penancememes | TEST DRIVE MEME #38

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TEST DRIVE MEME #38

Arrival

"Judgement has come upon you. God has deemed you worthy of Hell. But don't worry, it can still be undone," comes a soothing voice that echoes all around you. The voice promises comfort, hope even.

It may seem like a nightmare at first, despite all of that. Full of hellfire nipping at your skin and a sensation of being pulled down no matter how much you struggle or cry for help. Wretched, unseen hands pull at you, grip tight at your body, tighten on your throat, skeletal fingers grab at your face, slide in your mouth and jab at your eyes as they struggle for purchase. It feels like for a moment, they may snap your neck as they tug and pull. The more you resist, the more phantom hands are added to your struggling body.

It feels like they could tear you apart if you let them. The only thing to do is to let go and stop fighting.

And so you do.

Darkness and nothingness consumes you for a second, And it seems to linger for a long time. There is nothing at all. It must be lonely. But it won’t be forever.

Initially, everyone opens their eyes to a long, dark corridor made of stone. They find themselves in what appears to be a long queue with other sinners, palm bloody.

Characters find their bodies feel heavy and stiff, bruised with odd hand prints here and there that they received during their journey down below. A massive headache throbs behind their temples. They are urged forward to take a numbered ticket and wait their turn in the long line. As they're ushered forward through the corridor, their first stop will be to see Lilith, standing outside her office.

The woman in a smart suit and a friendly smile steps forward to greet sinners one by one. "I'm sorry for your rough landing. We've never gotten it quite as smooth as it was in the past. Please, let me see your hand--"

Once she has the sinner's hand, there's the warm, almost electric touch of magic that soothes away the aches and pains, heals the wound left behind on each sinner's palm. Lilith looks satisfied with her work and gives a nod. "There, all better. Please take your care package and continue on until you reach the stairs."

On their way out, sinners receive their 'package', a contract detailing all sins committed. If they look at the list closely enough they'll notice it's written with their blood. That explains the palm wound then. It's an old piece of parchment despite the freshly written letters upon it. They will also receive a slightly more modern smart phone. Think early generation Android and a pamphlet made by other sinners during their stay here with useful tips.

After that, sinners will be ushered on to a set of stairs where a guard waits. "Welcome to Penance," the demon says gruffly before motioning them on without an ounce of courtesy. "Don't hold up the line."

They seem to go on and wind forever, but eventually, they come upon what appears to be a lobby of a hotel. Once there, they will notice several shops and other areas around the front desk.

The demon at the front desk looks rather bored, but when sinners approach? He seems to snap to attention to offer whatever help they might need of him. He will at least direct to food or rooms to rest their wary bodies, or recommend sights to see around the hotel.

Stand Your Ground

Curiously, every television within Hell seems to be covered with a sheet and wrapped in chains. If one listens closely at night, they'll hear murmuring coming from them. If any curious newcomer should try to remove the coverings, they will find them magically enchanted in some way that makes this impossible, however. If asked, the staff will explain that they're undergoing a cleansing to remove a curse placed upon them by evildoers. If pressed further, they'll hear talks of The Veiled Order.

But not to worry! There's plenty to do. Helluvacup needs to be rebuilt so the coffee demon and his prized hell rat on a harness and leash quit wandering the halls... the staff is rather tired of being bitten! Additionally, it feels like reality is shifting more often to showing what the pristine hotel may actually look like. It hasn't been that long since the buildings were flooded by lava and utterly destroyed. The beautiful interiors were too good to be true, and the veneer is cracking more severely now. At times, the illusion drops to the burnt out husk of a building, to rotting wood and torn, old furniture. Sometimes it's jarring enough to leave one dizzy before it simply flashes back to normal. Unfortunately, whenever these glitches occur, it is entirely possible to find one's self in an entirely different room than they meant. Wanted to grab a midnight snack? Have fun in that blood room. Wanted to take an innocent pee, minding your own business? You may accidentally walk into someone's room.

