faderift | OPEN: And you can shake the mountains with a whisper

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OPEN: And you can shake the mountains with a whisper

WHO: Hermione Granger and YOU!
WHAT: Hermione ventures out of the library. Sometimes. But she's also in the library most of the time, because she's Hermione.
WHEN: Late Justinian, creeping into early Solace if need be.
WHERE: Throughout Skyhold, just outside of Skyhold, pick a place far away from Skyhold and find a reason to drag her there.
NOTES: If you'd like a particular starter and/or would like to hash out some minor assumed CR that can lead into this, feel free to let me know either via PM or plurk (

StarryOblivion). Otherwise, feel free to have them randomly bump into one another!

The Herald's Rest.

Hermione doesn't often come in here, not since receiving an odd look when she'd first asked for just some water (really, given how young everyone here seems to think she is, she'd been surprised that the surly bartender had thought she'd wanted something harder). But sometimes it's a nice change of pace, sitting among the mostly quiet chattering of the other patrons and enjoying the fire as she reads or looks over her notes. Presuming, of course, that no one is foolish enough to have too much to drink and try to bother her. Talking is a distraction she'll accept with no fuss, but Merlin help anyone who's had enough alcohol to think she's open to anything friendlier than that.

Stables.

When she'd first arrived at Skyhold, the stables had seemed relatively empty and were a fine place for practicing her magic without risking hurting anyone. She'd thought she could do the same now, only to find that there are considerably more horses - and, er, other creatures - residing there. Magic might only frighten them, she decides, but they're so pretty that she can't help visiting with them for a bit, getting as close to them as she dares. It's been years since she's ridden a horse, but she's entirely certain that these mounts aren't exactly the type that would trot gently along a given course for an inexperienced rider, so she isn't even going to ask after something so silly, even if the interest is clearly there in her eyes.

Courtyard, not too far from the healing tents.

When the stables prove not to be the best place to practice with her magic, Hermione decides that it might be best to find a little corner close to the healing tents instead. At least then there would be other mages around, and so it was less likely that anyone who stumbled across her would look at her disdainfully. And if anyone gets hurt, a healer wouldn't be too far away. Of course, she highly doubts that anyone would get hurt just because she was unsuccessfully attempting to transfigure leaves and pebbles and whatever else happens to be in the vicinity. Transfiguration doesn't seem to be an aspect of her magic that's carried over into Thedas, or at least Hermione can't manage it without more practice, given that she's growing more and more frustrated as she continuously taps rocks and other objects with what looks like a stick, muttering to herself in exasperation.

Library. Because of course.

If you've been to the library, you've seen her. Whether you know her and enjoy talking to her about rifter politics or think it's entertaining to scandalize her or have never bothered to approach her, Hermione can more often than not be found in the same little niche in the library, nose in a book or a quill hastily scribbling down notes. Or even, occasionally, dozing off, since she hasn't exactly claimed any sort of sleeping space for her own and more often than not loses track of the time when she doesn't explicitly have somewhere to be.

Wildcard!

Hermione wanders, and while she tries to be careful, sometimes it takes her places she just shouldn't go. If it doesn't look like a private room or setting, it's safe to assume that the young witch has made her way there, likely looking for a quiet place to read or do magic or just to get a few moments of silence. And while she doesn't often journey outside of Skyhold, she can definitely be tempted beyond its walls if she has the right incentive, or the right company.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Giant and spirits I knew about," Ariadne said. "But dwarves are a bit new to me. I've only met one. He seemed friendly, though."

And sympathetic to Rifters, which was important.

She shrugged. "I just wonder if it means anything. That two worlds could be so vastly different, and yet have such odd and unexpected similarities."

Ariadne wasn't religious. Not at all, really. She liked the idea of the Elf Goddess, because they gave hope to the world. But now she found herself thinking about the Divine. At the idea that all worlds could be connected. And that gods and goddesses were just avatars, saints, and angels of some greater power.

It was a bit much to consider. Too big for probabilities.

But it was interesting.

"I haven't met any dwarves here yet. I've seen a few people from afar that I'm assuming might have been dwarves, but I'd prefer not to assume any such thing, especially since the one person I'd taken for a dwarf was actually something else entirely." Though in her defense, the hairy feet and pointed ears are the only way to tell a hobbit from a dwarf.

