[ Hermione has somewhat recovered from the battle now, the weight of what had happened at Caer Scima still a solid one on her shoulders. Her hair has grown back a little, thanks to a bit of magic, and things are beginning to get fixed around her, but it doesn't feel the same. All the trust she had in people feels like it's wilted and faded away and she isn't entirely sure what direction to turn or what to do.
The first thing is, of course, to make sure that other places are safe, just like she promised Waver. It's far too easy to apparate over and go through to check all the places she can before she gets in contact with him to let him know it's safe and arrange a moment to talk. He doesn't know where her house is, not many people do, so instead she goes down the pathway they had met on last time, Padfoot walking along at her side.
She knows that Waver knows about her involvement with the sigils, she knows that he's close to Harry just like she knows that he'll know who exactly was behind the one that the High King had used. Her panic rushes through her and she breathes out, forcing herself to act calm as she settles to wait. Padfoot nuzzles at her hand and she breaths out, relaxing before she smiles softly. At least she has him to make sure that she isn't panicking herself into insanity. ]
[Waver had learned a little of the Barrel's fate through the words of others. Alice had been wise enough to use the building as a field hospital, and so it had been spared any sort of destruction. That was a blessing in and of itself, knowing that the place hadn't just survived but been put to the best possible use in light of the conflict.
It had also given him an idea, based on a conversation with Thrall. Handing the reins of the place over to him would enable a better information flow, the building would be in good hands, and the Barrel's mission could continue in its original home, even if the name was to be different. A matter of paperwork now, plain and simple.
But first, Hermione. He wanted to get her perspective on telling those who had evacuated the village to come back home, ultimately. The sigil matter was secondary, if only because Waver suspected that she was raking herself over coals for what had happened. It'd be hard not to.
So, when he approaches her on the path, it's with good cheer, his red coat buttoned up, the rest of him trying to hide in the scarf. It's bitterly cold, and he has no love for the weather right now.]
[ Things weren't simple any more. Once, it had been easy to be here in the Drabworld; she had done what she had been told, she had earned a place here and she had thought she was really okay in trusting the monarchs, in trusting her friends. The blazing feeling of betrayal sits on her like an ache in her chest and she doesn't want to think about it, no more than she wants to think about the horrific pictures of Caer Scima that seem emblazened on the back of her eyelids.
Being in Nimh Gleanne is easier, at least, considering. It's as neutral as anywhere is going to get and she can bury herself in her house, in the ideas she has, in the company of the pets she has; Crookshanks and Padfoot are always there to lick at her hands or curl up on her chest if they think their mistress is being at all too solemn and sad and they refuse to deal with it. She's glad to see it; it's good to be forced out of her habit over over-thinking.
Her attention is on Waver, now, though, and she brightens, watching with an amused little smile at how wrapped up he is. She's got her scarf and her hat on, Padfoot still nuzzling at her side, but his wings flutter when he spots the newcomer and he darts over to inspect him quickly. ]
You look like you're in need of a bit of hot chocolate, Waver.
[ Things have been changing and Hermione is getting worried; the start of things getting worse seems to have begun properly and she's scared that she might end up doing more harm than good, doing more damage than she might have done if she were doing anything else. She's a Sorceress of Caer Glaem, she's a witch and she is smart and powerful but even she has her limits and she thinks she might be about to meet them.
At least there's one thing she can focus on; the magic.
She's poured over Dorian's notes, learned the runes and the magic, she's spent time in Redgate and she's found out all the more thanks to Kaldur and the information he had given her. She's prepared to start things that, maybe, she should have done a long time ago but something tells her that it might not be a good idea to do it alone -- it's not a good idea to not have support, not with everything going on, and magic wise? The first person that comes to mind is Dorian Gray.
She asks a faerie to send him a message before she goes, the Tome she had been given as a boon sitting in front of her, nervous making her a little cautious. What she is asking is a lot, even for their tentative and rather wonderful friendship, and she's determined to be careful with it. ]
[Dorian arrives promptly. He would never be late for a missive from Hermione. Although things are quieter in these months, in the light of all that has come before, Dorian cannot fool himself into believing that the war will not become hot again, will not become worse. Violence is coming to them all.
All the more reason to stand by his friends.
When he steps into the workroom, his smile softens at the way she holds herself. It is clear he isn't the only one marred by dark thoughts of dark hours.] Miss Granger? [He matches his voice to his smile and approaches her.] I received your message. But tell me, how do you fare?
