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wandandawolfNot for the first time in his life, Remus got up and looked at London. The Ministry had arranged for a stipend and an apartment in town: and with typical Ministry efficiency and precision had gotten him a flat in one of the new developments in Docklands, not far from Canary Wharf. It was the sort of thing that most people would be fighting over in an auction and the Ministry thought it wasn't 'too flash' because most of their maps of Muggle London dated from the 1860s.
So in the morning, Remus had a cup of tea, some fruit with yoghurt from the fridge, and simply sat on the couch in a dressing gown and enjoyed the view. The city spread out below into the distance: he could see grey city block after grey block, with the London Eye and Westminister tucked in behind the Eye, and the Thames winding through the landscape. It was all so different, and every morning, it was all so present. Sirius would have loved exploring it, until he got bored, and Lily and James would have taken Harry to all the museums, and - no.
Not for the first time of late, Remus felt a stranger in his own town. So after breakfast, he did his usual: he showered, slapped on some clothes, and prowled the streets a little with his wand tucked away safely. He had a notebook with him, and a pencil, with a list of all the shops and places he remembered from 1980, and he was slowly working through and crossing most of them off....
A wizard-friendly jewelers his father had liked to used was still trading, and the son-of-the-father who had served Remus' father remembered him. But all Remus could think about there was his mother's wedding ring, and the little locket he'd bought Lily and the spells he'd bound into it, and so he walked on.
In the other pocket of his tweed jacket, he had a battered copy of Milton. There wasn't much to do with his days other than park himself at a cafe and read, nursing a pot of cooling tea for hours. He had to decide something at some point, he knew he did. Just not yet.
It had been a bustling Friday, for all the sharpness of the wind: Londoners out and about, tourists thronging the pavement, a mix of scents and sounds to assault the senses. Easier to stick his nose in a book and shut it all out.
The evening crept up on him gradually, and Remus curled the thick scarf he had around his neck, jamming a flat cap on and tugging on some gloves. They only lasted until he found the nearest pub, a hive and dive of pretty young things doing what pretty young things did best. Standing at the bar, he perused the liquors on display, before selecting something that looked a vile yellow. He didn't easily get drunk thanks to a certain enhanced constitution, but trying to get absolutely wasted had more appeal these days than it used to.
"Augh," was his reaction: it was sickly-sweet and so, so strong. "That is absolutely vile, and I will definitely have another." He grinned at the person next to him, a little manic, a little too desperate to be joyous: "Would you like to join me?" Money was not a problem. Company was.
[Have a Remus. Feel free to meet him anywhere on his journey: bump into him on the street, find him at a cafe, or chat to him in a pub. Most supernatural types should tell he's a lycanthrope wizard a mile away.]
So in the morning, Remus had a cup of tea, some fruit with yoghurt from the fridge, and simply sat on the couch in a dressing gown and enjoyed the view. The city spread out below into the distance: he could see grey city block after grey block, with the London Eye and Westminister tucked in behind the Eye, and the Thames winding through the landscape. It was all so different, and every morning, it was all so present. Sirius would have loved exploring it, until he got bored, and Lily and James would have taken Harry to all the museums, and - no.
Not for the first time of late, Remus felt a stranger in his own town. So after breakfast, he did his usual: he showered, slapped on some clothes, and prowled the streets a little with his wand tucked away safely. He had a notebook with him, and a pencil, with a list of all the shops and places he remembered from 1980, and he was slowly working through and crossing most of them off....
A wizard-friendly jewelers his father had liked to used was still trading, and the son-of-the-father who had served Remus' father remembered him. But all Remus could think about there was his mother's wedding ring, and the little locket he'd bought Lily and the spells he'd bound into it, and so he walked on.
In the other pocket of his tweed jacket, he had a battered copy of Milton. There wasn't much to do with his days other than park himself at a cafe and read, nursing a pot of cooling tea for hours. He had to decide something at some point, he knew he did. Just not yet.
It had been a bustling Friday, for all the sharpness of the wind: Londoners out and about, tourists thronging the pavement, a mix of scents and sounds to assault the senses. Easier to stick his nose in a book and shut it all out.
The evening crept up on him gradually, and Remus curled the thick scarf he had around his neck, jamming a flat cap on and tugging on some gloves. They only lasted until he found the nearest pub, a hive and dive of pretty young things doing what pretty young things did best. Standing at the bar, he perused the liquors on display, before selecting something that looked a vile yellow. He didn't easily get drunk thanks to a certain enhanced constitution, but trying to get absolutely wasted had more appeal these days than it used to.
"Augh," was his reaction: it was sickly-sweet and so, so strong. "That is absolutely vile, and I will definitely have another." He grinned at the person next to him, a little manic, a little too desperate to be joyous: "Would you like to join me?" Money was not a problem. Company was.
[Have a Remus. Feel free to meet him anywhere on his journey: bump into him on the street, find him at a cafe, or chat to him in a pub. Most supernatural types should tell he's a lycanthrope wizard a mile away.]
