capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

Who: Miles Edgeworth/

natureinblood
When: 3 November. Morning.
Where: The forest.
Summary: The full moon and the first day of Desire's plot has run its course on Remus. He decides that fucking off would be a good idea. Edgeworth has other ideas. Fucked up relationship dynamics are go.
Warnings: A distinct lack of proper clothes, blood, shouting, and an amusing similarity to events in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
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Blood. Frozen in the frost that covered the ground and him as he forced himself up from it, moving slowly to avoid aggravating the only wound he seemed to have suffered during the night; a series of minor scratches on his face and sides. It was likely from moving through the brush, perhaps a fall, but the blood on the ground wasn't his.

The remains of an animal - Remus hoped it was an animal, his stomach turning as he attempted ot piece together last night - lay only a few feet away, blood covering the ground around it, and him. Using the rapidly melting frost, he scrubbed furiously at his face and arms, determined to rid himself of it until the ache in his muscles settled, allowing him to rise up and retrieve his wand and clothes.

The death of the animal did not bother him, but the previous treatment of Miles - the concussion and probable broken arm that he'd given the man - made it difficult to not simply sit here until he starved to death or tore himself apart on the next full moon. It didn't matter that there was no wizarding world here, he would not return to the house and put the twins and Blue in danger.

The more cynical part of him feared and assumed that Edgeworth wouldn't even allow him to if he made an attempt. Satisfied that he had rid himself of as much blood as possible, he stood up, walking automatically through the trees, finding the path as easily as he had lost it. He dressed mechanically, robes, socks, and boots. He began to lace the boots up, wand between his teeth.

It was then that he realized that there was someone somewhere nearby. Not the boy, George, but a human. A familiar one at that.

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His arm still throbbed, especially now that he was in the cold and open air; he wondered whether or not it felt as bad as it might have were he not used to the chill of his own powers. He had found that he could tolerate lower temperatures than he was capable of before, at the very least. Still, there wasn't a way to check, and the dull pain in the limb bound in plaster and hanging in a sling at his side only reminded him of what he'd come to take care of.

Edgeworth had chosen to get treatment the normal way--the Muggle way, as Remus would have no doubt said--even though it had meant he would be minus the use of that arm for some weeks longer than would have been the case with the healers' arts. It made a very visible point, and would continue to do so until at least the next full moon. If the need arose sometime later, he could have one of the metahumans finish fixing it, but he rather doubted that.

Still, he wasn't entirely stupid; he had never found out exactly when the moon liked to let up on its hold over the wizard, and consequently, had a series of thick plates floating around him as he walked. If he was attacked, it would only be a moment to change their form and encase the assailant in blocks of bluish-white, allowing him time enough to flee if need be.

That was his plan, anyway. It was clear from the familiar thin sword in his gloved grip that he'd taken other precautions, just in case.

If only his senses were as good as those belonging to Remus. Hunting someone down in a wide forest was not easy to begin with, and a little more difficult when one had not slept on top of that.

Edgeworth peered around, trying to catch sight of the other, idly wondering if he should have brought some kind of binoculars.

He could have easily Apparated away, leaving what was likely going to be a very potential argument exactly where it should be - unspoken - but curiosity, and the desire to see Miles, kept him from moving. Instead, he leaned back against a tree just along the path, arms crossed, and his wand held loosely in one hand.

The sun had yet to appear over the trees and fog curled up from the grass, making the forest appear even more strange than it had during the night. He could still smell the blood from the animal he had killed during the night, the echoes of it clinging to his skin and hanging in the area.

Footsteps, careful and evenly paced on the ground grew louder and Remus continued to wait, refusing stubbornly to give in, and meet him. A few animals moved in the trees behind him before a rabbit burst from a nearby thicket, shooting across the path and into the brush.

Remus tensed, ignoring the sudden desire to hunt, reminding himself forcefully that he was man, not beast.

It was beginning to get more difficult to ignore.

Edited 2009-11-05 04:47 (UTC)

The remnants of the frost crunched underfoot as he got closer to where the wizard was; he cursed inwardly at his lack of training in how to sneak up on someone--not that there was particularly a point in doing so, as such things were never really necessary for prosecutors and their like. It made him feel a little better to be angry about it, though, and so he was.

The sound of the rabbit breaking out made him start; his head snapped round to face the noise, and he ran after it. It was was the only clue he'd had so far, after all.

What he found was not a fluffy white animal--not even a mangy dust-colored one, which he suddenly thought that he would almost have preferred, coming out from behind a small stand of young trees and freezing (no puns intended, naturally) in his tracks.

Remus was there, waiting; Edgeworth recalled that the other would have heard him coming some way off and scowled darkly for a moment before clearing the expression back out of view.

A pointed clearing of his throat, staring at--through?--the other, and he waited for some kind of reply.

Let Remus start this off. He could afford to listen to any number of pathetic arguments the man had cooked up. He would still be right, in the end.

Sneaking up on a known werewolf, especially one who had only recently broken your arm, was likely a very bad idea, and Remus was glad for the warning. There was nothing for him to be angry about, feeling only a peculiar sense of waiting and acceptance to what he assumed would turn into an argument.

His body still ached from the transformation, the cold doing nothing to help the situation. He wanted to be at home, with the comforting smells and sounds of the people he had rapidly found himself caring about here, not standing in the early morning chill, preparing to deny himself all of that.

His eyes flickered briefly from the spot where the rabbit had disappeared to Miles. He ignored the ice, his eyes focusing immediately on the cast, remembering how easily the limb had snapped under his hand. For an instant, he looked horrified at the clear evidence of what he had done, before he managed to calm himself.

It only reinforced his belief that he had become too dangerous. He had injured others before; Sirius and James especially during their school days and Sirius here, once, but this had not been during the full moon. He had still been as much of a man as his body allowed him to be.

"You didn't seek out a healer," he said, his voice forcing the calm that he so desperately needed.