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.]
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[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.
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How are you at maths?
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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?
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[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.
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[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.]
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[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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And if he can do this-- if he can learn even more-- if he can learn to do it without wands, without words, to understand the fundamentals so much more intimately-- why, he'd be far more useful asset when he returns home. It isn't about power; Remus has never been much interested in power-- but to learn, to find something new and learn it and master it-- that's worth getting excited over.]
Brilliant.
[He murmurs that, not entirely conscious of saying it aloud.]
Can I see what else you can do?
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A bit more, perhaps. [He doesn't believe in sorting all his tricks. He unfolds a book from the space between his hands,.]
Planar shifting, with tethered objects. Useful, not flashy.
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[Perhaps once you've lived a millennium you're immune to bragging, but you certainly aren't when you're in your early twenties. Taking his wand, Remus (wordlessly, and he's proud of that, even if it's small potatoes to Loki) summons the book over, catching it in his left hand.]
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But then quite suddenly Loki is next to Remus to relieve him of that book, while simultaneously still seeming to be sitting across from him. Combination of teleportation and illusion. Also useful.]
Cheeky.
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So with a little pop, Remus disappears and reappears across the room, a little smirk on his face.]
I have my moments.
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[He tucks the book back away.] I haven't been able to do any social folds that have crossed the confines of the ship's skin. A limit placed on my power from the outside.
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None, honestly. I can cross distances the same way you just saw, but I can't open any kind of portal, nothing like that. Or . . . well, I could potentially enchant an object to travel across distances at a certain time, I suppose that's a kind of bridge, but.
I didn't know they could put limits on our powers.
[He thinks of Moony's unnatural calm last night, of the way he could exert control, and files that note away for next time.]
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[Like the tesseract. He doesn't shudder at the stray thought, though it's a near thing.]
Oh yes. The places I was held before here... In one, my power was roughly halved, and at times taken away entirely. In the other I was bound with chains and a collar that accomplished much the same.
They do want to keep us as pets, after all. [For all his tone is outwardly pleasant, there's no mistaking the hatred in him when he says that. He's so tired of being a prisoner.]
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[They are being watched, after all, and Remus remembers that with a start. His hand goes to his throat, and for a moment he grimaces. They all saw that last night, then, whoever they are. And this conversation right now, and all the ones he's had before, all the private moments he'd thought were his own--
It wasn't that he was unaware. But he'd shoved it to the back of his mind, too overwhelmed to deal with the thought of being watched.]
Though I suppose I ought to be grateful I haven't a collar.
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Live as you will and plan for your vengeance later.
[That's how he's managed to not go mad through two rounds of captivity. Well. Mostly.]
As prisons go, it could be so much worse.
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[He hesitates-- but whatever, it doesn't matter, and clearly this man isn't so haunted by his memories that he can't talk abou prisons.]
Our jails are guarded by creatures known as Dementors. Awful things-- they can suck your soul out, leave you a husk. They're terrifying. I ran into one a few months ago on a mission-- honestly, I'd rather face a dragon.
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[But interesting, that.] That sounds most unpleasant.
Hah. The worst I had was someone hauling me out on chains once a day and threatening to cut off my head.
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I had nothing to do with it. Had the decision been mine, I would have rather had my head cut off and escape the boredom and gloating of my captor.
Nay. My mother intervened on my behalf.
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[It's interesting, after all, to hear something so personal from someone who seemed to set on being apart from everyone.]
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