Beyond Birthday (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jobshadowing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
prismatica2020-08-28 03:23 pm
jobshadowing) wrote in prismatica2020-08-28 03:23 pm
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Everything about them. There is no logic to them. The quiet before we have no choice but to pay attention. There is all kinds of science, but even advanced human attempts to give anyone a heads up, to communicate, warn the population, their systems have widely failed. There are a great many, perhaps even you, that are afraid. Are there many like that here? I can understand that. But, I am here to help you beyond your concerns. Beyond what you are reading, about what might or might not be a powerful torrent. You out there, reading about this unstoppable inevitability. I find myself sometimes enduring a discomfort once in a while with the truly angry, sometimes bereft sound of Thor's hammer. A true force, a true construct of mother nature bent on what some would consider harm, perhaps a God's attempt at finding fun. If you look closely, you'll find the truth in the eye of a malevolent being turned benevolent in the centre of its all encompassing arms. Torrents of wind and power. The eye of the storm that welcomes you to where the wrath of these Gods are best seen. Gods though? Perhaps to some a Reaper. To you? There isn't any denying that. Death is a possibility in the worst of storms.
However, with common sense and with perseverance against Darwin's theory, at least to me, it means you can survive. You may hide under all your beds, you could do that if you want. Under all your blankets, but really if you're inside you're alright. Despite that a lot of you think you're not safe. Those outside, brave enough to stray from the warmth and comfort of your fears homes for necessities or for others, might I offer that even if it’s not raining or there aren’t clouds overhead, you’re not safe from lightning. There are more than seven hundred thousand people in this place and the statistics based in the USA of which a great many countries enjoy using their statistics. The games of numbers, pleasures for those out there so mathematically inclined.
I digress, but with your furthered education in mind, out of those listed statistics in a lifetime, one in three thousand will be hit by it. I imagine already that means a great amount of you will miss the big it: Lightning. You know, I'm in the favour of full disclosure, mostly after a lightning strike, life isn't a kinder of the two options. Why is it then that a lot of us are out in this? Is it a temptation? Are those full of fear more free? I don't think so. I think that the chances I see everyone taking are comforting. Braving their ultimate ending. I like to see bravery in the face of mortality.
Or maybe for you it's the sound? Why don't you tell me what it is I have to discuss if I am to change your mind about storms. Come then. To me we're all a brother or a sister here, aren't we? Struggling to survive and help a world around us thrive? I've detailed you small tidbits and the tippy top of my information on things that might go bump in the night for you to digest. Please, either ask so I may abate your fears or perhaps we can discuss them in greater length so I may understand your side. Respond as you wish.
((OOC: This is a bold-use-cipher. The key is located at that link. This is Beyond's permission post as well, I promise it's short as hell but very important that you at least read especially if you're going to reply in video. Thank you!))
no subject
And yet, his frazzled ego is soothed by the acknowledgement of Beyond’s recognition. Mello should be noticed, should be remembered, even if it’s not for being the best. It’s for something almost as good - a way in which they are similar.
“It’s not my fault they were bad at their jobs.” Mello shrugs; he knows he was a handful from the start, and yet his mother seemed to manage.
His mother ... that’s a thought he quickly shoves down, because it is not helpful or relevant to the current discussion, which has now shifted to someone else from their former home, a boy named Mail. Mello’s expression pinches in momentary confusion, because he doesn’t remember anyone with that name, then the missing puzzle piece clicks into place: Beyond must be referring to him by his real name, something Mello never learned.
“You mean Matt.” A hard twist settles in his stomach as the memory that pulls to the front of his mind, Matt’s shot-up car on the TV screen as he drove the truck carrying Takada to its final destination. He frowns, drops his gaze to his cup of coffee, gloved fingers wrapped tightly around it. “We still spoke. He’s dead now.”
And it’s my fault. But he can’t afford the luxury of ruminating on his feelings of guilt right now, not in front of Beyond, who is highly likely to feel out this spot of weakness and exploit it to his advantage. Mello snaps off a bite of his chocolate bar, holds it to the roof of his mouth with his tongue to let it melt, washes it down with a mouthful of bitter coffee. Shivers, because despite the fact that he had, in fact, dressed warmly for the excursion, the rain had managed to soak through his clothes anyway.
