[ 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.
[Remus is lost in thought - or more accurately consumed with his memories - that he hardly hears her come in until she's there at his side, her arm slipping around him. He can't really even find it within himself to be startled at her sudden appearance. She's welcome here, in his room, she knows that. Of course she's allowed to let herself as she did. He glances up at her and offers her a little, bittersweet smile, moving to place a hand on hers as he does.]
Hello, Hermione. I'm sorry, I was... [He takes in a deep breath, before continuing on to lie:] Gathering wool, I suppose. What brings you here?
[ Her expression tightens and she shakes her head, watching him. She's worried, a little on edge, and she doesn't know what to do to help. Remus has done so much for her, not just in the Drabworld but at home too and not being able to offer him anything in return makes her feels... Terrible. It weighs on her like a solid pain in her chest. ]
I just thought I'd come and say hello. [ She leans closer, squeezing him gently. ] I missed you.
[Remus smile saddens, if such a thing is possible, considering the look on his face that already was there. He leans into her touch and squeezes her hand slightly.]
I've missed you too. [He says softly. He's been missing a lot of people, these past few days. Hermione, Harry. People that aren't here. People he suspects he'll never see again. People he hasn't seen in a very long while. He doesn't know why it suddenly hurts so much. It's been years, after all, you'd think one would get over these things eventually.
Unconsciously, Remus does not let go of her hand.] Surely you've got better things to be doing than wasting your time with your old professor, though.
[ Her heart hurts seeing him like this, as if the worst has happened all over again, and all she wants to do is draw him into her arms and offer him the same comfort he had always offered her - friendship and chocolate, hand in hand to chase away the demons that haunt the both of them sometimes.
It's almost too easy for her to move closer, to wrap herself entirely and to draw him against her, almost as if his own sadness and his pain seeps into her, music in the back of her mind. She wants to take care of him, the same motherly tendencies she feels towards Harry, and it hurts that there's nothing she can do to help him. ]
I'll never have anything more important than being with a friend. [ And she chooses that word deliberately; he's not just her professor, not now. He's Remus. ]
[Hermione presses herself closer and it is comforting. Remus wraps his arms around her in return and turns his face against her for a moment. It's absurd, how much he's needed this, he thinks to himself. The simple feeling of someone holding him like this, someone who might understand even the slightest if not how he's feeling than at least that he is feeling it and why.
He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, surprised - although in retrospect he really shouldn't be - to find that there are tears burning at his eyes and threatening to spill down his face as he speaks up again to say, his voice only the barest of whispers:]
I miss them, Hermione. All of them. Lily. James. Sirius. [His voice cracks on the last name and takes him a moment to collect himself.] I miss them so much...
[ Hermione's arms sink around him more, tighter, squeezing him and drawing him closer. She can understand, as much as anyone, how he feels. The horrible feeling of memories of people, knowing that you'll never see them again, that their lives have been ended so quickly like a blown out candle. There are so many people that deserved a thousand chances at better lives, at better things, and there's no way to bring them back. There's no way to fix the past, only to try and do something with the future.
She breathes in, fighting back her own tears before she moves, almost falling into his lap as she grips at him tighter. They're the same, in some ways, having lost their friends and their allies, the people they loved, but Remus had lived two wars. He, like her, loved so violently and so passionately that it made her ache to think that it was cruel how well they could understand one another's heartache. ] I know. I - I know. I'm sorry.
Hermione, Hermione. You have nothing to be sorry about. It's not your fault. [He leans against her, and finds tears coming to his eyes despite himself. She's right about that, of course. He has loved, and loved so whole-heartedly that he nearly lost himself as well when he lost all of them. It was difficult, not to give up. There were times he came so close. And now...
He turns his face against her shoulder.] Padfoot looks just like him. Do you know that? The whole first month he was here, I kept thinking... [He trails off for a moment, shaking his head, before he says:] But it wasn't. It was just a dog. And he's lovely, I couldn't have asked for better, but I... [He misses him, with everything that he has.]
That doesn't mean I'm not sorry. It's not fair that you've had to suffer like this, it's - it's not fair that any of this happened to you. [ None of this is fair, none of it is right. War is an ugly, disgusting thing, the people they've lost crowding in her heart and making her own breathing hitch with a sad, sombre noise. She's lucky, she thinks, that she's been able to see Remus come back to her, that she can have him at her side as a friend and teacher all over again. He isn't so lucky; all the people that he had lost are dead and gone and there is nothing that she can do to bring them back. Not even here, with all the power she has.
