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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[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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
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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.
no subject
[It's interesting, after all, to hear something so personal from someone who seemed to set on being apart from everyone.]
no subject