blankpieces | ic contact (ryslig)

Then concede and give me something.

Since you don't care.

Certainly, if that sort of victory is acceptable to you.

You know it isn't. If you agree to my initial proposal, consider us even.

Are you refusing?

No.

But this is a very basic game.

It would have been when we were human.

But if you want to make it interesting: I'll leave you clues along the way. Some will help, some will hinder. It's up to you to decide which ones to trust.

The helpful clues lead you directly to me.
The harmful clues lead you to your first death.
Confuse them, and you walk in circles until you run out of time.

You have an advantage. It won't be difficult to figure out which once we begin.

Edited 2017-06-07 23:00 (UTC)

You seem excited about this.

I need to get it done.

Alright, then. Go ahead.

User: Mello has sent an image.

obelisk.bmp

You'll find the clue to your next location among the names. It could be all the way at the top, clearly visible at your height, or scattered throughout the millions of letters.

Whether you accept assistance if offered is up to you but remember, 36 hours and you forfeit.

Edited 2017-06-09 23:37 (UTC)

[Near doesn't respond. He turns away from the computer and walks over to the corner of the room. Here sits a box, and inside this box is a small collection of metal cutlery. Some are plain, some are decorative. Most are stolen. He can't seem to help himself. Every so often he'll leave a store and not realize until he's home that he's stashed one of them up his sleeve.

They're his now, and he knows he'll collect more. He likes them. He likes to sit and look at them, at the way the light from the window reflects on them. It has something to do with being a merperson, he's sure. There are worse things he could have to deal with.

Looking through them carefully, he nudges a couple aside with one finger and plucks out a single spoon with an embellished letter "M" at the end of the handle, placing it into his pocket. Then he heads out to the location in the image.

He knows of Dyster and some of the landmarks around it, and he knows of the waterway leading from beneath the shores of Vandare to the lake outside the town, but he's never been to either. It takes him a little while to locate the entrance and even longer to swim the length of the tunnel to reach Lake Minska. His tail is still new and he isn't yet accustomed to swimming long distances. When he pulls himself on shore he has to lay in the grass and pant for a while even after his legs return before he can begin the trek to the obelisk.

There's enough fog that the structure is solid, but the names are many. He squints up at them, reading over each quickly.]

[The obelisk is something that's always rubbed Mello the wrong way; something about having his name etched in stone ticks off a deeply-embedded paranoia, and maybe he's sending N over there so he can feel unnerved, too. It's there: his, L's, Yagami's, N's. His and Light's are the only ones he's been able to confirm, but if what he saw when he scoured through the names one by one was anything more than a joke, there's a possibility that he came across L's true name.]

[Of course, the only thing that could confirm that isn't in their possession and well, sometimes Mello just has to go on instinct.]

[If Near were to come across the name, which is approximately seven feet up from the ground, scribbled diagonally between two others Mello didn't recognize —]

[He might find that the letter "L" is curiously present in place of a full name and between each letter of the last:

L b A a W v L a I n E nw T]

[Vague, maybe. If Near were acutely aware of his surroundings, he might notice two or three humans lingering oddly close to where he stands, making no secret of the fact that their main focus is on him, and him alone.]

[Near of course zeros in on familiar names. He finds Light's easily enough, but that on its own doesn't seem to tell him anything. There's his name, though he makes sure that his eyes don't dwell on the name "Nate River" any longer than the rest of them out of habit. Just in case someone's watching.

As they seem to be. It's difficult to ignore the humans nearby when he's so keen on keeping tabs on his surroundings. When he turns to give them a glance, however, he hears a voice from the direction of the obelisk.]

'I am justice,' he said. 'I am the god placed here to save the weak and create a perfect world.'

[It's Mello's voice, though somewhat distorted, and Near's head jerks back in the direction of the obelisk. There's no sign of the blond nearby, and it wouldn't make any sense for him to make himself so easy to find. His eyes land on Light's name again, as he assumes the man is the subject of the previous statement, but once again there's nothing to see.

Out of the corner of his eye there's a flash of wings and hooves. This accompanied by once again familiar laughter. When he turns and again sees nothing it becomes clear. This place is playing with his mind. He really doesn't appreciate that.

Focus on the names.

It takes longer than it should to pick out the single letter L, but it's inclusion seems odd. "L" shouldn't be the actual name of his mentor, but an alias. Why would it be included here when all others were the birth names of their owners, or so it seemed? Still, that's something to take a closer look at, especially given who's set up this riddle for him. He looks at the names around it, and there's no mistaking that the mess beside it has to be important.

