[open] Time it is past and I roam free

[lumenrelegandus]

Who: lumenrelegandus and anyone
When: Early in the week
Where: The dojo, the streets, the path toward the Ruins and/or Hunting Grounds.
Format: Prose
What: As if any loss weren't bad on its own, sometimes it opens up past ones.
Warnings: I'm being bad for posting a new log without doing any tags for ongoing threads! I have company for a few days and am semi-

Comments

[femininehermes]

The moment she saw him, she knew something was wrong. Hermione had seen that look before, though there was no way she could possibly give it a name. Loss, despair, deepest grief: all of those words barely brushed the surface of what she saw on Remus's face. Before she could logically think about what to do, she was picking up the pace and running towards him.

"Re-Remus?!" her voice sounded shrill even to her ears, but she needed to stop him before he did something drastic, "What..." she reached out to touch his arm, "Tell me..." she held her hand over his arm, carefully watching his reaction. She didn't want to rile him more than he already was. Besides, there was no guarantee that she would be welcomed in his presence right now.

Still, she wanted to help.

"It's okay." she lowered her voice, "Whatever happened, it..."

Will be okay? How could she say that?

"I'll help you work through it." she rephrased, her expression solemn, "You're not alone."

[lumenrelegandus]

He turned to look at her-

-no, this wasn't right; he was the one meant to offer comfort and support to her

-she was clever, exceptionally so, and older than anyone usually treated her, but she was still young and deserving of… ¿parentsteachers? …the chance not to be in charge, not to be the adult

that ship's long sailed for her you know it

-there are lines you do not cross even when students aren't students, even when they're friends

-stop thinking of her as anything but herself

-stop thinking.

Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on a nearby ledge; reaching for the hand she had offered him, he drew her into a one-armed hug. And closed his eyes against her shoulder.

[femininehermes]

Relief battled with shock when she felt herself pulled into a hug. There had been a good chance that he might have fled from her or tried to brush his feelings off. She was exceptionally glad that he hadn't done that. Burying grief just made it worse.

She...knew that better than she should.

Inhaling shallowly, Hermione wrapped her arms around him and gave him what silent comfort she could. She had no idea what to say. But maybe words weren't what was needed? How many times had she simply held Harry or Ginny when things had fallen apart? Sometimes, human contact could have a profound effect.

[lumenrelegandus]

For some long moments-could be half a minute, could be five-he relaxed into the contact and savoured the forgotten sensation of breathing.

When he'd arrived in Anatole, literally half dead, he'd needed the anchor that Io had provided: a reminder, a guide, a tow-line back toward life. He'd been woken by (Bellatrix) hate and running on enraged, insane magicks, which had made him more animated than he'd have been on his own residual lifeforce or will; the magic could have burned up what was left of him and taken on a life of its own-(as was his guess of what had happened to the veneficus of Anatole). Who knows what he would have become-an inferi at least-if Io, a complete stranger, hadn't caught him and hung on, unwittingly poured life into him until he came back to himself and took charge of his body again

[impossibly]

River had been sitting on the stone for some time, waiting. A place where paths could meet, she had felt it humming like a leyline under her bare soles until she followed it to where she was needed.

Elsewhere in the city unreadable women whose swords hit too close to home were drawing blood. River could taste it in the air, drenching the landscape like a bloody sunset. But the squabbles of monsters was nothing more than a bruise compared to the rawness she could feel Remus scraping over her as he came down the path.

There was a debt owed (My turn) from all the times at the dojo he had patiently, painstakingly, pieced together her jigsaw all of sky, picking up pieces the exact same shade of blue and fumbling them to where they belonged. The cracks are still there, aching, glaring when held up against - she'd thrown her Forge again, first arcana, fourth month, worst invasion. But then she'd watched it again, compulsively, biting her lip so hard that it bled

[lumenrelegandus]

He had a fantastic idea of coming on her dancing in the wild, long hair mingling with the branching shadows, feet not caring they were bare, She lightly fled on dancing feet And left him lonely still to roam In the silent forest listening. They were all of other worlds, here, but River was straight from some other galaxy.

