driftfleet | the one with werewolves

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the one with werewolves

Who: Remus & James; Remus & the crew of the Paisley
~~Broadcast:~~
Action: on the Paisley
When: Last week of November!

closed to James;

[They've done this . . . god, he's lost count how many times. Since around fifth year, once a month every month, no matter how many protests Remus has voiced. The routine is always the same-- Remus on his own at first, stripping off his clothes and hanging around awkwardly with his boxers on, waiting for the others. The actual transformation has around a half-hour's time frame, always starting with an ache, always ending with screams.

Even after they graduated, they did it-- not in the Shrieking Shack, and not every month, not with everyone scattered to the wind on Order missions-- but often enough.

So now Remus waits in his room, clad only in shorts, fingers twisted in the blankets nervously. It won't be long now.]

on the Paisley; open to all crew

[The poor crew; what must they have heard? Well, all of it, frankly, which means: at 2300 and 0500 hours, there are screams coming from Remus' room. The door is locked, sealed physically and magically both, no matter what anyone tries to do. They're most definitely painful screams, and if you listen closely you can hear awful sounds-- bones snapping, sobs, Remus whimpering in pain. Fortunately, it only lasts five minutes each time-- and between, there's only silence. Perhaps an occasional whine or the click of dog nails on a hard floor-- but beyond that, nothing.

After all is said and done, Remus seeks out each of the crew the next day. This is a conversation he'd prefer not to have with any of them-- but there's no way everyone on their ship hadn't heard him screaming. Might as well get this over with. He approaches them all one by one, his expression determined, his body held so tensely he's nearly shaking.]

I'd like to talk to you about last night. The noises you must have heard, the-- the screams and the like. This is a conversation I suppose I ought to have brought up before, but-- regardless.

closed to Mal;

[The morning after, and Remus is still reeling over the revelations of the night before. The ability to be able to exert control over Moony-- even if it isn't absolute, even if it's only a fraction of a fraction of what James and the others can do-- is astonishing. The ability not to tear his friends to shreds once a month, to not put everyone's lives at risk, to say no and have it actually stick-- he still can't quite believe it. It seems a dream; it's only because James has assured him that he knows it wasn't.

An unconventional transformation. It makes sense, then, that the next day would be unconventional as well. Remus hesitates for quite a while before heading over to Mal's ship. He brings some coffee as well, more to have an excuse than because he thinks Mal won't accept his company. James is splendid, of course, he couldn't ask for a better friend-- but it would be nice, for once, to be around someone who understands.]

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[Okay, he's a bit mollified by this. He likes talking about magic. It's one of the best ways to get him to have a mostly civil, non-asshole conversation. Hit him right in the nerd.]

I don't particularly care for healing. I've never been all that good at it.

Nor I.

[All right, peacemaking is a go. Remus even tries for half a smile.]

My friend broke his nose once, and we weren't in any place that we could get help. His nose is still a bit crooked to this day.

Defense work, on the other hand-- I think that's my specialty.

[All right. Look at them, having a conversation like normal people. Unbelievable.]

I've kept a few people alive until better aide could be given. I don't like doing it.

Mmm. What sort of defense?

I like creating illusions best of all.

Shields, mostly. I like-- well. Everyone, every creature, has a weakness; once you learn them, it's easy. Like taking away a support beam from a building. My illusions . . . mm. They could be far better. They can't hold up against any scrutiny-- but they could fool an animal, perhaps. Could I see one of yours?

Ah. I understand your meaning. [Well yes, he does like finding out weaknesses, the better to exploit them.]

Observe.

[He closes the fingers of one hand for a moment. When he opens them, there's an apple seed in his palm. The seed sprouts and begins to grow rapidly, roots curling down around his fingers to reach the floor, and then it grows into a stately tree. Grass, such an intense green it can barely be imagined, grows around the base of the tree and spreads, and then the room--

Is no longer a room. It's an orchard of apple trees on a perfect, golden summer afternoon. A breeze that can be felt rustles the tree leaves, birds sing sweetly, insects buzz. ]

[Oh. Oh. Remus' mouth drops open in awe and-- after a moment-- pure delight. He hasn't any capability to produce illusions like this. This is utterly encompassing, so perfectly crafted-- he wouldn't think it was a fake if he hadn't seen it created just a moment before.]

Brilliant.

[He glances around, fingers reaching down to brush against the grass, before turning to stare in delight at the other man. He still doesn't believe he's any kind of god-- but he's immensely talented, at the very least.]

Utterly brilliant. This is amazing-- my god, I can't come close to this.

Well, of course. [Of course it's brilliant. He made it. But he does grin, since he likes doing magic, and it's nice to have an appreciative audience.]

A millennium of practice does wonders. [This is as close as he gets to humble, remember it.

And he's not even breaking a sweat, it should be noted.]

Edited 2015-12-13 16:58 (UTC)

A millennium?

[That, oddly, he's more inclined to believe. Lifespans vary greatly among greatly among creatures, and while it's difficult to imagine anyone living so long-- well, it's not impossible. Surely the lifespan of a human seems so long to a mayfly; it doesn't make it impossible.]

I suppose I ought to feel a bit better; I've only properly practiced for a decade and a half. My god-- do you think you could teach me?

Well yes. I'm rather young for one of the Aesir.

[And foor a moment, he experiences a curious double vision, thinking of another dark-haired young man smiling like that, asking the same question. One of those rare people who shared his scholarly interests.

Billy. Little brother by choice. It hurts, for a moment, how much he misses Billy, though he's too well-practiced to really show it as more than a pause before answering.]

