Who: Lupin, everyone to whom I owe a log, and a few I don't ;-) (Sorry for medleyizing!)
When: After the official golem all-clear-but missing Bella's return post.
Where: see below
Format: Anything you like
What: Lupin walks off former bedriddenness. Hunts down folks where forge messaging feels insufficient.
Warnings: These are just starting points
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Comments 52
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So having someone coming into the ruins to look for him did not register as a "good thing."
"That depends on exactly what you want to talk about."
He remains hidden. No offense Lupin, but he hasn't stayed alive this long by implicitly trusting everyone who says "I'm not gonna hurt you." You'll have to earn it.
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"I'm given to understand," said Lupin, still loudly to be audible over the wind, but otherwise as if they were talking over tea in a drawing room somewhere, "that my recent… injury, was the opportunity used to turn opinion against you. I just felt I… owed you. To say I'm sorry for that. And I may have some understanding of your situation."
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"You are the only person I have ever met to apologize for being stabbed in the throat." He will never be anything but blunt. "It's not as though you had any choice in the matter. As for my 'situation' - I have no idea what you're talking about."
He knows exactly what Lupin means. He's just hoping he's wrong.
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Seeing himself injured didn't trouble him or didn't register. It was Io, all her-her panic and outrage and anguish-seeing her covered in blood again, in this incarnation of herself, in this world, and whether this was a rational thought or not be damned it was because of him…-was what nearly made him throw the forge aside. He stuck to the purpose and watched with white-knuckled calm.
He didn't know anything about the group called Claymores; hadn't even met any of them (while conscious) before. Still, Deneve's clothing, maybe a uniform, and if so, was one he associated with the Patrol.
This was certainly observer bias, probably racial profiling. He couldn't help some kind of smile at being on the other side of it. Like right now, as he stood in HQ and addressed the first woman he saw in the same uniform. "Excuse me."
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[ooc: we talked about this a while ago, but I'm not sure we really settled on it...? So if I should change this in any way, let me know and I'd be more than glad!]
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So when he came up to find that there was someone sitting at his favoured table, his brows drew together and he found himself scowling down at an unwanted familiar head.
"You're in my seat."
((ooc: I totally want to do it and this is totally fine! ♥))
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[ooc: :D! ]
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"I don't remember loaning it to you," he sneered, moving to finally sit, eying the tea warily.
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Something to do with the bullets he'd stolen a look at before leaving the Clinic-the ones that had been removed from Io and Scar when he and Riza dragged them in.
Something to do with the sensation of the recent combat, remembering another.
So much to do with Lestrange.
(Brainstop.)
A bit reckless, Lupin walked through the Dismas with the same unconcern he'd had in the Ruins. He even had his wand out, this time; lumos-lit to show the way. He used Moony's tracking, his wand's memory of spellcasting on Heine, and occasionally even asking around. He didn't worry about being conspicuous. If he couldn't find Heine, maybe Heine would find him.
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(He's forgotten. Again.)
He'd left Dismas for only hours at a time, once to make sure that his arm actually healed correctly and again to talk to that woman and Scar. It hadn't gone that badly, admittedly, but he still didn't want to think about actually talking to more people for another week at least. Which is why he's still underground now, and catching sight of unnatural light on the streets nearby, moving away as quickly as he can.
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