Hermione had been about to reply to Dorian, about to go back to his side and very gently tell him thank you but no, thank you, she's sure Gilgamesh would rather have his company, when he starts. It all comes out at as a rush, something exploding from inside Gilgamesh, and she stares for a second, her eyes widening for a little, here and there, before she lifts a hand and covers her mouth.
She can't laugh. No, she can't, surely, it would be so rude, but at the same time...
The laughter bubbles out of her, her hands smothering it as best as she can, her eyes moving between Gilgamesh and Dorian before she has to turn her head away so she can fight it. She isn't even angry, since the idea of it is all so ridiculous - as if Hermione Granger would do anything like that, as if she would poison anyone or set a patronus on someone, as if her magic, her lion, could even do that to him.
When she gets herself under control she moves, pretending that her turning away had only been to sort out the fastening on her cloak, adjusting the weight of her rapier at her side before she steps forward, holds her head high. She isn't, in this moment, the shy creature she'd been up to now; she is the Marchioness, the Protectress, and she just gives Gilgamesh a wry smile.
"It's very nice to see what you really think of me," she says, finally. "It's incredible that you think that I'm the type of person to poison you, to laugh at you while you're hurt. If you remember, Gilgamesh, I was the one that sat with you while you were upset. You are the person that tried to use me, the person that tried to use my position to hurt me, to make me your plaything, and just because I won't stand for it you get angry with me? I won't and I don't care what you say about me, but don't try to use Dorian's feelings as some kind of tool."
She glances at her friend before she swallows, her hands on her hips.
"I am not here to be cute. I am not here to pander to you, to pout or do anything, especially not with a king that doesn't have any kind of crown. You're not my king, Gilgamesh, and you are not my ruler. I am yours, I am Marchioness of this Citadel and I am Dorian's friend, before all of that. I am a witch, I am a sorceress, and I am proud of that and nothing you can say will change that, but it's very cute that you think that you throwing a fit is going to make a difference."
Breathing out, she hesitates before she looks over at Dorian, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
"Apparently, I don't love you as much as he does, so would you like me to give you a little space? It's your choice, Dorian, and I don't intend to make it for you."
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She can't laugh. No, she can't, surely, it would be so rude, but at the same time...
The laughter bubbles out of her, her hands smothering it as best as she can, her eyes moving between Gilgamesh and Dorian before she has to turn her head away so she can fight it. She isn't even angry, since the idea of it is all so ridiculous - as if Hermione Granger would do anything like that, as if she would poison anyone or set a patronus on someone, as if her magic, her lion, could even do that to him.
When she gets herself under control she moves, pretending that her turning away had only been to sort out the fastening on her cloak, adjusting the weight of her rapier at her side before she steps forward, holds her head high. She isn't, in this moment, the shy creature she'd been up to now; she is the Marchioness, the Protectress, and she just gives Gilgamesh a wry smile.
"It's very nice to see what you really think of me," she says, finally. "It's incredible that you think that I'm the type of person to poison you, to laugh at you while you're hurt. If you remember, Gilgamesh, I was the one that sat with you while you were upset. You are the person that tried to use me, the person that tried to use my position to hurt me, to make me your plaything, and just because I won't stand for it you get angry with me? I won't and I don't care what you say about me, but don't try to use Dorian's feelings as some kind of tool."
She glances at her friend before she swallows, her hands on her hips.
"I am not here to be cute. I am not here to pander to you, to pout or do anything, especially not with a king that doesn't have any kind of crown. You're not my king, Gilgamesh, and you are not my ruler. I am yours, I am Marchioness of this Citadel and I am Dorian's friend, before all of that. I am a witch, I am a sorceress, and I am proud of that and nothing you can say will change that, but it's very cute that you think that you throwing a fit is going to make a difference."
Breathing out, she hesitates before she looks over at Dorian, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
"Apparently, I don't love you as much as he does, so would you like me to give you a little space? It's your choice, Dorian, and I don't intend to make it for you."