Mr Gray! [ The formality lingers, even with the fact that she and Dorian are actually friends, now, beginning to be quite good ones, and she offers him a bright smile. She feels a connection to him, considering - they've studied together, shared notes, and she knows she has something to ask him that might be a bit of a burden to him, even now.
A hug may not be the best thing but she steps forward, almost embracing him before she stops herself and offers her hand instead.
At least they have their friends in these times and she adjusts, hoping they can ignore the pressure of war around their shoulders. ] I'm very good, thank you. Things are a bit quiet, aren't they? Please, sit down, I made us some tea if you'd like some.
[ their arrival is heralded by a whoosh of green fire on the hearth and rizhao tearing through the rooms, calling out for hermione. "miney! miney, where are you?"
mako's following, of course, with a box of seedlings carefully balanced in his arms. ]
[ Hermione brightens up when she hears the rush of the fire, putting down her potions book and moving the clamber up the stairs without hesitation. She's quick to drop to her knees as soon as she sees Rizhao, opening her arms. ]
I am right here.
[ And she gives Mako a bright smile, just so he feels included. ]
[ rizhao doesn't waste a minute crashing into hermione with the best bear hug she can muster, being a small child, dragonlet-status notwithstanding. "i missed you, miney!" (never mind we saw you three days ago.) "can we make dinner? daddy will make noodles. i can make the eggs!"
RIZHAO YOU SILLY its like two pm. dinner isn't that early. ]
[ The month opens with Hermione moving some things from her townhouse to the White Citedel; it takes a few trips, even with her beaded back, with rugs and blankets she wants to use to make her rooms her own being carried with levitation magic. She is always accompanied by Padfoot (the Second) and on her final trip she brings a cat with her, who stalks around the halls before he crawls into her room.
As the month goes on, however, Hermione can be found rushing around the Citadel, popping in and out with information for anyone that might want help dealing with the frost that's overtaken the Drabworld. She can't offer much, but anyone that ask can benefit from an everlasting flame that can be used to defrost people, as well as a hand to teleport over to where the worst damage is, if asked.
Any other times, Hermione can be found in the library, in the outskirts of the Citadel or wandering around Nimh Gleanne! ]
[In all the rush after the attack, Pod had gotten distracted, but the cold and frost rekindles her worries and reminds her that she has so much to tell Hermione, and should also make sure she's okay and doesn't need anything. Her breath fogs up the air around her and the locket itself, but at least she can still use it.]
Hermione! Hello. There's so much that's happened; are you well? Especially with this accursed cold.
[She doesn't want to linger if Hermione might need her help in some way, so she ends it there for now. If Hermione is well, she can describe what she's found.]
[ Hermione, who has been running around herself, a little lost in all the insanity of everything happening, brightens when she hears from Pod, taking a moment to herself so they can talk. ]
I'm fine, thank you - are you? I'm trying to fix the cold as much as I can but there's only so much a fire spell can do... We don't want to burn them, that would be ridiculous.
[ Throughout the month Hermione will be again travelling through the Citadel, Nimh Gleanne and the outskirts of Caer Glaem, though she will spend the final days in Redgate, keeping an eye on any aid and caravans that come through. She begins to make it known that she is officially a Marquis of the Citadel, formalising herself as Hermione Granger, Marchioness of the White Citadel and Sorceress and Protectress of Caer Glaem.
When the harp music begins Hermione spends a lot of time in the library, researching what it might mean and what effect it is having on people - and if she's a little more snappish and frustrated then she blames it on the rush of everything happening all at once, the music in her ears a distant din before she puts the pieces together; she's had experience with dreams before and focusing on her own to find and destroy the harp isn't easy, but she works on it as much as she can.
The opening of the training ground in Caer Glaem has Hermione working on her archery and her knife wielding, normally in a corner to herself where she won't bother anyone with the fact that she's really not as good as she would like to be. Sometimes, though, a large white lioness can be found curled around the area of Caer Glaem itself, large wings folded around her body as she moves, practising her control. If you see the lioness flying it's probably a little wonkly, not altogether perfected just yet. ]
[When the harp music began Remus had thought it quite bizarre, but had not really thought much more of it, until he realized that it followed him everywhere it went, even into his dreams. As the days progress on, while Hermione puts her excess of emotion (and no doubt frustration) into her researching the phenomenon, getting to the bottom of it and solving the puzzle, Remus sinks into what he is loathe to admit is probably one of the deepest depressions he's ever allowed himself to fall into since James and Lily died and Sirius went to Azkaban for betraying them and killing Peter and everything he had ever known and loved fell out from underneath his feet literally overnight.
