Maybe the world really is ending!
Oct. 29th, 2009 04:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darklunaMore Misa comment!fic, WTH? :) The prompt was: Death Note, Misa, being in costume.
Perfect From Now On
Misa doesn't remember why she disguised herself to go to Aoyama, but it was sort of fun, like being a spy. She does remember that she adjusted the wig, put on the glasses, and giggled at how unlike her the reflection looked.
Now she's dressing up for the last time, and that girl seems like another person. Light is gone, and though it feels as if her hand holding the makeup brush is moving through air thick as honey, Misa can do this. Misa has to do this. It wouldn't be right to go as herself, with her eyes red-rimmed and her hair unbrushed.
They told her Light died in the line of duty, and how she hated them, their awkward pity, their shell-shocked expressions. Something rang false about all of it. Misa knows a performance when she sees one.
And Misa is not stupid, no matter what people think, no matter if she gets confused sometimes, lately, without Light to explain how everything is just fine, how after this important case, these three days when he has to be away, they will be so happy.
"If you cry, you'll have to start all over," she tells the girl in the mirror, sternly, and the girl in the mirror blinks thick fake lashes, and stops, and puts on a smile. Misa stands up, and shakes her skirt. Now it's a perfect bell again, and the makeup is perfect too. Not a crack in the mask.
"You have to look beautiful for Light, you know," Misa says, and the girl in the mirror nods in perfect time with her. "And you only have to be strong a little longer. I'm taking you to him now."
Perfect From Now On
Misa doesn't remember why she disguised herself to go to Aoyama, but it was sort of fun, like being a spy. She does remember that she adjusted the wig, put on the glasses, and giggled at how unlike her the reflection looked.
Now she's dressing up for the last time, and that girl seems like another person. Light is gone, and though it feels as if her hand holding the makeup brush is moving through air thick as honey, Misa can do this. Misa has to do this. It wouldn't be right to go as herself, with her eyes red-rimmed and her hair unbrushed.
They told her Light died in the line of duty, and how she hated them, their awkward pity, their shell-shocked expressions. Something rang false about all of it. Misa knows a performance when she sees one.
And Misa is not stupid, no matter what people think, no matter if she gets confused sometimes, lately, without Light to explain how everything is just fine, how after this important case, these three days when he has to be away, they will be so happy.
"If you cry, you'll have to start all over," she tells the girl in the mirror, sternly, and the girl in the mirror blinks thick fake lashes, and stops, and puts on a smile. Misa stands up, and shakes her skirt. Now it's a perfect bell again, and the makeup is perfect too. Not a crack in the mask.
"You have to look beautiful for Light, you know," Misa says, and the girl in the mirror nods in perfect time with her. "And you only have to be strong a little longer. I'm taking you to him now."