Her fingers trail through his hair gently, stroking, comforting even as she deliberately bites back her own tears. ] That's what I thought when I first saw him too. He looks just the same. [ Leaning back, she lifts her hands to touch his cheeks, tender and gentle. ] It's not the same. Not being around them isn't the same. It's - it's the worst feeling in the world. Knowing that there's nothing you can do to make any of it better, to - to fix things.
[ And she knows she would. Hermione would exhange her life for Sirius', for Remus', for Harry and Ron and Ginny and everyone she has ever known and loved if she thought it would bring them back. When she leans forward, her forehead touches his. ]
[He will perhaps never see his friends again, no, and if he does, he'll be older than them now. Older than Lily and James, at least. And Sirius. Oh, Sirius. He's still alive, back home, but what kind of a life does he have, on the run from the Ministry of Magic, one of the most wanted men in all of the wizarding world, falsely accused and with no hope of proving his innocence save for catching Peter again, a task easier said than done. He was a Marauder after all - he might have needed the most help in school out of all of them, but there were reasons that they'd kept Pete around, all those years, and they certainly wouldn't have suffered his company if he was an idiot.
Remus lets Hermione stroke her hands through his hair, he lets her put her hands on his face and shuts his eyes as her forehead touches his. He has to remind himself that she is only ten, thirteen years younger than him these days, and considering their ages, that's not that much of a difference at all. He is young still, even if he feels so old.]
I'm not sure you really want that. To hear what I have to say. Not really. I wouldn't want to trouble you any more than I already have...
[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 amount of time that Hermione has spent walking between her own rooms and Lancelot's is almost getting a little ridiculous, honestly. She could just apparate over, she supposes, she could pop around to see him quite literally, but she knows that his room is magically protected and she would, more than likely, find herself slammed outside with a spear against her skin, Marchioness or not. It's far better to go and have herself be announced, to walk through with her head held high - even if Lancelot isn't there, which he isn't. She frowns but gets offered to wait inside all the same, wanting to make some time to spend with her friends and to check up on the baby.
... And, of course, as soon as she arrives, he's climbing the wall. Literally.
Her own emotions are a little distracting and for a moment all she can do is laugh, shaking her head and breathing out with a sharp noise before she steps closer to Faolan, holding out a hand to Bridei to try and encourage him to not shove his claws into the poor man's head. ]
[Faolan starts slightly at the announcement that Hermione is at the door, although he's a little too distracted trying to untangle the dragon from his hair to be able to do much about it. He lets out a grunt in response to Hermione's greeting as he tries - unsuccessfully - to detach the dragon. The guards, he trusts at least, not to let anyone in that they would not trust with the knowledge of the little dragon, not without giving him time to hide him. Hermione has already met him, Faolan knows. That will make this easier for both of them, at least.
Bridei himself, however, seems to think that this is a lovely perch, an excellent vantage point, and all the better to greet their guest from as she approaches. He unfurls his wings, flapping them slightly, letting out a little waaaargh!! in happy greeting to Hermione, and staying put right where he is.
Faolan lets out a noise of frustration.] By all that's holy, Bridei... [He mutters to himself.] Let go.
[ The greeting makes her beam, expression lifting and brightening before she moves closer, putting her bag to one side and taking off her cardigan before she moves closer to hold out a hand, offering it to Bridei. This, at least, is a bit more familiar and she's unconcerned with whatever impression she might be making on Faolan. She's just glad to see the dragon looking so happy, even if he is making a bit of a mess of the poor man's hair.
When she looks up properly it's with a soft smile, her hand reaching to touch his shoulder gently, a greeting for him in lieu of the hug she might have given someone else she was a little more sure of. ]
And it's nice to see you too, Faolan. I see Bridei is as energetic as ever?
[He's sorry that he's so gruff and grumbly, Hermione. It's not you, he promises. If she had hugged him in greeting, he would have embraced her in return. But people do not generally embrace Faolan, people do not generally treat him like he is the sort of man to have or want emotional interaction like that. Which isn't necessarily true, he's just conditioned himself to appear that way.
