faderift | You'll fight and you'll make it through

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You'll fight and you'll make it through

WHO: Hermione and OPEN!
WHAT: Catch-all for the month (let me know if you'd like a particular starter)
WHEN: Wintermarch, going into Guardian if need be
WHERE: Throughout Skyhold
NOTES: Feel free to assume prior minor CR between them, especially if your character would have taken/taught any classes involving magic or Thedosian history/culture. I'm willing to handwave more major previous CR if that would make the thread move along more easily, but we can hash out those details either via PM or on plurk (

StarryOblivion).

Archery range

To her credit, Hermione was trying.

Her magic still wasn't coming along as seamlessly as she would hope, and so she'd bitten the bullet and decided that she'd need to learn other ways of defending herself, since she couldn't rightfully stay within the confines of Skyhold forever. Most weapons were too large or heavy for an untrained person of smaller stature, and the ones that weren't would force her to get much closer to an enemy than she would want to, especially if bloodshed was going to be involved. Given all that, archery seemed the best bet. She could stay a safe distance from most of the fighting and also run with her weapon without it tripping her up or throwing off her balance. And besides, she'd used a bow and arrow before.

Once.

For fun.

And she hadn't been very good.

Which explained why she'd raised the bow before the arrow was properly nocked, resulting in the arrow unexpectedly flying loose with an almost comical twang! and a gasp from the startled young witch. She widened her eyes as she instinctively looked around, hoping that no one had seen that, before realizing that she should be more concerned with where the arrow had gone and fervently hoping it hadn't managed to somehow hit someone.

Perhaps she should stay away from weapons for a while?

Training Grounds

She'd made it quite clear to anyone who offered to spar with her that she didn't know the first thing about fighting without any sort of magic, but even so, Hermione wasn't really going to leave anything to chance. She'd been tortured before, and while no physical injury could match what had been done to her, she still wasn't a big fan of pain and was in no hurry to subject herself to any injuries that may require more than a quick visit to the healing tents.

Long hair pulled back into a bun and wearing as much light armor as she could get away with without hindering her movement, Hermione always stood stiffly as she eyed her opponent, looking for weaknesses. She was small and fairly fast, so if she could assess her situation before the match even started, she could try to use that to her advantage and end things as quickly as possible. Still, she was here to learn, and one didn't learn without asking questions, so there was no shortage of those as she awkwardly went through the motions each and every time.

"Is my stance all right? Where should my hands be while I'm defending myself? You're not going to actually hit me hard, are you? I don't fancy a broken nose, and I'm not looking to hurt you. You know I'm only looking to defend myself, don't you? You'll stop if I ask you to, won't you? What should I be doing with my feet?"

On and on it went, and if she couldn't get herself used to any kind of bare-handed combat, Hermione was just going to have to get her hands on her own staff and start practicing a different sort of sparring, assuming that her mage friends wouldn't mind showing her how to use a staff in a less traditional sort of way.

The Baths

While she always did what she could to keep herself clean, Hermione had managed to avoid the baths for an extended period of time. It was easy enough when making water was one of the only spells she could still reliably do, and she'd been forced to get used to limited hygiene during the year she'd spent on the run. But now that she was actually involved in regular physical activity, she couldn't really make do with a quick wash or a mostly-clothed dip in the bath.

Though it always seemed like most of the people she would see down there relished their time in the water, Hermione had never exactly enjoyed communal baths. Still, she did happen to go down there while it was mostly empty, and there was no rule saying she had to be completely nude to get herself clean. She was a grown woman, and if she wanted to sit in a bath with her underwear on, she was surely entitled to it.

Besides, the hot water felt good on her sore muscles (she was getting muscles now; when did that happen?), and so it was easier for her to relax than she might have thought otherwise. So long as no one tried to engage her in conversation while their privates were less-than-private, she could almost enjoy soaking in there for a bit.

