Somewhere Beyond The Sea
By DuoLordOfDeath
Disclaimer: The characters nor the song are mine. They are property of J.K. Rowling and T.B. Harms Co.!
"I would rather live and love where death is king than have eternal life where love is not ."
-Robert G. Ingersoll
~*Chapter One - Night On The Endless Sea*~
The night...
The soft whispering of voices came to his ears as he began to awaken. It was a vague murmur, no words were clear, and yet it was obvious that people were speaking to one another in secretive, hushed tones. It was like seeing through a foggy window; he could make out shapes and forms, but nothing definete, despite the close proximity the voices spoke in. It reminded him of something from long ago...something that his sleep-deprived mind struggled to remember, but couldn't quite grasp. The darkness seemed to consume all that he heard and returned it in a jumbled mess of inconsistancies...
Below him, the ground lurched in a slow, painful manner, and fell, as though it were a lugubrious roller coaster car. The sensation caused his stomach to turn, and he groaned, putting a hand down to steady himself. But his palm failed to find the lumpy bedding as his support...rather, it was damp, rigid wood, grainy and unforgiving against his slight touch. A bit surprised, he withdrew his hand from it and rised his head, looking down.
A cool breeze brushed against his fevered face as he looked up, brushing tawney strands of hair about his face. It smelled of sea salt and brine, and it held a certain dampness to it. Furrowing his brow, he attempted to open his eyes a bit further, trying to ignore the ill feeling, and blinked. Just as the voices were vague, so too were the shapes he saw. His vision was blurry, which was odd, considering that his entire life, he'd been gifted with keen eyesight. It was odd to think that now, after seventy-three years of perfect service, his eyes were failing. But after a moment, he realized that it was only due to sleep. It was then that he heard the unmistakable sound of crashing waves against the hull of a ship.
Gasping, he stumbled to his feet as the ship lurched forward on the water again, and he steadied himself for it. This was not where he had been when he had fallen asleep only hours ago...how was it possible that he fell asleep in his own bed...and awoke on a ship in the middle of the sea? Ignoring the crowds of people that sat on the deck as he passed, he staggered to the front bow and grasped the railing tightly, looking overboard and readying himself to wretch.
However...he never managed to get that far. Instead, he inhaled sharply.
Gazing back at him from the rippling depths was his own reflection...but it wasn't. This young man that met his in the water was far from the face of the Remus J. Lupin that had fallen asleep in his lonely flat but hours ago.
Tawney brown hair framed a young face where silvery strands had once fallen about an aged, world-weary countenace...clear blue eyes were wide with surprise...his face, once so lined with the weight of seventy years, was full and youthful. Strong but slender shoulders filled a set of shabby but well-tended robes...and no signs of lycanthropy were evident about him. Instinctively, he looked sharply up at the moon, and found that he could openly gaze upon the face of the full moon...with purely human eyes.
"No...what is this..."he heard himself say, his voice strong and young once again. He stumbled back away from the railing and turned, his expression filled with confusion and fear. Several people were looking at him curiously, as if they all knew something that he did not. He also noticed that, aside from all of them being young and in the prime of their life, they were all dressed in one of two ways. Some were dressed in fine robes worn by witches and wizards, and others were dressed in the Muggle fashion...he found it odd that Muggles and magical folk would be in such close confines and be so blatant about their heritage...
"Excuse me dear...but is something troubling you?" came a gentle voice from his left, and Remus looked over and found himself looking into the face of a young lady; a witch by her dress. She was a bit mousey but kind, and was smiling compassionately. Her eyes were young, and yet they held the weight and knowledge of many years in their tranquil gaze.
Sighing, he put a hand to his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the fact that it too, was young and able once again. "Yes...I'm afraid I don't understand how I arrived here, nor why I look the way I do, or how it is that I can look at the moon without..." he trailed off. "I don't even know where I am..."
The young woman laughed gently and put a hand on his shoulder reassureingly.
"Do not be afraid...you are not the only one to not know...which I find odd, since all the others who were confused were Muggles. But you, quite obviously, are a wizard..." She paused, and looked out over the sea for a moment before looking back at him. "We are beyond the veil through which those who are living cannot pass, and from which spirits cannot return..."
Remus could've sworn he felt his breath cease as she spoke those words. Beyond the veil...the veil...the vague murmuring of voices...it all went back to the night in which Remus' world had, for the second time, disentigrated around him and sent him spiraling into a hell that he had never fully recovered from. Remus closed his eyes as the forty year old memory of Sirius' death attacked him again; how many years had he gone trying to forget the haunting images...how many years had he awaited death, knowing that the wolf within would not give him up so easily...Ten years he had dedicated to the fall of Voldemort, and the thirty years after that had been in solitude, trying to force his memories into submission and keep his sanity. For the most part it had worked; he'd been able to remain calm, though hollow...and now...
"I'm...dead..." he said flatly to himself as the young woman walked away. "Dead...and this..this ship must be...akin to the ferry that transported the dead across the River Styx into the Greek Underworld..."
He shuddered at the thought of his afterlife being so cruel and dismal...if such was the cold depths of Death...then he far preferred the dismal realms of the living...