In response to her question, he sighs, as Bridei himself flicks a tongue out at her fingers, and then scrambles down from his head to his shoulder to launch himself towards her. Hello, Hermione! Hello! You deserve a proper greeting from at least one of them! Faolan tries to catch him but the dragon moves too fast and Faolan is still a little afraid of damaging one of those delicate wings with all the squirming Bridei sometimes does.]
My apologies. If he is not sleeping, he is scaling the walls. [Faolan bemoans.] Sometimes literally. I suppose I should be grateful that Lady has enough training not to attempt and join in. I can take him back if you'd like.
[ She doesn't hesitate to wrap her arms around the dragon, to draw him closer and let his energy warm her. The strange mixture of feelings, the worry and the twisting upset, seems to flicker in and out of her mind, but at least now she has something to focus on. She holds Bridei close, stroking her hands along his body and his wings, gentle and tender. She has experience with Rizhao, after all, and she knows what she's doing; she was an aunt to that baby dragon and she intends to be an aunt to this one as well.
Bridei is going to have a lot of presents in his future, she thinks.
Finally, she looks back over at Faolan and shakes her head, her smile softening into something a little mroe gentle and fond. ]
No, I don't mind. It's not the first time he's decided I'm the best climbing frame in the world, is it?
[ And she smiles at the baby again, letting her arms relax so he can climb and settle wherever he pleases on her. He can do as he likes, she thinks, as long as he doesn't pull on her hair too terribly. ]
Do you need a cup of tea or some chocolate, Faolan? I can hold him for a little bit while you have a sit down, if you want.
[Bridei doesn't mind so much that Hermione is clutching him to her chest, so long as she keeps stroking him like that. He's growing fast and his scales get itchy sometimes! Her arms are very nice and warm too, and Faolan was right about him really only having two modes, on or off. Settling in her arms, he chirrups slightly, wriggling a little to get comfortable and nuzzling close to start chewing on her hair.]
[Faolan lets out a little laugh at the offer. Tea or chocolate. He has to wonder whether they are Hermione's own means of coping through this business with the music, herself - it seems a random offer otherwise.] I'm fine. [Lady huffs at him slightly as if she understands what he's saying and he amends his statement.] I don't need to rest. I've been resting all day. All month. He's not too much of a handful, compared to the work I am used to.
[He reaches up to run a hand to run through his hair, smoothing it back from where Bridei has ruffled it out of sorts.] Can I help you, Hermione? Lancelot is not here. He will not be for some time yet, I suspect...
[ The little one is incredible and Hermione feels emotions warming her, a great deal more powerful than they might have been if the magic of the music hadn't been affecting her so much already. She holds Bridei, strokes at him and lets him do as he pleases, chewing on her hair; he won't do too much damage, she's sure, unless he decides that now is the time to suddenly learn to cough fire or summon some kind of other dragonly powers.
Faolan's laugh catches her attention quickly enough, though, and she smiles, stepping a little closer. She hasn't spent as much time with him alone as she would have liked to, considering how much she does want to get to know him, but this might be a chance. Lancelot isn't here and she's sure he's so busy that she might end up being a bit of a bother to him anyway. ] That's good. I'm sure you've earned a few years of rest in the last little while, Faolan. I'm glad to hear you've been forced to take up on it.
[ It's a slight tease before she smiles. ]
I did come to see him, but I wouldn't mind spending a little time with you and Bridei if you weren't busy? [ She scratches at the dragon again before she hums. ] I don't think you and I have ever just sat and talked.
[Faolan cocks his head at her slightly, a bit of confusion and curiosity evident on his face. Wanting to spend time with him? It's obvious that the thought surprises him a little. Obvious that, aside from Lancelot, he doesn't really get a whole lot of people interested in such a thing.] I don't believe we have. Not recently, at any rate. [He gives her another searching look, as if to say "are you really sure you want to sit and talk with me?" before he steps back, running his hand through his hair once more for good measure. (His hands that, since the last time Hermione has seen him, have fully recovered. He bears no scars, but should she chance to touch them the skin is soft and smooth and delicate. It's going to take him a while to work up his callouses again, he's bemoaned on several occasions.)]
Well. I'm not going to turn you out. You're welcome here any time, especially if you're taking him for a moment. [Him being Bridei. He does calm down like this for Faolan too, but today he's been in a right state, up until she showed up.] I can't guarantee the same level of entertainment as Lancelot, but I'll do my best. Would you like anything? [She might note how at home he seems to be here in Lancelot's rooms, but then again, he does live there too, at the moment.]
