InsaneJournal

The youngest person in the glass box (though, it certainly hadn't been that way yesterday!) was presently settled on the second floor of the museum, having pulled a moldy, rotting arm chair over nearer to an exhibit so that he could sit down and stare across the long length of that museum, eyes locked onto the windows near the entrance door, though he was almost the entire length of the building away. He had picked a spot near the railing so there was plenty of open space between himself and the window. And he watched the birds. They were pecking and stabbing, slashing at the glass, cawing, watching the people inside moving around. They wanted in. Remus knew they did. he was just wondering how long it would take for them to get in, and what would happen when they did? There were enough little rooms for most people living here to lock themselves inside, but Merlin knew if they'd have enough time.

The young werewolf let out a small breath and looked up towards the decorated ceiling. He stared there for a moment, inspecting the scroll work. But that insistent tapping brought his attention back to the birds at the window, trying to get in, and the blue eyed boy curled his fingers around his knees and pulled them up into an Indian-style position and waited quietly.