informant

Dorcas Meadowes; Bartender at Boulevardier. Mole for the Prewetts.

[doe-meads]

amcarrows‌:

date/time: march 30th, night location: the docks open

despite the fact this is where most of the dead bodies he has to dispose of ends up, amycus enjoys being at the docks. this is the closest he’s ever been to living near water all his life, and he tries to make the most of it. he still remembers the stories his mother used to tell him, the photographs she would show – she’d grown up in a little japanese fishing town, and she’d told him that when people died, they all went back to the waters. 

well, he doesn’t know if his mother is waiting for him in the murky waters near new york city, but something about being here calms him down. 

there’s no one else around, or at least he thinks, and he has managed to sneak onto one of the tiny fishing boats by the docks, if only to be able to dip his feet in the water underneath. eyes closed, he barely notices someone approaching him until he’s tapped on the shoulder, and he nearly falls forward. 

“sorry,” he says, almost instinctively, eyes going a little wide. “i’m – sorry. is this – is this your boat?” 

Dorcas knew she had a job ; she always had a job. Except this one involved sneaking around the docks and trying to find where the booze was located. Once they accomplished that, it was a matter of stealing it . . . she hadn’t stolen anything before, but she was hoping her luck would last her through the night ( good luck, that is ). The young lady tiptoed around, trying not to make noise. She could easily explain that she had been wandering around at this hour in search of a friend or something equally believable. The goal, however, was to not get caught. . . but no one said anything about distractions. 

Dorcas thought she recognized the figure by the edge of the docks, slowly approaching him. This wasn’t the most ideal place to run into someone she happened to tutor, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t greet him anyway. She tapped his shoulder, nearly flinching at his reaction ; looks like she wasn’t the only one easily spooked this evening. 

“Huh? Oh, no, I wish.” 

“Hey Amycus, sorry for the scare, I thought I recognized you out here.” 

[doe-meads]

DORCAS MEADOWES

BASICS: 

NAME: dorcas meadowes  PRONOUNS: she / her AGE: 23 OCCUPATION: bartender at the boulevardier & informant for the prewetts  AFFILIATION: prewetts 

CHARACTER SUMMARY: ( for bio, please click here ) — tw: illness 

dorcas is stressed, she’s really stressed and trying to hide it. she accepted the prewett job out of desperation and the need for money, but now she’s stuck and falling deeper down this rabbit hole that is the world of crime and gang affiliations. 

growing up, dorcas was raised by a single mother and didn’t have too many luxuries, hence she’s not really a materialistic person. she never really cared about what’s ‘fashionable’ or ‘popular’ in regards to trends. and while that is admirable, it also puts her at a loss when it comes to engaging with people from that elite circle. 

dorcas didn’t have too many friends growing up. in school, she mostly focused on her studies because she genuinely liked learning and education ( so she’s a bit of a nerd ). but the tragic part is she never got to continue past high school due to her mother’s illness. 

dorcas has always been a self-reliant person, so asking for help or leaning on others is a new concept for her. which makes being part of the gang even more complicated because she’s never had people before, people who willingly look out for her. 

dorcas is very internally conflicted ; on one hand, she’s foolish enough to think that she’ll be able to escape the world of crime once her mother recovers and the money isn’t needed anymore. on the other hand, dorcas thinks of herself as knowing right from wrong, and that her morals are somehow above all of this. she’s very much caught in a web, it’s just a matter of how tangled she’ll become. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS: ( there are taken right from her bio posting so all credit goes to admin soj and 👀 someone pls ,, take them ,, for the d r a m a )

remus lupin: You don’t claim to be an expert on sniffing out secrets, but it’s clear to you that something is out of place where Remus is concerned. First, there’s their dynamic with Evelyn - a protectiveness that doesn’t appear from nowhere. Then, there’s their little band of misfits, everywhere and nowhere all at once. You haven’t quite touched on what it is yet, but you’re determined to figure out. Attaching yourself like a limpet, you’ve taken to spending more time with them - all of them - trying to slowly gain their trust. Given your mutual connection in Evelyn, Remus is your first target, but right now, they don’t seem to be biting.

rabastan lestrange: They’re the enemy. Or at least, that’s what you’re told. Impatient, ruthless and cocky, with a tendency to drink a little more than is good for them, they were an easy target, a route into the Death Eater’s and their secrets. You try to remind yourself of that. But it’s not always easy. Rabastan matches your wit some charm of their own, tips generously and tells you things about themselves they’ve never told anyone, when the lights dim and it’s way past close. You’re not sure if you’d call them a friend, not sure if you could - not when you entered the relationship with such warped intentions - but you listen anyway, slip them an extra whiskey when Evelyn isn’t looking, read their fortune and pretend like you’re not growing more attached as each day passes.

