I do not own Death Note. Nor do I own the song used.
"Telling Layla's story spoken
'Bout how all her bones are broken
Hammers fall on all the pieces
Two months in the cover creases
Fully alive
More than most
Ready to smile and love life
Fully alive
Now she knows
How to believe in futures..."
Fully Alive
Riddle didn't sit up. Scream. Or seem scared in any way. The only difference is the vice-like grip she holds L's wrist in, and the peaceful expression she once wore, is now replaced but an emotionless mask. Half a second later, Riddle timidly opens her eyes. Immediately seeing the terrified look in L's. Quickly letting go of the boy's arm, Riddle sits up and bows her head.
"I... uh...a- apologize for di- disturbing you, L- Lorance." Riddle stutters, frightened. So obviously frightened. The girl is practically shaking at this point. And L has no idea what should be done.
"It's... quite alright." L mumbles, looking away. Walking over to his desk, L sits. Uncomfortably aware of the girl across the room. "Who is 'Angel'?"
"Huh?" Riddle asks, startled, a faint trace of worry leaking into her, already, saddened voice.
"You were mumbling about an 'Angel' whilst you were asleep."
"It's... nothing you should... concern yourself about." Riddle stutters. Withholding information again.
"And why shouldn't I? Is this 'Angel' one of the people you might never see again?" L asks, trying to get as much information out of the girl as he can.
"Please, you shouldn't waste your energy on such a topic." She says, facing her hands. Silently scolding herself for letting that statement slip.
"And why not?"
"Because they are unimportant."
"Hm... How so? I don't seem to quite understand how this person is unimportant."
"It is unimportant because, it's not might never, it's never. I will never see him again, and you, Lorance, should not be concerned with these matters." Riddle voices, the slightest bit of anger seeping in. L's never heard such a tone from her before. Even when Gene had pushed her into that broken plate, she had only bowed and walked away. But the mentioning of these people, why does it evoke such strong reactions from her? And, though L would not easily admit it, when Riddle had stated that 'Angel' is male, a sharp pang rang through his chest.
"Is that so?" L asks, turning his chair so that he could face her. The heated look in Riddle's eyes leaves as he does so. Replaced with one of complete and utter fear, before the anger returns. She's finally learning that arguing isn't going to get her killed.
"Yes. And if you don't mind. We have lessons in the morning. Good night." With that, Riddle lays back down and turns to face the wall.
Fully Alive
"All my complaints shrink to nothing
I'm ashamed of all my somethings
She's glad for one day of comfort
Only because she has suffered
Fully alive
More than most
Ready to smile and love life
Fully alive
Now she knows
How to believe in futures..."
Fully Alive
Standing in front of the grand piano, Riddle just stares at the keys. Looking up, the young teenager studies the music sheets she found earlier. Taking a deep breath Riddle places the various papers on the music rack. Then takes a seat on the bench. Concentrating on the notes, Riddle attempts to play the music, completely unaware whether she's doing it right or not.
Sheet music is a new thing with her. Riddle has never seen it before two days ago. And hadn't learned how to read it until last night. With much help from a book Near had found in the library.
The song itself is called 'Diary' and looks like it was hand written. It even has a few scribble marks where the writer messed up. The young teen continues to study the black ink strokes, while her fingers tentatively press the keys below.
But, unbeknownst to the girl, L stands just outside the doors, listening to the soft melody. It has been three weeks since his and Riddle's argument. And she's made a firm point to avoid L as much as possible.
"I don't think I'm doing this right." I sigh as I look through the music.
"I believe it was a good first try." Near says from the floor to my left. Where he sits, solving a puzzle I brought out of the playroom for him.
"You think so? I am not completely convinced." I really wasn't. But, when I look over, Near is giving me a look that practically screams that I was insane for doubting his words.
Though, thinking about it, Near is about five years younger than me. Most would find us a bit odd. Most do find us a bit odd. And I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but, one day I realized that I was always with Near for some reason or other. It doesn't really bother me, and I'm sure Near doesn't mind it either. Though, he doesn't seem to interact with the others very much.
Hearing the door's hinges squeak, I turn to see Mr. Wammy enter. A soft, fatherly, smile on his aging face. "Miss Riddle. Near." He greets.
"Hello, Mr. Wammy." I reply. Near only nods.
"I trust the two of you have been having a good afternoon?" He wants something.
"Mr. Wammy, I do not enjoy your attempts at beating around the bush. If you have something to say, please, just get on with it." I sigh. I can feel both males' eyes on my back, seeing as how I had turned back to the piano. Neither one of them expecting such a response. Clearing his throat, Mr. Wammy prepares to speak again.
"Y- yes, well. We are going to be hosting a dinner party this Friday night and I was hoping you would attend." This makes me turn back to the aging man. Completely confused with what he is asking.
Fully Alive
"Fully alive
More than most
Ready to smile and love life
Fully alive
Now she knows
How to believe in futures
Fully alive
More than most
Ready to smile and love life
Fully alive..."
Fully Alive
"C'mon! You look pretty! Smile a little." Copy, a chocolate haired successor, says. She's one of the few girls here that bother to talk to me, so I count her as a sort of friend, even if Copy is three years older than me.