He’s tired.
“Children grow up, get older,” he remarks, once again looking up to meet the other man’s watchful gaze. “You of all people know that death is inevitable. And that world now is a very different place than the one you left behind.”
no subject
Though the lack of smile was there, he made an amused, huffed noise at Mello saying they were in severe negligence of their jobs there. That was an understatement, and it wasn't any of their faults. "Certainly." He replied easily, smoothly, tilting his head to lay his chin on his knee. He had an inkling that maybe by this age, if he had Mello's age right since he didn't know what age he was now versus how he knew he was going to die young, so was the other one. But it gave him a better idea, a better scope. "Yes, he is." Beyond admitted, "Matt has helped you prove you're really not out to lie to me."
Really he didn't sound disappointed, but he didn't seem thrilled either as he spoke about on the topic of children getting older. "Death is inevitable. No matter what you do or don't do. It was very interesting to watch and know that what I did, sometimes, didn't even contribute quicker or slower to the speed at which death came. I admire them for their sacrifice, but then again a great many are dead for ideals that none should have been because L lost. How disappointing. He sent out perfectly well adjusted successors to die by not having the strength to win."
Ah well. "Do you want something else?" he asked, unfolding his legs and putting his feet back into his shoes. "I'm going to get something, it's why I'm asking, because I'm polite."
no subject
Calling any of the children who grew up in the House well-adjusted is a complete joke.
“You’ve given me no reason to lie to you.” Omissions are different than outright lies, and that’s an important distinction. Mello idly taps one finger against the side of the coffee mug he’s holding; he doesn’t appreciate Matt’s death being used like this.
“He didn’t send me anywhere - I left. It was my decision entirely. Nothing remained for me to learn from that institution, so I didn’t see the point in staying any longer. I gave up my claim to the title and set out on my own to do things my way.”
Again, truth, but not the entire story. Mello gave up his claim to L’s title because L hadn’t chosen him outright to succeed him, which hurt more than Mello liked to admit even to himself, and because he could imagine no circumstances under which sharing the title and working with Near would prove to be satisfying. He has always been fiercely independent, and being under Near’s thumb - he assumes that’s how it would’ve gone - would be too frustrating to tolerate.
“No.” And because he can also be polite, he adds: “Thank you.”
no subject
All of that came to a halt when he said that he had left on his own. Now that was news. They both had quite a lot in common. He was long standing there, quietly regarding Mello and bit softly on his bottom lip, letting it slide from his teeth, hands held in a t-rex stance while he tilted his head to regard him. One of his hands flipped over, finally, after a long, uncomfortable silence. Or it would be if they both weren't power play experts. "You did the right thing." Beyond relates before heading to the counter and making his order, politely. Despite the odd look he gets, the order was placed and he slid his way back into the chair, shoes back off again.
"You and I aren't much different. I suspect we have our differences, but certainly not too different. Who did they pick to succeed him?" he was curious, of course and couldn't give himself any one reason or the other not to ask.
no subject
He only allows himself that momentary faltering. This is what he craves, to be seen and acknowledged, and he still can’t trust it entirely. Beyond could very well be playing him; if they’re as similar as the other man claims, he’s likely to guess at exactly what Mello would want to hear. Beyond is a masterful manipulator, Mello knows this better than almost anyone - certainly better than anyone else here, save Beyond himself.
And yet, a traitorous voice at the back of his mind whispers at Mello, asking what does it matter? Either way, they’re both dead, both failures, both far removed from what they cared about most. Even if Beyond is batting him around like a cat with a mouse, Mello has his attention, and he intends to keep it.
Mello raises the mug to his mouth and swallows a drink of his coffee, schooling his expression back to neutral by the time Beyond returns to the table. He knew this question was coming, sooner or later.
“He was killed before he could choose one of us.” Technically true, though not the entire story. “His murderer took his name. So you can see why I chose to forge my own path - his methods failed. A different approach was required.”