Then it's about time we fixed that, isn't it? [ Hermione knows that she has spent time around Faolan, with Lancelot at their side, but she saw no reason why they couldn't spent time together and get to know each other without the Marshal around. She already cared for Faolan rather a lot, wanted to make sure he was safe and happy, and now seemed as good a time as any. If that also means she gets to spend time with the baby, giving Faolan a little bit of a break now and then, well, it's hardly a problem, is it? She's holding on to Bridei gently, tenderly, almost sisterly in her affection for him.
She shakes her head, though, smile turning a little more tender. ] I'm fine, really. Maybe a seat and a cup of tea later, but for now your company is more than enough. [ She hums, scratching at the dragon gently. ] How have you been? Not getting into too much trouble, I hope?
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?”
The library at Caer Glaem is almost like a second home to her now considering how long she's spent there the last few weeks. She's in and out more often than she would've expected, all things considered, and she huffs a little as she shoves another book out of sight, getting more and more frustrated as she tries to figure out what she can do to help.
The music that runs in the back of her mind is a concentrated echo, pulsing here and there. She knows there is more to do, more that she can do, and yet she feels weaker and exhausted, pulled down by the power of the harp music and all the things that she has been trying to do to shrug it off and be more herself. It's hard, ridiculously so, and yet she is trying desperately to overcome it. She isn't used to giving in to her emotions as easily now, having become a little more accustomed to fighting them off and demanding that she holds her head high as a Marchioness ought; she's been learning.
Kiga is what she notices first, her eyes widening a little when Pod follows not long after. She pushes herself to her feet, stepping over and hesitating before she reaches to pull the other girl into her arms.
"Pod, oh, no, it's okay," she's gentle as she holds her, stroking a hand down her back with careful tenderness. She's a little on edge herself and the other girl's obvious emotions tackle her and make her want to swallow back her own pain, to do nothing more than help her, smothering her in all the possible kindnesses she can ever hope to offer. Her hand lifts to stroke through Pod's hair before she finds her words.
"You're not going mad, I promise, it isn't just you. Lots of us are suffering from this - the harps and so on. It's alright, I swear, we'll figure it out. Just breathe, okay? Breathe for me."
The hug is a little surprising, but after a moment, Pod melts into it, sniffling as she holds back tears that threaten again. It’s embarrassing to cry so, and the music just seems to make everything so much worse.
So she focuses on Hermione’s voice, and breathes slow and deep, the way she was taught to call up her magic. She reaches for good memories, focusing on Kiga and Conor and Linden, and to her surprise, when she manages to hold onto them and the good feelings, those feelings rise up a like a tide. The sudden shift makes her head spin, and she laughs for a moment, sounding more confused than mirthful.
“What is it? I— I tried something for curses and it didn’t work. And I’m sure it cannot be Gull. Almost. I just— how do I get rid of it? There must be a way to stop it, for everyone.”
Getting rid of it is almost as important as finding out what it is, though Pod is sure discovering the latter would make the first easier. Well, harder or easier, what matters is doing it. If this continues— Pod doesn’t want to think on how terrible things could end up. This must be some kind of dark magic, surely?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
APRIL ( first two weeks ).
no subject
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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
Hello, Hermione. I'm sorry, I was... [He takes in a deep breath, before continuing on to lie:] Gathering wool, I suppose. What brings you here?
no subject
I just thought I'd come and say hello. [ She leans closer, squeezing him gently. ] I missed you.
no subject
I've missed you too. [He says softly. He's been missing a lot of people, these past few days. Hermione, Harry. People that aren't here. People he suspects he'll never see again. People he hasn't seen in a very long while. He doesn't know why it suddenly hurts so much. It's been years, after all, you'd think one would get over these things eventually.
