savetheearth | {004} Log: White Day [CLOSED]

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{004} Log: White Day [CLOSED]

Who: Misa Amane + Lazarus, Cesar, Emilia, and Stefan.
What: It's reverse-White Day! A chance to thank those who have helped her out so far.
Where: Various houses in Locke City and Las Vegas
When: March 14
Warnings: None expected

It was a little unorthodox to be giving chocolate instead of receiving it on White Day, but since no one else here seemed to have even heard of the holiday before, Misa figured that she could take some liberties. She really did feel bad for not using Valentine's Day as an opportunity to thank those who had taken her in and helped her out in this strange new city, even though she'd had a pretty decent excuse for laying low during that time. There was a lot that she owed the people here, and if nothing else White Day could function as a delayed Numbered appreciation day this year.

A small package of handmade chocolates in hand, Misa visited the homes of those she felt most indebted to one by one. She had prepared a little box for each of them; nothing fancy, just chocolate fudge squares dusted with cocoa. Maybe store bought would have sufficed, but Misa thought they all deserved a personal touch.

Some addresses were harder to come by than others, but one way or another Misa approached each door with a firm knock, and waited.

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"Sharing the same fate... how odd," Misa mutters, mulling it all over. Lazarus is quite obviously exhausted by all the new information he's received, but Misa's sympathy is limited with what she has echoed back herself. They have to press on regardless.

"He said that in front of her boyfriend? Wow. Your Other really was awkward," she says, eyebrows raised. It does not come as a great surprise that he was rejected. "It still seems like he has a weird fixation on them, between saying he'd watch them kiss and now this. But even if there was a love triangle and he was trying to edge in on their relationship, it seems like there's more to it than that. Besides, that Misa can't have thought he was all bad if she kissed him."

He shrugs helplessly, conveying to the best of his ability that he too finds it extremely strange. It seems like everyone in their Others' lives were completely crazy, them included.

"He did say it in front of her boyfriend," he confirms woodenly. "Either he was awkward or he was doing it to try to get some kind of rise out of him. Given some of the other things I've gotten back, I really wouldn't put it past him, unfortunately. She said that she wanted to be his friend, if that helps?" he offers. "Maybe she actually meant it, but... I can't be sure. That's where my memory of it ends."

"It sounds complicated. Oh, when my hair changed, I remember in that echo that I mentioned something about you being at school with Light... so that makes it even more complicated, huh?"

School buddies turned detective and prime suspect/also detective? Strange, strange relationships.

"Aside from all that, there's..." Misa trails off, busying herself talking a gulp of hot coco. She pulls the blanket a little tighter around herself. "Movie stars being kidnapped by stalkers... I guess it happens."

"School...? L was young, but I don't know about him being a student. It seemed like he had a very impressive career, and he was definitely older than Light by a few years at least..."

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Stalkers... right," he mumbles. "You were detained under the suspicion of being the second Kira. When you said... in my memory when you said that you wouldn't say anything even if you were tortured, L replied that he could attest to that. That would mean he was there... and I got another memory back that confirms it."

L was older? Maybe he was a teacher rather than a student, then. Whatever position he held at the school, it's possible that it was part of the investigation. Getting close to the prime suspect. Misa tries to push the issue from her mind; there's no use making guesses without more information.

Besides, now there's a far more pressing mystery to unravel.

Misa looks at Lazarus with a curiously blank expression, mind not quite connecting the dots. L was a detective. Even if her Other had been a suspect, there's no way that what she felt during that echo was legal. It has to be the work of some psychopathic pervert with a deranged obsession, not the police. Even she doesn't believe that the justice system is that corrupt.

"You're saying... You saw how I was. You're saying that it was the police who did that? And L was there?"

While there is a slight tremor to her voice, no other outward signs of distress express themselves just yet. Misa's tone is disbelieving— she's sure that what she is saying can't be right. The same man she called a pervert and gave a friendly kiss on the cheek tortured her?

"Yeah, I... guess I'm saying that."

He does his absolute best to keep his own voice steady. It's incredibly difficult, and he can't look directly at her.

"L was there, and L wasn't stopping it. Neither were the police. He was asking her questions about what she knew about Kira, and killing."

"He was in charge?"

She isn't sure what else to take from the fact that L was the one asking questions. They are talking about a man who proclaimed 'I am justice' on television; clearly a bold individual who could get away with many things. But torture? And the police went along with it?

Hands trembling, Misa leans down to set her hot chocolate on the ground before she spills it. It doesn't make sense. Maybe she is focusing on the wrong things, but it just doesn't make sense to her.

