goneawayworld | Not Sleeping Like a Dog

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Not Sleeping Like a Dog

Who: Sirius and Open
What: A great big “dog” sniffing around the Rig. Come and get any much needed therapy dog cuddles and a much more understanding dog than most-- or just find him shapeshifting.
Where: About the rig
When: Night, prior to the Adverse Rig Event
Warnings/Notes: References to imprisonment and dealing with the effects of that. There will be talk of murder and probably PTSD flashbacks in the thread with Remus. Smoking in the thread with Saturday. Will add more here as needed.

I can switch to actionspam if you prefer that.

A. Padding Around (Open)

Sirius couldn’t sleep. Considering he wasn’t welcome in his room and also that he’d taken to spending his nights as a dog lately, this wasn’t surprising. Sirius first started his nightly wandering of the halls as his usual self, then turned into his Animagus form. It was easier to be a dog, less painful, and the smells were far more interesting.

He also had the vague idea that if he were caught like this, he might be in less trouble. Or he might be in more. He’d find out once that happened.

He didn’t check out any rooms just yet. He was just wandering around and getting a mental layout of the place. If anyone approached him, he’d wag his tail and walk slowly toward them. Just a normal, friendly dog. Granted, this dog was huge Newfound-like dog, the size of a short person. Black and shaggy, he could be either terrifying or adorable, depending on one’s view.

Unless they happened to catch him while changing back to Sirius Black, as he sometimes did. In which case, they’d just get a sheepish grin.

B. I Solemnly Swear I Didn’t Betray Our Friends (Closed to Remus)

To say it had been a long day was an understatement. Sirius longed to sleep. And they had actual beds here. On the way to his room he imagined what it would be like to have a nice, restful night in peace and quie--

He stopped just inside of his room. He knew he’d have a roommate, of course. He just didn’t think it’d be…

“Remus,” he said quietly. “This is your room?”

The last time they’d talked had not gone well. It’d been pretty close to explosive, really. Sirius had little hope that this time would be better.

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"A human that turns into a dog. So weirder, I'm afraid."

His light tone and casual attitude gave way to uneasiness at the change in questioning. He shifted a little. Well, that did answer whether or not she'd met Remus. Or rather if Remus had mentioned him.

"No, I was in Azkaban before I came here." Best get it over with. "It's a prison."

Saturday clicks her tongue, sympathetic. "Rough luck, chummer. What'd they do ya for?"

Her attitude shifts with his confession; a part of her relaxes, and another part grows wary. Saturday grew up around criminals, admired a fair number of them, and doesn't particularly fear them, which isn't the same as thinking they're not dangerous. It's a different set of rules, that's all, and one that sits far more familiarly and comfortably on a Red Town girl than most.

That change in Saturday wasn't unexpected and Sirius knew it was about to get worse. He braced himself for what followed.

"I was framed for murder." It wasn't strange to think or say. He'd spent a year living the cold reality of that statement. Azkaban was obviously not kind. "They never gave me a trial." He sighed, shoulders sagging. "It's up to you if you believe me. I have no proof I can give here." Or at home-- that is until he found the rat who set him up.

"That sucks, man." Saturday nods, understanding. Truth or not, he believes it, and she's not involved, so it doesn't cost her anything to not care. Besides, sometimes murder is entirely justified; there's a lot of ways to be innocent.

"What happened? Someone make you the fall guy?"

He'd already unloaded everything on poor Stacia. Going through it all once was enough for now unless Saturday asked for the full story. For now, she got the short version.

"Yes, someone who I thought was my friend betrayed us." Sirius had improved. He no longer sounded full of venom when referring to Peter although he ground his teeth. "My best friends were killed and when I went after him, he set me up." So really, he would have committed a murder if circumstances permitted, but Peter had it coming.

Saturday sucks in a breath. "That'll happen. Friend of mine, Dmitri, went through something similar. Johnson fucked him on a run, killed his crew and his girl. He got busted out of lockup before they transferred him, though. It's how he ended up working for his organization."

Saturday has never heard of wizard politics, and is applying the only context she knows.

"I hope you get the bastard."

Those words sounded vaguely criminal, mainly "on the run" "crew" and, more tellingly, "his organization." Sirius's eyes narrowed for a brief moment as he looked closer at Saturday.