Library

The drawback to not having your own small, private, contained bath was that you couldn't read in the tub, and despite her newer hobbies, reading will always be Hermione's first love. While she might not be as much of a fixture in the library as she used to be upon her initial arrival, anyone looking for her could simply hang about the vicinity long enough and she would find her way back there before too long. These days, she mostly read for the various classes she was taking, but she still found the time to read one of the "lighter" books available in Skyhold's library. Sometimes, these books were written with a very marked biased, and whoever might be sitting close enough to the young rifter might be drawn into a heated discussion over said bias. It was all right, though; she usually kept her voice down, given that it was a library.

Wildcard!

Choose your own adventure!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hermione blinks slowly, trying to parse together what the Doctor is implying.

"You're saying that there's some sort of multi-versal website wherein you can read newspapers from any point in time and any place in the universe, and you just happened to remember a bit about Voldemort and Hogwarts?"

Incredulous though she might sound, she supposes those would be the two key factors that would stick out in someone's memory if they'd read about her world. Even so, she highly doubts the internet has gotten quite that advanced, especially when she still thinks of it as being attached to a desktop computer by a large wire and making the most horrible whining noises as it connects you to a handful of flashing, colorful webpages.

"Well, yes. In my universe, we call it the 'Galactic Hub'. Which I know would make it sound like it's just one galaxy, but it's not."

To be fair, that's how he got access to the Harry Potter books. But not really worth mentioning that bit. And yes, he did just spout that all off as if it made all the sense in the world.

He fired off another arrow. This time it was better.

"Apparently, teaching you has helped me..."

Hermione was about to ask how it can be called a Galactic Hub if it apparently encompassed more than one galaxy, but she decided against it. Heaven knew that her world had its own fair share of misnomers, both within the wizarding community and outside of it.

Though she was still confused and unsure how much of this to believe, she decided to let it go for now, eyes following his arrow as he released it. At least focusing on something she could see with her own eyes helped make the world make a bit more sense.

"Glad to hear it. Although I'm sure you'd have gotten to this point with a bit of practice on your end, if you're no stranger to archery."

He shrugged casually.

"Possibly. Faster when teaching someone else, though. And well, this is the first time in... a very long while... that I've tried it. You might even say I was a different man last time I tried to be good at it."

He'll just skip over the 'literally' part. He's billions of years old in this body and it's still 'new body new rules' at this point. Which is disappointing.

Usually, when people say something along the lines of "you might even say," there's something of an inside joke involved. Hermione's not sure how to take his comment; perhaps he's a shapeshifter or came into contact with something like polyjuice potion and had looked like a different person the last time he'd done archery. Or perhaps he'd simply gone under a different moniker. She highly doubts, after all, that "the Doctor" is his real name.

"Actual practice is the fastest way to learn - or re-learn - anything," she points out. "You can teach me all about theory until you're blue int he face, but that won't help you any if you don't stimulate your muscle memory."

He smirks at her point. Takes aim again and this time misses entirely. Not quite intentionally.

"Ah, see that would make sense if my muscles were the same. But they're not. The muscle memory that I have is from a different body."

His response is almost blatantly begging that she inquire further, and Hermione sees no point in curbing her curiosity. It will, after all, put an end to the mystery he seems to enjoy cultivating about himself.

"What do you mean, a different body? Are you a metamorphagus?"

He blows a raspberry.

"Hardly. We call it regeneration. A way to cheat death. Every cell in our bodies renews itself. But when that happens we physically change appearance as well."

He shrugs as he takes aim again. This time it was just to the right of the bullseye.

"I like to say 'new body; new rules' because that's pretty much how it ends up working."

Edited (to be fair, in the Doctor's case it is a bit of chance.) 2017-03-17 20:12 (UTC)

"... every cell?" Hermione asks incredulously.

She's seen people perform feats of magic here that she'd never thought possible. She'd encountered demons and walked through a world that had been crackling with more raw magical energy than she'd ever heard existing all in one place before. But somehow, she can still find herself occasionally surprised.

