only when the moon is bright | jean

[rhys alexander greyback]

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In the land where the cold winds blow

and the heartless few will never know

November 26, 2025
@jean

Rhys paused as he entered the Inn, it had been a number of years since he’d been back here and last he had he’d been scrawnier and with much less of a beard. His hair would have been longer and his curls more apparent. But one thing stayed the same. His usual piercing blue stare hadn’t changed, the same blue stare anyone who’d come across Fenrir Greyback would have seen. So far the only sibling who also had Fenrir’s eyes was Dahlia, and that had been quite the surprise to find her the previous year and right after losing Elias, not that any of them were replaceable in that way. Rhys held the small piece of parchment in his hand and again looked at the words written in the familiar perfectly neat cursive. Deva’s handwriting, she’d heard some whisperings about possibly another sibling and despite their last falling out she knew how much family meant to him. 'Wolfsired', the letter noted as he folded it back up and placed it back in his pocket. 

He’d meant to visit sooner but events back in London had prevented him from doing so and his one escape out of the country had been for work though he’d been looking for any escape at that point. It was nice to have a sense of purpose again. Another sibling would be more than welcome, but he also prepared for the possibility that it was just a rumor after all, after all how and why Fenrir was all the way on this side of the world was a mystery to him still. The pub here was small and very quiet, the same as he’d remembered it. He stood out, however, and the small size of the Inn reflected how many visitors they might have expected but being a Curse Breaker had its perks as well as a few select Ministry friends. There wasn’t anyone behind the bar when he sat down though as he glanced around hoping someone would turn the corner, he suddenly looked the other direction when he heard something or someone incredibly loud. Now that was certainly a bit irregular for such a quiet place and his curiosity was peaked. "Hello?"

[Deleted]

vouloir, c’est pouvoir.

THE TIN OF RED PAINT FLOATED IN THE SPACE IN front of Jean. He guided it with the tips of his fingers, the precarious art of wandless magic somewhat familiar to him. He had using the quiet of the inn to practise it. They had visitors, but it was rarely busy. The pub low lit and smelling of fresh cut grass and fishy ale. A mop dragged behind Jean reluctantly, the odd screech against the concrete tiled floor creating the soundtrack to his miserable shift. With his back to the bar, Jean backed in to the room, so he did not hear the visitor until it was far too late.

The tin sloshed mid air before landing with a crack on the concrete floor, splashing Jean with half a tin of paint. It was like a murder scene, dripping down his shirt and soaking the apron tied around his waist. It was like some grotesque murder scene. A slew of French curse words sprung from Jean's mouth, his pale face spotted with oily red paint as he turned to face the bar and the man standing before it innocently. "Do you wear a bell?!" He asked in his thick French accent. What he meant to say was that he should wear a bell, but the attempt was passionate nonetheless.

Pulling the apron from his waist, Jean used the inside to wipe the paint from his face. He hadn't been expecting any new visitors, but Jean never did. He hated his job. "What do you want?" He asked, brandishing his hand forcefully, palm facing up. "The bar is not for me." He said roughly, though he still marched towards it intentionally. He meant to say that he was not the bartender and that the bar staff were out for lunch and would not be back for some time. The pace was lazy and self sufficient on Hy-Brasil. None of them ever invited Jean to eat with them. It bothered him immensely. 

rhys alexander greyback

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[rhys alexander greyback]

template by punki of adoxography

In the land where the cold winds blow

and the heartless few will never know

November 26, 2025
@jean

No sooner had Rhys spoken had the noise he had previously heard presented itself. Suddenly a young man, or a boy really appeared but he’d barely gotten a good look at his face before it was mostly covered in red paint. Even if he wasn’t a regular visitor to this island something told me very quickly that this was a bit odd, almost as much as the boy’s accent did. French, he figured. It reminded him of Dahlia’s though his was a bit heavier. Rhys was certain now after he exclaimed something about a bell that he had certainly startled him. ”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He followed up quickly. ’What do you want?’ He asked walked toward Rhys but on the other side of the bar. For once, he wasn’t here to drink as he had work to do—a person to search for but his blue eyes focused on the kid as he approached him.

It was an accent he had heard many times but hardly ever here, what was he doing here? And from the look of the paint, mop and apron he probably worked here. As far as he knew there weren’t very many non-druids on the island, unless he was just not up to date on things. ”I’m not here to drink.” Rhys stated simply, it didn’t seem like small talk was going to be part anything today. He figured he should get to the point and if this guy couldn’t help him then maybe he could point him to somebody that could. The urgency for this was more Rhys’ anxiety, he wanted to know if the rumor was true. If it was true, then he would pursue it but if it wasn’t then he would go home or back to Egypt or somewhere—anywhere, really, and drink half a bottle of whiskey and forget the small pain of having hoped for more family.

