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ataraxionlogs2014-06-22 07:36 pm
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Entry tags:
- !event,
- alex summers | au,
- arya stark,
- biggs darklighter,
- bilbo baggins,
- brad colbert,
- bran stark,
- bucky barnes,
- captain hook (killian jones),
- cassandra anderson,
- cesare borgia,
- charles xavier,
- claire bennet,
- combeferre,
- darcy lewis,
- elizabeth of york,
- emma swan,
- eowyn,
- eponine thenardier,
- fenris,
- firo prochainezo,
- frodo baggins,
- galadriel,
- gendry,
- grant ward,
- hermione granger,
- jaime lannister,
- john "reaper" grimm,
- john sheppard,
- kate bishop,
- l "ryuuzaki" lawliet,
- lagertha,
- leo fitz,
- lily potter,
- luke skywalker,
- maria hill,
- miles edgeworth,
- mr. gold (rumplestiltskin),
- natasha romanoff,
- nathan petrelli,
- odessa knutson,
- pepper potts,
- peter parker,
- porthos,
- remus lupin,
- rey,
- robb stark,
- robin hood,
- severus snape,
- sirius black,
- thomas,
- tobias "four" eaton,
- william tsang
EVENT: MELPOMENE ▒ HOME
CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: Corridors in the belly of the Tranquility
WARNINGS: Creepiness, disturbing imagery, violence, etc.
SUMMARY: Characters discover slices of sanctuary deep in the maze.
NOTES: Open to all! Covers Stage Four of the plot & Escape.
LOCATION: Corridors in the belly of the Tranquility
WARNINGS: Creepiness, disturbing imagery, violence, etc.
SUMMARY: Characters discover slices of sanctuary deep in the maze.
NOTES: Open to all! Covers Stage Four of the plot & Escape.
You've been running and fighting for what feels like weeks now. Exhausted and desperate, you find another door, stumbling through into— You're home, finally, far away and safe from monsters or spaceships. You're not alone, someone here who's been waiting for you, and they're so happy to see you. Relief overcomes you; you just want to rest, and there's no reason to believe anything here isn't what it seems, is there? |
sirius black || mostly open!
There are four four-posters. Four bedside tables, four trunks, decorated in scratched-in letters, nameplates, stickers. The room smells comfortable--a little musty, a little like woodsmoke from the fire, a little like boys--the posters on the walls, the photographs that wave and smile on their own, the Quidditch pennants--books and magazines and comics and rolls of parchment, loose bits of clothing, robes and wool socks and jeans--four boys live here, comfortably, have lived here for years, and nothing about the room will ever change.
On one of the four-poster beds, Sirius sits hunched over an unfurled roll of parchment, dotted with tiny ink footsteps that are labeled with names, moving through corridors and rooms of Hogwarts castle. And with Sirius, as always, is James. Younger than Sirius, Hogwarts-aged--he fits in this room just the way that he is. Lamplight makes his glasses flash each time that he looks up at Sirius, his fingers tracing along the Marauder's Map. There is some mischief to be had here--even if you can't hear what he's saying, his grin is promise enough of that. It isn't yet after hours, but it will be very soon. And Sirius stares down at the map, glassy-eyed, but grinning, vaguely, in return.]
no subject
The stab of disappointment may not be a betrayal, quite, but it probably is cruel.
James is right, though. James is someone he knows, exactly the way he remembers. Impossible, but so should all of this be.
Remus sits on the edge of an adjacent bed—his bed, his discarded clothing bundled on top of his trunk, his parents smiling at him from the nightstand, his books toppled stack of books piled haphazardly on the floor beside it—and watches, uncertain but hopeful, silent. Even if he knew what to say, he wouldn't be able to say it just yet. ]
no subject
But that particular sound belongs to Remus, as familiar as the sound of him turning over at night, as familiar as the tread of his footsteps--even if he's older now, if the weight of the war and its aftermath have changed him, stooped his shoulders and greyed his hair and left lines on his face that Sirius can't account for, because he wasn't there for them. Not yet. He knows, without looking up, that it's Remus, and not the Remus that belongs in this scene. That makes it more difficult to pretend that he belongs, that the whole of the Tranquility wasn't just some mad dream after too many chocolate frogs and crisps and six rounds of butterbeer.
Without looking up, finally, he speaks to Remus.]
Wotcher, Lupin.
[Affected slang. Sirius was taught to speak in crisp accents; he's always done his best to sluff it off. Beside him, on the bed, James shifts to look up at Remus, with a grin that's probably too familiar, and, tiredly, Sirius looks up at him as well, his smile an echo of the one that James wears.]
It's nearly after hours.
no subject
This one means do you have a plan. Because Remus is running on fumes but also on hope, always, and he knows they aren't at Hogwarts but he doesn't yet know that James isn't here, with them, wherever they are. He hasn't sorted out that he isn't the one who needs rescue, instead of Sirius.