"I -I don't know. I-is this really an appropriate dress? I just... I...-" I stutter hopelessly, looking at my reflection in Copy's mirror. Trying to look for anything wrong with it.
The guest should be arriving by now. Too late to turn back. Taking a deep breath, I turn to face the older girl, whose been staring at me for the past hour.
"You know, you'd be an awesome model." Copy states as she lowers me into a chair and begins applying make up to my pale face. Noticing the confused look on my face, Copy chuckles. "C'mon Riddle. You can't be that clueless!"
"I am afraid to inform you that I think I truly am. Could you please explain?" I reply. Earning another look from the older girl.
"I swear! Did you grow up under a rock?!" She shouts, grabbing on to my shoulders. I cringe back at her loud voice. "Oh, sorry." She says sheepishly as she pulls away.
"It- it's fine." I stutter. Finishing applying the face paint, Copy practically shoves me towards the door. As she leads me through the halls, I stumble over one of the heels of the shoes I am wearing. Luckily, the older girl catches me before I hit the ground. Though, she does laugh as I righten myself.
"I never took you for the clumsy type, Rid." Copy continues to chuckle.
"'Rid'?" I question as we continue down the stairs. Copy just waves it off.
No One's POV
Entering the dining room, all eyes are trained on Copy and Riddle. The majority of the teenagers gawk at the two while the majority of the adults scrutinize every detail about the two.
Copy, chocolate haired, tan skinned and standing at five feet six inches. She has a thin build and almond shaped brown eyes. Copy wears a navy colored dress that falls to just below the knees, strapless and hugs her curves softly. As well as black ballet flats and a black knitted cardigan. Copy wears slight make up, not liking how darker colors look with her skin color. Mostly consisting of more neutral colors and tones.
Riddle, white-blonde haired with that slight pink tint, pale ivory skinned, and standing at, just about, five feet two inches. A stick thin build with insanely large cerulean eyes. Riddle wears an auburn dress that reaches just above her knees, with thin straps and a puffy cream blouse underneath. The skirt puffs out a bit giving the girl a more childish look, despite the rather matured one in her eyes. She balances on two inch, black high heels. Riddle, unlike Copy, is wearing slightly more colored face paint. She wears a reasonable amount of black eyeliner on both her upper and lower eyelids and some forms of eye shadow, Riddle has next to no idea what Copy really did. And a rather dark shade of red lipstick is all Riddle really knows.
As the two take their seats, Riddle takes note of everyone in attendance. Mostly, the crowd is made up of older couples. There are a eight teenagers, ages ranging from thirteen to nineteen. Riddle also counts six adults, three women three men. Sitting down, Riddle and Copy face each other across the table.
Copy sits in between two men. One has greying hair, pale eyes and deep wrinkles set in his face. The other is younger, much younger, golden blonde hair, dark brown eyes and about seventeen. On Riddle's sides are two girls. To her left, a plump girl with mousey brown hair and tanned skin, she couldn't be over fifteen. On the right, is a redhead with freckles and hazel eyes, slight in build and about Riddle's age.
All the guests are dressed in expensive looking clothing. Obviously trying to flaunt their wealth. And doing a rather swell job at that.
Hearing the sound of clinking glass, everyone turns to face the head of the table, Mr. Wammy. As he stands, everyone waits for him to speak. That wish is soon fulfilled.
"Thank you all for coming this evening. It is a great honor to have you all here in our humble home. Let me introduce the four of my students who are here among us." The four teens stand. "Chloe, our American born designer." Copy smiles a bit and waves. "Manuel, our Latin American engineer." Misme bows his head in greeting. "Lorance, our genius among geniuses." Lorance doesn't do much, just a brief nod of the head. "And, one of our newest residence, Rissa. Our music prodigy." Riddle bows slightly.
As the four sit, Mr. Wammy finishes his speech and the meal is served. Conversations are started again. And Riddle is beyond uncomfortable.
"So, Rissa. You're a musician?" An older woman, Mrs. Kinner who lives not to far from the orphanage, asks. An ill-concealed tone of disgust lacing its way into her voice. Of course, Riddle didn't notice that little fact, but Copy did.
"Yes, Ma'am." Short and sweet. Riddle keeps her gaze on the woman's nose, not wanting to look at her in the eye. Knowing full well what will be in them.
"Well isn't that lovely. But you will never survive off of music, it's a pastime. Not anything more." A short pause. "How old are you, Rissa?" This was said by a Mrs. Wanello. An old, pudgy woman with greying hair and too much make up.
"I'm fourteen, Ma'am." Riddle answers, a bit apprehensively. Only now picking up on the woman's tones.
"Oh! This is a good time for you..." Mrs. Wanello continues on. Riddle not understanding much of what the older woman is prattling on about.
After dinner, everyone moves to the main foyer where the main socializing happens. Groups of adult are huddled together. The teenagers sort of congregate to the couches. Then break off into groups.
The orphans sit near one another. Not paying much mind to the others around them. Copy and Riddle seem to have fallen into there own little world after a few minutes. Creating an almost tangible barrier to keep others out.
Fully Alive
"...Now she knows
How to believe in futures"
Here is the next chapter. I am very sorry for not updating in forever! I just kept getting caught up in deadlines and school and everything.
The song was Fully Alive by Flyleaf. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.