"Then why did I kiss you?" she asks, voice small. The question is less directed at Lazarus than her past-self. How could she have bickered playfully with the man who did that to her? How could she have forgiven torture over a single compliment? Why work with him?

"I don't know."

It's not an entire truth; Lazarus knows it's highly likely that his other was in charge, calling every shot and making every order that mattered at all. He watches her set down her hot chocolate, resisting the urge to reach for her hands and attempt to still that trembling.

"Your other was, from what I can tell, affectionate. Perhaps she didn't view a kiss on the cheek as particularly meaningful," he offers dully. "Some people hand those out as readily as hugs, and from what I can gather from my own Echo on the subject, she just wanted to be his friend, if... if that."

He's uncertain about the whole situation's authenticity. In so many ways, it looked like three actors playing out a scene in three different plays.

Misa clutches her blanket tighter around her body, wanting to disappear into it. It might make her look like a pouting toddler, but she doesn't care. She'll take her comfort where she can get it.

"I would never want to be friends with someone who tortured me," she says quietly. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere near him."

"Yeah, I... realize that. I feel the same way," Lazarus says quietly, shuddering as he recalls the pale face of the snake-woman who'd forced him to watch as she poured acid in one of Tony's eyes. The idea of being her friend is utterly horrific. The idea of even being civil isn't something he can wrap his mind around.

"I'd try to relate, but everyone who has ever tortured me is dead, as far as I know, so... I can only imagine."

Misa eyes him, curious but suspicious. That's quite the bombshell to drop.

"The way my Other acted doesn't make sense, unless she somehow didn't know he was the one behind it... maybe she was blindfolded the entire time."

The thought makes her shudder, clenching her hands against her arms and ducking her head. How long could a person be kept like that without losing their mind? Misa doesn't even know what all her Other went through, just a moment in her shoes was enough to terrify her but there could be so much more...

"Is... is that everything?"

She wants this to be over.

Just a bit of a bombshell.

"We don't know any of that for sure," he's quick to remind her, not wanting it to be true; he's trying to deceive himself just as much as anyone else even though he has a cold and leaden suspicion sitting in his stomach.

He knows that his other knew a lot about torture. More than any human with a soul should.

"I remember more about... Light Yagami?" The name feels so strange to say out loud. "He frustrated L. He was inconsistent. He seemed guilty one second and innocent the next and that's why they were fighting, that time."

The mention of Light gets her attention immediately. Misa glances back up at Lazarus, hungry for more knowledge. If there's one good thing that has come out of this it's learning more about her mystery man, but there's still so little that she knows. She hasn't even heard his voice yet.

"That explains why L said he wanted Light to be Kira... maybe he couldn't stand the idea of being wrong."

The more she learns of L the less she likes him, and she can't help feeling a flair of irritation at Lazarus defending him in any way. She understands it, the same way she feels compelled to believe the best about the other her, but all evidence is pointing to him being an awful human being.

"What does his voice sound like?"

"There's probably something to that," Lazarus mumbles, finding it depressingly consistent with what he knows of his detective. "He was very used to being right, and a lot of people took his word very much at face value, so... if I had to guess I'd say that he resented Light for making him look wrong and therefore... crazy? He staked his reputation on every case he took, so..."

He trails off, averting his eyes. It wouldn't be a stretch to believe that Lazarus' drive to be as altruistic and helpful as possible has manifested to counterbalance the guilt he feels for his actions in another life. He reaches down for the hot cocoa again, offering it to Misa, wondering if her hands are steady enough to hold it again.

"Careful and precise," he answers after some thought. "He didn't speak like one who didn't think first, even when he was angry. I think L hated that, but I think he also admired it. It felt complicated. Tangled up."

Misa lets go of the blanket around her shoulders to accept the hot chocolate, listening to his description with rapt attention. "He seemed that way... all put together."

She takes a sip from the mug, calming herself with thoughts of all the new memories she has of Light. More than just a face and a name now. Athletic, judging by that punch, though also a little hot headed. But she completely understands wanting to punch L, with the way be behaved in her echoes. It certainly doesn't prove any guilt on Light's part.

"I guess it makes sense for a movie star to be dating someone like that. She probably needed someone grounded in her life."

Edited 2015-04-14 22:16 (UTC)

The change in Misa isn't shockingly abrupt or intense, but it's a noticeable difference. She's hanging onto his words now in a way that women seldom do when Lazarus speaks, and he's aware and increasingly uncertain as he proceeds.

"All put together," he confirms, with a sinking feeling. How inconvenient for his detective, if the quarry was, in fact, well-organized. It's obvious from the memories which of them presented better; what, outside of L's reputation, made men obey his orders?