"Lawliet" means nothing to him. Whether or not it's part of L's real name is something to put away for later. "Bavan NW" is a direction, though. Something to work with.

He finally addresses the humans nearby.]

...If you're going to keep staring, you should know that I haven't eaten lately.

[Even as a monster, he doesn't feel very confident threatening any sort of physical violence.]

[The humans seem unaffected by the threat — they've been promised protection and immunity from future harm, after all — and it seems that Mello's word is as good as any when it comes to making outlandish offers. They know that he can't possibly protect them from everything, but the prospect of safe occupancy within Djavulenstad is more than enough incentive for some.]

[No response. They merely circle the obelisk in side-steps and languid strolls; two pair up to head in the direction indicated by the etchings, but that third one? She just keeps staring. Purposely leaning in the opposite direction; etched upon her cloak are the words, Which way you ought to go depends on where you want to get to, in a luminescent glow that seems to ebb and flow with the movement of dark fabric in the breeze. This one is angling for attention, and there's a sardonic lift to her lips as she watches the other two depart.]

If you eat, [she tells him with all casual tone of someone commenting on the weather] you lose time.

[A slow, purposeful shrug.]

The decision is yours.

[With that, she lifts the edge of her cloak in a mock-bow, fingers peeking from the sleeve to flick a single, unused matchbook in Near's general direction. On it, an image and a single name: The Devil's Nest. Those who are aware would know there is no clear entrance or exit, some will claim the city is a fabrication. Most are aware of the incident in Vandare and rumour has it among the remaining locals that the Nest has simply ceased to exist — good riddance — while others mention unruly caravans and an unusually large fire that threatened to take out each building surrounding the old hideout.]

[He wouldn't lose time if he took one of them the same way he would be going - underwater. It wouldn't take long to drown one, he thinks, and he hates the fact that his mind has wandered to thoughts of food when he's been able to stave it off this long. He should have had a little more time to prepare himself, but he hadn't counted on this extra bit of exertion. He should have factored in the possibility.

There are two paths, it seems. Wherever the Devil's Nest is, it's not in northwest Bavan. Two people are headed that way, one isn't. The directions are given on the monument next to the letter L. The woman would seem to be a distraction, in that case.

But this is Mello. In his mind, Near isn't officially L's replacement. He doesn't follow after him and thus shouldn't follow the directions attached to him. The misdirection would then be the appropriate direction, and he can't help but think that his rival is mocking him further by leaving him with what could be seen as the weaker of the three in his hunger.

He bends down to pick up the matchbook from where it's fallen. This might be hard to protect in the water.]

Are you going to tell me or take me? It's faster if I swim.

[On foot he'd never get there in time.]

Hm?

[Beneath the shadow of her hood, the human can be seen tilting her head in mock-confusion as she takes a single step back, then another. The laughter that follows isn't anything less than practiced, as though she's been instructed on exactly how to conduct herself.]

I've already told you. [Gestures to the matchbook as though it holds all of the answers Near may seek.] Do you trust me to carry you, or do you think I'm more likely to draw you farther away?

[In a near sing-song voice; the figure isn't halting in her retreat.]

If you choose to seek this place, know that those matchbooks hold magical elements. Nothing can destroy them save for the strike of a single match. If you discard it, you forfeit your key. If you reach the entrance and strike it, you have until the flame snuffs out to make it into the city, and then —

[Already her words are fading into the bustle as she increases her distance.]

Carry me... [This is muttered under his breath. Something about the idea of a woman carrying him on her back rubs him the wrong way, but he's still about to move and follow after her.

Except he doesn't. He stops, matchbook still in his hand, and just looks at it. I've already told you she said, even though she hadn't said any such thing. Because words weren't needed, it seemed. The matches did all the talking.

He knows where to go now and, unfortunately, he knows how long it's going to take to get there.

That bastard.

Near takes a few more minutes to rest on the shore of the lake before diving back in. It will be a swim of a good few hours to reach the necessary shore. Back the way he'd came and then north along the coast. He doesn't usually have violent thoughts toward people, but right now the idea of punching Mello straight in his smug little jaw is a great motivator. His hunger probably has something to do with it.

He pulls himself up on the shore outside the city finally - breathing heavily, matchbook clutched to his chest in a shaky hand. Once again he has to wait for his fins to revert to feet and he's glad for the time. He's almost disappointed when the shift happens, as that means he has less of an excuse to lay on the ground and recover.

