Remus J Lupin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theshabbiestofmen) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-12-09 10:07 pm
theshabbiestofmen) wrote in driftfleet2015-12-09 10:07 pm
Entry tags:
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.]
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.]
no subject
[ it's said with the same heavy sigh, the same barely there frustration, because james doesn't think remus is a monster in the slightest -- but he also knows remus would never be able to live with himself if something happened, and so... ]
-- you should leave your wand somewhere where I can get to it, then.
no subject
In any case: James is likely right. Likely this will be all right. It's not as if all he has is Wormtail; Prongs is large and strong, and more than capable of shoving Moony back. But Remus finishes off his spells and sets his wand with his clothes, high up on one of the shelves. Just in case.
It's only a few minutes later that it begins. The transformation always starts on his back, between his shoulderblades-- an itch he can't scratch, something that grows worse and worse. Remus grimaces and glances over at James.]
Change.
[An order, tense and hard, and he drops to his knees.]
no subject
and, after another moment, prongs steps around remus to position himself in front of the door.
he had, after all, promised. ]
no subject
Bad enough they see it the other way around, when he goes from wolf to human. That's a little more composed; it's becoming something civilized, something intelligent. But going the other way-- it's a freak show, it's disgusting and awful and it's bad enough that James has to deal with him all night; he doesn't have to see him change as well.
But there's nothing for it. And the one boon for all the pain of transformation is that it drives the thoughts clear from his mind. The second it starts, the pain is all he can focus on.
Transformation makes it sound like something magical. It's not. It's humiliating and painful and utterly pathetic-- Remus bites his bottom lip, hiding the initial whimpers that want to sound. He can feel his skin splitting, his spine arching in compensation, his shoulderblades rising up just a little too far-- and then that awful itch darts down to his wrists, his fingers, the bones there breaking-- and now the screams start, as his arms snap into place, as his elbows twist round and his teeth lengthen, his legs shortening, the muscles growing and moving beneath his skin, twisting unnaturally into positions they were never meant to-- he wanted so desperately to be quiet, to not isolate himself and mark himself as someone strange, but he can't stop screaming, the sound bouncing off the metallic interior, there's no way they can't all hear that, they'll all know what kind of freak he is--
But those are Remus' thoughts. Moony has no such worries. And while it was Remus who knelt, it's Moony who rises, sleek and large, ears pressed flat against his skull. He shakes, ridding himself of the last itches of transformation, and then regards Prongs before him.
Wrong, he thinks, wrong, this is not the Shack, this is not the Forest, this is not home. His upper lip raises in a snarl-- Padfoot is not here, Wormtail is not here, they aren't home and oh, he does not like this--]
no subject
but when moony arrives, fully --
prongs immediately presses his nose against moony's shoulder, getting his attention. comfort, calm, exuding peace.
it's the same. it's all the same. we'll get through it. ]
no subject
The smells are wrong, wrong wrong wrong, sharp and metallic, stuck in his nose-- he growls and paws at his nose, but it does nothing-- and where are they, anyway, why aren't they in the Shack, where's the forest, where's Padfoot--
Ship, the Remus part of his mind murmurs, we're safe, but he still growls, low in his throat, and pads over to the door. He's rebuffed gently, pushed away by something he can't see, and his growls go lower.]
no subject
no, no.
and prongs positions himself in front of the door, to prevent any mishaps
calm down. ]
no subject
He growls again-- and this is when it would usually turn south, when Moony would bite and snarl and begin fighting. He doesn't ever take well to being denied. But this time . . . this time, there's a little voice in the back of his head. Not ignored, not like it usually is. This time, the Remus bits of his brain say settle down and Moony actually listens.
With a little whine he backs up, sitting back and staring plaintively up at Prongs.]
no subject
the stag looks almost comically stunned before he, too, lowered himself to rest on the floor, folding his legs neatly to stare at moony, almost waiting for him to make the next move.
but he's not getting through that door. ]
no subject
He settles down, head on his paws, regarding Prongs. He's very tired-- he's always tired, the transformation is bloody exhausting-- and perhaps, Remus thinks hopefully, perhaps they might sleep? Moony never lets them sleep; Moony is always furious, always ready to run and hunt and kill no matter how tired they get.
But now . . . now, Remus says sleep and the thought fills Moony's mind, subtle and soothing. Sleep would be nice. He has pack here-- not all of them, and he misses his Padfoot-- but still. He's safe. He wants through that door, but as the bulk of Prongs is a giant wall of mass, perhaps sleep would be better.
Sleep, Remus says again, and Moony yawns, showing off his teeth. Perhaps they'll sleep for a bit.]
no subject
ready, just in case. but...
-- well. questions can be asked later. for now, moony can sleep, and prongs can keep watch for the evening.
just in case. ]