"If he was a suspect in an investigation like this one, perhaps not so grounded..." he says hesitantly. "I don't think that L was a terribly good man, but... he was blazingly intelligent, and I think that if he suspected Light he had a reason. If he didn't... well. I'm echoing back someone who's just as crazy as I am if not more so."

"You're not crazy," Misa murmurs. "Even really smart people are wrong sometimes. Maybe there's evidence we haven't seen yet, and you don't have to agree, but based in what we know... I believe in Light over L."

Of course she would be bias in favor of the man who has been in the back of her mind for more than a decade over the man who may have tortured her, but L just doesn't seem trustworthy. Maybe he is a genius detective, but that doesn't mean he can't be wrong, and after today Misa is inclined to question his humanity.

But not Lazarus's. It's not fair to project this onto him; if he really is echoing back into a monster, that has to be hard on him too. Misa feels suddenly determined to make sure he doesn't take her rejection of L as a rejection of himself.

"Come here," she says simply, patting a spot on the bed next to her again. No excuse of not noticing this time.

He looks like he doesn't even begin to believe that she doesn't think he's crazy, but he is too worn out today to argue the point with any kind of determination or effectiveness. He could always pull out the old I spent two whole years of my life in White Pines Psychiatric Hospital, but he doesn't think it would be particularly satisfying.

"Maybe you're right about the evidence, or... about Light," he allows, wanting to believe it despite the memories and feelings of a cold but brilliant detective existing in his mind and body.

He seems more than a little taken aback at her invitation to join her on the bed, but it's an invitation to peace. It must be, and he'd be an idiot to reject it given the current tone of their conversation. What would it say, I don't believe you and would rather not be near you right now?

He straightens and tucks a let under him as he lowers himself onto the twin-sized mattress, letting the other one dangle off the edge. Not knowing what to say after accepting the invitation, he opts to remain silent.

Misa closes her eyes and leans her head against his shoulder. Lazarus is not comfortable. He feels every bit as bony and unsubstantial as he looks, there is none of the solidity or comfort that she had hoped the gesture would bring. She fidgets, trying to find a better angle or some secret to making this feel nicer, but eventually gives up.

The facsimile of human contact is still better than nothing.

"The hair is kind of fun."

He stiffens further at the sudden weight of her blonde head on his bony, bony shoulder, but if he wants to withdraw, he doesn't say anything, just glances aside at her attempting to draw comfort from him like a sponge working a dry, cracked riverbed.

"The hair?"

He raises a hand to touch it, but not in a tender, gentle or even flirtatious way. He's peering at the roots, meticulously running his fingertips along her scalp as if looking for lice.

"This can't be natural. You'll probably have to keep bleaching it as it grows in."

Well that's... weird. Misa opens her eyes to glance up at him as he inspects her hair, unsure of exactly what he's doing. The touching isn't unwelcome, per se, it's just odd.

"I guess so... I could always dye it back. I wonder if it would echo back to blonde a second time." She picks up a lock of hair to look at the ends, curious now. "Does it look damaged?"

Odd is par for the course with Lazarus; if Misa hasn't already figured this out, she will in very short order as she spends more time with the man. He genuinely seems to mean well most of the time, but there's no denying that he can be extremely, frustratingly clueless about some social matters.

"No... it actually looks extremely well-conditioned," he comments, fingertips traveling down to examine the ends. "Your other must have cared very much about it looking really natural. Did if feel strange for it to all grow in at once?"

The way he touches her scalp and her hair is strange and Misa honestly can't decide how she feels about it. This is what she wanted, isn't it? Reassuring touches? She isn't exactly sure if that's what this is, but it's... close, maybe?

Since when does Lazarus know so much about haircare, anyway? Misa glances dubiously at the rat's next atop his head.

"I'm not sure, I didn't really feel it," she says, struggling to describe the experience. "Or if I did, I was too distracted by the other part of the echo to notice."

A touch with permission is a good one, a touch without it is a bad one. Lazarus' understanding of the nuances and differences seems to end there.

"It would hurt, I'd almost think..." he comments. "For the follicle to generate so much at once, but... echoes don't follow those kinds of rules. People grow bigger or smaller without pain. So many physical things happen that don't occur as logic really dictates they should. I instantly put on muscle once... didn't feel a thing, just noticed I was moving differently."

"Really?"

She doesn't mean to sound quite so shocked, but... Misa has a pretty good view of his chest from here, and she never would have guessed that there was anything but skin and bone on his body, let alone muscle. She touches her fingers to chest, as if to test this assertion that his muscles exist.

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