taxonomites | [holo | Sanctuary] Wonderful muggle things

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[holo | Sanctuary] Wonderful muggle things

One moment he is running through the forest of Serbia.

There are howls and screams following him, inhuman despite the lack of moon in the sky. His muscles burn from running but he forces himself on, needing to get outside the edges of their territory. If he can just make it to the edge of their territory, he will be fine.

Screeching phantasms rush up from behind, shrieking his position to his hunters. He blasts them as fast as he can to silence them, to buy himself those few extra strides that get him ever closer to safety.

One moment he is running, bursting through the shimmering wards that mark the territory. The next he is letting himself fall, whispering for the magic to rip him away and back to his hotel in the middle of the Muggle townstead.

That isn't where he lands.

There is a distinct lack of smoke, dust and noise in the next moment. And far too much light to be his hotel. Or, indeed, the townstead, which is still mostly relying on gas and goodwill to stay lit at night.

But there is a lack of angry, murderous werewolves, so all in all, it isn't worst place he could be.

He sits down, deciding to get his breath back first. A pat down reveals his situation. "Bugger." He's lost his compass (which he didn't need anyway), his map (which probably wasn't going to help right now, all things considered) and his last bar of chocolate (which is a pity, because he really could have used that). But he still has his wallet and his wand, so the important things were taken care of.

"Right. Well. There's no door," he murmurs. "And a big... pointy... thing on the ceiling. Muggle thing. And another muggle thing! Wonderful. I wish I had been to school in the last ten years or so and I might know what that was." He rubbed his stubble thoughtfully. "No one's trying to eat me. And there's nothing hosing me down, tying me up or screaming in my ear, so it could be worse. However I have no food, no water and no idea where I am. That's less wonderful. But I have a wand. So they don't want me harmless. But they can interrupt my apparation, which means they probably consider me with a wand a negligible threat anyway. Merlin's beard, I have spent far too long on my own if I'm thinking out loud without knowing if I'm being listened in on. Hello out there? Could you let me out, only I've got some rather important business to get back to, thanks awfully."

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Noticing the hesitation, but refraining from mention, he lifts his eyes slightly, and nods.

"I am given to understand it is not uncommon for...new arrivals to be in some manner of distress."

It's another small comfort, as such things go, that he isn't the only one to come here and make such a fuss. Which is to say, it's hardly comforting at all for how embarrassed he still feels for having lost face for everyone to see.

"You look...weary," he says earnestly, hesitating over whether to speak further. "Unwell."

"Oh. That. Well. It's all a bit shock. Still, could be worse. Could be much worse. Somewhere to sleep, something to eat assuming I stop being lazy and catch something for dinner. No one's trying to lynch me, or throwing buckets of water on me, so I can think of much worse places. A few nights sleep and undoubtedly this place will seem positively lovely, if rather lonely."

Curiosity gets the better of him, and not even the assessment of this being a lonely place to be can distract him from it, true though it is.

"Sir?" He blinks, not at all comprehending. Buckets of water? "But why would anyone lynch you?"

"Wrong family," he says conspiratorially. "There's a lot of emphasis on lineage and heritage and mine isn't much to write home about, honestly." He taps the side of his nose, eyes twinkling and smiling slightly. "And I don't give a fig if people think I'm an upstart."

Comprehension refuses to dawn, but Remus has accomplished one thing, at the very least: Bagoas is meeting his gaze full on, equal if only in his own spell of ignorance.

Then, the twitch of a smile, as his own hands come up to his face for fear of something having stuck, or smeared onto his nose. Ah, the embarrasment!

"And are you?" He says, while checking his hands to make sure he's clean. "An upstart?"

"Oh my, certainly yes." He looks back out over the water. "People like me aren't meant to have dream, aspirations, ambitions, a place in the world. And there I go, charging around trying to get on equal footing."

His glance slides to Bagoas again. "I think you know what I mean, don't you?"

Oh, to plead ignorance, or to follow the tug of such blatant invitation to speak?

Bagoas swallows through the sudden dryness of his throat, wishing he'd brought a flask of water along. He averts his gaze only to have it snap back, drawn by the simple fact Remus too keeps his eyes mostly averted.

"...yes. My path was taken from me, replaced with another, not by my own choice. But--"

For the first time in years, the familiar words get stuck in his throat. "I-- am grateful for what blessings have been granted me along the way.

"There is a saying among my people. 'I murmured because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet'."

Remus smiles at the saying, familiar if worded slightly differently. "The same happened to me. A man came, he changed me, forever. But we make do with what we have, or curl up in a ball and give up. And I find I like life too much to just give up on it."

