"RYUUZAKI" (L - Death Note) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ryuuzaki) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2012-04-08 02:30 am
ryuuzaki) wrote in damned_institute2012-04-08 02:30 am
Entry tags:
Night 62: Doyleton: Bill's Hardware
[<=]
This kind of travel, disorienting and nauseating, would never feel anything but unnatural to L. It was like being pushed off of a train that had just begun to pull away from the station: the walls and floors seemed to slide away and were replaced with something new when you yourself hadn't taken a step. The discomfort he'd felt all day amplified the feeling. He put a hand out to the frame of the door, to steady himself, then let the hand fall to his side and transferred his flashlight to it.
They'd come from a corridor that was featureless in comparison to the room that had appeared around them, which was crowded with orderly rows of objects, but this new place was quieter, and the change in scents was startling. He rarely noticed the antiseptic smell of the Institute anymore, unless he experienced a contrast to it: ozone or ice or the wet green scent of the Rec Field on a warmer day. Here it was oil and wood.
"Try to keep it down, and use as little light as possible. The last time I was here at night, there was an ongoing problem with the living dead. We don't want to attract their attention.
"Apart from that... Edgar, we need to reset the ring." The look Edgar had given him a few minutes earlier made him think that it would be a bad idea to ask Terra to contribute her blood, so it was a question of whether L would be doing it himself, or whether Edgar would volunteer. Either way, L didn't want to use the brush axe he carried for the job. He'd used it to kill the huge squirrel that had attacked Lunge several nights earlier, and without knowing for sure that the blade had been sterilized since then, he didn't want to use it on his own skin.
This kind of travel, disorienting and nauseating, would never feel anything but unnatural to L. It was like being pushed off of a train that had just begun to pull away from the station: the walls and floors seemed to slide away and were replaced with something new when you yourself hadn't taken a step. The discomfort he'd felt all day amplified the feeling. He put a hand out to the frame of the door, to steady himself, then let the hand fall to his side and transferred his flashlight to it.
They'd come from a corridor that was featureless in comparison to the room that had appeared around them, which was crowded with orderly rows of objects, but this new place was quieter, and the change in scents was startling. He rarely noticed the antiseptic smell of the Institute anymore, unless he experienced a contrast to it: ozone or ice or the wet green scent of the Rec Field on a warmer day. Here it was oil and wood.
"Try to keep it down, and use as little light as possible. The last time I was here at night, there was an ongoing problem with the living dead. We don't want to attract their attention.
"Apart from that... Edgar, we need to reset the ring." The look Edgar had given him a few minutes earlier made him think that it would be a bad idea to ask Terra to contribute her blood, so it was a question of whether L would be doing it himself, or whether Edgar would volunteer. Either way, L didn't want to use the brush axe he carried for the job. He'd used it to kill the huge squirrel that had attacked Lunge several nights earlier, and without knowing for sure that the blade had been sterilized since then, he didn't want to use it on his own skin.