taxonomites | [holo | A cottage on the outskirts of Shelley]

Entry tags:

[holo | A cottage on the outskirts of Shelley]

Remus paces restlessly around a small cottage room. There's little in the way of furniture visible, just an armchair and some curtains fluttering in the breeze, suggesting a garden outside beyond the open window.

The man shifts restlessly, clearly agitated and muttering to himself, throwing himself into the arm chair, getting up again to pace, tugging his hair with his hands. "It's getting too soon, too close, I can feel it, but even if I found a brewer, it's too late to start for this cycle. I should tell them, no, Remus, think, you can't tell them, they don't even seem to have magic here, explaining the details of being a Dark Creature isn't going to go over well. But I'm a danger. I know I'm a danger and I need them to stay away. I'm not near anyone, but someone might come looking for me, because they're all nice and thoughtful that way, buggeration, I can't think when it's so close!"

He throws himself into the armchair, glowering at the tablet. "And you, you horrible little thing. Why are you flashing at me? I don't know what you want, stop it."

He's clearly not quite himself. He also clearly has no idea that the tablet flashing means 'broadcast'.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes," he says, and granted it is more of the habitual sort, but it is agreement all the same. When he looks up, his smile almost reaches his eyes.

"Yes, of course. Please. I would never turn away your hospitality."

Remus draws away, hurrying to his small kitchen and pouring out tea and grabbing him a bowl of stew and a bar of chocolate, which will clearly help things.

He brings it out, setting it on the coffee table. "You can stay here. It's not grand like the palace, but it's safe and I can probably keep her out, even if she comes looking for you."

While Remus has his back turned, Bagoas ducks his head and lets himself weep for Glitch; for not daring to bring him along, for being too afraid to stay once given an excuse to leave. He couldn't meet Remus when he'd promised, too afraid of repercussions were he to go out in daylight and her flying monkeys were to follow him.

But it would seem even the witch sleeps, and Bagoas knows better than most here, being a servant of his own particular calibre, to make himself pass by unnoticed.

He lets out a last tremulous sigh as his host returns, wiping his cheeks with the back of his right hand. He finds it easier to smile when his head doesn't threaten to burst like an overripe fig.

"Thank you. It smells lovely." He wraps his fingers around and under the bowl, warming his cold hands. "Would you forgive me? I never meant to bring bad word to your doorstep."

"I invited you here to give you a valid reason to leave without drawing her attention." He gets his fur coat, draping it around Bagoas to make sure he stays warm while he looks like he's about to go into shock.

"You're completely forgiven, but you don't need to apologise." He shuts the windows and draws the curtains, drawing a finger around the edges of the sills, faint light trailing briefly before vanishing again.

In all honesty, it is not so much the strain of sharing a roof and who knows how many rooms with a deranged woman and her mercurial nature, nor indeed with her recently invalid consort, but rather the shock of having to come here by tram for the sake of urgency.

Priorities and irrational fears notwithstanding, of course.

He sees the glimmering light, more so for the lack of it coming from outside. The stew is hot through the ceramic, its aroma wafting enticingly up from the bowl. But first there's a question he feels compelled to ask.

"...are you a Magus?"

Remus doesn't answer at first, making sure the windows are sealed.

"In some ways. I have magic in my blood." He adjusts the curtains once more. "I also have a monster in me that comes out on the full moon, but you don't need to worry about it."

"A monster?" He frowns, half poised to have a first bite of stew. "You tell me you're a monster and expect me to believe you, but not worry?"

He sets the bowl down, spoon and all, then pats the seat beside him.

"Inside of me. It takes over my body during the full moon. But I will be safely locked away." He says it firmly, believing it.

He sits down, hands on his knees. "I don't know if your culture has a term for it. Werewolf. Loup-garou. But really, it won't be a problem. I've been managing it for thirty years. The more important problem is stopping this dark force in the palace."

Bagoas shakes his head, twisting slightly where he sits to better turn Remus' right hand and cradle it in his own; right hand palm to the back of his hand, left palm to his palm. If Remus says it is under control, then he'll trust his word. His own curiosity may be sated, but later.

"Will you be safe?"

"I won't hurt anyone," he promises. "I have a cellar I'll be in and Mick said he would come and make sure I stay down there the first night." He presses his hand down to Bagoas'.

"And dealing with the possession, well, I'm not a hero, but I might be able to defend somewhere. It depends on how powerful she is."

"That is not what I asked," Bagoas points out, searching the other's eyes. "Remus, you must understand-- I wouldn't want to be presumptuous, but I value your...companionship. Will you be safe?

"You may be a Magus of your own kind, but you can fight the witch alone as well as I can."