[doe-meads]

ofmarlenethegreat‌:

Marlene always thought gossip spread fast, but her new life wouldn’t have room for it. It’s nice to see some consistencies and how easily she can slip in the roles she needs to fill. She got her orders, and while she worries for Doe being involved, she can be strong for the both of them. Marlene’s affinity to live up to the Prewett’s expectations, to prove herself as the loyal and hard working soldier she’s meant to be, meant she was perfect for this role of course. 

“Well, you’re gonna do great!” She beamed at her friend, one arm lazily draping around her shoulders as she led them further. “As far as anyone else is concerned, we’re just a couple of beautiful broads taking a moonlit stroll.” She chuckled yet lowered her voice as she glanced around their surroundings. “Hmm.. follow me.” She murmured softly, footsteps light as she peered over the large crates, gaze fixated on the docks. “You see any Death Eaters?”

A couple of beautiful broads taking a moonlit stroll? While Dorcas was sure Marlene could play that part rather well, her own appearance and acting weren’t exactly . . . up to par. The other knew how to walk the walk, how to talk the talk ; there was a certain freedom in which Marlene moved through spaces, a certain freedom which she couldn’t help but envy. Dorcas followed obediently, noticing the large crates on the dock. 

“Not yet,” the brunette answered, peering around. If her stomach would stop doing nervous flips, she wouldn’t be so paranoid about the whole operation. 

“So I take it we’re in luck.” The Death Eaters already scared her, and the probability of running into them tonight wasn’t any better. 

[doe-meads]

tndrhartd‌:

the relief could only really double: even though, in truth, arthur did not have the greatest grasp of the extents of the danger that they were in with their line of work, both inside among gangs and outside with the cops, he worried constantly for dorcas anyway mostly because it was second nature for him, because she had become too important in his life, and he was protective of her in ways that even he didn’t understand. were in a better position in life, arthur would have loved to have given her something more secure, something that didn’t taint her smile with anxiety, but that wasn’t the case, so all he could do was offer were these small comforts.

“good to hear it. i’ve been learning moves though, i’m ready to swing if it comes down to it,” and he added a little flex of his arm to accent his brazen words, but he was hardly the strappiest of men, and he knew it. still, arthur was aware of what men could do when they felt the need to defend their loved ones, when they were desperate, he was sure he could be savage for dorcas’ defense. “oh, definitely! aren’t you starving? i’m ready to eat my weight in fried chicken,” he raised the food he was carrying to their eyeline, grinning now. he wasn’t actually a heavy eater, but his meals with dorcas, he tried to eat more than usual, to sort of encourage her to eat more herself. in his family, he was used to being constantly urged to take more, eat more, indulge, he wanted the same for her, make sure she was healthy and happy. “good thing fabian didn’t clean me out tonight or i wouldn’t have been able to buy as much. one of these days, i swear, i’m going to win a million dollars from him.”

“You? A fighter?” Dorcas retorted, smiling. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Arthur.” It wasn’t that she doubted his skills or his conviction ; instead, she always assumed him to be more of a lover than a fighter. For who else would behave so friendly with strangers, including taking one under his wings when her mother became sickly? Dorcas didn’t know what to think when she first learned of Arthur’s affiliation with the Prewetts. The kind man in their building being part of a gang? It definitely sounded like some kind of strange truth . . . except she was now part of it, part of the whole organization. The brunette had done it for the money, of course. It was the quickest way to pay the bills and afford her mother’s medicine. Except fate changed as quickly as time, and now it felt as if she was juggling two separate lives altogether. 