... So this is going to go badly. ]
Yeah, it would be. [ If they were really at Hogwarts. His tone is agreeably noncommital. He picks up a model from his nightstand—Dai Llewellyn, national hero, frozen with a Quaffle in his arms—and it comes to life in his hands and zips off across the room. ] Big plans?
no subject
[Always, James echoes, like nothing is amiss, and there's a little bit of his usual bravado in his tone. That's a hair-rumpling tone, that stupid finger-comb that he always does. He doesn't do it now, but that's because there's work to be done--or at least, that's the reason Sirius gives to himself when James looks away from Remus, like he can't focus on him. He looks away and so Sirius does as well, following James's gaze, like a mirror double of him. Without looking at Remus, he answers for James--]
Stash of dungbombs that we've got to fetch.
[We, in this room, means four people, exactly. Messieurs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. The fact that Peter isn't here should be more jarring than it is. Sirius finds that he hasn't really thought of Peter, that he doesn't care. Thinking his name is a little jarring.
If he thinks about it, for longer than a minute, Sirius knows this can't be real. But he also knows that he doesn't care. Not yet, not now. He's content to stay here.
And then, James says, as he unfolds another bit of the map, well, I'm open to suggestions for their placement.]
Think we can help with that. [Sirius taps one section of the map, with a superior air.] Starting here. Slytherin common room. Always a good place.
[He stares down at the Map, watching the footprints move themselves around corridors he knows better than the back of his own hand.]
If we go out that door, it'll be there.
[That's to Remus, even if he's still not looking at him. If he doesn't look at Remus directly, he doesn't have to make sense of how he doesn't fit in the room--too old, different clothes--and he doesn't have to think about how he doesn't fit, either.]
no subject
So he's listening, but he's also taking the photograph of his parents off his nightstand, removing it from the frame, and quietly folding it into a pocket of the coat he borrowed from the zombie-infested Macy's. He doesn't take his eyes off James long—looking past his stupid hair and his mischievous grin for the smaller things that were already falling out of his memory, because he'd never thought he needed to commit them to it—but his wonder fades the longer Sirius goes on talking, until he's frowning at them both. ]
It won't be.
[ No dungbombs, no common room, no Slytherins. ]
You have to come back with us. [ —to James, but his attention shifts quickly. ] Sirius?
no subject
Remus's denial gets James to look up, first, with a frown that's closer to a scowl--but still familiar, as if some minor fallacy were just pointed out to him. Back, he repeats, incredulously, what, downstairs? Because yeah, obviously, we'll have to, to leave, and meanwhile, Sirius stares fixedly at dot labeled PERDITA VANCE, wandering down the charms corridor.]
Don't.
[Because downstairs is a real place, one that they can walk to. And it will be the castle outside that door, the narrow stairway up from the common room--and then out the portrait hole, blow kisses to the Fat Lady and go, because nothing has been ruined yet, because everything is good, even with the threat of war and destruction on the horizon. This is a world you can live in.]
We can stay here. [It's probably cowardly. He says it anyways, as he reaches to unfold another bit of the Map.
Boring, James counters, instantly, and he narrows his eyes at Remus as if daring him to challenge it, or propose something else. There's a little too much aggression in it. What's wrong with you two?]
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It's all right. [ Placating, for James' sake, like he's talking to a child. He is talking to a child. ] We're not staying here. [ That's for Sirius—not harsh, exactly, but with an undertone of what the fuck is wrong with you.
Dai Llewellyn swings back around the room, over the top of the bed curtains and down between James and Sirius, hanging from his broom by his ankles, and Remus catches him out of the air and holds him still. (He could pocket the model, too, with the photograph and the folded front page of the Prophet, but if he starts collecting trinkets from this room he won't be able to stop. None of it will survive the maze collapse, anyway.) ]
We can't miss the jump. We can't leave Lily.
[ James wouldn't want them to. ]
Sirius, look at me.
no subject
he sees the two and feels like he's intruding. he recognizes it as sirius' memory before he even sees him, too. but sirius is as he is now, and he's been shoved in a few of these scenes already to notice what's real and what isn't. ]
Sirius? [ he calls softly, edging towards the bed. ]
no subject
So is it more jarring, or less, to look up and see a face that doesn't belong here at all? Someone from the Tranquility, and his name filters back to Sirius quite quickly--Ned, who does pies, who can do any sort of pie that you like. It's like looking at a crowd in a shop and seeing one of your professors patiently waiting to buy a Fanged Frisbee--they don't belong, yeah, but you also can't make sense of seeing them here.
James doesn't look up. He's too focused on the Map. But Sirius blinks, slowly, at Ned.]
Yeah? [And then, a little uncertainly--] What are you doing here?
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[ it's spills out of his mouth all at once and he needs to amend his statement. ] I mean. This. This exact-- This is real, I remember it. From your memory, but now. We're not.
I think we're still on the ship.
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Peter, there's something about Peter to remember. Something about thinking that name makes Ned's face twist, in Sirius' eyes, change, and he looks away, looks out the window--
The ship. But when he looks out the window, he can see the orange-red of the autumn evening sky, clear of clouds. Out there, the trees are bare of their leaves, and the air will be crisp and smell of rotting leaves and woodsmoke and cold.]
It's Hogwarts.
[--Or at least, that's what he begins to say, but James looks up with a slight frown. Sorry-- who are you?]
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It is, but it isn't. You're older now, just-- you didn't know me then. [ his voice is gentle, trying to ease sirius out of this delusion, knowing somehow that he can't leave until then and that might mean sirius gets trapped too. ]