RP: Crossing The Divide
Characters: Fenrir Greyback, Sam Kennerly (NPC)
Date: 28 November 1999, 1 am
Location: The Gallagher, a dock in Heybridge Basin
Summary: Sam and Fenrir exchange the fishing boat for a magical vessel.
Status/Warning: Closed/None
Completion: Complete
Scanning the docks of Heybridge Basin, Fenrir's eyes finally focused on a familiar small ship. The defenses weren't anything he couldn't get around, it was mostly to ward away Muggles. Anything more would have attracted notice, and that was not something Nessy was built for.
Fenrir left the bridge for a moment to check on Sam. They'd spent time during their days at sea cleaning out the cabins so that they were virtually spotless. Keeping the boy occupied seemed to put his mind at ease, though Fenrir really had very little sympathy at all. For some reason he felt he needed to hold onto Sam. After all, there weren't many people left in the world who might be friendly towards him, let alone call him friend. Friendship could be an awfully silly waste of time, though he'd learned from time spent among the magical creatures of the world that two could accomplish far more than one alone.
He found Sam curled up on his bunk clutching a blanket. It was late at night, probably an hour or so after midnight. Sam hadn't gotten much sleep, only finally succumbing to heavy eyelids when exhaustion came over him. More than once Fenrir had heard him scream through horrible dreams. Fenrir had laid awake until Sam's pleas for help ceased, quietly chuckling to himself. Pain is the only way to learn, Sam should be thankful that I'm such an expert teacher. Standing over the boy, he took a moment to take him into account. Definitely sixteen, he constantly wore a gray hoodie that was slightly too big for him. A bit underfed and overworked, the young hands already had callouses on them that had opened and bled from the work he'd been doing. The skin on his hands was raw from the cleaning chemicals they'd been using on the ship... the boy was working his body into nothingness.
Fenrir touched Sam on the shoulder without any effect. Gently shaking him did nothing. Not especially known for his patience, Fenrir pounded the bunk with a fist that made Sam momentarily levitate a few inches in the air. Sam made a startled yelp, "Ah! Oh, sir, uh, er, um, what happened? Is everything alright?" His eyes suddenly shook off the sleep and became exceptionally wide, "Are we... are we under attack again? I don't want to die..."
"Oh stop whining. We're not under attack, and we won't be. I told you that the last time you asked me, and the time before that. Just trust me, no one is going to lay a hand on you while I'm around," Fenrir's eyes had an odd gleam in them that disappeared when he winked. "I woke you because I found my ship and I wanted you to see it."
"Y-your ship? You have a ship? I thought we were just going to shore, and well, um, I don't know after that. Shouldn't we tell someone what happened?"
Fenrir was already out the door of the cabin. Sam looked at the empty door, hoping that he'd return so... so what? So he could cry again? He felt so useless and weak, and still he had no idea what had really happened. The only thing he knew was that this man had come to his rescue in the middle of one of the worst storms at sea Sam had ever seen. He put on a dry pair of socks and gathered up his bag. Standing at the door for a moment he sighed, looking back at the six empty bunks. For some reason, he felt as if he was about to leave something behind. With one last glance Sam sighed and stepped out the door.
Fenrir was already at the helm, guiding The Gallagher into dock. Sam jumped off and tied the ship to the pier. As he looked around, he noticed something really odd. There were no other ships.
"Um, sir? Are you sure your ship is here? I mean... I don't see anything. And I get the feeling I don't really belong here. I think we should leave... right now maybe."
Fenrir leaped off and landed next to Sam, "Nonsense. Its right there." He began walking straight across the pier to the other side and then jumped off. Sam's eyes bugged out. He could have sworn there was no ship there.
Running over to where Fenrir had last been standing, he tried to look and see where the ship was. No ship to the left, no ship to the right. He felt the urge to leave again, this time much stronger. "Sir, are you there? I don't see a ship anywhere... are you alright?" Suddenly he heard the man's barking laughter come from almost directly in front of him. It was mind-bogglingly weird, as if he couldn't look directly at it.
"Do you believe in magic Sam?"
Still trying to cope with his new friend being invisible somehow, Sam looked up and stammered, "Uh, um, oh, er ahhm well sir, I-I don't know if I do or don't or I guess I don't since I've never really seen magic. So is your ship cloaked or something?"
Another short laugh, "Hah, no Sam its not cloaked. The only reason you can't see it is because you're a Muggle. It means you have no magic in your blood. Sam, just jump off the pier, I'll catch you."
