which tragic character from ancient greek literature are you?

YOUR RESULT: CASSANDRA

you are cassandra from the trojan women by euripides and agamemnon by aeschylus. people have tried to silence you one too many times, but you are resilient. your own dignity and agency have always come first, but at a great cost. you know yourself and your inner strength, but that won't ever stop you from feeling completely alone in the world. sometimes simply enduring the pain won't be enough, no matter how hard you want it to be. above all, you must never lose your unwavering hope in mankind, even as the world forsakes you. it is what keeps you human.

TAGGED BY: @sihlvurs​ 

TAGGING: anyone who might be stalking this poorly built indie !

SIHLVURS

Black eyes followed the uninvited guest as he limped past him and through the small space of the cramped apothecary. Severus’ eyes narrowed, lips drawn in a flat line as he watched. He should’ve taken the ridiculous man by the collar and dragged him out immediately, possibly owled one of his contacts within the order to come collect their lost pup and release himself from the responsibility and the awkwardness that would surely follow.

He still could. Possibly he should, now. Before this became a regular occurrence.

He shut the door behind him with finality, quietly resetting the wards before he turned around and made his way towards Lupin. It wasn’t like him to ask for help — from anyone, let alone from an enemy (still?) — and this made Severus at least curious. He slipped under Lupin’s arm, right hand around the other’s waist and half carried the man to the lab room at the back of the shop. ‘ Since when were you this bossy, ’ he huffed and rolled his eyes, pushing open the door and carefully setting Lupin down upon the cot in the corner of the room. Severus slept here on late nights, when Atticus left him to his own devices and gave him free reign of the shop. The cot was still warm where he laid in it himself only minutes ago. The covers were thrown wide open. His empty wand hollister and a water flask were set aside near the pillow, where Lupin’s head was resting now.

He brought his satchel of healing brews — now familiar to both of them, and isn’t that a thought? — and cast a number of diagnostic spells over the prone figure. He paused and hummed. The silence stretched for just a moment too long. Then he crouched beside Lupin and hung his head, hand going through his own hair as he thought about what to do next. ‘ Alright, ’ he started. ‘ What happened to you now? If you’re going to die on my bed I’d rather know what killed you. ’

x

"Since when are you this strong?" He huffed back, tone petulant as if that was a worthy comeback at all, his weight transferring onto Severus. He failed to take into consideration the fact that he was no heavy sack of meat to carry around, particularly not these days with the approaching full moon, and maybe he'd just underestimated how easy he would be to haul around.

His vision darkened again, the ground spun beneath his feet as he stumbled forward; a moment of complete darkness, and then he was horizontal. He peered around, swallowing the groan stuck in his throat, curious (albeit foggy) eyes taking in the odd back room. It felt strangely eery there, although perhaps that was only a matter of dealing with an unknown scenery; particularly when one's body was shutting down. Comfort was found in the few familiarities Remus could let his brain latch onto -- Severus' voice, his ominously striking presence, the clinking of his satchel filled with healing brews. His gaze back on his companion, a furrow graced his brows.

"Your hair looks really soft," was the thing that came out, first. It was true, of course, as most words spoken under Veritaserum tend to be. The truth-poison had no intoxicating agents to it that could excuse the sudden uninhibited behavior, but Remus would blame that on the looming cloud of death currently hanging above his body. He might as well say whatever comes to mind. A last effort to be laid bare onto the world, from the boy who always kept so much to himself. And Severus' hair did look fairly soft where it fell between his fingers. "I got picked up by some very angry people," he continued, as if the compliment had been nothing more than a comment on the weather. "The, uh... well. Death eaters, I suppose. Who wanted to know about the Order." A pause for a hiccup, and another pained groan that squeezed his eyes shut for a lingering moment. "Merlin-- and they forced me to take a bunch of stuff. They were stupid enough to give me Veritaserum last, for some fucking reason," the laughter that comes out of him elicits another cry. "I don't know, I managed to escape. I think they gave me one of those potions that melts your insides. 'S what it feels like. I'm sorry I'm dying in your bed." He sighed, a sound filled with ache and grief. "Am sorry about a lot of things, to be honest."

