[OPEN] we are always running for the thrill of it

[godly]

WHO: Light Yagami and YOU!
WHERE: Here and there.
WHEN: The weekend of 6/28-/6/29.
WHAT: Light being Light over the course of a weekend?
WARNINGS: None thus far. Open for more scenarios, so send me a message if you want me to comment with a starter or anything!

01. coffee shop

[It's a sunny afternoon in Herpoa. And while Light often regards the weekends as the same as weekdays (with just less to do on the schedule), a rare part of him is actually enjoying the easygoing nature of the day.

"Easygoing", of course, being a relative term.

The cafe is fairly busy this afternoon. The hustle and bustle and murmur of the crowd forces his mind to keep focused on the book he's reading, while people pass by his little table for two, laughing and talking and, generally, being loud. It's a concentrated effort, forcibly reading and comprehending Dostoyevsky while distractions swirl around him; and -- for whatever many reasons that define Light as the person he is -- he's actually enjoying himself.

As it turns out, there's not very many open seats left outdoors. The chair across from him, however, remains empty and up for grabs, if anyone passing by should need it.]

02. coffee shop redux

[Light's incredibly focused state only proves to tempt fate, however. For a long while, he reads without incident -- until a group of young teenagers, attentions pointed amongst themselves and not at their surroundings, bump into Light's table. Being a rather small piece of furniture, it's not very stable to begin with; it lurches with the seemingly benign impact, tipping over his open coffee cup and spilling it across the table.

Light reacts by immediately scooting back in his chair, holding his book away from any impending coffee stains of doom. The liquid slowly spills over the edges of the table and he curses under his breath, lifting his eyes up to almost-glare at the group of teens -- who are, of course, already walking away, completely oblivious to the inconvenience they happened to cause Light.]

Figures. [He murmurs, uselessly grabbing the small napkin on his table to clean up what he can.]

03. outdoor tennis court

[Light vs. the Tennis Ball Machine. Though he'd not consider it the ideal situation, it's better than nothing. At least he seems busy enough, running about in his appropriate athletic garb, hitting the bright yellow balls back with a ferocity that should likely be reserved for human competitors.

The temperature's a bit warmer today and Light has already worked up a sweat; he's been there for awhile yet, and though it would be more prudent to take a break, the teenage boy is simply determined to keep pushing himself.

He's good, but he's only human. As his movements become more strained, a handful of the tennis balls go flying wildly, veering off to the side.

If someone happens to be watching, or just passing by closer than necessary, that someone might not appreciate being hit with said tennis ball...]

04. park bench

[And sometimes, he just wears himself out.

It's late afternoon , and though he'd never say so out loud, his feet hurt. There's a small wooden bench near a shade tree that looks more than inviting, and a minute later and Light is seated, leaning back and heaving a slow sigh. He closes his eyes and brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He feels the dull throb of a headache coming on. Maybe he should stop by the drugstore later.

He adds it to the list of Things To Do Later, but allows himself respite for now.]

05. choose your own adventure

[OOC: Wildcard! Or if you want me to set up a starter, just PM me and I'll happily do so.]

Comments

2

[glassinine]

[Edgeworth had noticed Yagami in the coffee shop a few minutes before. He hadn't gotten up to say hello, of course; things were far more harmonious between the two of them lately, certainly, but that didn't change the fact that when Edgeworth was sitting by himself sipping tea he wanted to stay sitting by himself sipping tea. Yagami was such a damned extrovert sometimes; there was no guarantee that he wouldn't try to start a conversation.

So he sat, drinking his tea and reading his book, until he heard a little clatter and commotion. When he looked up, he sees some retreating throng of youths, and Yagami's table is soaked with coffee.

Well, ignoring him for the sake of avoiding conversation is one thing; not helping is another. At once, Edgeworth sets his book aside, and moves to the table by him to collect a stack of napkins. Then, at once, he goes over and drops them onto Yagami's table, head lowered, trying to sop up the liquid.]

[godly]

[Light's first instinct is to frown when he catches the shadow of someone coming nearer out of his peripheral. The last thing he wants is attention on himself, in the midst of a slightly embarrassing situation, even if it wasn't his fault. He's caught between gratitude of seeing the stack of napkins plop down on his table and his pride, which tempts him to say I can handle this, thanks.

But when he lifts his eyes up, that much is swept away in favor of vague confusion.]