When he's up, staggering toward the entrance, he clumsily pulls a match free and strikes it against the side as he heads in.]

[Or, what will be the city; in its place are various torches, wooden barriers set to block off areas better hidden from curious eyes. If Near's eyes are keen enough, he might notice small piles recently dug and refilled. Not to be disturbed: there's magic at work here, after all.]

[The area surrounding what appears to be a plot is thick with mist and brush; the ocean is close enough to spray its remnants over the rocks, the shore, thicken the air with condensation. Caves and tunnels run below the sand, though no one in the Nest has chanced them yet — gaps and entrances to be considered later — and the illumination of that same cloak can be glimpsed entering and exiting various, small rock entrances. Quicker than the human eye would catch; she fades in and out with the audible rush of waves breaking against rock.]

[The matchbook will illuminate enough; the ocean's spray won't do a thing to snuff it. Not with Mana's power at work, and it's not long after Near strikes it that there's an object being tossed from one of the caves in his direction; one that thunks in heavy bounces downward, slaps into the sand with a whoosh and a thud.]

[A box, nothing more. Wooden, plain. No discernible words etched onto the surface, nothing to suggest it's anything more than what it seems. But the lock? An embarrassingly simple puzzle, simply a matter of dragging a small knob of wood on a thin silver chain through a series of carvings until it reaches the open end.]

[Angrily, Near kneels in the sand and grasps the box in webbed fingers. At this point, a puzzle like this is simply an insult. Insults from Mello are normal, and he wouldn't let it get to him if he wasn't so exhausted, hunger gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

He looks up, hoping to catch a glimpse of his rival even though he knows it's not likely.]

You'd better be getting some amusement out of this.

[All this effort should benefit at least one person, after all.

Shaky hands make it so he can't solve the puzzle as quickly as he'd like, but he still manages to get the chain free with minimum effort. If this is just a drop-off point for the items he's going to be rather annoyed. It's not a game of hide and seek unless he finds the one hidden.]

[If the sudden, rough splash of water that erupts from the ocean behind Near isn't enough to distract him from his displeasure, the contents of the box are enough to exasperate it. Within, a single, small scrap of paper with two words etched into the surface as though scribbled with a rushed hand.]

[Behind you.]

[If N were able to recognize Mello's handwriting, the lettering would be unmistakable.]

Plenty, [Comes a voice from one of the left-most caves, in the stark opposite direction of what would be behind Near where he stands now. It's definitely Mello's, but whether or not it's authentic or a skilled mimic remains to be seen. Again, a choice. One that could very well send Near traversing in circles until he collapses from sheer exhaustion and hunger.]

[Mello might be cruel, but his intentions aren't malicious. Not by his standards, anyway.]

Hold up what you've brought.

[Now, the same voice peeks from the direction of the water's disruption. More forceful, borderline impatient.]

[Near isn't chasing after anything. Not yet. He has little enough energy left that he isn't willing to run off after any voice unless it becomes necessary.

The piece of paper is crumpled up and grasped tightly in one fist while the other slips into one buttoned-up pocket to pull free the spoon. If Mello was hoping for something better then he'll just have to deal. The mer's utensil collection is the best he has right now. He holds it up over his head so that the M on the handle is visible.

He wants to just sit for a while, but he doesn't. He remains standing and tries to quell his anger so that it isn't so visible. He's better than that and by now he should have given his rival more than enough satisfaction.]

[There are loopholes in everything that Mello will seek to exploit, though whether or not this applies to Mana and her borderline idiotic rules remains to be seen. He's paid the price for this city in will and determination alone, and when mouthpieces for the Gods take it into their own hands to make things complicated, Mello will bend them over every chance he gets.]

[It might work. Who knows.]

[His opponent wins by finding him. If he approaches the other, isn't Mello the one who found him? If he approaches from behind, the possibility of Near spotting him first is non-existent, as Mello is already well aware of N's location and by that — ]

[But.]

Why are you complying?

[Because Near is tired, hungry, angry; it's rolling off of him in waves, whether or not he realizes it. Small changes in vitals that paint a picture Mello can see clearly; he won't pretend that the younger's discomfort isn't infinitely satisfying.]

[Still. Mello wants a fight. The city is the end result, but this? Is worth more than any collection of structures. So when the cloaked figure streaks down from the top-most cave, it leaves a trail of soot in its wake — a human wouldn't be able to pull this off quickly enough — hits the sand with little sound, rushes towards the Mer displaying the object. The speed at which it barrels towards Near is swift and light, and Mello fully intends on intervening if things get out of hand. But for now? This is enough.]

