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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's doing her a disservice by letting his hurt linger here. Anders closes his eyes for a moment and takes a breath, working to push everything back so he can focus and be a healer. That's what she needs.

"Here. Take a seat." Somehow his voice is calmer. "Please pull up your shirt as much as you're willing, and I'll spread it on so you can see and feel exactly how much is the right amount. Then you'll be free to go on your way, unless something else is injured you'd like seeing to."

He can do this. Ignore the personal, focus on the job. Not be himself. He hasn't disassociated from himself in sometime, not since getting out of the Circle, but he can try it again here.

While she doesn't like being this stilted around Anders - despite the fact that this certainly isn't the first time - Hermione is still surprised when he asks her to sit down and offers to administer the salve. Part of her is mildly horrified, remembering clearly what those hands are capable of. But she has to remember that this is Anders, and despite what she'd seen him do to a small child, he'd never so much as intimidated her before, not even after finding out about his past. She can work past her reservations. She can.

She just doesn't want to.

But she knows that nothing good can come out of it one way or another if she just stands there, and so after a few moments of silently staring at him, she concedes to take a seat, hesitantly tugging at the side of her shirt. The bruise is dark and clearly extends past the few inches Hermione reveals, but whether out of discomfort or modesty, she doesn't try to show him more of it.

"Thank you," she says after a moment, and she hopes it doesn't sound every bit as awkward as it feels.

"I'm a healer," he says quietly. Even in what she's seen, though he knows why it likely doesn't seem like it. Her world is so different. So better, from what he can tell. How could she understand what all was happening in there?

His hands glow for a moment after he takes the salve back. "Heating it a little," Anders explains, before he opens the jar and gets a small amount on his fingertips. His touch isn't tentative, though. As he said, he's a healer. This is what he knows, and his motions with spreading the salve over the displayed bruise are competent and sure.

Once he's done, he picks up a hand mirror and offers it out so she can see the layer on the bruise.

"It's not a little bruised up." He takes a breath. "I could make you a lot more comfortable, Hermione."

Hermione comes close to telling him that she knows he's a healer; he just also happens to be all manner of other things that she hasn't been able to fully process yet. Some of them are too horrible for her to really think about, considering how well they'd always seemed to get on. And especially considering that she's currently in a very vulnerable situation before him, letting him touch her bare skin in a way that she doesn't usually let anyone touch her.

She squirms uncomfortably despite knowing that he's only administering medication, only daring to breathe once he's no longer touching her. Silently taking the mirror and angling it so she can look at herself, Hermione can't help frowning a little; she'd known that it's tender enough that she can't sleep on that side (or even fully on her back), but it's still uglier and more widespread than she'd really realized.

Despite that, her fingers clench around the mirror for a moment when Anders offers to help her even more, and she wants to tell him that no, she doesn't think he can, that just being here with him is making her the very opposite of comfortable, thank you. But that's stubborn and stupid and pointless; there's no sense in letting herself continue to be in pain if Anders can make it go away, or at least help minimize it.

After a long pause, she puts the mirror down and tries her best to push away her fears and paranoia and general concerns. She has nothing to worry about from him. After all, it's not as though she's possessed.

"If it wouldn't be a bother...."

He waits, focusing on breathing, on not letting guilt drive him into a spiral while there's someone else around. Later he can crumble. Right now he's in the tents which means he needs to be a healer and not weak.

"It's not a bother," Anders assures her. "It's what I'm here for. And I'd..." It's not wise to continue, he knows it, but he's never been wise. "I consider you a friend, and I don't like seeing anyone hurting, least of all friends."

She might not consider him one anymore, but he thinks he'd prefer to know rather than have the painful not-knowing hang over him.

Reaching out, Anders hovers his hand over her bruise and his hand glows as he starts to cast, working to ease some of the internal damage.

He considers her a friend.

Hermione shouldn't feel as skeptical about that remark as she does. After all, Anders has never indicated that they aren't friends, or that he doesn't enjoy her company. She'd known that much after their first conversation in the library, when he'd seemed almost envious of the world she'd grown up in. But after seeing what she'd seen in that cave, after witnessing how quickly concern and sympathy and affection had turned to violence, she'd begun to question if she's ever really had any friends here.

