eachdraidh | ( video ; seelie + unseelie )

Entry tags:

( video ; seelie + unseelie )

(ooc: link to a video representation here! tw for torture/blood)

THE DREAM;

[ It starts of as nothing more than blackness and screaming, the sounds flickering desperately and the panicked breathing soon taking over. When Hermione remembers this moment it's the pain that surfaces first, then the panic, then the horror of her memories, but it takes so, so long for the memories to crawl out and be more than just echoed sounds.

Then there are visions, flashes of a face bearing into her own, whispering to her and a wand moving in front of her eyes, the sound of a curse echoing around her body as she screams with the pain, twitching. Her vision swims, now, from the agony, even as she lies through her teeth - and she is lying, desperately, not expecting to be believed but relishing the fact that even now, when she's on her back on a cold floor with a witch trying to Crucio her to death, she can protect her best friends.

It doesn't take long for the other woman to come back and take over Hermione's light of sight completely, leaning close and shouting in her face even as she tries to bite back desperate sobs. It's almost impossible, not with the ravaging pain that's taking over her, and it's not until the woman moves to the side and jerks forward, body twitching as she does something out of Hermione's vision but she still screams, body lurching and everything twisting as she tries to get away.

Everything is burning pain and agony and there's nothing she can do but breathe and try to keep going, despite her tears, desperate sobs that overtake the entire nightmare. The one word that echoes, over and over, is Mudblood; mudblood, mudblood, each hiss like a stab to her heart and another cut to her body.

Eventually, finally, the screaming is over, her voice is hoarse, and she's left just... Staring. Her gaze is a little fuzzy and distant, a little lost, and her hands twitch a little, her body readjusting to it's pain threshold being pushed too far, too fast, pulling all her energy out of her and leaving her worse for it. Eventually there are more whispered shouts behind her and a hand lifts, grabbing her, a knife pressed to her throat and her best friends in front of her, their lives on the line again and she'd failed --

and then she wakes up. ]

ADDED ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, text;

I don't suppose there's any way to get rid of this, is there? I'm sorry for anyone who had to see that. I'm truly sorry.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The tenderness is a little surprising, really, but she moves into it and lets herself be held. Her arms slip around his body and she rests against him, trying to bite back her sobs even as he lets her have them, reminds her of the fact that she's allowed a moment of weakness. She does break, then, sniffling against his chest and trying to make herself seem smaller than she is, as if that would protect her. ]

Thank you, Legolas. I - thank you, I didn't...

[ Words have never been so difficult for her and she swallows the cotton in her throat, trying to sort herself out as best she could before she looked up, agonised, leaning into him still. She licks her lips before she finally breathes out, trying to keep herself steady even with her agony present and plain on her face, like the sun in a bright, cloudless sky. ]

I - I think I need to lie down.

[ The more Hermione trembles with her broken sobs, the more she shrinks against him, the tighter he holds her, offering whatever comfort he can with his presence and protection. ]

Of course.

[ He nods an agreement, and with gentle hands leads her to the bed, supporting all the while, every step of the way. He'll not make her speak, if she doesn't want to, yet there is still something that he may be able to offer her in the end. As a means of comfort and taking her mind off what has happened. That her suffering has been shown to all, betrayed be the locket. Things that should have been shared only when the right time came from the person who suffered. ]

Would you like me to sing for you? There is no magic in my songs, but they may help soothe your troubled mind.

[ She lets herself be guided without hesitation, settling down against her bed and breathing slowly; admittedly, she feels a little foolish, being so overtaken by her emotions, but the tenderness that Legolas is offering her makes her feel a little safer, more comfortable. Hermione doesn't feel ashamed of the fact that she is suffering; instead she feels vindicated, like she's allowed to revel in her pain until it's numbed and forced to the back of her mind once more. ]

You can sing? Legolas, I - I had no idea.

[ Reaching out, she takes his hand and squeezes it gently, trying to force as big a smile as she can possible manage. ]

I'd really like that.

I should think all elves can, though some may be inclined to it more than others.

[ He offers a smile, with a light chuckle at the question, lightening his voice just a notch, so as to lift her spirits up as well. A light squeeze to Hermione's hand in turn and Legolas takes a seat on the edge of the bed as well. It doesn't matter a whole lot whether he sits or stands or even lies down when he's singing.

He takes a moment to brush his hair out of his face, but the too short strands fall in place nearly immediately. A moment of thought, to pick a fitting song and he begins. It's in elvish, of course, the Sindarin that he spoke all of his life until sailing to Aman where out of necessity he had to learn Quenya as well. His voice is light, fair and beautiful in the way of the Sindar, and he sings with great pleasure and sheer joy, both almost palpable in the air.

There is no power in this music, yet it should matter little. ]

Does your father sing? I can't imagine him spending a lot of time doing it, but I don't really know him too well yet.

[ Hermione lifts her head, watching him as her expression softens. His voice is lovely, the language foreign to her but overtaking her senses all the same, making her heart feel warm in her chest. She had never really thought that Legolas would have such a beautiful voice but, she thinks, it suits him; it goes with his beautiful face and his kindness, a soothing balm and a sweetness she should have known.

