had thought... at first, that my Other was one who helped children. I have had my doubts lately, so... it's good to hear that it was in fact the truth.

What else do you know about your Other? I believe... I would be very shocked, Nathan, if it turned out they did not know each other in this past existence.

[He considers asking what has had Lazarus doubting his Other. But does he want to know? It has to be unpleasant. He's had enough unpleasantness for now. Perhaps another time.]

It was safe. And I mattered. [The last statement could have come off as an admission of the vulnerability he's experienced all his life, something he wouldn't have wanted to reveal. But it's already a known fact. Lazarus no doubt understands that and has for a long time. Those who suffer abuse frequently feel that they have no worth.

[His fingers gradually wind their way out of his hair.] I don't know much. I've only had four: three memories, one object -- a child's toy. He grew up in that place, believed to be capable of something great. The letter N in elaborate font on a computer screen. That he was also looked after by an old man called Watari. All indications do support the idea that we should have known one another, but I've no specific recollection of you at this point in time.

[open] Fourth Wall 1

Near (Nate River) - Death Note | Nathan River

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