He sits at the little chair and table in his room, his gaze fixed out the window, one hand on the table, the other on Padfoot's head as it rests in his lap. Padfoot does not understand what is going on or what is wrong, just that something is, and he's doing his best to try and help. Remus understands that. He's just not sure there's anything to be done. Anything he can do. He misses his friends. He misses things he cannot have anymore, will never have again. He doesn't have the energy for putting on appearances, not for the last while, hasn't really had the energy for much of anything, either than taking care of Padfoot and only the most basic of care for himself.]
[ Hermione hadn't been sure how to handle the harp music. She's been around the idea of things happening in dreams before, the power of it, the pulse of something drawing her back into sleep, but she had never felt the visions outside of her sleeping thoughts. The harp music follows her, makes her anxious and uncomfortable, and it had affected everything and everyone she had met. All she could do was bury herself in her books, forcing herself to shove herself into it, to feel it, to try and understand it -- even as she realises, slowly, that being awake isn't doing anything to make it go away. If anything it just makes it all the stronger.
It doesn't take her too long to find her way to Remus' room, to knock before she pokes her head inside. It's been a little while since she last saw him and she's worried, anxious about the impact the music might have had on him considering the weight of it on her. He looks so tired, so exhausted, that it makes her heart ache as she shuts the door behind her, walking over to brush her fingers over Padfoot's head and stroke behind his ears before she leans down, her arm sliding around Remus' body as she looks over at him.
[Faolan has been running the gamut of emotions ever since this business with the harps has started. He'd heard, through word of mouth, as the days passed and his feelings had careened everywhere from bitter self-loathing and hatred to intense and fiery anger to, much to his chagrin, deep affection, that it had something to do with the harps, and the secret to overcoming such things is to destroy the harp in his dreams. Such a thing he knows he will never be able to do, so he settles for second-best: waiting it out. He'd tried to spend as much time as he could to himself, although there was only so much avoiding people that he could manage, and avoiding Lancelot is most difficult of all. He handles himself as best as he can around the other man, but he is grateful when Lancelot announces he has a meeting that afternoon, and instead he is left to watch over Lady and Bridei.
At least, he had been grateful, until the harp started to work its way with him. And now there he remains, pacing the room, arms crossed across his chest, intense concern overtaking him. How is the meeting going, he wonders. Is everything alright? Should he have been there after all? Is Lancelot safe? Has something dire happened because Faolan has let down his guard? It's all he can do to stop himself from marching straight down there to find out, and probably only the presence of the little dragon that keeps him from it. The little dragon that, taking advantage of Faolan's distraction, has chosen this moment to climb his way up to the top of the drapes. Faolan only realizes what he's doing once he has flung himself from the fabric and down at him as he passes by, landing awkwardly sprawled across his shoulders and his head, little claws fumbling in his scalp for purchase.]
The music! The beauty turned vile and frightening. It had started in her waking hours, and now it’s followed Pod into her dreams. Worse, it already had a hold on some of her own memories. Pod is almost certain that her initial panic was wrong. Gull can’t have come to Drabwurld with her. Nor could the cursed harp made from the witch spruce that imprisoned his soul have made the journey. But, oh, if she had dragonfire to destroy that cursed sound anyway.
She’s woken screaming from nightmares with the music woven through them for two nights in a row now, but trying to search out the sound in her waking hours leads her around in circles and has proven fruitless. Even using one of the Fairy Rings to flee from Cothromach to Caer Glaem to Station and back again didn’t stop the sound. Nothing she’s been able to think of so far, not even prayers, has been able to rid herself of it. Worse, when Kiga had tried to give comfort to her earlier, her temper had flared and she’d snapped at him. Now, the guilt has her on the verge of tears, even though he’s forgiven her well and truly.
Yet still, the harp plays on, and Pod has to wonder if it might be some spell to rob them all of their sanity instead of control their minds and thoughts as Gull’s music had.
And since she’s back in Caer Glaem, Pod has retreated to the library. There must be something that will help. Somewhere in all these books, there must be some way to break a curse such as this, before it takes over her sleep and waking thoughts entirely and drives her utterly mad. She’s like to strike someone if this continues!
Her first thought is that it must be a curse, so she looks for books on counter-courses and protections. They are varied, and have many uses, some that she writes down to remember later—one can never be over-prepared to stand against dark magic—but only one of the spells that she thinks herself possibly capable of seems like it would have any bearing on such a curse that drives emotions wild.