He's sitting and she can't resist; she shifts closer, just so her head can rest against his leg, her eyes slipping closed as she revels in the comfort of something as simple as a song. No one's ever sung for her before - she'd been to concerts, at school, during the Yule Ball, but she'd never had anything just like this. It was incredible. ]

[ The corners of his mouth curve sharply upward at the question, though he does not reply until the song is done. A short, uplifting tune and when she settles her head in his lap, lightly he begins stroking her wild hair with something akin to reverence. A mess of curls so vividly copper, a most fascinating thing, and most beautiful for an elf.

The song ends and he cocks his head. ]

Oh but he does, he sings me to sleep at times, even now. [ No matter how perhaps embarrassing this admission should or would be to most. Legolas feels no shame. ] Or when I ask he sing for me.

[ If Thranduil sang for anyone else? Legolas is not aware. ]

Really?

[ She leans into the touch, letting herself relax. Legolas isn't embarrassed for her; he wants only to take care of her, to look after her, and she appreciates that more than she could ever really say. What she had told Nico was true - he really was like the older brother she'd never had, the kind she had found with the Weasley family once upon a time. He's so tender and sweet and she feels blessed that he cares enough to take care of her.

She's smiling, now, instead of feeling the panicked weight of her nightmare, ignoring the plinging noise of the locket still resting around her neck, bumping against her compass. She lifts her head, raising her eyebrows a little. ]

That's really sweet. He sounds like the most incredible father.

[ Perhaps those are not matters to share, but if they help soothe, he finds them free to share with Hermione. Without any shame whatsoever, light and bright as the memories with his father tend to be. ]

Mm, in the past he would make up stories and songs on the spot to entertain me, pretending to read them from a thick book or other that was, in truth, work. 'tis something I have not realised until I grew older and wiser to his tricks.

[ The great Thranduil the Elvenking is deep down quite the mischievous elf, as it turns out to be. He gives Hermione a small wink, sharing a secret that should stay just between the two of them. ]

I love him dearly. [ And then quieter, thick fringe of eyelashes lowering over his eyes. ] He is all that I have.

[ Hermione is cherishing them all the same; it's not as though she would ever tell anyone about anything Legolas has told her, at least without permission. She knows as well as anyone that secrets and information can mean life or death. ]

My dad used to do that too - he'd read me stories about witches and little girls that could control things with their minds. I never really believed them until I got my letter and was told I was a witch.

[ She grins, though, at the wink, leaning closer, head almost on his lap now. ]

He's not all you have anymore, you know. You have us - me and John and everyone else. We can be your family too.

[ The lack of reaction to the word witch is exactly all the reaction. It bothers him none at all, having been close friends with a wizard, even if Hermione is something else entirely from Gandalf. A human with abilities beyond those of others, yet with such kindness in her heart he cannot ever worry. ]

He too sounds like an amazing dad. Showing care in stories told, shaped and crafted for the child, I find that it speaks of great love.

I recall one right now, of a great dragon of a name of Laegolass with the scales of emerald stones laying waste upon woodlands he had once called home as no more but a worm.

[ Yes, his dad once made up a story about him being a great dragon causing ruckus in Mirkwood, like he was wont to no matter the age. Legolas laughs at the memory. ]

I recall too that I was most offended that he likened me to a dragon.

[ He threads his fingers through a handful of strands of hair, smoothing them out just enough to braid into a tiny little weave that, when she stands straight, will smoothly fall on the side of her face. Though at her words his fingers pause in the ministrations, stopping mid-weave and he blinks slowly, surprised yet so very touched and the smile that appears reflects that. ]

If you will have me, thank you. You are both of you dear friends to me, to have you as family even not bound by blood would be an honour.

[ Oh, she does laugh at his stories, though. She can imagine a young Legolas, settling to be tucked into bed (though she gets the feeling he was a bit of a handful if anything) and demanding stories, only to be frustrated and put off before he gets into it for the name of a dragon. It's so charming that she can't help but bite back her grin, chewing on her lip and offering him a softer expression, just leaning into the touch of his hands. ]

He was a good father. I - I mean, he is. He's a wonderful dad, he really is.

[ She isn't going to go into the details of the fact that she wiped her parents' memories, not right now. Everything is still too sore and hurting for that kind of pain. ]

I think you could be dragonlike, at least the dragons in my world. They're strong, brave creatures, caring for their families and gentle, for the most part, unless their family is threatened.

[ She reaches up to touch her hair before she flushes, shaking her head and feeling herself go a little pink. He's playing with her hair and it's one of the most utterly charming things she's ever felt. When he replies to her offer of 'family' she feels her cheeks go pink, her eyes widening as she glances up with a soft expression. ]

Of course I'd have you. I've never had brothers and sisters before, at least not more than the ones I'd chosen for myself. I think having you as a kind of brother would be wonderful, Legolas.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( video ; seelie + unseelie )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject