I don't suffer his poetry, I enjoy it. It's quite charming.
[ It's strange, she thinks, that they're trying to act as if nothing had happened between them, as if he hadn't hurt her - even if, now, she thinks that she can't really blame him. He had seen the best parts of her, the things that had made her strong and good enough to help at Hogwarts and at Harry's side, and she supposes it's only right that he saw that and picked up on it and wanted to have it. She knows the Drabwurld and as much as it hurt, and stung, she knows that power is everything.
Accepting that is hard. She wants there to be more than just a race for power, a race to push and fight to end a war that she's somehow in the middle of, rising up as a part leader, but she knows that right now things are more than just fighting because it's the right thing to do. It's fighting because there's no other option and that's hard, it's incredibly hard, and she's still not sure how to rationalise that in her head. The blood on her hands feels like a literal stain and she can't do anything to get rid of it.
This is what war does to people and, here, in the Drabwurld, there's nothing she can do to avoid that. She just has to keep trying to keep the people she loves safe.
Hermione smiles at the servants and watches as they leave, a little concerned as her eyes flick over them - and she's right to be concerned, she thinks, as she steps inside and sees the room. It's easy to put the pieces together and she hesitates before she turns back to look at Gilgamesh, a mixture of distrust and confusion prickling over her. ]
I'd like to think that it doesn't have to be that way. That we shouldn't have to live just to fight. What about friendship, and love, those things? They should be important too, shouldn't they? Even for a Servant, even if you don't think you deserve it. But I suppose that it's not the case for everyone, that things aren't so simple. You can't just tick boxes of feelings and make them happen.
[ She shakes her head. She's not naive enough to believe that it's going to be that simple and she hasn't been for years. It reminds her of Voldemort, that had been so without love and so tainted that it made everything he touched just as dark, his inability to love and be happy souring him so desperately. She doesn't want to see that happen to someone she knows. ]
It would be nice to be able to protect people so easily, but I'm sure it comes at a cost.
no subject
[ It's strange, she thinks, that they're trying to act as if nothing had happened between them, as if he hadn't hurt her - even if, now, she thinks that she can't really blame him. He had seen the best parts of her, the things that had made her strong and good enough to help at Hogwarts and at Harry's side, and she supposes it's only right that he saw that and picked up on it and wanted to have it. She knows the Drabwurld and as much as it hurt, and stung, she knows that power is everything.
Accepting that is hard. She wants there to be more than just a race for power, a race to push and fight to end a war that she's somehow in the middle of, rising up as a part leader, but she knows that right now things are more than just fighting because it's the right thing to do. It's fighting because there's no other option and that's hard, it's incredibly hard, and she's still not sure how to rationalise that in her head. The blood on her hands feels like a literal stain and she can't do anything to get rid of it.
This is what war does to people and, here, in the Drabwurld, there's nothing she can do to avoid that. She just has to keep trying to keep the people she loves safe.
Hermione smiles at the servants and watches as they leave, a little concerned as her eyes flick over them - and she's right to be concerned, she thinks, as she steps inside and sees the room. It's easy to put the pieces together and she hesitates before she turns back to look at Gilgamesh, a mixture of distrust and confusion prickling over her. ]
I'd like to think that it doesn't have to be that way. That we shouldn't have to live just to fight. What about friendship, and love, those things? They should be important too, shouldn't they? Even for a Servant, even if you don't think you deserve it. But I suppose that it's not the case for everyone, that things aren't so simple. You can't just tick boxes of feelings and make them happen.
[ She shakes her head. She's not naive enough to believe that it's going to be that simple and she hasn't been for years. It reminds her of Voldemort, that had been so without love and so tainted that it made everything he touched just as dark, his inability to love and be happy souring him so desperately. She doesn't want to see that happen to someone she knows. ]
It would be nice to be able to protect people so easily, but I'm sure it comes at a cost.
[ And - well, here we are. ]
You promised me tea.