In which case, it is probably very advisable to not relieve yourself and find a more suitable area. What could possibly go wrong?

At least there does seem to be a break in the heat? Hell is an almost comfortable temperature, but there are already talks of the dreaded Fall coming soon. In Hell, Fall tends to feel more like the dead of winter, bt hopefully, there will be a skip to the usual snow and frigid temperatures.

.

Reach Up High

Prompt I:

WARNINGS: drills, torture, blood, lobotomy

Part of redemption is suffering, Darlings. That’s why sinners are drawn here. They will hurt, but they will also learn to become better people. One way or another.

The demons who bring sinners here have tied them quite firmly into a contraption that forces them to recline back with their heads trapped in a vice. If they look up, they’ll be able to see the whirring flash of metal from an active drill poised just overhead. They can squirm if they’d like, but it might be unsettling for the person bound behind them. Before they can vocalize any questions, they’ll hear the sound of Lucifer’s warm, soothing voice.

"My dear guests, I’ve done a lot of thinking about what I can do to bring you closer together. Father often says that humans should love their fellow man. Maybe you just need some help building trust. I assure you that you’re both perfectly safe. If you stay still and chat, the drills will cause a little scratch, but nothing you can’t live through. Talk about your sins. Talk about your day. It’ll just take a few minutes before you can leave. Be nice, and whatever you do, don’t move a muscle."

It’s at this point that sinners might notice that although they are rendered immobile from the waist up, their legs are free. They can push back their chairs and avoid the drills which are suddenly moving forward. But since they’re bound to someone else, pushing back will send their partner forward into their drill and surely condemn them to a messy death. If neither sinner moves, they can both survive. The drills will move close enough to tear the skin at their foreheads and perhaps scratch the skull underneath, creating a mild concussion at worst. But if the sinners were unable to make peace and stop themselves from moving, the drill is quite capable of pushing past bone and into the soft flesh of the frontal lobe. You can technically live with the kind of brain damage caused by an injury there, but do you really want to do that to your new close friend?

You have three minutes to figure it out.

Prompt II

For those fortunate enough to escape the unplanned lobotomy, well, there's an easy task for you! As previously mentioned, Helluvacup and the hotel's own pool both need to be tidied up, or rebuilt in some cases. Any sinners who volunteer will be treated to free drinks and snacks, and receive appreciation from demonic staff. Plus, chipping in and helping your fellow sinners (and demons) is something God often encourages! It will be good for one sin removal overall. There will be building supplies, cleaning supplies, and anything else sinners need to push forward!

The staff also won't be put out if sinners would rather do a little bit of cleaning instead...

Besides, it's a rare opportunity to help import supplies to Hell. There are large crates of unnamed items, new furniture items, torture items, clothes, and more. There's also several boxes of nothing but pumpkin spice that veteran sinners, who know what every fall entails, may cringe at the sight of.

Follow Me Down

Prompt I

WARNINGS: fire, disobedience

Speaking of pumpkin spice and torture devices... Well, sinners may find the prime opportunity for a bit of a bonfire if they're so inclined. It seems some demons are not looking forward to the months of pumpkin spice flavored foods or, well, working, really. These are young, reckless demons, but they've decided to help some of these new shipments get 'lost' by starting a large bonfire in a secluded place in Penance proper. They'll be asking sinners to help out. They'll supply the booze as they watch everything burn later!

If questioned about it, the demons will insist that it's just another part of the importing project. Everyone's trying to tell you to grab the crates and haul them somewhere, right? Into the fire is somewhere. Of course it's fine! You get points for being good little boys and girls every time you shut up and do what you're told. Why would anyone lie about that?

Perhaps it will come as a surprise, then, that anyone who participates will receive one sin added to their contract in the form of arson.

Prompt II

WARNINGS: sex, aphrodisiacs, non-con, etc.

