faderift | Our aspirations are wrapped up in books

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Our aspirations are wrapped up in books

WHO: Hermione Granger and Open!
WHAT: There's a new ~~witch~~ mage wandering around Skyhold. Come say hello?
WHEN: Backdated to her arrival near the end of Guardian and onward throughout Drakonis.
WHERE: ~~The library.~~ All over Skyhold. ~~But mostly its library.~~
NOTES: Feel free to run into her pretty much anywhere, or have her run into you. And be prepared for all the questions about your character and Thedas/their homeworld and everything in between.

If not for the fact that Hermione had spent so many of her formative years in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Skyhold might have been overwhelming

As it was, the sprawling fortress was a little hard to get used to, since the academic environment that had given Hogwarts some sense of structure amidst the chaos wasn't present here. There was a library, thankfully, and she spent much of her time there, though it was so small that she was certain she'd end up reading every book in there in two weeks' time if she didn't actually go out and explore the rest of her surroundings.

And so every so often, she pried herself away from the cold little corner she'd set aside for herself and wander the rest of the area, though granted, she more often than not was carrying at least one book with her. Usually it was one of the books that had survived the trip through the Fade; anyone who might spot her in the garden or tavern or a safe distance away from the sparring going on in the training grounds might notice her engrossed in such unfamiliar titles as Hogwarts, A History or occasionally digging through Spellman's Syllabary in the vain hope of finding recognizable runes on various inscriptions throughout Skyhold.

After all, just because she was endlessly fascinated by all the new people and cultures and history and magic, it didn't mean she didn't occasionally need a bittersweet reminder of home. Especially when her other major reminder was her wand, which - despite the fact that she'd taken to finding the most solitary places she could find and practicing with it harder than she ever had the night before an exam - still wasn't behaving properly at all. Apologies to those of you who end up slipping on some wayward ice or getting sprayed with pebbles from a spell gone wrong.

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Resistance. That just made it sound as though this warlord had already acquired control, and people were still trying to fight back. It wasn't a comforting thought, but even Voldemort had nearly managed to come out on top, to the point where his Death Eaters were running Hogwarts and openly torturing students.

That last comment, though, was where the inward comparisons ended. "And do you have people figuring out the exact odds of such a thing?" Because, while she might not say it, those people might be better put to work actually attempting to fix the problem rather than working out the odds.

"Oh, no," Ariadne said, shaking her head. "I did that myself."

Said without the slightest hint of humor or irony.

But Ariadne didn't like talking about somber things. Especially when they were terribly far away, so far that she couldn't help. There was no point in lamenting that. For now, she could only try to help the people here in Skyhold.

"Thedas is on the brink of civil strife too. A lot of people are afraid of the native mages."

Hermione blinked, wondering if she'd just heard the punchline of a joke that had fallen a little flat. But that didn't seem to be the case, so she offered a brief, uncertain smile before focusing on the bit that still made a little bit of sense.

"So I've heard. Some people aren't exactly fond of non-natives who can do magic, apparently. But there has to be a way to set things right; there's no reason for so many mages to suffer or for non-mages to live in fear."

"That's so true," Ariadne said, nodding with enthusiasm. "People just get afraid of the things they don't understand. Or the things that don't move like them or sound like them or look like them."

Things that had green skin and could fly over the canopies on black wings.

Ariadne felt the scars on her back itch and tingle at the memory.

"I'm so glad you agree," she continued. "You seem terribly enlightened!"

"I wouldn't say I'm enlightened," Hermione remarked with a soft chuckle. "At least, I wouldn't want to say that. I'd like to think that most people would be able to think this way, if only they could allow themselves to look beyond stereotypes."

Of course, given that the stereotypes thing seemed to be common between worlds, maybe she was a bit on the enlightened side. That was a bit depressing to think about, in all honesty.

"Oh, everyone is able to," Ariadne replied. "But they get taught not to when they're very little. It's only the truly enlightened that don't learn it. Or aren't taught it in the first place."