She doesn't want to talk while he's working, doesn't want to disturb him or - worse yet - anger him, but she finds herself opening her mouth, a few words escaping before she can hold them back. "Would you still-...?"

She closes her mouth immediately, cutting herself off with a small frown. But regardless of tact or etiquette, she'd already started the question and he's likely to ask after it, so she steels herself for whatever harsh turn this conversation might take and finishes, "Would you still feel that way if I were ever possessed?"

He waits for her to continue, watching her, and when she finishes Anders takes a breath.

"Yes." It's a very easy answer. "I was possessed. How could I think any less of you if if happened to you?" What spurred this is obvious, though. It had been even before she'd said anything, because what he'd had to do made even him feel ill.

"I didn't... I didn't strike the boy down because I disliked him, or thought him weak, or anything along those lines, Hermione." Why is the question that undoubtedly is coming next. If he hadn't grown up in Thedas, he'd have the same question. While he starts calm, sorrow slowly enters his voice as he continues talking.

"There wasn't a choice. His eyes changed... and then they changed. The boy wasn't going to regain control. But he could still feel pain. He could still feel every attack they were making, and they were striking to wound, to slow, even though I said what to do. I didn't want him to hurt more."

While she'd known that Anders would have looked at his actions as ones committed out of desperation and mercy, Hermione can't help how she was raised. The Killing Curse is an Unforgivable Curse. And so killing is....

But she doesn't want to think of it in black and white terms, even if that's always been so much simpler. The trouble with reason and logic is that it doesn't always account for extenuating circumstances, and life is, essentially, a giant series of extenuating circumstances. Such as falling out of the sky and landing in a world filled with demons and where magic is not only known but also generally feared.

"You could have held them all back and I could have paralyzed him, kept him from hurting us," she murmurs, even if she knows that it's a weak argument. After all, it's not as though all mages share a hive mind that they can use to optimize their magic against physical attacks. But there's a part of her that's tired of accepting that there's simply no other way to do things; after all, even Voldemort had been defeated without Harry having to resort to the Killing Curse. "After the others had calmed down, we could have figured out some way to help him without killing him. We've done it before. We did it for you. So why couldn't we do it for him? And who else won't we be able to do it for?"

Because that's the meat of it, isn't it? They'd made every effort to help Anders, Anders, the man who'd made a series of poor choices that had led to more deaths than Hermione is entirely comfortable thinking about, because some in the Inquisition thought him vital. But Hermione's just a rifter, someone who may in fact secretly be a demon anyway. How many wrong moves can she afford to make before the people she'd come to think of as friends decide that she just isn't worth it?

"The difference is when they're lost." A beat, as he focuses on some of the deeper tissue damage, and then he continues. "There's... stages. You've seen the demons from the rifts. Normally, when someone becomes an abomination, their body becomes twisted to look similar to what's taken over. There's nothing left of the person at that point, the fourth and final stage."

"The Circles and Chantry teach that there aren't any other stages. That once someone is an abomination, they're lost. Which is why Herian was not going to be stopped - she believes in that still. When we entered the room, the boy was in the first stage. He was possessed, but spoke intelligently. He was in control, not Rage. That's how I spent... most of my possession. When he started getting angry, he went into the second stage. Rage was gaining control, taking over. You can still talk them down at that point, but there's risk to everyone around. They could attack with greater magical strength than any single mage, and greater physical strength than any single warrior. At least. I've been to that stage and back, more times than I'd like to admit."

Now he takes a breath. "And then there's the third stage. It's short, the transition between second and final. The eyes change further, the body begins to warp. There's still some of the person left, but it's fragments, pieces that won't go back together. They're lost, and you've only a little time before their strength and magical capability expand ten, a hundredfold. I used a paralysis glyph and he shook it off, Hermione. I couldn't have held Herian back, and you couldn't have held him. We had minutes at most before we would die... and then everyone in the village would die. If... If he hadn't been worked up, if people hadn't started accusing him and wanting to kill him, he, we might have saved him. We had a chance. But we lost it. We lost him to Rage. The boy was dead before his body was."

