It seemed Remus had just gotten to sleep when he was tapped on the
shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Louis standing next to where he had
been under the tree.
"It's raining on your book," he said.
"Oh. So it is," Remus said, sitting up and putting it under his damp shirt in a futile attempt to keep it dry. Remus stood up and continued back into the large house with Louis.
In the sitting room Sergei was laying across the sofa with a book lying open on his chest. Malachy was looking out at the yard, and Miranda sat sewing something. Anya was curled up on a giant armchair listening to Malachy talk. When Remus and Louis entered the room, she jumped up and ran over to Louis. Louis picked her up and sat down in the chair that she had just recently occupied.
Atrus came in just as Remus sat down and glared at the group for a moment. Louis and Sergei exchanged a glance. Atrus left the room again without a word.
"Uh-oh. Louis, he's mad because Miranda isn't wearing purple," Sergei said.
"Why do you have certain colours anyway?" Remus asked.
Malachy made an indistinct noise in his throat. "I don't know," he said.
"You know what I think?" Sergei said. "I think Atrus is sooo fu--excuse me-- -organized, he wants to keep us colour-coded."
"That's not why," Louis said exasperatedly.
"Oh yeah? You have a better reason?" Sergei asked.
"Well...no...but, still," Louis said slowly.
"Maybe you shouldn't over-analyze this stuff," Miranda said, shaking her head.
"Ach. You always say that," Malachy said.
"Let's admit it. He never allows us to do what we want," Sergei said. "Oh, if you could -see- Russia. It's gorgeous."
"Here we go again," came a groan from the doorway. They looked around and saw Henrik standing there. "Sergei, Sergei. Still -whining-."
"What's Russia like?" Remus asked immediately.
Henrik got into a huff and marched out of the room again.
@%@%@%@%@%@%@
That's what life was like. Remus got along with those five better than the rest of the pack. They would tell stories fondly of their homeland. Remus soon found himself wishing to see the wilderness of Russia that Sergei spoke of, or the peaceful countryside of Ireland. Louis would tell of Paris, how they would go to ballets and rich parties, and see concerts.
"What's Wales like?" Louis asked Remus once.
"I don't know. It's green, I suppose."
"Oh come on," Sergei said, "You can do better than that."
"Well...I grew up in a large house. It's a two-story house with a porch you can sit on and look out at the garden. The garden's mostly herbs, Russian sage and thyme and rosemary. When you brush them the smell of them is so strong that even humans can smell them clearly. Mostly woods surround the house. If you take a walk in them it seems silent and at first, but then you notice all sorts of noises and movements. Down a path is the ocean. The smell of sea salt is sweet and fills the air.
"There are always fields with sheep and such. You can get fresh cream every morning from the cows, and in the summer almost every day is sunny. Even on the rainy days it's warm. In the winter it doesn't snow. But it gets really hazy, and it's still warm, and you can walk down the road not knowing what to expect."
Miranda sighed. "It sounds beautiful. I wish I could go there sometime."
"It's not as good as I make it sound. It's a small village where everybody knows everybody else. And everybody is extremely superstitious."
"When I change my name," Sergei said, "The six of us can visit Wales. We can go see Ireland, and we can stay on holiday in Russia. Then we'll go have a grand time in Paris."
"Yes, Sergei. When you change your name," Malachy repeated.
Sergei had been thinking of changing his name for a while. It was on their to-do list, along with travelling the world and breaking off from the pack to start their own.
"I think it may change to Raskolnikov. It's a beautiful, Russian name, don't you think? It's one of my favorites," he said dreamily.
"Indeed."
"Though I suppose Marmeladov might not be bad. I wouldn't even mind Vladamir. But I hate my name," he said. "Remus, would you ever want to change your name."
"I don't know. I suppose I would want to drop my middle name."
"Don't. Remus is a beautiful name," Sergei said.
"It makes -me- think of chocolate," Louis said. "And you can't pronounce it wrong. If there's one think I hate about my name, it's that so many pronounce my name the American way."
"How's the American way?" Anya asked.
"They almost completely cancel out the 'I' and add an 's'. So it's Loo- iss," Louis said. "They slaughter a lot of French words. They pronounce Paris wrong, so it's Pair-iss. And Des Moines. It's Dez Moinz. They abuse the name Amelie`, so it's Emily.
"Yes, I've heard that a lot," Remus nodded. "I took French when I was younger, and I like the French pronunciations better."
"Like what?" Anya said. "Teach me one of them."
"English say 'choclat'. If it were spelled in England the way French pronounce it, it would be spell S-H-O-C-O-L-A-T. So it would be pronounced 'shocolat'. And you have the 'shoclat-lry', instead of confectionery shop or candy store," Louis said.
"Yes, that's one of the ones I like. I tried to use the term chocolatry once, but they didn't understand what I was trying to say," Remus said.
And a lot of conversations would turn this way. They would start out telling a story, and it could turn to anything, and then it would take another strange turn and they would end up comparing accents and customs. From there is may turn to books and then on to something else. And it would always end with someone else walking in on the group and sneer at them. But it didn't matter. Remus was still happy.
