faderift | [OPEN] Heaven bend to take my hand

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[OPEN] Heaven bend to take my hand

WHO: Hermione Granger and YOU
WHAT: Hermione's seen some shit and is trying to get over it.
WHEN: Mid-Kingsway through the end of the month.
WHERE: In and around Skyhold.
NOTES: Takes place after this plot, so some threads will likely have mentions of child death and/or signs of depression. Please let me know if you'd like me to avoid any triggery topics.

Library

Though the curly-haired rifter has become a staple in the library over the past six months, Hermione has been relatively scarce there lately. She has no real heart for research anymore, not after the things she'd uncovered in those journals in that cave in Fromage, and there's so much more to Thedas than what can be found in books. She'd learned that the hard way, and now instead of reading and taking notes, she finds her thoughts wandering as they rarely do. For once, she can use a distraction from her failed attempts at studying.

Stables

Avoiding people isn't always as easy as she'd like it to be. But if she can preoccupy herself with animals, Hermione can withstand a bit of small talk. There's usually a kitten or two playing around the stables, and if not, at least helping to feed some of the horses will make her feel productive as well as distracted. And if that doesn't work, there's a certain dracolisk that she'd been slowly learning to get friendly with, assuming it won't sense her dour mood and become agitated.

Battlements

The battlements are actually quite pretty. She'd never really come up here before - if she wasn't in the library then that usually means she wanted to be social, and so the courtyards were where she'd spent more of her time - but now that she's looking for a change of scenery... well, there are worse places to get some quiet with a beautiful view. She's not always alone, since there are always people passing back and forth, but most people don't seem all that keen on hassling the young woman perched in between two turrets, staring out into the mountains. Indeed, unless someone happens to recognize her or just manages to catch her as she wipes at a stray tear, most probably wouldn't even know she's there.

Healing Tents

Returning from Emprise had been difficult, for more reasons than one. Beyond the obvious, Hermione still had a few physical injuries that she'd intended to ask the healers in her group to help with on their way back, but had clearly never gotten around to it due to the extenuating circumstances. Of course, she can't indefinitely deal with waking up with a sharp pain in her back and some of the bruises had begun to look particularly gruesome, so there's nothing wrong with making the occasional visit to the healing tents. If she takes care of one thing at a time and sees a different healer each time, it minimizes the chance of any awkward questions being asked, which is all the better; she's not ready to talk about that dreadful day and is in no rush to change that.

Wildcard!

She probably won't be quite so cheery until later on in the month, but Hermione still needs to eat, drink, bathe, and presumably sleep. She may be a little awkward around those that had gone to Emprise du Lion with her, but she isn't about to actively ignore anyone or send them off. Her nerves might be a bit frayed, but there's still such a thing as etiquette, after all.

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Sam, naturally, spends plenty of time in and around the stables. Bill is being a bit more cooperative today than he had been last time they'd met, following placidly along behind his master as he chews on a bit of hay.

"Hullo, Miss Hermione," Sam says cheerfully, and stops, eyes going wide with delight at the sight of the tiny kitten flat on its back, batting at Hermione's fingers. He smiles, eyes going soft. "Well now, look at what you found."

The kitten is almost enough to put a small smile to Hermione's face; as it is, her expression is soft, her brow no longer furrowed with her morbid thoughts. While she's not really in much of a talkative mood, hearing Sam's voice behind her makes her look up as the tiny animal catches one of her fingertips between its forepaws, unsure of what to do with its prize.

"Hello, Samwise," she returns, voice soft and just a bit hoarse. She's been doing more crying than talking lately, or at least feels as though she has, but she'd rather he pay attention to the kitten than to that. "You'd be amazed what sorts of things come out looking for you when you have treats."

"Isn't that the truth!" Sam answers, following Hermione's lead and keeping his own voice down. It'd be no good at all to scare the kitten away. "I knew a pony once - you couldn't get within ten feet of him with even a single carrot in your pocket, or you'd have a pocket full of interested pony-nose. He always knew!"

He crouches down next to Hermione, though he's near enough to the ground as it is. "Hullo, little one," he calls softly, and extends a finger for the kitten's inspection.

"Present company?" Hermione asks, glancing up at Bill. It's nice to see the pony being less stubborn now than he'd been when she'd last seen him.

She looks back down at the kitten as she feels it roll over onto its feet, the back of her finger lightly stroking along it as it takes an interest in Sam and the offered digit. It looks as though he's getting ready to pounce, and Hermione hums softly, slightly amused for the first time in what feels like ages. "Careful; he looks like he thinks he's in the midst of a hunt."

