driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Remus Lupin
Broadcast:
When: January 14th, early evening

[Remus sits on the floor in James' room, back against the bed, holding the communicator in one hand. The other is tangled in his hair; he pushes his hand through the tangled curls again and again throughout this little speech. Still, he smiles pleasantly enough. This first part is easy, after all.]

Right, hello. My name is Remus Lupin, I've been here a few months, and I've noticed a bit of a trend among those taken. There's quite a few of us with-- well, abilities, for lack of a better word. Abilities that most human beings don't have. They vary, of course, but-- it's an odd consistency. I've met more people with magic than I usually do in a year. Something to think on, perhaps.

In any case: even if it's a meaningless connection-- something that has no significance beyond sheer entertainment value-- I'd be interested to hear what everyone can do. Whether you call it magic or alchemy or even if it's-- god, I don't know, if you have a talent for juggling, I'd be interested. I want to know more about what kind of company I keep.

[His smile fades, now, and he hesitates visibly.]

For example, I, ah. I'm a wizard. Wand and all. I can do magic, which means anything from transfiguration to charms to knowing what plants to use to brew a good cold remedy. It's hardly infallible, but it's certainly useful. And, ah . . .

I'm a werewolf as well. The sort that only changes once a month. It's lasted here, but I seem to have control over it. I take quite a few precautions, so-- so it won't be a problem. I'm not the only werewolf here, nor the only other supernatural creature, but--

[He shrugs. His face is pale, now, the little scars standing out sharply against his skin-- but he forces himself to keep talking.]

I'm used to keeping it a secret at home. And I'm sure others are as well. So I suppose this is a . . . a way to let everyone know. Even if they don't want to tell anyone else, they know they're not alone.

[His mouth twists in a wry smirk.]

That, and I'm tired of keeping it a secret.

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It's easier not to think of sometimes, I think.

[His stomach churns, though.]

Are the killers still around?

Yes. Some of them are a little more careful of exactly which monsters they hunt down, but the others aren't. And there are more, I'm sure. There always are.

[there's a shift, and his tone becomes clearer as he settles closer to the device.]

Because that's how this place works. They wouldn't make a profit if there was no quiet conflict or threat to thrill over.

It is a television show.

[Tiredly:]

What are their names, then? And-- are you a werewolf, then? Or something else?

Something else.

And I know regrettably few of their names. However, there is one elven man, covered in tattoos, that I would be particularly careful around. His name is Fenris. He has a few very specific and violent triggers, and he can end lives without a thought.

[it's unfair, really. how come Fenris gets to keep his cool insta-kill powers and he doesn't?]

I'll keep an eye out for him, then. Thank you.

[He'll tell James, too-- not that James has to fear, being human, but he'll want to know.]

Something else such as . . . ? You hardly have to tell me if you don't want, but-- I'm interested. It's nice to know other non-humans.

You can call me Tek.

And I'll answer the rest if you're still here in two weeks.

That's worryingly cryptic, Tek, but I'll certainly take it. Do you often warn new non-humans, or am I somehow special?

[worryingly cryptic: that's him!]

I only warn the ones who seem in desperate need of the advice.

[aka the ones stupid enough to go blabbing to the world about what they are.]

I'm told I look vulnerable, but I assure you, any attempt on my life here would hardly be the first.

I don't doubt it.

But, as you've said... many people here are of a caliber that surprises most of us.

Well. I'll be on my guard. I suppose it was too good to be true to think that everyone was accepting.

What ship are you on?

[there's a hesitation... because someone might be just the teensiest bit paranoid (big shocker there) before he relents.]

The Pathstone. Why?

I'm on the Paisley.

[Equal exchange, after all.]

And if we're being hunted, it makes sense we ought to know where the others supernatural creatures, hm? Two are stronger than one.

Do you presume that we will run to each other's aid?

[he sounds amused, but not too malicious about it.]

I would to yours. Us heroic types rather have to, frankly.

[Dryly said-- clearly, he doesn't think of himself as a hero-- but he really would come to his aid.]

If not for that, then because nonhumans have to stick together.

Edited 2016-01-19 03:48 (UTC)

Ah, I do pity you, then.

[he's teasing, though the fact that he doesn't consider himself a hero type is very much true.]

I do agree with your second point, however. At least in a general sense. I haven't found much of that mindset present here, and that is disappointing.

I would imagine most people don't want to face the reality of being hunted. I certainly wouldn't, if I had the choice.

People do like to pretend.

[himself very much included.]

Though, you seem to be the exception to the rule.

It's tiring, I find. But I've been forced to pretend most of my life-- at this point, to continue doing it seems exhausting.

Exhausting enough to be willing to deal with the alternative, apparently.

I only hope the trade is worth it.

Well, if you don't find me dead in two weeks, I think we can assume it a success. Are you always this optimistic?

Only when I'm in a good mood.

[the smile is there in his voice.]

I'd hate to see you dour, then. Or cryptic.

Goodness... [he has to laugh a little.] Could you imagine?

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