Mr. Edgeworth?

[Had he been here? Maybe Light hadn't noticed him in the crowd. How odd, to have him of all people to swoop in and help clean up Light's mess; he almost feels childish, all things considered.]

You don't have to - I can do that.

[glassinine]

It's fine.

[That's all he says. Nothing more. There are times when Edgeworth talks far, far too much and days when he's uncomfortably taciturn; this is evidently one of the latter.

Still, he is quite helpful; he cleans up strategically, pushing in the coffee from the edge of the table towards the middle so that comparatively little of it slops on the floor - or onto Light. But there's a stack of perhaps ten napkins left unused; they're clearly for Light to assist in the clean-up effort.]

[godly]

[He frowns when droplets of coffee even threaten to get on his clothes (which some successfully do); the idea of him having to walk around, presenting himself with coffee-stained attire is inconceivable to someone as conscientious in appearance as Light.

And so it only takes a second before he's over the surprise of Edgeworth being there, and he sets his book on a dry spot on the table. He grabs the extra napkins and uses them to help clean as best he can, frowning a little as the coffee bleeds through and produces soggy napkins.]

Just like a superhero, swooping in to save the day at the critical moment. Right?

[He has to shoo away some of his embarrassment with a casual comment like that.]

[glassinine]

[That's - an embarrassing thing to say. Edgeworth clears his throat, self-conscious: is that what Light thinks of him? Or is he being mocking? Or is he trying to just be ironic in a non-mocking way, or...

In his embarrassment, he pays a bit less attention to what he's doing. As a result, his hand bumps against Light - nothing intense, just a knuckle against his knuckle, nothing that would cause even a bit of pain or distress -

If it weren't for the fact that that contact was enough to activate Edgeworth's power. And the fact that it's just a light brush of skin on skin doesn't matter. It comes full-force and brutal.]

[godly]

[There's nothing subtle about Edgeworth's power, at least not in this instance. It isn't a slow crescendo, but rather like a quick flip of a switch, and before Light can even register that something is wrong, it hits him.

The crash of emotion, of guilt, is so sudden and so disorienting that he feels like he's suffocating. Literally suffocating with a weight in his chest that causes him to freeze in place, spilled coffee on the table before him completely forgotten. And then he inhales -- sharply, deeply, like a man who had been underwater -- and no, he's not suffocating, he's still breathing but... god. God, that feeling is still there. A pang of panic causes him to lurch back in his seat, as if a mere few inches would help him escape whatever it is that's happening to him, but everything is overridden in favor of guilt.

And it's awful.

It's only been a few seconds and it's already too entrenched within him; any sorry attempt at rational thought, of staying calm, of trying to make sense of it, is both futile and laughably far away. And it isn't just the burdening, stifling weight of guilt that makes it unbearable... just as torturous and even more potent are the thoughts clawing in his head. How could I have- Why did I think that- What did I think I could accomplish by- What did I do?

Thoughts incomplete. A heavy punishment for an unknown crime.

It's enough to make him feel sick to his stomach, should Light even notice it through the unrelenting tide of self-condemnation.]

No - no, no, no -

[And then it's too much. Light stands to his feet, hunched over and hands clenching at his head. The already unbalanced table is knocked over in the process with a loud clatter.

And through grit teeth, he screams.]

[glassinine]

[A scream has a way of cutting through the bustle even of a crowded place. The cafe falls completely silent. Everyone there turns to look at the two of them.

Edgeworth isn't cognizant of that. He's taken instead by terror for Light. The boy's face is contorted; fear and misery are clear; and he has no idea why it's happened, what's going on. When he uses his power, he can faintly feel something, but only faintly, and only when he concentrates; like this, with it activating while he's absent-minded, he has no idea what's going on.

So Edgeworth steps forward at once. He grips Light's arm and asks him, urgently - ]

Yagami - Yagami! What's wrong?

[godly]

[The man's words may as well be a hundred miles away; everything is white noise in the moment, and Light is far from noticing the quiet in the cafe. Another heavy wave of guilt threatens to wash over him as Edgeworth grips his arm, and instinctively he tries to pull away, to try to shake his hand off of him-]

Don't touch me! [manages to escape him, heated and fearful. The forward momentum of his movement causes him to crumple to his knees, one hand still splayed across his face.]