It is a special kind of boon, to hear one's own sentiments spoken by another; it brings with it a promise of kinship, despite one's own misgivings. Things are all too strange for him still, that he doesn't know whom he can trust. Though Taxon is a lonely, horribly quiet city after the bustle of Babylon...he'd rather be alone and know himself, than surrounded by people he cannot make sense of.

"As do I. Life is Ordeal, but precious beyond reckoning."

He nods slowly, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of the water and the life and the city.

"You're wearing something that smells nice. Shampoo? Soap?"

So startled is he by the second (third?) compliment in as long as it would take him to cross the bridge at a leisurely pace, that he can't help the creeping blush. The nape of his neck feels too hot and too cold at once despite the soft curls growing back after he shaved it, marking the time he's been trapped here.

He's reminded once more of the man who stared at him so blatantly at market, who for no apparent reason offered to buy him some piece of jewelery; no apparent reason other than the painfully obvious. It sets a bitter tang at the back of his throat. And so the question becomes whether the compliments are genuine, or merely tokens used to curry favour.

"Rose water. You are kind to notice."

"I have a very keen sense of smell. A lot of people smell of, chemicals and sharp things. Makes me sneeze."

He rocks on his feet, still watching the water. "I wonder how cold the rivers here are. And if there's any good fishing in them."

A fair enough explanation, though how the other man knew he wanted one...

"Most of the-- pro-ducts," he enunciates the foreign term carefully. "available, they smell too much, and of all manner of varying things. If the merchant says it smells like citron or lemon, it smells like nothing of the sort!"

He clears his throat, casting his gaze for somewhere to sit. "As for fishing, I cannot say."

"I couldn't agree more. Lemon smells like lemon. Orange smells like orange. 'Lemon scented' doesn't smell like lemons at all." He huffs dramatically and smiles. "Listen to me carrying on."

"Don't mind if I do, sir," he says, and if there's the tiniest hint of mirth lurking behind the curtains of his mind and seeping into his voice, then that's neither here nor there.

"I...brought some dried fruit and nuts with me. Would you care for some?"

Perhaps some sweetness will put the colour back in Remus' cheeks, rid him of his slightly sickly pallour.

"I come here, sometimes, to sit and listen to the silence. Watch the water."

It's not chocolate, but it sounds promising right now. "Well... maybe just a couple, thank you, Bagoas, I appreciate it."

He understands why he comes here. "It's lovely here. Peaceful."

He lowers his eyes to the small satchel hanging low on his hip, opens it to take out a small paper bag. Within it, soft dried apricots mingle with slivers of crunchy dried banana and a variety of nuts and aspirations thereof, walnuts, cashews, Brazil.

"It is a place where one can forget oneself. Forget one's past, and perhaps glimpse one's future."

"Thank you." He only takes a small pinch, mostly of fruit because the sugar sounds wonderful right now, even if just a little.

"You have a lovely turn of phrase."

"And you give compliments too freely." He smiles, choosing an apricot for himself, just inhaling its scent for now; then replacing the bag, then looks to the other man.

"I very nearly yelled at someone the other day, at market, for doing something similar. You'd best be careful, lest you suffer my ire."

"But I mean them." He nibbles an apricot, letting the sweetness settle him a little. "And I'll be terribly sad and pathetic if you do yell at me."

"I did say 'almost'," he points out, soothed by the familiar scent. He has a nibble, ending on a sigh.

"Half the time, I spend wondering what intentions this or that person has, and the other half..." He shakes his head. "I fear I am misunderstanding everything I see or hear."

"Well, I have no intentions towards you," he says, face full of honesty. "Actually, I'd like you to stay safe, because I'm rather enjoying this conversation, but that's about all."

"Thank you," he says earnestly, eyes slowly edging towards meeting the other man's calm gaze.

"I come from a land, a world," which concept is still terrifying, that there is a multitude of worlds behind the veil of Man's comprehension, "where I know my place exactly, and one and all know theirs, and my being in relation to them. Here, no one knows me, nor do they seem to place any significance on their own standing.

"It is very alarming. I never seem to know what to expect, nor what is expected of me."

Remus looks back to the water. "I suppose in a lot of ways, where I come from is no different, not really." Purebloods, persecution of the muggle born, the revulsion of his kind.

"I find, no matter where you are, there are a few things that are always expected. People expect you to be polite, they expect you to be looking out for yourself above everything and they except the niceties of civilisation to be upheld, like don't steal and don't kill people. Generally speaking. Past that, I just smile and try to be as amiable as possible and hope I don't offend any one I can't out run."

This particular philosophy of life brings more than a smile to Bagoas' lips. It makes him laugh, and even after it has passed, he finds the smile lingers. It feels good to laugh again.

"I have always been fast on my feet," he tells Remus. "Perhaps I should take your wisdom to heart."

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