[The first response that comes to mind that Near doesn't voice is that Mello is his only equal, and potential friend, in this whole place. L is L, and Near is his successor, not his confidant. He and the blond have never gotten along, but he doesn't hate him (even now in his anger). There was no reason for him not to help Mello out under these circumstances.]

I had nothing better to do.

[He isn't entirely surprised to see the figure running at him but it is frustrating. It was foolish of him to believe his task might have ended upon arriving here. Near grips the spoon tightly and pulls it back down to his chest. Mello should know he's no good in a fight.]

Hah... Now this is bullying.

[What does he expect him to do? He has no weapons and no claws. All he has are the sharp teeth in his mouth and getting close enough to bite his attacker will still take more than he's capable of. The hooded figure is also clearly faster than him so running won't do any good either.

Curling up into a ball, he falls to the ground.]

[Bullshit. There's always something to do when Kira walks free, and whether or not N is focusing on their mutual enemy at all is a mystery. After all, he'd won in their world, hadn't he? By that account, Yagami has ranked lower, is below Near.]

[Boredom is something that's always plagued the lot of them. When Kira becomes boring, what else is left? Something ingrained since childhood flaunted and snatched away, and if their only solution is to challenge each other endlessly to mimic a fleeting satisfaction, Ryslig is in for more than Light Yagami could ever bring to its gates.]

[It brings with it a smug satisfaction, but the others are waiting on his contribution and so this game will be shorter than either of them would prefer. Still, the temptation to come out of hiding when Near gives up is too powerful, and when Mello quietly emerges from behind a nearby rock, the figure that had rushed his opponent merely stands above the curled figure, staring down with a sort of indifference reserved for things that have never had a soul.]

[He stalks towards N with the kind of anger reserved for true enemies — more frustration than anything — and when he halts directly behind the other, the cloaked being remains, though its form seems to be dissipating beneath the fabric. Slowly, but enough to form noticeable dips and wrinkles every few seconds or so.]

It won't be if you learn how to fucking fight.

[They're not human anymore. Intelligence is an additional asset. Physical defense is the primary goal. With that, a quick hand reaches to snatch the object — Mello still hasn't gleaned exactly what it is.]

[He'd lived long enough without fighting before. The fact that he's a monster now shouldn't change that. If he's really as smart as he's supposed to be he'll find a way to get by without having to resort to punching someone in the face.]

Maybe. [He remains on the ground, curled up tight with the spoon held in clenched fingers.] But it is now.

[He raises his head up enough to peer at Mello through his bangs.] I found you. [After all, isn't the blond coming out of hiding the same as him giving up? That either makes Near the victor or neither of them the victor, and as far as he's concerned he's completed his part of the deal.

When the blond reaches his hand close, though, the scent causes something in Near to snap and the black of his eyes spreads to cover them to the edges. He snaps at the limb, meaning to sink sharp teeth into flesh - living or not.]

You didn't find shit - ah!

[And the subsequent string of insults is on the tip of his tongue when the unexpected move takes Mello by complete surprise. He'd expected something of a struggle, but he didn't foresee N trying to take a chunk out of him, and so his reaction is considerably slower than it would be otherwise — Near's teeth are like a thousand, prickling needles that manage to create pain where Mello would have sworn his nerves were dying.]

[It's without thought that he shoves the arrowed cloth between his teeth, digs his newly-freed hand into that pale mess of hair, fingers clenching and yanking with the force of someone trying to remove a sword from stone and if N doesn't fucking let go — ]

Drop it and let go. [Controlled, muttered. Both: his hand and the object; Mello knows that yanking his arm away is a recipe for losing more than he'd been prepared for, and pain isn't new to him. Not after explosions and heart attacks and wings emerging from his back with a force that knocked the breath out of him with its suddenness.]

[Twists harder, and if N doesn't comply, he's taking a knee to the face. Mello will only hold back so much. Teeth clenched tight against the pressure and sting, he won't give this little shit the satisfaction.]

ic contact (ryslig)

<Mello>

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<Mello>

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shows up 5 days late with starbucks and apologies

I may have to counter with asking forgiveness for what I'm about to do

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I had to look up the damn matchbook. lmao

LMAO HOW CAN MELLO BE IN THE CITY WHEN THE QUEST IS TO RAISE THE CITY I GOT THIS WATCH

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I'M SORRY FOR THE DELAY I LEFT TEJAS

I DON'T BLAME YOU, TBH, IT'S HOT AS BALLS HERE

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