Don't touch me. [He repeats, and then, his coherence questionable, his tone pathetic:] Why did I- I didn't do anything- Why?

[glassinine]

[Did I - ?

It had happened once before, by accident. His hand had brushed against Mitchell's, and Mitchell had stumbled back, all but catatonic with agony. Is that...? Is that what this is? Has he done it to Yagami as well? It - It seems impossible, seems indeed absurd - because Yagami is just a boy, just a child, and blameless; there ought to be no guilt to torment him. Is this power of Edgeworth's so brutal, then? Can it truly cause even the innocent to suffer?

But with Mitchell, it had faded quickly. Edgeworth's power had, by whatever happy accident, turned into the alleviation of guilt, instead. But now - here - this -

He should try to help him. He should try to make this better. But God, God, what if he makes it worse, instead - He's so scared that he'll make it worse that he draws back, panic-stricken and pale. He stammers - ]

I'm - I'm sorry, I...

[Edgeworth looks up, desperately searching for someone who can help.]

He needs - medical attention, or...

[godly]

[It feels like an eternity when it's only been less than a minute at best, but finally - finally, the heavy fog of guilt begins its slow recession. He can hear Edgeworth now, something about Light needing help, but it's the I'm sorry that finally brings the teenager back to reality.

Because... "I'm sorry"? "I'm sorry" for what?

Rational thought permeates just enough for him to put two and two together, but not enough to sound blameless. He hasn't regained enough composure for that yet. He lifts his head just enough that he can look at Edgeworth through mussed hair, and, accusingly:]

What did you do to me?

[glassinine]

[He ought to give an answer that's coldly, clinically rational. He's a prosecutor, isn't he? He knows how to present a well-reasoned case for or against culpability in court. He ought to say, I don't know, Yagami; I'll need to collect more evidence before I can be certain I'm at fault. He ought to say, You need to calm down, and then we can determine the specifics. Because he's not certain it even was him. He's not certain he even was the guilty party. He's not certain that Yagami hasn't been...poisoned, God forbid, or hurt in some other way, and that needs to be ascertained before he assumes guilt.

Yet even so, what tumbles out of his miserable mouth is this:]

It was - accidental.

[And then he backs away, shaking his head. Thankfully, a woman comes between them at that moment, kneeling down in front of Yagami and saying in a clear, confident voice, I'm a doctor. Are you hurt?]

[godly]

[Accidental. God. Accidental or not, there was nothing fleeting about what he had felt; nothing he can dismiss so easily as to not worry, to not wonder why it was so... terrible.

Should he write it off as a misfired superpower? (That's what it was, wasn't it? God, he doesn't even know.) There was nothing superficial about it. Though it begins to subside, and Light no longer feels like he's being crushed by something intangible, he can't shake the feeling that there's a significance behind it all that he can't quite reach.

And then, a thought surfaces: What if L was right?

There's a woman in front of him, asking him if he's hurt. Something sadistic in him wants to laugh at that, and he nearly would, mirthlessly, if he could manage it. He shakes his head. He just wants her to go away.]

I'm... fine. [The shakiness in his voice betrays exactly how "fine" he is, but he somehow manages to rise to his feet with what seems to be a monumental effort on his part. He wants to ask Edgeworth just what the hell happened, but now he can see it -- everyone's eyes on him. A table knocked over, coffee spilled, The Brothers Karamazov splayed open on the ground next to him. He's not - He can't do this right now.]

I'm sorry, I need to go.

[He hates to think of himself as running from anything, but maybe that's what this is right now. But for once, pride doesn't stop him; he turns to leave the cafe, not caring about the mess left behind.]

[glassinine]

[Edgeworth should go after him. He should stop him. Reassure him and soothe him. Explain his power, try to assuage the guilt using his ability...But - all of that would be the right thing to do if it were actually within his power to help. But look at this, this wreckage, just from the brush of Light's hand against his. He can't make anything better. He can't help anyone.

So instead he watches Light go. The shop is silent a moment; then someone clears their throat and says something to someone else, and then gradually conversation returns to the place. Someone laughs nervously, someone else a little more naturally. The doctor shakes her head and rights the table.

And Edgeworth just stoops and picks up the coffee cup, the book. He stares down at them, his gaze hollow, a feeling of misery and culpability weighing down on him. He swallows. Puts the coffee cup in the basket for used dishes. Tucks the books under his arm. Turns to go.]