“I’m hungry too,” Dorcas confessed, looking at him with excitement at the mention of fried chicken. She couldn’t remember the last time she had any, let alone when she had the time to properly sit and eat her plate’s worth. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy their meals . . . but sometimes the stress of her schedule caused her to be on the run, never wanting to be late for her shifts or breaking curfew. She couldn’t go upsetting her own mother now, not when she had been lying to the poor lady about her new job ; bartender was easier to explain that informant. 

“A million dollars? With that kind of money, you could practically run the city.” 

[doe-meads]

tndrhartd‌:

date: 29th march 1925, sunday location: these new york streets closed to @doe-meads

it was late by the time that arthur stepped out of the front of his store, making sure the door was tightly sealed, chains locked, front shuttered, even taking a step back to do an assessment for the hundredth time, before he was satisfied enough to walk away, feet leading him in the direction of boulevardier as it often did. sundays were one of their slower days, what with men having to carry the pretense of being upstanding heads of family, and most activities and gatherings around the city reserved for the weekend. were he more active in the community, arthur supposed he would be one of those people, with social circles and parties, flitting around friends’ homes, but his was a clandestine business, his identity not quite the norm, and frankly, he didn’t mind his small group of friends.

most of whom, truly, had become more than, dorcas being the foremost of those. was it a habit or a quiet arrangement, arthur didn’t know, but once they fell into the routine, it became like clockwork: arthur finishing work, going to pick her up as hers ended, then sharing the travel back to their building, catching up on how the other was doing, checking on each other, then finally sharing a meal; hardly as conventional as most families, but it was comforting, having that opportunity to make sure dorcas and her mother were doing as well as can be managed. for him, they were, in essence, living together as family, his adopted mother and his little sister…

… and at the sight of her, a wide smile broke out across arthur’s face, mixed with relief that she appeared fine. shifting the brown bag full of hot food he had tucked under his arm, he quickly made his way over to her, giving a small wave as he did then feeling foolish about it, but he couldn’t really feel bad, he just always felt excited seeing her again. “hey, doe-nut,” he pulled her close, giving her a half hug with one arm. “everything went good tonight? no fights or creeps?”

Sundays were good because they were easy — there wasn’t much of a crowd to entertain, which meant she could actually listen to Mary sing as she cleaned up the tables. It was a calm atmosphere, as most of their customers were snuggled at home, spending time with their loved ones after a long week of work. She almost envied them ; she would like to be home too, with her mother, trying to make good use of the free time. Ever since Dorcas started working for the Prewetts and as a bartender, her schedule quickly became packed with activities and work hours. She wasn’t complaining though, not when it provided a paycheck and monetary security for her mother’s doctors visits and medicines. It was the least she could do, the least she could sacrifice. 

After finishing up her shift, the brunette finally wandered into the streets, where she spotted a familiar face. As always, it would be rare if Arthur let her walk home alone, or eat alone, for that matter. She appreciated him, for he had been a constant figure in her life as she grew up, raised by a single mother and having to deal with their building’s other residents. Arthur was always nice though, always willing to help. She owed him, owed him for getting her this job ( as a bartender, as a spy ). 

“Hey Arthur,” Dorcas greeted, returning his hug. “No fights, no creeps.” 

“You ready for dinner?” 

[doe-meads]

closed: @ofmarlenethegreat​

The orders had been quick, the news of Evan Rosier getting arrested by the cops spreading like wildfire. This provided the perfect opportunity for the Prewetts to strike . . . although Dorcas wasn’t sure how she got thrown into this mission ; it wasn’t that she didn’t want to help, she just had no prior experience with being a runner. Still, none of that mattered, not when the clock was ticking and illegal booze awaited for their arrival. 

"Hey,” Dorcas greeted, nervous about the whole plan. “I’ve never stolen anything before.” Not like this, at least. Sure, playing spy had its own pressure, but being in the middle of the action was another type of danger entirely. 

“Well, I guess it’s not really stealing if it’s already illegal booze.” 

