"RYUUZAKI" (L - Death Note) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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damned_institute2012-10-23 10:28 pm
ryuuzaki) wrote in damned_institute2012-10-23 10:28 pm
Night 66: East of the Institute
[From here.]
The wool beret made L's head itch.
If he hadn't been ill, if he hadn't felt that he was reaching certain limits of what he would tolerate in terms of low-level personal physical misery, it would have been a trade-off: he hated hats and he didn't always mind being wet, and under other circumstances, he might not have bothered to cover his head. Sometimes it was good to feel the rain on his face and in his hair.
Being soaked to the bone when he'd already felt like he was coming down with a nasty bug for most of the previous five days wouldn't be pleasant, though, and it would be important to stay warm so that his condition at least remained stable. Even if the illness was caused by something implanted in his stomach, that didn't mean that lowered resistance wouldn’t exacerbate his symptoms. He couldn't afford to allow it to become any worse. This trip to the river was already extremely questionable... not something he would do if he felt that he had any better options. The only reason he had to believe that it might not end in futility or disaster was the fact that Harrington’s first clue had helped the people who were foolish enough to do what it had seemed to suggest. L's anger at feeling cornered into making the cold damp slog would help fuel the rest of the journey... but if he wasn't careful, if he allowed it to grow with every step, it might become a distraction.
There was lightning in the sky--neither consistent, nor sporadic enough to ignore. The rain wasn’t as heavy as it might have been... he would still have preferred to be safe and warm and dry indoors with a pot of coffee. Now that they were breaking away from the Institute, across the field, the ground was muddy, dirtying his stiff Institute-issue boots.
Was Lana regretting the shoes yet? She must be, or else she would be soon. He didn’t see any point in asking her.
The grimness of his determination to reach the river showed on his face, hard and set. As they moved, he tried to remain as aware of their surroundings as he could.
The wool beret made L's head itch.
If he hadn't been ill, if he hadn't felt that he was reaching certain limits of what he would tolerate in terms of low-level personal physical misery, it would have been a trade-off: he hated hats and he didn't always mind being wet, and under other circumstances, he might not have bothered to cover his head. Sometimes it was good to feel the rain on his face and in his hair.
Being soaked to the bone when he'd already felt like he was coming down with a nasty bug for most of the previous five days wouldn't be pleasant, though, and it would be important to stay warm so that his condition at least remained stable. Even if the illness was caused by something implanted in his stomach, that didn't mean that lowered resistance wouldn’t exacerbate his symptoms. He couldn't afford to allow it to become any worse. This trip to the river was already extremely questionable... not something he would do if he felt that he had any better options. The only reason he had to believe that it might not end in futility or disaster was the fact that Harrington’s first clue had helped the people who were foolish enough to do what it had seemed to suggest. L's anger at feeling cornered into making the cold damp slog would help fuel the rest of the journey... but if he wasn't careful, if he allowed it to grow with every step, it might become a distraction.
There was lightning in the sky--neither consistent, nor sporadic enough to ignore. The rain wasn’t as heavy as it might have been... he would still have preferred to be safe and warm and dry indoors with a pot of coffee. Now that they were breaking away from the Institute, across the field, the ground was muddy, dirtying his stiff Institute-issue boots.
Was Lana regretting the shoes yet? She must be, or else she would be soon. He didn’t see any point in asking her.
The grimness of his determination to reach the river showed on his face, hard and set. As they moved, he tried to remain as aware of their surroundings as he could.