arrival - catchall

[skygazing]

WHO: Remus Lupin & OTA
WHAT: arrival and shenanigans
WHEN: 9/11-9/13
WHERE: Eglaf Govt Housing, around town
WARNINGS: occasional werewolf talk? too much love of books and chocolate?



apartment 103;

When Remus wakes, he can't quite tell what time it is. The sun filters in through the windows and he can't help but feel something akin to apparition or travel sickness. He's used to waking up on the English countryside, either tucked into some woods or using a barren, old cottage for cover. To find he wakes up in the beginnings of evening, in a warm bed, in a room with four walls? It's disorienting.

Even more so when he remembers that it's Sirius Black who's housing him until he's well enough to return to his own flat, that this is anywhere but home, and that he has dozens and dozens of questions. But he feels a little more human now than he did upon arrival, and he'll have to apologize to Sirius and his flatmates alike for tracking dirt and blood on the way in. He crawls from the bed and starts out into the sitting room. He remembers a coffee pot from earlier, and decides to try his hand at working the obviously more modern muggle machine.

He feels a bit rude, really, making a coffee with someone else's supplies, but he needs something to cut through the fog. He'd much prefer tea, really, but anything warm and comforting just now will do. He struggles with the over-sized, baggy jumper that Sirius gave him earlier (that apparently belongs to someone named Klaus?), the sleeves loose and falling over his scarred fingers as he spoons out grounds into a filter. "Oh these bothersome sleeves..."


around Eglaf, weekend;

Remus isn't a man to stay idle too long, particularly in unknown places. For all his reservations and careful mentality, he's already taken to the sidewalks of Eglaf. Word on the streets is the Fall Festival has started, and although Remus is quite curious, he's taking advantage of the fact that mainstream shops are a little quieter while the locals occupy themselves with the festivities.

He makes his way to a local, used book shop where one might find him perusing the shelves or getting lost in something obscure he's plucked from the shelves. If not that, then one might spot him tucked away in a corner of Soul Full Cup with an old, dog-eared copy of H. G. Wells's The Time Machine, while enjoying a warm cuppa.

Otherwise, you might find him en route or horribly lost between point A and point B, though he doesn't seem to mind that he's lost.


network - video;

[ The video all but fumbles on, operated by someone who is clearly unused to the technology, though he seems to grasp the overall concept as the picture focuses in on his face after a few quick seconds. In fact, it's almost as if the camera itself happens to hover in place, Remus looking quietly pleased. (He looks utterly exhausted, too, but that's his general state of being these days). ]

I think this thing's on. Terribly sorry, I'm afraid we don't have devices like this back home. I don't believe the Muggles have discovered this technology yet, but I'm keen to learn more.

[ And it's honest; the more he can learn about his surroundings the better. He can't help that, despite everything, he's still in the mindset leftover from magical, political unrest. ]

I understand some of you have been here for some time, and I hope to pick everyone's brains in time. I thought I might as well start local before I begin to try and tackle the mess that is federal politics. [ He grins, nothing short of cheeky. ]

Comments

[yessiriusly]

At first he's simply nodding, showing that he's also grateful for the presence of the two men who are constantly trying to hold him together with nothing more than affection and a prayer, but the feel of Remus's hand is so unexpected that Sirius has to grab at the chair beneath him with the other to mute the now constant urge to jump at any sudden sensation.

'They're fortunate to have you, too.'

No, he wants to say. No, they're not, they give me so much and I have so little to offer them. Sure they're a little broken but they handle it so well, mourn the way they're supposed to mourn, hurt the way they're supposed to hurt. All I do is fall apart and they always have to put me back together, knowing that it's temporary and they'll just have to do it again and again, over and over. I'm a curse to this place.

But he can't, the words won't come. There's something that's changed. Although Remus is well tuned to reading between the lines with Sirius, Sirius is just as skilled at seeing past the sudden fortress of protective walls that Remus so quickly assembles around himself. It may be due to something physical, like a bad transformation, or it may be like this, an emotional shift that's taken place because something has occurred to him, and it's the sort of thing that changes the way he perceives the current world and his place in it.