[temperancehq]

[doe-meads]

temperancehq‌:

DORCAS MEADOWES

Affiliate: Prewetts Occupation: Bartender at Boulevardier, Spy/Informer Age: 23 Gender/Pronouns: Cis woman, she/her FC Suggestions: Simay Barlas, Conor Leslie, Amber Midthunder, Sofia Carson

HISTORY

You were born with stars in your eyes. That’s what your mother always used to tell you, the sight of you the only thing that brought happiness onto her weary face. She chided herself for not doing better, but you never minded. You never dreamed of fame and fortune. Not everyone is born to be great. Some are satisfied with simple comforts - mastering the art of reading tarot cards, the touch of a lover, a good bottle of wine. People look down on you, but you know you’re the lucky one. They’ll spend their lives chasing the impossible, whilst you have everything you’ve ever wanted in the grasp of your fingertips. As it turns out however, there might be some value in paper riches. When your mother got sick, the tables turned on you. After all the sacrifices she had made for you, how could you not do the same? Working in a bar during Prohibition might seem senseless to some, but Evelyn pays well for risk. When that money wasn’t enough, you accepted a second offer, to get your hands dirty and whisper treacherous, secret things into the ears of a mob. Their ambitions aren’t yours, but for the moment, your fates are aligned.

CONNECTIONS

Remus Lupin: You don’t claim to be an expert on sniffing out secrets, but it’s clear to you that something is out of place where Remus is concerned. First, there’s their dynamic with Evelyn - a protectiveness that doesn’t appear from nowhere. Then, there’s their little band of misfits, everywhere and nowhere all at once. You haven’t quite touched on what it is yet, but you’re determined to figure out. Attaching yourself like a limpet, you’ve taken to spending more time with them - all of them - trying to slowly gain their trust. Given your mutual connection in Evelyn, Remus is your first target, but right now, they don’t seem to be biting.  

Arthur Weasley: Family has only ever been you and your mother - and for the most part, you don’t mind. It’s only in getting to know Arthur that you understand what it would be like to have an overprotective older brother. They were the one to approach you about becoming a spy, walking you through the process one step at a time. They’re easily the person you know best in the Prewett gang and have become a good friend. However, recently, things have changed. Arthur means well, you know they do, but they keep trying to pull you closer into the inner-fabric of the Prewett gang and induct you as a member of a larger family. You want no part in that, intending to shed yourself of the gang as soon as your mother’s well. But you don’t want to hurt them either, so for now, you tread a delicate line.

Rabastan Lestrange: They’re the enemy. Or at least, that’s what you’re told. Impatient, ruthless and cocky, with a tendency to drink a little more than is good for them, they were an easy target, a route into the Death Eater’s and their secrets. You try to remind yourself of that. But it’s not always easy. Rabastan matches your wit some charm of their own, tips generously and tells you things about themselves they’ve never told anyone, when the lights dim and it’s way past close. You’re not sure if you’d call them a friend, not sure if you could - not when you entered the relationship with such warped intentions - but you listen anyway, slip them an extra whiskey when Evelyn isn’t looking, read their fortune and pretend like you’re not growing more attached as each day passes.

[doe-meads]

sun-swallowedme‌:

where: the boulevardier 

who: open

James swirled his glass, the amber liquid catching the little light in the club. He didn’t always make it a point to spend the evening here, but he had felt the familiar itching under his skin, an impatience indicating that he needed to get out, to find something to occupy his time. Taking a sip of his drink, his eyes scanned the room for a solution to his problem, settling on a figure near the stage. Sauntering over, he slipped into the seat next to theirs, a smirk playing on his lips as he said, “Enjoying the show?” as he nodded up at Mary.

Her fingers scrubbed the damp towel across the table, annoyed by the stain that refused to disappear. Dorcas hadn’t even realized another customer approached her, catching her off guard. “ —hm? Yes, Mary is definitely the star attraction.” 

Granted, she would have enjoyed it more if people weren’t careless with their drinks, spilling them everywhere for her to clean up. She knew it was only part of the job . . . but that didn’t mean she liked it. 

“Let me know if you need another drink.” 

[doe-meads]

tedsdefiance‌:

date: march 30th, 1925 location: random street status: open

It wasn’t often that he paused to peer at a display of books, but Ted certainly had his moments. Since the birth of his daughter, and all that came afterwards, he had little time to sit and enjoy another’s literary work. And sometimes he would stand before a store, eyes scanning over familiar or strange titles, recalling stories known and imagining what could be held in the ones he hadn’t read. 

And it was in a moment like this he recognized the title, brows raising at the sight. “I should fancy, however, that murder is always a mistake. One should never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner,” he quoted, and he shook his head.