@sihlvurs​  sent  ❝ you keep giving away your life. you don’t care much whether you live or die, do you ? ❞

the words almost went unnoticed, a distant murmur in the back of his brain when he was so focused on staying upright. a step, another step, a stumble. his vision darkened, world swirling around him as he pushed past severus and into the shop -- as if he'd been invited.

the truth, both of them knew, was that remus wouldn't be there if he had any other choice. maybe that in itself was what compelled the young potioneer to open up the door when a limping werewolf came knocking, in the absolute dead of night. "i do not," he answered the question, forced honesty rolling off his tongue. perhaps its intentions were to be kept rhetoric, a snarky comment severus threw his way, but remus was never one to shy away from debate anyway. "to be very frank with you, severus, i mostly do not." a heavy hand that leaned onto one of the nearby shelves, potions clinking in protest as they bumped together. he turned to the other wizard, stubbornly blinking away the blur from his vision.

"well, i suppose i do right now. i'd very much like to live tonight," a pause for a hiccup, and the following hiss of pain as the movement shoots a flare of agony up his spine. none of his wounds were visible, but they sure were bringing him hell. he wasn't even entirely certain of what was happening, but his insides seemed to be on fire, as if his flesh was trying to melt right off the bones. it'd been some sort of green liquid -- or was it the orange one? after so many hours and so many vials, he didn't know what he'd been given in that interrogation. "'s why i'm here. just-- help me out, will you?" well, he knew one thing they'd given him in the interrogation. "and don't ask any questions you don't want the answers to. i need a damn antidote, too." 

SIHLVURS

Black eyes catch everything —— the broken nose, the bruised hands, the bad knee. Swiftly cataloguing the injuries as he spotted them. Severus came prepared for a wide array of injuries, but there was always a chance he failed to account for something. And there was only so much time he could spend down here unnoticed.

He did not let go of the blade’s edge. It’s malice thrummed like a heartbeat beneath his fingers, ravenous, it’s sharp teeth brushed against bare skin. His grip remained steady. He looked into the werewolf’s eyes at the sound of his own name, said like that, said with purpose. Lips pressed together imperceptibly. With his other hand he cupped the werewolf’s weakened grip on the handle, steadying. He had to choose his words carefully. He needed to trust Lupin, but he needed Lupin to trust him just the same in return. ‘ I’m here to help you, ’ he said. ‘ If you stay past the full moon, you will be killed. ’ He inhaled, exhaled, and leaned forward. His voice was low and soft, but not hesitant. Black eyes intent and focused. ‘ We have our history, Lupin, but I will not let more people die where I could prevent it. ’ He made a promise on that hill, an oath to himself. And those were the promises he kept closest to his heart, the ones that come without punishment if broken. ‘ Things changed. We’re on the same side now. ’

He let go of the knife, carefully, and brought his satchel of healing brews onto his lap with both hands, beginning to shuffle through the contents again as he spoke. ‘ The knife will cut through the wards of your cell, as well as the servants exit behind the two-faced copper armor with the three swords. A dark tunnel will wait for you. Follow it in a straight line to the end. Don’t take any turns. ’ He placed the fifth bottle at the end of a row of bottles beside him. ‘ Are you following? ’

x

severus reaches for his hand, and this time, remus (pathetically) flinches. where stupid bravery stood before, now sits a confused, wary man, who isn't sure how to accept the helping hand he's been yearning for the past few days. he isn't quite sure how to look at severus and really see the blinding glimmer of hope he represents tonight.

"i know i will be killed," he protests, his petulance quiet amidst the sternness of his companion's speech -- the implied question there was why wouldn't you be happy about that? his eyes take in the man before him, gaze settled on the dark eyes looking back, and remus finds himself taken aback by their honesty. for all of their grievances, remus never regarded severus to be much of a liar, by any means; still, the brute, raw sincerity of his words now is so overwhelming it almost feels as if everything he's ever said pales in comparison. he declares they're on the same side now, and the werewolf has no choice but to believe him. if severus wanted him dead, setting up a trap like this would be ridiculous when he could just do it right then and there. remus thinks, but he can't find a reason why this would be a lie. when even was the last time remus lupin believed anything? his jaw sets, fingers tightening around the handle of the knife. 

the loss of a hand on his makes his skin feel cold, but he bothers himself instead with the unfamiliar thrumming of dark magic within the blade, and tries to focus on the words being said to him. a dozen different questions arise, all of them feeling somehow inadequate and dying on his tongue, before he finally speaks up again. "and then what happens to you?" later on, he'll have it in himself to question his own choice of inquiry, but there's no surprise there. because, he realizes, he trusts severus. either from their history, or from his own sleep-deprivation and lack of self-preservation, or those damn black eyes, or a combination of it all. it's trust that he puts on the man currently stacking mysterious bottles in a row. a battered werewolf's trust isn't worth much these days, but it's all he can give, he thinks. "what happens to you when they see i've been let out? severus, are you playing double agent to them?" the name slips out unnoticed this time, as it often does, and his voice is a hissed whisper. there's a sentiment born there, to which he has no name. it latches onto his lungs like anxiety, but it's tinted red with revolt, and its edges are much harsher. "are you mad?"

