helicon_grove | I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind

I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind

[Japan looks different, and yet oddly feels like home in a way. A home that hasn't existed in centuries, that is. Of all the places that Merlin's visited over the years, Japan reminds him of Albion in certain ways, though it's different in so many others. Perhaps it's the way the land feels, a mix of the old and new that should feel chaotic but somehow isn't. Both lands surrounded by the vast ocean, both now filled with new religions and resurgences of the old. The "pagan" as some might call it. Like Albion, the creatures of old have retreated into the shadows, no longer visible as they once were, but still there. Just like magic.

Merlin's only been in Japan for a few days, when trouble finds him, as it always does. One moment he's sitting in a nice cafe to enjoy a quiet lunch, the next there's some cries of alarm as one of the cafe's other patrons collapses. Before he knows it, Merlin's got a firm grip on the person trying to flee the scene--a friend?--shaking his head as they babble in fear. ("It wasn't me, I don't know what happened!")

Thinking ruefully of the lunch he never ordered, Merlin figures he might as well settle down and wait for the police to arrive. It's going to be one of those days.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Merlin's actions get some attention from the customers standing near him, and giving the customer who tried to flee a close look, a young man wearing an apron over his clothes blocks the door. Most of the attention is on an older man with a moustache who is injecting some authority into the chaotic scene.

"Calm down everyone, stand back. Don't touch anything! I'm a detective!" Having cowed the cafe patrons into a semblance of order the man turns to the victim -- but he's beaten to the punchline.

"She's dead." The voice is childish, absurdly so, and comes from someone within the circle of curious onlookers clustered about the body. "Faint trace of almonds -- cyanide poisoning."

The moustached man looks to a stricken-seeming woman behind the counter. "Asuka, the police. No one leave this cafe until the police arrive -- this is now a murder investigation." There is a stir of conversation and a sob from Merlin's companion as the man confirms what they'd feared. "And as for you--"

Conan rubs his forehead sulkily having been forcibly ejected from the circle around the corpse. Knowing it's better to stay out of Mouri's eyeshot, he makes his way to the door where he gets a better view of the entire scene. He's curious about the obviously terrified man who tried to run, running curious eyes over his fashionable attire, but it's the foreigner next to him that really strikes Conan's interest. They've never met, he's sure of it -- and yet the man seems so familiar--

Well, that was quick. Merlin gladly gives his temporary prisoner over to the detectives and their colleagues, but his hopes of heading out right after that are dashed when one of them asks him to stay for questioning. Bother. He probably should have guessed this would happen.

Merlin lingers in the vicinity, thumbing through the novel he'd brought with him while the police bustle about the cafe and do their job. The novel is an old one, but well cared for--a copy of the same novel Conan had left behind when he'd been sent home. He'd purchased one as soon as he'd realised discovered Kudo Yusaku existed in this world and stubbornly pursued fluency in modern Japanese since he no longer had Asgard's magic aiding his translations.

So caught up in his thoughts, Merlin doesn't notice Conan's attention on him until he looks up. And freezes.

"Conan?" He takes a quick look around to make sure no one else is paying them attention.

Megure and his subordinates seem to have the case in hand. Traces of cyanide have been found in the victim's coffee cup, and the suspects are narrowed to her dining companion, the tables either side and an elderly woman at the counter who chanced to pass the victim a napkin.

Its proceeding smoothly, the police taking names and addresses and the experts checking for traces of the poison on the cafe's patrons. So smoothly, that Conan has leisure to notice that the strangely familiar foreginer is reading one of his father's novels -- and in Japanese too. Odd that a mystery fan would be so disinterested in the real murder going on around him, Conan thinks, coming closer, his curiousity peaked -- just in time to meet blue eyes, looking up in obvious surprise.

There's a moment when something clicks, and Conan's reminded of a European city, grey and bleak, the man before him walking beside him, their pace urgent--

And then it's gone, drowned out by the sound of his own name.

"You -- know me, Oniisan?" This -- doesn't make sense.

Behind him, the young waiter looks up sharply, and then immediately looks away with a delibance that betrays that while he is watching the ongoing investigation, his real interest is on Conan himself.

Conan may not notice the waiter's sudden interest, but Merlin sure does. You don't live as long as he does without picking up a few things--and one of those is how to detect unwanted attention. Merlin doesn't remember all the details from Asgard anymore, but he does remember the organization Conan had been hiding from and how important it was to keep his real identity secret.

The smile he pastes on is believable, and deceptively innocent. "Oh, sorry, I guess you wouldn't remember. We didn't really talk for long."

Merlin pats the book in his hand. "We were at a bookstore, the one in the shopping district that opened a few months ago. The mystery section?"

That voice. The more he hears of it, the more familiar it seems, but --

It's not Japanese they should be speaking. English? Conan's about the try that, but then the man smiles and lies at him, confident as if he fully expects Conan to know what he's doing and--

Conan feels like he does. A hunch? I don't believe in hunches--

No, something the stranger did reassured Conan for some reason or reasons so far unknown. Conan will work it out later --

For now he wants to gather as much information as possible about this mysterious man's motives.

