Sirius Black (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blackdogstar) wrote2020-10-11 07:26 pm
blackdogstar) wrote2020-10-11 07:26 pm
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<TruthSeeker> - October 24
Can I talk to you, please?
<Padfoot>
Oh, shit.
Yeah of course, I can pop out of the usual ring in a few.
[Because of course he keeps a fairy ring right by the farm.]
<TruthSeeker>
I'll put the kettle on.
[When did that become such a natural response to stress? He's not sure, but he's grateful for it anyway - it's something to do, and a reason to become solid enough to do it, when he's been blurring restlessly in and out of having any kind of form.]
[Knowing Sirius is coming is also a good reason to pull himself together enough to look roughly human, and not like a dark, shrouded shape. He knows that makes his brother uncomfortable. So it's a fairly ordinary-looking, if tired and rather shadowy, Regulus who answers the door when Sirius does arrive.]
no subject
[How stereotypical of you, Reg. Still, if it helps him soothe himself, Sirius isn't going to argue.
He does pop out of his ring out in the farm fields, zipping on his clear wings toward the house. He knocks gently, as he lowers himself back to the ground. It's a brow-pinched Sirius standing there when Regulus answers the door.]
Hey.
no subject
[When he does speak, it's meant to be something neutral and polite, but that isn't what comes out at all. It turns out that beyond a certain point, thinking about the same thing all day means you just come out and say it.]
Someone pointed out it's a pattern. Do you think there's something wrong with me?
no subject
[Regulus has never been a wordy man, but his absolute silence when faced with the worlds most simple greeting doesn't bode well.]
[Sirius realizes abruptly and acutely that he is not remotely qualified to be emotional support to anyone, let alone his own brother. His mouth opens, and closes.]
I think there's something wrong with all of us, Reg. You're going to have to give me more to go on. What happened?
no subject
[He doesn't answer for a moment. He's trying not to answer, not to let everything come tumbling out all at once - trying to get his thoughts in order, and marshalled into something calmer and more rational than he feels.]
The... [When he gestures, shadow follows his movement, afterimages drifting like smoke. Or fog.] The bubbles. The past.
She lied. I believed her. But she lied.
[The room is very cold. Around them, the shadows - there are a lot of shadows, this is a house inhabited by shades and vampires, after all - pulse and shift oddly, as though fidgeting.]
[As his voice rises, just slightly, Regulus is starting to pulse and shift, too. From slender youth to black-cloaked, skull-faced void; from pale to dark; jittering and shifting like shadows on a windy day.]
And it was the same lie! Just like Aunamee, just like...
[He trails off there. He never knows how to refer to Him, these days. Dark Lord is too respectful for how he feels; Riddle too blunt; Voldemort too much like an invitation.]
I keep believing people. Believing in people. And it's always the wrong people, and I should know, because it's always the same lie, and I'm just...
[Without entirely realising it, he's gone intangible. There's a dark mist hanging in the air, vaguely human-shaped, and even that is flickering into the now unnaturally-dark shadows around them. His voice seems to come from a distance, and from nowhere in particular.]
I'm stupid. Was I always this bloody stupid?
no subject
[He is so, very, deeply not qualified for this. Sirius fights the urge to answer immediately yes and simply breathes in deep through his nose. His antennae tremble on his head, his wings fluttering nervously behind him. He doesn't know what to do, what to say. He isn't even sure he follows everything Regulus is saying.]
None of us can go around not believing in people. I think we have to just... to be... [He's say human but they aren't that any more, are they?] Just to be. I don't know why you stick to the ones you stick to, I never really understood how you think, and I'm sorry. I could have done more to try, and I didn't. But... it was safe, wasn't it? When we were little. It was safe to believe with we were told, kept... kept you from getting hurt or getting yelled at. You just... developed the habit, I guess.
[He drags his sharp nails back through his hair.]
I'm not exactly free of my old habits either. It's hard. To change.
no subject
It didn't stop anything.
Mother still yelled. Especially after you left. I think it made Bellatrix worse. And... and it almost got Kreacher killed. It did get me killed.
I should have gone when you did. I should just have listened to you, if I was going to listen to anybody.
[He raises his head, white light from his eyes reflecting on the tendrils of darkness that snake all around him.]
I'm sorry. About the shadows. I'm trying to...
...I can't control it. [I can't control myself, he means. These are more feelings than even he can tamp down.]