Hermione listens to Anders quietly as he tries to explain all this, tries to break it down in a way that she can digest. But she doesn't want to digest it; all it does is nauseate her, makes her feel a little more vehement about the fact that something could have been done. And really, she has no idea what it's like to be possessed. Who's to say that all of that vehemence won't attract a demon of her own?

At least she'd get an answer as to whether or not Anders would deal with her the same way he had that child.

"There's a difference between being dead and being lost," she murmurs softly. "One doesn't always imply the other. Anyone can find their way back home again, with the proper map and compass. Or guide, if someone is willing to show them the way. But we didn't guide him. We just pushed at him, despite knowing that there was something just under the surface. However you look at it, he's dead because we killed him."

Even if all Hermione might be guilty of is inaction rather than of actual violence. Given the end result, it's still just as bad.

He's quiet several moments before he nods.

"He's dead because we killed him." There isn't getting around that part, as much as it would be... not comfortable to do so, but a little comforting. "But the boy was dead before his body was. We killed him, gave Rage what it needed to overpower and shatter him, and then we killed Rage. The last cry," his voice falters for a moment before he resumes, "was a fragment. He was... He was shattered, irrevocably so, before I gave away the only weakness that a human abomination has. If there'd been any hope left, any at all, Hermione..."

Twice he's failed abominations now since he's been cured, twice he could have maybe done something and they've died. If he's the only one that benefits from a cure, what real worth is it?

She hears the way his voice falters, and she can't help feeling a spark of sympathy for Anders. She supposes that's a good sign; she wouldn't want to meet the person who looks at the world in black and white and doesn't notice enough of the gray to be able to feel for someone who's clearly in pain. That's part of what bothers her about this entire thing in the first place, isn't it? That certain people on their team had acted with little apparent regard as to that child's pain and terror?

But she still doesn't look at him, though by now it's as much because she can't bear to see him looking as broken as he sounds as it is because she's angry or uncomfortable.

"There's always hope, Anders," she breathes out quietly, her eyes brimming with tears. "That's the most terrible and the most wonderful thing about people. We always have to hope, even when things look hopeless. Especially then."

And Merlin, she's not seen such hopeless since the Wizarding War had been at its worse, and this is just everyday life for Thedosians.

There's tears in her eyes. He has no idea what to do aside from feel even worse because he's making her cry, and that's the opposite of helpful. Quickly he steps to the side and uses the hand that hasn't been touching ointment to grab a clean cloth square and bring it over and offer it out.

"I wish... Maker, I wish I believed that. That there was always hope. I've seen so many times when there's none. When it's all loss, when there's... When there's nothing."

Karl, his network in Kirkwall, the Starkhaven mages, so many people he'd failed to heal and failed to save and his list grows steadily longer.

She notices that he leaves her side, and she only has the chance to wonder about that for a moment before he's back again, holding something out to her. She'd argue that she isn't crying, but she's tired of arguing, tired of talking in circles and trying to rationalize the fact that she'd been involved in a large group of people from the Inquisition who'd essentially ganged up on and killed a child.

She accepts the cloth from him, lightly dabbing at her eyes as she tries to make herself focus on the conversation. Anders needs comforting as much as she does, even if she has to keep forcing herself to remember that.

"There's never nothing. Nothing can be built out of nothing. It's basic science, where I'm from. It's called the Law of Conservation of Energy: energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only transferred. It's not too different from hope. Even if you begin to lose hope in one thing, you have to learn to have hope in something else. Otherwise you wouldn't be able to go on."

"I don't know about energy transferring. I just know that sometimes faith and hope runs out, and one only moves forward because they can't stay still or stop, no matter how they want to. There's nothing deep or, or, or meaningful about that. It's just a thing that happens."

All of these worlds, with their studies so far ahead of Thedas, with their treatment of people so far ahead. How many centuries would it take to get there? How many more have to suffer before mages can know what Hermione's people do, or Kirk's?

"Maybe advancing the way your world has means that there's more hope. I don't know." Maybe it means it's easier to have higher ideals, when the ones that should be common sense are seen to. "Some situations don't have hope, and sometimes... Sometimes people run out of it too."

If he could have stopped after Karl died, he would have, but that's not something he's about to say. Not when she's upset enough about everything that she's been through here.

"I'm sorry. That you had to deal with that, that you have to be here in the first place." No one deserves Thedas.