Unconsciously, Remus does not let go of her hand.] Surely you've got better things to be doing than wasting your time with your old professor, though.
no subject
It's almost too easy for her to move closer, to wrap herself entirely and to draw him against her, almost as if his own sadness and his pain seeps into her, music in the back of her mind. She wants to take care of him, the same motherly tendencies she feels towards Harry, and it hurts that there's nothing she can do to help him. ]
I'll never have anything more important than being with a friend. [ And she chooses that word deliberately; he's not just her professor, not now. He's Remus. ]
no subject
He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, surprised - although in retrospect he really shouldn't be - to find that there are tears burning at his eyes and threatening to spill down his face as he speaks up again to say, his voice only the barest of whispers:]
I miss them, Hermione. All of them. Lily. James. Sirius. [His voice cracks on the last name and takes him a moment to collect himself.] I miss them so much...
no subject
[ Hermione's arms sink around him more, tighter, squeezing him and drawing him closer. She can understand, as much as anyone, how he feels. The horrible feeling of memories of people, knowing that you'll never see them again, that their lives have been ended so quickly like a blown out candle. There are so many people that deserved a thousand chances at better lives, at better things, and there's no way to bring them back. There's no way to fix the past, only to try and do something with the future.
She breathes in, fighting back her own tears before she moves, almost falling into his lap as she grips at him tighter. They're the same, in some ways, having lost their friends and their allies, the people they loved, but Remus had lived two wars. He, like her, loved so violently and so passionately that it made her ache to think that it was cruel how well they could understand one another's heartache. ] I know. I - I know. I'm sorry.
no subject
He turns his face against her shoulder.] Padfoot looks just like him. Do you know that? The whole first month he was here, I kept thinking... [He trails off for a moment, shaking his head, before he says:] But it wasn't. It was just a dog. And he's lovely, I couldn't have asked for better, but I... [He misses him, with everything that he has.]
no subject
Her fingers trail through his hair gently, stroking, comforting even as she deliberately bites back her own tears. ] That's what I thought when I first saw him too. He looks just the same. [ Leaning back, she lifts her hands to touch his cheeks, tender and gentle. ] It's not the same. Not being around them isn't the same. It's - it's the worst feeling in the world. Knowing that there's nothing you can do to make any of it better, to - to fix things.
[ And she knows she would. Hermione would exhange her life for Sirius', for Remus', for Harry and Ron and Ginny and everyone she has ever known and loved if she thought it would bring them back. When she leans forward, her forehead touches his. ]
I'm here. Talk to me, Remus, let me help you.
no subject
Remus lets Hermione stroke her hands through his hair, he lets her put her hands on his face and shuts his eyes as her forehead touches his. He has to remind himself that she is only ten, thirteen years younger than him these days, and considering their ages, that's not that much of a difference at all. He is young still, even if he feels so old.]
I'm not sure you really want that. To hear what I have to say. Not really. I wouldn't want to trouble you any more than I already have...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
YOU KNOW THE DRILL i'm sorry this is late :(
no subject
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!
no subject
... And, of course, as soon as she arrives, he's climbing the wall. Literally.
Her own emotions are a little distracting and for a moment all she can do is laugh, shaking her head and breathing out with a sharp noise before she steps closer to Faolan, holding out a hand to Bridei to try and encourage him to not shove his claws into the poor man's head. ]
Hello, both of you.
no subject
Bridei himself, however, seems to think that this is a lovely perch, an excellent vantage point, and all the better to greet their guest from as she approaches. He unfurls his wings, flapping them slightly, letting out a little waaaargh!! in happy greeting to Hermione, and staying put right where he is.
Faolan lets out a noise of frustration.] By all that's holy, Bridei... [He mutters to himself.] Let go.
no subject
When she looks up properly it's with a soft smile, her hand reaching to touch his shoulder gently, a greeting for him in lieu of the hug she might have given someone else she was a little more sure of. ]
And it's nice to see you too, Faolan. I see Bridei is as energetic as ever?
no subject
In response to her question, he sighs, as Bridei himself flicks a tongue out at her fingers, and then scrambles down from his head to his shoulder to launch himself towards her. Hello, Hermione! Hello! You deserve a proper greeting from at least one of them! Faolan tries to catch him but the dragon moves too fast and Faolan is still a little afraid of damaging one of those delicate wings with all the squirming Bridei sometimes does.]
My apologies. If he is not sleeping, he is scaling the walls. [Faolan bemoans.] Sometimes literally. I suppose I should be grateful that Lady has enough training not to attempt and join in. I can take him back if you'd like.
no subject
Bridei is going to have a lot of presents in his future, she thinks.