"It's raining on your book," he said.
"Oh. So it is," Remus said, sitting up and putting it under his damp shirt in a futile attempt to keep it dry. Remus stood up and continued back into the large house with Louis.
In the sitting room Sergei was laying across the sofa with a book lying open on his chest. Malachy was looking out at the yard, and Miranda sat sewing something. Anya was curled up on a giant armchair listening to Malachy talk. When Remus and Louis entered the room, she jumped up and ran over to Louis. Louis picked her up and sat down in the chair that she had just recently occupied.
Atrus came in just as Remus sat down and glared at the group for a moment. Louis and Sergei exchanged a glance. Atrus left the room again without a word.
"Uh-oh. Louis, he's mad because Miranda isn't wearing purple," Sergei said.
"Why do you have certain colours anyway?" Remus asked.
Malachy made an indistinct noise in his throat. "I don't know," he said.
"You know what I think?" Sergei said. "I think Atrus is sooo fu--excuse me-- -organized, he wants to keep us colour-coded."
"That's not why," Louis said exasperatedly.
"Oh yeah? You have a better reason?" Sergei asked.
"Well...no...but, still," Louis said slowly.
"Maybe you shouldn't over-analyze this stuff," Miranda said, shaking her head.
"Ach. You always say that," Malachy said.
"Let's admit it. He never allows us to do what we want," Sergei said. "Oh, if you could -see- Russia. It's gorgeous."
"Here we go again," came a groan from the doorway. They looked around and saw Henrik standing there. "Sergei, Sergei. Still -whining-."
"What's Russia like?" Remus asked immediately.
Henrik got into a huff and marched out of the room again.
@%@%@%@%@%@%@
That's what life was like. Remus got along with those five better than the rest of the pack. They would tell stories fondly of their homeland. Remus soon found himself wishing to see the wilderness of Russia that Sergei spoke of, or the peaceful countryside of Ireland. Louis would tell of Paris, how they would go to ballets and rich parties, and see concerts.
"What's Wales like?" Louis asked Remus once.
"I don't know. It's green, I suppose."
"Oh come on," Sergei said, "You can do better than that."
"Well...I grew up in a large house. It's a two-story house with a porch you can sit on and look out at the garden. The garden's mostly herbs, Russian sage and thyme and rosemary. When you brush them the smell of them is so strong that even humans can smell them clearly. Mostly woods surround the house. If you take a walk in them it seems silent and at first, but then you notice all sorts of noises and movements. Down a path is the ocean. The smell of sea salt is sweet and fills the air.
"There are always fields with sheep and such. You can get fresh cream every morning from the cows, and in the summer almost every day is sunny. Even on the rainy days it's warm. In the winter it doesn't snow. But it gets really hazy, and it's still warm, and you can walk down the road not knowing what to expect."
Miranda sighed. "It sounds beautiful. I wish I could go there sometime."
"It's not as good as I make it sound. It's a small village where everybody knows everybody else. And everybody is extremely superstitious."
"When I change my name," Sergei said, "The six of us can visit Wales. We can go see Ireland, and we can stay on holiday in Russia. Then we'll go have a grand time in Paris."
"Yes, Sergei. When you change your name," Malachy repeated.
Sergei had been thinking of changing his name for a while. It was on their to-do list, along with travelling the world and breaking off from the pack to start their own.
"I think it may change to Raskolnikov. It's a beautiful, Russian name, don't you think? It's one of my favorites," he said dreamily.
"Indeed."
"Though I suppose Marmeladov might not be bad. I wouldn't even mind Vladamir. But I hate my name," he said. "Remus, would you ever want to change your name."
"I don't know. I suppose I would want to drop my middle name."
"Don't. Remus is a beautiful name," Sergei said.
"It makes -me- think of chocolate," Louis said. "And you can't pronounce it wrong. If there's one think I hate about my name, it's that so many pronounce my name the American way."
"How's the American way?" Anya asked.
"They almost completely cancel out the 'I' and add an 's'. So it's Loo- iss," Louis said. "They slaughter a lot of French words. They pronounce Paris wrong, so it's Pair-iss. And Des Moines. It's Dez Moinz. They abuse the name Amelie`, so it's Emily.
"Yes, I've heard that a lot," Remus nodded. "I took French when I was younger, and I like the French pronunciations better."
"Like what?" Anya said. "Teach me one of them."
"English say 'choclat'. If it were spelled in England the way French pronounce it, it would be spell S-H-O-C-O-L-A-T. So it would be pronounced 'shocolat'. And you have the 'shoclat-lry', instead of confectionery shop or candy store," Louis said.
"Yes, that's one of the ones I like. I tried to use the term chocolatry once, but they didn't understand what I was trying to say," Remus said.
And a lot of conversations would turn this way. They would start out telling a story, and it could turn to anything, and then it would take another strange turn and they would end up comparing accents and customs. From there is may turn to books and then on to something else. And it would always end with someone else walking in on the group and sneer at them. But it didn't matter. Remus was still happy.