"It isn't your fault I'm here," Hermione replies, though for all she knows, it might be. Maybe Anders had done something, maybe one of the mages right here in Skyhold had toyed with magic beyond their control, and that's really the root of all of this. But ultimately, Corypheus had started this, and he'll be the end of it, one way or another. Blaming anyone else for that sort of thing just wouldn't be fair.

"And it isn't your fault that-...." That that boy had been ripped away from his parents. That he'd been experimented on. That he'd been possessed. That he'd had to die. "-... what happened in the cave. It isn't your fault."

It would have happened whether or not Anders had been there, whether or not any of them had been there. Someone would have eventually put that boy out of his misery, no matter how much Hermione doesn't like the prospect. But it's clear that Hermione's feelings aren't the only ones to be taken into account here.

"Why are you a healer, Anders?"

What happened to the boy isn't quite his fault, but he hadn't managed to help the situation despite his efforts. He had to try better, harder, something in the future. Anders will not be the only abomination saved if he has anything to say about it.

The question draws him out of his thoughts of failure, though, and he blinks at Hermione before answering slowly.

"As in why, initially? Or..." He's had a great many questions asked of him. This one is new. "In the beginning it was, it was something I could do. It was the reason I got to live. If you escaped the Circle once you got punished, twice you were killed. But I was gifted, strong. I got to keep escaping and living. It took seven tries before I finally got out and stayed out. But then..."

His voice is thoughtful, though he takes a moment to shrug, to distance himself a little from this. Being open is not something he does often.

"I kept finding people who I could help. I was, I was working with Compassion then, and with her talking with me I started seeing needs beyond my own. Healing was how I could help. I couldn't give money, or food, or things, but I could heal. It's what I can give."

The words slow down as he looks down. "Our world is broken. It has been for such a long time. In trying to help it I broke it more, but at least I know that healing isn't causing new wounds or tears."

She nods at his initial request for clarification, though she'd meant why he was currently a healer as much as she had why he'd started out that way. Either way, he still manages to prove her point, even if he doesn't seem to fully realize it just yet.

"Healing is your way of helping people. And you wouldn't want to help people if you didn't have some sort of hope for them. Hope that they could be healed and go on to live better lives because of you. And most of them do."

It's not easy, looking in the eye when one takes into account what he'd done the last time she'd been on a mission with him. But somehow Hermione manages it, even if she can't manage the smile that she wishes she could offer. But if nothing else, the steady eye contact is a start, and hopefully Anders recognizes that.

"Whatever could or couldn't be done about that boy, it's in the past, and so what's done can't be undone. But your world is still here. That means it isn't yet broken beyond repair. So hope for something better for it, Anders. Like I do."

He meets her eyes and listens, gaze dropping down once or twice as she talks. It's not easy to be wrong... but he is, here. There wouldn't be a point in healing people if he didn't have some hopes for them, however small.

And she wouldn't be meeting his eyes rather than shying away if she didn't have some hope for him, however small. Anders takes a slow breath.

"I'll... I will. I want it to be better for the next generation. If they can live never knowing the loss of everything when their magic manifests, then that's, that's a change that couldn't have been dreamed of just five years ago. And you've, you're helping with that, Hermione. You represent a world where it's possible, where young people have hope."

The rifts are awful, tearing at the world. The rifters? He thinks many of them gifts.

Hermione could continue to be standoffish, if she really wants to. She's been known to hold grudges for weeks, months even, sometimes even when there wasn't really anything to hold a grudge against. But given where she is and what she's seen, life may just be too short to hold grudges.

The mention of future generations is another sign of hope, though she does look down when he mentions that mages have so much to lose upon discovering that they're mages. She still can't fathom that, given how supportive her parents had been when Professor McGonagall visited and confirmed that their daughter had been a witch - supportive, if a little taken aback by the shock of it all. But here in a world where magic is no secret, there shouldn't be shock at all, and so the fact that parents would willingly run their own children out of their homes if they turn out to be mages....

