Scar of Humanity
A/N: I think this is a one off. Reviews would be great, thanks.
By nature, none of us adhere to the rules of humanity. We must earn to obey this system, and once we have grown we will teach it to others and constantly remind our fellow humans that they are indeed human; governed by emotion and morals. Not instinct, unless it is to uphold those morals. Do not stand out, reflect and always obey the rules.
The beast runs free and sees not the child but the warm scent of blood. He sees it in all its fascinating colours and no rules decide if, or when, he will tear flesh.
White pain.
White fur.
Red.
Does the beast feel remorse? Never. It sees no reflection, it needs none. No beast ever needed to define itself; no wolf ever searched its own eyes in the river.
The child will feel the ebbing of blood, but not the infection that possesses him. When the child wakes his eyes will express pain and sadness but he'll never search the eyes of his parents. He'll never try to peer into his own soul.
The wolf leaves a mark. A scar of humanity, of humanity because the wolf does not understand 'scar'. The child, no longer a child, but learning still to be human fears that no lover will caress that blazing mark and fears that no friend will dare search his eyes for humanity. For what is shown there will not be humanity, the child knows it; it will be an animal; vulnerable and trembling before the threat of morals and emotion.
He fears the moon, the wolf does not.
He fears the moon and the stars that fool him.
The rumble of the sky and the jest of lightening drive him from his bed.
Only four months have passed for Remus at Hogwarts, three full moons have taken him into the shrieking shack. His friends don't know, Remus feels so old and his friends are too young to know it. He fears the lies; he fears that his only and first friends are lies too.
The rumble of thunder feels like the pain in Remus' muscles. He clings to the bed sheets, hating the night sky.
"Sirius?" His whisper precedes the soft sound of bare feet against the floor, curtains parting. Sirius' breathing is quiet and slow, Remus' lips tremble and he can't speak.
He confesses his fear of the storm, trembling and pale with fright and cold. Sirius gasps when he climbs in "Move closer, you're freezing."
His friend's arms close around him and try to vanquish fear, quiet words of reassurance. Remus closes his eyes and promises himself that his friend will understand. It isn't Sirius' fault that he's still a child, or Remus' that he didn't continue his path to pure humanity. His voice is no more than a whisper, under the sleeping breath of James and Peter.
"I want to tell you about the moon Sirius."
But sleep takes him, Sirius' arms hold him still and he frowns.
A/N: I think this is a one off. Reviews would be great, thanks.
By nature, none of us adhere to the rules of humanity. We must earn to obey this system, and once we have grown we will teach it to others and constantly remind our fellow humans that they are indeed human; governed by emotion and morals. Not instinct, unless it is to uphold those morals. Do not stand out, reflect and always obey the rules.
The beast runs free and sees not the child but the warm scent of blood. He sees it in all its fascinating colours and no rules decide if, or when, he will tear flesh.
White pain.
White fur.
Red.
Does the beast feel remorse? Never. It sees no reflection, it needs none. No beast ever needed to define itself; no wolf ever searched its own eyes in the river.
The child will feel the ebbing of blood, but not the infection that possesses him. When the child wakes his eyes will express pain and sadness but he'll never search the eyes of his parents. He'll never try to peer into his own soul.
The wolf leaves a mark. A scar of humanity, of humanity because the wolf does not understand 'scar'. The child, no longer a child, but learning still to be human fears that no lover will caress that blazing mark and fears that no friend will dare search his eyes for humanity. For what is shown there will not be humanity, the child knows it; it will be an animal; vulnerable and trembling before the threat of morals and emotion.
He fears the moon, the wolf does not.
He fears the moon and the stars that fool him.
The rumble of the sky and the jest of lightening drive him from his bed.
Only four months have passed for Remus at Hogwarts, three full moons have taken him into the shrieking shack. His friends don't know, Remus feels so old and his friends are too young to know it. He fears the lies; he fears that his only and first friends are lies too.
The rumble of thunder feels like the pain in Remus' muscles. He clings to the bed sheets, hating the night sky.
"Sirius?" His whisper precedes the soft sound of bare feet against the floor, curtains parting. Sirius' breathing is quiet and slow, Remus' lips tremble and he can't speak.
He confesses his fear of the storm, trembling and pale with fright and cold. Sirius gasps when he climbs in "Move closer, you're freezing."
His friend's arms close around him and try to vanquish fear, quiet words of reassurance. Remus closes his eyes and promises himself that his friend will understand. It isn't Sirius' fault that he's still a child, or Remus' that he didn't continue his path to pure humanity. His voice is no more than a whisper, under the sleeping breath of James and Peter.
"I want to tell you about the moon Sirius."
But sleep takes him, Sirius' arms hold him still and he frowns.