Club Penance has new shots for all to try! Eager incubi and succubi stand around with trays of them, eager to pass them off under the strobe lights and pounding music. The air is sweeter than even usual, the demons amping up the aphrodisiacs to ensure everybody has a good time, and there's plenty encouragement to get lost in the atmosphere. These shots all have a unique influence, although that part may have been left out... Oops.

Apple: Causes one to fall lust with the first person they see. They will absolutely be overwhelmed with the desire to have them and do whatever they must to receive their affections.
Cinnamon: Causes one to fall into love with the first person they see. Their heart will skip beats, they'll feel the urge to recite poetry, anything! Your love must be known.
Pumpkin: Causes one to fall out of balance. Just the perfect meet-cute, isn't it? Hopefully you won't fall into anyone in a bad mood.
Sour Apple: Causes one to fall into a rage. Ah, oops. Maybe they didn't think that one out. This one causes aggression and the need to make certain others know you're the top dog around here.

Wildcard/Misc.

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The brain itself doesn’t contain any nerve ending that can detect pain. C.C had told him once, when he’d curiously asked what it’s like to be shot in the head, that the pain comes the sudden compression of the skull. When the brain itself is destroyed, one’s senses vanish. She’d told him that it’s the most peaceful of the violent ends.

He thought he’d be able to brave through the experience, slam his head into the drill and get it over with, but it’s not quick, not at all, and he lets out a garbled wail as he’s skewered on the drills above his eyes.

It’d be just two holes, he’d thought, just two smooth metal bores spinning in healing bone once the most unpleasant part, the two drillheads pushed through. But it’s not, it’s in him too close for him to find any sense of detachment and he’s losing himself. There’s blood in his eyes and he can’t see - can he see? He can’t think, he can’t hear but it’s all coming back again as his matter knits itself back again and nothing is pushing in far enough to cut out the animal terror in the back of the brain his higher consciousness is too torn to tattered to control.

He thrashes his legs uselessly, heel horns clattering sharply on the floor, instinctively trying to back him away when there’s no way to move.

And the noises coming out of him don’t stop, don’t fade, until the demon finally pushes a lever to reverse the drills. They pull from his head with a squelch and he slumps, legs finally stopping in their clatters. The only noise now is deep, exhausted panting

He’s a mess: blood and chunked matter ooze from wounds already healing over; his chin coated in blood from bitten lips and fear-spittle; body slicked in fear-stinking sweat; wetness pooling from the chair under him where his bladder released.

As Suzaku is pushed away, far from the danger and the drills collide with L.L's head the geass fades. Suzaku's world returns to the sound of L.L's screams. He can't see, still chained facing away but he can hear and he has seen enough violent, terrible death that his mind can more than fill in the blanks.

He pulls at the chains, not strong enough to break them, he yells curses at the demon who ignores him completely. The room smells of blood and fear and L.L's screams fill the dark corners of his mind. Joining the echoes of all the screams that haunted him.

The drill moved backwards, back to where it began before the pieces stopped, whirring into silence and stillness. The chains released and Suzaku stumbled out of his chair, he knows he's far too late, but he can't not...

He reaches L.L's side, the bloody mess of him. It takes everything in him to not throw up, instead he falls to his knees, not caring for the mess now soaking into his clothing.

He says nothing, just reaches out, sure that L.L can not even feel him.

He twitches at the touch - and then his hand shoots out and grabs Suzaku’s wrist. Warm. Sturdy. Heartbeat pattering under skin. He trusts this limb.

He squeezes, his mouth parting, working, struggling but not quite able to form words yet.

’I’m here.’

‘Help me.’

‘Get me out.’

‘I’m sorry’

“Suz-“ It’s all coming back in pieces as flesh knits together.

“Water. Shower.”

Knowing that he is immortal is very different to witnessing it. He had reached out in a foolish attempt at comforting him, giving him kindness in his final moment and he was not expecting his wrist to be grabbed.

He jumps, makes an undignified noise, his eyes widening.

