Hermione knows about their bond, of course, but the accusation doesn't do anything to turn her mind away from Dorian. How could he have called for anyone when there was barely any time to think? She hadn't had a second to try and use her compass, her magic taken from her to block them from just skipping away from the danger. If it hadn't been for the arrow embedded in her none of this would have happened - if the world wasn't so aware of what her powers were...
Slowly, oh so slowly, her eyes lift to look at him and she nods, once, shaken. His hands are warm against her own, his face so earnest and careful, but he is so much calmer than she is. She's seen death, she's come face to face with it before, but there's such a difference between seeing someone die and being the reason why they're dead that it's shaken her to her core, breaking her from the inside out. It's going to take a very long time for her to be able to close her eyes without seeing the woman's body or the flickering echo of Adela's body in the air.
"Okay," she nods her head, slowly. "I don't know how long it will be before my magic comes back. We're going to have to - to investigate this, Dorian, the poison, if it can hurt us..." If it can take her magic, suffocate it, what other things might there be? Would there be something that could hurt her friends, damage them, rip it away from them? She refuses to allow that, the violent part of her anger still blossoming under the blanket of her fear.
Slowly, her gaze turns to Gilgamesh and she softens, barely, just a hint, relaxing in the knowledge that she is safe between the two of them - or, really, she believes she is.
"Thank you for coming, Gilgamesh. For..." And she turns her head away. For cleaning her face of the blood, for standing at her side, for holding her as they waited for Dorian to wake up. Small kindnesses she didn't expect nor deserve in the wake of the horror of what she'd done. Shifting, she moves closer and leans against Dorian (they're both covered in blood, it's not going to make him any messier), resisting the urge to close her eyes and see the crime all over again.
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Slowly, oh so slowly, her eyes lift to look at him and she nods, once, shaken. His hands are warm against her own, his face so earnest and careful, but he is so much calmer than she is. She's seen death, she's come face to face with it before, but there's such a difference between seeing someone die and being the reason why they're dead that it's shaken her to her core, breaking her from the inside out. It's going to take a very long time for her to be able to close her eyes without seeing the woman's body or the flickering echo of Adela's body in the air.
"Okay," she nods her head, slowly. "I don't know how long it will be before my magic comes back. We're going to have to - to investigate this, Dorian, the poison, if it can hurt us..." If it can take her magic, suffocate it, what other things might there be? Would there be something that could hurt her friends, damage them, rip it away from them? She refuses to allow that, the violent part of her anger still blossoming under the blanket of her fear.
Slowly, her gaze turns to Gilgamesh and she softens, barely, just a hint, relaxing in the knowledge that she is safe between the two of them - or, really, she believes she is.
"Thank you for coming, Gilgamesh. For..." And she turns her head away. For cleaning her face of the blood, for standing at her side, for holding her as they waited for Dorian to wake up. Small kindnesses she didn't expect nor deserve in the wake of the horror of what she'd done. Shifting, she moves closer and leans against Dorian (they're both covered in blood, it's not going to make him any messier), resisting the urge to close her eyes and see the crime all over again.