Sam closed his eyes for a few seconds while he thought about what to say next. He tired of not being able to see the person he was talking to while knowing with exact certainty that he was just a few feet in front of him. "You're an awfully mysterious person, sir. And... hey, I don't even know what to call you. How do you know about magic, and can you do magic? Why am I here with you, and what happened out there on the Gallagher? I think you know more about what happened than you've told me, and I want to know the truth right now! Who are you?" It all came out in a rapid-first burst before the boy could contain himself. He quickly clasped a hand over his mouth, even knowing it was too late to take back the words. In some ways he'd been curious for days to know the man's name, but in others he was afraid to find out. If anything changed, anything at all, he might lose this person who had been ... a friend. He didn't want to think of him as anything but a friend, because if he was, then he might lose grip on reality altogether.
An uneasy silence fell over the pier. If Sam wasn't extremely sure Fenrir was there he might have believed he'd imagined the whole experience and was just standing on a pier in a town he'd never heard of yelling at the ocean to give him a name and a reason for everything horrible that happened. He felt silly, and almost turned away when Fenrir spoke again, "I don't know my name, not my real one anyway. There was a time in my life when I was younger than you, and my family was attacked by werewolves. My parents and sister were killed by them, I was..." he took a moment pause and laugh under his breath as if it were an inside joke, "...spared." All of that was true.
Sam had paled about hearing the murders of his entire family, but the world 'werewolves' was still buzzing around his brain.
"That night out in the North Sea, you were attacked by a werewolf. This is because the Ministry of Magic is inept at keeping the dangerous magical creatures of the world from harming innocents. Your own government is controlled by the Ministry from behind the scenes, your Prime Minister answers to our Minister of Magic. Everything that goes wrong, when people die, when unstoppable fires erupt... all of that could be stopped by wizards and witches like myself. Instead, they keep their magic to themselves and outcast anyone who doesn't fit their social or blood criteria," everything he said still had the ring of truth.
It was so much to take in all at once, Sam's head felt like it was going to explode from all the information he was taking in. Still standing at the edge of the pier, he felt as though he were standing at the edge of a cliff, about to plummet into a world as dark and dangerous as the rocky base he imagined at the foot of the cliff.
"Here... let me show you," Fenrir's hand appeared in thin air, and suddenly Sam could see the rest of Fenrir, though he was awfully blurry. The hand opened, Sam unquestioningly put his own hand in its grasp, and suddenly he was yanked across the divide.
"My friends call me Fenrir. Welcome to my world."
Date: 28 November 1999, 1 am
Location: The Gallagher, a dock in Heybridge Basin
Summary: Sam and Fenrir exchange the fishing boat for a magical vessel.
Status/Warning: Closed/None
Completion: Complete
Scanning the docks of Heybridge Basin, Fenrir's eyes finally focused on a familiar small ship. The defenses weren't anything he couldn't get around, it was mostly to ward away Muggles. Anything more would have attracted notice, and that was not something Nessy was built for.
Fenrir left the bridge for a moment to check on Sam. They'd spent time during their days at sea cleaning out the cabins so that they were virtually spotless. Keeping the boy occupied seemed to put his mind at ease, though Fenrir really had very little sympathy at all. For some reason he felt he needed to hold onto Sam. After all, there weren't many people left in the world who might be friendly towards him, let alone call him friend. Friendship could be an awfully silly waste of time, though he'd learned from time spent among the magical creatures of the world that two could accomplish far more than one alone.
He found Sam curled up on his bunk clutching a blanket. It was late at night, probably an hour or so after midnight. Sam hadn't gotten much sleep, only finally succumbing to heavy eyelids when exhaustion came over him. More than once Fenrir had heard him scream through horrible dreams. Fenrir had laid awake until Sam's pleas for help ceased, quietly chuckling to himself. Pain is the only way to learn, Sam should be thankful that I'm such an expert teacher. Standing over the boy, he took a moment to take him into account. Definitely sixteen, he constantly wore a gray hoodie that was slightly too big for him. A bit underfed and overworked, the young hands already had callouses on them that had opened and bled from the work he'd been doing. The skin on his hands was raw from the cleaning chemicals they'd been using on the ship... the boy was working his body into nothingness.
Fenrir touched Sam on the shoulder without any effect. Gently shaking him did nothing. Not especially known for his patience, Fenrir pounded the bunk with a fist that made Sam momentarily levitate a few inches in the air. Sam made a startled yelp, "Ah! Oh, sir, uh, er, um, what happened? Is everything alright?" His eyes suddenly shook off the sleep and became exceptionally wide, "Are we... are we under attack again? I don't want to die..."