Of course... His other hand comes to support him, not caring for the blood and gore.

"Yes, my lord." It's a whisper, L.L can tell him off for formality later. Right now he has to be a knight, it's the only way he can do this.

He scoops L.L up, holding him ever so gently even as he continues to heal.

"Let us go." That to the demon, who just rolls his eyes and obeys. He carries him, up to his room.

By the time Suzaku reaches his door he’s recovered - physically. The pain has gone, his functions are in full control, the adrenaline fear has vanished, not to leave a drained aftermath but to leave bland neutrality behind.

But he doesn’t want to let go, not yet. Once upon a time it would have been C.C cradling him in the secret moments when the consequences of all his cunning plans overwhelmed him. He’s shaken.

But he wriggles his legs to get down and fishes his keys from his pocket, still leaning in close to Suzaku. He’s tucking his face away from the other man - his pride demands he not make eye contact and reveal the worst if his weakness.

None of his roommates are in the common area. It’s a relief - he never wants to be seen by anyone in this state. He heads for the communal shower.

“I…” Thank you? I’m sorry? Don’t follow me? Don’t leave me alone? “Bring me some clothes from my bedroom. Please. Just a simple set.” Suzaku should be able to find him at least a t-shirt and some bottoms in his neatly folded drawers. And because he knows he’s smeared all sorts of fluids on the other man -

“The guest clothes are in the bottom drawer. Come shower as well.”

He's never seen it before. He's known C.C to return after dying but he's never witnessed her body mend itself. Now he holds L.L in his arms as his body knits itself back together. He doesn't look, he keeps his gaze ahead, the dark look keeping anyone who might be curious or worried away.

He lets L.L take the lead as they arrive at the suite. The adrenaline might have left L.L but it is still soaring through Suzaku as he hovers, letting L.L open the door.

He doesn't know what to do. What to say. What can be said at a time like this? He settles for what he knows best, to be silent, to be stoic, to obey.

He goes to find the clothes, L.L is very well organised and so it is no trouble to find a t shirt and trousers, before grabbing the clothes in the bottom drawer, clothes he seemed to be wearing more than he would have chosen to.

He paused at the bathroom door before knocking, unsure where to leave L.L's clothes.

“Come in.” He called, just loud enough to be heard over the water. He’s standing in the bath under the water, his clothes in a wet bundle at the other end of the bathtub. A rinse will do for now - he’ll wash them later.

He’s sluiced the blood off his face in the time that it took for Suzaku to fetch his clothing and has discreetly nudged the brainmatter into the plughole with his toe. He’s currently scrubbing the sweat from his torso, glancing only briefly to make sure it’s Suzaku coming in and not another person.

He lets the door close before speaking.

“That was my least pleasant experience here to date. I’d assumed that would be a quick death.” His voice is light but hollow.

He steps in, keeping his gaze low as he closes the door and puts the clothes out of danger of getting damp. He's done well to get none of the gore that was still on him on the new clothes.

It takes him a moment, after L.L speaks, to respond. Because those screams are still echoing in his head and he still has L.L's blood on his hands, literally as well as figeratively.

He's been in hell two years and still having conversations with people who he witnessed died is strange and unreal.

"It wasn't." Quick. He could have told him that, that hell delighted in pain and suffering. A quick death was not something offered here.

"I..." His words dry up. What can he say? That he is sorry? What good was that. What was done was done. They'd known the moment they had been tied down what the inevitable outcome was.

He fills that silence with a light command - better to distract than to dwell, especially when he thinks Suzaku is in danger of taking responsibility for that torture.

"If you want your clothes washed tonight leave them in the tub. A demon collects my laundry and delivers fresh towels every evening." Though not for much longer - there's only so much he can bargain for with his tailoring skills.

He steps out from under the running water and snags a towel, gingerly stepping over the side of the tub. His spiked heel-horns aren't half as stable as his entire heel and he's twisted his ankle more than once in the last few weeks. He doesn't leave the room, rather heads to sit on the lid of the toilet so he can keep chatting as Suzaku bathes.