She smiled a smile at Hermione. One that said, for better or for worse, Hermione was now her friend.

Poor Hermione.

"If you're a witch and you have magic, can you show me a spell? I'm sure it must be very different from the kind of magic the Elves back home use."

Hermione hesitated at that request before explaining, "I'm not sure if that would be a good idea, for the sake of my pride and possibly your safety."

Realizing how melodramatic that sounded, she automatically continued with, "My magic isn't dangerous, per se, but it hasn't been behaving as it should. I think I've managed to put together some of the simple spells, such as very basic Shield Charms and such, but I can't say I've perfected much else other than offensive and defensive charms for the sake of surviving another demons attack. And a Bluebell Flame, I suppose, though I'm a little reluctant to try it without something to keep it contained, just in case it doesn't come out the way it should."

Even as she said it, though, she was looking around, either for something that she could use as a container or at least little pieces of kindling she could use so she isn't simply setting the grass on fire.

Fire had made Ariadne a little nervous since she was a little girl. But she liked bluebells, so she was immediately curious. Even if warily so.

"Do all of your spells have such elaborate names?" she asked. "Shield Charms and Bluebell Flames? Is that a part of the spell itself?"

Questions. Always questions.

"Is that... elaborate?" Hermione asked, not sure what to make of that. "Most spells require a brief incantation of one or two words, but they all have to be called something, or else how do you know what spell to ask about?"

Absently gathering together a little pile of dried twigs and leaves, she explained, "Bluebell Flames are just called that because of their blue color. They're also known as Cold Fire, since they don't burn. Well, not people, anyway. Not if they're done right."

Being very careful about it, she got out her wand and slowly murmured the incantation, careful to keep the tip of her wand pointed towards the makeshift kindling. She was pleasantly surprised to see the familiar spurt of blue as it moved from wand to twigs, a little fire beginning to burn.

"You can feel heat radiating off of it, if you hold your hand above it. But you can also hold it in your hand without hurting yourself." Slowly, she poked a finger at one of the flames, only to find that it was a bit hotter than she was used to. "Well. Like I said, if they're done right. It looks like this one might be a bit too hot for that."

Her eyes grew wide as coins as she watched the spell unfold before her eyes. It was more like a flower than just the color. The flames looked like petals. It was hard to believe that something so beautiful could be a force of so much destruction. But cold fire?

It would have been a mercy to her family.

Ignoring Hermione's caution, she reached out to gingerly poke at the flame herself. And she did nothing to stifle the gasp of surprise. "By the gods," she whispered.

Hermione tensed up when she gasped, immediately asking, "Did you hurt yourself?" She didn't look hurt, and she shouldn't be hurt, but with all of her spells acting in so many bizarre ways recently, she couldn't take anything for granted.

"Healing charms still seem to work the same, if you need them."

"Oh! No!" she cried, turning to look at Hermione. "I'm fine. Just surprised." Her expression turned horribly abashed. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. I didn't mean to."

She curled her fingers up and pulled them far from the flame, lowering her eyes.

"I've never seen cold fire before. I could never have imagined..."

Relaxing, Hermione managed a small smile as she tells her, "It's all right. I just wouldn't have wanted you getting hurt. Enough people here seem wary of what magic can do, after all, so I didn't need to have all this go horribly awry and set people talking."

Nodding, she placed a hand just over the flame, explaining, "It still gives off its own heat, so it's very useful when you're out camping." She'd learned that from experience. Lots and lots of experience.

Ariadne glanced up from beneath her eyelashes, expression somewhat quizzical. "What do you mean, exactly?" she asked. "Camping? Is that like being part of a caravan?"

Which sounded all kinds of exciting. But she was careful to guard her enthusiasm until she understood.

"Oh... you don't have camping where you're from?" She supposed that made sense; if she'd come from a world that didn't really have certain modern comforts, them what she knew of as camping was just living.