She takes time and gathers what the book says she’ll need, and even asks one of the librarians for the proper way of pronouncing the words, and tries it. For a little while, she’s hopeful it has worked, but then the music sounds again at the edge of her hearing and Pod breaks down for a moment into frustrated tears.
It takes a while before she’s in control again, and Pod can think of only one person that might help. It’s not even a difficulty to find Hermione, because Kiga informs her that he can smell their friend, and very recently in the library at that.
When they have followed the trail, Pod almost breaks down in happy tears. “Oh, Hermione— I’ve been looking…”
She takes a breath, trying to bring herself to a more calm state. “I fear I’m cursed, or going mad. Do you know anything at all that might help?”
[ As soon as the lockets go down, there are signs and posters plastered around Caer Glaem and the outside areas of the White Citadel, advertising the following; Dorian Gray and Hermione Granger's new business, Artefacta, selling communication devices, potions and magical enchantments for anyone in need.
When the swans migrate into the main body of the Drabworld Hermione will go out to try and take down a few herself - she can be found doing it in lioness form, mostly, letting her larger hands and claws do the work for her - it's less messy, at least, especially when they turn into gold and leave her free to shove them into an enchanted bag. Anyone that needs help with their own attempts to gather swans need only ask for her and she'll come.
During time where she isn't brewing or making compasses, Hermione can be found in her usual haunts - around Caer Glaem, the Citadel (mostly the libraries) and in the Greenwoods - or, if you're around, she can be found wandering around Nimh Gleanne with Padfoot at her side, who is always happy to run ahead and lick at the hands of strangers. ]
[Gilgamesh has little interest in trinkets, truthfully; he hadn't used the locket much up until now, had always relied on strength of will to make his voice heard, but it's a big world, indeed. It's also a world that disobeys and punishes him at every turn, and with politics here so reliant upon communication...
Well, it's easy to see what's drawn him to Hermione's side today.]
Oh? All by your lonesome, young lady?
[...spying a pretty girl putting up posters on the castle wall is what's drawn him to Hermione's side today. He hasn't actually read any. At least he threw a shirt on for this encounter?]
[Lia has stopped by Caer Glaem once again in her travels. She has a baby to check on, and tasks to complete, and slowly she is trying to get used to the idea that this will be home to her and she should make the best of it.
That's when she sees notices. Communication devices. Enchantments? She is terribly curious and makes it a point to stop by and speak with someone before she leaves. Of course that is more easily thought than done and eventually Lia is left trying to find the proprietress rather than a shop itself.]
Mademoiselle Hermione?
[Lia's voice is quiet, polite when she sees her in the halls because it would not do to chase her down yelling like a banshee. Decorum is necessary, even if Lia is excited.]
[ After preparing posters with information of contact, Hermione has sent her own message to Dorian through the compasses, asking him to meet her outside Caer Glaem so that she can transport him over to Nimh Gleanne without too much hassle. There's no way he'd be able to enter Haven without her at his side anyway and, so, she takes his hand as soon as they've said their hellos and apparates him into the middle of her lounge, motioning towards the staircase as she starts to walk and talk.
Sometimes she forgets that not everyone is used to apparation. ]
I'll give you some Floo Powder so that you can come here whenever you like. Since the enchantments on this house mean only I can tell people about it you won't be able to spread the word, but I trust you enough to come and go and maybe use Haven to sleep, when you'd like. There are cots upstairs and there's plenty of tea in the kitchen.
[ Thanks to Waver. Ignoring the room opposite her lab, lined with metal rods and a door that locks from the outside, Hermione stands with a bright smile and motions him towards the warm room, cauldrons still on the flame. ]
[Dorian has to just let himself get dragged along. One minute, he's outside Caer Glaem. The next, he is in Nimh Gleanne. In doors. About to head up a staircase.
He walks, he follows her along physically, but only because what else can he do? The things she says float past his ears as complete nonsense as he moves in a trance, and he steps inside.
Wait.]
Ah . . . I don't know what Floo Powder is?
[A Muggle.]
Oh! But what an impressive workshop. It looks so scientific.
[ It would be a lie to say that she wasn't nervous; the idea of coming into political power wasn't something that Hermione had been at all prepared for, despite knowing, absently, that she would be called upon to help June at some point - the idea of actually leading people, soldiers, men, all kinds that would turn to her for orders and regulation... It was vastly different from being Head Girl at Hogwarts.
She doesn't think she can dock house points for unruliness here.
