Remus J Lupin (
theshabbiestofmen) wrote in
driftfleet2016-01-16 12:08 am
(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.
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.

no subject
Ain't that somethin'. How long do you spend at school?
no subject
[Which both is and isn't a whole lot of time.]
It's . . . I wouldn't trade my time at Hogwarts for anything. It's something else. Honestly, half the time I think I want to be a professor just to go back.
[He exhales softly. Talking about Hogwarts-- safe, warm, loving Hogwarts-- is infinitely preferable to anything else. Slowly the tension begins to drain out of him.]
no subject
What would you be a professor of? What's it like there? I mean, if you can us nonmagical folks.
no subject
[He brightens considerably and settles in, fingers curling comfortably around his cup.]
It's . . . it's everything. It's home. It's safety-- nothing has ever managed to break into Hogwarts. The headmaster, Dumbledore-- he's beyond wise, he's kind, he's-- he's the one who let me into school in the first place, who thought it was all right for werewolves to study alongside humans. And it's . . .
[How to describe it all? How to describe seven years of friendship, of warmth, of the wonderful safe feeling of belonging for once in his life?]
You feel normal. No matter who you are.