"I wish I could help them," she murmurs softly. "The children who get turned away from their former lives. I wish this was the sort of place where I could feasibly take them in. No, I wish I could hex their close-minded families - nothing major, mind, just something like the pranks young wizards and witches play on each other, like... like temporarily covering them in hair or enlarging their teeth - and then I'd take in the young mages. I'd set up proper schools instead of Circles, where they would learn to control their magic and still be free to visit their families, if they want to. It wouldn't stop Abominations from happening, but if they had a class such as Defense Against the Dark Arts like we have at Hogwarts... maybe things would be a little easier for them."

"The school setup, one that can be attended by mages and non-mages, coming and going, that's what could be the most useful. It's what I'd like to aim us for."

He takes a breath, shaky, his voice low. "You know the Dalish very rarely have abominations? They're not taught to fear their magic and those with it, but the use of it. It's fear that creates so many abominations, fear, being abandoned, being alone and feeling like you're backed into a corner. And even..."

Another breath, and a shake of his head. "A prank hex wouldn't help. I don't think anything would have helped when m--, when someone's father rushes to get rid of their mage child as quickly as possible, or they hear the words disowning them. Giving mages a safe place helps, but the fear and stigma is another thing on top of that."

Knowing his mom still loved him had done a little for him, but she'd still let him be taken without argument or protest, and his father had gotten him taken away as quickly as possible. covering his father in hair wouldn't have done anything to take away from that pain.

Hermione hears that pause before he mentions "someone's" father, and she can read between the lines. And she wishes, more than anything, that she couldn't. If Anders and other mages, all the other mages all around him, had been abandoned by their parents, how can the non-mages of the world not expect a fair amount of bitterness among them?

"If I had a child here, I wouldn't let anyone take him or her away from me. Loving a child any differently because of magical ability is as senseless as loving them differently because of their athletic ability. A stronger, faster, more agile child could grow up to either be a skilled warrior or a bullying lout. That's why you encourage children to play up to their strengths while teaching them responsibility."

She has stronger feelings about this sort of thing, and knowing that the person she's talking to can directly relate doesn't help matters. So she gives herself a moment to take a breath before looking up at Anders again, pushing aside all of the initial trepidation she'd felt as being in the tent with him.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Anders. That any of the mages had to go through that. And I'm sorry that anything happens to make people think that sort of thing is necessary. But... if I'm going to be here for any extended period of time, then I promise: I'll do what I can to help people realize that just because someone is different doesn't mean that they're dangerous. Mage, rifter, Qunari... abomination."

Sometimes it's freeing to hear other people get worked up about matters. He doesn't know why, but it is. All the same, he can understand why she doesn't have the energy to maintain the anger, especially after all that's happened.

"It's... It's not all right. But it's in the past, and I've dealt with it. And I'd like to help you with that promise. People need... they need a chance. They need to know they're people, rather than being treated wrongly for how they're born. And if we can find a way to help full abominations, fully merged ones, as opposed to ones who are still somewhat separate, then so much the better."

There's so far to go for all of the groups at risk, but at least there are people aware of the problem instead of simply ignoring it now. They have a chance.

It's good to hear Anders continue to talk about people needing a chance. Even though she's sure he's talking about the oppressed, that could just as easily apply to the oppressors themselves; the whole world can't be so stubborn that they won't admit that they've been wrong and try to find a better way to change things. The Inquisition is proof enough of that.

"Look at that," she remarks, a very tiny, wry smile quirking at her lips. "You're beginning to sound more hopeful already."

It still hurts, thinking about what she'd seen in the cave, about what he'd been forced to do, and if she does think about it for too long, her throat dries out a bit. But she can push back the nausea, knowing that it's hardly as though he'd taken any pleasure in that sort of thing, and she lets a little of the tension fall from her shoulders. "You're a good man, Anders. You've been forced to make some awful decisions in your life, but you're still a good man. I'm sorry if I ever made you doubt that."

He's too emotionally exhausted to offer her a small smile, but he can offer her a hand.

"You're forgiven." It's not really her fault he doubts it often; she'd simply brought it back to the forefront. He's got more friends here now than he's ever had in his entire life and yet the thought of losing even one of them is painful. Even more painful is the thought of losing them due to his actions. "I'm very sorry for what you've already been through in this world and what you're likely to still face. But I'm glad to have you as a friend."

[OPEN] Heaven bend to take my hand

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So late but this thread was too good to drop.

♥

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