Sirius is mentally scrambling, replaying as much of the conversation as he can remember in his own head, trying to find the catalyst. If he finds it he can take it back, and if he does then what he knows is about to happen won't happen, because it's coming, he's going to leave, and in this moment Sirius can feel that it's all hopeless. He'll never fix it in time. Remus's mind is made.

Lupin lets go and takes the warmth with him, a sort of unbearable ice-like chill festering from Sirius's core and crawling outward until he can feel it in the tips of his fingers. He wants to reach out and grab him again, and perhaps Sirius was right, perhaps he is pathetic enough to beg Remus to stay, but he doesn't. Was it Azkaban? The timing feels off but it's all Sirius can think, that he's made a grave misjudgment. He's given Remus reason to politely excuse himself and disappear after all. The moment the thought comes is when the words are said, 'I should go', and it feels like a failure of the worst kind; expected.

"Right."

He nods, pretending like Remus simply wants to meet his flatmates, as if this is about him starting new relationships of his own instead of closing the door on an old one. He pretends like there isn't some foreboding and overbearing sense of finality to the abrupt not-abrupt-at-all way that Remus stands. And he's smiling when he does it, in a way that makes Sirius want to grab him and shake him and scream at him to not do that, to not act like Sirius doesn't see right through him.

He stands as well, and for a moment that's all Sirius does. Standing lost in the middle of his kitchen as he watches his plates cleaning themselves, both of their meals practically uneaten, and all he can think is how this isn't how this was supposed to go. He couldn't keep Remus here forever, it had to end at some point, but it wasn't supposed to be like this.

It feels like there's a disconnect with his own body as he watches himself move to the door from the inside, screaming that this isn't right and he needs to say something, but what is there to say? So much, and yet it feels too late, because those things aren't meant to be said in a doorway, they're meant to be said in comfortable privacy, perhaps in an embrace, and not in the middle of a goodbye that feels more final than it should.

"You know where I am, come over if you need anything. Anything at all. Or if you have any questions. Or... you know. Anything." It's a weak and desperate search for any confirmation that Remus will come back, but a part of him already knows that isn't going to happen. Remus will be politely sweet as always, perhaps say something like 'of course, and you as well' in that surfaced way people speak when they don't actually expect you to take their offer.

The disconnected hand opens the door. "They'll know." His throat is dry and he tries to swallow past it but his mouth tastes of ash and regret, sick with knowing that whatever words that were spoken to prompt this came from his own tongue, and he can't even identify them. "You're not the kind of man people forget, Remus." Sirius's eyes linger for a little too long when he says it, and his mouth opens once more to speak but he fails, and just closes it again.

"I guess I'll see you around." And before Remus can run like Sirius knows he wants to, he's grabbed and pulled in, embraced tightly as Sirius is left staring over his shoulder at the open door he knows Remus is about to walk through, and then he'll be gone. Not forever though, it can't be, because after everything that had happened, and after losing Klaus even briefly, Sirius is certain that he wouldn't be able to handle it. Forever would be the thing that killed him. He knows it so deeply that it sings in his bones.

When he releases Moony it's only because he knows that he must. "Be careful." Of what he doesn't know, but it feels like good advice, maybe even for both of them. Be careful of what can happen and the things you can't foresee, perhaps.

[skygazing]

Remus knows this story. How many years has he walked a road where opportunities seem to disappear, where relationships turn to dust because lives move on and somehow, he never seems to move forward. Remus circles some greater meaning, he's sure, while everyone jumps from point to point, but there are places not meant for people like him, and though he can see things on the horizon for those he loves, though he can provide help and advice when they encounter trouble, he'll never quite make those hurdles himself. Perhaps that is why he's the steadfast, reliable friend. Whenever they look over their shoulder, like Orpheus in doubt, glancing back in hopes to see Eurydice, he's there. Waving them on their journey, arms outstretched for the inevitable fall.

"I'm in 204," he says, glancing briefly at his orientation papers, scooped from the table on his way toward the door. Please come visit me almost on the tip of his tongue when it turns into something like, "If you ever want something more substantial that pancakes."