"Fingerprints, blood work, everything? So that means you can't die? Or that, when you do die, your body just reshapes itself? Why would you look like another person, though?"

"Every single one of them."

And there's a hint of... something... when he says that. Because, well regeneration hurts in so many ways.

"Oh, I can die... I think..." Over 230 billion times, but let's not dwell on horrid things. "It is capped at twelve times - thirteen bodies - because after that Time Lords would go a little wrong in the head. And I look different because when all the cells renew, it's rather... explosive. So, you end up with a new body."

He shrugs. He doesn't actually know why they do that. They just do.

Hermione's never heard of anything like what the Doctor describes, and as far as she knows, that shouldn't be possible. But then, he'd just described what she'd define as magic as little more than basic physics. Humans work very differently than, say, vampires or centaurs; perhaps the same can be said of these "Time Lords".

"Do you mean you have control over whether or not you regenerate upon death?" Hermione asks, morbidly curious. "If you can regenerate twelve times, but know what happens if you were to do so more than that, that's what that would imply. And what precisely do you mean, 'a little wrong in the head'?"

He nodded in reply to her first question. "My best friend died in my arms because he refused to regenerate. But the opposite is also true: even if we're too injured to regenerate, the cells keep trying. For us, dying properly can take days. So, it's important to not bury us too early."

He frowns a bit in confusion at her last question. "What does anyone mean when they say 'a little wrong in the head?' Mental faculties deteriorate. We live can live to be ten-thousand years old. We get a new body every time we regenerate. It would make anyone go wonky after awhile."

Talking about the Doctor's mortality - or lack thereof, as is the case - leaves a bad taste in Hermione's mouth, but that's entirely for personal reasons. She's seen what happens when a person tries to cheat death once; the idea of an entire species that has the ability to cheat death embedded into their very DNA doesn't really make it much cheerier.

So she doesn't comment on it, though she can't keep herself from awkwardly asking, "Then... after the twelfth regeneration, are you expected to just... give up? I'd understand why, of course, but given that the first instinct for any living creature is to ensure its own survival, I'd just find it difficult to understand how one wouldn't at least try, even knowing what might become of their sense if they attempt another regeneration."

"Give up? No... not really. As far as I know, unless something changes, we lose our ability to regenerate. We're allowed twelve. After that, we prepare for our death."

He shrugged. Something happened to him. He has no idea how many regenerations he has left. Nor how insane he might go in the process. It's a blessing and a curse.

"We're not immortal. Just exceptionally long lived. Even without regeneration, a Time Lord could live to be a thousand years old."

"... allowed?"

The confusion is clear on Hermione's face as he tries to explain, though it could simply be because she has no idea what to make of any of this. In her world, the only thing they have akin to "regeneration" is using Dark magic to prolong one's life with a Horcrux, and there are much more severe consequences for doing such a thing even once.

"But how would you know that thirteen regenerations might drive you mad unless other Time Lords have gone through such a thing? You could hypothesize, surely, but an exact number makes me think that this was a conclusion drawn from someone's experience or direct observation."

"Oh they did lots of experiments. Time Lord society developed and changed just like any other. You lot didn't just decide to be able to make fire one day, it happened through trial and error. We're just more scientific than most. And, well, we're old. Oldest species in my universe. So, we've had billions of years to get it right."

And wrong. All those resurrections during the Time War - wrong. He shakes his head to clear it and aims his arrow again. Not quite a bullseye, pretty close, and he's getting more consistent.

"But...."

Clearly, Hermione is the sort to beat a topic to death unless it's explained totally to her satisfaction. Especially when she knows she can't exactly read about that particular topic in a book.

"At least on Earth, the most primal instinct of any living creature is to survive. Even when gravely injured, we can't stop our bodies from automatically trying to heal themselves, regardless of the chances of survival. Are you saying that you have precise control of your body at a cellular level, to the point where you can and will stop a regeneration if you think it may be one too many?"

