video; seelie.

[brainiest]

 I know I've made an entry like this before, but I thought it might be apt to make a new one considering how official things have become lately.

[ Hermione looks at the camera, initially nervous but gathering in her own determination, expression tightening before she continues to speak, careful and measured and making sure she doesn't rush her words. Anyone that hasn't seen her since June will have heard the rumours of her duel and will see the mark of it on her face - a scar, healed now, covering the left side of her from her brow down across her cheek. ]

My name is Hermione Granger and my friend Dorian Gray and I run a business called Artefacta. Together, we make and produce potions, runes and protective enchantments for you to use for whatever you happen to be doing while you're here in the Drabwurld. We can also create and enchant items for communication, generally compasses, should you need that for anything - or if the lockets stop working as they did this past year.

[ She nods her head, turning the camera to show off the cloaks, compasses and set of vials that litter the desk she's sitting behind. ]

If you need something please feel free to contact us privately or visit me at the White Citadel. Tell the guards outside my door you're here on business and I'll make sure they let you in.

[ Unfortunately, since January, Hermione has had her rooms on lockdown, just to be safe. Only a few people are allowed in without permission and, generally, people looking to buy things are not on that list.

But - she continues. ]

I've also been learning to duel and swordfight over the last year and I was hoping to find someone who wouldn't mind sparring or practising with me. Nothing professional or intense, I'm hardly that good, but a little something to make sure I don't go out of shape would be nice. Let me know? And... Thank you. In advance.

Comments

[babbylon]

Oh? Is that a promise?

[Three... two... one...]

I rather like having a woman on top of me, if we're discussing positioning.

[...he's certainly smiling, alright. For all the wrong reasons.]

[brainiest]

I wouldn't say it if it wasn't.

[ But -- then...

She covers her face, trying to hide her blush; her voice is a mumble behind her palms now. ]

That's not what I meant.

[babbylon]

[Spoilers: he saw it anyway. Seer of the beginning, the middle, and the end of your dignity, remember?]

If I asked to treat you as a queen in my chambers, would you still come? Or do I overstep myself, fair Marchioness?

[brainiest]

[ Still pink, Hermione crosses her arms and coughs. ]

I suppose I might imitate Queen Elizabeth. She had no husband and, therefore, slept alone.

[ And maybe her lips twitch a little, betraying the fact that she's really just messing with him -- because she believes, even now, he is messing with her. ]

[babbylon]

[Gentle as gentle could be:]

An empty bed does not mean an empty heart. Unless you would equate the kingless with the loveless, dearest Hermione.

[brainiest]

[ ... Oh. ]

No. I wouldn't ever.

[ Internally? She thinks she loves so hard it might be the thing that kills her, considering who her friends are. ]

[babbylon]

Then you are so loved.

[Simple as that.]

[brainiest]

By my friends? Of course.

[ Skirting the issue a little, perhaps. ]

[babbylon]

[She sure is. Gilgamesh decides to let the matter go; he's in a good enough mood not to press her to the point of overt frustration.]

Affairs in Leathann keep me preoccupied, regrettably, so I shall open the gates here whenever you see fit to arrive.

[And... glancing down... trying not to sigh.]

I might ask a favor. An important one.

[brainiest]

[ That catches her attention, and all the teasing and joking about love - and her relief that he isn't pushing the subject and making her admit something she'd rather not - slips away. ]

Of course.

[ She leans forward, holding her locket a little closer. ]

What do you need?

private;

[babbylon]

[Only after he's embarrassed Hermione sufficiently in front of everyone else does he bother flicking a privacy filter on.]

Dorian has... drifted, as of late. Do keep an eye on him should you come. I believe him in better spirits now, but he runs the risk of slipping and falling all over again if left to his own ends for too long.

[And honestly, he can't really think of anyone else he'd trust with that boy's well-being. Funny how they've come to rely on each other when months ago they were fighting like cats and dogs. This Drabwurld had a strange way of pulling people together.]

