[ She's almost teasing now as she shakes her head, moving to wrap her arms around him again and squeeze, gentle, almost tender in the way that she draws him back against her. Kisses aren't unfamiliar to her, especially considering how close she is to Dorian himself, and she shifts up to hold him a little tighter and close her eyes, just embracing him and letting herself give Gilgamesh this. It's not a gift, it's just natural, a part of their friendship a part of what she is offering him.
He isn't sorry, she's sure of that. He had played a game and he hadn't come up with the outcome he'd wanted, and she can accept that. The reasons he had for wanting her are bleak and personal, selfish in the same way parts of human nature can be... But she has to remind herself that he's not entirely human. He's not just like her. Her hand lifts and curls into the hair at the back of his head, holding him in place before she breathes out and lets herself smile.
Good and bad, right and wrong, it's twisted and strange and confusing inside of her. It's not like she can wave her wand and make him tell her who he really is - at least, not now, not when she has something that's disrupting her potions here. It's only when she leans back and looks at him again that she forces her feelings away, her strange insecurity and her discontent shrugged to the back of her mind so she can look at him. ]
This is better. I don't think you can say anything else better than this, I promise. You've - I'm just Hermione. You don't have to try.
[ Because it's true. All she's ever wanted from her friends is for them to be themselves, to be happy and safe. It's not always possible here, but at least she can try to do it - she can try to bridge the gaps of trust and uncertainty between the people she loves. All they have to do is be there. ]
no subject
[ She's almost teasing now as she shakes her head, moving to wrap her arms around him again and squeeze, gentle, almost tender in the way that she draws him back against her. Kisses aren't unfamiliar to her, especially considering how close she is to Dorian himself, and she shifts up to hold him a little tighter and close her eyes, just embracing him and letting herself give Gilgamesh this. It's not a gift, it's just natural, a part of their friendship a part of what she is offering him.
He isn't sorry, she's sure of that. He had played a game and he hadn't come up with the outcome he'd wanted, and she can accept that. The reasons he had for wanting her are bleak and personal, selfish in the same way parts of human nature can be... But she has to remind herself that he's not entirely human. He's not just like her. Her hand lifts and curls into the hair at the back of his head, holding him in place before she breathes out and lets herself smile.
Good and bad, right and wrong, it's twisted and strange and confusing inside of her. It's not like she can wave her wand and make him tell her who he really is - at least, not now, not when she has something that's disrupting her potions here. It's only when she leans back and looks at him again that she forces her feelings away, her strange insecurity and her discontent shrugged to the back of her mind so she can look at him. ]
This is better. I don't think you can say anything else better than this, I promise. You've - I'm just Hermione. You don't have to try.
[ Because it's true. All she's ever wanted from her friends is for them to be themselves, to be happy and safe. It's not always possible here, but at least she can try to do it - she can try to bridge the gaps of trust and uncertainty between the people she loves. All they have to do is be there. ]