I suppose that I could. [He'd liked teaching Billy, more than he'd ever expected he would. It wouldn't be the same, of course. It would never be the same. But... but... what is he thinking? He barely knows this boy.] Though I can be an exacting master at times.

Edited 2015-12-14 04:45 (UTC)

That's all right. I've had some fairly tough teachers in my time, but-- I'd quite appreciate it, if you'd teach me.

[After all, how much worse can Loki be compared to McGonagall? Remus leans forward, eyes bright and hungry, as if he might convince Loki to start now.]

[Oh Remus. You'll learn. McGonagall is tough, yes, but without the addition of really needing some therapy and medication.]

All right. [They don't have any books, but they didn't really have much useful in Luceti, either.]I noticed you were waving about a wand before. Why?

[Oh, Merlin, they are starting now. Remus swallows his grin, not wanting to come off as too eager-- which is easy after a moment, because Loki's question takes him by surprise.]

Well-- I need it to focus. I can't do anything beyond broad things, volatile things. Things like-- god, I don't know-- setting something on fire. Something that requires no finesse.

[Too late, he's already got you pegged.]

Mmm. That is the first order of business, then. Your focus must be internal, for the sort of work I teach. [He reaches out and lightly pokes Remus in the forehead with his finger.] A fool depends on something that can be taken away from him. My students are not fools. If you have full control, you have everything.

[All right, so: Remus Lupin is, in fact, very intelligent. Not a genius, but he naturally gets high marks. He likes learning, too, he likes it a great deal; there's no better way to praise him than to compliment him on how clever he's been. He likes going the extra mile, researching things that he doesn't necessarily have to, learning the method behind spells, learning little bits of trivia just because they're interesting. Even after school he'd done that, spending ages pouring over books, delighting in every bit of knowledge he could absorb, and--

--and, well, the point is, no one has ever told Remus that he's anything less than clever. Loki isn't calling him a fool, but he's not precisely not saying it, and that's a bitter pill to swallow.

But Remus' way has never been anger. So though his cheeks flush in embarrassment, he swallows and nods and doesn't say any of the utterly childish thoughts running through his mind.]

Do you have any methods for working on that?

Edited 2015-12-14 05:14 (UTC)

[Well, to be technical, he's called your entire school of wizardry foolish. Because wands? Silly. Very silly.]

The same way that I learned at my mother's knee.

All magic is an exercise of will, one's will affecting the greater world, yes? And the world is nothing but matter and energy, the link between the two inextricable. Thus, the most basic building block of working one's will upon the world is to manipulate matter. And the simplest form of that...

[He digs around in his pocket and comes up with a few threads, which he stretches out on the desk next to him.]

You tie knots.

Knots.

[He tone isn't incredulous, but curious. He picks up a thread, winds it between his hands.]

Until-- what? I can focus only on them?

The knots are... not immaterial as such, but a means to an end. The knots teach you focus and control on what is small and precise. Once you can tie them as you sit, then you must do it whilst standing, whilst walking, whilst dancing. You see my meaning? Control becomes second nature. And then that control, you apply to wider sorts of magic, because that is the foundation.

[He smiles.] It is all knots. You just learn to make more interesting ones later.

Oh.

[Oh, that makes much more sense, and he glances down at the thread again. It's blue, which stands out vividly against his skin, and thin, thin enough that he could probably snap it if he truly tried. Even a basic knot will take a bit of focus, never mind while moving.

It's boring work, but you have to learn the basics before you move on to the exciting things. So he doesn't complain, he just offers Loki a slight smile.]

I'll start immediately.

[Loki nods.] Tomorrow you will show me your progress.

How are you at maths?

Decent enough. I took a few years of arithmancy, I can do some calculations in my head. I wouldn't say I'm particularly gifted at it, but not particularly awful either.

I've found maths to be the best way to work out spells, though not the only method. My previous student had other ways of visualizing and executing his will.

[He nods.]

I've had trouble with visualization, honestly-- it's why charms and illusions are my weakest area. But maths might work. Do you use gestures, words for spells, things like that? Or is it all nonverbal for you?

Occasionally, I might use gestures as a directive shorthand. But never more than that. I've found it unwise to make obvious that I am working my craft.

[A sly smile.] Though much of my work, I do whilst invisible.

The maths make it easier to organize the changes I make, I have found. A short description for how light will bend or space shall be translocated.

Really. Do you calculate it all so scientifically, then? I was taught illusions were more about focusing on what you wanted, not such subtle details like-- like, well, how light will bend and such. That you ought to bring what you wanted to your mind, rather than approach it like a physics project.

[It's difficult-- so much of magic is undefined, uncharted. They really barely understand it, not compared to what muggles have done with science-- but then, there are so many more muggles than there are wizards.]

Ah, but it is all science. And an illusion is the bending of light, yes? In very specific ways. I don't have to do out the maths every time I wish to do something... Much is just habit or reflex now. But when I've a great work I must do, a fundamental understanding of the mechanics makes the work easier and prevents undesirable... Surprises.

[He considers for a moment, trying to think of a metaphor that would be useful and a human would understand. Talking about soul forging wouldn't help.]

Think of it a bit like these ships. One needs not understand the mechanics of them or even be deeply invested in physics in order to pilot one under fair circumstances. There are instructions and failsafes and automated programs.. But if you did know the ship, from its smallest bolt to the vortices of energy that govern its engines, if you knew intimately the physics governing fought through a normal vacuum, then you would know precisely what you could do, what limits you could bend and which you could break.

And you could throw the rule book away entirely.

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