[He shuffles off in no particular direction, though it seems as promising as can be expected in such a bizarre world. There is an even row of streetlights, and though they're eerie, at the very least they are in a straight line. L loves the linear and the logical, and they appear to be the only thing in his eyeline that speaks of sense and familiarity. So he follows them, and jumps when one of them flickers as he passes under it.

It's impossible to keep his bare feet clean. Ash and dirt cling to his soles and get scuffed up over the top of them, turning the pale skin sooty grey in a matter of minutes. It reminds him of the movie. So he shuffles over to a puddle, with the intention of washing them, but his toes brush up against a piece of soggy paper. He peers closer at it, and in his peripheral vision, he notices more posters, just like the one at his feet.]

Holy one...?