"Oh stop whining. We're not under attack, and we won't be. I told you that the last time you asked me, and the time before that. Just trust me, no one is going to lay a hand on you while I'm around," Fenrir's eyes had an odd gleam in them that disappeared when he winked. "I woke you because I found my ship and I wanted you to see it."
"Y-your ship? You have a ship? I thought we were just going to shore, and well, um, I don't know after that. Shouldn't we tell someone what happened?"
Fenrir was already out the door of the cabin. Sam looked at the empty door, hoping that he'd return so... so what? So he could cry again? He felt so useless and weak, and still he had no idea what had really happened. The only thing he knew was that this man had come to his rescue in the middle of one of the worst storms at sea Sam had ever seen. He put on a dry pair of socks and gathered up his bag. Standing at the door for a moment he sighed, looking back at the six empty bunks. For some reason, he felt as if he was about to leave something behind. With one last glance Sam sighed and stepped out the door.
Fenrir was already at the helm, guiding The Gallagher into dock. Sam jumped off and tied the ship to the pier. As he looked around, he noticed something really odd. There were no other ships.
"Um, sir? Are you sure your ship is here? I mean... I don't see anything. And I get the feeling I don't really belong here. I think we should leave... right now maybe."
Fenrir leaped off and landed next to Sam, "Nonsense. Its right there." He began walking straight across the pier to the other side and then jumped off. Sam's eyes bugged out. He could have sworn there was no ship there.
Running over to where Fenrir had last been standing, he tried to look and see where the ship was. No ship to the left, no ship to the right. He felt the urge to leave again, this time much stronger. "Sir, are you there? I don't see a ship anywhere... are you alright?" Suddenly he heard the man's barking laughter come from almost directly in front of him. It was mind-bogglingly weird, as if he couldn't look directly at it.
"Do you believe in magic Sam?"
Still trying to cope with his new friend being invisible somehow, Sam looked up and stammered, "Uh, um, oh, er ahhm well sir, I-I don't know if I do or don't or I guess I don't since I've never really seen magic. So is your ship cloaked or something?"
Another short laugh, "Hah, no Sam its not cloaked. The only reason you can't see it is because you're a Muggle. It means you have no magic in your blood. Sam, just jump off the pier, I'll catch you."
Sam closed his eyes for a few seconds while he thought about what to say next. He tired of not being able to see the person he was talking to while knowing with exact certainty that he was just a few feet in front of him. "You're an awfully mysterious person, sir. And... hey, I don't even know what to call you. How do you know about magic, and can you do magic? Why am I here with you, and what happened out there on the Gallagher? I think you know more about what happened than you've told me, and I want to know the truth right now! Who are you?" It all came out in a rapid-first burst before the boy could contain himself. He quickly clasped a hand over his mouth, even knowing it was too late to take back the words. In some ways he'd been curious for days to know the man's name, but in others he was afraid to find out. If anything changed, anything at all, he might lose this person who had been ... a friend. He didn't want to think of him as anything but a friend, because if he was, then he might lose grip on reality altogether.
An uneasy silence fell over the pier. If Sam wasn't extremely sure Fenrir was there he might have believed he'd imagined the whole experience and was just standing on a pier in a town he'd never heard of yelling at the ocean to give him a name and a reason for everything horrible that happened. He felt silly, and almost turned away when Fenrir spoke again, "I don't know my name, not my real one anyway. There was a time in my life when I was younger than you, and my family was attacked by werewolves. My parents and sister were killed by them, I was..." he took a moment pause and laugh under his breath as if it were an inside joke, "...spared." All of that was true.
Sam had paled about hearing the murders of his entire family, but the world 'werewolves' was still buzzing around his brain.
"That night out in the North Sea, you were attacked by a werewolf. This is because the Ministry of Magic is inept at keeping the dangerous magical creatures of the world from harming innocents. Your own government is controlled by the Ministry from behind the scenes, your Prime Minister answers to our Minister of Magic. Everything that goes wrong, when people die, when unstoppable fires erupt... all of that could be stopped by wizards and witches like myself. Instead, they keep their magic to themselves and outcast anyone who doesn't fit their social or blood criteria," everything he said still had the ring of truth.
It was so much to take in all at once, Sam's head felt like it was going to explode from all the information he was taking in. Still standing at the edge of the pier, he felt as though he were standing at the edge of a cliff, about to plummet into a world as dark and dangerous as the rocky base he imagined at the foot of the cliff.
"Here... let me show you," Fenrir's hand appeared in thin air, and suddenly Sam could see the rest of Fenrir, though he was awfully blurry. The hand opened, Sam unquestioningly put his own hand in its grasp, and suddenly he was yanked across the divide.
"My friends call me Fenrir. Welcome to my world."