faderift | (no subject)

WHO: Cole and Hermione (and Dandelion the nug)
WHAT: Secret birthday fun times
WHEN: 19th of Kingsway
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: n/a

There are dozens of little sadnesses all over Skyhold. People who are concerned with the still-drafty corridors, who miss the families and friends who are far from the Inquisition, who fear those who ought to be their colleagues. To Cole, it's the everyday noise of life, the same as the rush of the waterfall or the wind through the mountains.

Often, however, one or two will bubble up above the rest on a given day. Worries and sorrows that normally would have been nothing of special note start to hurt a little bit more. That's when Cole has no choice but to listen.

And that's how Hermione will find herself being followed around, on the 19th of Kingsway, by a particular nug in little red boots, with a red bow around her neck.

The nug's focus on her may appear to be a mystery, until she checks her pockets and finds bits of fresh turnip. Which she definitely did not gather herself.

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While Hermione notices the odd sight of a nug in boots and a bow, she writes it off as simply a pet that someone had decided to unleash around Skyhold. She'd seen stranger things, after all, and while this is among the oddly cuter side of strange, she doesn't think much of it.

Until she realizes that it seems to be following her throughout the courtyard, too close to be coincidence and yet too far away to be considered an overly sociable domesticated animal. She stops, assuming that the person it belongs to has to be somewhere in the vicinity, but after a brief look around, she frowns down at the nug just a bit.

"Hello, you," she murmurs, holding her hands out to show it that she has nothing in them. "Are you lost? Hungry? I can take you the kitchen, but I haven't got-...." She'd been patting herself downs she speaks, in the off-chance she has something that could be considered a treat. She has no idea what nugs actually eat, and so she's surprised when she withdraws her hands, clutching pieces of what look to be like some sort of root vegetable.

Under her breath, she murmurs a bemused, "Turnips? ... what on Earth...?"

Dandelion is somewhat domesticated, but still not overly sociable. That's the way of the nug: always a little bit afraid of anything bigger than itself.

Still, she wobbles along after Hermione in her little red booties, catching up as she stopped and sniffing at the grass near her feet, then upwards a little.

And then the turnips appear, and her nostrils flare, and she lets out a little squeak as she tries to rear up on her hind legs, only managing a tiny, enthusiastic hop.

She's never really seen a nug up close before; they're not overly pretty little things, but someone had seemed determined to play dress up with this one. Hopefully it had been to emphasize its very sweet nature (she doesn't think attack nugs would work out very well), but Hermione is still a little cautious as she stoops down towards it.

"Can you eat this?" she asks, as though expecting a response. Putting a small amount of the unexpected snack in one palm, she holds it out to the little nug, amending her question with, "Without getting sick, I mean?"

The well-dressed nug hobbles forward to snuffle at the turnips, and begins crunching on them.

"Nugs can eat lots of things."

The voice comes from not quite behind Hermione, but somewhat over her shoulder. He's there when she looks: crouched on a nearby low wall, the brim of his hat tipped down to cover his face.

"They nibble on stones in the dwarven caverns, when food is scarce."

It's always a bit discomfiting when unfamiliar animals begin eating out of her hand, especially when they're wild and thus potentially dangerous. But given that this particular nug is fashionable and appears particularly innocuous, she doesn't seem to mind it, and is even reaching out with her free hand to attempt to pet the little creature before she hears a voice apparently speaking to her.

She glances over her shoulder, frowning a little at the gaunt man. There's something oddly familiar about him, as though she's spoken to him before, but she can't remember ever actually sitting down to a conversation with him and no name jumps to mind. It bothers her. Quite a lot, really. Her memory is usually better than that.

But rather than focus on that, she instead remarks, "I didn't know that. I don't know much about nugs at all, really. Is this one yours?"

"Not like that."

Not in the way she means. Not in the way a number of others have meant it. By now, he knows how to explain the difference.

"She's mine, but she's not my nug. She's my friend." He climbs down off the wall. "Her name is Dandelion. It is now. She couldn't tell me what it was before."

Dandelion gives a little squeak, while she keeps munching on the turnip pieces.

"She liked how you were patting her on the head. There's an itch, behind her right ear."

Hermione isn't sure what to make of this man or his nug - his friend, apparently - but she manages not to frown down at the small creature as she squeaks against her hand. "Hello there, Dandelion. I'm Hermione."

Before she realizes it, she's reaching to gently pat at Dandelion, carefully scratching behind her ear. Though she's still looking at the nug, her question is directed at Cole as she asks, "You can talk to nugs? I didn't know anyone could do that."

"Anyone can talk," he says, mildly confused. She just said hello, after all. "I can understand. Sometimes."

He moves to Dandelion's side, still leaving Hermione plenty of room to offer scratches, but also trailing his fingers along the wrinkly, pink skin of Dandelion's back.

"Nugs are simple. They're always kind, when others are kind to them. They're afraid a lot of the time, but only when there's danger."

As opposed to people, who don't always accept kindness. Or are afraid for no reason.

"I mean-..." she starts, but he seems to know what she'd meant, even if his clarification doesn't really clarify much of anything at all.

When he comes near her, Hermione once again feels a tiny spark of familiarity, but she just can't place, and she looks at him carefully as she tries to pin down his face in her mind's eye.

"So she isn't afraid of me because she doesn't sense danger?" Well, at least the nug wouldn't be wrong. It has nothing to fear from Hermione herself, even if danger has a way of following her around. "And here I thought it was just because she smelled food on me. Though I must confess, I have no idea how or when it got in my pockets; I hope she doesn't get sick."

He gives a little nod at the question about danger. Although the turnips certainly helped.

"They were cut fresh this morning," he assures her. He had sensed that little ripple of sorrow from her very early in the morning, and had crept into the kitchens to take the handful of vegetable from the cutting board.

"You have a fondness for small things. I thought she might make you smile."

Hermione looks up at him when he claims that the turnips were fresh, wanting to ask how he would know. But then he seems to have knowledge of other things, and her brow furrows in confusion as she tries to figure out how. Now she's sure she's seen him, and given how many people she's met at Skyhold in the six months she'd been here, it wouldn't be unheard of for her to have trouble placing a particular face.

"Why would you care about whether or not I smile?"