Then again, he hated himself for hoping, it only meant that others suffered some kind of tragic life or constant sense of persecution for who their father was. ”Maybe you can help me.” He said, face still serious but he tried to keep a soft expression in his eyes. ”I’m looking for someone.” He paused wondering how to bring this up so that it might expedite this. ”They would be referred to as ’wolfsired’, at least that’s what I was told.”

[Deleted]

vouloir, c’est pouvoir.

WITH A LINGERING LOOK FROM HEAD TO TOE, Jean snorted once at the mainlanders stiff reply. Ignoring his meaningless apology as he crossed the room towards the bar. He'd need a drink, he thought, to deal with tourists this early in the day. Though it was well on its way to lunch time, he was no diligent tour guide. Unless, of course, he was guiding Ava in an very important adventure.

With a bark of laughter, Jean slapped two hands on to the bar and leaned over it with a large grin. "Then... why are you at a bar, eh?" He pulled away with flourish, dripping red paint all over the wooden floors carelessly. He bent over and retrieved a capped bottle of honey mead. Using the edge of the bar to pop off the cap as he cleared a space on the back surface and hopped on it, taking a much needed sip of the sweetened alcohol.

After a moment of consideration, the tourist seemed to have brooded deeply on his next mode of conversation. Jean watched, transfixed. Fascinated by the moody silence as he slurped his mead noisily. "C'est possible..." He mused with a smirk, leaning forward, the bottle dangling on loose fingers between spread knees. And his face did not change as he moved further in to his inquiry. The name flaring in the back of his mind, his sisters moony, frightened eyes. He did not like this conversation, though it did not show on his face. He took another drink. "Why?" He asked with a scoff. "Are they in trouble?" He added teasingly, his hand coming up to cup around his mouth, like they were sharing a secret. 

rhys alexander greyback

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[rhys alexander greyback]

the heartless few

will never know

November 26, 2025
@jean

The red paint seemed to be quickly ignored as this boy walked over to the bar. Rhys watched him with idle curiosity. He wasn’t like any druid that he’d met over the years. But Hy-Brasil was hardly ever in his travel plans, they didn’t typically allow Curse Breakers or anyone that they didn’t want on their shores, but Rhys had used his connections to arrive here for this. The boy also questioned his intention to sit at the bar. Even Rhys wondered why he had automatically decided to sit here rather than just stand or literally sit anywhere else. ”Force of habit.” He admitted, but rather impatiently. When it came down to it, Rhys didn’t want to waste more time on this if the information given to him was just a rumor. He wanted to push through whatever disappointment he had to deal with and get on with his life. The only time a search for a sibling had panned out had been when he found Juliet after a chance visit to St. Mungo’s. Other than that, it had been rumor after rumor.

The boy was still spilling red paint everywhere, and Rhys was tempted to comment, but he also knew it wasn’t going to be his problem when he walked out. Rhys watched his expression, looking for any hint of a change when he mentioned the name he’d been given. There wasn’t anything that stood out to him but instead, curiosity at why Rhys exactly was looking for this person. He paused a moment, wondering how to proceed. The last time Rhys had visited, he had excluded using his last name at all since it would make it evident that he was related to Fenrir and a werewolf. Most people assumed all of Fenrir’s spawn were werewolves despite only being partially true. And what limited knowledge Rhys had of the culture told him he wasn’t entirely welcome here.

”No.” Rhys began, pausing a moment again. If this rumor was, in fact, true. Then he supposed revealing himself as an ally might be the best approach. ”I’m only here to help.” He began, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. ”My name is Rhys...Greyback.”

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[Deleted]

vouloir, c’est pouvoir.

THOUGH JEAN DID NOT FEAR FOR HIS OWN wellbeing, he cared for Ava's. Jean was not naturally afraid of strangers, in fact he'd always found an odd joy in interacting with people he did not know. Be it to con them out of money, or just for the simple entertainment of it. Knowing Ava changed his motivations greatly. Her fear of the unknown seared in to his consciousness. This made Jean's approach far more cautious than was typical for him.

This strange man, with his frowning face and his staring eyes. Jean did not trust him. The ways of Hy-Brasil were bleeding in to him, to look at a foreigner and be suspicious instead of interested. He thought only of Ava as he answered with a painted grin, "Help?" As if the word was somehow unfamiliar to him. "And why would they need your help?" Jean was a very good actor, but he could not stop himself from freezing in place at the name. The word soiled beyond redemption among the remnants of his family.