"All it means is that certain species have found favorable conditions in more than one universe," Hermione replied, ever logical about this sort of thing. "And that certain vague characteristics and broad terms have carried over between worlds and languages, hence why elves look very different here than they do in my world." Shrugging, she remarked, "Any other explanation could be chalked up to coincidence as much as anything else, at least until a sound theory that connects it all can be worked out."

It was a dry argument, but that didn't mean it was wrong.

What a curious girl Hermione was. Ariadne couldn't quite figure her out, but that didn't make her any less appealing. She was friendly and thoughtful and a Rifter to boot.

More than enough.

"What do they look like? In your world? Elves, I mean. Because they look the same as here in mine."

In Hermione's mind, it was no argument. Oh, she wouldn't step on anyone's toes if they chose to think of it all as having some sort of divine rhyme or reason, though she might be hard-pressed to hide her skepticism. But until a theory other than it's fate or some other ethereal nonsense could be presented, Hermione is going to chalk it up to nothing more than coincidence and/or evolution, depending on one's take on the subject.

"Elves seem to look the same everywhere other than where I'm from," Hermione mentioned, frowning just a little at that. "It makes me wonder just what was done to them in the past to have made them evolve so differently." She knew precisely what had been done, but she hadn't wanted to imagine that things had been that bad.

"They're smaller, generally only coming up to about the vicinity of my waist. They have the pointed ears, but they're much, much larger, as are their noses and eyes. Many wizards use them as little more than slaves - if they're lucky - and so most of them are painfully underfed and perpetually frightened, with subservience written into their very natures. It's quite sad, but given their contributions to the Second Wizarding World, I'm hopeful that they'll be granted more and more rights as the years go on and will soon be looked at as equal to wizards, especially given that their magic is so much stronger than most of ours."

No matter how much her way of thinking differed from Hermione, if there was one sure way to get Ariadne's sympathy, it was with the word 'slaves.' Alastrians weren't always enslaved, necessarily. But they were certainly treated no better, even if they happened to be free. The only escape was to disguise oneself as a Human, something only a quarter or less of her people could do.

Ariadne had been one of the lucky ones.

She scowled deeply. "Apparently your world and this one have that much in common. I've been told that many of the Elves who live in cities here are rounded up into ghettos with almost nothing to eat and very little freedom. I don't know how the natives can just stand by and let it happen. It's so...wrong."

"Mostly it's to do with their history and culture," Hermione replied. "From what I'd been able to find, believing in their gods means that the elves have turned away from the Maker, which most Andrastians - which is what the majority of this world is - believe to be a cardinal sin. Many people are under the impression that they're now paying for that sin by living the way they are, and so the poor treatment is justified."

She hesitated, then, not sure if she wanted to turn this into such a serious conversation when she'd tried veering away from potentially touchy subjects, but it bore mentioning. "It isn't much different in my world. Not with elves, no; there's no official religious position on elves, insofar as I've been able to tell. But the major religions of the world seem to have a scapegoat for why the world is the way it is; it could be members of a smaller religious sect or it could even be women as a whole, depending on how you interpret the texts. As such, there have always been people that have been marginalized for the sake of 'the greater good'."

Ugh. The greater good. How a term that had once seemed so noble could be twisted as much as it had was beyond her.

Oddly enough, it was because so many religions insisted on scapegoats, on darkness, that Ariadne had begun to study the Elf religion from Valeria. It offered hope, where no other faiths seemed to.

Because as far as marginalization went, who knew about that better than an Alastrian?

Still, she wrinkled her nose a little bit. "Women as a whole?" she repeated incredulously. That was a new idea. And one that made no sense, given how many more goddesses there were than gods, in her life. "Well, that seems ridiculous. You can't blame one half of a population for everything."

"You can blame anyone for anything, if you have enough supporters for it," Hermione replied, clearly not relishing the thought in the least. "It's a constant that seems to have survived in this world, my own, and most others that I've heard of."

Shaking her head, Hermione tried to push past the uprising of negative feelings, focusing on the horse in front of her. Reaching out, she slowly stretched her hand out, allowing the horse to sniff at it and hoping she wasn't tense enough to disturb it.

