oh, cruel fate

I wanted to do a starter call but not sure if I should?? And it’s because tbh, I am not certain of where Remus stands. It’s one of those things about joining an rp that has been going on for a while where you are kind of unsure of how your characters fits in everything and you are just like....Awkwardly standing there. And I’ve been part of rps that I had to leave because I didn’t feel like I was a good fit but I love Remus and the idea behind Crimson so I refuse to end up letting go because I’m awkward and don’t know how to reach out. 

So here is the tea: I don’t know how to fit Remus in this plot but I really want to  do so. If y’all have ideas for any sort of thing and you need someone to plot them with, I’m your pal. Like this post or just message me if you have any ideas you could see working for your character and Remus cause I would like everyone’s starter calls but....I wouldn’t know what to offer you. 

don’t die on me!

Remus winced as he leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He appriciated that Septima wasn’t leaving him behind, even if he was sure she was clever enough to get away injured. 

don’t die on me!

Remus stayed silent, looking down at the big bruise on his ribs. They were probably broken, they hurt like hell and perhaps it had been a little stupid to not say anything before hand but really, it was not as if they had time to spare. 

“I’ve had worse, trust me.” Remus said, still not looking at the other because....Because it was Kingsley. And there was just something about him that made it really, really difficult to look him in the eye after doing something stupid. And this, even if Remus still thought it was the best thing, was stupid. Damaged bones weren’t easy to mend even with magic, specially if you didn’t treat them fast enough. “Then how am I supposed to act?” He asked, a frown appearing on his features, fists clenching into fists. “The world is falling apart, should I just...Break down? We don’t have time for that! We don’t get the luxury to complain about every ache and bruise, do we? We have to...” Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

He was tired. mentally, physically. He was exhausted. But wars didn’t care if soldiers needed a nap, they just kept going; a never ending stream of chaos. 

To say that Marlene was handling things poorly would, at any point in time, be a horrifically massive understatement. Healthy coping mechanisms had never exactly been her strong suit, but they had at least been prone to less life-threatening risk in the Before. It would undoubtedly sound totally batshit to anyone hearing her reference her life in the separate halves she had grown accustomed to calling them. Her own little inside phrasing, the Before and After…to most it probably came across as nothing more than war jargon, if they were to hear the phrase. But Marlene had firsthand accounts of the cruelty of the Death Eaters, of the Black elders. Her very own Before and After.

Even a year before - fuckin’ mad, it hasn’t even been a year - Marlene’s ways of handling things would have been a  magnanimous different method to the way she ‘coped’ with them now. Reckless behavior and a cheeky grin to accompany all actions was the way she survived. Prank after prank, taking shots and partying to her heart’s content being called 'uncontrollable’ and a disgrace by her family…it never got to her. The redhead of the McKinnon children was a  very hard one to hurt. Or at least, she had been. In the Before.

Now her coping was more or less avoidance, but Irish stubborn pride and her determination not to be controlled all left her refusing to even think of it. So she never slept and drank the nights away; hangovers were shockingly numb once you got used to them. So her nailbeds would always be bruised and tinged with pink from agitation, a nervous habit that had manifested in the After. At least she was still alive. Being stared at like a pariah at every opportunity by people that couldn’t forgive her honesty, couldn’t try to help her atone the blind determination her teenage self had in joining Aversio. She was trying, why did that mean nothing?

It was easier to stay busy than to allow moments to dwell. If left inside her mind for too long the voices would emerge and then, well– then, Marlene McKinnon would fall down her own dark and decrepit rabbit hole. So she took overnight shifts in the Leaky so Tom could sleep, spent her waking hours doing whatever possible not to think. Caffeine and alcohol shared an equal part of her bloodstream but there were worse things, and the delirium that came with chronic insomnia was more manageable than Ted Tonks would ever like to hear about.

“– Shit.” Profanity. Another in the long list of second natures. Yet whatever was preparing to spew forth faltered when her eyes finally fixated on the person across from her, mind piecing it together. “– Lupin. No harm, no foul, don’t worry about it.” She shrugged, drawing her arms together. “You doin’ alright?”

It wasn’t a funny question. Remus knew it wasn’t a funny question. It was just a question, something to start a conversation, words that were normal, a natural thing to say when seeing a person and yet, Remus felt like laughing. Because it was so ridiculous to think about how there was a time when a simple yes would be the right and honest answer. A time when his alright would be messed up just by that one History of Magic essay that was due Friday and that he hadn’t started yet. How long ago it all seemed, how old he felt at eighteen, how tired.

“I’m holding up.” He replied, not wanting to blatantly lie and say yes because really, in the world they were living, who in the hell was truly okay? But then again, he didn’t feel like explaining how he was really not alright, knowing all too well than other people didn’t need to carry the weight of his troubles. Bad news were common enough, everyone had their own baggage to carry around.  “What about you?” He continued, just cause it was the polite thing to ask, the normal thing and really, a little bit of boring small talk was something Remus didn’t mind. It was a sort of comfort in the chaos. “Sorry again for bumping into you, I need to be more careful.”

Sleep seemed to elude Edgar, or perhaps it was he that subconsciously eluded sleep. He liked to be awake at night, to listen intently to the quiet darkness and watch the shadows move under the moon’s soft yellow glow. Ink would often stain his hands as he wrote; he was far more productive after the sun slipped away. This habit did not help Edgar with his early morning job at the coffee shop, yet the lack of sleep was ingrained so deeply within him that he found himself up whether he was working or not.  