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By DuoLordOfDeath
Disclaimer: The characters nor the song are mine. They are property of J.K. Rowling and T.B. Harms Co.!
"I would rather live and love where death is king than have eternal life where love is not ."
-Robert G. Ingersoll
~*Chapter One - Night On The Endless Sea*~
The night...
The soft whispering of voices came to his ears as he began to awaken. It was a vague murmur, no words were clear, and yet it was obvious that people were speaking to one another in secretive, hushed tones. It was like seeing through a foggy window; he could make out shapes and forms, but nothing definete, despite the close proximity the voices spoke in. It reminded him of something from long ago...something that his sleep-deprived mind struggled to remember, but couldn't quite grasp. The darkness seemed to consume all that he heard and returned it in a jumbled mess of inconsistancies...
Below him, the ground lurched in a slow, painful manner, and fell, as though it were a lugubrious roller coaster car. The sensation caused his stomach to turn, and he groaned, putting a hand down to steady himself. But his palm failed to find the lumpy bedding as his support...rather, it was damp, rigid wood, grainy and unforgiving against his slight touch. A bit surprised, he withdrew his hand from it and rised his head, looking down.
A cool breeze brushed against his fevered face as he looked up, brushing tawney strands of hair about his face. It smelled of sea salt and brine, and it held a certain dampness to it. Furrowing his brow, he attempted to open his eyes a bit further, trying to ignore the ill feeling, and blinked. Just as the voices were vague, so too were the shapes he saw. His vision was blurry, which was odd, considering that his entire life, he'd been gifted with keen eyesight. It was odd to think that now, after seventy-three years of perfect service, his eyes were failing. But after a moment, he realized that it was only due to sleep. It was then that he heard the unmistakable sound of crashing waves against the hull of a ship.
Gasping, he stumbled to his feet as the ship lurched forward on the water again, and he steadied himself for it. This was not where he had been when he had fallen asleep only hours ago...how was it possible that he fell asleep in his own bed...and awoke on a ship in the middle of the sea? Ignoring the crowds of people that sat on the deck as he passed, he staggered to the front bow and grasped the railing tightly, looking overboard and readying himself to wretch.
However...he never managed to get that far. Instead, he inhaled sharply.
Gazing back at him from the rippling depths was his own reflection...but it wasn't. This young man that met his in the water was far from the face of the Remus J. Lupin that had fallen asleep in his lonely flat but hours ago.
Tawney brown hair framed a young face where silvery strands had once fallen about an aged, world-weary countenace...clear blue eyes were wide with surprise...his face, once so lined with the weight of seventy years, was full and youthful. Strong but slender shoulders filled a set of shabby but well-tended robes...and no signs of lycanthropy were evident about him. Instinctively, he looked sharply up at the moon, and found that he could openly gaze upon the face of the full moon...with purely human eyes.
"No...what is this..."he heard himself say, his voice strong and young once again. He stumbled back away from the railing and turned, his expression filled with confusion and fear. Several people were looking at him curiously, as if they all knew something that he did not. He also noticed that, aside from all of them being young and in the prime of their life, they were all dressed in one of two ways. Some were dressed in fine robes worn by witches and wizards, and others were dressed in the Muggle fashion...he found it odd that Muggles and magical folk would be in such close confines and be so blatant about their heritage...
"Excuse me dear...but is something troubling you?" came a gentle voice from his left, and Remus looked over and found himself looking into the face of a young lady; a witch by her dress. She was a bit mousey but kind, and was smiling compassionately. Her eyes were young, and yet they held the weight and knowledge of many years in their tranquil gaze.
Sighing, he put a hand to his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the fact that it too, was young and able once again. "Yes...I'm afraid I don't understand how I arrived here, nor why I look the way I do, or how it is that I can look at the moon without..." he trailed off. "I don't even know where I am..."
The young woman laughed gently and put a hand on his shoulder reassureingly.
"Do not be afraid...you are not the only one to not know...which I find odd, since all the others who were confused were Muggles. But you, quite obviously, are a wizard..." She paused, and looked out over the sea for a moment before looking back at him. "We are beyond the veil through which those who are living cannot pass, and from which spirits cannot return..."
Remus could've sworn he felt his breath cease as she spoke those words. Beyond the veil...the veil...the vague murmuring of voices...it all went back to the night in which Remus' world had, for the second time, disentigrated around him and sent him spiraling into a hell that he had never fully recovered from. Remus closed his eyes as the forty year old memory of Sirius' death attacked him again; how many years had he gone trying to forget the haunting images...how many years had he awaited death, knowing that the wolf within would not give him up so easily...Ten years he had dedicated to the fall of Voldemort, and the thirty years after that had been in solitude, trying to force his memories into submission and keep his sanity. For the most part it had worked; he'd been able to remain calm, though hollow...and now...
"I'm...dead..." he said flatly to himself as the young woman walked away. "Dead...and this..this ship must be...akin to the ferry that transported the dead across the River Styx into the Greek Underworld..."
He shuddered at the thought of his afterlife being so cruel and dismal...if such was the cold depths of Death...then he far preferred the dismal realms of the living...
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