Rowan Stark ☾ Remus Lupin (loonylupins) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2015-07-31 13:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | rowan stark |
Who: Rowan Stark
What: Two full moons in one month = feverish wolf dreams
Where: Rowan's bedroom
When: Late Friday night, July 31st 2015
Warnings: It gets a bit graphic.
For the entire month, Rowan had been a little less than one hundred percent, though at first he hadn't noticed the significance of it. The very beginning of July greeted him with a full moon, and all the usual unpleasantries that came with it. Headaches, nausea, all those cold and flu symptoms that were especially hard to explain away in the warmer, summer months. Rowan had made it through half a work day before he'd had to go home and lie down. Typically after the night of a full moon, Rowan would spend the next week getting himself back to normal, but not this time. This time, the exhaustion set in and stayed, lurking just below his muscles and making him particularly irritable. Even with Phoenix, he lost patience far more quickly than normal.
It wasn't until Rowan looked at a calendar that he made the connection. Two full moons in one month. For as long as Rowan had been the reincarnate of Remus Lupin, he had never had to experience this kind of phenomenon before and he had no idea what was going to happen. Remus tried to reassure him that it was nothing, just more of the same, maybe his symptoms would just be a little more intense at the end of the month. He didn't have to worry, how could he change? He'd never been bitten. Rowan wasn't positive it worked like that in this life, after all, why would he be getting sick every full moon if it wasn't remotely possible? He tried not to think about it, and on the day of the second full moon, he took a sick day and stayed in bed. That was when the dreams started.
Sleep came on so quickly that at first, Rowan wasn't aware that he was dreaming, or perhaps it was because it all felt too real. He was standing at the top of a hill, looking out over a small village. Something was telling him to run, to get as far away as he could before it started, but there wasn't time. It was too late. The full moon rose directly over his head and he felt his pulse quicken. His heart began to beat so hard he could hear it in his ears, then he felt his blood begin to boil and surge, his skin start to stretch against him like he was wearing it too tightly. Rowan screamed as his bones broke and regrew, the excruciating pain causing him to fall forward, hunched over onto the ground as his usual blue eyes turned red and bulged out from his sockets as his vision changed. That's when his spine snapped.
The sound it made was sickening. Rowan tried to scream again but this time it came out in a snarl, his mouth no longer human shaped. He felt his nose break and protrude out from his face into a snout, he could taste his own blood as his teeth grew into fangs, stabbing out from his gums. His skin was broken and peeling back as it turned a sickly gray color and sprouted hair, hands clinging desperately to the earth before they changed too, fingernails growing into claws. All his limbs stretched out impossibly into his body's new form, clothes tearing and giving way to the transformation. In those last moments before the wolf fully took over, Rowan felt a real pang of fear, and then it was gone, replaced by a primal hunger and thirst for the kill. It rose to its full height, paying homage to its maker with a mournful howl at the moon. The people of that village weren't close enough to hear the howling, they had no warning before it attacked, slaughtering its way through the town in a matter of hours, not stopping until its coat was blood soaked, bits of human flesh in its teeth and the screams of the dead and dying echoing into the night.
In his sleep, Rowan was drenched in sweat, oblivious to the world outside of his nightmares. He often mumbled, sometimes yelled out into the darkness of his room, and thrashed around in his bed until all his sheets were tangled up in themselves. He slept through most of the afternoon and well into the night, only finally waking up in the early hours of the morning in a tangle of bedding on the ground. He was still half in the dream, still seeing flashes of mangled throats, the contents of his victims stomachs practically on his tongue. All his muscles ached as if he'd really lived it, and it would be hours before Rowan found the strength to peel himself off the floor.