He chuckles, but there's no amusement in it. It's a wry and dry sound. Because that reminds him of what it was like.

"If we're too injured to regenerate and we still have regeneration energy inside of us, every single cell in our body will keep trying. Dying properly takes days. Sometime weeks. Unless we force ourselves to give in. I know of only a handful of Time Lords who accomplished that. But regeneration energy has been limited. So, there's enough for twelve regenerations. Thirteen bodies and then... no more. You simply don't have any more energy to use."

Unless a thing happens and you're granted more. But he'll not get into that right now.

"Limited? By whom? How? Unless you're... created instead of born, though I suppose that evolution could well have played a part in that but even so, evolution isn't always uniform across the board. There will always be exceptions, mutations, and-... oh."

While she might instinctively press on until receiving a satisfactory answer, Hermione is also well aware of tact, and of lines that shouldn't be crossed. Given that she's only just met the Doctor, this is probably an area of conversation that's surrounded by those sorts of lines, and she's gone ahead and barreled past them. At least she can admit as much, even if she's a bit sheepish while doing it.

"Sorry. This... probably isn't the cheeriest conversation to have with someone you've only just met. I apologize." After all, she certainly wouldn't want to have an in-depth conversation with a stranger about how humans die, and about why she's still alive, and about what may or may not happen post-death.

He chuckles softly at her self-realisation. He'll answer what he wants and leave the rest aside. Well, honestly, it had shifted away from death along time ago, in the Doctor's mind. But now they've covered about everything, yes?

"Like everything with my people, it was bread into us. Of course, when we started to use Looms, that all became much easier. But, procreation is honestly the last thing I want to talk about when I'm at an archery."

But he has been steadily improving with each shot he took. Finally, with the past three shots, he was consistently hitting the bullseye.

Part of Hermione wants to ask what Looms are, but when the Doctor implies they're part of how his people procreate, she backs off immediately, stifling a small blush. Really, that's just about the last thing she'd want to discuss with someone who looks as though he could be her grandfather, or at least her father's older brother. Best to just drop the subject before she finds herself unable to look him in the eye ever again.

Instead, she clears her throat and looks up, watching his more recent shot. "You're very good," she notes, a small hint of embarrassed strain still coloring her voice. "I'm impressed."

He wouldn't be bothered as long as it stayed in the realms of science. But he'd rather not explain it, so this works well.

"I've had lots of practice. Just not in this body. Until now. It's easier to retrain a new body than it is to start from scratch."

She really shouldn't be impressed in his opinion. Impressive was his ability to teach her.

While Hermione likes to think of herself as a mature adult, the fact of the matter is that she'd been repressed for so much of her life that talking about anything that even tangentially has to do with procreation would still leave her stammering foolishly. It's best to avoid that sort of talk altogether.

After a moment of silent pondering, she asks, "Is it muscle memory, then? Because that seems a bit questionable when, if I'm understanding you correctly, a new body would mean entirely new muscles."

"Right you are! It's not muscle memory. But this is my twelfth body, ~~well, thirteenth, but that one didn't count~~ So, I'm used to retraining myself. In this case, I have the knowledge, I just need to relearn how to apply it. That whole centre of gravity thing that we talked about."

But he's impressed that she picked up on that so quickly. It was a good thing.

Edited (typo) 2017-04-13 21:56 (UTC)

"So it's... memory. Simple, conscious memory that you're trying to apply to a body that can go through the motions but is just foreign enough for you that you're relearning certain aspects of it."

It doesn't make much sense to her at first, but as she thinks about it, she softly realizes, "I suppose I can understand that. When I use Polyjuice Potion to change my appearance, I can still remember how to walk; it's just disorienting at first, because I'm of a different height and stature than I'm used to."

You'll fight and you'll make it through

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