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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Kirk was glad at least one of them was, honestly. He didn't want them to become jaded, to lose the parts of themselves that had compassion for the people around them. Yes, life was harsh here, but shedding tears for that harshness wasn't a weakness. More people should, he thought. Maybe then more might care, more might come to see the change this world truly needed.

"That's not true. I think Thedas needs someone like you too," he murmured. "Your magic doesn't define you, Hermoine. You're a good person, who speaks up for the right and the morale thing. You're that voice we all need in the heat of things, to remind us not to get lost and that there's always another choice. That's very useful, Hermoine. Damn important, even."

Hermione outright scoffed at the thought of Thedas needing more people like her. Unless he meant more people from her world, people who were used to adapting their magic to unconventional circumstances and making it look easy, she highly doubted any Thedosian would want to deal with a young woman being dragged into battle and shaking and crying at the first sign of trouble. Even if it had been rather gut-wrenching trouble.

"It would be more useful if I didn't lose that voice when it matters most," she remarked bitterly, remembering how she'd been so paralyzed by watching the horror unfold before her that she hadn't so much as spoken a word, even before it had become clear that they'd been dealing with an abomination. "Or if people would listen. But how much of a voice do rifters really have, Kirk? Especially one who can do magic? If half this world thinks you're secretly a demon, I can only imagine what they and the other half think of me."

"We lose our voices entirely, if we never speak," he said softly, looking down at her. "And I think that you can do magic is important. You show them - you are living proof - that the way they have been doing things doesn't have to be." He gave a half shrug. "And honestly, I've earned my fair share of enemies so being called a demon isn't the worst thing to happen to me. All you and I can do is stay true to ourselves and what we believe in. And maybe that'll be enough to help change this world."

He let out a sigh, reaching down to pick up another apple and pull out a knife to cut it open as he had the other.

"Don't try and take on to much, Hermoine. Just do what you can, and that's all anyone can ask."

Hermione had always been a realist, but she'd been used to dealing with the extremes of naive optimism and cynical pessimism. But Kirk? For being an adult well past his school years, he seemed to be so mind-numbingly optimistic that Hermione didn't know whether to feel sorry for him or be angry at him.

"We can't change a world that doesn't even want us in it, Kirk," she retorts, frowning deeply as she absently watches him cut through the second apple. "I wouldn't care so much about people calling us demons, but after seeing how they treat demons? Especially when it had been in the guise of a child? I think my magic would be better spent looking for a way out of here before certain members of the Inquisition decide we've worn out our welcome."

Maybe he was. He had more than enough reason not to be, considering all the things he had seen and done. But he just couldn't make himself live like that. He couldn't keep focusing on the bad and never look forward to the good or keep hoping for it. What sort of life was that to lead, seeing only the darkness and never the light? Good things didn't happen if you never looked for them.

"And that's your choice," he acknowledged. "I don't blame you. I want to go home too. I have a ship, a family, I want to see again. A universe to explore. But we are here, Hermoine. And I care about people here. And while I am here, until I go back, I want to try and make this world even a little bit better. This world doesn't want us, and we didn't want to be here, but we have to make the best of it." He pushed up from the bale of hay, turning and leaving the apple beside her.

Covering half her face in one hand, Hermione tried to take a few slow breaths in an effort to stave off yet another headache. She'd been through deep spirals of despair, but she'd always had Harry or Ron to help pull her out of them. Kirk wasn't Harry or Ron, and she didn't want to hold that against him. It wasn't fair to him, and it wouldn't help her at all.

"I have been making the best of it," she replied, voice surprisingly steady. "And if this is the best...."

Again, that wasn't fair to him, or to the decent people they'd met here, and it certainly wasn't any sort of help. Looking down at the apple besides her, Hermione forced out a long, slow sigh, preferring that over a sob. "I care about the people here, too. Please don't think that I don't. That's part of the problem. I don't want to be afraid of the people I care about."

He came around and crouched in front of her, reaching up to take her hands gently in his. He rubbed at them, his palms calloused from days of work, both before and after coming to Thedas.

"I know it's hard," he said softly. "Things like this make looking for the good parts hard, believe me. But if nothing else, have faith in the people you care about. That's what I've always put my trust in, and it's worked out pretty good so far. Probably not very helpful right now, I know, but it's kind of all I got."

He was still being so amazingly earnest, and Hermione had no idea where he could find that sort of sincere sentimentality in light of everything that had happened, of everything they'd witnessed. She could feel the tears spilling along the sides of her cheeks as she looked at him, trying to figure out how a man could care so much when even Hermione Granger was beginning to get exhausted.

"You're kind of all I've got, too," she noted, the faintest trace of mild amusement in her voice. She still felt far more sad than amused, though, but she gave his hands a small squeeze regardless. "I'm not sure how that happened. But thank you." She might not particularly feel better, but knowing that there was still at least someone here who cared about her as a person and not just as someone who can close rifts did mean quite a lot to her.

He had seen worse. He had seen so much worse. He had watched a world die, watched the closest thing he had to a father be gunned down, had faced his own death, betrayal, and watched his home be torn apart. It was horrible, seeing a child day that way, but in the grand scheme of things it was another dark mark in the book of his life. It sat there, alongside all the good, which would be forgotten if you focused only on the bad. He would take this experience, learn from it and make it part of him and shape him, but he would not let it define him or his worldview.

Slowly he edged down his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close into a hug. "I'm here for you Hermoine. I know this hard, so anything you need, I'll try my best for you."

She didn't know when it was that she'd begun feeling this affinity for Kirk, or why it had even started, but Hermione was beyond questioning that sort of thing now. He was here, he was willing to listen, and though no one could ever really be a substitute for Harry or especially Ron, he was the closest thing she had to either of them right now. Pushing him away or otherwise not acknowledging that, especially while she was at her most fragile, would be stupid. Hermione wasn't stupid.

So though it hurt, that hug felt like permission to let the dam burst, and she threw her arms around Kirk as she folded in against him, letting the tears come. She couldn't say thank you, not right now, not when anything that would come out of her open mouth would sound like a sob, but hopefully he would know that her gratitude was there and overwhelming as she hid her face against his shoulder and let herself cry.

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[OPEN] Heaven bend to take my hand

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