Descend - Wolfstar + Marauders

The Commune

She wasn’t like Oliver. She didn’t have the commanding presence or the natural charisma or that take no shit attitude that came from a lifetime of adversity and having to fight.

She was thoughtful, intellectual. She could be firm when she needed, but her real strength was in her ability to make even the most stubborn and warped individuals see her perspective. Quietly persuasive and remarkably calm under pressure. Annabelle was not Oliver, but she was a strong leader with a vision for her community that she aimed to make reality. She was exactly the kind of person who could stand against Greyback's rhetoric.

She was also careful. She had a select few people that she trusted, and Remus was not one of them. After two weeks in the compound, he had not managed to have a single meaningful conversation with her. She was almost never alone. He’d been making some progress, friendly small talk at the group dinners, participating in the meetings just enough to make it clear that his views aligned with hers. Still, it was evident that this would take time.

This was not like any of the other packs he’d been to. Annabelle had been turned in her early twenties, after she had completed her education at Beauxbatons. She’d moved to Wales after inheriting some land from a relative, which is where her attack took place. That land now served as a sort of commune for lycanthropes. There were rules, structure. People stayed in huts and barracks as opposed to tents and trailers. They grew their own food, helped with chores. With Annabelle’s magical training and the aid of a few other wand carrying lycanthropes (a considerable rarity) they were able to create extensive wards. The land was highly secure, making for very low risk transformations.

It was a comparative utopia after the places he’d been.

He did not feel comfortable there at all.

There wasn’t the same sort of substance abuse that he was so used to in these places, and for that he was grateful. It meant he at least stood a chance at staying clean. Annabelle didn't much seem to care what people did, but she loathed chaos. Speed and opiates had a tendency to breed chaos. They also couldn't be made on site, meaning they necessitated outside involvement. These were things that would not be tolerated in the commune. Any violation of the rules would result in banishment. At least, it would if you were stupid enough to make it a problem for Annabelle. There was plenty of weed and alcohol around, so unfortunately he still had to exert a great deal of self control to keep away from those.

Everything felt out of whack. His usual undercover persona was not useful here. Whilst they did have plenty of people who first arrived in a rough state, hostility and violence were a fast way to get kicked out permanently. If Remus wanted to really fit in, really appeal to Annabelle and gain her as an ally, he was best served by being a little more like himself. Studied, reasonable, friendly. It made it so much harder to keep the separation that he had come to rely on to cope with the pressure of being undercover.

It was also boring. He kind of hated himself for feeling that, but he was so used to spending these missions constantly on edge and that feeling hadn’t gone away. He kept expecting some grand display of violence to disrupt the peace, but it never did, and he felt like he was losing his mind with the monotony.

He needed to get high. He needed a drink.

“What are you being all mopey about?” said a young man with short, bleached blonde hair as he sat down next to Remus by the garden.

“I’m not moping, I’m thinking. You should give it a try sometime, Andy, if you’re capable,” Remus teased.

“None of that for me thanks. Empty head, full heart, hot body, that’s my life philosophy,” said Andy in his relaxed Australian drawl, lying down and propping himself up on one arm to face Remus.