"I had planned to spend my afternoon here, working on some commissions." His voice is muffled briefly as he towels his hair. "But working with my hands gives me too much time to think. Shall we seek a distraction, Suzaku?"

He nods at the instructions, it was definitely easier than dealing with the laundry himself, when the clothes contained reminders he didn't want.

It didn't seem like L.L was going to leave so Suzaku just undressed and stepped into the shower, leaving the dirty clothes at the end of the tub.

He scrubbed at his skin almost viciously, focusing on the sound of water and L.L's voice. L.L's voice, alive and well.

Time to think would do no one any good and so he agreed. "What were you thinking?"

Hell has a few things, in ways of distractions. He'll go with whatever L.L wants.

Dry enough for now, he clicks over to dress in the clothes Suzaku's fetched for him. A plain t-shirt (perfectly fitted, of course) and a pair of soft trousers are the most Lamperouge outfit he owns. Looking back, those schooldays had been good times. He'd felt awful all through those years as the threat of assassination hung over him like the sword of Damocles, but the people he'd been sure would betray him had all turned out to be true friends.

He keeps talking as he fixes his hair and slips all his earrings back on, giving Suzaku the slight privacy of not glancing at his far too defined musculature. How can someone have so much mass and be so light on his feet?

"It may only be 2PM, but what's time when there's no work to be done? I want to go to the club and pretend I can still get drunk - the entire place may be infested with demons, but they're demons who are honest about their dark intentions. I might even be able to convince more of them to take up my tailoring service for small favours." He shoots Suzaku the ghost of a sly smile over his shoulder "And if you feel like matching me with drinks, I'll get to repay this favour and help you stagger home."

He is not one to take long showers but he stays in a little longer than he usually would, the hot water soothing as he heard L.L moving around, his feet must pain him a lot still and talking as if this situation was anywhere near normal.

He frowns at the mention of the club, it's not a safe place and it is one he worries about L.L being in. But then again L.L has a better resistance to the drugs than most.

But on the other hand it was a good distraction, better than dwelling on what had just happened. He was confident enough that L.L would be safe as long as they stuck together.

He turned off the water, reached for a towel. "Okay. We can go to the club."

He scrubs his teeth as Suzaku dries himself, clearing out the lingering taste of blood. He prefers to be fresh if he’s going to get heady off of demonic fumes - it’s not something crass to enjoy the tainted air, he tells himself, it’s just a way to re-experience a mortal’s capacity to be intoxicated. As Zero he’d mostly lived off of coffee and adrenaline but these days caffeine is a memory. Lucifer’s island reminded him of what he’d forgotten…

He’s glad to have gotten his half-Code, glad to have the chance to ensure his peaceful world isn’t devastated by rogue Geass but C.C had been right: immortality is existence, not true living.

Once Suzaku is dressed L.L cracks the door open and strides out, leading the way from the suite on bare feet. The soles of his feet have been thickening lately… but that’s a more practical and less painful change than the ridiculous horns.

“I’m making headway with the demons.” He remarks, filling the air. “I’m still a lesser creature in their eyes, but a lesser creature who has some use.” He snorts, rolling his eyes. “As near as I’ll get to experiencing the life of an Honorary Britannian.”

He gets dressed quickly, pulling the now familiar clothes on as L.L brushed his teeth. The adrenaline has calmed now, the horror pushed into the back of his mind, to sit with the other horrors that dwell there, not spoken of, not acknowledged.

L.L is fine, he is here, talking. As if nothing had happened. But it had and L.L wanted a distraction and the club was distracting if nothing else.

He followed, slipping his shoes on. They were mostly clean, a couple of blood splatters weren't exactly going to stand out in hell after all.

"Be careful." He cautioned. Though L.L's words did make him pause, perhaps that was why he had never had too much trouble with the demons. He already had the skillset needed to survive them.