As soon as she hears from Lancelot that Anne is going to be her second she makes contact with her, inviting her for tea and talk in her rooms. The rooms themselves seem far too grand for Hermione, who sits at a small table shifting uncomfortably until one of the guards at the door announces that Anne has arrived - and then she darts up, rushing over to greet her at the door. ]
[The grand surroundings of the Citadel are impressive even for Anne who had spent her life in various palaces. She is at ease however, giving Hermione a warm smile as the doors open. She instructed her ladies to wait for her outside before making her way into the room, she wished that this first meeting to be just between them.]
Marquise Hermione. It is a pleasure to meet you face to face at last.
[Anne greeted her with a respectful bow of her head. She hoped that she would be able to be of help to Hermione- all too often she had sat by the side of a king who all too often refused to heed her advice. This would be a very welcome change.]
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SPRING (2701)
early march. nimh gleanne.
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It had also given him an idea, based on a conversation with Thrall. Handing the reins of the place over to him would enable a better information flow, the building would be in good hands, and the Barrel's mission could continue in its original home, even if the name was to be different. A matter of paperwork now, plain and simple.
But first, Hermione. He wanted to get her perspective on telling those who had evacuated the village to come back home, ultimately. The sigil matter was secondary, if only because Waver suspected that she was raking herself over coals for what had happened. It'd be hard not to.
So, when he approaches her on the path, it's with good cheer, his red coat buttoned up, the rest of him trying to hide in the scarf. It's bitterly cold, and he has no love for the weather right now.]
Hey.
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Being in Nimh Gleanne is easier, at least, considering. It's as neutral as anywhere is going to get and she can bury herself in her house, in the ideas she has, in the company of the pets she has; Crookshanks and Padfoot are always there to lick at her hands or curl up on her chest if they think their mistress is being at all too solemn and sad and they refuse to deal with it. She's glad to see it; it's good to be forced out of her habit over over-thinking.
Her attention is on Waver, now, though, and she brightens, watching with an amused little smile at how wrapped up he is. She's got her scarf and her hat on, Padfoot still nuzzling at her side, but his wings flutter when he spots the newcomer and he darts over to inspect him quickly. ]
You look like you're in need of a bit of hot chocolate, Waver.
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early may. caer glaem (research room).
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All the more reason to stand by his friends.
When he steps into the workroom, his smile softens at the way she holds herself. It is clear he isn't the only one marred by dark thoughts of dark hours.] Miss Granger? [He matches his voice to his smile and approaches her.] I received your message. But tell me, how do you fare?
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A hug may not be the best thing but she steps forward, almost embracing him before she stops herself and offers her hand instead.
At least they have their friends in these times and she adjusts, hoping they can ignore the pressure of war around their shoulders. ] I'm very good, thank you. Things are a bit quiet, aren't they? Please, sit down, I made us some tea if you'd like some.
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may. townhouse.
mako's following, of course, with a box of seedlings carefully balanced in his arms. ]
Try not to run headfirst into anything, silly.
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I am right here.
[ And she gives Mako a bright smile, just so he feels included. ]
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RIZHAO YOU SILLY its like two pm. dinner isn't that early. ]
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MARCH ( all of month ).
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Hermione! Hello. There's so much that's happened; are you well? Especially with this accursed cold.
[She doesn't want to linger if Hermione might need her help in some way, so she ends it there for now. If Hermione is well, she can describe what she's found.]
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I'm fine, thank you - are you? I'm trying to fix the cold as much as I can but there's only so much a fire spell can do... We don't want to burn them, that would be ridiculous.
[ She's smiling, more than happily. ]
Are you alright? Do you need anything?
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APRIL ( first two weeks ).
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He sits at the little chair and table in his room, his gaze fixed out the window, one hand on the table, the other on Padfoot's head as it rests in his lap. Padfoot does not understand what is going on or what is wrong, just that something is, and he's doing his best to try and help. Remus understands that. He's just not sure there's anything to be done. Anything he can do. He misses his friends. He misses things he cannot have anymore, will never have again. He doesn't have the energy for putting on appearances, not for the last while, hasn't really had the energy for much of anything, either than taking care of Padfoot and only the most basic of care for himself.]
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It doesn't take her too long to find her way to Remus' room, to knock before she pokes her head inside. It's been a little while since she last saw him and she's worried, anxious about the impact the music might have had on him considering the weight of it on her. He looks so tired, so exhausted, that it makes her heart ache as she shuts the door behind her, walking over to brush her fingers over Padfoot's head and stroke behind his ears before she leans down, her arm sliding around Remus' body as she looks over at him.
