Professor Remus J. Lupin (galarusblaidd) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2010-08-24 15:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, 2025 08, character: craig lawson, character: jasper diggory, character: regulus black, character: remus lupin |
RP: Remus
Who: Remus Lupin (solo -- but others may jump in if they wish)
Where: Hogwarts Grounds
When: Tuesday/Wednesday, 24/25 August, 2025 late night/early morning
Summary: Remus retreats into Moony and puts a few things straight in his head.
Moony was tired of the cold. It was as unnatural as he was. Summer coats were not thick enough to ward off the chill and it was wet, the ground damp and muddy. The night was not clear, but he could see the faint light behind the clouds to indicate where the Moon, his only Lady, rose above them.
And he was Moony, tonight, not Remus, hiding behind the old identity, the simple needs of the animal side that did not feel the pain of the man. The man had responsibilities, commitments, conflicts, things to focus his attention on that would allow him to hide from the pain of loss he didn't give himself the right to feel. It wasn't his place to mourn. Wasn't his father. Wasn't his son. Wasn't his best friend and brother. He wouldn't mourn openly the man his mate hated.
The werewolf lay on his stomach in the shadows of the rocky outcropping between the castle and the pitch. There were too many of them in the pitch that night. Too many near-by making his hackles rise with their nearness when he was trying to escape. His tawny fur absorbed the wet from the ground, and the near constant rain that never seemed to lessen past a sluggish drizzle to allow the world to dry it's tears.
Moony was tired of the cold and wet. But, it suited him that night. Suited the mood of the man inside trying not to exist, trying not to remember the years without friends, trying not to acknowledge the fear of facing that all over again, only worse as the number of close friends and family had doubled in such a short time.
Trying to forget the impatience of the last conversation held with a dear friend, or the unkind jealousy that still gnawed at him.
Moony tried to bury the tears the man would no longer allow to be shed. Because no one wanted his pain. They had their own, greater pain, he didn't begrudge them. But, even for a man hiding as a werewolf, that was difficult to do while perfect memory remained.
Memories of a man who had been a friend, a confidante, when Remus hadn't know where else to go in his own confusion. Memories of a man who had offered support and acceptance to the best of his ability, even if it hadn't been perfect. Memories of the man who had taken Remus in, no questions asked, until he could make it on his own.
Whining softly, Moony shifted uncomfortably, the wet ground becoming too distasteful.
Behind those memories of the man, were the memories of a child. These were brief, fleeting. Memories of a happy smile on a tiny face looking up at joyous parents. Memories of a strange pack of a family laughing together as they celebrated this tiny baby born in the midst of death and betrayal.
And that was the real reason for so much pain.
That tiny baby, who grew to be a treasured friend, was dead. The ray of hope, the future they had all fought for in their first lives, had been extinguished. They had fought for that child, died for that child, and now that child was as dead as so many dreams buried in the preceding wars under the gravestones of 'beloved heroes'. While the ones who had given their lives so that child and others could live, now lived again themselves in a twist of Fate as cruel as it was beneficent.
Moony leapt to his paws, irritably wiping at the mud making his fur stick in clumps of annoyance. He padded silently up the slope of the outcropping, claws not even clicking on the rock. Standing there, he stared at the castle, full of warmth and life.
Much as he tried, he couldn't pretend Moony and Remus were not a single entity. Human emotion may lend him his grief. But, animal instinct turned that grief into action. Human determination married animalistic clarity.
There was a new 'pack' inside those walls. A new pack of his choosing, combining that old life with this new one, old brothers with fallen friends. And now the memories that came were of the eyes of that pack, the grief in a brother's eyes at the loss of his child, the mingled pain and anger in another brother's eyes as he worked to lead this latest fight, and the softness of caring in the eyes of a mate who felt his pain even if he did not share in the reason.
And Moony refused to hide any longer. Instead of sheltering the man, he channelled the man, forced him to stop brooding and hiding in his pain and reminded him of the strength he was discovering in himself, strength he would need to use now to bolster up his pack, that odd little family that had stolen his heart and his loyalty -- the grieving brother and his wife, the angry brother leading the way, the mate who had shown him that strength...and the friend whose loss had touched them all.
Mind one with itself once more, grief turned to a resolve to see this through, a determination to protect the pack that was left.
Raising his muzzle to the sky, Moony turned all three -- grief, resolve, and determination -- to one long, chilling howl.