"Greyback..." Jean's nostrils flared and he gripped the bar top with a savage intensity. The only indication being the tight tensing of the muscles in his arms as they stiffened. "You... relative of Fenrir Greyback?" The delicate lifting of dark, sculpted brows. Jean pushing off of the bar to stand quietly. "Fenrir is not a friend of Druids." Jean's face lifted in a gentle, self-deprecating smile. "They will not accept help from a wolf." 

rhys alexander greyback

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[rhys alexander greyback]

the heartless few

will never know

November 26, 2025
@jean

One might look at Rhys and wonder if a smile ever came across that sullen expression. His eyes were always focused, the intense blue often unnerving. But few things did make him smile or even relax. His family was one of those things. The blood relatives he had discovered when he was seventeen among the little family he had created for himself with close friends. For all of them—Rhys would do just about anything they asked. So, when opportunities such as this presented themselves, Rhys took them seriously, though he never thought he would find potential siblings and family on Hy-Brasil of all places. The chances that more of Fenrir’s children were werewolves were very high, though not absolute, and it was known how the Druids felt about such people.

The boy in front of him look suspicious, but that didn’t discourage Rhys. That was fully expected. Rhys didn’t answer his question right away, instead of focusing on divulging who he was for context. There was a slight reaction to that, and Rhys noticed because he always noticed people’s reactions to Greyback. Still, that wasn’t a surprise either—the name was infamous at this point. ”Fenrir isn’t anyone’s friend and certainly not mine.” Rhys responded quickly, even a bit sharply, to get his point across. While he was biologically his father, he considered him nothing more. This boy was doing his best to push Rhys away, discourage him from pursuing this, but Rhys didn’t have his answer yet. ”The Druids would hardly help a wolf either, right?” While Rhys wasn’t hardly versed in Druid culture, he knew enough. It had been explained to him as a summary during his training, and that solidified that he’d never come here for any reason whatsoever. Not that he’d mind, but this was different.

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[Deleted]

vouloir, c’est pouvoir.

THOUGH HE TRIED TO REMAIN UNMOVED BY THE gruff man's queries, it was hard not to be. Jean had battled his way on to Hy-Brasil, and even then his acceptance was conditional. Even though his mother had been a Druid, she had left. And Jean had not been raised in the same traditional fashion. He was an outsider. But, time and experience had taught him a Druid's caution. He let go of the bar with a long hum.

"Not a friend," He agreed with a slight smirk, walking around the bar to join him on the other side. His eyes swept the length of him, right from his creased brow to his wide footed stance - like a fighter, Jean thought. "But, something..." He lifted his brows, the smirk growing to a grin. Jean liked to think he knew how to read people, it made for great cunning. And the bitter tone of voice, the almost flinch of correction. He pointed his rag at the outsider, shook it a little for added effect.

"Did he bite you?" Jean asked with one brow lifted, his tongue dancing out over his bottom lip as he attempted to scan for a visible, silvered scar. "Are you here for revenge?" Jean wandered between tables, pretended to wipe down table tops and upturn chairs. Eventually, he came back to the bar and hoisted himself on to it, just to the man's left. Jean knew all too well how closeted the Druid's were. How unhelpful they could be. He related, but he held no sympathy. "You sound..." He squinted as he tried to think of the word. "Amer." Jean settled on, slapping the rag over his shoulder and turning his face to look at him as if he were a great curiosity. "Bitter." He added as an afterthought, as the English translation eventually occurred to him, almost gleeful in his realisation.

rhys alexander greyback

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[rhys alexander greyback]

the heartless few

will never know

November 26, 2025
@jean

Fenrir Greyback was not an individual that was likely to be accepted anywhere. Even within a group such as the Purifiers, Rhys figured. So it was no surprise when the strange man agreed with him. Rhys looked at him curiously. He was young—might as well have been just a boy with that mop of curly hair atop his head. Rhys’ eyes never left him as Rhys was inspected, which he didn’t care for. Rhys was not the patient type, and he just wanted his answer so he could decide his next steps.

But, he paused. Clenching his jaw as he crossed his arms—not immediately answering the question. ”Yes.” Rhys’ answer was simple and short though he didn’t immediately confirm or deny revenge. It had been a topic that Rhys had thought about from time to time. What would he do if he ever came face to face with Fenrir Greyback? Would he fight him? Try to get answers from him? Maybe try to kill him to rid the world of his monstrous presence? Rhys didn’t know, but the anger associated with him just simply never left.