Her voice, when she speaks, is soft and gentle. ]
Hi, Remus. How are you?
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YOU KNOW THE DRILL i'm sorry this is late :(
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At least, he had been grateful, until the harp started to work its way with him. And now there he remains, pacing the room, arms crossed across his chest, intense concern overtaking him. How is the meeting going, he wonders. Is everything alright? Should he have been there after all? Is Lancelot safe? Has something dire happened because Faolan has let down his guard? It's all he can do to stop himself from marching straight down there to find out, and probably only the presence of the little dragon that keeps him from it. The little dragon that, taking advantage of Faolan's distraction, has chosen this moment to climb his way up to the top of the drapes. Faolan only realizes what he's doing once he has flung himself from the fabric and down at him as he passes by, landing awkwardly sprawled across his shoulders and his head, little claws fumbling in his scalp for purchase.]
Bridei!
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I APOLOGIZED IN THE OTHER TAG BUT I WILL APOLOGIZE AGAIN :(
after her panic post; early April
have made the journey. But, oh, if she had dragonfire to destroy that cursed sound anyway.
She’s woken screaming from nightmares with the music woven through them for two nights in a row now, but trying to search out the sound in her waking hours leads her around in circles and has proven fruitless. Even using one of the Fairy Rings to flee from Cothromach to Caer Glaem to Station and back again didn’t stop the sound. Nothing she’s been able to think of so far, not even prayers, has been able to rid herself of it. Worse, when Kiga had tried to give comfort to her earlier, her temper had flared and she’d snapped at him. Now, the guilt has her on the verge of tears, even though he’s forgiven her well and truly.
Yet still, the harp plays on, and Pod has to wonder if it might be some spell to rob them all of their sanity instead of control their minds and thoughts as Gull’s music had.
And since she’s back in Caer Glaem, Pod has retreated to the library. There must be something that will help. Somewhere in all these books, there must be some way to break a curse such as this, before it takes over her sleep and waking thoughts entirely and drives her utterly mad. She’s like to strike someone if this continues!
Her first thought is that it must be a curse, so she looks for books on counter-courses and protections. They are varied, and have many uses, some that she writes down to remember later—one can never be over-prepared to stand against dark magic—but only one of the spells that she thinks herself possibly capable of seems like it would have any bearing on such a curse that drives emotions wild.
She takes time and gathers what the book says she’ll need, and even asks one of the librarians for the proper way of pronouncing the words, and tries it. For a little while, she’s hopeful it has worked, but then the music sounds again at the edge of her hearing and Pod breaks down for a moment into frustrated tears.
It takes a while before she’s in control again, and Pod can think of only one person that might help. It’s not even a difficulty to find Hermione, because Kiga informs her that he can smell their friend, and very recently in the library at that.
When they have followed the trail, Pod almost breaks down in happy tears. “Oh, Hermione— I’ve been looking…”
She takes a breath, trying to bring herself to a more calm state. “I fear I’m cursed, or going mad. Do you know anything at all that might help?”
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MAY ( all of month ).
early May, Caer Glaem
Well, it's easy to see what's drawn him to Hermione's side today.]
Oh? All by your lonesome, young lady?
[...spying a pretty girl putting up posters on the castle wall is what's drawn him to Hermione's side today. He hasn't actually read any. At least he threw a shirt on for this encounter?]
Did you require company, perhaps? Assistance?
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That's when she sees notices. Communication devices. Enchantments? She is terribly curious and makes it a point to stop by and speak with someone before she leaves. Of course that is more easily thought than done and eventually Lia is left trying to find the proprietress rather than a shop itself.]
Mademoiselle Hermione?
[Lia's voice is quiet, polite when she sees her in the halls because it would not do to chase her down yelling like a banshee. Decorum is necessary, even if Lia is excited.]
You are the one offering the magical aid?
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late may ( nimh gleanne / haven ).
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He walks, he follows her along physically, but only because what else can he do? The things she says float past his ears as complete nonsense as he moves in a trance, and he steps inside.
Wait.]
Ah . . . I don't know what Floo Powder is?
[A Muggle.]
Oh! But what an impressive workshop. It looks so scientific.
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white citadel ( her rooms ).
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Marquise Hermione. It is a pleasure to meet you face to face at last.
[Anne greeted her with a respectful bow of her head. She hoped that she would be able to be of help to Hermione- all too often she had sat by the side of a king who all too often refused to heed her advice. This would be a very welcome change.]
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