The cafe happened to be directly under his flat, so at least there was an element of convenience involved. Edgar rarely made his own coffee nowadays, preferring to seek out the busy background noise and pretend he had company. As much as he liked to be alone, after a while alone inevitably became lonely.  This way he could still be social without really needing to socialise too, which was endlessly appealing. The shop, although never particularly busy, had a nice ambiance; cozy and welcoming. It was homely in a way his own flat couldn’t be, not without Amelia anyway. 

Lost in thought, Edgar wandered into the shop, ordering his drink without really paying attention. His order was the same every morning and notoriously impossible to mess up; if you worked in a coffee shop and couldn’t make a simple americano, then there wasn’t a lot of hope for you. Scalding beverage in hand, Edgar made his way over to his favourite table. Tucked tightly in the corner, it allowed for him to maintain an illusion of privacy. However, a sudden interruption in the form of an apologetic person and his burning hot coffee spilling over his hand and soaking through his t-shirt stopped Edgar from reaching his desired destination. 

“It’s, uh, fine.” He waved them off, unconvincingly hiding his obvious pain. Looking up, Edgar’s eyes widened slightly. He knew Remus Lupin, of course, most wizards did. They hadn’t spoken much at Hogwarts, with him being slightly older and in a different house, but the other man’s group of friends had certainly made an impact. “I’m half-asleep too so you’re not totally to blame.” His mouth crooked into a small smile at Remus’ ramblings; he knew what it was like to have your mind working a mile a minute, even if he didn’t voice it. “Nothing I can’t fix, don’t worry about it.” Edgar had definitely had worse, there was a war going on, after all. “I was, um, just going to sit, would you like to join me?” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not used to making much of an effort in social situations, particularly with people he didn’t really know. However, Remus looked tired and slightly troubled and what kind of Hufflepuff would Edgar be if he let him remain that way? 

Well, shit. Remus thought. As much as he appreciated the attempt at hiding the pain and not making too much of a fuss, Remus knew that there was no way that having coffee spilled in your hand and clothes was in any capacity okay. In fact, it was the opposite of okay. It was bad and surely it hurt like all hell. Really, this guy had all the right to go off and curse Remus entire family if he so wished to and Remus would’ve....Wait. He knew this guy from somewhere, did he not? School! And Order meetings. Though he had never really talked much to him other than a few greetings and goodbyes here and there. What was his name? Come on, brain.

“Edgar!” And he begged to Merlin and his beard that he was correct and hadn’t messed up because it was enough to accidentally spill coffee on someone, messing up their name would be horrific. “I’m really sorry.” Remus said, letting out a wince, looking at the stained shirt and the hand. Oh fuck, the hand. “Well, a broken bone you can fix but that isn’t nice. And this isn’t either, I’m really, really sorry. I’ll make it up to you! A cookie? A muffin? Not this one, of course, I bit into it already you wouldn’t want a half eaten muffin. Unless you are not that hungry but then again, why would you eat someone else’s muffin if you weren’t hungry?” He sighed, shaking his head as he stopped himself from talking. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be allowed to drink coffee.” He added, chuckling nervously. This was not the best way to start talking to someone.

“Oh....” Now that was surprising. Remus was sure the other would just dismiss him and never talk to him again but he was being so nice and calm about the whole situation that Remus could just....Blink a couple of times, surprised. “Um....Sure, yes.” He answered with a light nod. “That would be better than my plan to go home and die of boredom.”

What? He didn’t knew. Just something. Anything. A call to arms, a mission, something to keep him busy rather than leaving him on his own to get lost in his thoughts of how things were not working or how his fridge was starting to look a little empty but he didn’t want to ask James to help him....Again. Which made him think about how difficult it was to keep a job because of course, this war and the fucking moon always kept him from having a normal schedule and it was not fucking fair but he had to deal with it, he guessed because no one apparently gave that much of a crap about his empty pockets; he still had to pay for things and keep up with this mess of a war that didn’t seem to want to ever stop and left Remus wondering about how much easier it would be to run off to Australia and find a kangaroo friend to spend his time with but of course, he had no money to get there which sucked major ass and....

“A small black coffee please. And a muffin, thanks.” He really shouldn’t be spending his sickles in more coffee. His brain was running wild and he needed a break from it but, alas, Remus waited for his order to be ready, going then for the creamer and four packets of sugar, stirring it all before heading outside, the muffin in his mouth and his wild train of thought starting all over again. Australia....Yes, it would be nice and warm. Dealing with a few insects here and there wouldn’t be so bad and maybe if he found a good part time job somewhere with really flexible hours, then maybe he could....

“Fuck!” He said. Or he tried. With his mouth full of muffin it wasn’t very easy to curse but he had managed to not drop his too bitter coffee, even with creamer and sugar. “Sorry.” Again, it came out as a sound more than a word so he swallowed, pulled the muffin out of his mouth. “Sorry.” He repeated, licking his lips. “Totally my bad, I am more asleep than awake and I was thinking about kangaroos and how nice it would be to have a nice tan and um....Yeah, my mind was elsewhere.” He added, clearing his throat, cheeks pink. “Are you okay?”