IC Contact: Scorched (Lupin's forge)

[lumenrelegandus]

This is Remus Lupin. Please message me here for any questions regarding the Clinic or tutorials at the dojo.

If you have just arrived and know my voice, call me. I'll find you.

Sona si latine loqueris.*

Comments

[lumenrelegandus.livejournal.com]

[raises an eyebrow but does as she says. Setting himself up as plaything to the goddess; but he trusts her.]

[sonvisage.livejournal.com]

[He'll feel something square and slightly crinkling pressed into his palm. It's a small box wrapped in ribbons. Unopened so far, and the tag reads 'To R.J. Lupin, c/o Miss Iolanthe, From B & M']

[lumenrelegandus.livejournal.com]

[something about it makes his fingertips tingle. He looks up at her] B. and M.?

[sonvisage.livejournal.com]

Berend and Milena, if I am to believe anything this place tells me.

[Her ton is light]

That box. For ...wishing? I wished for this...

[And she gestures toward the phonograph.] It was that piece, that Quatre played on the network.

[Another smile.]

I also asked for something. On your behalf?

[lumenrelegandus.livejournal.com]

[So wishes had been granted… his hadn't, he hadn't expected it to be. He began to unwrap it, wondered what agenda there might be for taking requests and fulfilling—

Thoughts full stop.

The ribbons and empty box fall to the floor.

He stares at the gift in his hand.

His other hand gropes behind him, mercifully find a chair, and he shakily sits in it.

His eyes drink in the photograph. They get so full they begin to fill with tears.

He raises them to Io. The look in them is… indescribable.

She's seen him cry before—far more often than he'd prefer—but she's never seen that look before.

That blinding, unbelieving joy.

His voice shakes and breaks and sounds like… magic.]

You asked for this?

[sonvisage.livejournal.com]

[She swallows, almost takes a step back. Blinks. Wait. That's not----oh. He's happy? He's happy.]

I.

I asked for one of the moving photographs. The ones you'd described to me?

[Dipping down, crouching in front of him, head tilted. Blinking again.]

[lumenrelegandus.livejournal.com]

[for a second seems like it might be sobbing—but no, no, he's quite definitely laughing. Those clever terrifying twins. This damn verhuddling world. He loves it more than he ever thought possible.

He stands from the chair, grabs her nearly off her feet, and gives her one of the deepest kisses she's ever received.

Into her cheek, laughing still harder, he says like an invocation of a spell, to her, to the Twins, to the force of creation of every world that is and could be:] Thank you. Thank you.

[From the photo—which in another minute he'll enchant with every protective invulnerability spell he owns—Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, all grown up, clearly together, radiatingly happy, surrounded by children with amalgams of their features, smile and wave and tell him that absolutely everything was completely worth it.

Through hers, his wish had been granted after all.]