“Advice that some should take around here.”

It always felt strange to recognize customers outside the comforts of the Boulevardier. However, the book caught her attention, as well as the quote. Interesting. Sometimes it felt like talk of violence became second-nature within the world of gangs; sometimes it felt that she was getting lost herself. 

“What book is that?” 

“Maybe more people should be reading it.” 

[doe-meads]

syncopatedsongbird‌:

Mary loved her job, more than anything, truly, and it had almost no downsides. The one negative she would be willing to concede to was that working so late into the night meant she spent far too many sunlit hours asleep. She was still closer to asleep than awake when she first wandered into the park, but the warmth of the sun made her content. She spent her youth outside more than anywhere else, and there was something about the early spring air that left her feeling content. 

It hadn’t been long in her walk when she spotted Dorcas reading the paper nearby. Mary so rarely ran into the other woman outside of work that she almost didn’t recognize her. Adjusting her course to bring her to Dorcas, she greeted the woman warmly, a smile stretching wide on her face. “Dorcas! How are you?”

Dorcas was met by a familiar face, her fingers setting the newspaper aside as she greeted Mary. “ . . Mary, what a coincidence! I was just catching up on the news, actually. There’s been a break in at the DA’s office.” She held up the paper to show the singer the dynamic headline, a reminder that anything was possible in a city filled with dark corners. 

She supposed it was also slightly strange to see coworkers outside of work but . . . Mary had been safe, been unaffected by gangs and their chaos. “I’m good, I usually don’t come to the park often but . . . my mother ought I needed more fresh air,” she admitted, shaking her head slightly at the memory. “Apparently I don’t spend my free days socializing enough.” While her mother felt guilty about all the sacrifices Dorcas had to make . . .  wasn’t that the point? She was only doing this for her mother. It was the force that propelled her deeper into the beast of the belly ( into the world of mobs ). 

“What about you? What brings you here?”

[doe-meads]

marlenemckinno-n‌:

Marlene wasn’t expecting a serious response, so when the other woman held the newspaper out for her to see she pulled the paper closer so she could read a bit of the story. She didn’t know if this story would affect either of them, but it was fascinating. “Inside job?” she asked, her head tilting a bit to the side. “Probably more likely to be gang related, but it’s not like I know anything,” she said with a laugh. “We shouldn’t have to worry about it anyway, right?”

“It’s a theory,” she said, shrugging. “I feel like the DA’s office would be extra secure and someone on the inside would have to know how to get past everything.” 

Of course, it was also probable that the break-in was gang related. Anything was possible in this town. Whether or not their own group had been involved was . . . up in the air. Not that they would have any reason for doing such a thing . . . but who would tell her if they did? Dorcas was merely playing spy to get them information, not hold their secrets ( then again, wasn’t she bound by loyalty? ). 

“I don’t know, it’s too early to say.” 

“But I don’t see why we’d have any reason to worry. There’s barely any information, and it seems the DA’s office is keeping their lips sealed.” 

[doe-meads]

marlenemckinno-n‌:

Marlene didn’t often find herself in Central Park, though as she wandered the sidewalks she had to admit the fresh air was nice. There was always the potential to run into someone she knew, to get caught up in a conversation she didn’t exactly want to be having. Though, when she spotted a familiar brunette head off in the distance, she figured the small talk couldn’t be all too bad. 

The woman didn’t notice as Marlene approached, so she sat down beside her. “Anything interesting in that old thing?” she finally asked, once it was obvious the woman wasn’t going to notice what was right in front of her. It was nice to see Dorcas somewhere other than the bar, she had to admit. 

Her eyes strayed away from the text on the paper, her ears recognizing the voice that sat next to her. Two Prewett gang members sitting idly in central park . . . hopefully nothing would go wrong ( aside from her blatant paranoia ). She shifted, holding out the newspaper so the other could see, summarizing, “ there’s been a break in at the DA’s office.” 

“I’m wondering how it happened; maybe it was an inside job? Or . . maybe it was gang related.” 