"It's a balancing act." Usefulness would only get him so far.

Even though his stride has been shortened by his altered feet he still moves at a fast clip, wanting to get out of these narrow halls with all their doors that demons could be hiding behind to drag them back into the torture chambers again. The creatures are far too strong - Suzaku at his side is no longer an asset but a weak point to be used against him.

"And I do like to push my luck?" He chuckles, but there's something hollow in the laugh he can't entirely disguise now he's moving through unscouted territory again.

He leads them to the stairs rather than the lift - no need to risk being trapped in a box.

"This place is a culture shock - our world seems to be an outlier in history. Not a single person familiar with Earth's geography has heard of Britannia - Washington's rebellion succeeded over and over again in countless realities and everything I know about my culture's intricacies is of so little use. Are the Japanese what you expect them to be?"

Suzaku kept up, keeping his eyes on the surroundings, for danger. There was always danger of course but some was easier to deal with than others.

He just nods, not joining in the laughter. L.L did like to push his luck, he liked to win and it was not always easier, from the position they were in.

"Yes, I hadn't met anyone who had even heard of Britannia, though some were similar in... demeanour." But none had heard of it. "There aren't actually many Japanese people here either, but most have at least heard of the country. I guess... I didn't know all that many ordinary people before the war."

Only his father and those around them, the governing members of the nation, his own family. "But they seem to be... From Japan's that never got invaded."

I wish we could have seen that too.

[ Likely he would have been recalled to Pendragon in a year or two, had the invasion not happened - but getting to grow up in a free Japan in that shack near Suzaku’s house would have been a lovely childhood. A friendship unmarred. Peace, years-long peace to truly relax him. Suzaku unbroken, himself… less broken.

He nods to the demon at the desk as they make their way through the lobby to the front door - it does best to stay sweet - and as they pass to the outdoors he sighs, relaxing slightly. Here in the open space they have more time to spot an attack ]

It’s for the best, I suppose. The only people I know who deserve to be down here are people I’m glad I never have to associate with again [ A pause ] Except Orange, but he’d fall to pieces in this place.

"Yes." There's not much to say to that. It didn't happen. Neither of them got to grow up in a free Japan. L.L at least had lived in that world now, a world where Japan was free, unshackled from Britannia. But it is still one where that history had happened, people were recovering, but the war and suffering had still happened.

"I was surprised, to see none of them down here. But not... It was perhaps best I was alone."

There were plenty of people who probably deserved hell as much as he did, but they were not people he would want to be down here with.

"What... What became of Orange, after the war?"

The smile that crosses his face is fleeting, but full of genuine fondness.

“I cringe every time he tells me about his daughter: her name is Marianne Shinozaki. She’s five; he and Sayoko married just before she was born. C.C had a lot of fun teasing him about that timing.”

They’re coming up to the club now as he talks.

“The plan for his future went smoothly - he lives on that orange farm in the former Area 2. It’s a successful business, not least because Nunnally insists on sourcing her oranges from him when they come into season. Every year he sends me more oranges than I know what to do with - and I’m sure you suffer the same fate as well. Anya’s with him too - it turns out her memory loss was the result of a geass placed far too young.” He never found out exactly why the girl had been geassed - those lost memories of hers never returned. “Orange defeated her in the battle of Damocles, plucked her out of her knightmare in a fit of compassion and spirited her away - door one please.” That aside was to the demon guarding the club. The creature let them through - and as soon as they enter the music’s pounding loud enough to fill up any silences. He continues, yelling as they wind their way to a table.

“She went to university - studied agricultural sciences! She’s still traumatised by being a soldier too young, but she seems happy enough looking after the orchards and playing the aunt! In the last picture I saw of her she actually wore a smile!”

He listens avidly. These are names, people he hasn't thought about since he came here. Or rather he had, but not in this sense, not in the sense that the world had moved on ten years without him, or with him, according to L.L. He's still not sure what to think about that.