The strange druid hopped around more, and Rhys let out a small sigh of frustration. He was wasting his time. But soon, he was back, sitting on the bar to his side. His arms were still crossed defensively, and Rhys figured he might as well get to the point so he could either be asked to leave or otherwise. ”Wouldn’t you be bitter if your father turned you into a werewolf as a child?” Rhys spoke sharply. Bitter wasn’t even the word as he looked away for a moment before taking a few steps forward to pace. Rhys looked at the man as she sat on the bar, blue eyes gleaming with resentment at the memories. ”I know I’m not welcome here. But I was told I might have a sibling here.” The druid could very well just kick him out and if that were the case, Rhys’ search would be dead in the water.

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[Deleted]

vouloir, c’est pouvoir.

IT WAS A CONFIRMATION THAT JEAN DID AND didn't want. Oh, he loved to be right, but news that a werewolf was sullying the shores of Hy-Brasil would surely cast a shadow over the more fanatic of Druids - his grandparents included. Jean could only imagine how they would take the news, how they might accuse him of inviting the wolf for his own twisted amusement. It did not outwardly faze him, though. Jean simply nodded empathetically, just another pup relative recruited by his infamous biological father.

Shifting in his spot on top of the bar, his eyes wandered over the rippled tension in Rhys' crossed arms. There had been something coiled about him before, but the more Jean inquired the worse it seemed to become. As if he were being interrogated. Jean didn't think he was quite so brash, merely humorously curious and a little concerned. His beloved sister was housed on the island. If Fenrir's pack were sniffing around, he could only assume they would come for her before they came for Jean. He was, after all, more of a spare part than a true player. And Ava was so soft-hearted, he thought she might simply drop dead if such a fate was bestowed upon her. Which meant only one thing - he had to protect her.

"Fenrir is your father?!" The words broke from Jean's mouth in a shocked splutter, leaning forward in place as he stared wide eyed at Rhys. He was no longer curious, but stunned into momentary silence. Jean had assumed that if Rhys was bitten and a Greyback, he was a bitter relative looking for revenge. He did not immediately think he had been fathered by the wolf, just as Jean had been - just like Ava. But the certainty was true and honest, searing in his stare as Jean leaned back with a pounding heart. Jean had been happy to find Ava, overjoyed that if he had no mother, at least he had a sister. He had never considered he might have a brother, too.

His wide eyes roamed across Rhys's chiselled features, wondering if there was a resemblance he had missed. Certainly not, he thought, Jean had a much prettier face. And then, once he had settled himself, he felt sorry. His mouth flattening as he regarded Rhys's rippling tension with a renewed understanding. It wasn't that he felt interrogated, Jean thought. It was perhaps because the truth was a burden all on its own.

"It's me." Jean said suddenly, making up his mind all at once. "You are looking for a sibling." He dropped from the bar top and held out his hands in an open, easy shrug. "It's me." Whether he had good intentions or not, Jean was about to find out. And then he grinned, because he could, and he wrapped his arms around Rhys without further hesitation or invitation. "You are a bitter brother to have, what a pity." And he patted him hard on his broad back, chin resting on the man's stiff shoulder. 

rhys alexander greyback

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[rhys alexander greyback]

the heartless few

will never know

November 26, 2025
@jean

Rhys was growing impatient. He had a simple question that should have required a simple answer, and yet this druid was keen to play games with him. Was it because they knew he was a werewolf, and this was their way of getting him to leave? Others had been far less subtle in that regard, so what was this one’s endgame? Finding family was always stressful but not something that Rhys would ever stop doing. He always wondered if he had a brother or sister who thought they were all alone as he had felt, it wasn’t something he wished on anyone.

But Rhys’ sharp answer seemed to surprise him, and the elegant way that this druid had been careful with his words and answers was all gone. It took Rhys by surprise, but his eyes didn’t leave him. So far, he wasn’t sure what to think of the strange and funny overgrown boy who was now staring at him as if he were a ghost. ”Unfortunately.” Was all Rhys responded. He didn’t care to talk about that familial relation now that he had others. Was the silence a cue for him to leave? Rhys was a werewolf and not welcome on these shores but let alone a relation of a very infamous werewolf.

But then he finally spoke, and Rhys’ brow furrowed as he looked at him again. Blue eyes inspected the druid up and down as the two did not look alike in the slightest. Then again, none of them really did aside from a select few features such as dark hair. Rhys had his mother’s curly hair but his father’s blue eyes just as Dahlia did. ”You?” It wasn’t like Rhys to doubt—but there was something about this one that made him doubt a little bit. ”I—ok.” Rhys stood there and accepted the hug for a mere second before getting out of it. ”It's hard not to be considering everything.” This newfound brother of his didn’t seem to be a werewolf, or he wouldn’t be here of all places. ”So. How did you end up here?...” Rhys asked but also realized he didn’t know his name. ”Druids don’t exactly mingle with werewolves.”

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