But such an invitation assumes money, assumes that he'll have food and things to drink and things to cook with. It assumes that he has a life he's never had, though he likes the idea. Inviting Sirius over for more than a cup of tea and pound store, tinned biscuits. He never had much, really, but he took care with what he did have. And perhaps the biscuits were just tinned, store-bought shortbreads or the tea was a Twinings knock off, but he bought those things with his friends in mind. The caramel tea for Sirius or the hazelnut coffee. Maybe a scone or a pain-au-chocolate they could warm and split. Something zesty and fruity for James, with his wacky tastes and desperation to seem anything but posh on occasion.

"And of course I'll have to return the clothes as it is. Mind if I keep the jumper until I can suss out one of my own, then?" It's incredibly warm, if not over-sized. That, and the long sleeves cover his arms, hide him behind comfortable, woolly fabric where a t-shirt won't.

He hardly has time to move to the door before he's being pulled into Sirius's arms and he finds himself frozen for a fraction of a second before he allows himself to sink into those arms and wrap his own around Sirius's waist. His fingers curl into Sirius's shirt, his face buried into the man's shoulder, all but breathing him in. He's struck with how suddenly he doesn't want to say goodbye. Because walking out that door means acknowledged the chasm split wide between them, means turning his back to it and walking in the opposite direction, deeming it too wide to cross.

And maybe it is.

It feels real and deep, maw gaping wider than before as they pull away from one another. Remus clears his throat before he looks to Sirius's face.

"You, too, Sirius. See you 'round then." And he turns then, feet made of lead, head full of static, and slips out the door with a tight, polite smile, heading for the stairs.

[yessiriusly]

There are very few things that Sirius views as intolerable. His family was one of them, the same believes that drove the opposition in the war another. As he watches Remus walk out the door, and leaves it hanging open long after he's gone like some foolish, hopeful child waiting for him to come back, Sirius discovers another intolerable thing, this time about himself.

How many times does this have to happen, where he feels hurt and confused all at once because of one Remus Lupin? How many times is he going to go searching for excuses, any that fit, to justify those actions? He's doing it right now, replaying the conversation yet again, looking for something, anything, that he could have done. He's clinging to the invite, knowing that it was probably made out of polite obligation but trying with all of his might to convince himself otherwise. How many times does this have to happen before Sirius can't help but wonder, if people who loved him so much in the past always seem to catch the sudden urge to run away in his presence, maybe they aren't the problem?

"Fuck." It's a quiet whisper to himself when he finally closes the door, and the sudden silence in the apartment is only broken by the sound of the dishes washing themselves. He doesn't know how long he stands there in the doorway, staring at nothing, searching for a way to fix this but not knowing where to start. When he finds movement it's into the kitchen, as if making his way to put away the dishes, but he stops once again to look at the place where Remus stood in front of his stove, his own chin nestled into Remus's shoulder just moments before. What happened?

"FUCK." It echoes through the apartment and that anger welling in him, left over from their conversation and stoked by hopeless confusion, is released when he kicks the kitchen chair and sends it into the wall with a jarring sound that leaves a mark on the paint. He suddenly feels the urge to go find a fight to pick again, the way he did when Klaus disappeared, but Sirius closes his eyes and tries to breathe deep, because he can't do that again. All he can do now is push it all aside, and think, and replay until he finds it.

And when he does he is going to go to apartment 204, he decides stubbornly. There are no bars here. Remus can't just run away from him and leave him wondering what happened. Sirius has more power this time, he has his freedom, and he fully intends to use it. Let Remus run. He's not afraid to chase, not when it's worth it, and it's always worth it for Lupin. Always has been.

"Fuck." The last one is sighed and tired as Sirius waves a lazy hand to fix the wall and chair, dragging himself into the living room to collapse back on the couch. He could watch television, but he doesn't turn it on. The silence is fine. He just needs to think. And he'll do it for as long as he has to before he figures out what to do, because it's not over this time. If Remus wants to put distance between them, this time, Sirius will make him say it.