"It's when you pack up a few bare essentials and live out in the wilderness for a while. People do it as sport, usually, unless of course they don't have a proper house and they just... live outside."

That sounded very much like the whole of Ariadne's childhood. "Everyone in the kingdom I was born in lived outside," she said. "All except for the highest-ranking nobles and their servants, I suppose. I didn't even know that people slept in beds until I was ten and moved to another land."

It had been quite the experience, half hysterical, half depressing.

All an adventure, at the very least.

"It's a curious sounding sport. Do you do it often?"

Hermione could only stare for a moment. One of the things she'd missed most while out camping with Harry and Ron had been having a proper bed to rest her head in, and an actual roof to keep the rain and snow from making life absolutely miserable. And she'd had a rather comfortable tent, too, so she could only imagine what it might be like to live at the mercy of the elements for an extended period of time.

"Not if I don't have to, no. But in all fairness, I have some negative associations with it now. I wasn't much for it before, but I'd at least been willing to do it without complaint."

Now, though? Good luck getting her into a tent, Inquisition. She'd rather stay back at Skyhold until she could find a way back home.

Her pulse was strange. Not lying, exactly. But there was something off. And a wisp of...adrenaline? Magical Humans always had confusing scents.

Ariadne tilted her head, birdlike and curious. "What do you mean by 'negative associations?'" she asked.

She tried to ask it gently.

Ah. Tactfully skirting an issue was a hit or miss with many people here. It seemed to be a miss, in this instance.

"I spent most of last year camping in the woods because I couldn't go home," she stated steadily. "War was tearing the magical community apart, and for a variety of reasons, it was especially dangerous for me and my two best friends. So we took off and hid as best as we could while we tried to figure out how to put a stop to the madness around us."

Shrugging, she offered a mirthless smile as she concluded, "No one can come away from a year of that without having some biases against tents and campfires."

Ariadne's expression dissolved into nothing but pure, unadulterated sympathy. If anyone could understand hiding in the trees to escape certain doom, it was a former ten-year-old child, who'd listened to her family burn from the canopy of Deleo's forest.

She reached out to put a hand on Hermione's elbow, giving her a gentle, encouraging squeeze. "I'm so, so sorry," she said. "That sounds unimaginably horrible."

Well, not unimaginably. Not exactly...

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Wan smile still on her face, Hermione once again attempts to simply shrug it off, careful not to dislodge that hand at her elbow.

"It's all right. I mean, no, it's not all right, but it's in the past, and everything turned out... not as terribly as it could have. So long as I continue to have the option of never doing that again, it's not so horrible a memory to have. At least it keeps me grateful for the shelter I do have... such as it is in Skyhold."

"Such as it is," Ariadne repeated with a slight nod. It was very much the same was the refugee camps back home. Just as exhausted and dirty and haphazard. But she thought there was more hope here. And that was important too.

Without hope, what did they have?

"Have you found a place to stay?" she asked. "If not, I'm sure my new sister would take you in. Just as long as you don't mind cats."

"I've been staying at the-...."

Hermione trails off before she can mention that she's been staying at the library or that she enjoys cats, frowning just slightly. "I'm sorry, 'new sister'? What do you mean?"

Her lips curled slightly into an impish grin. "I meant Katniss Everdeen," she replied. "She's a native here and a member of the Inquisition and she's wonderful. She adopted me into her family. It's a small family. But it feels nice to have a place to fit in. And Katniss is fantastic."

She bounced a little, as if to drive the point home.

"There's an old house not far from here where she lives with her cat, Buttercup. It was built around a tree, so it's a whole lot more stable than it looks."

"Oh." She should have known it couldn't be anything literal, and she doubted that any place in Thedas had a legitimate in-depth adoption process that include stipulations for adopting a rifter, but sometimes Hermione could be a little to literal for her own good.

"Is that where you live? You certainly seem to be comfortable around trees."

Our aspirations are wrapped up in books

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