But he had been careful not to think, when he had believed the requiem either failed because of his death or somehow succeeded. He hadn't let himself think of what had become of those he thought friends. Anya.

Honestly he had assumed her killed in that final battle, it was hard to believe anyone had survived at all. Her and Orange having an orange farm, her being an aunt, going to university.

Her smiling in a photo. He's very still for a moment. "I'm glad. She... It's hard to imagine her in a world at peace." But he's glad she found a place in it.

"Gino... I mean... I don't know. What happened to anyone. I thought Kallen killed me... Did she survive?" Gino and Kallen had hated him at the end, but he still...

They deserved peace as well.

There’s a table at the back - one side facing the long row of sofa against the wall, one side meant to have chairs that been pilfered by another group. L.L slips onto the sofa, sliding along to give Suzaku enough room to join him.

“Survived? They’re thriving.” He doesn’t actually know or care much about Gino but he’s heard nothing awful befalling the man yet. “Kallen races sportscars now, in between her work as a marine engineer - a bottle of white and two glasses for now, please.”

That aside is to an incubus who’s approached the table. While the demon’s distracting him another slinks to the table with a tray - it’s Emily in her backless dress. She slides a pair of shots onto the table, winking at Suzaku.

“They’re on the house tonight, sweet cheeks.”

Thriving. That was good. Better than good. Way better than he had thought, in the small times he had allowed his mind to think about what had happened, who had survived, what... What there even was after the war.

"I'm glad to hear it." Racing sportscars and marine biology, that suited her. He was glad she had found a normal life. He is happy enough to let L.L take the lead on ordering drinks but he goes bright red when Emily shows up, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Oh. Thank you."

He eyed the shots warily, glancing at L.L. "These probably aren't safe."

He's not sure he cares, he's willing to risk it for the distraction. To get the image of L.L covered in blood out of his mind, even for a moment.

Emily’s already walking back into the crowd when L.L looks back. He’s surprised by the shots but takes one anyway.

“Let me try.” At least if it’s poison he’ll recover in a minute.

He throws it back elegantly, grimacing at the sickly apple flavour. It’s strong… it’s burning his throat, but that’s nothing more than alcohol…

When he sets his glass down he’s flushed.

“It’s not poisonous.” He can tell that much. “Too sweet - I won’t have another.”

He bites his lip hard, resetting himself to sobriety. For a moment there he felt warm.

It feels wrong to let L.L test something like that, but he is right, he is the best for it. It will not affect him for long. It still feels wrong though, to let him do this.

It turned out to be alright though, as L.L confirmed it not poison but very sweet. Suzaku shrugged, sweet wasn't too bad and the wine would be less so.

He took the shot, wincing at the burn, far less elegant than L.L, as ever. A warmth spread through him, it was sweet and tasted overwhelmingly of apple. "It is very sweet." He looked up, meeting L.L's eyes to grimace in commiseration.

Eyes much changed, symbols of his Geass and for a moment he drowned in them, in possibility and power. The burning that was still tingling his throat turned into something else, a need, a want. He moved closer, instinctively as the demon brought the wine.

"Here, please let me." He pours the wine competently, a skill learned as Knight of Seven, before offering a glass to L.L with a polite nod and shy smile.

Well, that was little shift in mood. L.L cocks his head after Suzaku breaks his too-long stare to pour the wine for them. Perhaps he’s giving his all to living in the moment, the way he used to back in school in those days before he knew Zero was playing around with him. It had been sweet back then to see Suzaku smile and make friends with others and it’s sweet now to see him shoot that sort of smile at him.

Perhaps… Suzaku might be feeling true friendship once again? It’s that hope that makes L.L smile back warmly and raise his glass in an elegant toast.

“To surviving and thriving, for all of us.”

Cw: body horror - Graphic description of torture

Cw: body horror - Graphic description of torture

Re: Cw: body horror - Graphic description of torture

Re: Cw: body horror - Graphic description of torture

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