"Yet knowing how way leads on to way," he murmured back, not knowing if it was strictly the same quote as hers, "I doubted if I should ever come back."

He looked down at their joined hands. He thought of sitting, seeing if she sat beside him; or of kneeling before her, for absolution; but felt just enough energy at the touch to keep flying walking. So he squeezed her fingers in invitation to go forward, without releasing hands, together.

"We shouldn't be here, you know," he said, making no move to lead them elsewhere.

[impossibly]

River goes with him, or leads him, or falls into step: whichever, they are moving, slowly, like learning to walk, toe touching the ground before her heel like she's testing the way ahead, ankles with a ballerina's curve. They seem to be leaving the hewn path completely. She will walk the circumference of the city, never delving further into danger or back to civilization, hovering at a mid-point, splicing the two-fold path, the middle way.

"I learn by going where I have to go," River says, now quoting something else entirely. "This shaking keeps me steady. I should know."

It is obvious the way that Remus trembles on unsteady foundations, but she wants it in words, solid, definable, even if they are to be words she cannot truly understand. "I am exactly where I should be," she tells him. "Are you?"

[lumenrelegandus]

He has never once lied to her. It's the rawness of this honesty that's new.

"I've rarely felt I belonged anywhere. I get along better here than many places I've been… but to what purpose?"

An adolescent feeling, he thinks, but unshakable.

"I believe that one thing happens after another because of a culmination of factors that are largely uncontrollable, unforeseeable, and unseen. We must act with purpose in the hopes of influencing causality with the nuance of our intentions, but it doesn't mean there is a larger plan.

"Except that we were brought here. Brought. Even if on a whim, there is agency in that

[couragetodare]

Technically, you can't grieve over someone who isn't dead. Technically, he isn't grieving at all. Sakura isn't here, she left behind two new kittens, one empty bed, a ring that Naruto was still working up the courage to give her, but she's somewhere, even if she is not here. In the meantime he can fill the hole in his chest by looking for her, every waking moment

[lumenrelegandus]

Where would I begin

Lupin looks up. He should feel guilty, maybe, but doesn't. This isn't Sakura's office/room any more. He'd come back here, just to sit in the space, and make her absence real to him, so that he could come back to work tomorrow and have it accepted.

Naruto's face and voice tell nothing -- a fact that speaks volumes itself. "If there's one thing an old man can recognise, it's a young man in love". If there's one thing a widower can recognise -

The knowledge is useless. It only gives Lupin the foresight of what not to say, and how little effect he could have anyway.

Useless or not, his acute understanding not just of Sakura's loss but the total devastation it leaves behind is all there for Naruto in: "I know."

Lupin stands creakily, without moving toward the other man. "Are you Naruto?"

so sorry for the horrible delay here. ;;

[couragetodare]

This man understands. The realisation is brief but sweeping, and for someone like Naruto who has always trusted his heart and his gut, it is not questioned. It gives him pause all the same, the whisper of a why echoing in the back of his mind.

Why does this man understand? What happened to him?

He doesn't voice those questions, even if they sit at the top of his throat for a few protracted moments. Instead he offers Lupin a nod. "Uzumaki Naruto." And a beat. "You're Remus Lupin."

It isn't a question as such, and in the moment after it Naruto steps closer to the man (a stranger, everyone is a stranger here now) and offers a handshake. This man (this stranger) knew Sakura. Sakura knew him and she respected him and Naruto isn't so buried in grief and denial that he will not tender a greeting.

"You don't need to stand..." Because there's something in this person that feels tired, to Naruto.

No worries! Me too!!!

[lumenrelegandus]

Grasping and releasing Naruto's hand, Lupin takes his word and lowers himself back into his sea. Then holds out a hand toward the vacant opposite one. "Then would you like to sit?"