Then his thoughts shifted back to Pettigrew.

"If they don't send me back to Azkaban, I will." Sirius's eyes gleamed at the thought. He'd hunt Pettigrew down until he had his hands on his throat. He'd worry about how he'd track him later.

Of course the key word was if he didn't get sent back to Azkaban.

He snapped out of his own thoughts. "Did your friend get Johnson?"

Saturday grins, a little too sharply. "He did. 'bout five years later. Dumb fucker popped up in Rio working under the same false name he'd used when he burned Dmitri. He put together a crew and, uh, exradited him. Turned out, he'd fucked Ice Pick in the first place because he was planning to burn the organization; D's crew was just collateral damage. The big man himself wanted a crack at this poor piece a' shit."

Saturday shakes her head, pitying but amused at the fate of those who overestimate their skills.

"Anyway, no one ever heard from him again."

Saturday certainly sounded like she had more experience in the criminal realm than was safe to speak about when they could be recorded. Well, maybe. Sirius had no problems talking about his but he'd let it and his Animagus abilities slip right away. Not that it had mattered once Remus knew he was here.

Well, the point was. He thought it was best to let Saturday decide just how much she wanted to say.

So he just gave her a curious look. "I see. I like the ending to that story."

"It was a great ending for everyone except the ratfucker." Saturday shrugs. "But I mean, like they say, play stupid games, win stupid prizes. If you're gonna try an' burn a Russian organization, don't leave survivors."

She feels around her pockets and finally withdraws a pack of cigarettes. There's only four left. She's been guarding them like they're the holy grail, but if anyone deserves one -

"Smoke? To celebrate your early release, an' all - here's hoping when we get back, they dumb you outside the walls."

"Merlin, it's been ages." Sirius looked with longing at the cigarettes. His vices tended more toward drinking than smoking, but he'd enjoyed both.

Right now he really didn't care if he got in trouble for this. He didn't even bother looking for the cameras, that'd only make it look worse.

"Yes, if you're offering." He half expected her to change her mind. It would be his luck. "Their aim will have to be more off than that." Although if he could get outside the walls, he might be able to swim to shore, if he could get his endurance back.

He filed that thought away for later.

Saturday hands the precious cancer stick over with no more than a brief pang of agony.

"Careful with it, these are the last four 'til I can swipe or sweet talk more. They believe in bein' healthful, as a corporate policy."

She offers her lighter after sparking up her smoke, and inhales a long, grateful drag.

"Don't worry about the cameras," she says, gesturing towards them. "Damn things don't work, at least in the halls."

Edited 2020-06-21 23:00 (UTC)

"If they believe that, they need to feed us more." It was blatantly obvious that Sirius could use it although he was still gaining his weight back.

He took the cigarette as if it were a holy item. He wasn't used to using a lighter, preferring a quick spell, but he'd done it enough that lighting the cigarette wasn't a problem. He pressed it to his lips and closed his eyes as he took a drag.

Amazing. "Thank you," he said as he breathed out.

Saturday had now earned his respect and reverence. Her comment on the cameras helped. Now that was more helpful than the cigarette. He raised one eyebrow and smiled at her. "Aren't you clever? I won't ask how you found that out."

"Oh, but their meals are carefully calibrated by expert nutritionists to provide a perfectly adequate and balanced diet to their valued workers!" Saturday chirps, in frightening good imitation of their corporate masters.

"Course," she continues in a more normal tone, "That doesn't account for people with powers or magic that fuck with their metabolism, or big bastards like Guts an' Loken. Assholes."

His reaction to the cigarette is gratifying; at least it is sacrificed to a worthy petitioner. She snorts at his comment about the cameras.

"Nah, another fellow figured it out. I'm just helping pass word - be careful, I only know for sure that the hall cameras don't work. The place is also riddled with void space, good for caches and passing messages. Overall, th' only thing Jorg really has on us is the fucking nanochains; nothing else of theirs seems to really work as advertised."

Unfortunately, the nanochains are a hell of an advantage.

Magic that can fuck with the metabolism. They really were all from different worlds.

"Void space?" Sirius felt a pang of something like guilt at not having found this out for himself. Or was it closer to regret? He would have scouted things out before and tried to find every secret but these days all he really wanted to do was eat, sleep, and just wander when he couldn't do either.

That wasn't like him. Imagine what James would say.

