Mssr. Moony (hungrylikethe) wrote in rewritethreads, @ 2020-11-21 13:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: freya roy, character: remus lupin, player: ames, player: sunny |
WHO: Remus Lupin and Freya Roy
WHEN: 23 November, 7am-ish
WHERE: Kensington Garden
WHAT: An American Werewolf in London Two Werewolves in London. Partly-Welsh and Scottish, respectively.
WARNINGS: TBD
Remus ran. Worn, dingy grey trainers pounded against the path in a steady rhythm that seemed to thump in time with his racing heartbeat. The sun wasn't fully up yet and the park felt quiet. Peaceful. He could smell the slightly metallic scent of ozone in the morning fog, even as the cold air burned his lungs. He pushed himself, picking up his pace. Running this 7km loop had become a meditative morning ritual for him lately. His tiny room in Knockturn Alley was cozy and comfortable enough, but some mornings he woke up feeling oppressively caged inside. Trapped by the walls, by the orderly stacks of his books and the way the floor creaked, by the mattress he'd done up with sheets and blankets in the corner and the familiar whistle of the tea kettle on a hot plate. Here, running through Hyde Park and Kensington Garden, the weight eased from his chest. He could breathe. He could almost forget that he was still in London. Grass. Wet earth. Trees. It reminded him in some ways of those evenings in the Forbidden Forest with Prongs, Padfoot, and Wormtail, with nothing but space, speed, and fresh air. Those evenings had been some of the happiest moments of his life. The absolute and utter relief, how much lighter his burden felt when it was shared between four friends, rather than being carried alone. Looking back, he knew they had been careless… but back then? It had felt like pure freedom. Instead of slowing down as he neared the end of his loop, he sped up even more - pumping his arms, elbows tucked in towards his sides. He wished he could run even faster. He wished the ground beneath his feet was dirt, rather than cement and stone. He wished they were with him, racing through the park past the statues, away from the city and the noise and the war, without a care in the world. He wished…
Once he reached his starting marker - a water fountain on the southwestern side of the Serpentine - he finally slowed, then stopped. His face was flushed, his dark hair damp with sweat and sticky against his forehead. He bent down at the fountain to take a sip from the thin, icy stream of water before heading over to a nearby bench to sit for a moment and catch his breath.