"It's sad, isn't it? That it's always the worst qualities that seem to be perpetuated throughout the cultures."

"It is very sad," Ariadne agreed, taking about half a step back as the horse nosed forward. "But it's also unnatural. Which means that people can learn better. It's just a matter of finding someone who can teach them."

She paused, frowning a little. "I don't mean to sound like some kind of holier-than-thou missionary," she added. "But I really do believe that people are good. Sometimes, they just forget about it."

"It's unnatural to hate?" Hermione asked, chuckling a bit more bitterly than she might have two year ago. "For some people, it's as natural as breathing. That doesn't make it right, and that doesn't automatically mean that they're beyond learning, but never underestimate a person's capability for irrational thoughts and behaviors."

Glancing back at Ariadne as the horse nosed curiously against her fingers, Hermione told her, "People are people. They're neither good nor bad. They just choose to do good things or they choose to do bad things. And sometimes, that choice is made for them due to circumstances beyond their control. All anyone can do is the best with what they have."

Ariadne normally didn't push back, but she somehow felt that Hermione needed it. She was an intellectual, clearly. So there was nothing wrong with an intellectual challenge. At least, every now and then.

"People were designed to be cooperative," she argued. "It's built into the design of the humanoid body itself. Otherwise, we'd be equipped with arms that could go all the way back and scratch that spot you can never reach."

The idea of intelligent design once again raised the topic of religion and spirituality, and Hermione still didn't want to go toe-to-toe with anyone on that subject and risk being insulting. It was bad enough in her own world, but here, where there were even more varieties of theology and dogma, she didn't want to chance tempers flaring. And while Ariadne seemed to be rather cheery most of the time, she still struck Hermione as more emotion-based than logic-based.

"Or we'd be equipped with enough common sense to develop backscratchers, or to simply rub up against something rough until it scratches the itch, the way cats do. Even felines have been able to work out that much for themselves, and they're as solitary as they come." Shaking her head and even managing a small, vaguely sad smile, she concluded, "Just because we're social creatures, it doesn't mean we all want to cooperate with one another. Oftentimes, our need to socialize can be more selfish than not."

She didn't take offense to Hermione disagreeing. But it did make her wonder, was she the type to disagree for disagreement's sake? Did she really believe the things she was saying? Or had something awful happened to her?

Possibly all three. You could never discount the infinite number of combinations out there.

Smiling to put her at ease, to make it clear that this wasn't a confrontation, she asked, "How can you socialize selfishly? Do you mean like, competing or lying? Because those aren't innately bad things. They just get twisted."

Hermione generally wasn't argumentative, not unless she truly did disagree with something. She'd just seen both the best and worst in humanity, and what she'd seen of Thedas hadn't exactly given her the impression that things were much better outside of her little sphere in the universe. Ariadne's optimism, while nice, was also liable to get her hurt if she didn't take on a more pragmatic viewpoint.

"I meant more along the lines of being friends with someone purely for your own benefit rather than for theirs," Hermione pointed out, letting her expression soften a little. She hadn't viewed the conversation as confrontational in the least, and she hoped Ariadne hadn't looked at any of it as such. "I'm not nearly so jaded as I appear, honest. I just know that not everyone has their friends' best interests in mind."

"I'm not sure I understand," Ariadne admitted. "How you can be friends with someone...and not benefit from it." She paused. "Although, I have to admit, I've never had very many friends."

As if that weren't blindingly obvious.

Airy was cheerful and optimistic and kind. But she did tend to leave people at an arm's length. Even here in Thedas, no one knew much about her. She would talk about home sometimes, but not about herself.

Katniss was the only person who knew she'd lost several sisters.

"There's an emotional benefit to any friendship, of course," Hermione pointed out. "But there are some people who only want to be friends with someone because they're popular, or rich, or very smart. To some, friends are a status symbol or a means to an end. That's why I'd never had very many friends as a child, either."

She still didn't have a lot of people she'd consider friends, actually. There were a few people she liked and willingly spent time with, and then there Harry and Ron. She'll never have anyone else like Harry and Ron, of that she was certain.

"If someone wanted to be friends with you because you were very smart, wouldn't that be a compliment?" she asked.

