She's beautiful. More so than she's ever been, more so than she'll ever be, coming to terms with the horror that is herself. She shakes; she wails; she weeps, she very nearly doubles over and empties her stomach, too. Of course she lost herself in the moment. What did she expect, shifting into such a beast? A kill without consequences, one clean slice and it's over?
She is still young. She is still foolish. And that is why Gilgamesh will never love her.
But you'd never know with the way he closes the gap and kneels to her side, draws a handkerchief from his pocket and raises it to her beautiful face dripping all in red. Without a further word on the matter, he dabs all the evidence dry. Wipes it off, wipes her free of that burden except not really. She ripped her apart, she destroyed her, and now she learned of true consequences, of that terrible burden associated with taking another life.
When he's done, he draws her close, stains be damned, and soothes her with quiet sounds, hushed noises.
"You're going to live, Hermione. You're going to live, and so shall he. Did you forget already? The words I gave you on the day, the will that beats so strongly inside you."
To a clean cheek he presses his hand. Into her hair warm fingers go, offering grip and stability and strength where hers has failed. "You are the magus that faces the world and its demons without fear. You are living. You are well. And you did what was necessary to survive in that world."
That last phrase he emphasizes in particular: you did what was necessary. She'll have nightmares for some time to come, but he can at least plant the seed of rationality within her mind, if only so he gets more glimpses of this beauty in the future.
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She is still young. She is still foolish. And that is why Gilgamesh will never love her.
But you'd never know with the way he closes the gap and kneels to her side, draws a handkerchief from his pocket and raises it to her beautiful face dripping all in red. Without a further word on the matter, he dabs all the evidence dry. Wipes it off, wipes her free of that burden except not really. She ripped her apart, she destroyed her, and now she learned of true consequences, of that terrible burden associated with taking another life.
When he's done, he draws her close, stains be damned, and soothes her with quiet sounds, hushed noises.
"You're going to live, Hermione. You're going to live, and so shall he. Did you forget already? The words I gave you on the day, the will that beats so strongly inside you."
To a clean cheek he presses his hand. Into her hair warm fingers go, offering grip and stability and strength where hers has failed. "You are the magus that faces the world and its demons without fear. You are living. You are well. And you did what was necessary to survive in that world."
That last phrase he emphasizes in particular: you did what was necessary. She'll have nightmares for some time to come, but he can at least plant the seed of rationality within her mind, if only so he gets more glimpses of this beauty in the future.