Finally, she looks back over at Faolan and shakes her head, her smile softening into something a little mroe gentle and fond. ]
No, I don't mind. It's not the first time he's decided I'm the best climbing frame in the world, is it?
[ And she smiles at the baby again, letting her arms relax so he can climb and settle wherever he pleases on her. He can do as he likes, she thinks, as long as he doesn't pull on her hair too terribly. ]
Do you need a cup of tea or some chocolate, Faolan? I can hold him for a little bit while you have a sit down, if you want.
no subject
[Faolan lets out a little laugh at the offer. Tea or chocolate. He has to wonder whether they are Hermione's own means of coping through this business with the music, herself - it seems a random offer otherwise.] I'm fine. [Lady huffs at him slightly as if she understands what he's saying and he amends his statement.] I don't need to rest. I've been resting all day. All month. He's not too much of a handful, compared to the work I am used to.
[He reaches up to run a hand to run through his hair, smoothing it back from where Bridei has ruffled it out of sorts.] Can I help you, Hermione? Lancelot is not here. He will not be for some time yet, I suspect...
no subject
Faolan's laugh catches her attention quickly enough, though, and she smiles, stepping a little closer. She hasn't spent as much time with him alone as she would have liked to, considering how much she does want to get to know him, but this might be a chance. Lancelot isn't here and she's sure he's so busy that she might end up being a bit of a bother to him anyway. ] That's good. I'm sure you've earned a few years of rest in the last little while, Faolan. I'm glad to hear you've been forced to take up on it.
[ It's a slight tease before she smiles. ]
I did come to see him, but I wouldn't mind spending a little time with you and Bridei if you weren't busy? [ She scratches at the dragon again before she hums. ] I don't think you and I have ever just sat and talked.
no subject
Well. I'm not going to turn you out. You're welcome here any time, especially if you're taking him for a moment. [Him being Bridei. He does calm down like this for Faolan too, but today he's been in a right state, up until she showed up.] I can't guarantee the same level of entertainment as Lancelot, but I'll do my best. Would you like anything? [She might note how at home he seems to be here in Lancelot's rooms, but then again, he does live there too, at the moment.]
no subject
She shakes her head, though, smile turning a little more tender. ] I'm fine, really. Maybe a seat and a cup of tea later, but for now your company is more than enough. [ She hums, scratching at the dragon gently. ] How have you been? Not getting into too much trouble, I hope?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
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?”
no subject
The music that runs in the back of her mind is a concentrated echo, pulsing here and there. She knows there is more to do, more that she can do, and yet she feels weaker and exhausted, pulled down by the power of the harp music and all the things that she has been trying to do to shrug it off and be more herself. It's hard, ridiculously so, and yet she is trying desperately to overcome it. She isn't used to giving in to her emotions as easily now, having become a little more accustomed to fighting them off and demanding that she holds her head high as a Marchioness ought; she's been learning.
Kiga is what she notices first, her eyes widening a little when Pod follows not long after. She pushes herself to her feet, stepping over and hesitating before she reaches to pull the other girl into her arms.
"Pod, oh, no, it's okay," she's gentle as she holds her, stroking a hand down her back with careful tenderness. She's a little on edge herself and the other girl's obvious emotions tackle her and make her want to swallow back her own pain, to do nothing more than help her, smothering her in all the possible kindnesses she can ever hope to offer. Her hand lifts to stroke through Pod's hair before she finds her words.
"You're not going mad, I promise, it isn't just you. Lots of us are suffering from this - the harps and so on. It's alright, I swear, we'll figure it out. Just breathe, okay? Breathe for me."
no subject
So she focuses on Hermione’s voice, and breathes slow and deep, the way she was taught to call up her magic. She reaches for good memories, focusing on Kiga and Conor and Linden, and to her surprise, when she manages to hold onto them and the good feelings, those feelings rise up a like a tide. The sudden shift makes her head spin, and she laughs for a moment, sounding more confused than mirthful.
“What is it? I— I tried something for curses and it didn’t work. And I’m sure it cannot be Gull. Almost. I just— how do I get rid of it? There must be a way to stop it, for everyone.”
Getting rid of it is almost as important as finding out what it is, though Pod is sure discovering the latter would make the first easier. Well, harder or easier, what matters is doing it. If this continues— Pod doesn’t want to think on how terrible things could end up. This must be some kind of dark magic, surely?