[private] here lies one whose name was writ in water

[curtainwizard]

[Have a somewhat scruffy Light, huddled against the door of one of the kitchen cupboards. He's not sure where he is. Or who he is.]

Comments

[refractings]

[Have a less scruffy Light, entering the kitchen and pausing. He recognizes the jacket, but that's the only way he knows who this one is.]

... Light?

[curtainwizard]

[The wide brown eyes that look up are markedly less arrogant, and much more visibly frightened. He draws back a fraction; his hands have knotted into nervous fists, but there's no sign of imminent attack.]

[He doesn't recognise the boy at all.]

[refractings]

[He stays where he is, and speaks calmly. Dammit, Mansion.]

Is everything all right?

[curtainwizard]

Oh, yes. [The lie is still instinct, reflexive, self-defensive. His face falls, and he pauses; up until then, it hadn't occurred to him to wonder if he could talk.]

[His arms draw in front of him, just slightly. There's a battered black book on his lap, where his knees are drawn up in front of him. The whole posture says Don't touch me; don't come near me. His eyes are fixed on the stranger's, unblinking.]