Think of it this way. If he throws himself off a cliff, I'm the first one to feel the rock at the bottom jutting through his skull. It's unpleasant.

private;

[brainiest]

I saw the, um. Event he organised, before. I think I might have had something to do with it - his sadness, I mean, not the orgy. I found out what happened to a friend of his and I'm not sure he took the information particularly well.

[ She closes her eyes before she glances down at her hands. It takes her a few moments, but then? She smiles softly. She's glad to see that Dorian and Gilgamesh still care about each other, that he's making sure that her best friend is taken care of.

She remembers there kiss and she shakes her head - very sweet. ]

I'll always look after him, I promise you that. I don't want him to get hurt and I certainly don't want him to suffer... Nor do I want you hurt either. I love Dorian, Gilgamesh, he's my best friend.

[ She manages a firm smile. ]

I'll keep an eye on him, you have my word.

[babbylon]

I fixed it. It's fine.

[Gilgamesh brushes past the issue, still a little raw and still a little unpleasant to recall. It took an enormous amount of prana, far beyond what he'd been expecting, to fight him down... and even with the portrait's assistance, it exhausted him.

So it's some blend of selfishness and selflessness that has him asking after Dorian. Hermione gives her word and he knows she'll keep it, won't break it for anything. He nods in turn, grateful in his subtle sort of way, and says nothing else on the matter.]

You are welcome in his arms as well as my own. [A more earnest compliment than all the rest so far.] Peace onto you and yours, Marchioness, and success in all your endeavors. Sworn upon the grace and glory of my crown, I await your company with utmost eagerness.

[brainiest]

Good. I was worried.

[ She breathes out, slow, her shoulders slumping with it. She knows there are some things that she can't do for Dorian - indulging in his desire for sex is only one of them - and it breaks her heart a little bit to think that he's hurting, that there's nothing she can do other than be there and hold his hand and offer him laughter and sweetness when the darkness is literally creeping closer at every single moment.

But Gilgamesh continues, almost gives permission, and for a moment she wonders how much Dorian's Servant knows about what she and her friend do when they're alone in Haven, when she's sad and needs to be reminded that she's alive and real and that he's as safe as she is. Her throat goes a little tight and she ignores the feeling, brushes it away, and focusses on the promises Gilgamesh is offering her. ]

Before you go?

[ And this is quiet, gentle, as if she's more than just embarrassed to admit it. ]

At Christmas you... You just held me. Would that be... [ She shakes her head. ] If that's something I wanted?

[ Hermione feels distant, untethered, and sometimes even the strongest of people wanted to be reminded of their connections. She had long since forgiven Gilgamesh for how he had hurt her; now she sees him for what he could be. A good, dear friend. ]

[babbylon]

[She's such a fretful creature at times. All human beings were, but Hermione more than most. He supposed that's what happened when you were born with too much sympathy, with too big a heart that cared for others more than anything. He cannot empathize with it, cannot truly understand, but he has learned to respect it. Hermione has forced him to. There's no going back from that now.

There's no going back from those promises, either. He is a liar and a charlatan and a thief and much worse, but for Hermione, he's none of those things. She's forced honesty out of him, too, so when she asks, he answers without hesitation.]

You are my Queen. I will do it if you desire it.

[The Queen he pursues in place of the King that's left him behind. The handsome face before the compass bows.]

I will lie with you, and it will not be untoward; I will lie with you for as long as you wish it of me, without my crown, with only love to give.

[He is not her King and he is not her friend, but he is taken with her all the same. It likely doesn't matter anymore what labels they use with each other. Only that they are with each other. Only that there's something to stave off the loneliness when nothing else will suffice.]

[brainiest]

I still haven't said yes, if you remember.

[ But her hand brushes over the ring she wears around her neck, as much of a claim as anything else she has, dogtags and potion vials and compasses all tangled up with the mix of soft ribbon and metal that keeps it in place. She had started wearing it because Dorian told her it would make sense, that it would be protection for her, but lately it's become more than that - a comfort blanket of sorts, something to hold on to when nervous fumbling threatens to overtake her even as she shoves it away.