@sihlvurs

“they tried to kill each other” yes and? do you have a problem with true love

I take out my throat / but the grief remains

— Alessandra Lynch, from “Couplets” Pretty Tripwire (via lifeinpoetry)

To love me is to love a haunted house; it’s fun to visit once a year but no one wants to live there, and when you say, “Tell me about the bad days,” it sounds like all the neighborhood kids daring each other to ring the doorbell.

im sorry but writing enemies to lovers on ao3 is so fucking funny. one of them will go a whole paragraph saying how much they hate, absolutely despise, have genuine burning contempt for the other and we’re all here knowing damn well that enemies to lovers tag is just sat there. like we already know what’s coming bro you’re just embarrassing yourself

SIHLVURS

@atlasxnine​ (remus)    :      ‘  i’m  not  scared.  kill  me.  ’

‘ Good, ’ Severus said, because it meant Lupin wouldn’t hemorrhage secrets like a witless child when Mulciber came back for another round of questions. Then again, if Lupin was inclined to do such, it would’ve happened by now. Mulciber was skilled, but his talents of persuasion were only effective to a certain degree, against a certain type of person. It was weeks ago that they brought the wolf into their guest room in the dungeons, unaware of its nature. And still not a word of his friends and allies in the Order: no names, no locations, no plans or intentions. Nothing.

It wasn’t nearly enough for Severus to trust him with his secret. But it would have to be, they were running out of time. The full moon was upon them, and once Mulciber found out what they brought into his home it would be a swift and brutal death at best.

He stepped into the cell, his satchel of healing potions clinking together as he set it down at his feet. Then he sat down himself, legs crossed, and began rifling through the contents himself. ‘ You will need that bravery as you make your escape tomorrow night. ’ He pulled out a small dagger, well concealed and undetectable. Charmed as the devil, and reeking of ill intent. He held it out to the other man, handle first, and looked up. Black eyes boring intently into Lupins own. ‘ You will need this, too. ’

the place smells like copper. it was intriguing enough to keep remus guessing for the first two days, fingertips running over the damp stone walls, keeping himself busy while he was alone. now, it's sickening. hey, no hard feelings, though; he supposes most scents are sickening once your nose has been broken.

severus walks in, and remus doesn't flinch or cower. that might've been his reaction from days ago, weeks ago, however long he's been stuck in here. at this point, there's no more element of surprise there, and he wasn't once a gryffindor by chance. he tilts his chin up, dark, sleep-deprived eyes watch the other walk in, and he stands stiffly by. i'm not scared, kill me, remus said, more a challenge than a demand. in this room, right then, stands a werewolf and a man who knows about a werewolf. remus hasn't kept track of the moon from down here, but by the way his hairs stand on end every nightfall, he knows the full must be close. snape needs to end him before he turns, or every one of his little friends might turn into death eater stew in a few days.

remus understands this. he accepts his fate. and then severus walks in with a clinking bag and just sits.

remus watches -- wary, dumbfounded, annoyed. escape, his unexpected companion says, and the confusion turns into a knot in his brain that he doesn't have the energy to unfurl. "what the fuck," he says, ineloquently, as his gaze drops to the dagger extended at him. no, not at him -- for him, handle first, asking to be taken.

bruised fingers curl around the knife like something sacred and he tries to sit, a bad knee making him tumble to the ground without much grace, though he doubts snape would care. "severus," he calls, and while usually the first name slips by unnoticed in his speech, this time he uses it on purpose, because he knows the sound of it begs for attention. begs for honesty, too. he doesn't take the knife, only holds onto it weakly, eyes back on the other's. it is too much, to think that this could be the genuine help he needs -- but what else is it? a prank doesn't seem like severus' style. "what are you saying?"

look at the light through the windowpane. that means it’s noon, that means       we’re inconsolable.

                                                 tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. these, our bodies, possessed by light.                                                                     tell me we’ll never get used to it.

→ IINCONSOLABLE. written by gabe, 24, she/her, gmt-3. highly selective, private, indie blog for REMUS J. LUPIN. anti-jkr. might be au heavy. 

→ RULES / FULL BIO / MEMES (tba) .