[ @nogreater ]
“Go back,”
Quillsh was not sure if the boy heard him - he was dead. He had died of a heart attack, slaughtered by Kira, and somehow, miraclously... though he had no physical body anymore, Quillsh was still alive, though not quite in traditional sense. A ghost. He had never really believed in such things, but now... how could he not believe in the existence of himself?
A month. For a month after his death he had flown around, looking at the orphanage, at the children and Roger, even his own funeral. Oddly enough, the memory hurt - he had been buried in a black, ebony coffin, in a black suit - one of his favourites, the one that was made of soft velvet, with silver buttons, the one he wore on Sundays. Roger had cried, he remembered, and some children too - not the boy he was now following, though. Mello had not cried, and Quillsh did not blame him for it - the boy had always been a strong one, like him. And now it had been announced L was dead too, and Mello had ran.
“Quit this foolish plan, Mello. You are going to catch a cold like this - go back, go back to the orphanage, and co-operate with Near.”
