Unpopcorning of L

[ijk-mno.livejournal.com]

Pop!
There is nothing so disorienting as one moment, knowing where you are, and the next, not.

That’s not to say L has an idea where he just was. But wherever it was, he was content there. He may not have had all the answers to his questions, or perhaps he doesn’t just remember them, but it was a comfortable state to be in.

Whereas now, he doesn’t.

It’s not very often that L is completely confused. Whether or not he has all the answers to the problem, he can usually formulate some sort of guess. The universe tends to conform to certain rational standards; if an unseen figure sets tea down at his elbow, it is usually Watari. If a woman is missing and her husband is on the television pleading for her safe return, he is usually responsible. They are simple formulas that, while not always universal, get him comfortably through the day.

There is nothing comfortable, universal, or logical about this. He takes a step, slips, and finds himself sprawled on the floor and coated in what smells like butter. He discerns that he’s surrounded by popcorn.

Ahead of him is a door. In that list of rational standards, there’s another rule. Doors lead somewhere. So L makes his way towards it, gingerly. The slightly scrawny, extremely pale, twenty year old detective (who already has deep dark circles etched underneath his eyes) pokes his head out uncertainly.

“Excuse me?”

[ooc: this L is pre-canon, and will remember nothing of past interactions here. Under new management.]

Comments

[gamerspy.livejournal.com]

So Matt had found a room full of video games. It had been in the middle of the night during aimless wandering; he'd scooped up an armful, taken them back to his room, and promptly fallen asleep. Now he's trying to retrace his steps, because he doesn't have nearly enough first-person shooters. (It is impossible to have enough first-person shooters.)

The prospect of limitless pixellated goodness is distracting enough that he almost doesn't hear the uncertain voice to his side. Luckily...

"Hey." Matt has never met L; he has no idea that this guy - skinny, slouching, around his own age - is the man he'd been trained from childhood to imitate, perhaps even succeed. "What's up?"

[papayagami.livejournal.com]

Soichiro thought nothing could surprise him anymore.

Hogwarts has a way of changing his mind.

"Ryuzaki?"

[woocha.livejournal.com]

Wishbone had done a good job guarding Near's card tower! And he was going back to Ravenclaw to hide his bone to gnaw on later.

But look! A new person!

You look funny!

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

So much to think about... Mostly pleasant, if confusing, but it was still more than a little overwhelming. Thus Near was taking a walk. Not anywhere in particular, not really watching where he's going, until...

Is that B?

But, no. B's still being sorted.

But if that's L... L's dead.

So was Matt. So was Mello. So was Soichiro Yagami... hell, so was B, for that matter.

But he's my age. Maybe even younger.

And if death could be overcome, what was age?

Near approached quietly, and half-bowed. "Hello, L."