Sam looks confused for a moment, then his face clears as he sees Hermione looking up at Bill.

"Oh, no," he assures her, shaking his head. "This was another pony, back home. Bill's a lot more patient than that!" He smiles affectionately up at the pony, who looks placidly back. "Anyway it'd hardly work, now would it, travelling with a pony determined to eat up all your food!"

He looks back down at the kitten as it rolls over, smiling in delight at the way its tail flicks back and forth as it follows his finger with his eyes. "So he does," he agrees, twitching his finger. The kitten stiffens, then leaps forward, falling onto its back again as it catches his finger between its paws, and he laughs, stroking its fur. "I only wish I had something to give him; a successful hunt should mean food at the end, even for a little kitten."

"I traveled with two teenage boys; it's about the same sort of struggle when it comes to keeping food available." It's the first time she's told anything remotely like a joke since she got back from Emprise. She'd thank Sam, if she wouldn't have to explain to him why.

She watches the kitten with a vague, faraway sort of expression on her face. At Sam's comment, Hermione opens up her satchel at her side, which seems to draw the immediate attention of the cat. After she rifles inside, Sam can probably see why; she offers him a small piece of cheese to give to the kitten, explaining, "I think this should count. It's no saucer of milk, but most cats I've known are rather fond of cheese."

"Teenage?" Sam echoes, furrowing his brow in confusion. It clears a moment later. "Oh! D'you mean tweens? Well now that's easy enough to believe; you'd hardly credit how often Mr. Pippin ate, and how much! I had to hide food away just to make certain we wouldn't run out." He shakes his head, then smiles in delight as Hermione produces the cheese. "Well now! That'll do nicely, I reckon." And it seems to; the kitten sniffs eagerly, then rears back and pounces enthusiastically on the cheese.

Though the term tweens refers to a younger age group in Hermione's world than it does in the Shire, she doesn't try and clarify any such thing. Instead, she's just content to watch Sam as he happily encourages the kitten to pounce for his reward. "I've gotten used to carrying around spare bits of food," she reveals. "It helps, when your next meal isn't a guarantee. A shame cats can't do the same, but I suppose that's why they hunt."

"You?" Sam forgets the kitten, looking up at Hermione with concern etched into his face. "But Miss Hermione, why would you need to worry about food? I thought you went to wizard school, back home - and the Inquisition'll give you everything you want here!"

Talking about the war really isn't something Hermione is of any mind to do right at that moment, but she supposes she doesn't really have to go into detail. Taking a deep breath, she focuses on the kitten that seems to have taken a shine to Sam and explains, "We'd been in the middle of a war. My best friend was in danger, and since he was also instrumental to stopping the war, my other best friend and I went on the run with him until we accumulated everything we needed to defeat our enemies. For almost a year, things were... difficult."

Sam listens silently, his expression suddenly solemn. This is important, he realizes - and something not at all enjoyable to talk about. But it's all too familiar. The war, the friend in danger, a long, difficult quest to defeat a terrifying Enemy before it's too late.

"I'm sorry, Miss Hermione," he says quietly, with a sympathetic, or, more accurately, empathetic look. "That's hard! And it's not fair, neither; not for anyone." He sighs, a long, sad exhale. "No one should have to leave their home like that and live on the Road, not for so very long. Not without knowing - knowing if they'll ever get back, or see home again."

He pauses, lip trembling. Sam's avoided thinking of the Shire, of home, as much as he can; or at least of thinking of his future, and whether or not it may ever include returning to Number Three, Bagshot Row, and all that he'd left behind. His expression grows thoughtful, reluctantly resigned. "But I suppose none of us has a choice, in the end. Not when there's a job to be done."

It's clear to Hermione that Sam is referencing the fact that all rifters are stuck in transit, not knowing if they'll ever get back home. But when she looks up at him, she notices there's something else in his gaze, something that hurts on a level that it really shouldn't. Sam is sweet and kind and has a sort of child-like innocence about him; he shouldn't be able to exhibit empathy when someone is talking about a war-torn existence.

Nor should he bear that expression of resignation. Hermione hesitates for only a moment before scooting towards him, ending up at his side and uncertainly reaching out, arm not quite draped over his shoulders. "We can choose whether or not we want to do the job," she points out softly. "That's always up to us. We get to decide whether or not that job is worth doing, and whether it's worth the sacrifices we have to make along the way."

Sam smiles encouragingly up at her when she moves closer, but there's still sadness in his expression.

