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
[He offers him a slight smile. Honestly, it's a bit of a relief-- he likes the questions, the curiosity that he senses fuels them rather than horror or disgust.]
And I'd rather answer than have you wonder.
no subject
[Apparently this habit he has of shrugging off danger in favour of befriending people is a good thing to have, here.]
Wait, if werewolves are real- what kind of world are you from?
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[Though really, if they made 'monsters' too intelligent, people wouldn't enjoy said media as much. They're not as scary when you can hold a conversation.]
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[He's one of the few werewolves to live among muggles, honestly-- he'd been visiting a colony in the mountains made up of them when he'd been brought to the fleet.]
Honestly, I think the only thing not quite so intelligent might be dragons-- they're not so clever as myths make them out to be. They certainly can't speak.
no subject
[But not surprising. Every time he meets a dragon, he has that faint hope that it'll be an NPC or something, but never.]
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That's sphynxs.
no subject
[They're either mindless beasts or genius ancients. There's basically no in-between.]
Have you ever fought one?
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[Which probably sounds weird coming from a scrawny thing like him, but eh.]
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[Because-- well, he looks so skinny and helpless, and he surely doesn't have magic.]
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Oh, a sword.
[Obviously!]
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No, it wasn't talent. Just skill, like I said. I couldn't do that here, though, even if I wanted to.