At least she didn't say 'yet'. Hasn't said yes yet. She already feels ridiculous, frankly, asking for something as simple as a hug or a cuddle from someone she had admitted to being a king, but it makes her feel better to think that he might be there for her if she needed him, the way he had been when she had found out about Katsa, the way he had been after she had tasted human flesh. It burns inside of her and she pushes it all away - Gilgamesh, the man who had thought that she would poison him, now one of her most eager comforters.

It's enough to make her laugh and reminds her, foolishly, of how this place has twisted her up and spat her out and made her stronger for it.

But something makes her pause, makes her drop her hand away, deliberate. ]

Don't... [ Don't say 'love' when you don't love me. It almost slips out. But she shakes her head and makes a smile appear, tilting her eyes to look at the image again. ] I mean - don't worry. I'll come and visit soon and collect on that promise, alright? Sometimes you just need a good hug to feel better about things.

[ Ah, yes. What a save, Hermione Granger. ]

[babbylon]

You are a Queen with or without me.

[The love of a King took many forms. And, freely and willingly, Gilgamesh extended love for his subjects, though even then Hermione didn't quite qualify. He wasn't sure what to call her anymore, beyond Queen and Marchioness and all those pet names and titles that some selfish part of him still saw forever beneath his own; he wasn't sure how to argue with I still haven't said yes, so he doesn't.

He only speaks softly, and it's good no one else hears him now. It's good no one else learns what's become of the once proud Gilgamesh who bows to titles far beneath his own for the sake of promises he once thought silly to make.]

I will always call you so. I will always look upon you with this fondness. I will always hang upon that wall and remember.

[I hate you. I hate this world. I hate everything. Gilgamesh shuts the voice out, brushes fingers over his chest where the ring rests upon her own. Part of him feels stuck in that day, and some glee yet lingers in that promise of maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe, he'd do better this time and live up to the name and the title of Hero.]

I shall tend the room of flowers until then. For my [a brief pause] Hermione.

[brainiest]

Thank you.

[ Her expression softens when she watches him, a tight feeling in her chest. It's been a long year, drawn out and painful, and she wonders, for a moment, if she is ever going to say no and give him the ring back; if she will ever hide it away like she had done when she realised what it meant. Once, this ring was a symbol of his desperation and her broken heart, but now? Now it's more like a symbol of their friendship, what she might have.

If she thought, for a moment, that Gilgamesh might love her, that he might really care about her beyond the realms of friendship and power, would she say yes? A part of her already knows the answer; she would wear the ring on her hand with pride and remember how she felt when he first offered it. He had told her that she might have been his Master once and she thinks that, had that been the case, there would be no mistaking any of his feelings or intentions towards her... But it isn't, and a part of her is glad.

Not knowing makes it easier; it makes her determination to grow stronger and prove herself in front of him and Dorian and the court all the more powerful inside of her. She can't rely on what she thinks people around her feel anymore. She has to rely on what she is told and what she knows - and he will always call her Queen, his or not. The fondness, the affection, the burst of warmth she feels for him is hidden behind a softer smile, something she can pretend is nothing more than her own grateful pride when he says her name.

(His Hermione, though. Her nose wrinkles and she prickles a little at the idea of such ownership, not wanting to break the moment by speaking her mind.) ]

You will. You even hang from my neck now - you're impossible to forget, Gilgamesh.

[ His hand moves and hers mirrors it before she snaps her thoughts away, pushes the moment out of reach and stands, clearing her throat. There is no love here - just friendship and a twist of attraction she can't deny, but there are more important things to focus on than the strange relationship she shares with her best friend's Servant. ]

You know where I am if you need me, and I'll watch out for Dorian. If I do find the time... I'll send you a quick message before I come over, okay? I'll need to see a picture of where to go if I'm going to apparate. I want to see the flowers, okay? One day soon.