"That's what I thought too!" he says. "And it's true, I suppose. There's always the chance of turning back. I suppose we still might." And it's clear that we isn't referencing Hermione herself at all, but someone else entirely. "But I keep thinking, what sort of home would it be to go back to, knowing the danger's still out there, and we might have stopped it? After all someone's got to finish the job, or there won't be any real home left for anyone, sooner or later." He sighs.

"Anyhow I couldn't turn back - if I ever get back. I did promise. Home by the long road or not at all!" He falls silent, now staring moodily down at the ground, entirely unaware of just how much he had just said, or how little sense it all might make.

It isn't hard to see that Sam is talking about some sort of personal quest that he'd left unfinished when he'd gone through the rift, and that makes Hermione feel for him even more. She does wrap her arm around his shoulders now, trying to be comforting despite not knowing the full extent of it all.

"Then you've made a choice to be the bigger person and do what you can to protect your home, rather than wait comfortably in your backyard for the danger to come to you. It's not an easy choice, and it doesn't get easier with time; I can vouch for that. But it's very brave of you, and very noble to live up to a promise. Bravery gets rewarded in the end, Sam. One way or another."

She'll just ignore the faces that arise in her mind's eye of some of the brave people she'd known who hadn't made it to the end of their respective stories. She doesn't want to think of someone like Sam facing a similar fate.

Judging by the troubled look on Sam's face, he doesn't quite believe her reassurances either. After all, Gandalf had been brave, and he hadn't been rewarded at all. But that hardly seems like something to bring up when Hermione's trying so hard to make him feel better, and he smiles up at her gratefully. It does help, a bit.

"Thank you, Miss Hermione," he says sincerely. There's a pause, and then he adds, his tone lighter, "Though that's a funny way of putting it - being the bigger person! It hasn't made me bigger at all."

She knows better than most how easy it is to lose sight of hope; she's been in the presence of Dementors, after all. But she's glad that Sam is at least prepared to move onto lighter subjects without completely dismissing the darkness in his particular situation.

"Well, you've a big heart, and I'm sure this experience has made it even bigger," Hermione tells him, lightly squeezing his shoulders before letting her arm slip away. "And that's all that really matters."

Sam looks genuinely touched by the compliment, ducking his head shyly to hide his blush.

"Softhearted, more like; and it's not always a good thing," he says, thinking of his gaffer's admonishments over him being too sensitive. "But it's clear you're the kindest one of us, Miss Hermione; I would've said so even before you told me all that about what you did - going without food, and all!"

Sam is sweet and innocent enough that Hermione can't help feeling at least a little better about his company, though there's still some dark part of her that wonders if some Thedosians are daft enough to think that even he might secretly be a demon. But it's easier to shrug off what Thedosians might say when she's among another rifter, so she takes a small breath that almost sounds like a huff of laughter.

"I wouldn't say that I'm the kindest, not when you're around for competition for that title. But don't ever let anyone tell you that you're too soft-hearted for your own good. Caring about people isn't a weakness; sometimes it's the only thing that separates us from our enemies, so we should embrace it."

"Well," says Sam, clearly flustered by the compliment. He blushes, momentarily at a loss for words. "Well! But then it's not a competition at all, I suppose, is it? But thank you all the same, Miss Hermione." He smiles shyly at her, before jumping back to what was - at last to him - a very important revelation she'd shared with him. "Leastways there's plenty of food for us all here!"

Hermione finds herself feeling simultaneously bad and yet pleased when she sees Sam's blush, but she knows he's liable to get over it soon enough. It's hardly as though he's never heard someone say something similar to him before, if he always acts like this.

"You're welcome, Samwise. And yes, I might miss some of the food and drink from home, but I'm glad the Inquisition sees to it that none of us run the risk of starving. It's probably more than what can be guaranteed for some poorer villages, which might at least partially explain why there always seem to be new faces hereabouts."

The thought of starving villagers is enough to sober Sam. He nods solemnly. "Oh, believe me, Miss Hermione, I'm glad too. Very glad indeed! But, if you don't mind me asking, what is it you miss from home? Perhaps we can make it here - or something close anyhow."

When asked about what she misses from home, Hermione's first thoughts always go back to her friends and her parents, but she knows that's not what Sam means in this case. So she smiles absently, shrugging a shoulder.

"Oh, I don't know. I miss more memories associated by certain comfort foods and snacks, I suppose. Pumpkin juice in the mornings while reviewing for exams, for instance. Pasta with my family while on holiday. Chocolate frogs and butterbeer with my friends. A bit of magic goes into the chocolate frogs - which aren't real frogs at all, in case you were wondering - but other than that, I think most of that can be replicated easily enough here. Though, granted, I don't recall ever seeing pasta in Thedas."

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[OPEN] Heaven bend to take my hand

stables

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