[doe-meads]

ofremuslupin‌:

“ fine by me, ” he replied, smiling widely, “ i think your voice is rather grating anyways, so you’ll be doing me a favor. ” again, this was mean of him, but remus had no reason to be nice to her. they weren’t friends, they weren’t acquaintances – they were nothing. most people would consider being nice to be just a simple basic kindness, deserving to everyone, but dorcas hadn’t ever endeared herself to him.

“ i’m not a detective by any means, but i’m flattered you think i could be one – even a bad one. ” he grinned. “ but that might show poor judgement on your part. ”

She clenched her jaw, refusing to respond. Instead, she chose to turn the page of the newspaper, continuing her read and effectively ignoring the marauder next to her. Allegedly, there have been no comments from the D.A.’s office about the incident; she wondered if there was any reason for that ( or maybe they had nothing to say? ). A break in wasn’t something to be proud of, especially given their stature. She couldn’t help but theorize how it might’ve been an inside job — how else would they gain access to the office? 

Of course, there was still an annoying buzz next to her ear. One that wouldn’t stop talking . . . and to think that she had been waiting for him to speak beyond clipped sentences. Just her luck. 

“ . . . are you done? I’m busy. Go play detective elsewhere.” 

[doe-meads]

ofremuslupin‌: 

there was no doubting that remus had more than his fair share of brushes with death. he shouldn’t have survived infancy, doctors said, and then they said he wouldn’t reach five and then ten. it was always another endpoint set, and somehow, someway, he had them setting a new timeline. when younger, remus lived for defying these expectations, to see the smile of his mother who shoved his thriving in the faces of his doctors, but now he wasn’t sure what he lived for. he had never had goals or dreams when he was younger, and he still didn’t think he had any.

“ cheers to coping mechanisms, ” he said, his mouth twisting into a wry smile as he raised his glass slightly towards dorcas before he brought it up to his mouth. he hadn’t ever gotten to the point where he relied on ways to cope, he didn’t think. he was negative and cynical, yes, but he thought that was more of a defense mechanism than coping. he just didn’t want people close to him. there were differences – or so he told himself.

he finished his drink with another gulp before he nodded. “ the boulevardier has better everything. better drinks, better environment – everything. ” he would support the boulevardier until the end. “ why else would i spend all my time there ? ”

She felt better about having something settle into her stomach, something that would put her at ease. One drink wasn’t enough to alter her persona, but it definitely allowed her to relax, feeling less paranoid about the sights and sounds around them. All she had to do was pretend that everything was just peachy; wasn’t that her greatest talent, after all? While she had clear concerns, and worries, there was only so much she could focus on ( she had to sink or swim ). 

“There’s something we can agree on,” she added, nodding. 

“Boulevardier is probably the safest, and best, place in town.” 

Gangs and violence littered the streets, otherwise. Despite that, Evelyn had managed to create a haven within the eye of a hurricane. Dorcas was simply lucky to have gotten a job there, along with another one. All of it was nearly impossible without the Boulevardier. 

[doe-meads]

ofremuslupin‌:

it was a public place, she had that going for her, but remus was already on a roll. “ sure, dorcas, whatever you say. sometimes i’m inclined to think otherwise. ” he raised his eyebrows in a cajoling gesture. he wasn’t sure why he had begun talking to her in the first place. really, he tried to ignore her as best he could, but now he was simply being mean to be mean. this wasn’t like him. “ you do seem to like talking to me. ”

he took a seat next to her on the park bench, leaning over to look at the newspaper. “ might as well ask what you’re doing then, if it’s not stalking me. ” he leaned back on the bench, giving her a look. “ i heard about the break-in. i wonder if they’ll catch who did it. ” it was a sudden shift for him but he was quick to change manner again. “ was it you, dorcas ? after all, you’re not always at the boulevardier. are you a thief in your spare time ? ”

“Then I won’t talk to you,” she replied, rather annoyed by his sudden presence. Dorcas focused her attention back towards the newspaper instead, trying to finish up the detailed article. She turned away from him and expected him to leave, however, it seemed that she really couldn’t predict what Remus Lupin would do next. He opted to sit next to her, which only caused her to give him a confused look. If he was so intrigued by the paper, he could’ve easily bought one himself! 

Not to mention, the accusations continued — and suddenly she turned from stalker into thief. It took all her patience, and basic manners, to not take the newspaper, roll it up, and whack him with it. “No, I read in my spare time.” 