No one had ever, ever, ever called Ariadne smart. In fact, she couldn't imagine how she would respond to such a compliment. Equal parts flattered and incredulous, she supposed.

Of course, it was a moot point. Ariadne wasn't...smart-smart. She was clever. And streetwise. And she could even be incredibly instinctive. But the lacked the education to ever be smart.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she added. "I've never had a conversation like this before. It's interesting. A new perspective, one I had never considered. And I like new perspectives. I hope you don't mind."

"Not if they wanted to use those smarts to their own ends," Hermione replied, trying not to think of some of her earlier friendships. "Sometimes they just want to use you to cheat on an exam, or if they thought they could somehow manipulate you to get something they need."

Smiling, Hermione turned away from the horse and looked at Ariadne head-on. "No, not at all. I'm just sorry if I'm coming off sounding particularly jaded or pessimistic. Like I'd said, I'm not, really. I've just seen some of the best and worst of people. That sort of thing happens when you live during a war, I suppose."

"I can tell," Ariadne said.

She was going to leave it at that, but realized how it sounded and quickly added, "That you lived during a war. There's a certain look that a lot of people get. It makes it easy to tell that they've been through a lot. I see the look all the time. Saw. And see. Both here and at home."

In some of her less guarded moment, she probably had it too. But as was Ariadne's wont, she pushed it back, preferring optimism.

"I'm sorry," she continued. "That you had to go through terrible things, whatever they were. But for what it's worth, I've seen war break a lot of people. And you seem very unbroken to me. Which is a good thing."

Hermione was silent for a few moments before softly bringing up, "It's strange, isn't it? You would think, now with the possibility of a potentially infinite number of worlds in front of us, we'd find one where people were actually relatively peaceful. I can't help but wonder if that just proves that sentience will eventually breed war."

Whereas Ariadne was clearly an optimist, Hermione took the more logical route and stuck with pragmatism. It was just unfortunate that being realistic about things often sounded like pessimism. It said a lot about the state of the world. Or, well, worlds.

"I think making a conscious effort to be unbroken means I'm at least a little worn around the edges," she commented, managing a small smile. "I'm sorry that you've had to go through awful things, too. But it doesn't do to constantly think about the negative. I'd think you would know that better than most."

She smiled, ducking her head sheepishly. "That's why they say I'm aggressively cheerful, I guess," she replied.

Katniss put up a sign outside of her house: Beware of cat and aggressively cheerful visitors. She took it as a compliment.

"At the risk of being a little too aggressive," she added, "if you ever need to talk about some of your experiences...I'm a very good listener. And I know how to keep a secret." Oh, boy did she know how to keep a secret.

But she decided that enough was enough.

"I should let you mount your ride. I've taken up too much of your time."

"There are worse ways to be aggressive," Hermione acknowledged, smiling a touch wryly. "After all, we could all use a bit more cheeriness, given what we'd just been talking about."

Shaking her head, Hermione glanced back at the horses and replied, "I appreciate the offer, but most of what I'd have to say would require quite a lot of backdrop, and that might make for an unending conversation. But thank you. The same goes for you, too, of course."

Looking back at Ariadne, she shrugged and remarked, "I think I'd like to spend a little more time around the horses, even if I don't necessarily ride. You're welcome to stay with me if you'd like, unless you have something else that needs doing."

She considered pointing out that she was more than happy to listen to any 'backdrop' as well. But it was implied, really. Hermione clearly didn't want to talk. Which was perfectly fine.

Maybe not healthy, but fine.

Ariadne shrugged up one shoulder. "I think I'm better off admiring horses from a distance," she said. "They have such enormous feet!"

Hermione was more than willing to talk about her past. Or, well, most aspects of her past. There were still a few things that she hadn't been able to reconcile with yet, and so she chose to avoid the topic of the war primarily for those reasons, but she would still be able to pick and chose her story without making the truth suffer for it.

"They won't step on you!" Hermione laughed good-naturedly. "At least, not if you don't frighten them!"

"But how do I know what frightens them?" she asked. "Horse is one of the few languages I don't speak!"

It was a joke. For the most part.

Ariadne found herself suddenly feeling strangely proud. She'd gotten Hermione to laugh. And somehow, she sensed that it wasn't something that happened easily or very often.

But it was worth it.

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