"On the way home from school? I probably had my friends with me." The foreigner did not get that book so worn in a couple of months, and Conan comes closer still, though he's pretty sure that the only people in the cafe who might notice so trivial a detail are Takagi, currently fully occupied with the hysterical suspect, or--

"Amuro-san! It was you who brewed the coffee?"

"Right! I haven't emptied the pot yet, so unless you did, the coffee should be the same."

Asuka nods her thanks and the police exchange glances before turning back to their task. Conan has to force himself to relax. Amuro works in the cafe, he has every reason to be there ...

And suddenly the foreigner's lie takes on new significance.

There's no recognition in Conan's eyes just yet, but he hasn't run off...which is a good sign. Merlin nods like he knows what Conan's on about, when he really has no idea who he might be friends with here. Ran? Merlin remembers a Ran. And a Kaito. But the pieces in his memory aren't lining up neatly just yet, so Merlin decides not to mention them.

"Sounds about right," he agrees. "Think you can give me a few more recommendations later? After all this is sorted out."

Merlin nods toward the gaggle of police around the body. "I need some more reading material while I wait for some positions to open up around here. For teaching," he says significantly. "That's what I like to do. Teaching."

Conan follows Merlin's gaze back towards the unfolding investigation. It looks like they've hit a snag -- Mouri, Megure and Takagi have stepped back a little to consult.

But just as he's thinking of joining them, Merlin makes his second statement. Teaching? Conan's almost disappointed. Such a banal end to such a promising mystery--

Then it occurs to him. Jodie was teaching English when she first arrived. Is the stranger saying that he's F.B.I too? Or maybe that's what he wants Conan to think--

"Mm! I'll definitely help Oniisan find a new book, once Uncle's solved the case!"

And as if planning to go, tell Mouri to do just that, Conan makes a beeline for the detective.

He could wrap up the case in minutes with Mouri asleep, but with Amuro there it's just too great a risk. Conan falls back on plan 2 -- providing timely hints. An elementary school kid sneezing and wiping his nose on his sleeve before anyone can get him a tissue is gross, but hardly unusual and prompts Takagi to start thinking laterally about the victim's actions before receiving the napkin from the elderly woman at the bar.

While this is taking place Amuro's attention doesn't seem to waver, though he casually shifts a little closer to Merlin.

Luckily for them, one of the police officers comes over at that moment to ask Merlin for his side of the story, robbing Amuro of any opportunity to approach Merlin. The interrogation doesn't take that long, as Merlin had only been witness to the very last part of the relevant time frame.

He shrugs his shoulders back, like he's releasing himself of the case as the police officer thanks him and heads back to the main cluster. Then Merlin looks over at Conan intently.

"Think you have time to visit the bookstore with me right now? I doubt your family wants you watching all of this anyway," he asks, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

That angle has never really been taken with Conan before and he blinks for a moment, before recognizing it for the convenient excuse it is. Amuro's tied up with the case -- as an employee of the coffee shop and one who interacted with the victim, he's not going to be so easily excused ... and an unsolved case or an incorrectly solved one would draw further attention to himself when it went to court and no Org member wants that. No, Amuro can be counted on to stay put and to see the case solved properly, leaving Conan free to ...

Walk off to his doom?

"I'll tell Uncle where we're going!" he announces, disappearing into the mess of people, and emerging shortly afterwards, rubbing a cuffed ear mutinously. Thanks for nothing, Mouri.

Without waiting another moment, Merlin turns on his heels and walks out of the little cafe. When Conan catches up with him, Merlin has his hands in his pockets as he stares out across the street.

"Ready to go?" he asks, looking down at his friend.

"Mm!"

As Conan falls into step beside Merlin, there's another odd flash. For a moment, he doesn't see the Tokyo concrete, but thick paving stones cut from grey slate, worn by the passage of time. The impression is so strong that he stumbles, and when he regains his footing, the vision is gone ...

"So, what did you say your name was, Oniisan?"

Merlin reaches out, like he wants to catch Conan and steady him. He raises an eyebrow in concern—it’s unusual for his friend to stumble like that.

“It’s Emerson Wyllt. But my friends call me Merlin,” he says, straightening again. “You sure you’re all right?”

Merlin? That's --

Well, it's not a drink.

He's pretty sure it's not a drink.

"I'm sure! But I really don't remember telling you my name, Wyllt-san."

It’s an opportunity to mess with Conan—or should it be Kudo?—a bit, and one that Merlin cannot resist. He gives the boy the most serious look he can muster at the moment.

“Maybe it’s because you never have,” Merlin says elusively. “At least not around these parts.”

Conan gives Merlin a dark look. He's pretty sure that he's being teased -- but isn't that just further proof of the not-so-stranger's words?

"Not around these parts? Ah -- maybe you mean--"

Conan stops, beckoning Merlin down to whisper-level.

Merlin quirks a brow at him, trying not to smile.

"What, you remember now?"

He tries not to look too hopeful as he bends down to listen. It would make things easier, but since when have things ever been easy?

Merlin is correct; things are never that easy.

As the older man bends down, Conan goes tip-toe -- to pinch Merlin's cheek and tug hard.

"Ow!" Merlin frees himself with a shake and stands up, rubbing at his cheek. Well, Conan hasn't lost any of that spark, he's glad to see. Even if his cheek isn't exactly happy to be the proof of that.

"What was that for?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

this is totally the right account

/o/

RUDE