“And you like to play detective, apparently. You’re very bad at it.” 

[doe-meads]

ofremuslupin‌:

it was easy to forget that, at the very core of this party, behind the lights and the liquor, this was about the death of a man. he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he found himself nodding. “ no, i don’t think many people do. ” this might have been the nicest he’d ever been to dorcas – it came without a rebuttal or disagreement. he knew that he himself didn’t favor death. it had took his mother when he instead had been marked for it since birth. death, while seemingly obvious to understand, was nothing akin to fair. he paused, letting silence hang between them before saying, “ i don’t suppose i’m too fond of it either. ”

life was not kind to remus lupin and in its face he had decided to say fuck you. he took risk when he should have held back. he was trying to make it his own despite trial and tribulation. he shrugged his shoulders. “ don’t you think some people might lie to themselves to make it easier to get through the hell they call life ? ” he let out a laugh but he couldn’t help the wobble of his jaw. was that what he did ? did he lie to himself to pretend things were better than they were ? he couldn’t think about that.

he nodded at her last remark. “ yeah, i think a drink would be good. ” considering his last one ended up on the floor and then was punctuated with this conversation, he could very well do with some alcohol. it might not be the best option for him, but the fuzz that would take over his brain would make this conversation easier. he turned to a waiter and grabbed two flutes of something – he didn’t ask. he held one out to her. “ here. ”

Strange . . . they actually agreed one something ( for once ). Perhaps it was an indication how miserable they both felt at this current party, perhaps they both just needed to kill time and blend into the background. She didn’t know; she never knew much when it involved Remus Lupin. However, their conversation was spinning into a direction that she didn’t have the energy for at the moment — she didn’t want to reveal all her thoughts and feelings about death, mortality, change. There was only so much before she slipped out something important, something hidden. 

The way he spoke and acted . . . it almost concerned her. Almost. They weren’t friends, they were barely acquaintances at best. If he felt this displeased with everything then . . . what could she do? It wasn’t her problem, although it definitely created an obstacle in getting closer to him. If it wasn’t for the potential information, she liked to think that she wouldn’t even bat an eyelash in his direction. “They probably do, people have . . plenty of coping mechanisms.” 

Taking the drink, she quickly took a much awaited sip, almost trying to figure out if she could identify the liquor in the mixed concoction. “ thanks, and cheers,” she mumbled, raising her glass slightly before continuing to drink the alcohol. 

“ . . . and the drinks at the Boulevardier are definitely better,” she concluded. 

[doe-meads]

ofremuslupin‌:

with every inhale, the cool air burned in remus’ lungs but he still thought it was a nice day out. he walked down the street, his hands in his pockets, his gaze forward. he had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. inevitably, he would end up back at the boulevardier ( in his mind, this wasn’t a problem ) and he would settle into the evening with his friends beside him and a laugh in his throat. it was how it always went.

the grass and ground squished underneath his feet as he cut through the park. he could have walked around, he had the time certainly, but it seemed the right move to make. his shoes might be muddy by the time he got across but that wasn’t something that mattered much. his eyes gazed along the people in the park. there were parents with children, smiling and laughing ( something he never experienced ) and there were people sitting and enjoy the nice weather.

he walked further into the park, no one sticking out until –

“ are you following me or something, dorcas ? ” his eyes fell to his watch but he wrenched his gaze to her and said, “ i normally only see you at the boulevardier. i’ll never leave there, but am i going to have to start avoiding the park now too ? ” it was harsh. he was harsh. but none of his friends were around to tell him to be kinder to the girl. 

Her eyes were pried away from the text on the paper by the sound of a rather familiar voice, along with the face of someone who definitely didn’t look too pleased to see her. While he had the innate ability to prick her skin, she actually felt offended this time by his comments; she was minding her own business whereas he had interrupted her. Funny, wasn’t it? 

“Remus . . . I’m not obsessed with you.” only a little bit, if she was being honest. Mostly because he seemed to know information, he seemed to be the heart of the marauders. Of course, that didn’t mean she would spend her precious day off stalking him into oblivion. The mere idea of that caused her to glare at him; who did he think she was? Dorcas had better things to do with her time. 

“It’s my day off and I’m reading something important in a public park. If you’re so bothered, keep walking.”