Which is to say, not entirely well, though Remus has advantages Bagoas doesn't.

"I don't want you to come in harm's way."

"Oh. Well, I won't come to any permanent harm, that's all right. I won't remember anything, I'm not in my body when it is." He smiles. "I'm not going to fight her. I'm not that brave, I'm afraid. But I will hold her back from here."

"There will come a new dawn tomorrow," he says softly, giving Remus' hand a gentle squeeze.

"I am given to understand even the most horrendous things are transient here. Hopefully, you won't need to face her.

"In either case, you won't be alone."

He smiles, appreciates the sentiment but doesn't agree necessarily. "No, I won't be alone. And you don't have to deal with it all alone either, all right? You're staying here until this is dealt with, I insist, for your safety. We can try and get Glitch out, maybe we can draw him somewhere while she isn't suspecting it, a diversion..."

Bagoas nods, accustomed to others deciding such things for him; there's a security in it, a familiarity that he needs more than he can say. "I'll stay. Thank you."

He slowly loosens his grip on Remus' hand, but doesn't move away immediately. First, a token of gratitude and trust that speaks louder than words: he leans in, pressing a soft, dry kiss to Remus' temple.

"For telling me of your inner wolf." He may not fully fathom the danger, but he can tell it isn't something the other speaks of with ease or wanting.

Remus' eyes close. Had it come a year earlier, a decade earlier, maybe he would've wept, but his tears dried out a long time ago. "Thank you. For accepting. In my world, I'm a pariah for what I am, for the wolf."

He inclines his head, a small smile on his lips, his eyes on Remus' hands, the beginnings of scarring he can only just see at the edge of his sleeve. "You are welcome."

One last pat, and he slides his hands away to make good of Remus' generosity. The bowl is picked up again, and he starts tucking in with a rediscovered appetite.

"Where I come from, the wolf is considered a noble being, as indeed it is believed a cousin of the dog. It is only fitting that they would share traits."

He frowns suddenly, an alarming thought striking him. "...a dog may make himself a place among humans, but a wolf belongs with his pack."

"It's not like a normal wolf. It's a savage monster that pretends to be a wolf, but isn't. It looks mostly like a wolf, but it is not one."

And his pack is gone. Long gone.

Lowering his eyes once again to his food, he realizes his error in judgement. "Then we shall speak of it no more, for you are not your affliction."

Remus curls his other hand over Bagoas'. "I didn't mean to snap. It's coming near full moon, it makes my moods stronger and harder to control, I become more irritable. Not least of all because I stop sleeping properly. I'm just so scared of it. I always have been, it's a horrific monster and it takes my body to try and do its evil." He inhales and relaxes on the exhale. "Diversion. We need a diversion to try and get Glitch out safely. I can provide that if we can arrange people to help get him out."

The touch makes him look up, eyes as open as a book, if you can read its secrets. "I made presumptions; it is within your full right to dissuade me of them."

His gaze falls upon Remus' hand once more, but he makes no move to either clasp it or remove himself from the touch.

"Glitch's friends are of able mind and body alike...and though I am grateful that you would help him, as my friend, we can talk of it come morning. We'll share this meal, and after, should you permit my doing so, I could help you sleep. Restlessness is like a poison to the mind."

"Of course, come morning." He pats Bagoas' hand again and withdraws his own. "Please, eat, there's chocolate for after, I find nothing soothes the nerves quite as much as a bit of chocolate. I may even have a couple of sleeping potions about the place."

He had wondered what that scent was, but having a name for it hardly helps; he nods, and continues eating just as much for his own benefit as honouring Remus. He is helped along by the soft, comforting textures and tastes, by the warmth settling in his belly to spread outward and chase away any remaining chill. Remus' coat certainly does its bit, and once he's finished his bowl (just short of scraping it clean), he burrows further into the soft folds.

"I must confess I've never heard of chocolate before. Is it a delicacy from your home?"

It looks rather like a bar of henna, and as such doesn't look too startlingly alien.

"It's fairly common in my home. It's a sweet." He breaks a piece off and offers it out to Bagoas. "I tend to use it as a comfort food, but that's just me."

He takes it between thumb and forefinger, turning it over, surprised to find it melting almost immediately.

"It smells good. We would usually serve wine and fruit at the end of a meal."

There are other things he means to ask, or perhaps comment on, but all disappears when he has his first bite. It is unlike anything he's ever tasted. Sweet and melting into nothingness, leaving behind foreign but entirely pleasant flavour.

"Hmm." He hums, the soft few intimations of a giggle escaping through his nose. "Oh. This is lovely."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject