He wakes with a sob, as if from some horrific dream. But he doesn’t recognize himself. These hands are not his hands, this face is not his face, and the panic begins to swell in him. Desperate he grasps at the last shreds of his lost personhood.
The loving feel of maternal arms wrapped in a tight embrace, the shared laughter on the faces of friends closer than brothers, a secret smile and a sigh and the graze of soft, pink lips. Are these memories? The images sear into his skin like the tip of a hot knife, but the pain is so acute he can’t make out the details.
“ I am still human, I am still human,” he breathes into the darkness. And as he lies in the fugue of his own existence, he hears a bitter whisper.
Is this real or is this the dream?
(OOC: A bit nervous to post this since it’s been so long, but I took these pictures of Remus before lockdown and was just too overwhelmed to do much with them at the time.
I based the photos on THIS amazing artwork from @atalienart. I fell in love with it the first time I saw and wanted to replicate it. I didn’t quite pin down the exact pose and emotions, but it is what it is! Feedback is much loved and appreciated!)