"The nanochains are effective, I'll give them that."

"Like," she gestures with her cigarette, trailing smoke. "Vents, ducts, places where pipes and wiring didn't get put together as neat as it coulda an' you got gaps. Biggest ones I've found only fit two people, if neither's a claustrophobe. Still useful."

Saturday broods for a moment at his mention of the nanochain, trying not to feel it wrapped around her spine. She knows that she technically can't, but she can, every moment she isn't actively making herself not think about it. Like when Maggie was missing.

"Fucking nanochains. They've gotta be Stuff or somethin', they work too well an' on everyone, even people who're real weird physically."

Pipes and wiring. They didn't have any of the latter at Hogwarts and he'd never bothered much with the piping. But he recognized the potential there. He nodded. "Ah, not a bad name for it."

When he saw Saturday's reaction to the nanochains, he almost felt bad for focusing on it. But it was something they should talk about if they wanted to get rid of them. Sirius felt divided about staying but that damn thing had to go.

"I thought it was magic or technology. They seem to be very against Stuff here. If Stuff is as unpredictable as they say, I don't believe it's stable enough for them to put it in us. Not safely." If and safely being the key words because Sirius didn't buy everything they said and as for safety... well, they'd demonstrated how much they cared about their well being.

"How against the Stuff can they really be?" Saturday snorts. "The Stuff is why they're in charge of this joint. Without it, who needs Jorgmund? They have an incentive to manage it, sure, but a bigger one to figure out how to control it."

She broods on this for a moment. "Why not use us as petri dishes? They don't really think of us as fully real people, I'm pretty sure. I'm not sure they think of themselves as real people... this whole world is so. I dunno. Broken. Like I come from a place with some real fucking problems but at least our material reality is in one piece."

Sirius grinned. "I like the way you think."

He had no idea what a petri dish was, no one had thought to explain it to him, but now wasn't the time to ask. He'd have to ask Remus later... oh.

It was a good reason they had switched to a heavier topic. There were plenty of good reasons for Sirius's face to darken and none of them involved his former-- friend.

"So is mine." Another drag and he let out a long, smoke filled breath. "They wouldn't be the first people to use something they hate as a weapon. People can rationalize a lot in the name of 'good' or what they think is good."

"You're telling me," she snorts, and takes her own drag. "Doesn't even gotta be that. It can just be 'good for them,' an' hang the consequences for everyone else."

There's a satellite photo she saw once, of the Red Town/Seattle border. A slum on one side, and a gold course on the other. There'd been a wedding going on, with horses and white dresses, not five hundred yards from a place where children died screaming in their own shit.

"Hell of a damn place. I guess it's better than prison, but not by much."

"No, it's much better. You don't know what Azkaban is," Sirius said darkly. His eyes had a deadened look and he pressed the cigarette to his lips again. At this rate it wouldn't last long but no one could say he wasn't enjoying every moment.

He'd heard that Muggle prisons were better. Not great, of course, how could losing your freedom be good? But the thought of going to Azkaban caused many to shudder.

"Do you know what Dementors are?"

"...no? They don't sound like cool chummers, though." Dementor like to dementate like to go crazy? Saturday doesn't like the sound of that.

"Azkaban one 'a those roach motel black sites, then?" Check in, but you don't check out; they're the most likely prison for a runner caught red handed. The man was in some shit, if he ended up in one of those. Her estimation may have to rise.

"I don't know what that is." He took a deep breath. It was impossible to think of Dementors without remembering what he'd gone through for one year. "Dementors feed on happiness. They make you remember all your worse memories until there's nothing left."

"...jesus." Saturday makes a face, and then, wordlessly, fishes out a second cigarette and gives it to him.

"Who the fuck came up with that idea - what the fuck? That musta been a black site, probably fuckin' Aztechnology. Or whoever your local version is."

Sirius, who had just finished his cigarette after that explanation, flicked the stub away. He started to reach for the second cigarette when he noticed his fingers shaking. He paused, steadied himself, and took it.

"Now I really owe you." He tried smiling but it was only a twitch of his mouth.

"I don't know who came up with it but it's been prison for wizards and witches for-- I'm not sure. I don't think we ever covered that in history of magic. I'd guess centuries."

He took a breath and held up the unlit cigarette. "Are you sure?"

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