[fic] [31_days] Death Note
may 11 | all other perils and misfortunes of the sea
if i'd written this, it would obviously have had to be aubrey/maturin fic, again. i am working my way through Post Captain, at the moment.
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as suggested by feliciter: L in victorian london. there are probably many anachronisms even in this brief AU. i apologise?
may 12 | his early adventures
L steeples his fingers lightly, deliberate and curious, then pushes them together until he can feels his pulse beating where they meet. Watari sets the tea-tray before him without comment, and L reaches out to place four sugar lumps into the cup; pauses, glances at the crumpled half-read newspaper on the table, and puts another lump in for good measure.
How many weeks since they came to this place? Too long, at any rate, and with too little progress on their first case. L has already given some things away; lost points, one might say, even if the actions are small ones and compromise but little: an advertisement in the Times, or rumours spread in the streets -- for all his dislike of the cramped and clinging press of the city, L has no qualms about using it to suit his purposes, and as he pours himself a cup he imagines a web of invisible threads spreading itself across the city.
Watari looks out of the window. "One of the inspectors is on his way," he says, in the same tone of voice that he uses to gently announce the morning's mail, or pronounce a prone body dead. L lifts the cup, but pauses just before scalding his lips with the hot tea. The bloodlessness is frustrating; the clean floors, unmarked bodies, the blank faces of well-meaning but incompetent Scotland Yard sheep. Somewhere in London, this foggy city of side alleys and dead ends and streets that never recover from the miserable, dogged rain -- in the apartment next door, perhaps, or streets away and far across the river that mirrors the leaden sky -- somewhere, L knows, Kira is laughing at him.
if i'd written this, it would obviously have had to be aubrey/maturin fic, again. i am working my way through Post Captain, at the moment.
---
as suggested by feliciter: L in victorian london. there are probably many anachronisms even in this brief AU. i apologise?
may 12 | his early adventures
L steeples his fingers lightly, deliberate and curious, then pushes them together until he can feels his pulse beating where they meet. Watari sets the tea-tray before him without comment, and L reaches out to place four sugar lumps into the cup; pauses, glances at the crumpled half-read newspaper on the table, and puts another lump in for good measure.
How many weeks since they came to this place? Too long, at any rate, and with too little progress on their first case. L has already given some things away; lost points, one might say, even if the actions are small ones and compromise but little: an advertisement in the Times, or rumours spread in the streets -- for all his dislike of the cramped and clinging press of the city, L has no qualms about using it to suit his purposes, and as he pours himself a cup he imagines a web of invisible threads spreading itself across the city.
Watari looks out of the window. "One of the inspectors is on his way," he says, in the same tone of voice that he uses to gently announce the morning's mail, or pronounce a prone body dead. L lifts the cup, but pauses just before scalding his lips with the hot tea. The bloodlessness is frustrating; the clean floors, unmarked bodies, the blank faces of well-meaning but incompetent Scotland Yard sheep. Somewhere in London, this foggy city of side alleys and dead ends and streets that never recover from the miserable, dogged rain -- in the apartment next door, perhaps, or streets away and far across the river that mirrors the leaden sky -- somewhere, L knows, Kira is laughing at him.